The Prophet of Queens

by Glenn Kleier

  “Here,” she told him.

  Thornton joined her to behold a screen of swimming fish. “On the Internet?”

  She nodded. Scott seated Thornton in the center chair, he and Ivy flanked him, and Thornton felt his heart pound. This was so unlike what he’d imagined. So fishy.

  And yet, all those miraculous, impossible prophecies…

  “Cover your ears,” Ivy warned, and did so herself. “Ariel makes a noisy entrance.”

  Hardly had Thornton followed suit than a terrible thunder rolled through the room, only to be displaced moments later by a plaintive wail. The noises soon lapsed, and the computer screen awakened in dazzling white. Thornton winced, but he did not look away.

  He could make out something in the brilliance. A cloud within cloud, quickly coalescing into a recognizable shape. Humanlike. But like no human Thornton had ever seen. Impossible to discern clearly, female in form, breathtakingly beautiful. Eyes piercing like Truth, skin aglow as if with internal light.

  Scott noted, “She looks different today.”

  Ivy agreed. “Like she’s been holding back.”

  The angel’s eyes fixed Thornton to his seat, and he clutched hands to heart and tape.

  She spoke, voice silky, yet tense.

  “Good morning, Reverend. I am Ariel, Paraclete of the Lord.”

  Thornton felt his mouth move, tongue stuck.

  “The Lord wishes to know if you’ve followed his Command.”

  Thornton got his hands working, fumbling the tape from his pocket. The angel’s eyes grew more intense.

  “Are there more copies?”

  He found his voice. “N-none.”

  Appearing relieved, she pointed to Scott. “Then please…”

  Thornton said, “I graciously submit to the Lord.” The tape wavered in his grip, fingertips throbbing. “B-but I beg you, one thing more.”

  The angel frowned. “The Lord has granted you a sacred Covenant, what more do you seek?”

  It fell so quiet, Thornton could hear the tape rattling in its case. He whispered, “Forgiveness. Please, I ask the Lord’s forgiveness.”

  The penetrating eyes blinked, but the angel said nothing. Thornton pressed, “Many years ago, I committed an unspeakable sin.” He lowered his eyes. “The Lord knows, He’s punished me severely for it. Yet, He also knows I’ve lived my life since in penance. I never again repeated my trespass.” He looked up. “And now, I ask—I beg—absolution.”

  The angel seemed at a loss, looking around. At length, she said, “Very well. Yes. You’re forgiven. The Lord forgives you. Now please, the tape.”

  The pardon was so perfunctory, so anticlimactic, it stunned Thornton. He thrust the tape into Scott’s hands like shedding shackles, breaking into tears, sobbing his thanks.

  Ivy comforted him, and Scott asked the angel, “What now?”

  She replied, “Nothing more for the reverend. I’m sending you instructions on the disposition of the tape. You must follow it to the letter, without delay. I’ll return at 2:00, and if you’ve done as instructed, you’ll be freed of your Missions at last, once and for all.”

  An attachment arrived on screen, and Scotty acknowledged it.

  Thornton composed himself, and the angel squared her shoulders and seared him with her eyes once more. Then she fixed her gaze on Scott and Ivy.

  “The Lord commends you all. Through your faithfulness and courage, you’ve now ensured a blessed future for your country.”

  Ivy, silent till now, leaned forward. “What about Scotty and me? What about our futures?”

  Ariel blinked. “We, we’ll discuss that at our final session this afternoon. I must go…”

  Thornton thanked the angel profusely, feeling the sublime lightness of his purified soul. And as she dissolved back into celestial radiance, he could swear he heard cheering on the other side.

  Chapter 116

  Sunday, November 2, 10:12 am, Queens

  No one said a word as Scotty, Ivy, and Thornton absorbed the moment. Then the noises came and went, and finally Thornton exhaled. Looking a blend of awestruck, elated, and exhausted, he asked softly, “Can I trouble you to call me a cab? I believe someone at home is waiting for me.”

  Scotty obliged, and texted the police outside a heads-up. Ivy gave Thornton a hug, and Scotty escorted him downstairs.

  At the door, Scotty said, “I don’t know how to thank you, Reverend.”

  Thornton took Scotty’s hand in both of his, searching his face. “No, my friend,” he replied. “It’s I who thank you. You’ve blessed me more than you’ll ever know, and I’m eternally grateful. There will always be a place for you and Ivy in my City.”

  And seizing Scotty in a bear hug, he released him and ducked outside into the deliria.

  Scotty took his time on the stairs. He felt confused and strangely sad. With the madness coming to an end, he should have been ecstatic. Yet nagging him was the awareness that, at just twenty-six years of age, he’d just seen the high point of his life. And would soon see the last of the angel Ariel.

  Ivy was still at his computer when he returned, her face vexed, arms crossed. The Shackleton videotape sat on the desk where Scotty left it, and as he joined Ivy, he saw open on his computer screen Ariel’s instructions for the tape’s disposition.

  “You couldn’t wait for me?” he asked.

  She snapped, “The Lord won’t let us watch the tape. We’re supposed to destroy it!”

  “That comes as a surprise?”

  “After all we’ve been through to get it?”

  “What do the instructions say?”

  Ivy turned to the screen, reading aloud,

  “follow these commands immediately and to the letter

  do not view the video

  take the tape to the kitchen and place in microwave

  heat on high for 74 seconds or until spool melts

  keep fire extinguisher handy

  save residue to show at afternoon session

  do as directed and you will be absolved of further duties

  after which the lord will reveal to you your fate

  and how to change it for a brighter future”

  “A brighter future!“ Scotty cried, elated and relieved. “That’s what we needed to hear! And snatching the tape from his desk, he headed for the kitchen.

  Ivy chased after him, clutching his arm.

  “Wait,” she begged, “let’s think this through.”

  “I have. Whatever’s on here, it isn’t worth angering the Lord.”

  He pulled free and went to the cupboard, slipped the tape from its case onto a plate, stuck it in the microwave, and slammed the door. Setting the timer for 1:14, he rooted in a cabinet under the sink to produce a small fire extinguisher.

  Blowing dust from the gauge, however, he saw it read Expired. He told Ivy, “I’ll get one from a neighbor. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” He paused to lock eyes. “Give me your word.”

  She huffed, but nodded, and he left.

  Soon as the apartment door shut, Ivy grabbed the tape and ran to the living room. She could hear Scotty in the hall knocking on a door. Kassandra’s, she suspected. Apparently he got no response, footsteps trailing off, and Ivy switched on the TV and VCR, and shoved in the cassette. She lowered the volume and hit “play.”

  Her heart raced as an image came up on screen. Dim, shaky. The interior of a building. A large basement, maybe. Ivy could make out a cluster of people at one end, in burgundy robes, hooded. The camera’s perspective was waist high, and as it advanced, Ivy saw young women. College-age, clustered around something.

  No one seemed to notice the camera forcing its way in. Ivy imagined it was concealed in a purse, also explaining the muffled audio. She heard yelling, cheering, chanting.

  Then an unseen woman shouted, “Who is it? Who’s the supplicant?”

  Another unseen woman, presumably wielding the camera, answered, “Pledge Shackleton.”

  “Ha-ha. That pompous bitch. I bet Handsome Dan
’s got a milkbone for her!”

  The view pushed on through the crowd to reveal a brick wall with a burgundy shield flanked by flaming torches and a coat of arms: skulls, bones, strange symbols, and Greek.

  The image tilted down and tracked into an open area around which people were gathered, tittering and laughing. Ivy saw a burgundy blanket spread out on the floor, gold letters in the center that she couldn’t make out. Kneeling on the letters facing away was a woman in a hooded robe and Versace boots, hood up. Facing her was another woman in a robe holding a leash. Whatever it tethered was obscured by the kneeling woman.

  Some sort of ceremony. As the camera drew near, Ivy heard the woman with the leash intone, “…to accept you tonight into the bonds of eternal sisterhood. Now, bow and consummate your fealty with the actum humilitatis.”

  The crowd began chanting, “Kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss,” and the woman on her knees appeared to take a deep breath. Dropping to her elbows, she exposed in front of her an enormous bulldog squatting in a navy turtleneck with a large, white “Y” on the chest.

  But it wasn’t a kiss she was delivering. Ivy watched stunned as the woman’s head bobbed up and down under the dog, and the room erupted in jeers and groans. Then the woman raised up and shook off her hood, auburn hair spilling out. And turning to accept rounds of disgust, she wiped her lips on her sleeve and smirked wickedly, defiantly. As she did, the dog came into view again, wagging its tail, sporting an erection.

  Ivy recoiled, freezing the video, appalled. She nearly threw up. But quickly she sobered at the sound of footsteps in the stairwell outside. Heart racing, she scrambled to eject the tape, switching things off, rushing for the microwave, flinging the tape inside like it was radioactive.

  Seconds later, Scotty entered the kitchen with another fire extinguisher. “Mrs. Steiner to the rescue again,” he said.

  But paying Ivy a look, he frowned. “You all right? You look sick.”

  “Homer’s cat food,” she said, waving a hand in front of her nose.

  “You think it stinks in here now…”

  Ordering her back, extinguisher at the ready, Scotty hit “start.” The oven began to hum, tape revolving on the carousel.

  Ivy fought the impulse to confess. She desperately wanted to share her revulsion, her outrage, her feelings of betrayal and confusion over yet another lying, soulless, self-serving politician. Ellen Shackleton. The leader America could finally put its faith in. Champion of women, nothing to hide, her mouth to God’s Ear.

  Not that mouth.

  Ivy started to speak, but nothing came out. How could she condemn Shackleton for lying when she herself had just broken her word to Scotty?

  And then it was too late. Through the door of the oven, the tape collapsed into black goo, emitting a noxious odor. The chime went off, Scotty removed the plate, set it on the stove under the exhaust fan, and lay a hand on Ivy’s shoulder.

  “A few more hours,” he said, squeezing, “this will all be over.”

  When Ivy didn’t respond, he squeezed again. “What are you thinking?”

  She exhaled. “I’m thinking, whatever the Lord’s reward, it’s not enough.”

  Chapter 117

  November 2, Noon, Talawanda

  The moment of truth.

  Ariel, Tia and Stan sat in the living room of the farmhouse, monitoring the archives for evidence the Shackleton video was no more. Frozen on their laptop screens was the notorious image of a youthful Ellen Shackleton, in a robe on her knees, smirking. The video had debuted on YouTube four years ago today at noon, two days before the election. But the noon hour had just passed, the image remained, and the team’s concern was growing.

  Except for Max. He waltzed into the room with a bottle of champagne he’d iced for the occasion, wedging himself between the women on the couch.

  “Must you be so smug?” Tia snapped. “You’ll jinx us.”

  “Must you be so superstitious?” he replied. “Next we know, you’ll be praying.”

  Setting the bottle on the coffee table next to four glasses, he leaned into Ariel’s screen for a look. And at just that instant, the image of Shackleton vanished.

  Profound silence filled the room. Then Stan leaped up and started dancing—the most ungainly thing Ariel had ever seen. She broke out laughing and crying at the same time.

  “We did it,” he whooped. “We did it.”

  The others joined him, hugging and cheering, and Max broke open the champagne, making a point to pop it near Tia’s ear. She was too overjoyed to care.

  Pouring for all, Max toasted, “Ladies and gentleman, I give you the moon.”

  They clinked and drank. It felt so sudden and impossible and incredible.

  Wiping away tears, Ariel turned to Tia. “You can send Scott your email now!”

  Max corrected, “Not till Tuesday morning. We have a deal.”

  Tia lost her smile. “With the video gone now, what’s it matter?”

  “We settled this,” Max said. “What if there’s another copy? Or Thornton and his cronies have something else up their sleeves? You send your email as agreed. Tuesday, 10:00 AM.”

  “But if the Council has another copy,” Tia argued, “they won’t hold onto it. When Thornton fails to release his, they’ll release theirs. Surely in the next few hours.”

  Ariel begged Max, “For all we know, stopping the video could trigger the Big One. If the Tsunami strikes before Tia sends her email, it won’t transmit, she’ll have no hope of saving her mom.”

  Stan looked at Max. “Ariel’s got a point.”

  Max crossed his arms, paying Tia a cagey look. “I’m willing to be flexible. Assuming no problems surface by the first run tomorrow, you can send your email then, with one proviso.”

  Monday morning, a day before the election. But Max’s provisos always made Ariel tense.

  “…At the 2:00 session today,” he said, “we give the Prophet a last Mission. Assuming he destroyed the tape, he goes on TV tonight with a farewell announcement. He endorses Shackleton and orders his followers to vote the straight Democrat ticket.”

  Ariel was aghast. Had Max planned this maneuver all along? “But we promised Scott no more Missions. And it breaks our Covenant with Thornton, he’ll be furious.”

  Max shrugged. “The Lord changed His Mind, divine prerogative. And Thornton can blow a gasket for all I care. Nothing he can do about it without the tape.”

  Stan asked, “Shackleton will win anyway, why the overkill?”

  “It completes our moon shot,” Max said with a grin. “In addition to flipping the presidency, we’ll pick up both House and Senate. We’ll push the Dark Agers out and get our country back, in one fell swoop.”

  Tia was frantic. “But it’s going to upset Butterfield. What if he refuses to send my email?”

  “We still have leverage over him,” Max said. “The fire.” He gave everyone a hard look. “If Tia wants to send her email tomorrow morning, the Prophet endorses Shackleton tonight.”

  Chapter 118

  Sunday, November 2, 1:59 pm, Queens

  Scotty was worried about Ivy. She hadn’t been herself since the morning session, hardly touched her lunch. He’d thought maybe she was simply sad to see their Missions come to a close. Now he sensed more, but she refused to talk about it.

  He watched her drag to his computer and slump into her chair.

  “You sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he squeezed her hand.

  One last session and their lives would return to a semblance of normality, with a better life awaiting them, hopefully.

  The noises cycled through, and the angel materialized, back to her usual glow after her dramatic incandescence this morning. Scotty saw sadness in her still. He felt it, too, as he stared into her dazzling eyes for the last time. In this life.

  Ariel greeted them, and Scotty responded. But Ivy said nothing, arms and legs crossed.

  “We followed your instructions,” Scotty reported, holding up the
melted glob of cassette.

  Ariel regarded it closely, and Scotty thought he heard muffled cheers on the other side.

  “You’ve done well,” she told him, “the Lord is pleased. But there’s been a change of plans. There’s something else the Lord needs of you now.”

  That old knot returned to Scotty’s gut, and he declared, “No more, we’ve had enough.”

  Ariel exhaled. “I understand your reluctance, but the Lord insists. You must go on TV tonight and deliver a final announcement. You must endorse Ellen Shackleton and tell your followers to support all Democrat candidates with their votes.”

  Ivy gasped, and Scotty cried, “But-but, the Covenant!”

  The angel lowered her gaze. “You must have faith. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  Ivy snapped, “Nothing mysterious about it. The Lord’s breaking His Word. Again.”

  Ariel raised a hand. “There’s something else the Lord wishes you to know, and it’s very important. Your lives and the lives of others depend on it.”

  That had their attention.

  “There’ll be a fire in your building soon.”

  Scotty stiffened, and Ivy gripped his arm with both hands.

  “In return for your loyal service, and for performing this final Mission, the Lord will spare you. The fire will arise in the bedroom of apartment 2D. A faulty lamp cord.”

  Kassandra’s apartment.

  “When?” Scotty croaked.

  “Thursday, this week. Remove the hazard, and all will be well.”

  Ivy’s fingers dug deeper, and Scotty felt her tremble. The angel froze him with her eyes.

  “Go on TV tonight and do as the Lord commands. I’ll return tomorrow morning to confirm you’ve done as told.”

  Before Scotty could object, Ariel bit her lip, bid them goodbye, and dissolved. Scotty pried Ivy’s hands loose, jumped up, and raced out into the hall. This time Kassandra would see him if he had to bust down her door.

  He nearly did. A full minute of pounding and shouting before she finally opened a crack, leaving the chain on.

  “Emergency,” he cried. “There’s gonna be a fire in your apartment!”

  Kassandra screwed up her face. “How the hell do you know?”