Genevieve and Jason sat on a swinging chair out in the garden.  It was just off the path and overlooked a beautiful fountain.  The smell of roses was in the air, and the sun was high.  Evan and the band were at a studio recording some songs for the producers, while Lamb and Ethan had gone along.  Eve and Jay were alone for the first time in days.

            “What did you mean before, about visions?”  She asked him.

            “I think that the dreams are things that have happened, or will happen.  It’s hard to tell.”  He tried to explain.  “There were so many, that I can’t keep track of them all.  It’s like a shattered stained glass window – I see parts of the picture, but can’t put it all together yet.”

            “Are you still having them?”  She asked, staring at her toe as it ran through the grass with the swing of the chair.  She had kicked off her sandals to savour the feel the green blades of grass as they tickled their way through the gaps between her toes.

            “Sometimes.”

            “Did you see the dragon?”  She asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

            “Yes.”  He answered.  “I saw it.”

            “Are you as afraid of these visions as I am?”

            “Yes.”

            “What do they mean?”  She asked.  “What’s happening to us?”

            “I don’t know.  But I’m working on a theory.  Have you been reading the old newspapers Lamb provided, the ones of the two months we were missing?”

            “Not really, he’s kept us so busy.”

            “Well, I have.”  He said.  “There has been fighting in Eastern Europe again, and there’s a lot of tension rising in the Middle East, too.  The United Nations is fighting about how involved they should be.  There have been earthquakes in India, California, and near home, in southern Ontario.  There have been storms, and floods, all through South and Central America, and along the coasts of Asia.  Africa has been hit with disease harder than it has been in years, and more people than ever are starving.”

            “So stuff’s happening all over.  It usually is.  What’s it all mean?”  She asked, not seeing his point.

            “Never in the history of the world has there been so much in so little time.  It’s like that hurricane was the first in a series of events that made the world a whole lot crazier than it’s ever been.  There have been crime sprees and riots all over.  I think that these events are signs.”

            “Signs of what?”  She asked, exasperated with the way he danced around the issue without ever saying anything directly.  Jay held up a book, and Eve noticed that it was a Bible.  He opened it.

            “Do you remember this?”  Jason asked, and he began to read: “‘And as he sat upon the mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying , Tell us , when shall these things be?  And what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?  And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.  For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many.  And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars:  see that ye be not troubled, for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.  For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes in diverse places.  All these things are the beginnings of sorrows.’  It’s from the book of Matthew, chapter  24.

            “The end of the world.”

            Genevieve stared at him for a moment, incredulous.  “You’re serious?”  She said, finally.

            “Extremely.”  He said solemnly.  Jason had always taken church very seriously, and had been one of the most devout in the group.  While the others had enjoyed the youth group and several youth-oriented events at church because of the social aspects, Jay had always enjoyed the sermons and reading the Bible more.  He preferred the days when the youth group discussed Scripture or talked about prayer to the days when they played basketball or floor hockey in the gymnasium in the church basement.

            “So what are we supposed to do?”  She asked him.  Genevieve stared at Jason for a moment, while he just stared at the ground.  “Do the visions tell you that?”

            She rose up out of the swing and stepped into the grass.  She spread her arms to take in the whole garden and looked at him, feeling anger and frustration.

            “Are we supposed to just watch it happen?  Is that it?  See all this, the whole world, wiped away?  Is that why we’re having these visions, so we know about it before it happens?  What good is that?”  She cried, looking at the sky.  “What’s the point?”

            “Maybe,” Jason spoke, his voice quiet, “Maybe we’re supposed to do something.  Maybe we have some role to play, and God wants us to know that.”

            “God?  You think God is talking to us?  That’s crazy!  You and me, two college students from a rural Ontario town, we’re in touch with God?”  She was clearly agitated.  So much had changed in their lives, and so much was inexplicable, that it felt as if her mind were straining, verging on being pushed to its limit and being snapped.  “You sound like some crazy televangelist or something.”

            “God talks to everyone, it’s just that not everybody can hear Him.  Not everyone listens.”  Jason said meekly.

            “You believe that?  That we were on that mountain because God put us there?  That we’re here now because God wants us to be?”

            “Well, how else do you explain it?  How else did we get off that plane and survive the hurricane?”  Jason said angrily, finally standing. 

            Genevieve had no answer.

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