Chapter 1: Missing in Atlanta

Stanley Barber, known to his friends as Stan, was fourteen years old and living in a suburb located in Atlanta, Georgia. Stan was like every other teenage boy in Atlanta. He played soccer for his high school, and was mostly a B student. He was respected by his peers and his friends.

Stan just wanted to live his life and enjoy it. He didn't want to bother anyone. Yet, that didn't stop him from facing one of the deadliest disasters that the world would face.

Stan had wondered why this had happened to him. Did he deserve to have to face this treatment? He may not have been a Christian, but that didn't mean that he deserved to be facing a miserable life and existence.

Stan had decided to hang out with some of his friends from the soccer team. His parents had said they would be praying for him. Stan rolled his eyes. His parents were clearly worrying about him way too much.

Stan had to careful when walking around in his neighborhood in Atlanta. Gang activity and malicious attacks had increased within the proximity of his suburban neighborhood. Atlanta wasn't the most dangerous place in the United States, but it wasn't the safest either.

Stan was walking to find his friends when all of a sudden, two senior students from his high school blocked his path. Stan almost let out a groan when he recognized them. Their names were Luis Morales and Jonathan Navarro. They were both very strong and well-bodied. But the two of them were also very arrogant and hostile towards other students at their school. Stan had witnessed them bullying a bunch of students on multiple occasions. He gulped as he realized what was happening. Now it was his turn.

Morales let out an ugly sneer.

"Where are you going, Barber?"

Stan didn't want to sound afraid, but he also didn't want to say the wrong thing and get into even more trouble.

"It's personal", Stan said as confidently as possible.

"You're sure Mommy would let you roam the streets at night?", Navarro asked cockily.

Stan tried to push past them. "It was great speaking to the two of you, but I've got to go."

"Don't walk away, Barber", Morales said in a threating manner. "Don't be rude. We're not finished, yet."

Now Stan wasn't sure at all about what to do. Both boys were bigger and stronger than he was. If he tried to fight them, he didn't stand a chance.

Before Stan could say anything, a car was veering in their direction.

"What the fuck?!", Navarro yelled.

Both Morales and Navarro let go of Stan as they fled for safety. Stan dove out of the way just before the car could hit him. Stan landed on the ground and was not even injured. He ran over to the car and saw that there were empty clothes in the front seat.

The driver is missing, Stan thought. How is that possible?

Stan tried to wonder about how this situation could have occurred. Maybe the driver had simply left the car unattended to and maybe the car somehow moved by itself down the street.

No, that doesn't make sense, Stan thought. Any sensible driver would have left the cark in park mode if they were going to leave the car.

Stan thought about walking down the street and asking people questions. Maybe someone would know something.

But as Stan made it down the street, he saw something haunting. He saw multiple pairs of clothes on the grass and people picking up those clothes in terror. It was clear that the people picking up those clothes were loved ones of the people that had abandoned their clothes.

Why is everyone abandoning their clothes? Stan thought. Is this some kind of secret national holiday where everyone is dressing up naked? What is all of this?

These events were clearly troubling Stan. He was perplexed.

He thought about finding his friends from the soccer team and asking them about their opinion about all of this. His parents might not have liked that idea, but…

Stan then froze in horror. His parents. If all of these missing clothes meant something…

Stan shuddered. He just realized what had happened. The Rapture had taken place. Jesus had taken his followers to heaven, and he had been left behind.

Stan put his face in his hands.