Chapter 1

****

Carl Burton, a Welshman, worked for Global Weekly Chicago office as an editorial assistant. Physical copies of the news magazine were still distributed, but the company had long ago embraced the digital age with a strong online presence. Their main headquarters was in New York City, but Carl worked in the Chicago office.

He had moved to the States where he studied at Princeton University with a degree in Journalism. While there, he met and married his wife Donna, originally from North Dakota, and their first child Robert was born during Carl’s junior year. Two years later, Oliver was born during Donna’s junior year. After she graduated, Carl was offered a job at Global Weekly, so they moved to Mount Prospect. 4 other children followed, Elain, Samuel, Aneurin, and Mary. Donna mostly worked from home with real estate realtor, going out only to meet with clients who are either selling their house or meeting those buying a house to give a tour.

The family attended the New Hope Village Church, a non-denominational church in Mount Prospect. Vernon Billings had built a small but growing congregation that had to have two morning services—not because they were so huge but rather because their sanctuary was so small—and he was respected by the congregation. He never failed to acknowledge those who helped out. Most of all, though, he always began by praying that he would say what God wanted him to say and that the people would hear what God wanted them to hear. While preaching, his focus was always on Jesus, and he clearly revered the Bible.

Carl not only attended every Sunday, but he also attended the Men’s Bible Study at Pastor Billing’s house and the Men’s pancake breakfast once a month on Saturday mornings. Donna was equally involved and attended a Women’s Bible Study and even volunteered in helping in the primary girls Sunday School class during the first service.

“Someday Jesus will return to take his followers to heaven”, Pastor Billings said in church one Sunday, “Those who have received Him will disappear in the time it takes to blink your eye. We will disappear right in front of disbelieving people. Won’t that be a great day for us and a horrifying one for them?”

He talked about how important it was for everyone to be sure of his own standing before God and to think and pray about friends and loved ones who might not be ready.

As Carl was getting ready to clock out, he thought of his own children. He was grateful that even though Oliver and Elain were now both off to secular colleges in Chicago, they hadn’t left their faith, and would spend the weekend at home to attend New Hope Village Church on Sunday. Samuel was a senior in high school and he had not lost his faith either, being active in church youth group at New Hope Village Church and the YMCA basketball league. Yet in the midst of all that, there was Robert’s cynicism, Aneurin’s rebellion, and Mary’s insecurity that weighed heavily on Carl’s mind.

Then there was also Carl’s 30 year old brother, Dirk, who was 12-13 years younger. He was a fun loving uncle, even at a young age. When Mary was a year old, Dirk studied at Princeton University with a degree in international finances. It was at Princeton University where Dirk met and befriended Cameron “Buck” Williams, who had been with Global Weekly as the youngest senior writer. He had already written more than thirty cover stories, including three Newsmaker of the Year pieces. He earned the nickname “Buck” because he was known to buck journalistic traditions. Buck worked for the New York City office, but he had visited the Chicago office, where Carl had met him. He was actually impressed with Buck’s reports, yet “bucking” journalism seemed unprofessional.

Since graduation, Dirk had been working for the London Stock Exchange, and had been informant for both Carl and Buck. Recently, Dirk’s new specialty had been in researching conspiracy theories. Carl had to admit he was actually proud to have his brother as an informant yet he was concerned Dirk was delving into dangerous territories.

Carl worked in the Chicago office, though he had gone to the Global Weekly headquarters in New York City a few times to assist senior editor Steve Plank with editorials. The New York City staff consisted of senior editor Steve Plank, his secretary Marge Potter, publisher Stanton Bailey, financial editor Barbara Donahue, religious editor Jim Borland, chief of the international politics Juan Ortiz, senior writer Buck Williams, and a few others. The Chicago office staff consisted of bureau chief Lucinda Washington, her secretary Verna Zee, editorial assistant Carl Burton, Alice Nelson, and a few others.

Carl was grateful to have Lucinda Washington, a 50ish Negro woman and a strong Christian like he was, as his supervisor. She had previously been a reporter for the magazine and lived in the inner city of Chicago. When she was promoted to bureau chief, she, her husband Charles, who worked as a heavy equipment operator, and their four children, 9 year old Clarice, 6 year old Lionel moved, and 3 year old Ronnie, and baby Luci, moved to Mount Prospect. They lived in the same township as the Burtons. Now Clarice was 16, Lionel was 13, Ronnie was 9, and Luci was 6. As Samuel and Aneurin both attended Prospect High, Clarice was in the grade between them, and rode the same bus. Lionel was in the same grade as Mary, and they even shared a seat on the bus. Ronnie and Luci were both still in elementary school, attending Fairview Elementary School.

“Ah, Carl, you’d heard we’re expecting a big story file from London tomorrow”, Lucinda said when she saw Carl at her door.

“Yes, I did. Cameron’s going to see my brother Dirk there. My son is one of the three pilots on that flight ”, Carl replied, leaning against the doorframe.

“Ah, yes. You must be proud of your son, Carl, being assigned to such a high-profile flight. And what about your brother? Does he know the LORD?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’d talk with him a few times about my faith, but he dismisses it as ‘religious superstition’, especially after he began researching conspiracy theories."

Lucinda nodded in understanding, her thoughts drifting to her own brother, André Dupree—the bad apple of the family. He had been a drunk and known to use and abuse drugs. He’d been in and out of jail and even spent a short term at the Stateville Penitentiary in Joliet before it was closed down. Despite his struggles, André had a charming side. When sober, free of trouble, and working, everyone adored him—funny, lively, and easy to be around. But when he was “sick,” as the family called it—meaning he was using drugs, drinking heavily, or running with the wrong crowd—they all grew anxious, prayed for him, and desperately tried to bring him back to church. Carl knew that André was Lucinda’s deepest concern, just as Dirk was his own.

“We’ll be praying for our loved ones, Carl. Prayer's our strongest weapon”, Lucinda said softly, her eyes drifting to the framed photo of Charles and the kids on her desk.

Carl nodded. “Well, I just clocked out, and I’ll be heading home. See you in the morning?”, he asked, straightening up. His mind drifted to the evening commute—the familiar hum of traffic on I-290 stretching toward Mt. Prospect—and he wondered what chaos awaited him tonight.

****

Ashton Cleaver, a cop in the Chicago Police Department, was sitting in his squad car, staring at the dashboard clock—5:47 PM. His shift was almost over, and he could already taste the bitterness rising in his throat at the thought of Gavin's inevitable question: "Coming to Bible study tonight?" Across the street, a group of teens loitered outside a convenience store, their laughter grating against the hum of the squad car's idle engine.

Ashton was a tall man with brown hair that he kept neatly trimmed and brown eyes. Although only 25 years old, Ashton already had the hardened look of someone who had seen too much too soon. His older brother Ron and older sister Edwina, and even younger sister Lauren, and himself weren’t raised in church and only attended at Christmas and Easter, and even then only when his mother was able to drag them there. Then all his siblings became Christians, and started going to church regularly. Ron worked for the Chicago Tribune, and his wife Sylvia was a homemaker who homeschooled their children due to the gender ideology being forced onto students in public schools. Edwina was married to Michael, a firefighter, and they attended church as well, and she homeschooled the children as well, for the same reasons. Lauren was single, but she attended church with her siblings and nephews and nieces. Though Ashton enjoyed doting on his nieces and nephews, he wasn’t convinced by their faith. He would attend church on Christmas and Easter with his roommate Gavin, who was also with the police department, and was a Christian. Yet, the thought of the Rapture had never truly stuck with Ashton.

"Just think of it", said Gavin, "Jesus coming back to take us to Heaven."

"You really believe that stuff?", asked Ashton, "And how is that you got religion?"

"It's not a religion, Ashton. It's a personal relationship with Jesus..."

"Right. But why talk me into getting saved?"

"You know that I can't make that decision for you. But I believe in what the Bible teaches, and I've seen it change lives. It's something you've gotta experience for yourself."

Ashton drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, watching the neon glow of the convenience store sign flicker against the deepening twilight. One of the teens—a lanky kid in a hoodie—shot him a wary glance before ducking inside. Gavin’s Bible study invitation still hung between them, unspoken but heavy, like the weight of the duty belt digging into Ashton’s hips.

At times, on the weekends, Gavin invited Ashton to church in the Chicago area. When the pastor talked about the Rapture of the Church, Ashton felt a knot in his stomach, the kind that didn't come from the coffee at the station. The words of the pastor echoed in his mind as he drove through the streets of Chicago. But he wasn’t the only one in the Chicago police department to be dealing with such thoughts.

One of the other officers who worked near him, Sergeant Tom Fogarty, who was husky with thick, wavy blond hair, wasn’t religious either. He didn’t grow up in church except for Christmas and Easter. He had previously been married to Jeanni and they had two children Gideon and Myrtle. Because of her Christian faith and his job, they divorced, and Gideon and Myrtle lived with their mother, and Tom only saw them on the weekend. He married Josey, a woman of average height, trim, with pale blue eyes, her face pale and cutely freckled, and sandy blond hair, who had previously been married to Steve and had two boys Ben and Brad. They divorced because she had always been curious about God, and I tried all kinds of religions and belief systems, and Steve left her for someone else. Even though he was living with another woman long before they were divorced, he got custody of Ben and Brad. She couldn’t keep him from moving out of state, and she’s been able to see the boys only about one week-end a month for more than two years. Steve’s current wife left him recently, so had just been him and the boys in Missouri. Then she married Tom, though they didn’t have any children together. Ashton had met Josey at a law enforcement gala, and told Tom that she was cute. Tom smiled and thanked him, and added that she was also smart and funny.

“You know Tom, if your two kids and Josey’s two boys all live with you, wouldn’t that be like the Brady Bunch?”, Ashton asked, glancing at Tom through the rearview mirror as he pulled into the precinct parking lot.

Tom chuckled. “You mean where the father had three boys, and the mother had three girls, and they all lived together? Yeah, except Josey’s boys are in Missouri, and mine are with their mom. It would be hard enough blending households without half the cast missing.”

Then there was another officer, a young homicide detective, even though he was older than Ashton, with blond hair and wore his side arm in a shoulder holster, named Archibald “Eddie” Edwards. Although Eddie wasn’t religious either, he had often heard some other guys in the department, including Gavin, who often talked about God and the Bible. Even though Ashton wasn’t with homicide, Eddie and Ashton had worked together on a few cases. Eddie actually liked Ashton, and even saw potential in him as a future homicide detective. On the weekends, Eddie and Ashton often went out for coffee and donuts, then play darts at a local pub.

Another homicide detective named Cole, who was also not religious, was often seen with Eddie, discussing the cases. Cole was not much older than Eddie, and was tall, dark-haired, and had piercing green eyes. He was known for his dry wit and sharp instincts—traits Ashton admired.

“A lot of murder in Chicago. It’s like a plague.” Ashton murmured to Eddie as they stepped out of the station, the cold wind whipping through the streets.

“You got that right, Cleaver. You remember the famous Stateville Penitentiary in the town of Joliet, right?” Eddie’s voice was grim as they walked towards their vehicles.

Ashton nodded. “Yeah. That closed down, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did, and it has become a tourist attraction. It might not be as famous as Alcatraz in San Francisco, but it sure had its share of notorious inmates," Eddie said as they approached their vehicles. "But what's worse than the past crimes is the darkness we face every day on these streets."

Ashton knew Eddie was right. He had help protect the city and keep law and order, but the crime never seemed to cease. As he got into his patrol car, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in his stomach. The pastor's words and his nephews and nieces' enthusiasm had planted a seed of doubt.

Ashton was asked to work late shift at the Chicago police department that night, which was unusual—he wasn’t the newest officer anymore, but he wasn’t the most seasoned either. He didn’t mind, though; Gavin had clocked out hours ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the hum of the precinct’s fluorescent lights. The idea gnawed of the Rapture at him—what if Ron, Lauren, and Gavin were right? What if everything he’d brushed off as superstition was real?

****
Everett Marshall, Jr, had been living in the suburbs of Mount Prospect. Whenever the phone rang, when asked for Everett, it was, "Well, which one? Everett, Sr, or Everett, Jr?” or “Which Everett? Big Everett or Little Everett?” The resemblance was uncanny. They both had the same dark brown hair, the same hazel eyes, and the same strong jawline.

Everett, Sr, was a mechanic who ran a garage with his son helping him out after school. Everett’s mother never had to work outside the home, and was a stay at home mom. Everett, Jr was the second oldest of four kids with an older sister, Alicia and younger brother and sister, Ronnie and Gracie. Interesting enough, though, he was already taller than Alicia who worked at a Chick Fil A, and growing at a rate that would soon surpass his dad’s six-foot-four stature.

Well, what Everett liked a lot was church. Sundays were usually for attending church, though there were some times on the weekends where he would go with his father and Ronnie to a Chicago Cubs or a Chicago White Sox game or even a Chicago Bulls game. There wasn't anything Everett liked more than church. They attended New Hope Village Church. It was a place where everyone knew everyone. It was like a second family to him, a place where he felt safe and loved.

"You may have as well raised in it", his mother had often said with a fond smile, knowing Everett's love for the church was something he had found on his own.

Though Everett had a great secret: he had never really made the commitment to Christ. He still attend church and knew the Scriptures well. He never prayed to become a believer because he felt that he had enough faith just by being there. As usual, at New Hope Village Church, Pastor Billings was preaching about Jesus coming to take His people to Heaven.

"What a day this is going to be!", he said, "Jesus will come and take believers away! We will disappear in front of unbelieving people! It will all happened in the blink of an eye! Now I urge you to examine yourselves and pray for those who may not be prepared for that moment!"

Everett listened intently to Pastor Billings’s words, his heart racing. He knew that he enjoyed the community of church, the comfort of the routine, but he wasn’t quite ready to take that step of faith. Yet, something about the urgency in the Pastor’s voice resonated within him. Was he ready to be left behind? Would his family, his friends, be taken away?

One day, after church, when Everett was 17 and had his driver’s license for about a year and a half, he went into his bedroom which he shared with Ronnie. Both boys were athletic, and Everett played football, basketball, track, dodge ball, and baseball. His room was filled with trophies and posters of sports stars and scripture verses. Then Ronnie came in.

"You're still a Christian, right?", asked Ronnie, tossing a football to Everett. The leather smacked against his palms as he caught it reflexively.

"Sure I am", said Everett, tossing the football back to his brother. "Why do you ask?"

“I was just wondering. You know, because sometimes you seem a bit... I don’t know, distant during the sermons.”

Everett knew Ronnie was right. He may have memorized the Scriptures and attended church every Sunday, but deep down, he hadn't truly accepted Jesus into his heart. He even stopped going to youth group for a time, making some excuses, "I'm really busy that night" or "I've got something else going on!" But the truth was, he was scared of being judged by his peers. He didn’t know how to tell them that he wasn’t sure if he believed.

Everett used to go to Christian summer camps when he was a child. Though he started to phased out of it when he turned into a teenager. He also phased out of Sunday school, and just went to regular services with his family.

There were times when Ronnie would ask Everett to play basketball with him on the weekends. He used to love doing that, though he started to grow tired of it. He knew it was because of the emptiness inside of him. Gracie would even asked him to play the concentration card games with her, but he turned her down because he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

He could tell his parents that he hadn't really become a Christian. He decided not to. It was easier to keep up the facade. His mother even thought he would be a preacher one day. If he told her that he hadn’t really prayed to believe, she would be going hysterical over him. So he decided that he was going to keep it a secret, and act as he was a Christian. He would still be going to church and memorizing Bible verses.

"The LORD is wonderful, isn't He?", asked his mother.

"Yes, mom", said Everett., "He is."

How terrible Everett felt, like a hypocrite in the eyes of God and his family. The guilt grew heavier with each passing day. Yet, he continued the charade, hoping that one day he would find the courage to confess and truly seek salvation.

He had gone to his and Ronnie’s room that night, where he stared at the ceiling, listening to his brother’s slow, steady breathing from the other bed. The weight of the pastor’s words pressed down on him—what if the Rapture happened tomorrow or even tonight? Would he vanish with the others or be left behind with the others that didn’t believe? The thought twisted in his gut, sharp and undeniable. He began to doze off, wrestling with himself—half-formed prayers stuck in his throat, too afraid to whisper them aloud.

I guess an advantage would be the creative freedom—taking established worlds and twisting them into something fresh, like a noir detective version of Middle-earth. It’s like telling your favorite bedtime story but with an injection of adrenaline and new angles. Though, it’s a tricky balance—some readers crave the comfort of familiarity while others want wild deviations.

The disadvantage might be the silent judgment lurking in every reader’s head—the unspoken “this isn’t how Tolkien would’ve done it” echoing louder than any praise. Fanfic writers walk a tightrope between homage and heresy, where one person’s bold reimagining is another’s sacrilege.

So any thoughts on the advantages and disadvantages of fanfics in general?