Angels Lost In Darkness – The Resurrection
"Come down from the cross and save yourself!" In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself!" - Mark 15: 30-31
I.
She awakens to darkness. Darkness and a sharp ringing in her ear. Darkness and a sharp ringing in her ear, and a dull throbbing ache in her head. She tries to move her arms but quickly finds that she can barely wiggle them against her sides. She makes an attempt to move her head but finds she can only move it marginally to the side, causing the ringing and throbbing to suddenly become more intense. She feels a heavy weight pressing down on her, feels her chest tighten and her heart race as she struggles to remain calm while she assesses her situation. She can feel something against her face, soft like cotton, and as she wiggles her fingers once again she realizes that the soft cotton is wrapped completely around her body. She closes her eyes, though it doesn't really matter if they're closed or open, the blackness around her shows no sign of light. Struggling to keep her breaths calm and steady she wiggles her right hand, wiggles and stretches her fingers until she feels the cotton shift and something cold and crumbly slipping between her fingers. She grasps it, runs it through her fingers and lets out a choked gasp as she suddenly understands what the crushing weight is against her. Dirt. Georgia red clay to be exact. She's been buried. Buried alive.
Closing her eyes tight she lets out a shaky breath and feels a single tear roll down her cheek and deep inside the recesses of her mind she hears a voice, a voice she doesn't recognize, utter words that she's sure she's never heard.
"I don't cry anymore."
So she steels herself, and doesn't let another tear fall as she once again begins the process of wiggling her fingers, pulling at the cotton coffin around her, flexing her legs and feet, being mindful to keep the cotton securely around her face, reserving her breaths in the small pocket of air that has been gifted to her.
There was a reason she woke up, and it wasn't to die.
She counts each breath she takes, makes sure every inhale is short and shallow and not greedy. The lack of oxygen is making her light headed but she doesn't stop, keeps kicking her legs, trying to push the dirt up and away from her until finally she no longer feels the heavy weight of the earth pressing down on her ankles and shins.
She allows herself a slightly larger breath of air for her victory before wiggling her arms free of the cotton sheet and begins the painstaking task of pushing the remaining dirt up and away from her torso. The increased movement forces the cotton around her face to shift and fall against her nose and mouth with the weight of the dirt nearly suffocating her.
Her time is up, and with a final desperate push she feels the earth give way and her arms are finally free. Quickly she claws at the dirt covering her face, pushing it down toward her middle until she sees light through the cotton. White, the cotton sheet is white, and she lets out a strangled sob that bubbles into a giggle as tears now freely flow from the corners of her eyes.
These are tears of joy, and so she will allow them.
With shaky hands she pulls the cotton away from her face and takes a lungful of the humid summer air before collapsing beside her shallow grave.
The Resurrection
He'd been forced to go further and further out, away from the safety of the perimeter he had established months ago in order to get the supplies he needed to survive. He traveled with the denseness of the woods as his cover, marking trees with different symbols for his land marks. He'd been here before, in the winter. Found this church nestled in the woods, but didn't have the gall to disturb it at the time.
Things had changed.
He frowns when he notices that someone had already disturbed the House of God before he had the chance to. The area was surrounded with bodies of Walkers, large metal spears that look to be pieces of the Church's organ surrounding the entrance, the large wooden doors wide open. Cautiously, he steps inside, weapon drawn as he hovers just inside the threshold, taking in the scene around him. The inside was just as gruesome as the outside. The place was torn to shreds, Walker bodies strewn across the floor, mostly headless.
Stepping around the corpses and debris he makes his way to the altar, rummaging through items on the table in front of him, trying to find anything of use, when from the corner of his eye he spots a bulky blue duffel bag stowed in a darkened corner of the room. With a chuckle he abandons the table and makes his way over to the bag, Pulling it open he finds a miracle.
With a hearty laugh he grazes his fingers lightly over the bounty of weapons, half afraid they'll disappear under his touch. Pulling out one of the rifles, he spots a folded up piece of paper. Settling on the floor he pulls out the paper and isn't too surprised to find that it's a map. It's when he unfolds it and reads the message scrawled at the bottom that he finds his second miracle.
"SORRY, I WAS AN ASSHOLE, COME TO WASHINGTON. THE NEW WORLD'S GONNA NEED RICK GRIMES."
His eyes follow the thick dark line that traces it's way from Georgia north to D.C. And he thinks for a moment that he could maybe track his old friend down.
The signs are all there.
He swallows thickly and folds up the map, stuffing it in his back pocket when he hears the familiar snarls of the Dead outside. He draws his pistol once again and makes his way back outside. His eyes scan the perimeter and he quickly finds three walkers limping their way towards the small cemetery just a few yards off. He's about to holster his weapon and head back inside when he spots a pile of white on the ground just a few feet ahead of the Walkers.
Making his way down the steps he raises his pistol and shoots one of the Walkers in the back of the skull. The sounds catches the attention of the other two and they change their direction, now moving their way towards him. He fires twice more, dropping both Walkers with ease before making his way to the pile of white that had initially drew their attention.
As he nears, it doesn't take him too long to realize it's a body wrapped up in a cotton white sheet. He frowns as he looks at the lifeless body then to the shallow ditch beside it. He hesitates, debating whether to just leave the body or bury it proper as was obviously the intention. With a sigh he takes a step back when the sheet moves and he sees a flash of blonde hair. His jaw sets as he raises his gun once again, taking aim to put the Dead down when an arm in a dirtied cast weakly rises up from the cotton.
"I'm alive."
The voice is hoarse and barely audible but he hears it just the same and is quick to lower his weapon and now clearly hears her mantra.
"I'm alive."
"I'm alive."
"I'm alive."
"For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve." - Corinthians 15:3-5