The Saving Of Earth-777

Chapter 3

Trevor was sitting out in the rain, his head in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot; his body was shaking; his heart was in his stomach—God could feel it. He felt it all. 

Today was supposed to be the day that went down to Earth—777, but God had woken up from a dream knowing that something was wrong. Something unknown was stirring. It was more than just Trevor’s pain, that much God could tell. 

God decided not to sleep in. No, this morning God jumped out of bed, knowing whatever this disturbance was must be confronted.

God had spent an hour wandering around the office without finding the angel, Trevor. And then, in the courtyard—underneath ‘The Tree Of Life’—there Trevor was. 

He was soaked through and shivering. 

God took a deep breath and headed towards him. Something so tragic that it has Trevor like this? God stopped right in front of Trevor and cleared its throat. Trevor didn’t move. 

“Trevor?” God asked cautiously. “You can’t sit out in this rain all morning. Come get a coffee with me.” Trevor still didn’t move. God sighed. “What happened, Trevor?”

He looked up at God, his eyes bloodshot—full of anger and pain. “It’s over,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“What’s over?” God asked gently.

“Everything,” Trevor said, and then he looked up past God and stared at nothing. 

God sat down in the rain next to him. The two were on a bench underneath The Tree Of Life. “Christ made this bench out of a giant tree in Norway, on Earth–777. I think that’s also where he got this tree,” God said, nodding up to the Tree of Life. God took off his jacket and put it around Trevor’s back. “He planted it here a long time ago.”

“Don’t pretend to care,” Trevor mumbled quietly.

“I deserve that . . . The rain seems to be unusually cold today, doesn’t it?” God asked, attempting to change the subject.

“It’s symbolic,” Trevor said bitterly.

“That’s a bit cliche, dontchu think?” Trevor didn’t answer. “Better check in with Georgie from Weather, see what the rest of the week has in store for us,” God said, not sure what words to use to comfort his Angel.

“Can you leave me alone?” Trevor asked coolly. 

“No. Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” God said with certainty. Trevor got up off the bench—setting God’s jacket down on it—and started to walk away from God. “Trevor!” God called out, thunder booming in the sky over their heads. God started to glow from the inside. The thunder sounded like it was inches above them, shaking Trevor. “Talk to me. Tell what happened,” God said, pleading with him.  

Trevor slowly turned around, cold rain pouring down his tortured face—or were they tears? God couldn’t tell. “It’s over!” he yelled at God. “He was in a car accident last night!”

“Who was in an accident?” God asked him, glowing a little brighter, heat emitting from the slight glow.

“Who?” Trevor asked hysterically. “Who?? The man from Earth—777, that’s who! Did you forget about him already? Did you give up on him? Is that why this happened?”

God had never seen Trevor like this. He felt everything Trevor was feeling, and Trevor was being torn apart. “What kind of shape is he in?” God asked, its head bowing, its voice shaking.

“HE’S BROKEN!” Trevor yelled. “He’s barely alive! A drunk driver hit him head-on.” Trevor collapsed into the ground, sitting in a puddle of freezing water. His knees seemed to have given out on him. 

“I see . . .” God said quietly, before walking up to Trevor and sitting down in the cold puddle next to him, placing a hand on his back. “What can we do?”

“Nothing. We can’t do anything now. No one's spirit can continue after another setback like this one. He’ll never be the same. It’s over, God. I had hoped, for a brief moment, that things could actually change.”

“Hmmm, should we still pay him a visit?” God suggested. 

“There’s no point. He has: a broken collarbone, a broken orbital bone, a massive concussion, 37 stitches down the left side of his head, his left eye might never see again, and the fingers on his right hand broke. There is no miracle that’ll fix all that.” Trevor looked at God. “How can one man go through so much suffering and still have the motivation to carry on?”

“I don’t know, Trevor,” God said, shame in his voice. 

“Why do humans have dreams that they could never possibly attain?” 

“I used to think that it was because it’s better to strive towards something, then nothing at all.”

“What if we get vengeance on the drunk driver?” Trevor asked harshly.

“Trevor,” God said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do!! You used to be vengeful! These worlds aren’t fair. Why’d you make them like this?”

God sighed. “I don’t know anymore. The idea was to give them free will. But, maybe that was wrong of me.” They sat there together, not saying a word to the other. The rain continued to come down. “Did you check the survival rate for Earth—777?” God asked him suddenly. 

Trevor waved a hand dismissively. “It hasn't changed yet. But, it’s bound to drop now. How could it not? He was the reason it was rising in the first place.”

God waved its hand and pulled a manila folder out of the air, before thumbing through it. “Oh . . . Trevor, it’s gone up!”

“What??” Trevor asked, snatching the folder out of God's hands. “That’s impossible!” God waved its hand again and a giant screen appeared floating a few feet away from them. “It did go up! But, how?? Why?? Something must be—”

“Trevor, look at this,” God said with a shaking voice, pointing to the floating screen.

On the screen was a man in a hospital gown, with a sling on his left arm, stitches on his head, one eye covered by an eye-patch. 

Trevor popped up, cold water dripping off of him. “That’s impossible!!” he said again.

It was the middle of the night on the screen, and only a faint light illuminated the dark hospital room. The man was standing next to his hospital bed, his right foot forward, his shoulders slightly turned, and he was throwing jabs in the air with his right arm; his left arm stayed in his sling, glued to his body; the faint light castes a giant shadow of the man on the white hospital wall behind him. Trevor gasped and turned to God. “But the doctors told him that he will never be able to fight again?”

God smiled. “What did he tell the doctors when he heard that news?” 

“Well, he told the doctor something like, ‘Respectfully, Doc, I will fight again. You see, you don’t know what type of man I am’. But, the Doctor said that he was lucky to be alive.”

“You didn’t believe him?” God asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I–I– . . . No, I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t imagine someone would keep trying after going through what he has.”

God smirked at Trevor. “That’s because you don’t know what kind of man he is.”

Trevor wiped his face. 

The clouds started to part. 

Sunlight started seeping through a crack in the gray sky. 

“I guess I don’t,” he said as a rainbow started to form right in front of them. 

“C’mon,” God said, “let’s go help save Earth—777. Let's meet this guy in person. And, let's go find Christ.”