CHAPTER 8

            Naomi turned to look at the glass lake as her gondola crawled the wire above the slope. It was a slow climb, but she didn’t mind. She could never tire of this view. She thought back to when they’d first arrived, all those years ago, to embark on the construction of the center. It had been a much simpler time. For the first week it’d been just the two of them. They’d hiked up from the town and pitched a tent under the stars. There had been no roads back then, no home. Charlie had just started learning guitar, and they spent their evenings laughing at his bad renditions of old kingdom melodies as they munched on dried fruit and crackers and the few bottles of wine left from their trip to Napa. So simple.

            Friends had arrived on the second week with the raw materials for their cabin in the clearing. Among the items they hauled up were solar power tools–circular saws, planers, and drills–and all the nails, screws, plaster, siding, sheet metal, and countless other odds and ends needed to build the simple, two-room cabin. Two lumberjacks came and taught them how to fell and trim their own timbers. Even a mechanic friend had come along to repair the ski lift and teach them how to maintain it.

            Within weeks the building had begun to take shape and by the chilly fall months Charlie and Naomi had moved. They lit their first pile of logs in the fireplace and popped open a bottle of champagne they’d been saving for over a decade.

            The whole house had been built in less than three months. Then Sophie had arrived, fresh off a sail barge from halfway around the world, bubbling over with tales of adventure and exploration. She’d grown so much in the countless years they’d been apart. The reunion was indescribably sweet.

            Sophie’s return was followed by the pregnancy which had resulted in a beautiful baby boy. A perfect baby boy. He was to be called Daniel. There had been no morning sickness, no hot flashes, no dizzy spells, no pains in labor. Naomi realized, rather bemusedly, that she would never be able to relate to all the horrific birth stories from the mothers of the Old World.

            Blessing upon blessing, until there was no more want.

            Still, the last week had been a challenge unlike any other. Naomi closed her eyes and sighed as the peak crept into view. Charlie had felt like someone else this last week. There’d been a wall between them, a thick barrier built of unspoken worries and fears. The trouble was the unknown. What if they didn’t accept the truth? What would happen then? How much time were they allowed before Jehovah brought Divine–and everlasting!–judgement?

            Daniel worried her, too. He was almost fifty now, but those were fifty years lived in a world apart from the unrighteous. They had lived and breathed imperfection. And of all people to assist, why a soldier! How would her little Daniel know how to persuade such a man? Why her baby? Why Daniel? Surely there were other young men who’d walked in those shoes...

            And then, of course, there was Sophie.

            ‘Sophie the Strong,’ her little girl had once written for a class assignment in an effort to describe herself. She’d been just seven years old. It was how most of her classmates and teachers saw her, too. Always independent, resilient, intrepid. She was the one to spring into action at the sight of some playground injustice, sometimes using her fists to right the wrong. And yet, as with so many adopted children, she’d always been plagued with the telltale signs of insecurity. As a toddler, she would become anxious and panicky when her parents left the house. Suitcases terrified her. She wouldn’t sleep in her own bed until she was six.

            “Will you be here in the morning?” she used to ask before bedtime. Naomi could still remember those milky brown eyes watching her close Feifei’s bedroom door each night. And each morning, just as daylight was beginning to push through their curtains, those galloping little footsteps as she charged through the hallway and leapt into her parents’ bed sheets. Despite all the surrounding chaos as the world plunged deeper into the mire of the Last Days, there had been so much love in their house.

            As their daughter grew older, her insecurities diminished somewhat as she built an identity that brought her a sense of stability. She was no longer to be called Feifei, but Sophie, she announced on her first day of sixth grade. She no longer wished to eat the Chinese dishes Naomi had learned to make and didn’t want to hear about her old life. She even begged her mother to buy her hair coloring, though Charlie refused. A small family feud ensued, and eventually they compromised with bronze spunk. Sophie was thrilled.

            With Liping’s arrival, Naomi had spotted some of Sophie’s latent insecurities resurfacing. The others may not have seen it, but her mom didn’t miss a beat. She knew the signs. And despite her best efforts, she was feeling the beginnings of resentment towards Liping.

            She couldn’t blame her for Sophie’s abandonment, true, but her attitude since her arrival had been anything but motherly. Even if some of the things she was hearing were difficult to believe, the least she could do was try. To stop and listen! To put aside the stubborn skepticism for just a minute and think. She owed it to herself to at least do that. She owed it to Sophie.

            Naomi lifted the safety bar as the landing platform swooped into view. As the lift slowed, she stepped off. She grabbed the binoculars hanging from a hook on the outer wall of the power station and peered down the cable, assuring herself that no one else was riding the lifts. Satisfied, she returned the binoculars and killed the power. The chomping thuds of the station gears slowed and ceased.

            Naomi made her way up the gravel path to the center, and that’s when she saw her. Not twenty feet in front of her stood Adrina, wearing boots and khakis. One strap of a backpack was flung over her shoulder.

            “I’m sorry, Naomi,” Adrina said. “But I need to leave this place.”

***

            Naomi wore a look of pained bewilderment. “Leave? But why?”

            “It’s not you, really, you’ve been very kind to me...” Adrina said.

            “Then what is it? Has something happened? How are you feeling?”

            “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just don’t need to be here anymore,” Adrina answered firmly.

            You have no idea what you need, Naomi thought. “Have I done something? Something wrong?”

            Adrina shook her head. “It’s not you. Really, I just need to get outta here.”

            Naomi’s mind raced with a list of possible responses, possible questions, possible outcomes. Adrina had been the last on her list of people to fret over. Of the four, she’d shown the most potential for change. With no words left, Naomi walked quietly back to the power box and pulled the lever once again as the gears groaned to life.

            As the chair lifted them across the pines, Naomi prayed fervently.

            “I’m sorry,” Adrina whispered.

            “It’s ok. I know this must be difficult.”

            “It’s really not you…”

            “I appreciate that. You know, my family and I are doing our best to make things easier for you and the others. It’s a big job.”

            “Yeah, well, thanks.” Adrina wrapped her arms tightly around her backpack as a gust of wind pushed against the lift. “I should’ve taken the path.”

            “Don’t worry, it’s safe. We’ll be fine,” Naomi said, putting her hand on Adrina’s arm.

            “I’ve seen a woman jogging around this place. She works here too?”

            “Yes, her name’s Sophie. She’s my daughter.”

            “Daughter! What’s your secret? You look pretty good for what, forty or so?”

            “A little bit older than that actually,” Naomi said. She didn’t feel like talking.

            “She doesn’t look like you or your husband much, either.”

            “She’s adopted.”

            “Oh, I see. Chinese?”

            Naomi nodded.

            “I was a Mom once, you know.”

            Naomi didn’t miss Adrina’s effort at conversation. Was she guilty about leaving?

            “Really?”

            Before the resurrection of the unrighteous, welcome centers were provided with a dossier of relevant information regarding each candidate. Sometimes the details were surprisingly extensive–where the person lived and worked, what they liked to eat and drink, their family background, and so forth. At other times, the information was barely enough for one or two paragraphs. Adrina’s case had been the former. Naomi knew all about Adrina’s son but decided she wanted to hear it firsthand.

            This, too, was according to procedure. From the first day of their second life, candidates were encouraged to talk about their past experiences. It helped to build trust between them and their hosts, and it revealed how the resurrected viewed their previous experiences and lifestyles.

            “Yeah,” Adrina finally said. “Had a little boy. But I messed it up.”

            “Oh?”

            “I was just a kid. Sixteen. It was my sophomore year of high school. Feels like a lifetime ago, really. I’d just met Corey and he seemed alright. I know how dumb that sounds and how every teenager probably says the same thing, but with us it was really different. You know? I mean, we had our differences and all, but I thought that was cool. I figured things would work out in the end, that we’d get married. But... I guess it wasn’t my destiny or whatever. One day I’m feeling nauseous and bloated and sure enough, I find out that I’m pregnant. Just like that, bam! All my plans out the window. My future, career, everything. Gone. Just like that.”

            “How did you react when you found out?”

            “I was angry.”

            “With whom?”

            “I dunno. Myself, I guess. I felt so stupid. Another pregnant teenager. I remember going to the maternity section of this nasty thrift store and picking out all these shirts. They were all ugly and oversized, you know. None of my old clothes fit. I did a pretty good job of hiding it at first, but then people started figuring it out and word went around quick. High school, you know how it is.”

            “High school’s rough.”

            “But I guess I was angry at the baby too. Stupid, I know. I didn’t know any better then. I was scared.”

            “What happened after the baby arrived?”

            “It was crazy. I didn’t know a thing about caring for a baby. Corey pretty much vanished into thin air. Wouldn’t return calls. I went to his house once and his mom had a fit. He came around after the baby had been born, though. But during the pregnancy it was just me and mom.”

            “Were you still in school?”

            Adrina nodded. “I wanted to stick it out, you know, at least until graduation and everything, but the baby... it was too much. My mom was already working these two jobs, so she couldn’t do anything for it. I didn’t have a choice. I had to drop out.”

            “Then what happened?”

            “He was sick. The baby, I mean. Didn’t come out right. He was early, too thin, too small. They stuck him in an incubator before I could even hold him. But then, I wasn’t well either. I don’t even remember the actual birth. I know they had to cut me open, though. When I woke up I was full of tubes and needles. And the worst part was we were going broke. We were drowning in hospital bills. The insurance company refused to help. My mom had had a savings account since she’d started working, all this money she’d saved up for me to go to college. I don’t know how much was in there, probably at least ten grand. Well, after just a few days, it was gone. All of it. God, I felt so trapped, so angry at everyone. Life had been so unfair to me. But I guess you wouldn’t know any of that, living in a place like this.”

            Naomi bit her tongue. Keep her talking, she thought. “Did your baby eventually get better?”

            “No, not really.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “He died,” Adrina said, looking away suddenly.

            “I’m so sorry, Adrina. That must’ve been a terrible ordeal,” she said.

            The two were quiet for a few minutes as Adrina looked off into the distance, in the direction of the lake. Occasionally she sniffled and wiped her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve.         “You know, Adrina, this is another reason that I’ve wanted so much to begin studying that green book with you,” Naomi offered gently.

            “How’s a little book gonna help?” Adrina said scornfully.

            “Well, you won’t have to suffer anymore. And you will see your baby boy again. I promise you.”

            Adrina shook her head slowly. Suddenly she turned and glared at Naomi with an unexpected ferocity.

            “You don’t know the whole story, Naomi. Because if you did, you wouldn’t want me here. I don’t deserve any of this. Trust me. And that’s why I need to leave.”

***

            The truth was, Sophie had forgotten all about the language change. In fact, so had most of the Great Crowd. It had been a seamless and natural transition nearly two hundred years in the past. Now, language barriers were merely an amusing memory from the Old World, as curious as aging and disease.

            Sophie thought back to her childhood, when she was just a little girl coming to her new home. Even at four years old, the neural paths in her brain had been coded for the Mandarin language. She spoke it, she understood it, she thought it, she felt it, she dreamed it. Like virtually everyone else in the Old World, Sophie had been largely shaped by her mother tongue. Adapting to English had taken time. As a child, however, it’d been relatively easy. Years later, when Sophie was reintroduced to her mother tongue, it had sounded as foreign as English had the first time she’d heard Naomi and Charlie speak it in the Zhengzhou Adoption Center. Her mind had been completely re-coded. Without the frequent use of her mother tongue, the old synapses had gone rusty and eventually fallen apart altogether.

            The reunification of language had taken place shortly after Armageddon. It had been sudden, as much so as the original confusion of languages thousands of year prior in Babel. At the time, Sophie had been surrounded by native English speakers, so the change had come and gone without her being aware of it. Brothers and sisters in most areas had been similarly unconscious of the phenomenon. But eventually, as the friends meandered into other territories or managed to find ways to communicate, the new reality was startling and profound: the whole world now spoke a single tongue! In an instant, Jehovah had miraculously rewired the language synapses of every human being on the planet.

            But there was more. Along with the unification of language, Jehovah had endowed humans with a new ability–the ability to understand all written and spoken languages, including those of the past. This was especially appreciated by the research teams, who could now draw on the tremendous knowledge of cultures across the globe without the need of translators.

            The resurrected were brought back with these abilities innately. This included the unrighteous, though they were often unaware of the change. Because they now naturally processed thoughts in the new tongue and yet still could recall phrases and sayings in their previous mother tongue, they imagined that nothing had changed. To their  ears, the rest of the world had adapted to them. The truth, therefore, was difficult to accept.

            Sophie did her best to explain this all to Liping that morning as they sipped tea and picked at bowls of rice and pickled vegetables. For the first time that Sophie could remember, Liping had no criticisms about her cooking.

            “So you mean to tell me that I’m not speaking Mandarin now?” Liping asked.

            “Not as you remember it. But many Mandarin phrases and proverbs have been retained. Now we’re all speaking them,” Sophie said with a hopeful smile.

            “Well even if what you’re saying is true, I would think it’s a shame, really,” Liping said, jabbing her chopsticks into a porcelain dish and extracting a pickled radish.

            “Why?”

            “Chinese should speak Chinese. It’s our heritage, and it’s been so for five thousand years! To take that away, to try to just erase it, would be a great tragedy.” Liping’s brow was furled as she crunched the vegetables between her teeth. “It’s like the revolution,” she said in a low voice.

            “What revolution?”

            “Ah, you’re too young to know. But if you are really Chinese, you have a right to know about it. It’s part of your heritage, however painful.”

            “Tell me.”

            Liping sighed and set her chopsticks down slowly.

            “It happened years before I was born, but I heard the stories. Always whispered quietly, of course. People were afraid to speak out. My family suffered greatly. It was a time of paranoia, especially against the educated upper class, like my uncle’s family. They had a large house in the city, a good job, political ties. And then, one day, it was all gone. Have you heard of the red guard?”

            Sophie shook her head.

            “They were mostly students, young people in schools all across the country who were fiercely loyal to the communist movement. They were tasked with the destruction of things belonging to the ‘old culture,’ things that the government wanted to rid itself of in order to progress. Eventually, the red guard also targeted people.

            “They reported anyone who they thought was a ‘counterrevolutionary,’ including my uncle. He was accused of being a capitalist and dragged off to the countryside. He was forced into hard labor that he was untrained for. He tried to fight the revolutionaries and return home and was sent to prison. His family never heard from him again. More than likely, he was executed. Perhaps worse. And all of this started because of a man who thought that in order to progress, you had to strip a society of its past, its culture, and its language.”

            Liping brought a teacup to her pale, rigid lips. Her eyes had the look of stone. An icy aura enveloped her. Sophie imagined that if she were to reach out and touch Liping’s skin, her fingers would sting with cold.

            “So you see, young Sophie, the idea of losing my language–my heritage–is not a sweet one. You can understand that, can’t you?”

            Sophie tried to smile. “Yes, I suppose.”

***

            I begin this journal from the mountain summit somewhere (American Rockies?) far to the West of my last remembered days. It has been a strange time. My first memory here was waking up in a small wooden room. I wore not a scrap of clothing. My body was covered with a white sheet, the kind they use to cover up cadavers at the morgue in Cambridge. Clothing was provided in a small cabinet there in the room. I dressed, and when I opened the door I found myself emerging into a quaint garden on a hillside. It was rather pleasant, however bewildering.

            A man was there to meet me, a Charlie Lewis, or so he says. His mannerisms and mentality led me to believe he is an American, and he later confirmed this. Charlie took me to a balcony at the end of a path that was part of a larger structure, which Charlie and his family refer to as a Welcome Center. We ate a meal together there, and I have to admit that at this point I was famished beyond belief, as if I hadn’t eaten in many days.

            Charlie is not an educated man. He never attended university, and I am unsure of how we have come to be together. Charlie’s explanation of this was rather absurd, and I initially assumed it was all some sort of practical joke. He seems, however, to actually believe it. The gist of it (and I feel foolish even repeating it here!) is that we are living in a futuristic society hundreds of years beyond my last remembered moments in England. Animals are now at peace with man in a sort of paradisiacal setting that has spread globally. The globe has been freed of crime, wars, and sickness, and now the dead are coming back to life!

            According to Charlie, the one responsible is none other than Jesus Christ.

            You can see now why my original reaction to all of this was a good, hearty laugh. It must’ve been a full minute or two before I noticed that my poor host was completely puzzled as to why I might find this all so uproariously absurd. And so my second reaction was unease, and perhaps even a touch of fear.

            If history has taught us anything, it is that faith in the supernatural can lead to nothing but tragedy. Haven’t these people learned anything from the Crusades? Islamic terrorism? Holy wars? As peaceful and serene as things seem here, there is no doubt in my mind that somewhere, perhaps not far form here, a battle is being waged. Blood is being spilled.

            I’m left with images of the American pioneers from centuries ago, who probably trekked through these very mountains with their covered wagons and dwindling supplies and fever-stricken women and children, all for their dreams to find gold in California riverbeds. (After all, they believed, God was with them!) History will repeat itself, as it always does.

            In the meantime, I have a plan. So far, I have seen no means of contacting the outside world. No cellphones, no computers with internet access, not even a measly wired phone. No way at all to call for help. That is, until yesterday. I overheard a conversation between two women about a secret phone line that leads out of this building. I can’t say for certain if I can contact any outside numbers, but if I can locate the phone and find the right moment to place a call, I might just be able to start unlocking this mystery.

            Wish me luck!