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The Christ
Clone Trilogy 03 - Acts Of God
By
James Beau Seigneur
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Darkness11:00 a.m., Saturday, July 4, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.) — Derwood, Maryland
By Saturday morning, the heat was gone and the electricity was back on. Decker took a long-needed shower and moved back into his bedroom. He had a few things to do to prepare for the next plague — the darkness — but for the most part, Decker planned to just take it easy and recuperate from the heat. He'd worry later about the disorder in the laundry room and put everything back in its proper place.
He wondered again why no one from the U.N. had called. He assumed that even though he couldn't make a long distance call out, they could probably still call him as long as he had local service. For the first time Decker began to wonder if the call would ever come. As for the police, Decker had decided that they must not know he was there. But just in case his attempt to call out a few days earlier had been logged and passed on to the police, he decided to continue to wear his bandages at all times except when bathing, just to be safe.
6:38 a.m., Sunday, July 5, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker opened his eyes halfway and saw the morning. It seemed like any other summer morning: the air was clear and the first rays of dawn began to illuminate his room. Perhaps the darkness would not begin today. Decker rolled over to look at the night table beside the bed. There were the flashlights and extra batteries, just where he'd left them. He closed his eyes again. For right now he just wanted to sleep.
9:30 a.m.
Decker slept soundly, peacefully, dreaming of nothing in particular, when he suddenly realized something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and it wasn't just in his dream. Even in his sleep he could sense it.
Decker opened his eyes and looked around his bedroom. A cold sweat began to form on his brow. Everything seemed all right, but the dread that filled him did not go away.
Outside his window the sun shone brightly, casting warm beams of light into his room. Still he could not shake the feeling that something was terribly amiss.
Drawn by the light, Decker rose from his bed to open the window. But as he looked out from his second floor bedroom, the faceless terror that had awakened him took on a loathsome and ghastly form. Seeping upward out of the ground below his window and everywhere he could see, a hideous evil oozed like black puss, obscuring everything it covered. In only seconds it grew from simple puddling in the low-lying areas to a depth that obscured the ground completely. Decker's curiosity, normally one of his strongest drives, was utterly silenced by the stark panic that consumed him. He did not want to know what the darkness was; he did not need to know. He knew already. It was evil — the sum total of all the evil that had been done upon the earth — every murder, every lie, every rape, every torture, every act of cannibalism, every beating of an innocent, every human sacrifice, every destructive act upon the earth itself, every brutal mutilation of a child, every gulag, every pogrom, every death camp of every war, every slaughter of the blameless, every cruelty to a helpless animal. All of it had been absorbed and held in by the earth until now it could be held no longer, and it gushed forth like nefarious vomit.
Neither did Decker wonder how high it would rise. There was no question: it would cover and consume everything. Already it had covered the gravestones of Elizabeth, Hope and Louisa. Only at this did another emotion — rage at the indignity to his family's grave — briefly exceed his trepidation.
Decker pulled the window shut.
It did not matter. He knew it did not matter.
He ran out of the room to the landing at the top of the stairs. The darkness was in his house. It had filled most of the bottom floor of the split level and was two or three feet deep in the second level, rising quickly up the stairs toward him.
Hurrying back to his bedroom, Decker slammed the door shut and tore the sheets from his bed and shoved them into the gap at the base of the door. With strength born of fright, he effortlessly pulled the dresser away from the opposite wall and thrust it against the door.
It was hopeless.
Somehow he knew it, even as he did all that he could to prevent the malevolent shadow from entering the room. Nothing on earth could stop it. Still, he had to try.
Soon the bedroom floor was covered and Decker screamed like a frightened child as he pranced atop his bed, trying hopelessly to climb the wall.
All reason had left him. There was only fear.
In scant seconds the ooze rose to the level of the bed and rolled over onto the mattress, running quickly into the depression at Decker's feet. From the second it touched his bare skin, he was paralyzed with more terror than he had ever before imagined. Not even in Vietnam, with bullets flying all around him, had he felt terror like this.
Throughout the world, everywhere, everyone, the entire planet, was covered with the evil darkness — everywhere except Petra ... and a single office in the United Nations' Secretariat Building in Babylon.
There would be no news coverage of this plague.
No speeches.
Only terror.
Decker stood, unable to help himself, as the blackness crawled up his legs, his undefined fear so great he dared not even blink. The darkness was not just around him, it was on him — all over him, like a cold, dark, wet blanket of gaseous slime that no light could penetrate. He feared for his life, and yet he wanted nothing so much as to yield and die, to be done with it.
The darkness was filled with razors and acid and sharp venomous teeth; Decker was sure of it. And yet there was no pain, not yet anyway, only the certainty that those injurious things and even worse were poised only inches away, ready to cut and burn and rip his flesh from his bones at his slightest move.
The blackness now reached his genitals and despite his fear of movement, involuntarily his eyes closed and his jaw locked tight in clenched anguish. With every centimeter more that it swallowed him, the terror grew. Finally, it reached his chin and the last bit of light was about to be eclipsed.
Some years before, after finding his wife and children dead, Decker had teetered on the brink of insanity and chosen to come back; he realized now that had been a mistake. He had many times taken risks that taunted death and survived; now he wished he hadn't. It was not death that he feared. Had he been offered poison at this moment, he would have drunk it eagerly. Had he a gun, he would not have hesitated to take the barrel into his mouth and quickly fire a bullet into his brain. Had he a knife, he would have joyously driven it into his chest.
It was not death he feared, but the life that would allow him to feel the torment that he knew would begin before his next breath. Finally, he could bear it no more. With his head tilted back and every vertebrae in his neck stretched to keep his mouth and nose above the darkness as it rose above his chin, he collapsed into unconsciousness in a heap on the bed.
The veil of stupor provided no relief, for even in his unconscious state his mind filled with the images of what he could not see. It was only moments before his eyes opened, though he quickly shut them again. On either side of his head, two huge crows perched, waiting anxiously for him to open them again so they could pluck his eyes from their sockets. He could not see them in the blackness but he knew they were there, just as he knew also that the floor beside his bed crawled with snakes. Even closer, on the bed all around him, teemed rats, starving for their next meal. And though his body had fallen in a crumpled contorted mass when he passed out, he dared not move an inch, for any motion at all was sure to rouse the rats and make them aware of his location.
There was something else in the room, too. He could not see it but he knew it was there. Perhaps there were many of them: bloodthirsty creatures which defied description and would no doubt tear the living flesh from his frail human form as they devoured him. His only hope — though he certainly would not have used so positive a word as hope — was that the darkness was equally as impenetrable to the eyes of the beasts as it was to him.
Decker became aware of his nervous perspiration as it formed and pooled before running off his body. Could they smell his sweat? If so — and he felt certain that they could — their claws were already extended, ready to sink deep into his flesh to hold him still as they drove their fangs into his squirming body.
He wanted to scream. He needed to scream, but he dared not. Even as they sank their teeth into him and slurped up his blood and tore the raw meat from his bones, he was determined that he would not cry out, for by his scream he would only draw others to the feeding frenzy.
He longed to sink into his bed, the one direction from which nothing seemed to threaten, but then saw the folly of his desire, as he realized that only inches below him a pool of piranha waited anxiously.
As all the horrors filled his mind, suddenly it became clear that he had been a fool, for it was not a bed below him at all. All that he had dreaded — the crows, the rats, the snakes, the razor sharp knives, the claws, and fangs, the teeth — all were supremely preferable compared to his true fate. For that which he had believed to be his own sweat was in fact saliva dripping down upon him, and what he had thought was his bed was in fact the tongue of some hideous leviathan which even now savored the pre-chewed flavor of its meal and would, with Decker's first twitch, begin to slowly crush and chew, perhaps sucking the blood from his body, allowing a warm pool to collect in its mouth before swallowing.
Decker listened closely and thought he could hear the grinding of the beast's teeth. It was half an hour before the pain in Decker's jaw brought him to realize that it was his own teeth, clenched in terror, that he had heard grinding. He tried to stop, fearing that the sound would alert the predators to his location, but no sooner had he resolved himself to this intent than his attention was diverted by some new apprehension and he again began grinding and gnashing his teeth.
The terror went on, unceasing. With time it actually grew worse, as Decker weakened and became susceptible to sensory delusions which fed and were fed by his hysteria. He lost all perception of time. Had he been there days or years? Had he ever been anywhere else? He had no memory of anything before this. Indeed, even to call him 'Decker' serves merely as a convenience, for in his state, a name — even his own name — was a meaningless concept. He was simply the prey, shaking with fear, and about to meet his grisly doom.
For three days and nights Decker endured this state, barely moving, imagining ever-worsening scenarios of his situation and environment, fearing even the sound and movement of his own breathing lest it should betray him. Sleep, real sleep, was impossible, and though there were periods of unconsciousness, they were filled with apparitions no less horrible than when he was fully awake. The only way he knew he had been asleep at all was that from time to time he became aware that he had changed position, and he was certain he had not moved intentionally. He wondered why the predators had not seized the opportunity to strike. He was certain of only one thing: death would come and any delay would only extend his suffering.
9:47 a.m., Wednesday, July 8, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
When the darkness subsided after three days, its black murkiness seeping back into the earth just as it had arrived, Decker found himself lying on his bed unharmed. Dried feces lay smeared on the bed around him and caked on his hips and back. The room stank from the feces, urine, and sweat, but having been in the room with it for so long, he did not smell it.
There was no thought of getting up to wash. Now that he no longer feared to move, he did not have the strength to do so. His jaws and teeth and head ached so badly from three days and nights of clenching and grinding that he was not certain he would survive the pain. Gently he moved his tongue along the inside of his cheeks trying to assess the damage. Loose flaps of flesh and deep ulcers revealed the pieces he had unknowingly bitten off in his torment. His tongue, too, was badly gnawed and he could only assume the missing bits had been swallowed, washed down by the warm blood which still seeped from the wounds.
11:00 p.m., Thursday, July 9, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker opened his eyes and saw black. His heart raced in panic that the darkness had returned, until a point of light, a star outside his window, caught his eye. It was night. Decker had no idea how long he had been asleep, but his thirst was unbearable and the simple disgust he had felt earlier at his condition had now turned to burning discomfort: for four and a half days he had lain in his own excrement and its saline and acidic qualities had eaten away at his flesh, leaving raw sores on his buttocks, thighs and back. His head and jaws still hurt, but he managed to get to the bathroom to clean up.
After a long warm shower, Decker found some gauze and antibiotic cream to tend his wounds. Returning to his room, he determined his mattress to be a total loss. He'd have to do something with it later but for now he decided to sleep the rest of the night in the guest room.
11:17 a.m., Friday, July 10,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
When Decker awoke the next morning, having slept most of the more than forty-eight hours since the darkness ceased, he got up and slowly made his way to the kitchen. He was weak not only from surviving the darkness but from hunger and thirst as well. He did not know how long it had been since he had eaten but he was not surprised to find mold growing on the bread and the milk in the refrigerator soured. He had not fully restocked after the heat, which was just as well since most of the perishable items were turning bad. Apparently the power had gone out again.
After looking around the kitchen, he finally settled on scraping the mold from the bread and heating up a years-old can of cream of chicken soup. He had eaten worse, far worse. Besides, his jaws and teeth still ached and his tongue and the inside of his cheeks felt like raw hamburger. For the next few days, at least, soup and soft bread were as close to solid food as he wanted to get. Still, he would need to call Tolinson soon to restock . . . if indeed, Tolison had survived this last plague.
As he ate, Decker turned on the television to determine the effect the darkness had had on the rest of the world. He got an immediate sense of the impact as he flipped through channel after channel of 'dead air'. Only a few of the stations had resumed broadcasting. It was only now that he learned that, unlike the three previous plagues, the plague of darkness had lasted only three days, half as long as the others. Living through it, it had felt to Decker like an eternity. It seemed to him that if it had lasted six days like the other plagues, no one on earth would have survived.
Even so, many had not fared so well as he. No one was certain of the count, but the most conservative estimates of the dead were in the tens of millions. Most of the deaths resulted from heart failure. The toll was especially hard on the elderly. Many others had been killed in motor vehicle accidents. Forty-eight hours after the darkness had lifted, the streets and highways were still littered with the dead. Some had died instantly, others bled to death over the three days of darkness. Babies died in their cribs. Hospitals had become morgues. Planes, trains, subways, and buses — all means of mass transit — had become mass sepulchers.
For more than three full days every human activity on the planet had come to a complete halt. Even now, two days after the darkness, most of those who survived were just beginning to recover enough to start to move about. Decker supposed that this plague, like the others, had somehow been ended by Milner, but from what little news there was so far, no one really seemed to care.
4:30 p.m.
After eating, Decker fell asleep on the couch for several more hours. When he awoke, he had another bowl of soup and turned the news back on. In the interim, the networks had been hard at work gathering information. With all that had happened, it was no surprise that the insta-polls found a significant drop in Christopher's approval rating. What was surprising was just how big the drop was.
"The lead story this half hour," the anchor said, "is Secretary-General Christopher Goodman's meteoric fall in the polls. With a special report on our poll and the impact it will have on the Secretary-General," the anchor continued, "here's Ree Anthony."
"Betty," the reporter began, addressing the news anchor, "according to our exclusive CTN Worldwide Insta-Poll, taken within the last twenty minutes, the Secretary-General's approval rating has fallen to a new low — only 11% overall — with even lower ratings among some segments of the population." Decker listened in disbelief. An insta-poll graphic appeared on the screen showing Christopher's continuous dramatic decline in approval ratings from 97% to 85% in the first week after the onset on the sores, to 71% after the second plague, to 55% after the fresh water turned to blood, to 35% after the heat, and now to his current rating of only 11%. As the reporter pointed out, the graph showed valleys and peaks corresponding to each of the plagues and their conclusions. But with each additional plague there came an overall trend that was steadily and rapidly downward. That the polling company could count on sufficient audience response despite what the world had just been through was sad testimony to the power of interactive media.
"The Secretary-General has scheduled an address to the world on Sunday evening at 8:00 p.m. local time," the reporter said. Decker quickly ran the computation in his mind: that would be noon his time. "Until then, we are told that neither Secretary-General Goodman nor Robert Milner will be granting any interviews, or making any comments. No one seems to I know why Goodman is waiting until Sunday evening before addressing the world, but some insiders expressed concern that the delay just feeds the fear that another plague, perhaps one even more deadly than the ones before, is coming. With that kind of concern, we could see Goodman's approval rating drop even lower."
The picture switched back to the anchor. "One important note on the findings of that poll," the anchor said as she concluded the segment, "is that while the poll does show a significant loss of support for Secretary-General Goodman, there is no evidence of any corresponding switch in allegiance toward the KDT or Yahweh. Our poll shows that it is not that people are turning to Yahweh. Instead, many are cursing Yahweh and Goodman in the same breath."
The story of Christopher's drop in approval led the news for two hours and was replaced by a story which for the first time revealed the true extent of the loss of life from the last plague. One of the polling experts at the network had thought to apply features of the methodology used in insta-polling to the process of estimating the number of deaths. By having viewers enter the number of deaths in each viewing household and then estimating the approximate number of deaths represented by the reduction in the total number of poll respondents for that day-part as compared to the previous weeks, a conservative death toll of well over 130 million was projected. This news could not help but drive Christopher's approval rating down even farther.
News abhors a vacuum and in the absence of an explanation from Christopher or Milner, rumors began to circulate that Christopher was planning to resign and that he was waiting until Sunday to allow the Security Council to determine how to proceed.
2:30 p.m., Saturday, July 11,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker dragged the mattress down the steps and out the back door and dropped it on the patio. It was not a permanent solution to the problem, but the smell of urine had become so offensive that he had to get it out of the house. Closing the door behind him as he came back in, he sat down in the first chair he came to. As he sat there trying to catch his breath, he was startled by the sound of the phone. Despite his exhaustion, he ran past two other phones to get to the one in the kitchen, which had a caller ID feature.
As he saw the number, Decker exhaled in relief; it was Bert Tolinson.
"Hello, Bert," Decker said, out of breath.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I'm afraid we've got a problem. I got a call from a Ms. Listen at the bank today about the transfer of funds from your account. She said no funds can be withdrawn. I asked her why, and she said that the computer said that you hadn't taken the communion. Can you believe that? I started to argue with her but she insisted the computer was right. She said that all your funds had been frozen and she'd be surprised if you hadn't already been arrested. I didn't want to push it any further 'cause I know how important it is to you that no one knows that you're in town, but you're going to have to get this straightened out."
"This is crazy," Decker said with a little laugh, trying to sound convincing.
"That's what I told her. I guess she didn't realize who you were or she would have figured that out for herself."
"Okay, Bert. I'll take care of it," he said confidently. "You did the right thing, though. Thanks for handling it with such discretion."
"That's part of what you pay me for," Tolinson said. "You want the number for the bank?"
"Yeah," Decker answered, though he had no intention of actually making the call. Tolinson gave him the number and Decker recited it back as though he was writing it down. "I'll give you a call when I get this taken care of," he concluded.
Decker put down the phone. This presented a serious problem. There was probably enough food to last for about a week if he rationed it carefully. After that, he would be forced to leave the house to scavenge or steal what he could, which would greatly increase the chances that he would be discovered and arrested. There was the additional problem that in a few days, Bert Tolinson would begin to wonder why he had not gotten things 'straightened out' at the bank. At the least, it would mean that Decker would have to admit he could no longer pay him and, therefore, could no longer depend on Tolinson's assistance. At the worst, Tolinson might notify the police. There was now a substantial reward for turning in people who had not taken the mark.
12:04 p.m., Sunday, July 12,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker sat straight-backed on the couch in front of the television set. Christopher was about to make what everyone acknowledged was a make-or-break speech, not only for his own position as Secretary-General, but for the very life or death of the New Age. Decker was torn. With his heart he hoped the speech would be everything Christopher needed it to be. But there was a strong nagging doubt that had kept him here on the other side of the world from Christopher, which feared the very thing for which his heart hoped.
For Decker, however, the importance of this speech was not primarily what Christopher would say. What he was looking for would not be spoken; it was the look in Christopher's eye.
Decker's time was running out. Soon Bert Tolinson would begin to ask questions; Decker would run out of food; the local phone service and the power would be shut off; and sooner or later some computer security person would question the recent activity in his bank account or the calls made on his phone, and one way or another, the police would be notified. He knew he would have to leave soon. When he came to Derwood, he had hoped that with time he would be able to think things through, to find some answers. Instead, after a month, he found himself just as confused as when he arrived.
Thus it was that he came to this point where his simple gut reaction to Christopher's broadcast would determine whether he would return to Babylon to serve at Christopher's side, or flee into the night, living on scraps of garbage and fearing contact with any other human lest he be betrayed to the police.
"Friends," Christopher began simply, immediately setting the tone for the rest of the speech. "There has been a great deal of speculation as to my reason for waiting so long after the most recent plague to address you. The truth is simple: I believe that actions speak far louder than words.
"It is now Sunday evening in Babylon. It's a bit warmer than I care for," he said with a slight but sincere smile, "but, unlike the past five Sundays, the water has not turned to blood; there is no darkness seeping up out of the earth; there are no demonic locusts swarming overhead; no asteroids are heading in our direction; no nuclear wars; there are no reports of mass insanity, or murders, or suicides. In short, there are no plagues. And I pledge to you, there will be no more plagues!" Christopher pounded his fist to emphasize his point. It was a tactic he had used seldom in the past, which made it all the more forceful now.
"I have waited until now to speak with you," he continued, "because I wanted not only to tell you, but to show you — so that you would be able to see for yourselves — that the plagues have come to an end. We who have survived have weathered the storm, and though the loss has been great, I am here not to admit defeat, but to declare victory!
"Now, I fully recognize that this may seem like a typical politician's ploy to obscure the ugly truth with unfounded visions of hope. It has not escaped my attention that according to the polls a large number — in fact an overwhelming majority of you — have lost faith in my ability to lead us through this crisis. And yet I am certain that few of you would prefer to allow the fundamentalists and the KDT to impose their totalitarian controls on your lives.
"Still, in all honesty, I acknowledge that there is every reason for you to be skeptical, and I would not be so presumptuous as to expect, or even to ask, you to abandon that skepticism based merely on what I say to you here tonight. Again, I believe actions speak far louder than words. In a moment, I will present a simple proposal in which I will outline the actions I will undertake, and the means by which you may be absolutely certain that what I say tonight is true and that victory is ours.
"First, however, allow me to take a moment to set the events of the past few weeks in perspective.
"Seven years ago, famines and drought struck India and Pakistan, leaving 4l/2 million dead and ultimately leading to the China-India-Pakistan War, in which an additional 420 million people died. While these at first appeared to be tragic but natural events, we later realized that the planet had come under attack from outside, by a spirit being known as Yahweh, and that he was acting in concert with and at the invocation of his human mediums, the men John and Saul Cohen.
"Less than six months later, an asteroid entered the earth's atmosphere and, in a span of mere minutes, wiped out most of the population of central Canada and the midwestern United States as well as nearly all of Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Columbia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Guyana, Peru, Brazil, Bolivia, and Paraguay, leaving tens of millions more injured and homeless and turning one-third of the world's forests, including the once vast woodlands of North America and most of the South American rainforests, into funeral pyres.
"The same day, on the other side of the world, a second asteroid struck in the Pacific south of Japan, causing earthquakes, tsunami, and unprecedented volcanic activity which killed additional millions and left the ocean a blood-red pool of death as it totally destroyed all marine life in the Pacific.
"The two asteroids had the additional effect of so displacing the ozone layer that all grains and grasses throughout the world were destroyed, resulting in worldwide famine.
"A third asteroid, far larger than the first two and capable of eliminating all life on the planet, was destroyed while it was still a safe distance from the earth, thanks to the cooperation of the member nations of the U.N. But weeks later, as the dust of the third asteroid reached the earth, we learned that it contained a high content of arsenic, a deadly poison which polluted much of the earth's water supply. Altogether from the asteroids, 380 million innocent men, women and children died. Again, this was no natural disaster, but rather the vile handiwork of Yahweh.
"The following year, insects, genetically mutated by the design of Yahweh and whose coming was foretold by John and Cohen, swarmed over the earth for five full months, causing havoc and horrible suffering. And though none died from the attack of these locusts, the pain was so great that death would have been preferred by those who endured the excruciating torment of their stings. Many, perhaps most of you listening tonight, experienced that pain firsthand.
"Four months after the locusts died, a follower of the KDT, without provocation, shot and killed me in cold blood, and endangered the lives of hundreds of bystanders." Christopher paused to let those listening reflect on the tragic scenes of that day at the U.N. The video of the assassination had been broadcast on television so many times it was doubtful there was anyone who had not seen it. The black patch that Christopher wore over his right eye socket and his crippled left arm bore further witness to the suffering he had endured.
"Within minutes of my assassination, a savage madness swept over much of the planet, which caused neighbor to kill neighbor, spouse to kill spouse, and even parents to kill their own children. For three and a half days this madness continued unabated until, following my resurrection, I flew to Jerusalem and ended the madness by putting an end to John and Saul Cohen. In all, nearly l!/2 billion — a full one-third of the population of the earth — died because of the madness. Had I not stopped John and Cohen, it is doubtful that anyone on earth outside of Israel would have been left alive.
"When John and Cohen were themselves resurrected three days later, they left a reminder of their infamous destructiveness: an earthquake which destroyed ten percent of the city of Jerusalem and killed 7,000 people. Fortunately that was the last we would ever see of John and Cohen.
"Over the next three years, under my leadership, our planet experienced a period of unprecedented peace and prosperity. And in this environment of peace, as we entered the New Age of Humankind which Yahweh had been unsuccessful in stopping, people throughout the world of all races, cultures, nationalities, and ages began to experience powers of the mind and spirit which had only been dreamt of before.
"Thirteen months ago, with the institution of the communion, the world witnessed the end of sickness, miraculous recoveries from injuries, and even a reversal of the aging process. Humankind was at last running full speed toward its glorious destiny.
"This brings us to the events of the past four weeks.
"Unable to control us any longer, as Humankind stood poised on the threshold of the New Age, Yahweh and his henchmen, the KDT and the fundamentalists, unleashed another set of plagues intended either to frighten us into submission, or, failing that, to kill us all. First it was the lesions on those who had dared take the first step into the New Age by taking the communion. Next he turned the seas and then the fresh water to blood. Each time, as Robert Milner halted one plague, a new one followed. Next it was the extreme heat, and finally the darkness. Altogether these last five plagues have resulted in an additional 240 million deaths.
"But now that is over. Let me repeat what I said earlier. There will be no more plagues!"
"Yahweh's forces are like a three-legged stool which is made up of the KDT, the fundamentalists, and Jews who inhabit Petra. Through the cooperative efforts of police and security forces around the world, the program to deal with the fundamentalist threat is working. We have splintered that leg of the stool and broken their power! There will be no more plagues!
"The KDT, the fundamentalists, the dwellers of Petra, and Yahweh have done all the damage that they can for now. And so let the first proof that what I tell you is true be offered and confirmed on a daily basis, as no more plagues befall us.
"But it is not enough to remove the one leg of the stool. We must complete the goal by dealing also with the KDT and those in Petra. If we do nothing, they will learn to stand upon two legs and they will do even worse, to the point of destroying all of Humankind.
"I have been criticized for not dealing more harshly with the KDT and their supporters. I will admit that I have always held out hope that the KDT would see the error of their ways and join us. I do not regret having had that hope. I do, however, regret the toll in human suffering they have caused as we have held out to them the hand of peace. It is now clear that they will not travel with us. By their own choice, we must leave them behind. I know there may be some who fear that because of my patience with the KDT in the past, I may again be persuaded to offer the olive branch. Let me assure you that that will not happen. The KDT and the rest of the cult of Yahweh have shown themselves to be maniacal, intolerant, narrow-minded fanatics, cruelly calling down plagues upon the earth as if for their amusement. We must now deal with them with equal fervor.
"They have assembled themselves in the ancient walled city of Petra, and it is ironically fitting; for their religion is an ancient one: old and brittle and ready to crumble down upon them. So let it be that the legend of Joshua will serve as a metaphor for their own destruction. In that legend, all the people of Israel, under the rule of Joshua, gathered around the walled city of Jericho.80 So let us gather at Petra. But unlike the people of Israel who called on Yahweh to destroy Jericho, we will call out to no one. Neither will we bring with us any weapon. For by the very power of our combined will and inner strength, all the universe will bear witness that no walls of stone or self-proclaimed god can stand against a united Humankind. For just as the walls of Jericho in the legend fell, so shall the walls of Petra come down upon those who have rained terror down on us. Let us be rid once and for all time of Yahweh and those who would force us to our knees to worship him.
"That is my proposal. But I offer more.
"I said that I would provide the means by which you could be certain that what I have promised — the end of the plagues, the end of Yahweh's dominion, and our victory — is at hand.
"The proof that I will offer will not be a miracle at the hands of Robert Milner. Nor will I, myself, perform some miraculous deed. Instead the miracle will come from you, from Humankind, by the sheer will and power of each of you. For let me assure you," Christopher said, "that during these past three years since Humankind began experiencing the powers of the mind and spirit, time has not stood still.
"Within two weeks time, the first of three signs will be given that will offer conclusive proof that Humankind has, over the past three years, taken a giant step in the evolutionary process. It is you, those who hear my voice and have joined with the rest of Humankind, who will perform the miracle. And you will see for yourself why Yahweh fears you!
"Humankind must be free to achieve its destiny. It was not mere chance that Professor Harold Goodman found the cells on the Shroud from which I was cloned. I have come into the world to act as the catalyst that Humankind may achieve its destiny. But it is not my place to carry Humankind into the New Age. Rather, each of you must go of your own accord and under your own power. And each of you must participate, for though we each must carry our own weight, we must all go together as one family of Humankind.
"All of us have lost friends or family over the past few weeks," Christopher said, drawing his address to a close, "and it is understandable that there should be a healthy release of anger. And if some of that anger is directed at me, well then, so be it. But before you abandon the path that has brought us this far, realize that the plagues are not and have never been the result of animosity between Yahweh and myself. This began long before I was elected Secretary-General and declared the beginning of the New Age. The plagues that afflict us have a simple and undeniable root cause: after thousands of years of stagnation, evolution has brought Humankind to the brink of a transformation which will take all who embrace it as far beyond the narrow confines of the present human form as Humankind is now above the simple one-celled amoeba!
"Join me for this final battle against the cult of Yahweh and together let us forever throw open the door of the jail of evolutionary stagnation that has held us so long! Thank you, and good night."
It wasn't there.
Decker had watched carefully but the speech left him still uncertain. Whatever it was he had hoped to see wasn't there.
What had he hoped for, he wondered. Before the speech, he had thought he could look Christopher in the eye and instinctively be able to interpret his true motivation. Now that seemed an embarrassingly naive assumption. He had known Christopher for twenty-three years. If he still had doubts after that long, how could he possibly expect to get a true read of the man now, simply from watching him on television?
As far as the speech itself was concerned, Decker considered the delivery first class. Apparently the public agreed. Christopher had stressed actions over words and said he expected the words of his speech to convince few; but within fifteen minutes insta-polls showed his approval rating jumping from 12% before the speech to 31% after. The speech was inspiring, and if Christopher did what he promised — if the three signs were given and there were no more plagues — then he might once again have the world's support.
There was only one problem: the evil people of Petra Christopher described in his speech were not the people Decker had seen there. They were not 'maniacal, intolerant, narrow-minded fanatics' that Decker had met. Yes, they had a very different view of the world. And because of their belief in Yahweh and their trust in the KDT, many of the people of Petra might even support the raining down of plagues for what they wrongly but sincerely believed to be the greater good of the very people who suffered through the plagues. But Decker could not believe that any of the people he had met there would 'cruelly call down plagues upon the earth, as if for amusement,' as Christopher had said.
Christopher obviously did not understand. Granted, it was a fine point to try to argue in light of the suffering that had occurred, but Decker had to do something. He thought of Rhoda, young Decker Donafin, Tom, Jr., Rachael, and Charlie the 'jailer,' and the many others he had met. The battle that Christopher had described would leave them all dead. He had watched the speech to discover Christopher's true motives. Now that no longer mattered. Whether Christopher was the embodiment of good or the epitome of evil, Decker could not sit still and let the people of Petra be killed. His course was set for him. He had to return to Babylon.
Somehow Decker needed to arrange for a flight to Babylon. He couldn't simply buy a ticket. Without the mark he couldn't buy or sell anything. The only way was to get someone from his office at the U.N. to arrange passage on a United Nations plane. He'd also need a limousine to get to and from the airports. It had been a week and a half since his long distance telephone service was cut off. He had expected to lose his local service by now as well, but the circumstances of the last two plagues, not surprisingly, had affected the phone company's efficiency and they had not yet disconnected him. The net result was that while he could not place a long distance call, he could still make and receive local calls, and he could probably still receive long distance calls placed to him. No sooner had he thought through the problem than he had an answer. He would simply call Bert Tolinson and have him call the U.N. and have them call him back. Decker would tell Tolinson that losing his long distance service was all part of the same mix-up as with the bank and that he needed to reach his office to get things straightened out.
Fifteen minutes after Decker called Tolinson the phone rang. It was Kwalindia Oshala, Debbie Sanchez' administrative assistant. She was working late when she got the call from Bert Tolinson. She was both helpful and very friendly to Decker and told him how much everyone had missed him around the office, and they'd be glad to have him back. Decker explained what he needed, and she checked the scheduled U.N. flights from Washington to Babylon. There was only one, the first since the darkness. It was scheduled to leave Dulles Airport at 6:00 that evening. It would make three stops along the way, and arrive in Babylon at 6:30 p.m. the next day. Kwalindia booked the flight and arranged limousine service.
Decker went without luggage; he had none with him when he had arrived in Derwood. He wore loose fitting clothes and bandages on his left cheek, the back of his neck, and on the back of his right hand where the mark should have been. All went as planned, and by 7:00 p.m. he was in the air on his way back to Babylon.
The Christ
Clone Trilogy 03 - Acts Of God
By
James Beau Seigneur
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Darkness11:00 a.m., Saturday, July 4, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.) — Derwood, Maryland
By Saturday morning, the heat was gone and the electricity was back on. Decker took a long-needed shower and moved back into his bedroom. He had a few things to do to prepare for the next plague — the darkness — but for the most part, Decker planned to just take it easy and recuperate from the heat. He'd worry later about the disorder in the laundry room and put everything back in its proper place.
He wondered again why no one from the U.N. had called. He assumed that even though he couldn't make a long distance call out, they could probably still call him as long as he had local service. For the first time Decker began to wonder if the call would ever come. As for the police, Decker had decided that they must not know he was there. But just in case his attempt to call out a few days earlier had been logged and passed on to the police, he decided to continue to wear his bandages at all times except when bathing, just to be safe.
6:38 a.m., Sunday, July 5, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker opened his eyes halfway and saw the morning. It seemed like any other summer morning: the air was clear and the first rays of dawn began to illuminate his room. Perhaps the darkness would not begin today. Decker rolled over to look at the night table beside the bed. There were the flashlights and extra batteries, just where he'd left them. He closed his eyes again. For right now he just wanted to sleep.
9:30 a.m.
Decker slept soundly, peacefully, dreaming of nothing in particular, when he suddenly realized something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and it wasn't just in his dream. Even in his sleep he could sense it.
Decker opened his eyes and looked around his bedroom. A cold sweat began to form on his brow. Everything seemed all right, but the dread that filled him did not go away.
Outside his window the sun shone brightly, casting warm beams of light into his room. Still he could not shake the feeling that something was terribly amiss.
Drawn by the light, Decker rose from his bed to open the window. But as he looked out from his second floor bedroom, the faceless terror that had awakened him took on a loathsome and ghastly form. Seeping upward out of the ground below his window and everywhere he could see, a hideous evil oozed like black puss, obscuring everything it covered. In only seconds it grew from simple puddling in the low-lying areas to a depth that obscured the ground completely. Decker's curiosity, normally one of his strongest drives, was utterly silenced by the stark panic that consumed him. He did not want to know what the darkness was; he did not need to know. He knew already. It was evil — the sum total of all the evil that had been done upon the earth — every murder, every lie, every rape, every torture, every act of cannibalism, every beating of an innocent, every human sacrifice, every destructive act upon the earth itself, every brutal mutilation of a child, every gulag, every pogrom, every death camp of every war, every slaughter of the blameless, every cruelty to a helpless animal. All of it had been absorbed and held in by the earth until now it could be held no longer, and it gushed forth like nefarious vomit.
Neither did Decker wonder how high it would rise. There was no question: it would cover and consume everything. Already it had covered the gravestones of Elizabeth, Hope and Louisa. Only at this did another emotion — rage at the indignity to his family's grave — briefly exceed his trepidation.
Decker pulled the window shut.
It did not matter. He knew it did not matter.
He ran out of the room to the landing at the top of the stairs. The darkness was in his house. It had filled most of the bottom floor of the split level and was two or three feet deep in the second level, rising quickly up the stairs toward him.
Hurrying back to his bedroom, Decker slammed the door shut and tore the sheets from his bed and shoved them into the gap at the base of the door. With strength born of fright, he effortlessly pulled the dresser away from the opposite wall and thrust it against the door.
It was hopeless.
Somehow he knew it, even as he did all that he could to prevent the malevolent shadow from entering the room. Nothing on earth could stop it. Still, he had to try.
Soon the bedroom floor was covered and Decker screamed like a frightened child as he pranced atop his bed, trying hopelessly to climb the wall.
All reason had left him. There was only fear.
In scant seconds the ooze rose to the level of the bed and rolled over onto the mattress, running quickly into the depression at Decker's feet. From the second it touched his bare skin, he was paralyzed with more terror than he had ever before imagined. Not even in Vietnam, with bullets flying all around him, had he felt terror like this.
Throughout the world, everywhere, everyone, the entire planet, was covered with the evil darkness — everywhere except Petra ... and a single office in the United Nations' Secretariat Building in Babylon.
There would be no news coverage of this plague.
No speeches.
Only terror.
Decker stood, unable to help himself, as the blackness crawled up his legs, his undefined fear so great he dared not even blink. The darkness was not just around him, it was on him — all over him, like a cold, dark, wet blanket of gaseous slime that no light could penetrate. He feared for his life, and yet he wanted nothing so much as to yield and die, to be done with it.
The darkness was filled with razors and acid and sharp venomous teeth; Decker was sure of it. And yet there was no pain, not yet anyway, only the certainty that those injurious things and even worse were poised only inches away, ready to cut and burn and rip his flesh from his bones at his slightest move.
The blackness now reached his genitals and despite his fear of movement, involuntarily his eyes closed and his jaw locked tight in clenched anguish. With every centimeter more that it swallowed him, the terror grew. Finally, it reached his chin and the last bit of light was about to be eclipsed.
Some years before, after finding his wife and children dead, Decker had teetered on the brink of insanity and chosen to come back; he realized now that had been a mistake. He had many times taken risks that taunted death and survived; now he wished he hadn't. It was not death that he feared. Had he been offered poison at this moment, he would have drunk it eagerly. Had he a gun, he would not have hesitated to take the barrel into his mouth and quickly fire a bullet into his brain. Had he a knife, he would have joyously driven it into his chest.
It was not death he feared, but the life that would allow him to feel the torment that he knew would begin before his next breath. Finally, he could bear it no more. With his head tilted back and every vertebrae in his neck stretched to keep his mouth and nose above the darkness as it rose above his chin, he collapsed into unconsciousness in a heap on the bed.
The veil of stupor provided no relief, for even in his unconscious state his mind filled with the images of what he could not see. It was only moments before his eyes opened, though he quickly shut them again. On either side of his head, two huge crows perched, waiting anxiously for him to open them again so they could pluck his eyes from their sockets. He could not see them in the blackness but he knew they were there, just as he knew also that the floor beside his bed crawled with snakes. Even closer, on the bed all around him, teemed rats, starving for their next meal. And though his body had fallen in a crumpled contorted mass when he passed out, he dared not move an inch, for any motion at all was sure to rouse the rats and make them aware of his location.
There was something else in the room, too. He could not see it but he knew it was there. Perhaps there were many of them: bloodthirsty creatures which defied description and would no doubt tear the living flesh from his frail human form as they devoured him. His only hope — though he certainly would not have used so positive a word as hope — was that the darkness was equally as impenetrable to the eyes of the beasts as it was to him.
Decker became aware of his nervous perspiration as it formed and pooled before running off his body. Could they smell his sweat? If so — and he felt certain that they could — their claws were already extended, ready to sink deep into his flesh to hold him still as they drove their fangs into his squirming body.
He wanted to scream. He needed to scream, but he dared not. Even as they sank their teeth into him and slurped up his blood and tore the raw meat from his bones, he was determined that he would not cry out, for by his scream he would only draw others to the feeding frenzy.
He longed to sink into his bed, the one direction from which nothing seemed to threaten, but then saw the folly of his desire, as he realized that only inches below him a pool of piranha waited anxiously.
As all the horrors filled his mind, suddenly it became clear that he had been a fool, for it was not a bed below him at all. All that he had dreaded — the crows, the rats, the snakes, the razor sharp knives, the claws, and fangs, the teeth — all were supremely preferable compared to his true fate. For that which he had believed to be his own sweat was in fact saliva dripping down upon him, and what he had thought was his bed was in fact the tongue of some hideous leviathan which even now savored the pre-chewed flavor of its meal and would, with Decker's first twitch, begin to slowly crush and chew, perhaps sucking the blood from his body, allowing a warm pool to collect in its mouth before swallowing.
Decker listened closely and thought he could hear the grinding of the beast's teeth. It was half an hour before the pain in Decker's jaw brought him to realize that it was his own teeth, clenched in terror, that he had heard grinding. He tried to stop, fearing that the sound would alert the predators to his location, but no sooner had he resolved himself to this intent than his attention was diverted by some new apprehension and he again began grinding and gnashing his teeth.
The terror went on, unceasing. With time it actually grew worse, as Decker weakened and became susceptible to sensory delusions which fed and were fed by his hysteria. He lost all perception of time. Had he been there days or years? Had he ever been anywhere else? He had no memory of anything before this. Indeed, even to call him 'Decker' serves merely as a convenience, for in his state, a name — even his own name — was a meaningless concept. He was simply the prey, shaking with fear, and about to meet his grisly doom.
For three days and nights Decker endured this state, barely moving, imagining ever-worsening scenarios of his situation and environment, fearing even the sound and movement of his own breathing lest it should betray him. Sleep, real sleep, was impossible, and though there were periods of unconsciousness, they were filled with apparitions no less horrible than when he was fully awake. The only way he knew he had been asleep at all was that from time to time he became aware that he had changed position, and he was certain he had not moved intentionally. He wondered why the predators had not seized the opportunity to strike. He was certain of only one thing: death would come and any delay would only extend his suffering.
9:47 a.m., Wednesday, July 8, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
When the darkness subsided after three days, its black murkiness seeping back into the earth just as it had arrived, Decker found himself lying on his bed unharmed. Dried feces lay smeared on the bed around him and caked on his hips and back. The room stank from the feces, urine, and sweat, but having been in the room with it for so long, he did not smell it.
There was no thought of getting up to wash. Now that he no longer feared to move, he did not have the strength to do so. His jaws and teeth and head ached so badly from three days and nights of clenching and grinding that he was not certain he would survive the pain. Gently he moved his tongue along the inside of his cheeks trying to assess the damage. Loose flaps of flesh and deep ulcers revealed the pieces he had unknowingly bitten off in his torment. His tongue, too, was badly gnawed and he could only assume the missing bits had been swallowed, washed down by the warm blood which still seeped from the wounds.
11:00 p.m., Thursday, July 9, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker opened his eyes and saw black. His heart raced in panic that the darkness had returned, until a point of light, a star outside his window, caught his eye. It was night. Decker had no idea how long he had been asleep, but his thirst was unbearable and the simple disgust he had felt earlier at his condition had now turned to burning discomfort: for four and a half days he had lain in his own excrement and its saline and acidic qualities had eaten away at his flesh, leaving raw sores on his buttocks, thighs and back. His head and jaws still hurt, but he managed to get to the bathroom to clean up.
After a long warm shower, Decker found some gauze and antibiotic cream to tend his wounds. Returning to his room, he determined his mattress to be a total loss. He'd have to do something with it later but for now he decided to sleep the rest of the night in the guest room.
11:17 a.m., Friday, July 10,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
When Decker awoke the next morning, having slept most of the more than forty-eight hours since the darkness ceased, he got up and slowly made his way to the kitchen. He was weak not only from surviving the darkness but from hunger and thirst as well. He did not know how long it had been since he had eaten but he was not surprised to find mold growing on the bread and the milk in the refrigerator soured. He had not fully restocked after the heat, which was just as well since most of the perishable items were turning bad. Apparently the power had gone out again.
After looking around the kitchen, he finally settled on scraping the mold from the bread and heating up a years-old can of cream of chicken soup. He had eaten worse, far worse. Besides, his jaws and teeth still ached and his tongue and the inside of his cheeks felt like raw hamburger. For the next few days, at least, soup and soft bread were as close to solid food as he wanted to get. Still, he would need to call Tolinson soon to restock . . . if indeed, Tolison had survived this last plague.
As he ate, Decker turned on the television to determine the effect the darkness had had on the rest of the world. He got an immediate sense of the impact as he flipped through channel after channel of 'dead air'. Only a few of the stations had resumed broadcasting. It was only now that he learned that, unlike the three previous plagues, the plague of darkness had lasted only three days, half as long as the others. Living through it, it had felt to Decker like an eternity. It seemed to him that if it had lasted six days like the other plagues, no one on earth would have survived.
Even so, many had not fared so well as he. No one was certain of the count, but the most conservative estimates of the dead were in the tens of millions. Most of the deaths resulted from heart failure. The toll was especially hard on the elderly. Many others had been killed in motor vehicle accidents. Forty-eight hours after the darkness had lifted, the streets and highways were still littered with the dead. Some had died instantly, others bled to death over the three days of darkness. Babies died in their cribs. Hospitals had become morgues. Planes, trains, subways, and buses — all means of mass transit — had become mass sepulchers.
For more than three full days every human activity on the planet had come to a complete halt. Even now, two days after the darkness, most of those who survived were just beginning to recover enough to start to move about. Decker supposed that this plague, like the others, had somehow been ended by Milner, but from what little news there was so far, no one really seemed to care.
4:30 p.m.
After eating, Decker fell asleep on the couch for several more hours. When he awoke, he had another bowl of soup and turned the news back on. In the interim, the networks had been hard at work gathering information. With all that had happened, it was no surprise that the insta-polls found a significant drop in Christopher's approval rating. What was surprising was just how big the drop was.
"The lead story this half hour," the anchor said, "is Secretary-General Christopher Goodman's meteoric fall in the polls. With a special report on our poll and the impact it will have on the Secretary-General," the anchor continued, "here's Ree Anthony."
"Betty," the reporter began, addressing the news anchor, "according to our exclusive CTN Worldwide Insta-Poll, taken within the last twenty minutes, the Secretary-General's approval rating has fallen to a new low — only 11% overall — with even lower ratings among some segments of the population." Decker listened in disbelief. An insta-poll graphic appeared on the screen showing Christopher's continuous dramatic decline in approval ratings from 97% to 85% in the first week after the onset on the sores, to 71% after the second plague, to 55% after the fresh water turned to blood, to 35% after the heat, and now to his current rating of only 11%. As the reporter pointed out, the graph showed valleys and peaks corresponding to each of the plagues and their conclusions. But with each additional plague there came an overall trend that was steadily and rapidly downward. That the polling company could count on sufficient audience response despite what the world had just been through was sad testimony to the power of interactive media.
"The Secretary-General has scheduled an address to the world on Sunday evening at 8:00 p.m. local time," the reporter said. Decker quickly ran the computation in his mind: that would be noon his time. "Until then, we are told that neither Secretary-General Goodman nor Robert Milner will be granting any interviews, or making any comments. No one seems to I know why Goodman is waiting until Sunday evening before addressing the world, but some insiders expressed concern that the delay just feeds the fear that another plague, perhaps one even more deadly than the ones before, is coming. With that kind of concern, we could see Goodman's approval rating drop even lower."
The picture switched back to the anchor. "One important note on the findings of that poll," the anchor said as she concluded the segment, "is that while the poll does show a significant loss of support for Secretary-General Goodman, there is no evidence of any corresponding switch in allegiance toward the KDT or Yahweh. Our poll shows that it is not that people are turning to Yahweh. Instead, many are cursing Yahweh and Goodman in the same breath."
The story of Christopher's drop in approval led the news for two hours and was replaced by a story which for the first time revealed the true extent of the loss of life from the last plague. One of the polling experts at the network had thought to apply features of the methodology used in insta-polling to the process of estimating the number of deaths. By having viewers enter the number of deaths in each viewing household and then estimating the approximate number of deaths represented by the reduction in the total number of poll respondents for that day-part as compared to the previous weeks, a conservative death toll of well over 130 million was projected. This news could not help but drive Christopher's approval rating down even farther.
News abhors a vacuum and in the absence of an explanation from Christopher or Milner, rumors began to circulate that Christopher was planning to resign and that he was waiting until Sunday to allow the Security Council to determine how to proceed.
2:30 p.m., Saturday, July 11,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker dragged the mattress down the steps and out the back door and dropped it on the patio. It was not a permanent solution to the problem, but the smell of urine had become so offensive that he had to get it out of the house. Closing the door behind him as he came back in, he sat down in the first chair he came to. As he sat there trying to catch his breath, he was startled by the sound of the phone. Despite his exhaustion, he ran past two other phones to get to the one in the kitchen, which had a caller ID feature.
As he saw the number, Decker exhaled in relief; it was Bert Tolinson.
"Hello, Bert," Decker said, out of breath.
"Mr. Hawthorne, I'm afraid we've got a problem. I got a call from a Ms. Listen at the bank today about the transfer of funds from your account. She said no funds can be withdrawn. I asked her why, and she said that the computer said that you hadn't taken the communion. Can you believe that? I started to argue with her but she insisted the computer was right. She said that all your funds had been frozen and she'd be surprised if you hadn't already been arrested. I didn't want to push it any further 'cause I know how important it is to you that no one knows that you're in town, but you're going to have to get this straightened out."
"This is crazy," Decker said with a little laugh, trying to sound convincing.
"That's what I told her. I guess she didn't realize who you were or she would have figured that out for herself."
"Okay, Bert. I'll take care of it," he said confidently. "You did the right thing, though. Thanks for handling it with such discretion."
"That's part of what you pay me for," Tolinson said. "You want the number for the bank?"
"Yeah," Decker answered, though he had no intention of actually making the call. Tolinson gave him the number and Decker recited it back as though he was writing it down. "I'll give you a call when I get this taken care of," he concluded.
Decker put down the phone. This presented a serious problem. There was probably enough food to last for about a week if he rationed it carefully. After that, he would be forced to leave the house to scavenge or steal what he could, which would greatly increase the chances that he would be discovered and arrested. There was the additional problem that in a few days, Bert Tolinson would begin to wonder why he had not gotten things 'straightened out' at the bank. At the least, it would mean that Decker would have to admit he could no longer pay him and, therefore, could no longer depend on Tolinson's assistance. At the worst, Tolinson might notify the police. There was now a substantial reward for turning in people who had not taken the mark.
12:04 p.m., Sunday, July 12,4 N.A. (2026 A.D.)
Decker sat straight-backed on the couch in front of the television set. Christopher was about to make what everyone acknowledged was a make-or-break speech, not only for his own position as Secretary-General, but for the very life or death of the New Age. Decker was torn. With his heart he hoped the speech would be everything Christopher needed it to be. But there was a strong nagging doubt that had kept him here on the other side of the world from Christopher, which feared the very thing for which his heart hoped.
For Decker, however, the importance of this speech was not primarily what Christopher would say. What he was looking for would not be spoken; it was the look in Christopher's eye.
Decker's time was running out. Soon Bert Tolinson would begin to ask questions; Decker would run out of food; the local phone service and the power would be shut off; and sooner or later some computer security person would question the recent activity in his bank account or the calls made on his phone, and one way or another, the police would be notified. He knew he would have to leave soon. When he came to Derwood, he had hoped that with time he would be able to think things through, to find some answers. Instead, after a month, he found himself just as confused as when he arrived.
Thus it was that he came to this point where his simple gut reaction to Christopher's broadcast would determine whether he would return to Babylon to serve at Christopher's side, or flee into the night, living on scraps of garbage and fearing contact with any other human lest he be betrayed to the police.
"Friends," Christopher began simply, immediately setting the tone for the rest of the speech. "There has been a great deal of speculation as to my reason for waiting so long after the most recent plague to address you. The truth is simple: I believe that actions speak far louder than words.
"It is now Sunday evening in Babylon. It's a bit warmer than I care for," he said with a slight but sincere smile, "but, unlike the past five Sundays, the water has not turned to blood; there is no darkness seeping up out of the earth; there are no demonic locusts swarming overhead; no asteroids are heading in our direction; no nuclear wars; there are no reports of mass insanity, or murders, or suicides. In short, there are no plagues. And I pledge to you, there will be no more plagues!" Christopher pounded his fist to emphasize his point. It was a tactic he had used seldom in the past, which made it all the more forceful now.
"I have waited until now to speak with you," he continued, "because I wanted not only to tell you, but to show you — so that you would be able to see for yourselves — that the plagues have come to an end. We who have survived have weathered the storm, and though the loss has been great, I am here not to admit defeat, but to declare victory!
"Now, I fully recognize that this may seem like a typical politician's ploy to obscure the ugly truth with unfounded visions of hope. It has not escaped my attention that according to the polls a large number — in fact an overwhelming majority of you — have lost faith in my ability to lead us through this crisis. And yet I am certain that few of you would prefer to allow the fundamentalists and the KDT to impose their totalitarian controls on your lives.
"Still, in all honesty, I acknowledge that there is every reason for you to be skeptical, and I would not be so presumptuous as to expect, or even to ask, you to abandon that skepticism based merely on what I say to you here tonight. Again, I believe actions speak far louder than words. In a moment, I will present a simple proposal in which I will outline the actions I will undertake, and the means by which you may be absolutely certain that what I say tonight is true and that victory is ours.
"First, however, allow me to take a moment to set the events of the past few weeks in perspective.
"Seven years ago, famines and drought struck India and Pakistan, leaving 4l/2 million dead and ultimately leading to the China-India-Pakistan War, in which an additional 420 million people died. While these at first appeared to be tragic but natural events, we later realized that the planet had come under attack from outside, by a spirit being known as Yahweh, and that he was acting in concert with and at the invocation of his human mediums, the men John and Saul Cohen.
"Less than six months later, an asteroid entered the earth's atmosphere and, in a span of mere minutes, wiped out most of the population of central Canada and the midwestern United States as well as nearly all of Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Columbia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Guyana, Peru, Brazil, Bolivia, and Paraguay, leaving tens of millions more injured and homeless and turning one-third of the world's forests, including the once vast woodlands of North America and most of the South American rainforests, into funeral pyres.
"The same day, on the other side of the world, a second asteroid struck in the Pacific south of Japan, causing earthquakes, tsunami, and unprecedented volcanic activity which killed additional millions and left the ocean a blood-red pool of death as it totally destroyed all marine life in the Pacific.
"The two asteroids had the additional effect of so displacing the ozone layer that all grains and grasses throughout the world were destroyed, resulting in worldwide famine.
"A third asteroid, far larger than the first two and capable of eliminating all life on the planet, was destroyed while it was still a safe distance from the earth, thanks to the cooperation of the member nations of the U.N. But weeks later, as the dust of the third asteroid reached the earth, we learned that it contained a high content of arsenic, a deadly poison which polluted much of the earth's water supply. Altogether from the asteroids, 380 million innocent men, women and children died. Again, this was no natural disaster, but rather the vile handiwork of Yahweh.
"The following year, insects, genetically mutated by the design of Yahweh and whose coming was foretold by John and Cohen, swarmed over the earth for five full months, causing havoc and horrible suffering. And though none died from the attack of these locusts, the pain was so great that death would have been preferred by those who endured the excruciating torment of their stings. Many, perhaps most of you listening tonight, experienced that pain firsthand.
"Four months after the locusts died, a follower of the KDT, without provocation, shot and killed me in cold blood, and endangered the lives of hundreds of bystanders." Christopher paused to let those listening reflect on the tragic scenes of that day at the U.N. The video of the assassination had been broadcast on television so many times it was doubtful there was anyone who had not seen it. The black patch that Christopher wore over his right eye socket and his crippled left arm bore further witness to the suffering he had endured.
"Within minutes of my assassination, a savage madness swept over much of the planet, which caused neighbor to kill neighbor, spouse to kill spouse, and even parents to kill their own children. For three and a half days this madness continued unabated until, following my resurrection, I flew to Jerusalem and ended the madness by putting an end to John and Saul Cohen. In all, nearly l!/2 billion — a full one-third of the population of the earth — died because of the madness. Had I not stopped John and Cohen, it is doubtful that anyone on earth outside of Israel would have been left alive.
"When John and Cohen were themselves resurrected three days later, they left a reminder of their infamous destructiveness: an earthquake which destroyed ten percent of the city of Jerusalem and killed 7,000 people. Fortunately that was the last we would ever see of John and Cohen.
"Over the next three years, under my leadership, our planet experienced a period of unprecedented peace and prosperity. And in this environment of peace, as we entered the New Age of Humankind which Yahweh had been unsuccessful in stopping, people throughout the world of all races, cultures, nationalities, and ages began to experience powers of the mind and spirit which had only been dreamt of before.
"Thirteen months ago, with the institution of the communion, the world witnessed the end of sickness, miraculous recoveries from injuries, and even a reversal of the aging process. Humankind was at last running full speed toward its glorious destiny.
"This brings us to the events of the past four weeks.
"Unable to control us any longer, as Humankind stood poised on the threshold of the New Age, Yahweh and his henchmen, the KDT and the fundamentalists, unleashed another set of plagues intended either to frighten us into submission, or, failing that, to kill us all. First it was the lesions on those who had dared take the first step into the New Age by taking the communion. Next he turned the seas and then the fresh water to blood. Each time, as Robert Milner halted one plague, a new one followed. Next it was the extreme heat, and finally the darkness. Altogether these last five plagues have resulted in an additional 240 million deaths.
"But now that is over. Let me repeat what I said earlier. There will be no more plagues!"
"Yahweh's forces are like a three-legged stool which is made up of the KDT, the fundamentalists, and Jews who inhabit Petra. Through the cooperative efforts of police and security forces around the world, the program to deal with the fundamentalist threat is working. We have splintered that leg of the stool and broken their power! There will be no more plagues!
"The KDT, the fundamentalists, the dwellers of Petra, and Yahweh have done all the damage that they can for now. And so let the first proof that what I tell you is true be offered and confirmed on a daily basis, as no more plagues befall us.
"But it is not enough to remove the one leg of the stool. We must complete the goal by dealing also with the KDT and those in Petra. If we do nothing, they will learn to stand upon two legs and they will do even worse, to the point of destroying all of Humankind.
"I have been criticized for not dealing more harshly with the KDT and their supporters. I will admit that I have always held out hope that the KDT would see the error of their ways and join us. I do not regret having had that hope. I do, however, regret the toll in human suffering they have caused as we have held out to them the hand of peace. It is now clear that they will not travel with us. By their own choice, we must leave them behind. I know there may be some who fear that because of my patience with the KDT in the past, I may again be persuaded to offer the olive branch. Let me assure you that that will not happen. The KDT and the rest of the cult of Yahweh have shown themselves to be maniacal, intolerant, narrow-minded fanatics, cruelly calling down plagues upon the earth as if for their amusement. We must now deal with them with equal fervor.
"They have assembled themselves in the ancient walled city of Petra, and it is ironically fitting; for their religion is an ancient one: old and brittle and ready to crumble down upon them. So let it be that the legend of Joshua will serve as a metaphor for their own destruction. In that legend, all the people of Israel, under the rule of Joshua, gathered around the walled city of Jericho.80 So let us gather at Petra. But unlike the people of Israel who called on Yahweh to destroy Jericho, we will call out to no one. Neither will we bring with us any weapon. For by the very power of our combined will and inner strength, all the universe will bear witness that no walls of stone or self-proclaimed god can stand against a united Humankind. For just as the walls of Jericho in the legend fell, so shall the walls of Petra come down upon those who have rained terror down on us. Let us be rid once and for all time of Yahweh and those who would force us to our knees to worship him.
"That is my proposal. But I offer more.
"I said that I would provide the means by which you could be certain that what I have promised — the end of the plagues, the end of Yahweh's dominion, and our victory — is at hand.
"The proof that I will offer will not be a miracle at the hands of Robert Milner. Nor will I, myself, perform some miraculous deed. Instead the miracle will come from you, from Humankind, by the sheer will and power of each of you. For let me assure you," Christopher said, "that during these past three years since Humankind began experiencing the powers of the mind and spirit, time has not stood still.
"Within two weeks time, the first of three signs will be given that will offer conclusive proof that Humankind has, over the past three years, taken a giant step in the evolutionary process. It is you, those who hear my voice and have joined with the rest of Humankind, who will perform the miracle. And you will see for yourself why Yahweh fears you!
"Humankind must be free to achieve its destiny. It was not mere chance that Professor Harold Goodman found the cells on the Shroud from which I was cloned. I have come into the world to act as the catalyst that Humankind may achieve its destiny. But it is not my place to carry Humankind into the New Age. Rather, each of you must go of your own accord and under your own power. And each of you must participate, for though we each must carry our own weight, we must all go together as one family of Humankind.
"All of us have lost friends or family over the past few weeks," Christopher said, drawing his address to a close, "and it is understandable that there should be a healthy release of anger. And if some of that anger is directed at me, well then, so be it. But before you abandon the path that has brought us this far, realize that the plagues are not and have never been the result of animosity between Yahweh and myself. This began long before I was elected Secretary-General and declared the beginning of the New Age. The plagues that afflict us have a simple and undeniable root cause: after thousands of years of stagnation, evolution has brought Humankind to the brink of a transformation which will take all who embrace it as far beyond the narrow confines of the present human form as Humankind is now above the simple one-celled amoeba!
"Join me for this final battle against the cult of Yahweh and together let us forever throw open the door of the jail of evolutionary stagnation that has held us so long! Thank you, and good night."
It wasn't there.
Decker had watched carefully but the speech left him still uncertain. Whatever it was he had hoped to see wasn't there.
What had he hoped for, he wondered. Before the speech, he had thought he could look Christopher in the eye and instinctively be able to interpret his true motivation. Now that seemed an embarrassingly naive assumption. He had known Christopher for twenty-three years. If he still had doubts after that long, how could he possibly expect to get a true read of the man now, simply from watching him on television?
As far as the speech itself was concerned, Decker considered the delivery first class. Apparently the public agreed. Christopher had stressed actions over words and said he expected the words of his speech to convince few; but within fifteen minutes insta-polls showed his approval rating jumping from 12% before the speech to 31% after. The speech was inspiring, and if Christopher did what he promised — if the three signs were given and there were no more plagues — then he might once again have the world's support.
There was only one problem: the evil people of Petra Christopher described in his speech were not the people Decker had seen there. They were not 'maniacal, intolerant, narrow-minded fanatics' that Decker had met. Yes, they had a very different view of the world. And because of their belief in Yahweh and their trust in the KDT, many of the people of Petra might even support the raining down of plagues for what they wrongly but sincerely believed to be the greater good of the very people who suffered through the plagues. But Decker could not believe that any of the people he had met there would 'cruelly call down plagues upon the earth, as if for amusement,' as Christopher had said.
Christopher obviously did not understand. Granted, it was a fine point to try to argue in light of the suffering that had occurred, but Decker had to do something. He thought of Rhoda, young Decker Donafin, Tom, Jr., Rachael, and Charlie the 'jailer,' and the many others he had met. The battle that Christopher had described would leave them all dead. He had watched the speech to discover Christopher's true motives. Now that no longer mattered. Whether Christopher was the embodiment of good or the epitome of evil, Decker could not sit still and let the people of Petra be killed. His course was set for him. He had to return to Babylon.
Somehow Decker needed to arrange for a flight to Babylon. He couldn't simply buy a ticket. Without the mark he couldn't buy or sell anything. The only way was to get someone from his office at the U.N. to arrange passage on a United Nations plane. He'd also need a limousine to get to and from the airports. It had been a week and a half since his long distance telephone service was cut off. He had expected to lose his local service by now as well, but the circumstances of the last two plagues, not surprisingly, had affected the phone company's efficiency and they had not yet disconnected him. The net result was that while he could not place a long distance call, he could still make and receive local calls, and he could probably still receive long distance calls placed to him. No sooner had he thought through the problem than he had an answer. He would simply call Bert Tolinson and have him call the U.N. and have them call him back. Decker would tell Tolinson that losing his long distance service was all part of the same mix-up as with the bank and that he needed to reach his office to get things straightened out.
Fifteen minutes after Decker called Tolinson the phone rang. It was Kwalindia Oshala, Debbie Sanchez' administrative assistant. She was working late when she got the call from Bert Tolinson. She was both helpful and very friendly to Decker and told him how much everyone had missed him around the office, and they'd be glad to have him back. Decker explained what he needed, and she checked the scheduled U.N. flights from Washington to Babylon. There was only one, the first since the darkness. It was scheduled to leave Dulles Airport at 6:00 that evening. It would make three stops along the way, and arrive in Babylon at 6:30 p.m. the next day. Kwalindia booked the flight and arranged limousine service.
Decker went without luggage; he had none with him when he had arrived in Derwood. He wore loose fitting clothes and bandages on his left cheek, the back of his neck, and on the back of his right hand where the mark should have been. All went as planned, and by 7:00 p.m. he was in the air on his way back to Babylon.
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