“So how many?” she asked, dragging her eyes back to his face.
“About a dozen,” he managed to reply, instinctively knowing what she was talking about.
“Where were they?”
“Caged like animals. Some demon worshippers had them. Using them like cattle.”
Grace nodded grimly. Sam saw her fist clench. They shared a common hatred against demon worshippers. He’d taken her out on a mission once where they’d uncovered a similar but smaller nest. Sam hadn’t much enjoyed her expression as she’d killed every one of them she could. She’d smiled when she did it too.
He turned his back on her and finished drying himself off, then dressed quickly. Lastly, he toweled his hair dry, enjoying the pleasant sensation of having his hair exposed and clean. He put his hood back up and then strapped on his swords.
Grace watched him the whole time, but stayed silent, probably thinking about demon worshippers and what she’d like to do to them.
“Ready?” she asked eventually. Sam nodded and followed her out of the barracks and over to the mess hall, a good five minute walk away. They walked in silence which was absolutely fine with Sam. He really didn’t feel like talking.
The mess hall was not too dissimilar to a barracks building, but about twice the size. Inside, about thirty or so people sat at tables scattered about the large open space. Sam heard his stomach growl when he caught a whiff of the food bubbling in the large pots at the serving counter. Although he didn’t need much food, eating — like having a hot shower — was one of those rare pleasures that he looked forward to.
Currently, there were only a couple of people queuing up to be served. The cook, dressed in what had once been a white apron but now looked as grey as the ash outside, was stirring a pot without enthusiasm. Ignoring the stares from the other diners, he and Grace marched up to the counter, grabbed a tray and a plate each and received two boiled potatoes and a ladle of stew. It didn’t look like much, but as they took their places at an unoccupied table, Sam felt his mouth watering.
Without preamble, he tucked into his food. The potatoes were overcooked and dry and the stew lacked flavor. To Sam, it was delicious. Sometimes, he found himself craving rice but he knew that it was a crop that was just too thirsty, needing a great deal of water to grow — probably more than the base command could justify. The meat was unrecognizable but Sam suspected it was goat, given that most of the meat on the base was. Grace only picked at hers but then again, she’d probably eaten it every day since he’d been gone.
He finished and wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin, thinking about seconds. Grace’s was almost untouched and he eyed it greedily. When she saw what he was looking at, she pushed her plate at him with a tiny grimace that could’ve been the hint of a smile.
She waited patiently while he shoveled it into his face. “So. What do you think Adam and the Commander want to see you about?” she asked when he had finished for the second time.
Sam shrugged. “No idea. Adam seems to think it’s important. Why don’t you come and find out for yourself?”
She sneered at him. “Me? I’m not important around here. What makes you think I’d be allowed in some important meeting. Most of the time, people forget that I actually exist.”
“I don’t,” said Sam quietly, unable to meet her eye, looking down at his almost empty plate.
She muttered something under her breath that even Sam, with his exceptional hearing, couldn’t quite make out, but he got the impression that this appeased her slightly.
“So, have you heard about the church services?” she asked finally.
Sam shook his head, the last mouthful of food crammed into his mouth making it impossible to speak.
“You knew there was a chapel on the base, didn’t you?”
Sam nodded. Of course he knew. The church hadn’t been desecrated, so it was useless to the demons. Presumably, either demon worshippers or other agents had missed the one on this base — probably because the base had never been taken. He’d been there a few times but hadn’t dared enter the place or even the grounds for that matter. He wouldn’t take the risk. It was the first church he’d come across which still had the power to hurt him. And that was the sort of pain you didn’t forget in a hurry.
“Well,” she said, smiling contemptuously, “it seems there’s been a great rush of religious fervor going around here recently.”
Sam finished his mouthful and wiped his lips with a napkin. “What do you mean?”
“A few grunts have been going around spreading certain rumors.”
“About what?” Sam demanded.
“That if you repent now and welcome Jesus into your heart, you’ll still be saved and not spend eternity in Hell. Those that ask for forgiveness during the Tribulation will be spared when Jesus returns. That’s all the people around here care about now.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” said Sam. “Before the Rapture, none of these people believed in God or Jesus. But how can they not now? They’ve seen it with their own eyes. They witnessed the Rapture. Have been preyed upon and stalked by demons. Some might have even seen angels. Everything predicted by the Bible is now coming true. How can you still be in denial in the face of that proof?”
Grace snorted dismissively. “They may have said the words, but it’s only for their own self-preservation. Would you want to spend the rest of eternity in Hell?” She paused and looked at Sam slightly askance. “Well, maybe you’re not exactly a great example.” Sam smiled wryly at that.
“So anyway,” she continued, “the word is that if you say the right things or perhaps make yourself a martyr, He’ll forgive you when you die or get taken to Hell and eventually you’ll be allowed back into his kingdom — whether it be in Heaven or on Earth after Jesus returns.”
“So you aren’t going to welcome him into your heart?” he asked.
Grace looked at him for a moment before answering. “If Jesus is so good, why did he take my parents and leave me all alone in the world? Why did he allow everyone else I’ve ever known, including my aunty and uncle, to be taken to Hell to suffer endless torment? Is that the sign of a good and caring being? I don’t think so. You probably should reconsider as well. It’s alright for everyone else to redeem themselves and be forgiven but not you. It doesn’t matter what you do, you won’t be welcome in Heaven or in his Kingdom on Earth.”
Sam shrugged, not willing to get into this debate, primarily because a part of him agreed with her and it touched a raw nerve. Despite everything he’d done, everything he’d suffered and given up, he would never be allowed into Heaven. And he was one of the believers. He’d saved many innocents, just like he’d been instructed to do by the Archangel Gabriel. And his reward? Probably eternal suffering in Hell. Sam knew this was unfair but had resigned himself to it years ago. It didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt though. It was an open wound, which had a tendency to fester more and more these days.
“You should see them,” smiled Grace. “Piling up in the church. Standing room only. Most of them spill out into the grounds. I don’t know how they can hear the soldier-turned-preacher up in the pulpit. The hospital is almost as bad. You’d think God saved them and not the antibiotics.” She shook her head sadly.
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you just to accept Him rather than go through all this resistance?” he asked.
“Who?” she asked innocently.
“You know who,” he said. “Don’t be difficult. Do you really want to spend the rest of eternity in Hell when you can avoid it? You, more than anyone else around here, know what it’s like.”
Grace suddenly lent forward, her face intent, lips pursed. “You think you know me, don’t you, Sam?” she hissed. “But you really don’t. You’ve never bothered to ask. If you had, you’d know that my parents were do-gooders, true believers. Went to church every Sunday. They tried to make me read the Bible but I wouldn’t. Didn’t want to. It seemed pointless to me. And you know what? After a while they gave up — gave up on me. Left me to my own devices. Why didn’t they try a little harder? If they had, I wouldn’t have been left here all by myself. They must have known what could happen. Did I really mean that little to them?”