Domed Judgment

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A plan was made. Granny and Layla would stay home, while the two girls and two guys hiked back to the dome.  The three mile hike should take us awhile. This time we packed supplies.

I unloaded my backpack into the book corner, leaving my Bible in the front waterproof pocket. Then we packed water and snacks in the main pocket. The ice cream had filled my stomach for the moment but I didn’t know how long I would remain full.

The raised voices of the brothers grabbed my attention. “I’m the oldest we stick to the road. It’s safer,” Anthony said.

“I know the hunting path to back side of the Farm,” Darris argued.

“No, we stick to the road. Maybe we’ll see someone we know,” Anthony said.

“What if we meet someone we don’t want to know, like the girls last night at Mazie’s house?” Darris asked.

“We’ll be careful. You can hear a long way in this silence.” Anthony said.

Darris sighed, running his hand through his hair. He said, “Okay.”

In a few minutes, we were ready to go. We all wanted to see. No, that’s not right, we needed to see.

We made great time, surprising ourselves. But with each step disappointment grew as well. We never saw or heard another person. In fact, the silence seemed to increase, exaggerating the cicada’s songs. Every once in a while we would catch the smell of a campfire.  My heart pleaded, Please Jesus let them be okay!

Coming out of the trees at the curve once again, we were not prepared for what we saw. The opaque bluish dome from yesterday was gone. As we got closer, I knelt down and cried; my family and my friends were all gone. It was all gone. The land was a barren, burnt wasteland as far as the eye could see. Even the wrecked cars on our side of the dome burnt. The road was a melted ribbon at least twenty feet this side as well.

Wiping the tears, I said, “I need to go over that ridge to see. . . to see . . . if it’s just the edge that’s burnt.” I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. All of our faces depicted the grim reality of loosing loved ones. God, I don’t understand. Why? I loved them.

“I need to see as well,” Anna said. We picked up our gear and trekked along the black melted road edge. Each ridge confirmed our worse fears. Either an implosion or explosion, the result was the same, our Franklin, our families, our friends and our community gone. Jesus, if that old poem, “Footprints in the Sand” is real, I need that now.

© 2013 Kim Izzy