On the platter rested a plate with a sandwich, a few pickles, some potato chips, and a glass of warm water. Ice was a luxury that wouldn’t exist until winter came or the power was back on. The Teacher took to it like a half-starved lion gorging itself on a wounded doe. “You are a good servant, Thomas.” In the middle of chewing a big bite, he asked, “How many in our group are here?”
“Well, Teacher, some of these have left too. There are still about fifty. And …” Thomas trailed off, considering the words he had practiced.
“And what?” Teacher asked, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of chicken sandwich.
“Well, there are maybe three hundred followers outside the hotel, camped on and around the grounds. They are waiting to hear from you. They are scared about the sky and waiting for you to tell them what this means and what they are supposed to do next. Many are saying this is Armageddon and you are the Second Coming. Also, many are wondering if we are going to continue to go west or stay here. But, if we stay here, we will run out of food soon.”
Thomas had been waiting to ask the Teacher these things since the power went out ten days ago. They had been in this hotel outside Joliet for two weeks. Everyone knew this was something big and permanent. Since what some of the Teacher’s people were calling the “Event,” there had been no power, no cars operating, and all their electronic devices appeared to be dead. Brooklyn—no one could remember his name, only that he came from Brooklyn, New York—had found a little battery-powered portable radio in the basement. Excitedly, he brought it up, yelling that it worked. When he turned it on, it did appear to work; he twirled the dial, searching for a station from anywhere. It played static, which after silence sounded almost magical; at least that was something. Then, less than a minute later, came a clicking noise like an invisible hand reached in and squeezed the insides dead. Now it was just another piece of electronic junk.
He watched the Teacher leisurely chew his sandwich. It seemed that after each bite, his face curled into a poised smile, as if he had known this was all going to happen and he was in complete control. Thomas had grown to both love and fear this man, who appeared to have control over the elements, able to call up the auroras and the electricity that seemed to be everywhere. He had performed healing miracles, too; he’d brought back a blind man’s sight. Thomas was starting to think the Teacher really was a messenger from God. Who knows, maybe he was the Second Coming like some of his followers claimed.
After swallowing the last morsel and washing it down with a large sip of his tepid water, the Teacher wiped his lips with the white linen napkin and leaned back in the plush lounge chair, a luxury afforded by the presidential suite. He stared at Thomas for a disquieting couple of minutes. Was he sizing him up or was he just bored? Thomas nervously scratched at his palms.
“Thomas, are you scared of something?” he asked, crossing his olive-toned legs, which jutted out from his stark white linen bathrobe.
“Me? Hell no. What I gotta be scared of? I know you’ll tell us what to do,” Thomas answered fairly quickly and truthfully.
“Make an announcement now that I will speak later today. I will let everyone know my plans then. Do that for me?”
“Yes, Teacher.” Thomas pivoted on his toe and started toward the door, a little more unnerved each second.
“Thomas?” the Teacher called out behind him.
“Yes, Teacher,” he answered. Now he wanted out of the room, which felt more and more like a jail cell.
“Thank you for the sandwich. Would you take this away?” he said, waving his hand over the tray that had been cleaned of its food, only a couple of crumbs remaining. Thomas grabbed it and scurried toward the door. “Then, I want you to do one more thing,” the Teacher added.
“Yes, of course. What is it?” Thomas was almost begging to get out of the room by his tone and stance.
“Go now and feed my children. They are hungry.”
He realized instantly what the Teacher meant and that they were going to be leaving very soon. He nodded and then sprang out the door, handing the tray to one of the five people just outside who had obviously been listening to the whole conversation.
“Here”—Thomas couldn’t remember the man’s name—“you take this and don’t bother the Teacher unless he calls for you.” The other four waited to hear Thomas’s instructions for them. It seemed odd to Thomas that their entire group looked to him as the de facto leader. He hadn’t asked for this, but somehow in the last ten days Thomas wound up in charge of their group. In a way, the Teacher informally chose Thomas as his favorite, as he was always the one the Teacher asked for. He liked the responsibility and he had to admit he liked the power that came with his responsibilities. If he snapped his fingers, someone would come running. It was weird that no one even questioned this power transfer, or why he was the benefactor of Teacher’s benevolence, which probably should have gone to John, as the most senior in their group.
Thomas did overhear John tell another in the group that it was unfair that he wasn’t chosen over Thomas for that same reason. “Besides,” John continued, “when Jesus died on the cross, it was John who Jesus said was the disciple he loved most.”
That was the only murmur of discontent from anyone.
Thomas smiled at this thought as he turned down the hallway of the hotel, the four others in tow. They walked through the lobby and then out the front entrance into a throng of anxious people, which appeared to have doubled since he spoke with some of them yesterday.
Many of these people stood up immediately, also recognizing Thomas as the confidante of the Teacher. “There he is,” murmured a few.
Others approached. Thomas held up his hands as an assertive sign to hold the crush back from proceeding any farther. “The Teacher,” he belted out as loud as he could, “will make an announcement sometime later today. He has a plan for all of you and he will announce it later.” Thomas dropped his hands and was about to turn when the questions and statements poured out. “What will we eat till then?” “How long do we wait?” “Where should we stay?” “We’re thirsty!”
Thomas remembered the Teacher’s last command and thought of the remaining supplies in the kitchen, thankfully well stocked just before the Event. He had intended this food for the Teacher and their group, even though it wouldn’t last long. But Teacher had said “Feed my children,” so that must be what he meant.
He held his hands out again, quieting the murmurs. “We will bring you some food. And water. Just be patient. The Teacher will make sure you are all cared for.” He hoped that’s what the Teacher would say, anyway.
Thomas turned around and nearly ran into the four who had followed him out and a couple more of the Teacher’s high-up people, right there, waiting for instructions. He gave them directions for fixing food and bringing it outside. He grabbed a few others to go about finding and setting up a food station.