Apocalyptic Musings Concerning Accidental Guardians

The eight Elders stood beside each other in a semicircle, a good twenty feet from the fifteen strangers and their well-worn motorcycles.  Elder Martin took in the poorly maintained shotgun carried by the spokesperson of the group, a Benelli M1014, 12 gauge riot gun.  The rough looking biker took a few steps forward while talking.  Martin noticed him adjust and tighten his fingers around the shotgun's modified pistol grip as he continued to babble on about "just passing through."  The other strangers held similar weapons at various stages of readiness.  

Martin sensed Elder John, the sixty year old retired navy SEAL next to him, as he gently shifted his weight to his good leg as the leader slowly closed the distance.   A slight breeze caused the Elder's muslin robes to lightly flutter.  The leader stopped walking forward and talking.  He was close enough for Martin and John to smell.  He smiled, showing rotting teeth that went well with his greasy hair and filthy clothes.  Martin kept his eyes locked on the stranger and recited softly, in a friendly, even welcoming tone, the Elder’s Golden Rule, “He who hesitates is lost.”  Elder John cocked an eyebrow.

The spokesman for the "visitors" saw the eyebrow rise and also caught a low movement as something like a stick lifted Martin's robe from underneath. He saw the polished bluing of the gun barrel appear from below the drape of muslin material. Realizing, too late, that his attention had been professionally diverted in several directions, he looked up to see a slight smile on Martin's lips just as the Elder's own 12 gauge Mossberg exploded, virtually cutting the biker in half due to the short distance between them. The other strangers didn't stand a chance as similar gun reports, from the other Elders, ended the meeting in short order. 

When the echoing sound of gunfire subsided, Martin's smile had been replaced by a look of sadness. The villagers immediately set about quietly removing bodies and dismantling the motorcycles as the Elders, just as quietly, turned and reentered the meeting hall from whence they’d come.  

He who hesitates is lost.

-- The Old Guard (excerpt from the prologue)

I wrote this prologue about ten years ago. It was a story I considered writing in the late 1990s and which life events put on hold. I eventually I forgot about it as I struggled with my divorce, the tragedy of 911, and Hurricane Katrina's attempt at wiping out my parents. I may yet find the time to elaborate on it to see where the adventure takes me.

The story's premise originally came to mind as a premonition of future events I could see on our horizon.  The collapse of law enforcement and, by extension, civilization as we know it, will give rise to a multitude of different groups, within our own country, which have been waiting years for an opportunity to take advantage, and many other gangs, the criminal element, that simply want to seize the moment in order to have their flash of faux importance as they feed off the carcass of what the other, stronger groups, leave behind.  Almost all will certainly clash over their differing philosophies on how to go about rebuilding a society.  Compounding the disaster will be enemies from without that will see this opportunity to capture our lands and possibly save their own countries from ruin.

In the midst of apocalyptic stories are always the common people; the people with great fear and great dreams, wishing only to survive in the all too real danger of a virtually lawless frontier where insane criminal gangs, mainstream religions and religious fanatics, militias and military strongholds, all vie for power and control over some piece of real estate and the people that call it home.  There will be safety in numbers, and the numbers had better be armed and ready to fight for their survival, for God, mom, and apple pie.

We can only hope, somewhere in this insanity, guardians with a moral sense of purpose will rise from the ashes.  It will probably start with military Special Ops teams that consider this mess as a job not done.  They have served to kill, die, and live like there is no tomorrow.  What will they do when tomorrow shows up broken?  I'm banking that they'll survive.  They'll survive by assisting others to survive, to fight, and to live.  They will find a higher purpose in burying what's dead and starting over, one person at a time.  Like politics of today survival will be all about us and them.  Us will survive at any cost and if them doesn't like it, they better find a rock to crawl under.  You can lead, follow, or get out of the way and not survive.

The apocalyptic stories we see in the movies or read about in fiction seem ready to have a lone hero, or a small band of "good-bad" guys, battling the real evil of the land.  But, what if this "disaster" gives rise to the best of those best which we have produced?  What if our soldiers, lacking any cohesive higher echelon, actually find a righteous purpose beyond the political and military gamesmanship they were trained to undertake?  What if the militaristic rewrite of Lord of the Flies as told in Francis Ford Coppola's, Apocalypse Now, stars military men and women that truly give a shit about protecting the innocent and the tattered remnants of society and law?  It is a given that action, and not negotiation, is their preferred modus operandi, so hesitation in any given situation would be frowned upon.  They are trained to know.  If they have to guess they're trained to base it on their best analysis of a given situation and then, right or wrong, they act, and hope they're right.  They wing it.

I love watching different takes on "end of world" scenarios.  Unfortunately too many of these scenarios of doom rely on action, more action, and then, when all else fails, still more action, death, and destruction.  No one looks at character development.  No one looks into the hearts and minds of the heroes and the fodder.  We are given very little to connect with.  Apocalypse Now gave it a good try, but it went a bit overboard and became really too dark for most folks.  I'm not sure many civilians got it.  Hell, Nam was confusing for everyone as was Cambodia and Laos, but then, we were never officially there.

I'm certain I'll find a moral to this story before I finish it.  Bad things happen to good people?  Maybe that good people only find their true calling when things turn to shit around them?  Or, maybe that God can be found at the armpit of the world, and one's faith can be discovered when all else is lost.  Maybe I'll simply find that an old acronym, from my days of plotting nuclear destruction, has more meaning at the end.

WRATGAS

(Who Really And Truly Gives A Shit)

Who really and truly gives a shit?  Let's pray to God someone does.  Maybe it'll have to be us. 

Editor's Note 

(re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card) 

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider another viewpoint. 

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and then engaging in peaceful, constructive, discussion in an arena of mutual respect concerning the opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we do afterward, and what we learn from the experience.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, and instructor. He is founder of the Congregation for Religious Tolerance and author/editor of the Congregation's official blog site, "The Path," which offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination.