Dark Ages: 2020 (Dark Ages Series Book 1)

by JD Dutra

  “Of course I was. I must confess I’ve kept in touch with some of my old friends in the government, a couple of years back one of them told me you’d been recruited by the CIA.”

  Nathan looked away for a moment.

  “Well… let’s say it didn’t work out. My last assignment was less than a week ago.”

  “Oh… Really?” His uncle said, surprised. “I’m very interested to know what you know. By the look on your face, that should be quite a bit. There will be a lot of people trying to take control of our country over the next few years, myself and the people you see here, and many others throughout the state will do what we can to make sure America is free, like it was born to be.”

  “The Greene blood still runs thick in your veins, eh?”

  “Does it run thick in yours, Nathan? Can I and the true Patriots of this country count on you to help return this country back to the foundation of the Constitution?”

  “Uncle, I’m no longer with the government. After all that I’ve seen and done on their behalf, I am not sure I want to.”

  “Serving your country has nothing to do with serving your government. You did swear to defend this country against all enemies, foreign and domestic once. Are you still committed to that oath?”

  “I’m not sure I want to protect who is in charge right now. There are things I need to tell you, things I need to show you, then I think you’ll understand.”

  “Nathan, I said protect this country against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. Don’t turn your back on your country or your heritage now, when it needs you the most. From Nathanniel Greene in the Revolutionary War down to you Nathan, what a beautiful story our family has. Another revolutionary war is starting right now and we are at its very beginning. Most men in our family have sacrificed themselves to keep this country free, well now it’s our turn. Don’t turn your back on all of this, not now.”

  Nathan sighed and gazed into nothingness in the far distance.

  I wonder what uncle Joe would say if he knew the details of my assignments in the Clandestine Division of the CIA… especially the last one.

  “Don’t you want to avenge the death of your family? This virus, this pandemic, is nothing short of a mass murder, Nathan.”

  Nathan’s breathing froze for a moment, his jaw clenched in anger. Uncle Joe knew this would get to him.

  “I can tell you who did this to your family Nathan, to all of us. I can tell you why they did it, show you proof. These people are just 200 miles north of here.

  “In the Cheyenne Mountain Complex?”

  “Yes. Don’t you want to make them pay for what they did to your daughters, your wife? Are you going to let them get away with it all after treating you, your family and most of your countrymen like this? Like we are some kind of pest that needed to be exterminated?”

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Uncle Joe…”

  “Then stop fighting it! Avenge the murder of your family and the murder of hundreds of millions of Americans. This is our chance to start this country over again, don’t you see that? Help me and these Patriots, and all the others I know of, return America to its rightful place in the world, like it was meant to be since 1776. A beacon of liberty and opportunity for the entire world, for those who believe in her.”

  Nathan began to nod, his eyes wet with tears. He had finally understood he couldn’t run away from his fate. He had to face it, deal with it, and then conquer it - once and for all.

  “Alright then, Uncle Joe. Let’s get to work. I’m in.”

  Chapter 49

  Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado

  Friday, November 13th, 2020

  8:31 A.M.

  The doctor entered the state of the art recovery room and went immediately to the sink. He turned on the water which ran hot and steady onto the metal sink, the sound blending with the noise of various sets of medical equipment hooked up to his patient. He began to scrub his hands and looked at the man on the bed, but couldn’t see much of him, his nurse was blocking the view. She was heavyset and eagerly doing her job, keeping the subject comfortable and monitored.

  “Hello, Nurse Carrie, how is our patient this morning? The Doctor said with his light Indian accent as he stepped up beside her.

  “Hi, Dr. Singh. He is doing very well.”

  “That’s good to hear. How is his temperature?”

  “That fever is down, he is exactly at 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit like he is supposed to be.”

  “Wonderful!”

  “Yes, and I just cleaned and changed him, he is passing the semi solid foods very well, just like he did with the liquid diet.”

  “That’s great, very good news considering the damage to his intestines and stomach. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “I know, it’s a miracle he’s still alive for sure.”

  “When God wants it, it happens,” said the Dr. Singh, tipping his head and purple turban back to look up for a moment, then back at his patient.

  “Yes, I agree, and after what I saw, God did want it… bad.” Nurse Carrie said, smiling.

  Dr. Singh put on his gloves and stepped closer to his patient, feeling a great sense of deja Vu. He smiled at his co-worker, then reached down to his resting patient and lifted up his gown.

  “Look at that… what do you think?”

  Nurse Carrie adjusted the dark glasses on her head. “Yeah I saw them. I gotta say, you are good Dr. Singh. Those scars on his stomach will be barely noticeable once he’s fully healed.”

  “You know, back in med school my professors saw that stitch work and begged me to go into plastic surgery. I am glad they did.”

  “Well, you do have a gift Doctor, you’re very talented. That’s some of the best work I’ve ever seen.”

  Dr. Singh laughed. “I can’t give you pay raises, you can stop it now.”

  “Oh don’t tell me you don’t like to hear it. You love to show off, and you know it!”

  “No I don’t,” said the doctor with a mischievous grin.

  Nurse Carrie laughed and said, “By the way Dr. Singh, when are we going to be waking him up?”

  “Well… Not for a while.” Said the doctor after bending over his patient to run a pen light over his eyes and check for dilation. “Probably a week or so after the next surgery.”

  “Oh, which one is that?”

  “It will be a total penectomy with perineal urethrostomy and a full orchiectomy.”

  Upon hearing the procedure, Nurse Carrie froze in place for a moment, then raised her eyebrows in surprise and shook her head slowly from one side to another.

  “What’s the matter Nurse Carrie?

  “You could’ve just said clinical emasculation… Show off!”

  Epilogue

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Friday, November 13th, 2020

  9:43 A.M.

  Bob had seen the man who was now knocking on his door walk down his street. He’d first noticed him when he was two blocks away. He was alone, didn’t carry any weapons that he could see and walked on the fresh thick blanket of snow with care. The man was dressed in some kind of uniform, it was purple and snow proof, maybe he belonged to some type of government organization. His neighborhood was deserted and it had been weeks since Bob saw anyone other than his wife alive. Today, she looked like she wouldn’t last until the night.

  The man continued to knock, but Bob was too distracted by his comfortable living room. His children’s toys were scattered exactly as they left them, their pictures smiled at him, all of them beautiful with dark red hair and fair skin just like their mother. The dream of trying for a fifth child that perhaps had his sandy hair and light olive complexion was shattered. The man continued to knock, and when Bob didn’t answer, he spoke.

  “Open the door neighbor, I’m a messenger. I bring good news to you and your family. I know you can hear me.”

  The man sounded like he was 20 years or so older than Bob, somewhere between 50 and 60. There was a confidence and empathy
in his voice that caught Bob’s attention immediately.

  “I have no food or water to spare,” shouted Bob. “If you want anything try your luck at one of the empty houses.” He had his shotgun ready, pointing at the door with a slug shell in its chamber.

  “I’m not here to get help from you, I don’t need it. I’m here to help you.”

  “And what do you think I need help with? Your voice doesn’t sound familiar, I don’t think we know each other.”

  “I serve someone who knows you very well, Bob. Haven’t you been praying to God, for him to send someone to help your wife? Her name is Lauren isn’t it?”

  Bob stood silently for a moment, then added, “How do you know our names or about my wife?”

  “God listens to your prayers,” the man said in a calm voice. “I’m here with his answer.”

  Bob held his breath for a moment, taken back by his words. The older man on the other side of the front door sounded determined, full of mercy and compassion for his situation. Bob almost wished it were all true.

  “We’re wasting time, Bob. Please. God sent help, but it’s up to you to accept it.”

  Bob searched in his heart for answers, a feeling, some type of confirmation that this man could maybe be telling the truth, but he felt nothing. He didn’t know if it were his little faith or if this man belonged in a mental institution and he was listening this so called messenger because he needed hope. Bob thought of his wife and when he opened his mouth all he could say was, “I… I don’t know what to tell you.”

  He couldn’t lose Lauren, not after watching every single one of his four young children die. Lauren wore her gas mask religiously as soon as the rumors started, but when they ran out of filters and she began to reuse the same ones over and over again, he knew there was a chance she’d get infected. He wondered why God let his wife and children get sick, while he remained strong as a bull.

  “My wife… She caught the virus two days ago. I… We… What could you possibly do for us?”

  “I can do nothing, but the God I serve can. Rejoice young man, for there is a living God and he has come back as he predicted. I hold the cure that can save your Lauren. Open the door and I’ll give it to you.”

  “I’ve never heard of any cure for this, and if your God is so powerful, why did he allow this to happen in the first place?”

  “God works in mysterious ways, Bob. I need to move on to help others, but I’m leaving a small vial on your doorstep. It has water that has been blessed by our God himself. It’s odorless and tasteless, but it will cure your wife. If you are a man of faith, let God help you, and when you see your wife healed, come into the city and rejoice with us. He lives, Bob! I’ve seen him with my own eyes.”

  Bob remained silent. He was never religious until his first child got ill and he thought maybe this man was a lunatic. He had never heard someone who was crazy talk like this before, there was a presence about him, an authority to his way of speaking. It wasn’t so much the words he said but how he said them. There was absolutely no doubt in the man’s voice that his wife would be cured and that he served a living god.

  In that moment of hesitation, Bob heard the man stepping out of his porch and down his front lawn. He pulled the curtains back just a little, and saw the old man walk down the middle of the road and he didn’t look back. There was no weapon on his back or in his hands, just a backpack which he held to his side with the utmost care.

  Bob waited in silence, thinking about what had just happened. His wife wasn’t coughing anymore and he wondered if she was already dead. He made sure there was no one coming or going on his street and that the old man who called himself a messenger was far enough away from his home. He opened the door, and there it was, a small vial of clear liquid set on the threshold of his front door. It was about an inch tall and a half an inch wide with a black plastic twist cap.

  Bob grabbed it, shut the door then locked it quickly. He opened the vial, and brought it to his nose. It didn’t smell like anything. He poured just a drop on his finger, licked it, and then tasted it. It was water.

  He went up the stairs to his bedroom, every step bringing him closer to the short wheezing sounds of his wife’s breathing. Her smell was unmistakable, the final stretch of the effects of the virus were taking over his high school sweetheart. Lauren had never looked nor sounded worse than just now.

  He stepped into the bedroom and walked closer to her. She laid in bed, under every blanket in the house. She was feverish and sweating more than just hours before, her eyelids were rimmed with yellow pus, just like his children’s the day before they passed away one by one. She was awake, and scared to die.

  “Who was that?” She asked in a hoarse voice.

  “A man… Who called himself a messenger of God.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, she’d always had a lot more faith than he ever did.

  “I’ve been praying, Bob. I don’t want to die, I’m not ready…”

  “I know, Honey, I need you with me. I can’t do this without you.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He gave me this,” said Bob, opening the palm of his hand, showing the vial. His wife only turned her infected eyes towards the object, as if her head was too heavy to move.

  “He said it’s a cure. I opened and smelled it and tasted it too. Its water, but he says it’s holy or something.”

  “Let me have it… Please.”

  Normally Bob would never let his wife ingest something offered by a stranger, let alone one who claimed to be a messenger of any god, but the last few weeks had been anything but normal. He knew what she was going through, he saw his own children go through it and some of his neighbors. Her pain and suffering would only get worse until she passed. There was no hope for her… other maybe than this.

  “Please Bob. I believe, I have faith. It will work… You’ll see.”

  He felt guilty denying her this one last wish. Maybe it would calm her down. Maybe she’d drink it and relax enough so she could pass more peacefully.

  “Alright, Lauren, here, let me help you,” he said while helping her sit up a little. She was shivering but her skin was burning hot. He opened the vial and brought it to her lips, helping her drink it. She forced a smile at him, a sign that everything would be okay. There was light film of blood on her teeth. She closed her eyes and tried to control her own breathing while he laid her back down.

  “Thank you Bob. I’ll be fine, you’ll see. Please have faith. I don’t want to die and leave you alone in this world, pray for me…”

  Bob stayed next to his wife for a few minutes, sitting on a chair next to her bed, pondering her request.

  “Rest Lauren, just try to relax.”

  None of my prayers saved our children, why would they make a difference now?

  He began running his fingers through her dark red hair as if it were the last time he›d get to do it. After some time she fell asleep, her breathing was weak and the fever was still raging inside of her, but at least the fear in her eyes was gone, for now.

  He put aside the feeling of awkwardness from not knowing exactly how to pray and the guilt of only praying when he was in desperate need of something. He wanted to believe, he wanted to have the hope she had. He knelt next to the bed where she rested and began to pray, he owed it to her.

  Tears rolled down his face and he pleaded aloud, “If you spare her, God, I swear I’ll serve you for the rest of my life…”

  He continued pouring his heart out, half speaking, half thinking his words. After a few minutes he felt better, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He didn’t know if it were because he was letting all his emotions flow or if there was something truly divine about the experience.

  “I hope that somewhere, somehow, God will listen to me this time,” he said to himself.

  The God that had blessed Bob heard his prayer and all the others, thanks to his wife’s cell phone which was charging silently on the nightstand next
to their bed.