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The group sat around the fire, five strong. To an observer, pre-catastrophe, they would appear to be friends, campers perhaps, each taking time off his job to enjoy a pastoral pleasure before going back to a hellish amount of work and family at the end of the week. A pan was produced; canned beans and ham were poured into it and a bag of trail mix was opened. Professor Simms, Doctorate of Theology, sat among them.

Ah, Professor Simms! To tell you about this man would take months. I suppose a good place to begin would be his appearance. Simms was a tall, thin man with salt and pepper hair, and his eyes were the eyes of someone with wisdom, someone who has experienced more than they ought to. He wore the collar of priesthood and a holster under his right arm where he kept his revolver. To someone, perhaps a person with the extrasensory power of precognition, a priest carrying a gun would be, to say in the least, unusual, but weapons were used daily in a post-Revelations world where the dead walked the earth.

But enough about what he looked like; you can't judge a book by its cover, as they say. The reason he was remarkable was when he talked. He would often ponder philosophical points during the daytime. To 'ponder' would fall short of the true scope of the thing; rather, to 'simmer' would be more appropriate. He would first take a raw, frozen idea out of the infinite depths of his mind and plunk it on the counter. He would remove all the nasty gristle of politics, television, and popular media from it and marinate it with insight, throwing in a dash here of theology, a pinch there of practical science, until finally the idea would cook and be served, with all of the insight, theology, science, and thought adding a unique flavor to it.

The former professor began to speak. "I was thinking today," he said, slowly at first, as he was still planning out his speech in his mind, "I was thinking about God's plan for us all." The group eyed each other warily. They had seen plenty of religious fanatics since the dead began to feed, and the last thing they wanted was for the Professor to start walking that line. Simms saw what they were thinking, for he was one of the few fortunate people who can read your thoughts in your eyes. He sipped his coffee and continued.

"What is His plan for all of us? Well, first, let's go back to the Bible. Revelations seems most appropriate." He paused, perhaps still expecting eager and not-so-eager students to finish jotting down a shorthand version of what he had just said. "First, maybe we interpreted it wrong. The evil separated from the righteous, and all that. Perhaps it meant what has happened now. The evil walk the earth, damned for eternity to feast on their fellow human beings. At least, an eternity until they get shot," and the Professor chuckled. "But that cannot be so."

He sipped his coffee again. "Why else would my fellow priests be destroyed, while I am spared? No, that can't be right. Perhaps it is the other way around. The dead are being rewarded in Heaven, while we evil ones are suffering in Hell. I can't say I've never sinned; let he who hasn't shoot me where I sit. But think now, why would God allow His creatures, if they are that, to storm prisons and other houses of evil? No, that theory isn't correct either." He ate half of his dinner, while the others, already finished with theirs, shifted to get more comfortable.

"And so I have my theory. God is testing us. Not for how well or how long we survive, but what we do with the time we have. Just like before, only slightly more . . . extreme. Now, you see a definite consequence. Before, now I realize, there were a million signs that I needed to change. I have taken steps to do so, and here we all sit today." He nodded to the group. "Like all of you. Brother Martin, you said you were lazy, loud, and completely inept before. But look now! The quietest one of us all, the hardest worker, and great with all things mechanical! And the rest of you, you have all changed! So let me add that to my theory. We've all been forced to change for the better." He finished his dinner.

"Which leaves us with God's divine plan. Were we to survive this mess? Maybe so." Here he chuckled again and refilled his coffee. He stopped, hearing a low moan behind him. He turned around. The revolver was suddenly in his hands, and it bucked and emitted a loud report. One of the cannibalistic eternals fell to the earth. "Take the deader I just shot," said Simms. "Was he to sneak up and devour me? Was I destined to join their ranks? Were all of you to perish when the smell of blood drifted to the city five miles distant, summoning his friends? I ask you, did I just cheat God out of death?" The group flinched at the loud quiet of the last sentence.

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