The Prophet of Queens

by Glenn Kleier

  “We’re not sure,” Ariel said. “There’ll be a change to spacetime, as we know it. A big change. Imminent. We’ve no idea what, or how to stop it.”

  Max said, “The way it’s shaping up, it won’t be a survivable event for us.”

  Scott seemed shaken, and Max pressed, “You backed the wrong horse, pal. Filby is a nightmare. The only way to avoid complete disaster is to save Congress. You’ve got to go back on the air and tell people to vote Democrat.”

  Reflecting, Scott replied, “You’ve given me no reason to trust you, and I don’t. I’m afraid I’m going to pass.”

  Strong fingers tightened on Ariel’s shoulder, and Max demanded, “What is it you want, Butterfield? A hundred million? Two hundred? Price is no object.”

  The man’s response was a stony glare.

  Max exploded. “You’re making a huge mistake. You think life’s tough for you now? Do what we say, or I swear to God we’ll bring hell down on you and your sister!”

  The cat hissed and ran off, Scott went livid, and Ariel moaned.

  Max and his insufferable bullshit, always his last resort.

  “Enough fire and brimstone, Lord,” Scott snapped, spitting the last word. “I’m done here.”

  He stood, bending down to pay Ariel a somber gaze.

  “I’m afraid for you and what’s coming,” he said, “more than you’ll ever know. But for once, let me leave you with a prophecy.” He pointed to Max. “If you do survive this, Ariel, whatever your future holds, give your heart to this conniving bastard again, and I guarantee you he’ll crush it again.”

  Ariel blinked. How’d he know about her and Max? It wasn’t in Tia’s email.

  The rabbit’s foot.

  Suddenly Scott stepped out of the frame, and seconds later his shepherd’s staff and Max’s antenna came sailing through the hole, clattering to the tent floor.

  And Ariel’s screen went dark.

  Chapter 127

  November 4, 11:06 am, Talawanda

  Shortly after the session ended, the team experienced another intense, short-lived quake. Eight-point-four. Followed by another towering, terrifying wave, larger than ever. It passed leaving no trace, other than the weight it added to the team’s despair.

  As the others picked up the tent, Max slipped outside, returning before he was missed.

  “I just got off the phone with TPC,” he announced. “My password no longer works, and no one there knows me now. They’ve no record of my employment.”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing, tent very quiet.

  Ariel whispered, “You left the bubble?”

  The protection of the bubble extended but a mere ten feet beyond the tent.

  Max shrugged. “My memories still seem intact. Including those from TPC.”

  Stan said what Ariel was thinking. “We’re anachronisms, all right. Time’s passed us by, the Big One can’t be far off.”

  Tia stopped what she was doing.

  “All the more reason for me to go,” she said. She’d booked a 12:30 flight, bags packed and sitting by the tent door. Stan was driving her to the airport. Cabs weren’t available out here, Ariel’s car wasn’t trustworthy, and Max hadn’t offered.

  Fighting tears, Ariel seized Tia’s hands, crying, “Please, take me with you.”

  Tia’s eyes welled, too, and she squeezed Ariel’s fingers. “No, mi corazón,” she said. “This is something I have to do alone. Stay here till the Tsunami passes, then we’ll see.”

  See if Tia survived, she meant—and if she still remembered Ariel.

  Ariel begged, “Let me ride to the airport with you, at least.”

  “The Big One could hit any moment. Stan’s already at risk, no sense both of you.”

  That was it, then. Ariel would be left to cower here inside the bubble awaiting the great unknown. She preferred Tia’s choice to confront the future head-on. At least Tia wouldn’t know what hit her.

  Tia placed her hands on Ariel’s shoulders. “If we’ve learned anything from all this,” she said, we’ve learned it’s impossible to predict what will happen. Maybe some of the good we tried to do will resonate. Maybe a few butterflies we set loose will land on the right side of history. I have to believe that. I have to believe that whatever becomes of us, it won’t all be for nothing.”

  Ariel forced a smile as if she believed it, too. They embraced, and Tia left her with, “I’ll call when I get in. Good luck.” And she and Stan ducked out.

  Ariel watched at the tent door, heart leaden as Stan pulled out of the drive. He stopped to grab the mail, calling to her with a smile, “Hold off on the Big One, I’ll be back before noon.”

  She waved through tears till the truck disappeared, then went to be with Newton. Stan had moved the doghouse safely inside the bubble, but what would become of Newton if something happened to Ariel? She gripped him tight, crying into his fur as the wind picked up, angry thunderheads lumbering in. Ariel worried about Tia’s flight.

  Max called from the tent, “A storm’s brewing, better get inside.”

  Ariel composed herself, and giving Newton a long squeeze, she returned to the tent.

  Max sat at the table facing her with a bottle of sherry and two glasses. He’d shoved her laptop out of the way, making room for Ariel at his side.

  “What’s this?” Ariel asked, zipping the door flap against the gusts.

  “Found it in the pantry the other day,” he said, pouring. “I was saving it for a special occasion. The end of the world will do.” He added, “Exit polls show Filby and the Dark Agers sweeping it all in a rout. Shackleton hasn’t conceded, but I’m sure we’ll know when she does.”

  He offered her the chair next to him. She sank into it, and he raised his glass.

  “To the future.”

  They clinked and drank. Bitter, and Ariel winced.

  Max topped her up, and she whispered, “Even with the wisdom of hindsight, we leave the world worse off.”

  He shrugged. “We gave our best, and came up short. C’est la vie.”

  She took another sip. Sweeter. “No regrets?”

  “Would I do things different if I had the chance? Sure. But the choices I made, I made with the data available at the time. I’m not God, after all.” He paid her a wry grin. “Or an angel.”

  If he was playing her, it felt comforting somehow.

  Ariel wanted to ask a question long stuck in her craw, something she’d resisted, knowing the dignity it would cost her.

  But with the clock running out, it was now or never.

  “Any regrets about us?”

  She watched his tongue roll along the inside of his cheek. He took his time, then said, “You know, I never set out to hurt you. It just…happened.”

  Ariel felt a flash of hurt and anger. “Don’t hand me that. We both know you grew tired of me. The prudish rube wasn’t enough for you.”

  He spread his hands. “We’re all ruled by forces we can’t control.”

  Was he referring to himself, or her? Incredulous, she asked, “You’re telling me, you couldn’t control your libido?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  She set her drink down hard. “Don’t try to turn this into a bipolar thing. I know more about your condition than you do.”

  Back during those painful days, Ariel had strived to learn all she could about the demons of his disorder. An overcharged sex drive wasn’t among them.

  Max said, “It has nothing to do with my condition. It’s my meds.”

  “What?”

  He nodded. “Hypersexual Dysfunction. Side effect of the Valpro. It helped my mood swings, but amped my sex drive.”

  Ariel rocked back in her chair. She knew little about psychotropic medications, recalling his aggressive, self-indulgent behavior that drove her away, and him into the arms of another woman.

  “I didn’t know at the time,” he said. “I found out online, and experimented with my dosage till I found a better balance.”

  �
�Why didn’t you tell me—not that it excuses what you did.”

  “By then, things between us had scabbed over.”

  Suddenly Ariel found herself in a backwash of emotion. Closing her eyes, she swam in confusion and frustration. She was so ignorant about matters of the heart, always looking to Tia for guidance. A part of her still loved the man. The first and only love she’d ever known.

  A clap of thunder made her jump, and a strong arm wrapped her shoulders, musky scent filling her with nostalgia. She felt weary to the soul, and he pulled her close to kiss her neck.

  It felt so endearing.

  He said, “I never stopped loving you, and no Timewave will ever change how I feel.”

  There came that look again. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, hot, moist. The memories flooded, Ariel weakening.

  Outside, the wind kicked up, snapping the canvas. A corner of the tent went slack, and Max disengaged to say, “I’d better snug the rope. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

  He refilled her glass, jumped up, undid the door flap, and ran out.

  Ariel shook her head, overloaded, unable to clear her mind. But end of the world or not, there was something she had to know.

  Rising, she circled the table to her laptop, turning her back to the door, bending down to type into Google Search:

  Valpro: sexual dysfunction

  Seconds later she was inundated with results. Foremost was a pharmacology white paper with several lines highlighted, including:

  Among the top antipsychotics prescribed to treat bipolar disorder, sodium valproate (Valpro) has no known sexual side effects.

  She froze. And before she could recover, she heard the door flap zip closed, Max purring, “I’ve missed you so, I want you back…”

  Hands gripped her hips. Brazen, presumptuous hands.

  Instantly, Ariel went from frozen to white hot. Pirouetting, she laid her palm hard across Max’s leering face. He fell to the floor, shocked, a red handprint glowing on his cheek. Ariel was just as shocked, she’d never struck another being in her life.

  He gaped up at her wide-eyed as she stormed, “I wouldn’t take you back if you were the last man on Earth.”

  Which, in their world, he very well could be.

  Stan should have been back by now.

  Chapter 128

  November 4, 12:49 pm, Talawanda

  A truce of sorts settled over the tent. Ariel in one corner on her phone, trying to reach Stan, Max in another on his laptop, in a sulk. Outside, a slow-moving squall rumbled as it advanced.

  Again Ariel was sent straight to voicemail, again leaving word, “Stan, call me, I’m worried.”

  She turned to Max to insist, “For God’s sake, give me your car keys.”

  Cheek still red, he replied without looking up. “If Stan ran into his Doppelgänger, there’s nothing we can do.”

  Big One notwithstanding, Stan could already have been erased from existence.

  Ariel could take no more. Hoping her car had a few more miles of life, she grabbed her keys, leaped up, and marched for the door.

  But as she unzipped it, she was relieved to hear the crunch of gravel in the drive, and rushed out into cool breeze and black skies—only to brake.

  Not Stan’s truck. Much bigger. Orange.

  It grated to a dusty stop, and two men emerged. One was huge and had Stan in his grasp, hauling him from the cab by his collar, Stan’s face bloodied and bruised.

  Ariel moaned and ducked back before they spotted her.

  “What?” Max grumbled.

  “Those men in the orange truck. They’ve got Stan.”

  Max sprang to join her, peering out. “Crap. They beat our location out of him.”

  “Stan would never give us away,” Ariel insisted. “They found our mail in his pickup.”

  She stole a look to see the men muscle Stan toward the house. Newton began to bark, the men glanced over, and Max pulled Ariel back. She heard the big man snarl, “What’s in the tent?”

  “Nothing,” Stan replied. “Equipment. Storage.”

  Newton was going nuts when suddenly a gun went off. Ariel jumped, and Newton yelped and fell silent. Before Ariel could cry out, Max muffled her with a powerful hand.

  “Not a sound,” he whispered, “or we’re all dead.”

  The big man told his partner, “Check the tent, I’ll do the house. An’ hands off the blonde bitch, she’s mine.”

  The porch door slammed, and Ariel shuddered through her tears. At least it appeared Tia had escaped their clutches. Max grabbed Ariel and pulled her to the side, forcing her to crouch.

  “Don’t move,” he hissed, and went to stand by the door. In his hands was the shepherd’s staff, and he gripped it like a baseball bat, curved end high as he reared back.

  Footsteps approached on the lawn, slowed, and a voice said cautiously, “If you’re in there, come out, or I’ll shoot.”

  Max gave Ariel a warning glance and cocked himself. A handgun protruded through the door, followed by a squinting, whiskered head in a ball cap.

  “Ah ain’t shittin’ ya—”

  The words ended in a crunch of shattered teeth and bone as Max brought the staff around like a Louisville Slugger. The man dropped the gun and fell out the door in a heap of gushing blood. Max gave him a few more swings, leaving Ariel shocked and nauseous. She feared the man was dead.

  “Listen to me,” Max told her, picking up the gun, sticking it in his belt. “If we’re gonna get out of this, I need your help.”

  “Wh-wh-what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going around to the side of the house. When the bastard comes out, show yourself and draw his attention. He won’t shoot if you’re not armed, that’s not what he has in mind.”

  “You’ll shoot him?”

  Max grunted. “I never fired a gun in my life, I’m liable to hit you or Stan.” He brandished the staff. “Just stand here in the doorway, I’ll do the rest.”

  And heading outside, he took the fallen man by a foot, dragged him to the side of the house out of sight, and flattened against the clapboard, giving Ariel a thumbs-up.

  Ariel moved numbly to the door, heart thundering, thunder thundering, tent flaps flapping. Then the porch door blew open and Stan burst out ahead of the big man and his gun.

  Stan saw her, his eyes went wide, and he yelled, “Run, Ariel, run.”

  The big man shut him up with the butt of his gun, and Stan tumbled down the stairs in a tangle. Ariel cried out, lightning burst, and the storm unfurled. The man stepped over Stan and lumbered for her, calling, “Bo, where are ya?” And to Ariel, “Where’s your asshole boyfriend?”

  Ariel clenched to see Max slip out from hiding and steal up behind, staff at the ready. Her heart pounded triple-time as Max closed, and then he launched like a ninja, bringing the staff down hard on the big man’s gun hand. The man howled, his gun went flying, and before he could react further, Max planted his feet, flipped the staff end-for-end, and hooked it around the man’s thick neck, pulling and tugging. A cowboy with a roped steer.

  But the big man hardly budged. Face dark as the skies, he turned, shook off his injury, and grabbed the staff in both hands. A tug of war. A war Max was no match for, it looked. He was jerked around as if he weighed nothing. Ariel couldn’t watch.

  Literally.

  The ground beneath her began to buck, tossing her back into the tent. She landed hard, wind knocked out of her. The earth continued to heave and rock like a paint-can shaker, tumbling her about. Anything in the tent not battened down toppled and shook to pieces.

  The Big One.

  How long the quake lasted, Ariel had no idea, rattled senseless. But when it stopped, somehow the tent remained standing. She raised to her elbows, dizzy, panting, aching and fearful as her thoughts returned to the other crisis at hand. Out in the yard, removed from the bubble, Max and the man had ceased their struggle to gape at her. They stood with mouths moving, no sound, not even from bolts of lightning overhead.

/>   And then Ariel saw it. Far off on the horizon, a dark wall of cloud roiling like a dust storm, high as the sky. It approached in a fury from every direction, all the eerier for its silence. A tidal wave of Time to wipe away the old and leave a transformed world in its wake. A world that, despite all their ardent efforts, Ariel and team had failed to save from the Dark Agers.

  The wave was more massive by far than previous, and Ariel had no faith the bubble could withstand it. Far worse for the two men who battled in its path. She cried out to Max, not that he could hear. He knew what to expect, letting go the staff, breaking for the tent.

  But his opponent had position on him, and as Max skirted by, the man hooked Max’s leg and sent him crashing to the ground. Then raising the staff high, he brought it down hard on Max’s head.

  And Max went still.

  Ariel uttered a scream only she could hear. The man started for her, foul grin on his lips, and she moaned, sinking to the floor again.

  After a gut-full of wormholes and butterflies, lies and deceits and fizzled moon shots, her world was now completely destroyed. Whatever upheaval this Tsunami brought, she prayed it would come in time to spare her a final humiliation.

  And feeling faint, she closed her eyes.

  Chapter 129

  Somewhere in Time…

  Ariel woke on her back to muffled voices and harsh light. Squinting, she raised a hand to shield her eyes, and her arm ached. She felt weak, disoriented, addled.

  “Kill the spots,” a woman’s voice said.

  A familiar voice, in a strange way. Yet no voice Ariel could identify.

  The light dimmed, still bright, her eyes slow to adjust. She was still inside the tent on the floor, she could see. Broken equipment and personal items lay scattered about.

  She rose to her elbows, pain sharpening her senses, and her mind turned to her friends. The storm and Tsunami had passed, sun glaring. And then Ariel realized—not sunlight.

  Artificial illumination.

  Pushing to her knees, she crawled to the door, confused to see the lawn end at the arc of the Trapping Horizon. Beyond was polished white tile, and ten feet further, dozens of people in white lab coats, staring at her. Behind them was a large array of sophisticated equipment—computers, electronics, floodlights, cameras.