Father Sebastian Xavier was no stranger to despair and hardship. Having served in both the Vietnam War and the Gulf War, he became as hardened as any person could become. He was hoping to get some sort - any sort - of feeling back, and that was the deciding factor as to why he became a priest. After years of spilling blood and taking lives, he thought he needed to “give something back,” so to speak.
When he returned from the Gulf War, he was nothing more than a shell of a man, which made it easy for the Catholic church to mold him. He fell into the demands of the clergy easily and found it comforting to again be taking orders, just as he had in the military. When he was ready, he immersed himself completely in the church and divided his time by hosting masses, overseeing charity events and spreading the word of God. He loved his life, and was very good at what he did.
At 65-years-old, he was in peak physical condition for his age. If the Church would have allowed vanity to be something of a good thing, he would have been filled with it, and rightfully so. He still inwardly took pride in what his strength had accomplished in a fight he had a few years back - a fight that began when a group of three radical Atheistic men noticed his clerical collar and decided to give him a little trouble.
It started off innocently enough as a verbal argument, which in no way bothered Sebastian. He had always loved debating, and wasted no time in using the full scope of his powers to cut into the men. When the group found themselves in the position of being made the fools due to his uncanny wit and logic - odd traits to find in an official of any religion - they became overly frustrated. The tension rose, and things were got out of hand. The first mistake the Atheists made: One of them poked Sebastian in the chest. There weren't many things he couldn't handle, but that action, from anyone, really irked him.
Sebastian lost control at that moment, and he grabbed the man's wrist with his right arm, twisted it back and around, and head-butted the screaming man. He fell back into his primal instinct to fight, which the Marine Corps had sharpened to a razor's edge. Sebastian had taken great care to make sure that edge would never dull. By the time the first man had hit the ground, another one was already wading in with a punch. Sebastian ducked under the blow, came around behind the man while he was still fully extended and gave him a swift, but hard, punch to the kidneys. The man fell to his knees, coughed up a little blood, and wondered about the curious feeling of how one of his ribs now had a lot more play in it. The third man eyed the Father, looked at his two friends, and said he was sorry and slowly backed out of the room.
Even though it has been a defining moment in his post-military existence, Sebastian had decided never to share the tale of his fight with his brothers in the church. Even though he knew he should be, he wasn‘t ashamed of it. But he had an image to uphold. He knew he would be a soldier until the day he died, but now, he was soldiering for God.
He snapped out of his daydream and thought back to the moment at hand. For the past five days he had been looking for answers, just as much through prayer as footwork. "Where is everyone?" he thought aloud, probably for the hundredth time that day. The only contact he had made was his friend, Olaf Wiig, whom he had found crouched, crying in a corner of his own office.
Olaf's appearance had been unnerving, even in the mind of the Marine-to-priest Sebastian. He had seen many people in various states of hardship, but when he had first found Olaf, he couldn't help but to think the worst. The teachings he put the very stock of his life in had taught him that hell is complete separation from God - to be completely alone.
A shudder ran down Sebastian’s spine, and he thought about his situation.
Olaf had told him what had transpired up to the point of their meeting, which wasn't much different from Sebastian’s own situation. Five days ago, he had woken up, the same as he had every other morning. But, this time, he found no one there.
Sebastian didn‘t have any real answers, but he suggested to Olaf that not everyone could be gone. After all, they had at least found each other.
Olaf told him about his desperate cry for help over the CNN network. “I just got done doing it! I mean, you walked in right after it was done! It was like a miracle, Father!” Olaf blurted, tears of relief and happiness running down his ample cheeks.
“Calm down, my son! Everything is going to work itself out. It is God’s way,” Sebastian cooed to him, hoping to get the man to at least stop crying.
Olaf snapped his head up and stood erect, as if the priest’s words were equivalent to something ridiculing his mother. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he glared at Sebastian and steadied his quivering chin.
“Father, I don’t think God wants us any more,” he said firmly. “I’m going home to clean up. I’ll be back in 45 minutes.”
Sebastian sat down, stunned. He’d heard people from his Church say those exact words many times, but never had he heard them with such clarity. Not since his military tenure had he found himself in a situation where those words could truly mean something to him.
His mind was full of questions: What of the disappearances? Has it just happened in this town? Is it real? Has God really forsaken us?
He felt a heavy sense of abandonment that he couldn't quite explain. But there was one lingering word that kept coming unbidden into his mind.
Revelations.
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