by Bill Myers
When the Cartel had first approached them about staying at the compound, Katherine had insisted she have access to a computer and the Internet. She’d also insisted upon being able to read all files on any DNA research their main lab in Belgium was conducting. After all, it was the Cartel’s genetic engineers that had gotten Eric into this mess in the first place. It was only fair she be allowed to check on their progress as they tried to get him out.
She scrolled down to the genetic file named “Antisense.” This was the area of most importance to Eric. By inverting specific segments of any genetic code, molecular biologists are able to create characteristics 180 degrees opposite of the original piece of DNA. As best as anyone could figure, that’s what had happened to Eric with the genetic code they had replicated from what they believed to be Christ’s blood. At first, Eric had exhibited strong, Christlike characteristics — mercy, compassion, a knowing beyond what his five senses could detect, even the performing of some miracles. But the process had eventually reversed itself. And instead of creating a loving, self-sacrificing savior of the world, the Cartel’s scientists had created a —
Katherine refused to think the thought. Whatever Eric’s problem, it was only temporary. They’d find a way to reverse the process. They’d find a cure. She just hoped it would be soon.
Up on the screen she noticed there had been only one new report filed since the last time she checked — a minor breakthrough in cancer research utilizing antisense to replace deactivated tumor suppressor genes. Not exactly what she was looking for.
Katherine sighed and prepared to shut down the computer. She glanced down at the screen’s clock. Dinner was in less than an hour. She turned to look outside. The late spring blizzard continued to rage. And, over there, across the room in his bed, Eric was enjoying a peaceful afternoon nap. She decided to stay.
Turning back to the computer, she scrolled through some of the other genetic research files. Earlier, when she and Eric had first arrived, she’d tried reading everything she could find on the subject. But it was overwhelming; the Cartel was involved in far too many aspects of research on the topic. Eventually she had learned to focus only on the areas that applied to Eric.
As she continued to scroll, the file labeled “Scorpion” caught her eye. That was the street name for the virus that had been attacking the world’s Semite population. For the most part other races were immune to it, but there was something about the DNA makeup of Jews and Arabs that made them vulnerable to the virus’s fury. A fury that attacked internal organs, eating them up and turning them to jelly. A fury that, like its cousin Ebola and other Class 5 viruses, seemed to come from the very pit of hell.
The disease got its name from its scorpion-like tail that could be seen under an electron microscope. No one was sure where it came from or how to stop its spread, and every continent was reeling under its impact. Latest death tolls were pushing two million. Of course all of the top labs and humanitarian organizations in the world were focused upon the problem, and the Cartel was no different, utilizing a sizable portion of its influence and funding. But, so far, success had been elusive.
With nothing else to do, Katherine opened the Scorpion file and scanned down its subfiles. She’d been here once or twice before but had never gone all the way through. She doubted she would this time. She did, however, come upon the names of the four cities. Cairo, Mecca, New York, and Tel Aviv. These were the first four cities to report the outbreak of the plague.
She scrolled to the Cairo file and double clicked it. Immediately the screen read: “Access denied.”
Thinking it odd, she tried again. Again the screen read: “Access denied.”
She went over to Mecca and double clicked it.
“Access denied.”
The same was true with New York and Tel Aviv.
“Access denied.”
“Access denied.”
The fact that she’d been closed out didn’t bother her. Except for the genetic information, that was the case with most all of the Cartel’s files. And who could blame them? With all of their high-powered meetings and maneuverings, they didn’t need her browsing through any ultrasensitive information. Of course that made little difference to Katherine. She seldom if ever found a program she couldn’t hack her way into.
No, it didn’t bother her that she was blocked out. But it did intrigue her. After all, the agreement was that she could have access to all files on genetic research. So what was up? Of course there would be some secrecy in the search for Scorpion’s cure. Whoever found it would definitely have the world’s undying gratitude, a position particularly helpful to the Cartel in their efforts to court world favor.
But why did each of these cities have its own file? And why were they the only ones to which she was denied access?
Katherine glanced at the time. She still had forty minutes to kill before dinner. So, with a shrug, she started to type. Nothing helped pass the time like a good old-fashioned hacking.
“It will be the ecumenical event of the century.” Tanya Chase, the anchor for GBN News, was already on her feet. “Think of it … Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Moslems, Hindus, people of every faith coming together before God. And it won’t be just at the L.A. Forum. With the satellite feed and local downlinks, we could be reaching every home in the United States and Canada! Not to mention a handful of stations in England, Australia, and New Zealand.”
Sarah couldn’t help nodding. It was difficult not to get caught up in this petite woman’s excitement as she paced back and forth in the clinic’s cramped office. She was a lot smaller in person than on TV, but her face was just as tan, her features just as chiseled, and her honey blonde hair (probably not natural) was just as striking. She was dressed to be taken seriously and had a perfect knockout figure (which probably wasn’t natural, either). On TV her energy reminded Sarah of someone who’d had a few too many cups of Starbucks, and in person it was no different. Her presence filled the room.
“Let’s face it …” She finally came to a stop across the table from Brandon. Leaning toward him, she utilized her scooped neck sweater to its fullest advantage. “Something’s going on here. The wars, the famine, this new disease. I mean, people are claiming it’s the end of the world, and maybe they’re right.”
“Maybe they are.” Brandon kept his eyes leveled at hers, refusing to let them lower. A fact quietly appreciated by Sarah.
“Maybe they are,” Tanya repeated. She rose and resumed her pacing. “And if that’s the case, then it’s time somebody helped us put aside our petty differences. It’s time somebody brought us all together with one voice and one accord into the presence of God.”
“And you think Jimmy Tyler’s the man.”
Again she stopped and locked eyes with Brandon. “I know he is.”
Sarah watched for Brandon’s reaction. Ever since their wedding night, tension had been growing between them. Gerty’s e-mail had driven an indefinable wedge between them. They still loved each other, she was sure of that. Probably now more than ever. And the self-control they exhibited did nothing but increase their respect for one another. But every day, Sarah found herself growing more and more resentful. At whom, she wasn’t sure. Most likely at God, which did little to help with her feelings of guilt and unworthiness. But she was also resentful toward Brandon. More specifically, she was resentful at his response toward God.
Yes, he was frustrated, she saw that daily. And there were times he could not hide his anger. But, for the most part, he seemed to be taking their command for abstinence as a type of challenge, rising to the occasion and using it to focus more intently upon his work. It was probably just a defense mechanism — she couldn’t be sure. The only thing she could be sure of was that as she grew more and more resentful and guilt-ridden, he seemed to grow more and more dedicated … which made her even more resentful and guilt-ridden … and on and on the cycle went, like a whirlpool, pulling their relationship down lower and lower.
Sarah turned her att
ention back to the meeting and addressed Tanya. “Why does Reverend Tyler want Brandon and me to share the platform?”
“Actually, just one of you. Probably Brandon, here, since he’s the miracle boy.”
Sarah nodded.
“There will be dozens of other ministries represented, so room doesn’t permit —”
“No, I understand,” Sarah said, barely aware she was tugging her hair over her scar.
“You really think our presence is going to be helpful?” Brandon asked.
“What, are you joking? You guys are getting yourself quite the little following.”
“You wouldn’t know it by looking at our books.” Sarah meant it as a joke, but it came off more weary than clever.
Tanya turned to her. “That’s because you don’t know how to market yourselves.”
Sarah’s eyes shot to Brandon. It sounded like someone had overheard their arguments.
He cleared his throat and answered, “Listen, when it comes to finances, I know we’re not being all that conventional, but —”
“I know, I know.” Tanya held up her hands. “I’ve heard it all before. You’re doing the Lord’s work, right?”
“As best as we understand it to —”
“And Jesus never charged for healings, and Jesus never held telethons, and Jesus never took an offering.”
Now it was Brandon’s turn to look at Sarah. The reporter was listening to their arguments.
“But let me tell you something.” Tanya was back at the table. “Jesus never had to spend $90,000 renting an arena. He never had to pay for TV equipment or deal with unions. And he sure never had to buy satellite time.”
Sarah felt a twinge of justification. It was good to hear someone else use her reasonings for a change.
“And what exactly would Jimmy Tyler get out of the deal?” Brandon asked.
Sarah winced. Didn’t he know how good this could be for them? Couldn’t he let up just a little?
Fortunately, Tanya was unfazed. “Reverend Tyler will be getting no more than you … national exposure and the opportunity to bring hope and comfort to a world torn at the seams, to a world that desperately needs to be brought together in a spirit of unity.”
“Careful,” he half-teased, “you almost sound like the Cartel.”
“In many ways we’re not that different. Only what they’re striving to do on a political level, we are attempting to do spiritually.”
Brandon turned to Sarah. He was obviously interested in her input.
She responded, doing her best not to sound too enthused. “I don’t know what it would hurt. And, as Ms. Chase has said, we could certainly use the exposure. I mean, think what that type of publicity could do for the clinic.”
Brandon nodded, but he still wasn’t convinced.
Tanya leaned back over the table toward him, a little further than the last time. “So what will it be?” she asked.
He kept his eyes on hers, refusing to be distracted. Sarah almost smiled. The woman had no idea who she was up against. How deeply she respected this man. She respected his strength, yes. And, although it could be exasperating at times, she also respected his commitment.
Finally he answered, “I think Sarah and I need more time to discuss it.”
“Of course, of course.” Tanya pulled back and began gathering her papers. “Take all the time you want. And don’t forget to pray about it. Praying is important, too.”
Brandon nodded.
Tanya dumped her stuff into a leather satchel and closed it before looking up. “But don’t take forever. There are plenty of other ministries that would love to be up on that stage with Jimmy.”
Sarah rose to her feet and extended a hand across the table. “I know that, and please tell him how much we appreciate this opportunity.”
“I certainly will.” Tanya turned back to Brandon, who had also risen to his feet. “And it is just that,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “An opportunity.” She held his gaze, making sure he understood. “A very big opportunity … for both of you. And for your ministry. An opportunity that you would do well not to miss.”
“Brandon, why are you being so unreasonable?”
“I’m not unreasonable.”
“It’s a terrific offer and you’re just throwing it away. If that’s not unreasonable, then maybe I need someone to explain to me —”
“I don’t like the man, Sarah. It’s as simple as that.”
“No one says you have to like him.”
“He’s a huckster. You’ve seen him on TV. He’s a manipulator. Besides, he’s got a lousy toupee.”
A week ago the humor would have lightened the mood, broken the tension. But not this evening. This evening, as they prepared dinner in the apartment, before he headed to his mother’s for the night, they were having another argument. Something Sarah knew was happening more and more often. And if Tyler’s invitation created such a stir, just wait until she brought up the e-mail she’d received from Nepal, the one asking her to help some kid involved with the Cartel.
“The man’s a crook, Sarah.”
“How can you say that? Look how God has used him.”
“God also used Baalam’s jackass.”
Sarah sighed wearily. “Why are you so closed to this? If we work with him, we’d be reaching a good part of the world. Isn’t that what the Scriptures say the two end-time prophets are supposed to do? Reach the world? Well, here’s a flash for you, partner. It sure ain’t happening for us here in Bethel Lake … and it sure ain’t happening with our little podunk clinic.”
She waited at the refrigerator for a comeback, but there was only silence. She turned and saw him staring down at the table. She’d struck a nerve. He’d obviously been struggling with the same thoughts. But he wasn’t about to concede. Oh, no, why should tonight be any different from the others?
“So you’re saying we’ll accomplish all these great things by endorsing the beliefs of the Jews, Moslems, Hindus … or whatever New Age fruitcake has a following big enough for Tyler to pander to?”
“We don’t have to endorse anybody.”
“Being on the stage with them endorses them.”
“We don’t have to endorse their beliefs, Brandon. But we can at least endorse them as people. We can at least acknowledge them as fellow seekers of God.”
“Please …”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gave no answer and she pursued. “Do you think we’re the only ones that God listens to? Are we so arrogant that we think He’s only paying attention to us?” Again no answer. “We’re talking about a God of love here, Brandon, a God of mercy. Half the world is dying — disease, war, starvation — while the other half is so scared they don’t know what to think. There’s a whole lot of pain and confusion out there. And no merciful God is going to turn His back on that. We’re all on equal ground before Him, and He’s not going to let a little tweaked-out theology get in the way.”
He looked up at her. “What did you say?”
She did not answer, realizing she might have stepped over the line.
“Sarah, the Bible says no one comes to the Father but through His Son.”
“I know what the Bible says.”
“Then how can we —”
“And I don’t need you to quote it to me.”
“But if you believe it, if you believe Jesus Christ and if you really love Him, how —”
She spun on him angrily. “Nobody loves Jesus Christ more than I do, Brandon!” Her throat grew tight. Didn’t he know how grateful she was to have her past forgiven? She swallowed. “Nobody … not even you.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and crossed to the sink, hoping he hadn’t noticed. She’d win this argument and she’d win it through logic, not emotion.
When he finally spoke his voice was softer, even a little sad. “I know. I didn’t mean that …” He hesitated, then tried again. “I didn’t …” Another failure. This time accompanied by a heavy sigh.
She remained
with her back to him. She heard his approach, caught his reflection in the window. A moment later his arms were wrapping around her. The tears came faster, and it was all she could do not to yield to him.
When she trusted her voice, she continued. “Everything’s unraveling … Instead of becoming clearer, each day is more confusing than the last. There are times I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” She took a ragged breath, then continued. “But I know this. That TV show is the first indication that we’re on the road to somewhere, that people are actually starting to pay attention to us. And to turn it down now would be one giant step backward.”
There was a pause before he answered. “I know what you’re saying. And believe me, I have plenty of my own doubts. But … it’s just …” He took a breath, then quietly let it go. He tightened his embrace and rested his head on her shoulder. How deeply she loved this man, how he still made her weak and trembly inside. She knew the discussion wasn’t over, but at least for the moment a truce had been declared. She reached down to take his arm, to let him know she was still upset but that it was okay.
And that’s when she saw it. “Brandon?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s this?”
“What?”
“Here, on the inside of your arm. It looks like …” She turned toward him. “Is that a tattoo?”
Brandon looked at it with her. Although the outline was faint, there was no missing a crescent moon and a five-pointed star hovering beside it.
She glanced up at him but he was still staring at it, obviously as surprised as she was. Then she noticed something else. Higher up on his arm. A faint bruise. And another, off to the side.
“Where did you get those?”
She looked back up to him. His eyes were wide with astonishment. He quickly checked the other arm. There was another bruise, a little larger, a little more sickly.
“Brandon?”
He stepped back then quickly peeled off his shirt.
“Bran?”
Now he was examining his chest. There were two more bruises there. And another one, lower on his belly.
“What are they?” she asked.