The Prophet: Resurrection: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  Daniel looked forward.

  “There’s a rock in front of the orb.”

  “There’s a lot of rocks out there,” Daniel said. The man had lost it completely now. Finally breaking in two with Nicki’s death. The ground was covered with gravel, every rock looking the exact same as the rest.

  “Look,” the psychopath said. “Right in front of the orb. It’s like a brick.” He raised his hand and pointed.

  Nicki’s statue wasn’t finished yet, so there was no exact way to tell where it would stand, but Daniel followed the psychopath’s hand and peered across the site.

  “The black one.”

  Daniel saw it, not knowing how he’d missed it. It looked like a piece of the orb had simply fallen off--only it wasn’t a craggy rock. The psychopath was right; it did look like a brick, perfectly shaped, and sitting just in front of the orb.

  “You see it,” the psychopath said.

  “I do,” Daniel answered.

  “I was going to look for it today, but I don’t think it’s for me. I think it’s for you. I think the dream was for you.”

  Daniel stared at the rock, truly not knowing what to believe. It was most definitely there, but it could have been in the same place for months. The psychopath next to him might just be completely insane.

  That’s what you’re going to believe, given everything you’ve seen?

  “Go get it,” the psychopath said, interrupting his ruminations.

  Daniel looked over at him again, and still Carriage didn’t return the stare.

  “I really don’t think anyone is going to stop you, Daniel. And if they do, you’re Daniel Sesam. You could spit in the Pope’s face and nothing would befall you. I’ve been out here every day since they started, and I’ve never seen that rock … Go on.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward the rock.

  He shrugged. What did it really matter? If the psychopath was crazier than usual, he’d walk over and pick up a rock. No harm done.

  He went forward, crossing the tape that said CONSTRUCTION. The gravel crunched beneath his feet and he looked around at the men working. None noticed him, not bothering to look up from their tasks. Large machines moved to his left and right, scaffolds high in the air around the orb.

  Daniel walked to the brick, ignoring the rest of the world. No one said anything to him, and he didn’t bother them either.

  He came upon the black brick and went down to a knee. The sun felt hot above him, and he suddenly felt sweat on his back. His shirt was sticking to him. Daniel looked up at the orb, seeing the scaffolds and men walking across them. No one was going to stop him.

  He looked back at the brick. It hadn’t broken off the orb, Daniel was sure of that. He thought it was the same material, but the texture was too different. The brick was rough, while the orb was seal skin smooth.

  Daniel reached forward and picked it up, no longer hesitating. His daughter was dead and his life destroyed; what the hell was he doing out here wondering about a brick?

  He’d barely picked it up off the ground when he saw her.

  Nicki.

  In his head or in reality, he couldn’t tell. The image was too powerful, replacing everything else. He was staring at her face, and she was smiling back at him.

  Blonde hair cupping her angular face, as beautiful as she’d ever been.

  She said nothing. Only smiled.

  Warmth spread over Daniel--not the heat from the sun, but an emotional warmth. What one feels when embracing a loved one they haven’t seen in a long, long time.

  What Daniel felt, holding that brick, was love.

  He looked on his daughter and in his heart, he felt love.

  Daniel dropped it and Nicki’s face disappeared. The warmth left. He found himself staring down at the ground, gray gravel surrounding the black rock he’d held moments before. His breathing was normal. His heart rate the same.

  He looked back to the psychopath; the man was still staring at him. Daniel turned to the brick once more and placed his hand on it.

  Nicki.

  It was all he saw, and immediately he felt that same warmth. That same love. Both from her and for her, something impossible to truly describe--but there all the same.

  He pulled his hand back, his eyes wet.

  “COME HERE!” he shouted to the psychopath.

  The man hustled over.

  “Touch it. Put your hand on it and touch it.”

  The psychopath knelt next to him, saying nothing. He placed his hand on the brick while Daniel stared at him.

  “Do you feel it? Do you see her?”

  The psychopath looked right back at him, his face showing none of the wonder that it should.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Daniel stared at him for what felt like an hour, saying nothing. Perhaps only 30 seconds passed, but in Daniel’s head, it felt like so much longer. The thin man looked back, his eyes calm.

  “Did you put this here? Did you or the Pope do something to it? Is this some kind of goddamn prank?”

  Daniel’s voice was raw with emotion, his eyes full of tears now and blurring the psychopath.

  “I have no contact with the Pope,” the psychopath said. “I certainly didn’t plant this here. They watch me, you know? The Pope may be gracious, but they’re watching me. I couldn’t step out here without them knowing. They probably see me right now.”

  Daniel looked down at the black brick and tried to blink away his tears. One fell out on his face.

  “You put this here. You had to,” he whispered.

  “I didn’t. I had a dream, and when I woke up, you were both here.”

  “Who? Who did it?”

  Daniel looked up, his eyes feverish with need. What he’d felt wasn’t possible. Seeing his daughter that clearly. Feeling that love. None of it could happen.

  The psychopath took his hand off the brick and shrugged.

  “What happens when you touch it?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I … I see her. I see Nicki. And, it’s more than that. I feel her. I feel like she’s with me and my heart is full.”

  Another tear dripped onto his face.

  “Touch it again,” the psychopath said.

  Daniel reached forward, not really wanting to put his hands on it; he didn’t want to touch it and nothing happen.

  His finger touched the black rock and Nicki’s face, smiling and full of joy, filled him. Not his mind. Not his vision. Filled him.

  He removed his hand and only Carriage Jackson was in front of him, the sun bright on his pale skin.

  “I think God put it here,” the psychopath said. “I think it’s His way of saying thank you, for what you gave to the world.”

  When Daniel Sesam left the Vatican, he took the brick with him. For as long as he lived, he was able to touch it and see his daughter, filled with that same awesome love.

  He never told another soul of the black brick, and he never quite believed what Jackson Carriage said to him. Yet, he never quite disbelieved it either.

  And for Daniel Sesam, that was faith enough.

  On Purpose and Other Things

  Thanks for reading, and I mean that wholeheartedly. I love telling stories and without you, that wouldn’t be possible.

  I know at the end of books, a lot of writers offer you something free if you sign-up for their mailing list. What they’re doing, essentially, is buying your email address.

  I don’t want to do that.

  I think having a purpose in life is important. It adds clarity and meaning to what you do. I’m lucky to know mine and that purpose dictates my life: I’m here to tell stories. Nothing else even comes close to the happiness this job gives me.

  With that said, if you like reading my novels and want to know when the next book comes out, sign-up below. No tricks. No buying your address. Just me telling stories and you enjoying them.

  The way these relationships should work.

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&nbs
p; Also by David Beers

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