"Come on, let's get a move on," said the Reverend Smith, turning the key.

For the first time in years, it seemed to several veterens of outings in the old bus, the engine started right away.

"Miraculous!" exclaimed the Reverend."This afternoon it took half an hour to start."

Several parishoners heartily agreed.

For half an hour the band of sixteen made its way up Interstate 15 and then east on highway 61. They were confident they were doing the right thing, even though most of their friends and aquaintances laughed at them when they talked about it. Everyone in the group expected major breakdowns in every form of civic infrastructure. Electricity, water, food supplies, banking, evrything might fail. These failures would lead to public unrest, rioting, and perhaps even nuclear holocaust. Nearly half the group, including Reverend Smith, considered it quite possible the world might even come to an end.

By 9PM   they were about three-quarters of the way across the desert when the bus's temperature guage suddenly flashed red. In about two minutes steam was coming from underneath the hood. They pulled over to the side of the road, expecting to add some water and be on their way. However, when the hood was raised it was instantly clear that the little bus would be going no further that night under its own power.

"We're gonna need a new water hose before this bus is goin anywhere," pronounced retired mechanic Jim Park.

The looked up and down the road for any possible sign of assistance, but there was nothing in sight. There were no businesses of any kind for at least ten miles in any direction, and on New Year's eve there would be little, if any, traffic.

"I brought along a cell phone," volunteered Virginia Powers. "Let's see if it still works. Its not midnight yet."

The cell phone was functioning normally but there was no one to answer at any of the numbers they called. Even 911 produced no response.

Most everyone knew that the proper thing to do in this situation was to stay where they were and wait for someone to find them. Expecting civilization to begin falling apart in just a few hours, however, the feeling was universal that they had to take responsibility for rescueing themselves.

"We're all relatively fit," asserted Reverend Smith. "Its about ten miles to the mountains from here, then four more to the closest cabin. We can walk and be at the base of the mountain shortly after midnight."

"Yea, if we wait for help they'll try to make us come back to the city anyway," agreed Ken Biffle.

The group started walking east, following the road. After three miles, however, the road turned sharply south for several miles before continuing to the east. Following the road would add twenty miles to their walk, so they continued directly east along the track of the old road that was still faintly recognizable in the semi-darkness.

The group trudged on for the better part of an hour, gradually getting somewhat spread out but remaining in good voice contact. There was just enough light from the moon and stars to see the mountain peaks ahead and use their silouette against the starry background to keep going in the right direction. In spite of the loss of the bus and the rigors of a long hile in the dark, the group was in good spirits.

At 11:30 in the evening the sixteen parishoners were strung out in a rough line several hundred meters long. As usual, Reverend Smith was in the lead. The stronger members of the group tended to be up front and those who were somewhat smaller or weaker trailed behind. No one was lost from the group although it was not entirely clear whether the whole group was certain where it was going. Continuing in a straight line was becoming more and more difficult   as they got closer to the mountains, as there were no longer any line of sight landmarks in their intended direction of travel.

Still in the lead, Reverend Smith headed down an embankment into a wide gully. He then headed across a wide, flat plain that was noticeably free of any plant life larger than a small bush here and there. Suddenly, he began to stagger.

"Oh! Oh! What? Oh" he exclaimed, not comprehending what was happening.

Reverend Smith lurched forward, staggered left, straightened, and lurched agaiin. To Virginia Powers, following fifty yards behind, he looked as though he were trying to walk on ice without skates.

Jim Park began to run forward, thinking the Reverend might be becoming suddenly ill. "Reverend!" he cried.

Then suddenly, Jim Park was stumbling as well. Both men looked as though trying to walk on a giant water bed.

An instant later both men were knee deep in loose mud.

"Oh!" cried Jim Park.

"What's this?" Reverend Smith asked no one in particular. "Yuck."

"Help!" Help!" yelled Jim.

"What is it? several voices called from varying directions.

People came runnign from all directions but no one could see clearly what was going on or where anything or anyone was. In a matter of seconds, three more people were knee deep in wet mud, spread out over an area of a quarter of an acre.

"Oh! What? Help! Help!" came cries of alarm from every direction.

In half a minute those who had blundered into the mire were waist deep. They struggled wildly in terror.

"What's going on? What's happening? "Help! Help me! What is it?" came the cries of confusion and fear as at least five people slowly sand deeper into the mud.

"Just before midnight. What can it mean?" cried Virginia.

Then suddenly, the Reverend blurted out what came into his mind. "Right at midnight. Why it's the end of the world. It's the Rapture."

In the next few minutes of confusion every single member of the group concluded that what was happening was the Rapture. Rather than being taken up into the sky they would be drawn down into the ground. There they would be protected as the world was destroyed. Putting their fears aside, they walked into the mud. Soon, sixteen people were floundering about in the mud, all trying to fight the terror that told them to struggle to get out of it. Within fifteen minutes of entering the mud each person sank to a point somewhere between their chests and shoulders. After that they were hopelessly stuck, completely unable to get out of the mud or hardly even adjust their positions. But they did not sink any further. A couple of people came close to being pushed under the surface as others crawled over them in their panicky struggle, but the mud did not suck anyone down. Anr there they stayed all night.

Back in the cities and towns that night, people celebrated New Year's Eve pretty much as they did every year, though perhaps a little bit more vigorously. The big light fell in Times Square as usual. Fireworks were displayed in Boston and many other large cities. People got drunk. Some people got into car accidents or got arrested for drunkeness. But, other than the usual New Year's celebration, nothing much happened.

The next morning a lot of people got up with hangovers. There were parades in the morning and football games were planned for the afternoon. At about the same time the parade was getting started in Pasadena, a patrolling police officer discovered the abandoned school bus with a large set of footprints leading away from it and several additional officers were called in for a search. About an hour later, six police officers discovered the Reverend Smith and his fifteen parishoners stuck in the mud. In an hour all were assisted back onto solid ground.

Reverend Smith disappeared a few days later. He is rumored to be selling second hand furnituire in southern Vermont.  Most of his parishoners also moved away shortly afterward, nearly all without leaving forwarding addresses. The police, however, never did ask any questions about what the Reverend and his flock were doing at the desert quicksand bog. When asked about the incident by reporters several weeks later, the two officers who initially discovered the abandoned school bus would say little.