“They’ve seen us! They’re coming around!”
There was a moment where he felt completely weightless, like he’d floated up from the cot, and then there was warmth. Soft, gentle warmth from a sunny day.
Oskar took a deep breath, easier than he’d been able to breathe for a long time, and his eyes opened automatically. Blue sky overhead, so vibrant that the colors didn’t seem real.
Something was different inside him, but he couldn’t tell what it was. It took a full few moments to realize he felt… good. No pain, no hunger, no chills, no fever. He sat up, feeling grass beneath him. His body moved easily. No pain in the limbs, or weakness in the muscles. He felt like he could get up and run a marathon.
“DAD!” He was suddenly hit full-tackle, back into the grass by something moving so fast he barely registered it before being knocked flat.
He responded the only way he knew how, and rolled, forcing his attacker over onto the grass beside him. Only then did he get a proper look at her. She looked familiar. “-wait.” He croaked without thinking and held her out at arms-length, getting a proper look. “Flora?”
She had tears rolling down her unfamiliar face. “Yeah. It’s me.”
“You’re…” Oskar was breathing hard, stuck in brainlock. “You’re so big! You’re-”
She was an adult. A grown woman, with a mature face, and streaks of grey in her hair. The youthful vitality and energy didn’t quite mesh with her apparent age, but it was the only thing that was immediately recognizable as his teenage daughter.
“How long was I in that camp?” He heard himself mumble.
“The rest of your life, old friend.”
Oskar looked, tearing his eyes away from Flora to see a face that he recognized. It was Matheo, but the older man seemed younger than Oskar could ever remember seeing him. The distinguished grey had faded, skin becoming healthier, but it was unmistakably him.
And then it hit him. Where he was. How he must have gotten there.
As Flora threw her arms around him again, Oskar broke down weeping on her shoulder, hugging his daughter tightly against him.
~~/*\~~
He wasn’t sure how long it had gone on, but by the time he and Flora had both cried themselves out, Matheo had set up a picnic for them. “There aren’t a lot of set rules for this kind of thing, but almost all of us welcome someone back with a meal.” Matheo reported. “The ‘Returning’ is almost always done in a private spot, and they’re always met by someone. We figure it’s to get past the initial shock before you get inundated with people wanting to welcome you back.”
Flora nodded. “And there will be a party later, with you as the guest of honor. People are coming back all over the place.”
“I’m still trying to convince myself this isn’t just a really intense dream.” Oskar murmured. “What if I wake up, and I’m still in the Camp?”
Matheo laughed grimly. “Perish the thought. Though I admit, when the Camp was liberated, I had the same fear for a few days. Recovery took a while.” He sighed, looking at Oskar, alive and well. His daughter was still clutching at his hand, unwilling to be parted. “You almost made it, brother. You came so close. A day later, we were rescued.” He opened the picnic basket, and tossed Oskar a fruit.
Oskar caught it automatically, and froze when he realized what it was. He clasped the orange in his hand like it held all the treasures of the world. He put it to his nose, breathed the scent in deeply. He thought he had no tears left, but somehow more came. “I don’t know why I’m blubbering like this. Took less than two days to get my eyes clear in the Camp.” He drew in another deep smell of the orange. “For me, that was ten minutes ago. Literally.”
“Funny thing, isn’t it? You cry out all the tears that pain can give you, but happiness is like an untapped spring.” Matheo agreed knowingly.
Oskar sank his fingers into the orange and ripped it apart, the juices flowing over his fingers as he ate. The citrus flavor exploded into his mouth. It was so fresh, so juicy, and so flavorful that Oskar wondered if he’d ever really tasted an orange before. He ate eagerly, tears rolling down his cheeks.
After getting himself back under control, Oskar looked at his daughter again, now an adult. “So. How long? Ten years? Fifteen?”
Flora winced. “Longer than that.” She said quietly. “A lot longer.”
~~/*\~~
Flora and Matheo spent a day giving Oskar the broad points. They’d led him on a walk through the village, close to the town where they’d all lived together. It had changed dramatically, but the scenery hadn't. The mountains were still the same, and the stars at night were right where they’d always been. Now that he thought about it, it was easier to see the stars. The air seemed cleaner than he could ever remember it being.
“There have been… changes to the way towns are built over the years, back in the Old Days.” Flora said lightly as they walked through the streets of their old town. “Nowadays, the whole world is building homes for Returnees.”
“The early Returning is devoted to people who were followers of Jehovah, though there are some isolated exceptions. We get notice in advance of who is coming, and when. Some people are predicted to arrive years in advance. Usually, we find out a few days ahead.” Matheo explained. “The hard part, so far at least, is overlap.”
“Overlap between what?” Oskar asked.
“People who all want to live back at their old ‘home’. In some parts of the world, that’s nearly fifty generations, you go back far enough.” Flora told him. “We were lucky. Our village was more or less untouched until the borders were drawn. There’s only a few generations of people who can claim to live on our old street.”
“Was anything left?” Oskar asked, a little afraid of the answer.
“Of what?” Flora asked, before memory caught up. “Oh, after the war, you mean? The ‘front’ didn’t exactly sweep through our town. But the damage was done. Scrap drives picked the houses so bare that a good gust of wind could have finished the job.”
Matheo grinned. “Besides, that was over a century ago. You think it held together that long?”
“No.” Oskar admitted. “And if I’m honest, it was getting hard to remember what the old street looked like.”
“We’ve rebuilt, then torn down, then rebuilt again. Such is the story of humanity.” Flora said easily. “You’ll like the place we’ve got ready for you, dad. I designed it for you myself.”
Oskar didn’t really know how to respond. His daughter had grown up, and become something of a philosopher, it seemed. To say nothing of designing houses.
~~/*\~~
The graffiti was gone.
That was the first thing Oskar noticed. The tags on the walls were gone. The streets were clean. The town centre had been rebuilt, with totally different buildings, and a totally different marketplace, but that wasn’t what made it feel ‘new’.
There were gardens and living things planted in carefully cultivated boxes along the streets. Most of them were flowers, with herbs ringing the edges of the public gardens, giving the street a fresh, vaguely flavorful scent, as though he was feasting while he walked.
When they reached the house, he looked it over carefully. It was a modest family home, modernized in a way he couldn’t really define. It was clear Flora had designed it for him, and meant it to invoke her memories of her childhood house.
Matheo stayed close, as she eagerly hurried up the front path to let them all in. “When I came back to my house after the Camp, I walked around inside it for an hour like I was trying to remember where I’d seen it before.”
Oskar nodded. “You tell me it’s been more than a century since I’ve walked these streets. I felt that way when the War was on, let alone now.” He gestured at the horizon. “Those mountains are the only thing that haven’t changed completely.”
~~/*\~~
“This is all for me?” Oskar was taken aback by the apparent luxury. After the rough, almost painful touch of the camp uniforms, the camp walls, and threadbare blankets; the comfortable chairs and thick mattress seemed almost indecent. After being so enthused for a few loose Bible pages, having a new Bible and a shelf full of literature, to say nothing of hundreds of movies and a television screen as large as his old kitchen table, seemed like something too fantastic to be real.
To say nothing of the feast that was laid out.
~~/*\~~
They kept the first night small. Matheo and Flora were the two closest contacts he’d had in the world.
Flora answered the first question he had on the topic before he could ask. “Mama isn’t back yet. Matheo and I had a bet on which of you would come back first. We’re still working out the pattern, but now that you’re here, it’s likely that mama will be back soon too.”
“Good.” Oskar said immediately. “As much as I wish she was here now… in truth, part of me is still waiting to wake up.”
Flora’s device chimed, and she checked it. Oskar’s eyes were usually locked on the small rectangular shape when one was in use. He’d never seen such a thing before. Flora glanced up at Matheo. “It’s Emil. I have to take this.” She excused herself, slipping out of the room.
“We’ll get you a device like that in the morning.” Matheo said quietly. “They’re designed to be… intuitive. Remember, we’re trying to teach people about the world. People from all across history. Back in your time, people still sent telegrams. But we’ve got people from Bible Times coming back too. In their opinion, pens and lightbulbs are the most important inventions ever, let alone the Internet.”
“I don’t know what that word means.”
“Neither did I, when I Returned. Neither did Flora, when she came back, decades before me.” Matheo offered. “Everything is new. Even the ancient things.”
“Every time someone gives me the answer to a question, I have three more things I don’t understand.” Oskar confessed. “I understand now why the first part of Paradise is a ‘Thousand Year Kingdom’ under Christ. It’ll take at least that long for me to figure out how everything works.”
“You, and everyone else who has ever lived.” Matheo agreed. “We’re only just getting a sense of how big a job it’ll be. There are sides to the ‘Restoration’ that our generation never considered.”
Oskar nodded. He could hear his daughter speaking outside. He couldn’t make out the words, but the tone of her voice was unmistakable. “Who’s she talking to? Who’s Emil?”
Matheo’s face changed as he laid out another incredible revelation. “He’s… your great-great-grandson.”
Oskar felt the room spin. He sank his face into his hands and burst out laughing.
“Roll with the punches, brother.” Matheo laughed along. “I had the same reaction when I came back.”
~~/*\~~
Oskar had been told that his grandchildren, now adults with families of their own, were on their way to meet him. The Returning was well underway, and a standard protocol for the event was coming together. But people were not all the same.
Oskar recognized the gathering as a meeting, but not an official one. There were about twenty people there, from all different time periods. A few of them were dressed in the sackcloth robes of Bible times. Others in period clothing that would fit in during the Medieval times. They were all seated in a rough circle, out in nature, under the trees. It was a soothing, lovely spot.
Matheo led the meeting. “We’ve got people from all across the timeline here.” He said kindly. “But most of us have one thing in common: We’ve come through times of incredible trials. Some of us survived war, some of us went through inquisition. Others through years of exile.” He took a breath. “And of course, a lot of us didn’t survive.” He gestured around the group. “But all of us went through our trials for the same reason. Because our faith demanded we hold fast. The world now is run by an organization that welcomes people of faith into a universal family.” Matheo smirked. “Some of us aren’t ready for that yet.”
A bitter chuckle went around the room.
“No judgment.” Matheo assured them. “The world is crowded with people who are enthusiastic to meet newcomers. Some people equate that with danger, due to life experience. We understand that. Certainly God does. Some of us have been back for a few weeks, some for a few months. We’re all here to learn the parts we missed.” He made introductions. “For those of you who haven’t met Oskar, he was a brother from my time. We were in the Camps together, during the Second World War.”
One of the men in Medieval garb nodded to Oskar respectfully. “I’ve heard horror stories about that time.”
“Thankfully, I missed some of the worst.” Oskar said humbly, returning the half-bow. “I’ve heard similar tales about the Inquisitions. The Lollards were remembered with honor, sir.”
It broke the ice, and Oskar felt the tone of the room shift, recognizing Oskar as ‘one of them’. He wondered what some of these people had gone through in the name of Jehovah.
“None of this is a competition, of course.” Matheo commented. “But we all know the truth, about a life of faith: Servants of Jehovah have never had a life of ease and comfort. We all know the way to survive.” He pulled out his Device and turned to the scriptures. “Rejoice in the hope. Endure under tribulation. Persevere in prayer.”
“Rejoice in the hope.” Oskar said quietly. “The hope of seeing this world, right here where we’re standing.” He almost laughed. “I’ve spent so long thinking of it as ‘something in the future’, that the idea of living it in now, let alone forever…”
“Well, we earned it.” Matheo said plainly. “We all know that you don’t get eternal life by being ‘good enough’. Good deeds don’t earn you a longer lifespan. But we proved ourselves faithful under test. God has been waiting for this world longer than all of us put together, specifically so that His children get to live without fear.
~~/*\~~
Weeks passed. The world population was relatively small, and Oskar had been treated to all kinds of video footage, showing him the highlights of the past century or two. “I keep thinking about what Jesus said, about how the Tribulation was worse than anything that had come before it. If it was worse than the War, then I’m glad I missed it.”
“I missed it too. I don’t know how much worse it got, but it was global. That alone would have made it worse.” Matheo told him. “Funny thing, but ten years after the war, there were people romanticising it. All the ‘heroic stories’, the ‘spirit of the blitz’, that sort of thing...”
Oskar scoffed, shaking his head.
“I wasn’t there, but I’ve met people who survived Tribulation, and they all say the same thing: The world had given up on hope and was just trying to get through their lives, day by day. People know what time I’m from, and they ask me how we could stand by and let our country get like that. The answer is the same as any other time in history: People don’t know when they’re living through major historical events, they’re just trying to keep food on the table and their kids safe.”
“And then one day someone asks you to sign a piece of paper.” Oskar nodded.
Matheo reacted to that far more seriously than Oskar expected. “I remember back when we were in the Camp, you said that some stands you have to make. And it’s not because you’ll win, or even because it’ll make a difference.” He had tears brimming in his eyes. “Sometimes, you have to be able to look back on your life and say: ‘I said ‘no’.”
“I remember.” Oskar nodded.
“Well, that was nearly a century ago for me. And you know what? I’ve been waiting for all those years to tell you: You were right. Every Witness in our generation had to make that choice before one national authority or another. Every Witness alive at Tribulation had to make that choice with all the world against them. Brothers at all points had to make that choice in some way. Whether to support an election, or fight in a war, or stay on a Church Membership, or defy a family tradition, or even just going out to watch a violent movie.” He gestured back at the construction site. “Right now, the world is full of Survivors and Gold Letters. The only people in the world are the ones who made that choice.”
“And Ignaz? Where is he now?” Oskar challenged quietly.
Matheo winced. “He showed up at the first meeting after the war, and he straight up grovelled. He was fighting back tears at every meeting for months. He made no secret of the fact that life outside the Camp wasn’t exactly blissful.” He gestured around. “He hasn’t been returned yet, but there’s plenty of Paradise still to come. We don’t really understand the order of the Returning. Not yet, anyway.” He let out a breath between his teeth. “Still. He’s not the only one who crossed his own moral lines to survive the War. It’s easy to judge, but it’s hard to be angry.”
“Mm.” Oskar murmured. “I wonder what will happen if Konstantin shows up one day.”
“Who?” Matheo blinked, and then memory caught up. “Oh. Right. Man, I haven’t thought about him in a long, long time.”
Oskar couldn’t help but laugh.
“Dad!” Flora called from a distance, running up to them. In her hand was a gold-colored envelope. Flora was outright sprinting towards them, the sheer glee on her face making her look like a kid again.
“Your wife?” Matheo guessed.
“I think so.” Oskar said, already tearing up. “God, how many miracles can you heap on one person?”
Matheo laughed warmly at that, as Flora slammed into her father’s hug, overjoyed.
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