Shrouded Destiny

by Richard William Bates

  "We're feeling feisty this morning, aren't we?” she said sweetly to the unborn child within her womb.

  "Good morning, Susan,” a voice behind her said, as Steven emerged from the cabin. It was perhaps not accurate to call it a cabin any longer. They had added several rooms to the structure in order to accommodate Susan and the baby once it was born, as well as to give all of them a bit of breathing room and give them the space necessary to set up their command center. They had settled in quite comfortably in the Rockies.

  "Good morning, Steven,” Susan chirped. “Isn't it a gorgeous morning?"

  "Yes, it sure is,” he answered, surveying the valley which dipped off in the near distance. A self-avowed “city boy and proud of it,” as he liked to gloat, he was reluctantly admitting to himself of late that mountain living had much to recommend it.

  They had made many refinements to the cabin over the past months. They had replaced the loud generator with a larger, quieter and more efficient one. They had managed to tap the nearby river with a small hydroelectric power station designed and constructed by Steven and John. They had procured—that was John's euphemism for it—a larger and more efficient satellite dish, and had built the descrambler themselves. John had devised an ingenious transmitter that allowed them to send as well as receive signals off the satellite along with a method of disguising the source of their transmissions. They had even established their own independent telephone system, a link of microwave stations they had erected throughout the valley. Its range was not wide, but it was virtually undetectable, being self-contained.

  Computerization had been a bit more difficult, but they had obtained several computers, and by cannibalizing them, John and Steven had managed to construct a sophisticated system bordering on state of the art. Arnold, Ray, and Harold had acquired more computer knowledge than they ever wanted to. Ray especially had become quite proficient, even developing the necessary skills to write a few simple programs, which he would show proudly to John and Steven, who were genuinely impressed with his instincts for the art. John often teased Ray about how he was becoming a computer “dweeb.” Ray took the jibing good-naturedly. What else was there to do out here in the mountains, especially during the winter months?

  John had established several internet uplinks and developed a means to download a great deal of data before Mathias virtually shut down the internet. Every now and then, he would discover a “back door” to a system that was still up and running via the satellite link and add it to their database. But such windows were becoming more difficult to find as the long arm of the Coalition extended outward, shutting down the systems.

  In addition to Ray's Toyota, which had taken quite a beating on its journey to Colorado, they had established a small fleet of pickup trucks, vans, and even a small bus. These were kept a short distance from the cabin beneath a camouflage canopy within the trees. They had draped a similar canopy over the hydroelectric station and the cabin. These precautions had been Arnold's idea, whose military training was proving invaluable. From the air, the encampment was virtually undetectable, both by satellite and even by a low-flying plane.

  Their biggest problem was fuel. They had collected as much as they could by scavenging the isolated towns and villages they encountered. Arnold and Harold would take trips traveling several days at a time to gather fuel. No matter how much they had, they never felt it was enough. Harold often mused that if they ever needed to establish a currency, fuel would be the hard asset that would back it. Its value skyrocketed as its scarcity grew.

  Finally, there was the arsenal. Over Susan's protests, they had gathered all the rifles, handguns, shotguns and ammunition they could find. One particularly fruitful discovery had been a cache of arms stored by a private paramilitary militia organization. For reasons they never learned, the group had abandoned their encampment, leaving an amazing amount of munitions behind, including automatic weapons, anti-tank rocket launchers, grenades, and assorted explosives. It had taken them weeks to transport it all to their location because it was so far and they had few vehicles. They stored it all in an underground arsenal that they had dug.

  Susan eventually was persuaded as to the necessity of the arsenal. As Arnold had explained to her, the war against the anti-Christ would occur on both the spiritual and the earthly plane. Sooner or later, it would become necessary to fight. Susan didn't like it, but she could not deny the logic. Secretly, she hoped such a war would never be necessary and vowed one would not be, if she had anything to say about it.

  Over all of this, Angelino and the other Knights had assisted by placing a psychic barrier over the entire compound. This barrier had shielded them from detection by the anti-Christ.

  The Knights visited quite often, sometimes individually, other times in small groups, and occasionally all of them together.

  All in all, they had built an almost idyllic existence for themselves deep in the Colorado mountains. The devastation of the past seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it had been.

  * * * *

  STEVEN WATCHED SUSAN as she stared off into the distance. She often did that, he noted. What thoughts filled her mind at times like this? he wondered. She was such an enigma. So cheerful and full of life, especially since she had become pregnant. Yet a part of her, he realized, would never be known to them ... might even not be knowable. She grew more beautiful and radiant every day. How many hearts had she broken in her time? Steven figured the number must have been considerable.

  Harold joined them from inside the cabin. “Good morning,” he greeted them. “Ah, just smell that air."

  "Good morning, Harold,” Steven said. “Is John up yet?"

  "Nope. He and Arnold are still sawing logs back there. Ray's still out, too. I thought I'd come out here so I wouldn't disturb them."

  They stood quietly for a few moments.

  "Anything on the dish this morning, Steven?"

  "Nothing eventful. That sycophant Armand Mathias was on World at Dawn carrying on about his wonderful new Bureau of Political Standards,” he sighed. “I remember when we used to grow our demagogues with a little more style. The way he is carrying on, you'd think he invented censorship. The news had a glowing report about the reconstruction projects in the inner cities. The army seems to be rebuilding without a hitch. The strike by the farmers in Indiana has been settled. The Department of Labor reports unemployment is down to eight percent from a high of twelve percent two weeks ago. Inflation is holding at seven percent. Same old shit."

  Harold shook his head. “People disappoint me sometimes. They can't see their freedoms are being stripped away from them right under their noses."

  "Maybe not everybody values freedom as highly as you do, Harold."

  Harold shot Steven a hard look.

  "Don't give me that look, Harold,” he laughed. “I understand how you feel. John's even more of a fanatic about that stuff than you are. What I simply meant was maybe you can't blame people too much for wanting to take care of their own lives. Most people don't have time to think about things. They're too busy scraping together the rent money. These days, they're more concerned with where next week's food is going to come from. Production isn't what it used to be out there, you know."

  "But don't you see, Steven, that's just it. It's all set up that way so they don't notice. It's like the stage magician who waves his left hand while his right hand pulls the card out from his sleeve. It's smoke and mirrors. While they sweat out making the credit card payments on credit which is all too easily given, while they scrape to make the mortgage payment on loans with interest rates attractive enough to make people salivate in their haste to sign on the dotted line, their liberties are taken away slowly, one by one, while they aren't looking.

  "Bah! Ignorant fools!"

  Steven didn't say anything

  "Steven, do you know how a chef cooks a live frog?"

  "Huh?” Steven was baffled by the non sequitur.

  "Do you know how a chef cooks a live frog?” he r
epeated, smiling.

  "Okay, I'll play. How?"

  "Well, if he just drops the frog into a vat of boiling water, the frog can react fast enough to jump out. He'll do that over and over again. So what the chef does is place the frog in a nice comfortable vat of room-temperature water and then slowly starts to raise the temperature, bit by bit. Soon, the water has grown hot enough to dull the frog's senses and eventually hot enough to boil. The frog is then cooked before he realizes what has happened to him."

  "That's all very interesting, Harold, but I don't see what you're driving at."

  "Don't you? Think about it. That's how freedoms are taken away. They aren't taken all at once. People, even the most lethargic of them, won't stand for that. So, they are taken in tiny little increments, until one day they wake up and they are slaves. That's what's been happening to the people around the world. That is how the anti-Christ was able to take over so fast. Jesus is just going to do more of the same but now it's going to be even easier for him. The people think he's the Son of God. If he told them to jump into a flaming volcano, most of them would do it without question."

  Steven got the point. He turned to watch Susan, who had wandered a few dozen yards away in the clearing. She was walking slowly back and forth in a carefree manner, the enigmatic smile that had become a permanent part of her demeanor etched on her face. “What do you suppose she's got on her mind, Harold?” he changed the subject.

  "It's always hard to say with her, I've decided. I'm sure she is not different from any other mother expecting her first child. She certainly seems to be at peace with things. A bit too much so, if you ask me."

  Mother, the child's voice said to Susan in her mind.

  "Yes, my dear?” she answered silently.

  Are you ready?

  "Yes. I am ready."

  God is with you, mother. Remember that. Love is the answer.

  Susan understood. It was time to rock Jesus’ world a little. She was actually looking forward to it.

  Chapter 33

  THE INNER COUNCIL of the World Coalition Government met regularly in a large boardroom in the UN building. It was made up of the Regional Overlords, President Crowley, Armand Mathias and Jesus. They all sat at a long wooden conference table. A tall pointed flag staff bearing the new World Coalition flag stood majestically in the corner, its white-on-blue emblem adapted from the old United Nations laurel ring with the cross of Jesus superimposed upon it.

  "Let's have your reports, gentleman,” Jesus ordered.

  Gerard de Charny was the first to speak.

  "We have made great progress in Europe. The British still act as if they own the world, but they are cooperating. They paid their tribute on time ... a little early, actually ... and they committed 200,000 troops to the Coalition Army and another 100,000 divided roughly evenly between the Coalition Navy and Air Force. Westminster Abby has almost been entirely torn down and we have several contractors in line to begin constructing the Peoples’ Mart on that site.

  "We've centralized the economy and the Board of Economic Governors has begun the resource distribution project, right on schedule."

  De Charny sat down, clearly pleased with his report.

  Each of the others in turn gave equally glowing reports, which more or less agreed. Everywhere the people were tired, but they were also still filled with hope for the bounty that Jesus was preparing to share with them. For now, they were easily managed, like children not wishing to misbehave as Christmas approached lest they not get the presents they have wished for. That would be sufficient until more stringent means were required.

  Warrenger's report was of particular interest to Jesus. The anti-Christ had closely monitored the activities of the jewel in his crown, America, but it was important the others be briefed as well. Yes, there was a new world order, but the anti-Christ was aware some conditioning wasn't going to go away despite the uprooting of the status quo. Whether they hated it or loved it, America was still the place the rest of the world looked to for a barometer of policy. Whatever America did had always been closely scrutinized, and that habit lingered. The implementation of the New Order in America would ensure its rapid spread throughout the rest of the world.

  Warrenger stood and spoke without notes. “We have faced some unique challenges here in America,” he began. “The most troubling was an initial problem with bands of armed resistors. That was not unanticipated. We have been able to eliminate them with quiet efficiency and their members have been dealt with quickly and without mercy. They have felt the sting of Coalition justice. This policy has stifled all further resistance.

  "Meanwhile, our economic redevelopment is proceeding better than we anticipated. We have nationalized the airlines, the auto industry, the brokerage houses, and of course, agriculture. Our efforts to confiscate all privately owned weapons is ongoing. We are meeting little resistance, especially now we have eliminated most of the self-styled paramilitary militia organizations. Most people have been all too willing to get their weapons out of sight, after all the bloodletting, or bloodshed they witnessed. We run across the occasional “Second Amendment” crackpot, but they usually come around after a while, once they realize their fellow citizens aren't about to rush to their cause. They really get quite meek and humble when they end up standing alone. They often forget that they no longer have their old Constitution any more. The few who think they will make a point by taking a hard stand ... well, we are more than glad to assist them in their martyrdom.” Warrenger smiled sardonically.

  "We are going to have a national day of celebration of the liberation from decadence in about a month ... we are targeting August 21st. The people need a festival in order to blow off some steam harmlessly. We intend to give them all the celebration they can handle. The American division of the Coalition Army is shaping up nicely. We are drawing a lot of recruits, so much so we are three months ahead of our quota schedule.

  "Armand Mathias has been doing a superb job with his new Bureau of Political Standards and his Children's Education Initiative. I'm going to let him tell you about his progress."

  Mathias stood with more flourish than the occasion called for. Try as he might to disguise it, he was not very good at keeping hidden his delight about his position of power. He fiddled with a stack of papers for a few moments before finally speaking. “We have laid the groundwork for our educational program, which will go into effect over the next six months. We will be instituting a standardized program of political education which will set the record straight historically. The lies of the capitalists will be rendered to the trash heap of history, where they belong. The children will be taught the truth of collective economies.

  "The Bureau of Political Standards is slowly granting broadcast rights to the television and radio stations who have agreed to abide by the standards, which are outlined in the folders you each have in front of you. We are also slowly granting newspapers the right to publish once again, as they are agreeing to pay the licensing fees and abide by the guidelines we have established. Some of them balked at first. Peter Arlington at NBS gave us some shit, but he saw the light when we told him he could sign or shut down. We're going to have to keep a close eye on him. I'd recommend shutting him down, but we have more to gain by using them than by doing so."

  Jesus nodded his agreement.

  "We have also outlined some long-range plans, which are also in your folders. The one I'm most excited about is the children's summer camps which will combine political truth with worship of you, My Lord. We would like to have those operating on a full schedule in two years. There are a few other ideas I've outlined, but they are still in their formative stages, so I think I'll just let you look them over at your leisure. I welcome any input you might be willing to offer."

  Mathias sat down and Jesus rose to speak. “You have all done a splendid job under difficult circumstances. I want to remind you all, it is critical we maintain the Jesus image. The people must be made to feel they are safe and in good hands. If we are
to build this Golden Age, we must have the people on our side. Nothing will shut down those who oppose us faster than the pressure of their peers. With Angelino and the Knights out of the way, and with the remaining vestiges of resistance being hunted down and eliminated, we face no significant resistance to our plans."

  "Are you sure about that?” Susan materialized in front of the long conference table at which they were all seated. The Council and Mathias reacted with surprise. Jesus, however, merely smiled.

  "Why, Susan Morgan. How nice of you to drop by. I had thought perhaps you had been killed during the chaos.” His face smiled, but his eyes did not.

  "Oh, I'm made of much sterner stuff than that. You should know that as much as anyone."

  Jesus noticed the bulge beneath the long white robe she was wearing. His eyes moved from her face, down to her stomach, and back up to her face again. Susan thought she detected ... was it uncertainty...? ... Fear?

  Mother, he is frightened, the little voice said in her head. Susan just smiled.

  "Yes, Jesus. A child grows within me,” she said proudly.

  "Might we know who the father is?” Mathias sneered at her. Jesus shot him a hard glance to tell him to stay out of it.

  "I don't think you would know him, Armand.” Susan's eyes twinkled playfully.

  Jesus continued to stare at Susan, his mind attempting to process what he dared not believe.

  He knows, mother.

  Yes.

  Do not be afraid, Mother.

  I'm not, my precious.

  "You think you have won, Jesus, but the seeds of your defeat have already been planted. I am here to ask you to go quietly ... while you still can."