Midnight Rider on a Graveyard Run

by Gary Koz Mraz

  Liz and I smile at each other. “We need to go there, right now.”

  “I'm Ex-NSA, and the CIA will want to debrief me,” Barkly informs them. “I can't go with you, but there's only one road. You can take two of my Enfields. I will keep the extraction team here until you return.”

  “Wait a minute, Liz! We're safe here,” Voodoomama pleads. “The military is on its way, and you have the Toxoplasma parasite. There’s just no way you should leave Liz.”

  “Sorry, Mama, but these monks have special knowledge. They knew what was going to happen long before the outbreak, and they knew that we would be back. We have no choice. Right, Zac? Are you in?” I nod in agreement. I want to motorcycle the Himalayas again.

  *

  Cleaning Lady forges desperately on in the Gobi Desert. Searing hot days turn to bone-chilling nights. Even with gloves and full leathers, it's wicked cold. Suddenly, Yang springs to life. She's frantically pounding his back and kicking the air wildly. They pull over, and Yang leaps off the motorcycle to yank off her shirt and pants as if her clothes are attacking zombies. She squats to take a prolonged leak. Jeff stares at her naked white body in the dark moonlight, thickly tattooed with wild tribal and Asian symbols and designs. Yang returns dazed, stripped, and shaking uncontrollably; she needs warmth. Jeff wraps her in a sleeping bag, sets up the tent and they crawl in. He takes off his blood-soaked clothes and crawls into the sleeping bag to share body heat with Yang. Shivering, she wraps herself around him like a grapevine hugging warm earth in a winter frost. He caresses her silken skin as she rocks against his muscular body absorbing needed heat. Soon, their sweat coalesces. Yang can snap a man's neck with a flick of her wrist but tempers her power with passion. Her entire body pulses in ecstatic rhythms, sliding slippery underneath his vigorous six and a half foot, 250 lb. build. They wrestle in rapture; his strong hands knead her supple breasts as his pelvic bone rubs against her engorged clitoris. Her nipples blush electric. Passionate kisses ignite erotic desires, and Jeff penetrates Yang. He surges with hard thrusts in slow rhythm as her moans of ecstasy deepen, and sweet pleasure becomes pangs of passion. It’s impossible to tell their bodies apart. The skin separating them all but disappears. Yang has never felt such a divine aphrodisiac of sexual bliss. Her back arches and stiffens hard as her lustful cries become screams of pleasure and rolling waves of supreme orgasm devour her entire being.

  As they lay in a pool of sweat, hearts pounding furiously, breathless and gasping for air, Yang hears a fervid cry in the distance.

  “Shhhh. Quiet, what is that?” Yang puzzled.

  Holding their breath, they listen. A distant pack of wolves mimics Yang’s howls of ecstasy in the dark desert. They laugh ecstatically, falling into each other’s bliss.

  *

  Liz and I head out to the Tashi Lhunpo Monastery. We mount two vintage Royal Enfields and head right back where all this started. Motorcycling the Himalayas—replete with magical, breathtaking vistas—is four hours of pure riding bliss. Upon arrival at the monastery, we are met by a group of Tibetan monks and escorted into the same room of 1000 golden Buddhas we visited only two weeks ago. The same three monks await us.

  “We welcome your safe return.”

  “Can you tell us what’s happening, and why we are here again?”

  “When the world’s become numb and hope fades, you must return here; right here. Do not forget this. Your life and the life of your world depend on it. This is the truth. We will be waiting.

  “You know the cause of this sickness. You know the world has changed, but you do not know the solution. You were sick; now, you are healed. What has changed? Now you are high in the mountains. It is here where the sickness cannot live; this is where the sickness dies. We have known this and have eyes and ears throughout China. We know their plans to control and enslave. But even they do not know that this poison dies high in the mountains.”

  It's revealed that the trigger virus goes dormant at 6000-foot altitude and completely dies above 10,000 feet. A combination of pressure and lack of oxygen in the cerebral cortex kills not only the trigger virus but the Toxoplasma parasite as well. That's why it's impossible for anyone at such high altitudes to contract the T- Gondii parasite.

  “Who are you monks really?” I ask. “U.S Secret service or British MI6? How can you know these things?”

  Smiling, the monk focuses his gaze directly at Liz.

  “We are the Curators, Planners and Guardians of our species. We are your great, great grandfathers and we care for you. You do not know your own destiny but we do. We monks transcend time, transect space, and know what this world will be a thousand years from now. Some call it astral projection; some, out of body experience. It’s simply the quantum teleportation of atomic particles, completely demonstrable in your science labs today. We can be anywhere, anytime. In the grand scheme of a trillion-year-old universe full of billions of life forms, anything is possible.”

  “C’mon man,” I reply. “With those abilities, you could alter the course of history.”

  “Problems cannot be solved by the same level of consciousness that created them. Your limited beliefs limit your possibilities, but that’s unimportant. Your actions and your honesty have proven yourself commendably. You have followed, and will continue to follow, a path of truth. But remember, there is always more than one truth.”

  He turns to Liz. “And you, young lady, will learn to be still as the world turns around you. But for now, you both need to get to back immediately.”

  Liz’s phone rings. It’s Voodoomama. “Lizzy, the extraction helicopter team will be at the Paro Airport in three hours!”

  As we mount our Royal Enfield’s the monk again drapes prayer beads on us, adding, “My friends, read the writings of John the Apostle in the Bible.”

  “The Book of Revelation? Why?” Liz questions.

  “As I said, there is always more than one truth,” he replies with a sardonic smile.

  *

  At the crack of dawn, Jeff and Yang awake, their lives forever changed. They are now lovers and soul mates, and more importantly, guardians. They pack the bike and discuss a plan. Yang knows exactly where Yin is via her tracking device and knows a way to get to Kathmandu fast. The first major city they will hit is Lanzhou, with over three million people and a large military base. As they head towards the city, a squadron of low flying Chinese Chengdu J20 jets scream overhead, and within minutes the sky lights up as another nuclear wind hits them. The Jets have just completely wiped the ToxoZombie army and Dead City off the face of the earth.

  They pull into the first hotel on the outskirts of Lanzhou. Yang makes a phone call and within the hour a Chinese military Sikorsky H-3 transport chopper lands outside the property.

  “Many mistrust my Government and their actions,” Yang explains. “But they, like me, are willing to risk their lives to stop this madness.” They board the waiting chopper and are transported to Bhutan.

  In Bhutan, the entire team—Voodoomama, Liz, Fifi, Yin and I—are at the Paro Airport preparing to board a British military transport helicopter to London.

  “I don't believe it! Look!” I exclaim. The Chinese military chopper lands and out pops Yang and Cleaning Lady. Yin and Voodoomama run over, and all the women hug and gush. Yang hands the Saber of Fate to Voodoomama.

  “I brought this back to you. It saved our lives.”

  “It always does,” Voodoomama smiles. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She is in tears.

  “How the hell did you get here so fast?” I ask Cleaning Lady.

  “Yang is amazing. She knows very powerful people who will do anything for these women. These sisters are very different from us, and special in many ways.”

  Chapter 15 - Revelations

  We are all transported by helicopter to a U.S army base in India, and board a military jet to London. It’s here at Westminster Abbey, in the infamous War Room, we reveal our findings over the next several days. With the discovery that the Toxoplasmosis and trig
ger viruses die at high altitude, and that the host then becomes immune to any future contagion, plans are hatched to set up High Altitude Pressure stations globally to process critical military and political personal. The immediate manufacture and distribution of HAPO bags for tens of thousands of other essential civilian personnel begin.

  Globally, the second stage of the Toxo virus attack has settled into a mild state. Most people are back to work, and things are on track and in order. Still, the majority of the world's population is contaminated with the active Toxoplasma parasites.

  During the following months, high-level meetings are convened at the War Room, but only Voodoomama is invited to participate. The president of almost every country is in attendance, as is the Vatican hierarchy.

  Thundertaker planners present a strategy to utilize the Chinese's own insidious tactics against them. Each country will begin a media campaign to buy local and NOT purchase Chinese-made products. The respective governments will promote messages to buy German, buy British, and buy American. As people begin demanding local products, the governments offer substantial incentives to manufacturers to bring manufacturing back home. On a global scale, the intent is to economically bankrupt China, putting them at the mercy of the rest of the world. Silently, subversively, within a year, China will be on their knees.

  The plan succeeds in four months. China is desperate, and the world's manufacturing power has shifted. In their impressionable state, the global population has taken the message to heart. This completely revitalizes the global economy. The populous of every country now purchase goods made locally or regionally.

  International corporations are threatened with extinction. Following a global trend, Walmart reinvents itself as “WalMarket.” The enormous empty retail locations become open markets, housing vendors, local suppliers, and goods manufacturers. World peace has settled, and a socio-economic trade balance exists worldwide. The Vatican and the Catholic Church take credit for the order, reigniting a rebirth of religious faith.

  Within the year, China becomes a democracy, and like Russia in the '90s, China struggles to rebalance. With the communist party dethroned and the military disbanded, the Chinese population becomes the largest consumer base on earth. The tides have turned, and they are now the consumers of goods manufactured from other economies worldwide.

  In America, General James Madison has become the Director of the NSA, and is now one of the most powerful men in the world.

  Liz's team had been ordered to remain at the mansion in Nice, France, assisting in various military assignments and tactical support missions. Calm has settled over the world, but Voodoomama knows that a new dark treachery is unfolding. The global powerbrokers of the planet—the High Cabal, Global Elite and the Catholic Church—through the religious suffusion of global media campaigns have driven Catholicism into the collective psyche of the western world, taking credit for the global rebalancing, and current peace and prosperity. The Vatican not only has taken control of the global economy, buts now begins to control the heart and minds of the hypnotized masses with religious fervor. Voodoomama is watchful, yet silent until the Last Prophet in the Blue Turban appears.

  On the 11th of November, television news breaks a story of the arrival of the Last Prophet. Dressed in flowing white robes, his façade mirrors the western depiction of a bearded Jesus Christ. His commanding presence and compelling speeches captivate the world. This prophet calls for complete solidarity among Christians, Hindus and Muslims. They are all hypnotized by his religious rhetoric.

  Voodoomama assembles the entire team that November night. Liz, Yin, Yang, Fifi, Cleaning Lady and I are all present.

  “We are in more danger now than ever.” Voodoomama proclaims. “The Catholic Church is intentionally manifesting a biblical apocalypse and is literally bringing the Book of Revelation to fruition.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Mama?” Liz pipes. “We have local, sustainable economies, global peace, and more class equality than at any time in our history. The Muslims have always been at odds with Christian infidels. This is nothing new.”

  Voodoomam is stern and direct. “You don't see the lie. It has nothing to do with sustainable economies. Instead, it has everything to do with religious fanaticism, world domination, and exterminating those that threaten control. Perhaps you don't recall the crusade when 100,000 people were tortured and killed in the name of the church and god, or the witch hunts of the middle ages when 60,000 women were brutally murdered in the name of church and god. Hitler convinced a nation that 9 million Jews should be purged in the Final Solution. And perhaps you’ve forgotten Mao Tse Tung's Cultural Revolution? Mao ordered the murder of 30 million of his own people. All of their followers did precisely what they were told like hypnotized zombies.”

  She continues. “No, this is not a time of peace. This new Prophet is an instrument of death. This is the beginning of a religious war that will take a billion lives.” She is obviously distraught and bordering an emotional breakdown.

  “But why? Who wins? What’s the point?” Cleaning Lady asks.

  “The goal is always the same: control. They want to control wealth, power, and the hearts and minds of the masses. You have absolutely no clue who actually runs the world's economy or why. I will give you another history lesson. The Knights Templar set up the world's first central banking system, essentially holding traveler's money and returning it at the destination because thievery ran rampant. They became so powerful that on Friday the 13th of October, 1307, hundreds of the Knights Templar were arrested in France. That’s why it’s become a day of bad luck. Motivated financially and undertaken by the Catholic Church, King Philip IV falsely charged the Templar’s with heresy and compromising the scruples of the Pope. They were all executed.”

  “Don't go all Da Vinci Code on us, Voodoomama! What's that got to do with what's happening right now?” I retort.

  Voodoomama becomes more agitated. “After the destruction of the hierarchy of Knights Templar, the remaining fled to locations throughout Europe. Their shipping fleet and cache of gold were never seen again, until the creation of the Bank of England, the Swiss Banks, and then the German Banks of Mayer Amschel Rothschild. The Knights Templar set into motion what now are the most powerful financial institutions on Earth. Corrupt leaders around the world use Swiss banks to hide ill-gotten gains. These economic hit men make and break world leaders like puppets on a stage. This High Cabal is not elected, like presidents or prime ministers that come and go with popularity and term limits. These global elites are 13 families that manipulate the world's economy, run religious agendas, control high finance, and dominate mass media. They profit at the expense of the masses regardless of the social or environmental costs.”

  “They are called corporations,” Liz blurts, “and that's what they do.”

  “You all listen to me very carefully. I know this to be true. All wars are banker's wars cloaked in religion, and this will the big one, the end times. The four horsemen of the apocalypse besiege, and the White Horseman has already assailed with pestilence and global epidemic disease, the T- Gondii parasite. He is the slayer of the beast in man, and that is precisely what has happened. The spirit and fire of humanity have been numbed. Toxoplasmosis has turned most of mankind into mindless sheep, literally following the war chants of the media and religious fervor its deadly end. The Antichrist is now upon us, and the other three horsemen loom. The Red Horse, the blood of impending war, is imminent. The Black Horse of Famine and the Pale Horse of Death, the death of a billion, will follow.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Mama,” Liz yells. “You sound like a god damned Baptist preacher! You are scaring me!”

  “I have yet begun to reveal the horror you are all about to witness. I now know what the High Cabal has been planning for decades because I am a part of it. I know what the Vatican and governments are planning. This house we are in right now is owned by NSA Director James Madison, a direct descendant of the fourth American president. Hi
s is one of the 13 family bloodlines of the Illuminati that make up the Cabal.”

  Voodoomama pauses. She is in a trance, somehow possessed, staring blankly out the two-story glass window overlooking a breathtaking view of the French Rivera’s Mediterranean coastline.