Solutions: The Dilemma of Faith - James Gerard (books for new readers txt) 📗

ocean spray hit the face.

 

The pounding surf beckoned her even closer with an invitation to get acquainted with its turbulent nature.  Eyes watched in awe as an unseen force humbled the raw energy of the prideful swells and crested waves and sent them pounding onto the sand.  Tempted further, she strolled up to the very edge to witness the aftermath of the waves’ demise and could see the foamy conglomeration of water and sand that came rushing in and its remains flowing out with each wave’s death.  In witnessing such a spectacular show of power, the loneliness subsided.  Mary could feel the humbleness now occupying the thoughts as she stood in the presence of an overwhelming power that dwarfed any that she had witnessed before. 

 

Gaining confidence, she dared to temp the awesome force.  Stepping closer to a wave about to crash, she stood anchored, unafraid of the surge of water rushing in.  A giggle gushed forth as the cold water submerged the feet and rose above the ankles.  An impulse to flee the force that was attempting to swallow her up in its rage was squashed by its inability to knock her off the solid ground that was below its murky flow.  She found it strange how such joy in both body and mind could conquer the fierce veracity and the relentless cycle of fear that the ocean evoked, but somehow it did.

 

As she waded through the gentle surf, calmness became a companion on the stroll down the beach.  Mary had forgotten all about the objective and the rage that prompted the journey.  She thought if only they’d reassigned me here, even if it meant forced into the grueling job of maintaining the roads, I’d be happy.  If only they would reassign me to some shack as a dwelling unit so I could know peace.  But she knew to hope for such a thing from the Council was futile—she was a fugitive.

 

Looking ahead, she spotted the houses that the driver had mentioned.  They seemingly were perched high above the sand and safe from the danger of the crashing waves.  She knew even if it were possible, if they had the capacity for forgiveness, they would never allow such a lowly worker to live in near proximity to the idyllic setting.

 

The rage of the ocean was rising.  A cold breeze was becoming bitter as the sun slowly made its way below the horizon and took the warmth with it.

 

Unprepared for the chilly night, Mary stared at the lighted faces of the houses which looked nothing like what she had imagined them to look.  She expected to see enormous concrete blocks, but the units, the houses, looked small and limited in space.  They most likely provided safe and secure dwelling for a family from either the elite or ruling class.  And even though she looked to the road with the intention of continuing the path to the city, she desperately wanted to go up to one of the houses and seek warmth, but even she knew it would be considered a vulgar and illegal act by its occupants.

 

The breeze picked up velocity and turned into a howling wind.  A blanket of cold penetrated the bones.  Teeth chattered as she walked up to the road.  Eyes scanned the open, dark terrain searching for cover.  If there was a clump of bushes that could shield the wind, a spot of sand still warm from the heat of the day, she would be happy.   But the terrain was dominated by wild grass that had been reduced to stubble and left to wither from the heat of the day.  Mary figured the best way to stay warm was to continue the trek down the darkened road to the city that might provide some sort of physical comfort. 

 

With each step the rage that had fueled the journey was turning inward and consumed the mind with fear and doubt.  She had not considered there would be no assigned housing unit to escape the elements, no hot food provided to fill the belly, and no valid identification card to stave off any that might become suspicious of her aimless wanderings.

 

The cold of the night stole the longing of the desire to find the solution to the puzzle of that night.  The man, a believer in an entity that the state rejected, an enemy to all those who passionately served the people, would be a welcomed sight.  By propaganda, rumor, and speculation only, the believers existed to fulfill the comforts that the state could not, and she longed for that man for comfort while walking through the cold of the night.  Reaching a rise in the road, an enveloping glow low in the night sky revealed the city’s position.

 

A truck sped by.  Mary screamed out for help.  The truck came to a screeching halt.  Mary’s heart beat rapidly.  She raced ahead with flailing arms and screaming for attention.  Closing in she saw the driver poke his head out of the driver’s side window, but just when she thought the driver was willing to help her out of the bitter weather, the truck rolled out and sped ahead.

 

“Wait,” cried Mary.  “Please help me.”

 

The plea fell on deaf ears.  The taillights were far ahead and fading fast.  Hope was left stranded on the side of the road. 

 

Mary could not estimate the time it would take to reach the city limits, but to stop walking, to eliminate the only source of heat sustaining her in the cold was overwhelmingly not an option.  With eyes staring intently at the glow, she fought off the bitter cold and continued the journey to the city.

Caution in the City

 Exhausted, lost, feet blistering from pounding the pavement all night, hungry and cold, the unrelenting circumstances grew more severe as the rising sun had given way to a summer storm that poured down rain.  Mary thought she could escape the torrential rainfall by stepping into a doorway, but with the wind blowing strong, sheets of spray saturated a body already shivering from the cold night’s journey.

 

All around her maintenance crews, donned with rain suits sheltering them from the storm, tended to the debris that was washed to the curb and cluttered the sidewalks and streets.  Workers on foot, also sheltered from the storm by rain suits and umbrellas, marched to their assigned positions.  Cyclists, donning their bright yellow suits, raced to offices.  Security vehicles slowly rolled up and down the streets seeking those who dared to violate the rule of law, while others were parked in bustling intersections carefully eyeing all that passed by.

 

The eyes longingly looked at all those sheltered from the rain and the heart ached for such comfort.  But all she could do was remain huddled in the entryway of some unknown building suffering from soaking clothes and water streaming off the top of the head and onto bare feet.  Mary even considered, almost hoping to be spotted, for someone to see her lurking in the doorway and bring about a confrontation.  That was she would be taken prisoner and thrown in the back of a dry, warm cruiser and delivered to a warm room for questioning.  Even a hot cup of coffee might be offered.  Fear, however, eliminated the desire.

 

“Where’s your umbrella?”

 

Mary jumped then looked up.  She was prepared for the worst.  In an instant rage coursed through the veins as the face of the officer was recognized.

 

“You,” she stuttered out.

 

“What are you doing here Mary?”

 

“You traitor,” she shouted.  An impulse to lunge out at the officer raged, but before the impulse could be carried out a cruiser came to a screeching halt.  Two officers jumped out and drew their pistols.

 

The officer casually waved his hand, “It’s okay.”

 

The two officers approached with weapons aimed at Mary.

 

“Who is she?”

 

The officer turned to the two, “She’s on the Council’s staff.  Seems she had a bit too much to drink last night; you know how they get sometimes.”

 

“Well get her home before someone figures out what’s going on.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

As the two returned to the cruiser, Mary laughed.  With a rush of warmth kindled by the rage, the mind heated up to the idea that the man standing before her, an officer who had taken an oath to serve the state, had flat out lied.  And it just was not the fact that he had lied, but he had lied to protect her.

 

The cruiser sped away.  She stared directly into his eyes and detected a hint of compassion.  “Are you a believer?”

 

The officer smiled.  “You’re a wanted woman Mary.  Next time he may not be there to make sure you’re saved.”

 

“He?  You mean God?  She laughed.  “Well, you are a believer.”

 

“Why are you here Mary?”

 

“Like you don’t know?  I want to know what’s going on.  I want to know who that man was from a few nights ago.  Why was he wearing that cross?  Why did they ransack my apartment for the photo?  Why was Councilman Neumann there?  I want to know….”

 

“Whoa,” the officer blurted out.  “Calm down.  Why do you need to know all of that?”

 

Mary hesitated then scowled at the officer.   “It’s none of your business why?”

 

“Who is he to you?” the officer asked as he stepped towards her.

 

“Get away from me.”

 

“Mary, I can only do so much for you.  They’ll be back around.”

 

“I demand answers,” she screamed.

 

The officer looked around as if to detect any eyes or ears focused on the conversation.  “You have to find Councilman Neumann for the answers.”

 

“You gotta be joking.  You want me to go and see Councilman Neumann?”

 

“If you want the answers then yes.  He's the one you have to ask.”

 

“If you’re a believer, then you have to help me.”

 

“I am Mary.”

 

“No, you have to help me!”

 

“Mary, look around.  You’re so close.”

 

“Close?  Close to what?”

 

Mary cried out “stop” as the officer turned his back on her and walked away.

 

With the rain still pouring, the rage that had temporarily provided warmth quickly subsided.  The cold and wind driven rain delivered the chill back to the bones.  Once again she stood alone in the doorway, huddled as far in a corner as possible to try to escape the unrelenting bitterness, but the uncontrollable shivering could not fend off the cold’s brutal sting.

 

Clanging erupted from across the street.  Mary looked to see a young man expose the interior of a building by sliding a heavy metal door open.  She watched as two other young men dragged stacks of rusted metal chairs atop a concrete floor, while two young women rolled out rickety looking wooden tables.  Towards the back stood a table venting steam with stacks of plates and mugs on either side.  Through a narrow slit in the rear wall she spotted two others doing something, but before the imagination could stir up an explanation, the aroma of savory food wafted about the air.

 

The mouth began to water.  Thoughts of a piping hot plate of anything edible began to root just under the subsurface of the mind.  From its shabby look the hope sprang up and into the light in realization that the place was a meal center for the common workers busy with their assigned menial tasks.  The hope blossomed in considering it was a meal center in which the lowly servants may take pity on her and fulfill the desires.

 

She eyed the center longingly wishing to escape the torrent