The Prophet of Queens

by Glenn Kleier

  She whipped out her phone to display a selfie of herself and Butterfield toasting.

  Bobby Driscoll’s spa-tanned face went white. Murmurs filled the room, and the campaign chairman raised a hand for silence. He asked Kassandra, “What’s your name, young lady?”

  Shonda responded, “She’s one of our interns, Kassandra Kraft. And she’s cleared none of this with me.”

  The chairman said, “Well, I’m glad to see someone around here has initiative.” He looked hard at Kassandra. “You honestly believe you can get Ellen a meeting?”

  Kassandra wasn’t sure. Butterfield had waffled last night when she’d asked. But she’d made it very clear that he’d be very happy if he did. He’d almost melted.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “I’m certain.”

  “Have a seat.”

  There wasn’t one, and the chairman pointed to Shonda, saying, “Yours will do.”

  Flushing, Shonda snatched her things and retreated to a corner, and Kassandra took her place.

  Chapter 79

  October 23, 1:00 pm, Talawanda

  Ariel and her team’s hope to pry the Shackleton tape away from Thornton had taken a big hit.

  Last night, watching a four-year-old Hawk News special, they were stunned to see Butterfield give away their bargaining chip. The Prophet had informed Thornton of Alice Willoughby’s illness.

  The team had been forced to stall Butterfield again, scrambling to handle today’s morning session with an epistle, ordering the Prophet to sit tight till further notice. Meanwhile, Tia had detected a change in the City of God Hospital records. Four years ago this morning, Alice Willoughby was admitted for medical tests. Which helped assuage Max’s anger.

  “If the tests come back positive,” he’d decided, calmer, “we get our leverage back.”

  Ariel didn’t appreciate the macabre silver lining. In her room now, she was preparing for the next run, changed into angel mode once more, sitting on her bed staring at her laptop.

  Her stepfather’s secret files stared back.

  Ariel had done as Tia asked. She’d copied Phil’s files to the rabbit’s foot, the damning evidence now safely stored on the other side of the wormhole, hanging from a limb of the houseplant.

  But Ariel still couldn’t summon the courage to read the files.

  Lying back, she stared out the window, thoughts drifting to a dark place…

  She was fourteen the last time Phil laid hands on her. Autumn of her sophomore year in high school. She recalled with a clarity born of trauma. Classes let out at 3:00, and as usual, she’d walked home to an empty house. Mom typically arrived from Church by 4:30, Phil a few hours later, and Ariel went to her room to start her homework. She’d hardly begun when she heard the front door slam—Phil’s signature response to a bad day at work.

  A chill shot through her. A very bad day for him to leave this early.

  He called out, “Who’s here?”

  Ariel went stone still.

  Phil cried louder, “I said, who’s here? ARIEL?”

  She cowered in her chair, unable to speak. There came heavy footsteps on the stairs, bursts of Phil swearing, and Ariel trembled beyond control. The swears reached her door, and it burst open to reveal Phil, red-faced and glaring. He bellowed, “When I speak to you, by God, you answer.”

  Ariel couldn’t, frozen with panic, and he made for her. “I’ll teach you respect,” he snarled.

  She recoiled, helpless as he hauled her into his arms and to the bed. Sitting with his legs spread, he threw her facedown over one knee, slung his other leg over the back of hers to curb her kicks, and forced an elbow in her spine to pin her. Pulling up her skirt, he yanked down her drawers, and she felt faint, tensing for the sting of his palm.

  It didn’t come. Nothing but hot breath on her bare skin…

  An eternity, Ariel’s heart pounded ever faster, Phil’s breaths grew shorter. Then a voice at the doorway cried, “Phil? Phil? Oh my God.”

  He released Ariel, and she jumped up into Mom’s arms, wailing.

  Later, Ariel learned there had been multiple suicides at the Institute that day. Three young women in some sort of pact, details never disclosed. Phil had left work distraught, his secretary phoned Mom out of concern, and Mom rushed home in time to save Ariel from God-knew-what. Mom must have finally confronted Phil. Though the leering and uncomfortable atmosphere persisted, never again did he lay hands on her —

  The sounds of whooping in the living room jolted Ariel back to the present. There came heavy footsteps in the hall, her door flew open, and Max blew in, grinning.

  “Positive for breast cancer,” he cried. “Back in business!”

  Only Max could celebrate such news. Ariel asked anxiously, “Did they catch it in time?”

  “Seems so. They’re doing a simple lumpectomy.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to her feet. “Regardless, you’re on.”

  They joined Tia and Stan in the living room, and everyone hustled out to the tent. But when they unzipped the door and ducked inside, they stopped cold in their tracks.

  Once again, the table was askew, things scattered everywhere across the floor.

  “It wasn’t one of us,” Tia said. “No one left the house since the morning run.”

  Ariel asked, “But if it was a stranger, wouldn’t Newton have warned us?”

  Trading concerned looks, they picked up, awaiting the next run.

  Chapter 80

  Thursday, October 23, 1:55 pm, Queens

  “For Pete’s sake,” Ivy cried, joining Scotty at his computer. “A chance to meet Ellen Shackleton! Why should it matter to the Lord now? You delivered His message to Thornton, Mission accomplished, you’re free!”

  Scotty sighed. Apparently not. Ariel had skipped their morning session, sending in her place another annoying epistle, ordering Scotty to do nothing more till further notice. No “thanks” for his efforts to help Thornton’s secretary, which appeared to be in time—Kyle Heath had called earlier with an encouraging medical update.

  Ivy prodded, “If you won’t see Shackleton, let me.”

  Scotty shrugged her off. He’d no desire for either of them to be used as political pawns. Not even for Kassandra.

  The thunder arrived on cue, and when the noises ceased, the angel appeared in her customary splendor. Again, Scotty thought he detected a sadness in her. They exchanged greetings and he reported, “Good news. Looks like they caught Ms. Willoughby’s illness in time. I trust the Lord’s pleased, and we can wrap things up now.”

  Ariel replied slowly, “I’m afraid there’s more to it than that. The Lord wants you to contact Reverend Thornton again. You’re to schedule a private meeting in the City of God, right away.”

  Scotty’s gut tightened. He’d no intentions of going anywhere. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your role in the Lord’s Mission is not complete. All will be revealed soon. Set the meeting first, contact Thornton immediately. I’m sending you an epistle with his private number.”

  A new message appeared in Scotty’s mail, and before he could protest, Ariel added, “You must meet no later than this weekend, and only in the City of God. Confirm to me tomorrow morning that Thornton has accepted the meeting, and I’ll have further instructions for you. Do nothing more. Patience, your Mission will soon be over.”

  Ivy blurted, “Wait-wait. Before you go, Ellen Shackleton sent word she wants to meet us. The Lord can’t object to that, right?”

  Ariel’s eyes widened. Glancing offscreen, she turned back to insist, “Neither you nor Scott must meet with any politician under any circumstances. You must not talk politics with anyone, including the media, or show favoritism to any candidate. Is that clear?”

  Ivy snapped, “How does Scotty hanging out with Thornton not favor Filby?”

  Ariel looked confused. “The, the Lord has His reasons. He forbids you to meet with Ellen Shackleton. Tell me you understand.”

  Ivy went red, and Scotty placed a hand on her shoulder to repl
y, “Understood. One more thing. There are people out here in the streets, hundreds, broke and hurting. Times are tough. The Lord helped Ms. Willoughby and Teddy, can he please do something for these people, too?”

  Ariel bowed her head. “I’m sorry. Focus on your Mission, we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  And she was gone.

  Scotty and Ivy sat silent till the noises returned and dissipated, then Ivy snipped, “Seems the Lord works in oblivious ways!”

  “I get the feeling Ariel is as frustrated as we are,” Scotty said. “Apparently, it’s not all bliss and tranquility on the other side.”

  He opened the epistle on his screen, took out his phone, and dialed. Thornton’s distinct baritone answered, and Scotty put him on speaker for Ivy.

  “Hello, Reverend, this is Scott Butterfield. The angel gave me your number.”

  There came a gasp, then, “Mr. Butterfield! Oh, praise God, what an unexpected pleasure!”

  “How’s Ms. Willoughby doing?”

  “They’re operating as we speak. A simple procedure at this stage, prospects are excellent.” The man’s voice was thick with emotion. “I-I’m sooo grateful to you. You, and the Lord.”

  “Great news,” Scotty said, seeing Ivy give a fist pump. “And please, call me ‘Scott.’”

  “Bless you, Scott. If only there were a way I could repay you.”

  “There is, I think.”

  “Anything.”

  “The Lord wants me to meet with you in the City, right away. I don’t know the purpose yet, but I know it’s important. Would this weekend be possible?”

  “Oh my goodness, absolutely! Wonderful! Saturday is Harvest Homecoming. We have a parade, a football game, a banquet. You’ll be my guest.”

  Feeling an elbow in his ribs, Scotty added, “And can I bring my sister, Ivy?”

  “Of course. I’m thrilled. I’ll send my plane for you both whenever you wish.”

  Scotty thanked him, promising to get back with specifics. They hung up, and Ivy squealed, “We’ve never been on a plane. Heck, we’ve never been anywhere.”

  True. Scotty might have been excited, too, but for the mysterious purpose of their trip.

  There came a knock at their door, and Scotty went to the peephole to see Kassandra in the hall looking gorgeous in a black bodystocking.

  Chapter 81

  October 23, 4:44 pm, Talawanda

  Ariel was in her room, catching up on journal entries when she was startled by a loud bang. Something had struck her window. A small branch.

  She’d failed to notice a storm brewing, sky murky.

  Max was aware, booming in the hallway, “All hands on deck, we’re about to lose the tent.”

  Hurrying out, Ariel joined Stan and Tia in the living room. The door stood open, breeze rushing through, fresh scent of rain. Max was already at the tent, holding onto a tie rope, trying to pound in a loose peg with his shoe.

  They raced to his aid, and Max looked to Stan. “Ground’s too hard, get a hammer.” To Tia, “Plastic sheets.” To Ariel, “Grab the corner and don’t let go.”

  Stan hustled for the barn, Tia the house, and Ariel grasped the loose canvas, wind whipping it like a sail. Cold drops began to pelt. A turn in weather was long overdue, and it was turning with a passion. But as Ariel dug in, she felt queasy.

  The collider? An unscheduled run? In fact, they were inside the Trapping Horizon, but she’d heard none of the warning noises. Then suddenly, the ground trembled and she lost her grip, tumbling onto Max, ending up in his lap in the grass. He managed to hang onto the loose canvas, saving the tent.

  “Earthquake,” Ariel cried.

  A brief one. Ten seconds or less. As it subsided, Ariel heard a strange, deep rumble all around. Max stared past her to the horizon, alarm in his face, and she followed his eyes to a terrifying sight. A dark, ominous, towering wall of cloud, sweeping toward them from every direction, converging on the tent. He gasped.

  “No earthquake, Timequake. And here comes the wave.”

  Ariel grabbed Max with all her might as he hung onto both her and the tent. Her fears turned to Tia and Stan, and she saw Tia scramble down the porch steps with plastic tablecloths, Stan rounding the house, hammer in hand. Both seemed unaware of the looming disaster.

  Ariel shouted to them. They didn’t hear, and too late regardless. The wave bore down with ferocity, tall as the house, impact imminent. She shut her eyes.

  Moments passed, and she felt nothing, only the storm. Then Max cried, “I’ll be damned…”

  Through a squint she saw the wave had passed, vanished seemingly without effect.

  “You okay?” Max asked, and Ariel nodded, unable to speak.

  Stan and Tia arrived in front of them unscathed, staring down at the spectacle of Ariel and Max in each other’s grasp.

  Tia said dryly, “Rhapsody in the rain?”

  Ariel blinked to see Tia’s hair had changed. Formerly chopped and pink, it was now trimmed even and tinted purple as it lashed her face in the wind. Nothing else appeared different.

  Ariel and Max unclenched.

  Max said, “We were hit by a Timequake/Timewave. You didn’t feel it? See it?”

  Stan and Tia exchanged blank looks, and Ariel sputtered, “Th-the ground shook, it knocked us off our feet—”

  “Five-point-oh or better,” Max estimated. “Over in seconds.”

  “—then a wave of darkness, coming at us from all sides. Twenty feet high, at least!”

  “But when it reached us,” Max said, “it just evaporated.”

  Stan and Tia looked around warily, insisting they’d neither seen nor felt anything.

  Stan whispered, “Holy cow, our first butterfly.”

  A rift in Time, accumulated changes in the past catching up to the present.

  The rain broke hard. Max lifted Ariel to her feet, motioning everyone into the tent. Taking the hammer, he went around pounding in the stakes while the others ducked inside, soaked.

  Everywhere on the tent floor, items lay strewn and broken. Ariel picked up as Tia and Stan spread plastic sheets over equipment. Soon Max joined them, dripping, frowning at the clutter to note the obvious. “This wasn’t our first Timequake.”

  “Or Timewave either, I’ll wager,” Stan said.

  Tia frowned. “But when the wave hit, it disappeared? You felt the quake, but not the wave?”

  “Exactly.” Max said. “The wave had no effect on either of us, far as we could tell. It died out the instant it hit, without a trace.”

  “What caused it?” Ariel asked. “Saving Thornton’s secretary?”

  Max said, “Anyone’s guess. But judging by the mess in here, the quakes are getting bigger.”

  Tia asked, “So why did the quake affect you and Ariel, and not Stan and me?”

  Max took a lock of Tia’s wet hair in his fingers. “I don’t know about the quake, but the wave affected you. You had pink highlights before it struck.”

  Ariel added, “Your hair was cut differently, too.”

  “But I’ve worn it like this as long as you’ve known me,” Tia said, and Stan backed her up.

  Max frowned. “Seems the wave affected more than your hair. Our memories are out of sync.”

  The rain slackened, and he unzipped the door. “Come,” he said. “Let’s warm up by a fire while we think this through.”

  Toweled off and changed into dry clothes, the team settled in with coffee by the fireplace to discuss this latest twist in the space-time continuum.

  “So what the hell happened?” Tia asked.

  Ariel offered a theory, although unable to support it.

  “The Trapping Horizon/force field,” she said. “Max and I were inside it at the time, you and Stan weren’t.”

  Max shook his head. “How could there be a force field, the collider wasn’t running?” He checked his phone. “No word from TPC of an unscheduled test.”

  “Assuming it was a butterfly,” Stan said, “something enabled you and Ariel to experience it
while shielding you from its changes. Vice-versa for Tia and me. Like you and Ariel were in a separate dimension, looking through a two-way mirror, Tia and me on the one-way side.”

  Ariel asked, “A dimension that formed inside the force field? But if the collider wasn’t running, what caused it?”

  Stan drew a long breath. “Here’s a thought. What if butterflies create their own force field, independent of the collider?”

  Getting intrigued looks, he continued, “A butterfly, even a tiny one, would release a massive amount of energy. Like an earthquake creating a tidal wave. The energy would travel down the Timeline from past to present, ending here where it all began, creating a Trapping Horizon/force field to complete the circuit.” He looked to Ariel. “Because you and Max were inside it, you were spared the wave’s updates. You and your memories were unchanged.”

  Tia exhaled. “We’re damned lucky if memories and hair were all it affected.”

  Ariel shivered to recall the monster swell, imagining it sweeping through history, washing away inconsistencies to reconcile present with past. She told Max, “If we hadn’t been inside the Horizon, none of us would be the wiser. Which begs the question, how many rewrites have we been through already that we can’t recall?”

  Things were getting super strange.

  There was worry in Tia’s eyes, and she said, “No doubt as we push ahead there’ll be more quakes and waves, and they’ll grow more intense. If today’s was a five point, imagine what flipping the election will cause. The Mother of all Big Ones.”

  “We’ll have to take turns in the tent, watching for Timequakes around the clock,” Ariel said.

  Stan said, “How about we set up a seismograph instead? I know where to borrow one.”

  Max sat back with a smile. “Imagine the papers we’ll be writing when this is over.” He turned to Ariel. “From here on, whenever we detect a quake, you’ll need to check your rabbit’s foot for changes in the archives. And now that we know the Horizon shields against Timewaves, no need to hide the foot in the plant anymore, you can keep it in the tent.”