The Rapture

She had been waiting for months to die. Everyone was gone, but still, here she lay. She rose slowly, untangling herself from the filthy sheets. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, and her head felt heavy and foggy. In vain, she looked at the small gold watch strapped to her wrist. The battery had died only a week after the rapture, and even though there was no way to replace it, she hadn’t bothered to take it off. The electricity had been cut off last week. Her first thought was to call someone to fix it, before realising that was ridiculous, who was there to call? Besides, her phone was dead, just like everything else, and how could she charge it with no electricity?

She wondered what time it was. The sky was dark, but it was January in the Scottish Highlands, which narrowed it down to somewhere between 4:00 pm and 8:00 am. She carefully peeled back a corner of the dusty curtains and glanced outside. The trees surrounding the house loomed in the darkness like skeletons reaching towards her. The stillness was overwhelming. She felt her pulse quicken. Dropping the edge of the curtain, she stepped as far away from the window as she could. "There's nothing left", she thought for the thousandth time since the rapture. Shakily, she sat back down on the bed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady herself.

Absentmindedly she reached for the small stone that hung from her neck. In the nine years that she'd been wearing the necklace, she’d developed a habit of fiddling with it when stressed. It was malachite, “The Midwife’s Stone”. Sam had found it in an Occult shop on the day they learned she was pregnant. Its polished surface with swirling shades of green was perfectly shaped into a small heart. Sam had brought it home, carefully drilled a hole into the top of the delicate stone and placed it on a thin gold chain. He beamed with pride when he presented it to her and explained that some believed Malachite could be used to ease labour pains and facilitate easy childbirth.

Sam, having been born and raised in the Highlands was always fascinating her with anecdotes like this. Scotland was steeped in ancient magic and lore; it was one of the things that had drawn her here from her native Wisconsin so many years ago. She wore the necklace for her entire pregnancy and the day she gave birth to Claire. The only time she had ever removed it was when Claire was a year old and entering a particularly grabby phase. In fear it would be broken, she had hung the chain over the bedpost on her side of the bed. She remembered the panic that had washed over her the day she walked into the bedroom to find the necklace missing. She called Sam frantically, asking if he had seen it. He hesitated before replying “no…but please don’t worry, it will turn up.” She spent the rest of the afternoon tearing the house apart while Claire toddled around after her, giggling and revelling in the fact that it was now acceptable to destroy the house.

When Sam arrived home a couple of hours later, he surveyed the damage and sheepishly held up the necklace. “I guess I should have told you I had it”, he said. She had been furious, “You said you didn’t know where it was!” she shouted trying to grab the chain from his hands. “I wanted to surprise you, look”, he held up the necklace to display that the malachite was now embedded on the front of a solid gold heart. He turned it over to reveal a small clasp, “I had it turned into a locket.” She felt her eyes well with tears as she opened the heart to reveal the first photograph they had taken as a family of three. “Sam…” she breathed, feeling her voice catch in her throat. He laughed and slid his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest. They stood that way for a long moment before her head began lightly bouncing with the movement of Sam's stifled laughter. She looked up at him, “what are you laughing at?” she had asked, incredulously. He cleared his throat “should we maybe discuss what the hell you’ve done to our house?”.

**********

She quickly snapped herself from her memories and dropped the locket. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look at the picture since the rapture. The years of happy memories she had of Sam and Claire were now shrouded in despair. They were gone, the world had descended into chaos, and she was alone.

She wiped her tears and rose from the bed. Making her way to the kitchen, she was careful not to step on the broken glass that littered the hallway from the smashed picture frames that once hung on the walls. By some miracle, the water was still running. She wondered if she should begin stockpiling. It was growing harder to keep track of time but she estimated it had been about three months since the rapture, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the water, like the electricity, was gone.

She began opening cupboards, trying to find a clean cup. They were mostly bare, except for the pathetic remainder of canned goods that sat collecting dust on the middle shelf. Without access to a car, she had few options. It was at least a two-day walk from the remote location of the house to the nearest store. Even if she had the strength to venture out into the frigid winter, she had no way of knowing what she would encounter. The world was different since the rapture. She knew she was safer inside, even if it meant starving to death. She settled on a plastic measuring cup found on the floor near the fridge and filled it. After several deep gulps, she made her way to, what was at one time, the family room.

The vast room was colder than the rest of the house because of the south wall, which was nothing more than windows that stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling. When Sam was alive, he installed shades that would open and close at the touch of a button. Every morning Claire would rush to be first into the family room so she could be the one to push the button. It had been mesmerising to watch the stunning Scottish Highlands pour into the room. But now, without Claire, the windows were terrifying, and the idea of someone lurking in the tree line, just beyond her line of sight was enough to keep her tucked away at the other end of the house. The shades had not been enough to dull the fear, so on the first day she found herself awake with the sun, she had collected all the spare blankets in the house and covered the windows so that no light could enter.

She found an almost empty lighter and hoped there was enough fluid left to light a candle. After several flicks, a dull flame illuminated the darkness and she managed to ignite a small tealight which she then used to light the other candles. The room glowed with warm light and she instinctively checked the blankets, ensuring the windows were thoroughly covered. When she was satisfied, she settled herself on the sofa, wondering if it would be long before someone stumbled upon the house. As she drifted back into sleep, she hoped that when it happened, the intruder would finish her off before she woke. She felt a calm wash over her as she imagined laying down to sleep, opening her eyes again, and being back with Sam and Claire. “Please be this time”, she thought as her last threads of consciousness unravelled.

***********

She awoke suddenly and sat up so quickly she thought she would be sick. Everything was silent for several seconds, she began to wonder if it had just been a dream, but then it happened again. Several loud bangs echoed through the house. Her feet flew to the floor and she froze. Should she hide? Run? More banging. Was someone yelling? She rose and slowly moved towards the sound. It was coming from the front door, and someone was definitely on the other side. Her first instinct was to flee but whoever it was yelled so frantically that she wondered if they needed help. Maybe they were trying to escape the chaos of the outside world and fled into the remote wilderness. Maybe she was the only thing that stood between life and death for this person, maybe it was death coming for her at last. Something was appealing about this last thought and before she even registered that she had moved, she was standing in front of the door. It only took her another second to realise that whoever was out there, was screaming her name.

She cracked the door and in a fury of wild hair and winter coats someone was upon her. She tried to pull away but the intruder was griping her with such ferocity she could hardly breathe. It took a moment for her to realise that whoever it was, was muttering “thank God”, over and over again. They pulled away and gripped her shoulders “thank God, you’re ok”.

“Mom?” she asked, confused.

Her mother pulled her to her chest again, “Oh sweetheart”, she said, “I was so worried. No one has heard from you in weeks and when my messages stopped delivering to you a few days ago we thought the worst”.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, still confused. “How are you here?”

Her mother had moved past her, examining the house. “Sweetheart”, she said again, “Is this how you’ve been living?” She watched as her mother took in the broken glass and dusty furniture. “It’s freezing in here, honey.” She didn’t respond. “And where is your phone, is it broken?”

“No,” she said quietly. “The power went out a while ago, I can't charge it.”

“Where is your fuse box?” She asked, pulling her jacket tightly around her and crossing her arms to keep from shivering.

She pointed weakly to the front hall closet.

Her mother disappeared for a second and suddenly the house was filled with beeps as appliances came back to life and the gentle whir of electricity surged through the house.

“I thought the electric company had shut it off,” she said, dumbfounded.

“Dad and I have been covering your bills until Sam’s life insurance comes in. Remember? We set it up after the funeral.” her mother’s face was filled with worry and she reached for her daughter’s hands. “I knew we shouldn’t have left you here alone. I told your father we needed to make you come home with us.”

Her head was spinning. “I don’t understand,” she said. “It’s dangerous out there, how did you get here?”.

“Dangerous?” her mother led her to the sofa. She saw her eyes flicker to the heavily draped windows and watched as she brushed the strange image off. “Have you left the house at all since the funeral?”. She shook her head. “Honey, the grief counsellor at the hospital said that this was common. Do you remember?” When she didn’t respond, her mother continued, “my love, what happened to Sam and Claire was a horrific accident, but you are safe, you don’t have to lock yourself away. They wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”

“Mom”, she whispered, “what am I supposed to do without them?” She felt her throat tighten and her mother embraced her fiercely. As her tears fell, she collapsed into her mother and cried until sleep took her once more.

************

This time, when she rose, something was different. It took her a moment to realise what had changed, there was light. The late afternoon sun spilt in through the windows, bathing the family room in magnificent shades of emerald and gold. The blankets were gone. She surveyed the room, it was spotless. Her mother must have cleaned while she slept. She rose from the sofa and followed the sound of her mother’s voice to the kitchen. She was on the phone

“Oh, she’s awake. I’ll call you back in a bit, love you.” Her mother said as she came into view, abruptly ending the call. “That was your father. Come and sit down, I want to talk to you, honey.” The kitchen had been cleaned too, and a large pot of what could only be her mother’s chicken soup was simmering on the stove. She sat and her mother placed a heaping bowl in front of her. She smiled softly, “thanks, mom”.

Her mother took a deep breath and began, “I know we spoke about it already after the funeral, and I know you don’t want to, but your father and I think you should come home, at least for a little while.” She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother raised her hand. “It’s not good for you to be here alone, sweetheart. Please come back with me, please let us help.” She looked around the kitchen, at the empty chairs once occupied by Sam and Claire. Her eyes made their way to the small step ladder in the corner that Claire used to use to reach the cupboards. The years of artwork that still hung on the fridge, handprints, poems, drawings. The French press on the counter, “it’s the only way to drink coffee, dammit!”, Sam used to say when she would complain about how much longer it took to make than instant coffee. She looked at the worried face of her mother and nodded. “I think some help would be good.”

**********

She watched from the front door as her mother loaded their suitcases into the trunk of the rental car. “Are you ready?” she called. When she remained motionless, her mother climbed the porch steps and gently placed her hand on her arm. “They will go wherever you go, sweetheart. You don’t have to be scared to leave them.” She looked into her mother’s face and nodded. She firmly gripped the small golden locket hanging from her neck, took a deep breath, and stepped into the bright winter morning.