Recoil

by David Sherman

  “Where’s the basement?” the crew chief asked.

  “Doesn’t have one!” a security officer shouted. “Find the johns! Take cover in the bathrooms!” He ran to the back of the house and everyone else followed him. They all piled into a rather small bathroom. The next few seconds were pure terror as the twister roared over the house, ripping it to pieces and passing on as quickly as it had struck.

  Huygens Long couldn’t believe he was still alive. “Is everybody all right?” he asked, brushing plaster fragments out of his hair. He could see someone’s legs under the sink; someone beneath what looked like a door groaned. Jeroboam was sitting up in the bathtub, looking around in amazement at the wreckage.

  The hopper pilot, about thirty with pretty blond hair that hung in bedraggled strands about her face, sat up painfully. She looked back the way they had come and groaned. The entire house was gone. She could look straight into the garden. She gasped. “My hopper! It’s gone!” She turned to Long. “You owe me a new hopper!” Something had hit her just above her right eye and a long stream of blood dripped down her face and jaw. Her right eye was closed. She glared at Long fiercely with a big, bright, blue left eye.

  “Madam,” Long sighed, “I’ll get you a new hopper. You can have all the bells and whistles on it you want. But after what you’ve been through for us today, anytime you like you call Huygens Long, give him five minutes to gather a crowd, and he’ll gladly kiss your beautiful little derriere.”

  She seemed to consider that proposal for a moment and then said, “That’s okay, sir; after what you’ve put me through today, I’ll settle for that fucking kite instead.”

  Long nodded and said, “Well, people, I guess we’ll just have to go after our man tomorrow.”

  Senator Maxim’s Penthouse Apartment, Fargo

  Jimmy’s meeting with the twelve disciples—twelve believers, twelve powerful and influential men that Senator Maxim had arranged—was to take place in his penthouse apartment in down-town Fargo. Aside from the villa on the outskirts of town, which he’d given over to Jimmy, the senator owned several other properties in and around the capital. But the fashionable penthouse atop the Dirlik Building, named in honor of the famous Wiccan priestess and philanthropist, was where he lived when Congress was in session. It had all the modern conveniences. From its position atop the ninety-story complex, one had a spectacular view that on a clear day stretched over a hundred kilometers in every direction.

  To beat the incoming storm, Jimmy and Sally had arrived early at the apartment. Senator Maxim’s long white mane glistened in the bright lighting and contrasted brilliantly with the darkness that had fallen outside. Tremendous flashes of lightning lanced the horizon and the wind outside had risen to gale force. But inside the penthouse, the storm outside was hardly noticeable.

  “I’m going down to the lobby, Reverend,” the senator said after making his guests comfortable, “to escort our visitors up here. We’ll meet in the party room. Can my servants get you refreshments?”

  “Thank you, my son. Natural springwater, if you’ve got it.” Jimmy smiled. Sally, sitting by his side, grimaced inwardly. She could still taste the excellent coffee the attorney general had given her that morning.

  “Then, Reverend, Miss Consolador, I shall leave you now, but for just a few moments. I expect the storm will have delayed some of our guests. I hope that will not inconvenience you?”

  “Why should it when eternity lies before us, Senator? Besides, the heavens are God’s handiwork, a testimony to mankind, Senator, that He is all-powerful. We shall enjoy the display with reverence until thy return.”

  Sally and Jimmy sat together silently after the senator departed, sipping springwater. “What,” Sally ventured at last, “is this meeting all about tonight, master?”

  “Tonight, my child, I shall reveal to these men, these believers, my true mission to humankind, that I bring unto humanity the Truth and the Way to eternal salvation through faith in Me. The Lord has sent me once again to—”

  Sally screamed and jumped to her feet. Her water glass flew from her hands and bounced off the carpet. “I can see them!” she screamed. In her mind she did see them, the Skinks, their sharp little teeth gleaming, strange instruments in their stubby fingers. They were gathered around her. She was prostrate, restrained somehow, unable to move. Pain flashed through every fiber of her body. She tried to scream but no sound would come from her throat. The vision passed as quickly as it had come upon her. She stood in the center of the room, panting, her face covered in perspiration.

  “Child, come unto Me,” Jimmy said gently, holding out a hand. “I will ask My Father to make this terror pass from you and cast the demons into hell. Come, come.” He stood and held out his arms to her.

  “Nooo!” Sally screamed. “No! No! You are a blasphemer, a man, a bad man! Get away from me! They did this to you!” She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms and blood oozed between her fingers.

  Jimmy noticed the blood. “Stigmata, my child,” he said and smiled. “The spirit of the Lord is upon thee! Come unto Me. Come. Come.” He advanced toward her.

  “Goddamn you!” Sally shouted, stepping backward, away from him. “I swear, I’ll scratch your eyes out if you come near me, Jimmy!”

  Jimmy smiled and held out the palms of his own hands toward Sally. “Thou canst do no more unto Me, child, than mankind has already done. See my wounds and kiss them.”

  Sally gasped. Jimmy’s palms were perfectly normal. “You are crazy!” she shouted. Her screams had brought the servants, who stood cringing on the edges of the room.

  At a gesture from Jimmy the servants fled into nearby rooms, fearfully closing the doors behind them. “I am the Messiah,” Jimmy whispered almost reluctantly, as if the role were being forced on him against his will. “Come to Me, child, and I will prove it.”

  “Show me a miracle!” Sally croaked. “If you are the Messiah, show me!”

  Jimmy smiled again and nodded. He stepped closer and fixed Sally with those eyes of his. They stood like this for several moments. Sally was unable to tear away her gaze. Looking into his eyes, Sally thought, Yes, maybe there is something there. She took his hand as if in a dream and he led her across the room. The doors to the patio hissed open. They stood under the Lexan covering. Now the roar of the storm was clearly audible and gusts of rain pelted the roof. It was black outside, the darkness illuminated only by the frequent flashes of lightning.

  “Open!” Jimmy commanded. A window panel slowly hissed open. In fine weather this portal gave one a magnificent, exhilarating view out over the rooftops of Fargo to the northwest. But now, in the raging storm, a powerful gust of wind surged through the opening, drenching and chilling them, splashing rainwater on the flagstone floor and knocking over a light table that stood between them and the storm. Jimmy moved toward the window. He climbed the low parapet that formed the sill and turned to Sally. Wind tore at his clothes and buffeted him, but somehow he kept his balance. “Come up here with me, child, and behold a miracle!”

  One part of Sally’s mind screamed Don’t do it! but she took Jimmy’s hand and stepped up beside him. Jimmy put his arm around her waist and turned them both to face into the storm. Her heart jumped into her mouth. Lightning flashed and crashed all over the city in such an awesome display that despite herself Sally was fascinated by it. Wind ripped at her clothing, and she would have pitched forward but Jimmy, somehow rooted safely to the parapet, kept her from falling. Far, far below through the swirling torrents of rain, the light of Fargo blinked and winked beckoningly. Sally smiled. She could be down there right now, in a boutique or in a coffee shop or standing under a marquee, watching the traffic pass through the rain.

  Far to the northwest, on the outskirts of the city, they watched as the cloud base began to lower and a funnel formed that quickly extended to the ground. Around the base of the funnel tiny objects, debris, swirled around. “It is the Finger of God!” Jimmy yelled, pointing his own finger a
t the tornado. “Behold the glory of our Father!”

  From behind them, back inside the apartment, someone yelled at them, but they could not distinguish the words above the roar of the storm. The senator and his guests had arrived at last and stood in the living room, eyes bugging out, staring at the pair standing in the open window. At that moment the tornado surged directly at them, “hopping” over the ground, rising and lowering as it came on, growing larger and larger. “Our Father is coming for us, child! Fear not! If thou believest in Me, thou wilt come to no harm! For I am the Messiah and I have returned and whosoever believeth in Me shall have eternal life!”

  Sally’s father had been a lumberjack. His specialty was top-ping tall trees. She once asked him, “Father, isn’t it dangerous up there? What if you fall?”

  Jack Consolador had put his arm around his daughter, drawing her close to him. “Sally, remember one thing about climbing trees. It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop when you hit the ground.”

  “Daddy!” Sally yelled as Jimmy was snatched away from her. “I am not afraid!”

  The funnel came right down on the top of the Dirlik Building, sucking up Senator Maxim, his servants, and the twelve disciples. Their bodies, like overripe apples, thudded to the ground all over Fargo that night.

  Jimmy Jasper and Sally Consolador were never seen again.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  TWENTY-ONE

  Senator Luke Maxim’s Villa, Fargo, Earth

  Jimmy Jasper sat opposite Senator Maxim in the living room of the senator’s villa, sipping a hot cup of unsweetened barley tea.

  “I don’t see Sally.” The senator smiled. He had spent the night in the city and had only just returned to the villa for his meeting with Jimmy.

  “She hath been called unto Fargo by the Ministry of Justice,” Jimmy replied. “They will try to turn her against me, Senator.” He shrugged. “There is always a Judas among us.”

  “Reverend, I can hardly believe—”

  Jimmy smiled. “The Lord hath given me the gift of prescience; I have seen the future, Senator. You have the list?”

  “Yes.” He handed Jimmy a handwritten list of names. “I hope you can read my handwriting. I’m so used to using voice dictation, I’ve almost forgotten how to write in longhand.”

  “That is fine, Senator, I already know who they are,” he said, unfolding the paper, “but I shall glance at it anyway. They are all in town now, you say? Ah”—he smiled broadly—“von Styles!” He referred to Henrietta von Styles, lead vocalist and founder of the gospel group known as the Doxology Chicks. “Her music hath done more to promote my ministry than anything else aside from my preaching.” He began to hum the tune to one of their most successful songs composed expressly in honor of Jimmy Jasper’s ministry:

  There are good times coming

  Good times coming.

  Everyone shall heed

  Jimmy’s godly creed

  In the good times coming.

  In the good times coming,

  Mankind shall be shorn of pride,

  And flourish all the stronger.

  In the good times coming,

  In the good times coming,

  Angels shall light their lamps,

  Wait no longer!

  Senator Maxim grinned. “It went to the top of the charts.”

  “And they hath donated the proceeds to my ministry. These girls hath done more to finance my work than any others, and their music, it toucheth the hearts of billions, Senator, billions! Music is one of the most effective means of reaching into the human heart. It appealeth directly to the emotions, bypasseth the reason, or what the majority of mankind calleth ‘reason,’ which is actually prejudice and selfishness—some of the devil’s most effective tools, aside from pride.”

  “There are those in very high places who speak out against you, Reverend.”

  “I know, I know. They believe only what their eyes can see and what others tell them, all those who hath been blinded by Satan into believing the Confederation is under attack. These poor souls are deluded. They see reality only darkly, as flickering, distorted shadows on the walls in the caverns of their souls. They live in the darkness of fear and unbelief, but I shall free them. I shall cast light into the shadows that shall reveal the true face of God’s love and cast out the demons who besiege humankind. Satan fears and hates me because of that. He would have me martyred, Senator, but that shall not come to pass, not this time. I shall not go that route again.” He studied the list.

  Senator Maxim looked up sharply. Had he heard Jimmy correctly? “I shall not go that route again”? He began to sense that something very strange and exciting was dawning upon him but he remained silent, awestruck at the thought creeping up his backbone. Quickly, his hand shaking, he downed half a glass of barley tea and coughed into his hand.

  “All these people”—Jimmy held out the list—“they shall be at the meeting?”

  “Yes, Reverend. My penthouse, tonight. They are eager to meet with you again.”

  “I shall tell them something tonight, Senator. I shall tell you all something, that shalt open a new door unto salvation, and begin the Millennium.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs comfortably. “This list thou hath prepared is exceeding fine. I knew when first I spoke with these people that they would come unto me. The Lord is very pleased at what thou hast done, Senator.”

  “More tea, Reverened?”

  The list consisted of the following names:

  Carla Morales, owner of Universal Multimedia Systems, the greatest news and entertainment enterprise in Human Space.

  John Drago, religion editor for The Galaxy Times, an acknowledged and respected authority on comparative religions.

  Henrietta von Styles, beautiful lead vocalist and founder of the gospel band known as the Doxology Chicks; their recordings had sold billions.

  Fenelon McGuire, a very popular science fiction novelist and poet whose books had sold in the billions. Her six-volume heroic saga, Fungible Fungi, had won the Nobel Prize for Literature and was rumored to be short listed for the Nebula.

  Professor Quincy C. Orchard, renowned holder of the Chair of Charismatic Religious Studies at Miskatonic Seminary.

  Wang Ng, director of Universal Labs, a Nobel Prize–winning exobiologist.

  Hillary Snead, gossip columnist for Universal Multimedia Systems. Her columns were eagerly read by billions.

  General Wilkie Warner (Confederation Army, Retired), president of the Veterans of Interplanetary Wars, highly decorated combat veteran of six wars and numerous campaigns.

  Senator Dixie Rhapsody, from Kingdom, member of the Senate Armed Services Committee and an outspoken critic of Chang-Sturdevant’s government.

  Senator D. Barkus O’Lear, from Carhart’s World, also a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee and a virulent opponent of the military.

  Senator Clayton P. Fogg, from Earth, senior member of the Senate Finance Committee, currently under indictment for felonious misuse of senatorial privileges, but never more popular with his constituents.

  Those eleven people, along with Senator Luke Maxim himself, formed a very respected and influential group, movers and shakers all, whose influence reached to the far regions of Human Space. All had committed themselves to support Jimmy Jasper’s missionary work. Together they could have a pro-found impact on public opinion.

  “I must return to the city now,” Senator Maxim announced. “I have to vote on a very important bill this morning. Then we shall all gather at my penthouse apartment, at the Dirlik Building, tonight at six?”

  “Yes, my son. Now let us pray.”

  As Senator Maxim’s car drove off from his meeting with Jimmy Jasper, it passed in the driveway the Ministry of Justice vehicle returning Sally from the city. Maxim thought he could make out Sally in the back, but the figure slouched there in the semidarkness of the car’s interior did not acknowledge his wave as the cars passed.

  Dryi
ng her eyes, Sally darted from the car directly into the garden. She found a seat under the spreading branches of a chestnut tree and plopped down on it. She dreaded facing Jimmy and needed time to compose herself.

  “My child, why are you out here?” Jimmy asked.

  Sally started violently. She had not heard his approach. “I-I wanted to enjoy the day, master.”

  Jimmy smiled and sat down beside her. “Actually, it’s not a very nice day today, is it? Humid, overcast. Storms are predicted for the late afternoon.” He put his arm around her and drew her close. “We shall never have to worry about the weather again when we are in my Father’s House, Sally, and that time is nigh. Rejoice, for thou shalt sit there with me on my right hand. Tell me what happened at the ministry.”

  Sally cleared her throat nervously. “Nothing much, master.”

  “How much ‘nothing much,’ child? Come, thou canst tell me.” Jimmy knew that Sally was the weak link in his ministry, that she’d been called into Fargo by the minister of justice because the minister was trying to use her to get at him. The visions she’d been having of late were proof to Jimmy that her faith was weakening. The visit to Fargo had upset her so much that she had fled into the garden and been crying. He knew he would have to deal with her.

  “Well, they asked me questions about myself, master, and about the time when I was in the presence of the Angels of the Lord.”

  “Did you tell them about the visions?”

  “No!” she answered too quickly.

  “Did they ask about me, child?”

  “No, master.”

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “They did not? Were you scanned?”

  At first Sally did not understand what he meant, then said, “Oh, I passed through a machine on the way in. It was nothing, master.”