The Prophet: Birth: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  If you don’t do this, you’re putting his subjects at risk. The Black can’t be allowed to return, and you can’t depend on the informant for anything. They’ve already wasted too much time.

  “Go ahead,” Raylyn said aloud. “Start the pulse.”

  The nanotech registered the command, and the pulse began.

  In a few days time, Raylyn would know who’d been killed, and how to find this false prophet.

  Eleven

  The Old World Ministry

  Nicki woke up, went to work, came home, and slept.

  She resumed her life, and her father did the same. The only difference was that he started talking about dating. He actually pulled out the pamphlets the hospital gave him and discussed the different events available. There were dating programs and singles’ clubs and any other number of things the Church hosted to create marriages.

  Nicki stared at him as he talked about these events, her face a mixture of shock and horror—as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

  She couldn’t believe it, though she didn’t say it aloud. She half believed the Church might somehow be monitoring their house, but that only made what he was doing more ridiculous.

  Nicki woke up, went to work, came home, and slept.

  But she did it in a haze. She didn’t feel any of the joy she had before. The purpose.

  It was all for nought.

  And her father … talking about dating, both for him and her, as if that would solve anything.

  The Church … if he really believed what he said, that it wanted her and him dead … how could he go on pretending? Sitting in the living room at night discussing these ridiculous notions, that the two of them needed spouses.

  Nicki didn’t know what to do. She’d seen no more visions, but yet if she doubted what happened, all she had to do was think back to the man with the gray eyes. But if that was true, if the conversation with her father was as well, then the Church had been nothing more than … a lie?

  Anytime she thought the words, a barrier naturally coalesced in front of them—as if to block the phrase from her mind.

  Because the Church didn’t lie. She might not agree with everything It did, but It was still the truth. God and Jesus, they were the truth.

  Then why is the Church going to kill you? If its nature is goodness, then why can’t you talk about what happened in public? Why are you lying about it?

  Nicki felt a strange split happening in her mind, like the actual earth was shifting beneath her, with one side pulling right and the other left, and each foot on opposite portions.

  Her father was crazy.

  The Church was a lie.

  She listened to her Dad talk at night, nodding in the places he expected her to, and thought those two things.

  My father is crazy.

  The Church is a lie.

  They couldn’t both be true. Only one of them. What could Nicki say, though? She couldn’t bring these things up, because her father had already told her that to do so would mean death.

  My father is crazy.

  The Church is a lie.

  And so for days, Nicki woke up, went to work, came home, and slept. She did it faithfully, as she had every day before, and felt that she might be nearing insanity.

  The moon rested in the sky, its throne having ascended to the highest it could ever hope, and its reign—while brief—was also beautiful. Pale white light shone down on Nicki’s house and lawn, casting shadows long and short. The sounds of insects filled the cool air. It was night and they ruled the land. It was their time and instinct propelled them forward, to eat, to mate, to reproduce. To continue their DNA’s replication.

  Nicki experienced none of this, though she stood in its midst.

  She didn’t see the pale moonlight.

  She didn’t hear the insects chirping.

  She didn’t even feel the air against her skin.

  Nicki stood in the middle of her yard. She wore only panties and a long t-shirt. Exactly what she’d worn to sleep.

  Thirty minutes before, she’d sat up in bed with open eyes. She remained there for a few more minutes, staring forward, but truly not seeing anything around her.

  After a few moments, she swung her feet off the bed and stood up. She didn’t go to her dresser or closet, but went to the bedroom door. She opened it and then padded into the hallway, her shirt covering much of her flesh, but not something she would have ever worn outside of her room.

  She moved through the house, blinking only sporadically, and found the front door. She unlocked it, opened it, then pushed the screen door. Nicki walked onto the porch and stood there for a few seconds, as if unsure where to go next. She didn’t look around, however, but stared straight forward into the empty yard. The family car sat to the right, but if she’d come out for a drive, she was ill prepared.

  A decision having perhaps been made, Nicki walked into the yard, amongst the world that she didn’t see.

  Questions of insanity were gone.

  Thoughts of her father or the Church no longer existed either.

  Nicki was riding inside a car, one that she had never seen before. She was in the backseat, and didn’t recognize the person driving. A stranger.

  The sun shone outside, but that didn’t seem strange to Nicki, having no idea she was actually standing in her yard at night. The car’s windows were down despite the air being too cool for it. The driver didn’t seem to mind, though Nicki scooted to the middle of the back seat, hoping to avoid its chill.

  “Hello?” she asked. She didn’t know the street she was on, the car she was in, nor the person driving—but she didn’t feel nervous. Only curious.

  The man said nothing, though he did look in the rearview mirror for a second. His eyes didn’t seem to register her, seeing only the road behind him. Nicki turned around and looked but saw nothing of interest. No cars. Just an empty street that stretched in a long, straight line.

  “Hello?” she asked again, turning around and putting herself halfway into the front of the car.

  The man didn’t move at all.

  He had short, dark hair. His face was thin, as was his body. Not emaciated, but someone who appeared to spend many of his days not lifting anything very heavy.

  Nicki waved her hand in front of his eyes.

  Again, the man didn’t move. He gave no notice she was there at all.

  Nicki didn’t know what was happening, nor how any of this was possible, but still, a calmness permeated her. It felt as if she was supposed to be here. Even if the world didn’t know she was, she still belonged.

  Nicki looked to the right and saw a folder. It was tan and her name was written across it in capital letters.

  NICKI SESAM.

  She reached across the seat, placing her hand on it, and then quickly turned around and looked at the driver. He was still staring forward, one hand on the steering wheel.

  Nicki took the folder, and with one more glance at the strange man, she sat back against her seat. She flipped the folder open and started reading through it.

  Her medical records stared back at her, the first page being her last visit.

  Her doctor’s name was at the top right. Nicki still remembered his handwriting, which was scribbled on the paper.

  Patient exhibited symptoms that may require a closer examination. Paranoia, a break from reality, and psychosis. A few primary causes are possible: schizophrenia, a cry for help, or the sight. It is the third option that I worry about, as the other two can be dealt with medically.

  Nicki stopped reading and looked back to the driver.

  He’d seemed innocent when she first looked at him, but now she felt something sinister to him. The gauntness in his face. The bony knots of his knuckles. The eyes that weren’t tired despite how many miles he’d driven.

  She turned to the folder and looked through the pages beneath the first. Brain scans. Records going back years, with everything else appearing normal.

  Besides the first p
age.

  The sight.

  Those two words were what mattered. Why did this stranger have her medical records?

  Nicki closed the folder and reached into the front seat again, placing it down. She paused, hanging over the middle console, and looked at the glove compartment. She reached forward, not bothering to check with the driver again, and opened it.

  A gun sat inside.

  Nicki didn’t know much at all about guns, but she thought this one was called a revolver.

  It stared back at her, its steel frame looking more sinister than the man driving the car. It seemed to speak.

  I know you, Nicki Sesam. I know you and I’m on this trip for one single reason: to make sure no one else ever knows you again.

  Nicki stared at it, almost hypnotized by its voice.

  “GET OUT!”

  Nicki heard the words and tried to turn around, but the driver’s hand grabbed her throat, pulling her up and across the seat. He threw her down into the passenger side’s foot space, his skinny arms unbelievable strong.

  Nicki kicked her feet, spittle flying from her mouth. Her face was turning red and her lungs burning inside her chest. She kicked at the man, looking into a face full of rage.

  She kicked and kicked, breaking his nose and teeth, until blood poured down his chin and dripped all over the car, but still he held her down. He swerved across the road, never looking up, his eyes on her the entire time.

  Nicki’s legs weakened while her lungs caught fire.

  I’m dying, she thought, and then—at least in that car—she did.

  The air in Nicki’s body rushed out in a single, huge, gush.

  Her eyes were wide open and her mouth agape.

  She stood like that for a second, not taking in another breath, but staring straight ahead as if she were brain dead.

  Finally, her body’s emergency systems kicked in and she gasped, pulling air into her lungs.

  A scream rose in her throat, ready to rip out and release the horror that she’d just felt. Only the beginning escaped, though, her catching the cry just before it filled the yard and drowned out the singing insects.

  If anyone knows, you’ll die.

  It was her father’s voice, and then she thought of the man’s look in the car. His face bright red, a vein bulging across his forehead, and his arm shoving her down below the seat, straining her neck and cutting off the flow of oxygen. Killing her.

  Nicki stood in her yard, slowly coming to realize where she was while her breath returned to a more normal pace.

  Minutes passed.

  The cold finally got to her, breaking out goosebumps across her flesh.

  Nicki started walking, feeling the grass beneath her bare feet for the first time. She crossed the yard and walked to the porch. Her arms were shaking, her legs too—though not from the cold.

  She was terrified as she went to her father’s room.

  Daniel heard the knocking on his door and woke up immediately. The past week, his sleep had been light and his fretting a constant underpinning.

  “Nicki?”

  “Yes, Daddy. It’s me.”

  Daniel didn’t like the way her voice sounded. Scared. Like she did when she was young and had a nightmare, padding across the house and asking if she could climb in bed with him and her mother.

  “Come in,” he said. He sat up and leaned toward the lamp next to him, hitting the switch and lighting up the room.

  Nicki opened the door and stepped inside.

  She wore nothing but a t-shirt that went to her mid-thigh, something else Daniel didn’t like. She would never be seen like this, not around him—or anyone else.

  “What’s going on, honey?”

  She stared at the floor and was silent, the door open behind her.

  “Nicki? Darling, can you hear me?”

  She nodded but said nothing.

  Daniel stood from his bed and went to the dresser against the far wall. He squatted and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, then put them on. Finally, feeling less naked, he turned back toward his daughter.

  “What’s going on?”

  She still hadn’t looked up from the floor.

  “Hey,” he said, walking over to her. “Hey. It’s okay.” Daniel put his arms around her and pulled her close to him. “Talk to me.”

  “It happened again.”

  Daniel felt his stomach sink, dread and self-hate mixing to form a dense concrete directly in the middle of his abdomen.

  It shouldn’t happen this soon. The sight … it wasn’t something one walked around experiencing all day or even weekly. Maybe once or twice a year. That was it.

  “You saw something?”

  She nodded, her head moving against Daniel’s chest.

  “What?”

  “Someone’s coming.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that, Nicki? What did you see?”

  “Someone’s coming for me.”

  Daniel pushed her back some and looked down at her.

  “I need you to be very specific with me now, Nicki. What did you see?”

  She was crying silently, tears running down her cheeks. She stared forward at his chest as if he wasn’t there.

  “I was in the back of a car. A man was driving. I didn’t know who he was, and I couldn’t get his attention, but in the front seat … there was a folder with my name on it. I opened it up and it had my medical history in it. It had my visit to the hospital. And then, and then, and then—”

  She couldn’t get the words out and her chest hitched as she tried.

  “Okay. Okay. Let’s go sit down and you can finish telling me about it,” Daniel said, pulling her close once more and wrapping his arms around her.

  He held her like that for a second and then walked her down the hall to the kitchen. He was worried, but trying not to show it. Daniel needed her calm enough to speak, and he had to set a tone for that to be possible.

  He sat her down at the table and then went to the coffee pot. He poured in water and added grounds without saying anything, hoping she would adjust a bit to a different room.

  When he finished, he turned around and looked at her, noticing she was still wearing that t-shirt and that it had crept almost up to her ass.

  “Give me one second,” he said. He went into the living room and grabbed the small blanket draped over the couch, bringing it back to her. “Stand up.” He wrapped it around her and then helped her sit back down. He was quiet again as he went back to the coffee pot and poured them each a cup.

  He sat down at the table and placed hers down.

  “Okay, honey. I want you to try again. What did you see? You were in a car and you saw your medical records?”

  She nodded. The tears on her face weren’t dry, Daniel didn’t see any fresh ones and figured that was a good sign. He needed to hear this, and quickly.

  “I looked in the glove compartment and there was a gun inside. And then ….”

  Tears sprang to her eyes but she reached up and wiped them away.

  “He grabbed me and started choking me. He hadn’t been able to see me before, but he could then. He … He killed me.”

  Her voice cracked again and she brought a hand to her mouth.

  Daniel reached forward and touched her knee. “You’re okay. Nothing in the visions can hurt you, no matter what they feel like.”

  He remained there for a second as she gained control of herself. He didn’t like talking in his house, not about this, but he’d already started. He couldn’t very well make Nicki stand up and walk outside.

  “I woke up in the yard,” she said. “I don’t remember going out there.”

  He nodded, knowing that those things were just details. The important facts were inside the vision.

  “Honey, will you think really hard for a second. Was this the same as what happened in the restaurant? Or could it have been a dream?”

  “I … I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know the difference.�
�

  “How real did it feel?”

  She shook her head and Daniel thought he saw another part of her trying to take over. She’d been in a state of complete openness for a few minutes, but her rational mind might be trying to reclaim control.

  “Look at me.”

  Nicki did.

  “How real did it feel?”

  “Real,” she said, nodding her head quickly. “It felt real.”

  Not good, he thought, and on multiple fronts. If it was a vision, then it was coming far too quickly—though that was something he’d have to consider later. The man in the car, that was what mattered.

  Was someone coming for his daughter?

  “What did the man look like? Could you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  Nicki nodded. “Yes. I could.”

  “What did he look like?” Daniel asked again, realizing he could only ask one question at a time right now.

  “He’s skinny, almost to the point of being frail. But he’s not. He’s strong. His face is … it’s hard. His hands are all boney, and his knuckles look like knots. He might be in his 40’s, but I … I don’t know.”

  Daniel nodded. “Do you know where he was?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Could you recognize the car?”

  Nicki paused for a second, looking at the steaming cup of coffee in front of her. “Maybe if I saw the inside of it. Yeah. If I saw the inside, I could.”

  “Okay.”

  Daniel looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was a little after 4:00, and there wasn’t any point in going back to bed, at least not for him.

  “Do you want a few more hours of sleep?”

  Nicki was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded.

  “Okay. Go on to bed. I’ll wake you up just before we need to leave, alright?”

  She nodded again, still staring at the coffee cup. Daniel reached forward and took her hand.

  “Hey. I love you. This is going to be fine.”

  Nicki shook her head. “I don’t know if it is, Dad. What if that man’s coming for me?”

  What if he is, Daniel? What are you going to do then? Kill someone the Church sent? Because that’s who this is, whether or not you want to admit it. That fucking doctor wrote a report on your daughter, and it made its way to a Priest. Now, if she’s right, they’re coming for her.