The Prophet: Death: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

The First Priest’s hand connected with her cheek, hard—an echo of flesh on flesh sounding off the walls. Her head whipped to the side, blood spurting from her nose and flying to the white floor beneath. The First Priest stood, his arm still extended.

  “The quicker you understand that we’re not equals here, the better this will go for you. Your friends, all of them, are going to die. I wouldn’t let them live if Corinth himself commanded it. You’ll live as long as you serve a purpose, and the moment you stop, I’ll kill you too.”

  Hollowborne didn’t move, but kept staring at her blood sitting on the floor like tiny red streams.

  “I’ll let you think about this some, but I’m going to come back, and when I do, you’re going to start talking.”

  Rebecca listened as the Priest left, but didn’t look over. She heard the wall fall away, the Priest’s footfalls as he walked down the hall, and then listened as the wall reformed.

  Her face stung, and she could still feel his hand connecting with her cheekbone. The sound of him slapping her face seemed to continue ringing across the room as if it might not ever end. It would continue on and on, reminding her of what she had once been and now what she was. The sound would only stop with her death, because then, it wouldn’t need to keep telling her how foolish she’d been.

  No, she thought.

  Rebecca remained still. She stared at the red liquid which had fallen from her body, knowing that more was dribbling over lips.

  No. I wasn’t foolish.

  The words went through her mind, but the sound of the Priest slapping her grew louder—impossible but true.

  Because that never would have happened before. No one would dare touch her. Equals? Is that what the old man had said, that they weren’t equals? She, whose brother had been the Prophet, wasn’t this man’s equal?

  You killed your brother, Rebecca. You watched him fall from the sky and now he’s no more. You’re no one’s sister. You have no family. No friends. You gave up everything you care about and everyone who loved you.

  Did he do that? This Priest? Because if not, then you’re not his equal. You’re beneath him.

  And he just showed you that, didn’t he?

  Rebecca finally sat up. Tears were no longer in her eyes, which was why she hadn’t moved at first. The slap had made them water, and she wasn’t going to cry anymore in this room. She wouldn’t give any of the True Faith such satisfaction.

  They may not watch you cry, but what does that matter? Is that your final stand? Where you leave your mark, that you, Rebecca Hollowborne, sister of a murdered Prophet, will not cry in front of them?

  The thought lingered in her head, mocking her.

  The First Priest was going to come back, and what would she do then? Tell him no? That she wasn’t going to work with him? The idea was laughable. He would get what he wanted from her, the only difference being he’d probably add a healthy dose of pain.

  Rebecca stood up from her chair without knowing she was going to do it. She stared at the wall which would allow others to enter and exit, but only kept her locked inside.

  You killed your brother to keep the Black at bay, Rebecca. Will you not help the True Faith as well, if the result is the same?

  There was an almost physical reaction to that thought. Helping the True Faith … it felt like helping cancer grow inside her own body, feeding it the necessary fuel to let it continue feasting on her healthy cells.

  Yet, regardless of her feelings, the thought was true. She had let David die. Watched him fall from the sky to a watery grave. So would she keep her mouth shut now, in order to … what? Simply refuse the True Faith.

  Rebecca lay down on the hard, cold floor. She curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She barely managed to keep her tears at bay.

  They’d had everything.

  Trust.

  Love.

  A purpose.

  And it was all dead.

  Yet she still had to keep going, didn’t she? There wasn’t anything else she could do. She’d given up heaven, and now she would have to adapt to hell.

  The First Priest left the meeting with Hollowborne and traveled down a few floors to where Scoble and Reinheld were being held. His hand hurt from slapping her, his bones too old to be doing such things. Yet, a part of him liked it.

  But that wasn’t being truthful either.

  All of him liked it. The First Priest had never found sadism attractive, though he’d heard some Priests had a predilection for it. Yet, slapping that woman across the face had truly felt good, even though his hand was hurting right now. He didn’t know if it was because of what she had served, or if it was helping him reestablish some of the power he felt the High Priest had stolen—but either way, he’d enjoyed it.

  The First Priest hadn’t known about the woman named Christine, but the moment Hollowborne said her name, his nanotech had sent out alerts across the territory. She would be found soon, then brought here with these two. The First wanted everyone who had surrounded the Prophet at Corinth’s Shrine. The rest of the Ministry was still in shambles, and would be for some time to come. Here, though, the First could work without fear of interruption.

  The rest of the Council could rebuild.

  He would ensure the Black never returned.

  The First Priest reached the cell without slowing as he came upon the wall. It disappeared just before his foot would have touched it, and he crossed the barrier into the cell.

  Manor Reinheld sat to the Priest’s right and Rhett Scoble lay directly in front of him. These two had benches attached to the wall, unlike Hollowborne further up the building. Reinheld looked at him, but Scoble didn’t move.

  For a brief second, the First Priest thought about three things. First, his hurting hand, which led quickly to how much he enjoyed hurting the woman, and then unexpectedly, he thought about the blonde girl the High Priest had taken. A week had passed and not a word from the old man. He was alone with his plaything, and the First Priest wondered if he perhaps felt the same joy the High did right now.

  At hurting someone.

  “Scoble. That’s your name, correct?” the First asked.

  The man opened his eyes a little and looked over, though didn’t move his head at all. He looked at the First for a few seconds, then closed them again.

  So, the whole group thought themselves greater than the True Faith.

  Maybe this was a gift from Corinth. All these arrogant people delivered to the First Priest, and then him slapping someone for the first time in his life? Feeling the pleasure that came from such a thing? Yes, maybe this was a gift, a forgiveness combined with a reward.

  “Your friend is upstairs. Rebecca Hollowborne. Your other friend, I believe her name is Christine, she’ll be here soon, too. I believe her last name is Fain. Everything you wanted is over, and I know you think you’re going to die soon. That doesn’t have to be true.”

  The First Priest let the offer hang in the air, but Scoble didn’t react at all. Reinheld was still looking at him, but the First was keeping him around for a very different purpose.

  “You and your two friends are going to help the True Faith,” the Priest continued. “You’re going to help us make sure that the Black doesn’t return, and that if It does, we’ll be able to kill It. I wanted to give you some time to think on this, because right now, I imagine you’ll act like your friend upstairs. Indignant. Arrogant. Silly, mainly.” The First paused for a second, wondering how much he should say. He wanted to destroy this man, body and soul—though unsure which one he would enjoy more after the slap. “I’m sure you’ve both noticed your nanotechnology doesn’t work here. There won’t be any communicating with each other, nor anyone else.”

  The First Priest took a few steps forward. Scoble still didn’t open his eyes.

  “After what I say next, you may want to try contacting your friend upstairs. You won’t be able to … It was her, Rhett Scoble. She was the traitor in your organization. She was the one who told u
s where he would be at the end, flying so high in the sky, looking infinitely powerful, but having no idea that his life was nearly over. He had no idea we had him surrounded, and by the time he did, it was too late. She told us all of that. She killed him. Not us.”

  Scoble didn’t move at all, and if not for the slow rising and falling of his chest, the First Priest might have thought him dead.

  “Think about the things I’ve told you. They’re all true. There’s a lot of pain in this place for people who don’t love Corinth. For people such as yourself. I’ll be back soon. I hope you’re ready to talk.”

  The First Priest stared for a second longer. The man showed nothing. That was fine. He could be as arrogant as he wanted right now. Corinth and the True Faith would break him of that.

  Two

  David is dead.

  That was the only thing Christine could be sure about. Rhett and Rebecca, she didn’t know, though with each passing hour, she thought it more likely.

  David is dead.

  She knew that because Rhett had told her, back when she still had contact with him.

  David is dead, Rhett’s nanotechnology said. Rhett sounded almost dead himself, his nanotech possessing almost no emotion.

  What? Christine had asked, her own voice immediately bordering on hysteria.

  He’s dead. I saw him die.

  No, no. That’s not possible. I’d feel something. Everything feels the same, Christine had said, refusing to believe it.

  They’re putting a necklace on me, Christine. Right now. You won’t be able to talk to me any—

  And then the connection had ended.

  She scrambled to connect with Rebecca next, but couldn’t find her.

  There were others she could contact, but none closer to David—none that would know what the hell Rhett was talking about.

  That had been on the day Christine now thought of as Day One.

  She was on Day Nine, and hadn’t heard another word from Rhett. Rebecca was lost from her, too. Yet, rumors had spread and rapidly, at least in the beginning. The Prophet was dead. The Summoning was over. Christine had tried to hold the line, demanding the Summoning continue, but the tide turned quickly. Transports were dispatched to the cities David controlled, decimating his followers.

  Christine watched it all over the past week, trying to hold on. Hoping that Rhett had been wrong; hoping that all wasn’t lost.

  On Day Nine, she woke up and knew the truth.

  David is dead, she thought.

  The SkyLight was just starting to change its hue and Christine had slept for less than two hours. She didn’t know when she’d last had a full night’s sleep, but she found tiny pockets of time when she could close her eyes. She’d spent the past week in a heavy fog of fear, exhaustion, and depression. She remembered some of the things she had seen—the transports sweeping down across the last city she’d been in. Their lasers firing indiscriminately at the towers hanging from the Earth’s surface. Whoever was in charge had taken the mindset that anyone still alive must follow the Prophet, and thus must die.

  She remembered the people she traveled with making heroic sacrifices to keep her moving, many of them dying behind her.

  She didn’t remember their names, though. Only their actions. They had followed David and despite the turning tide, continued their service.

  They’re dead now, Christine thought, and so is David.

  The past two days had pulled at her hope, bringing it down low until it finally couldn’t fly at all. Last night, the weight drowned her hope and ruthlessly killed it.

  Waking up this morning, Christine couldn’t deny it any longer. It was over, all of it. She’d noticed a change in the transports the last two days, and she finally had to admit it.

  “They’re after me,” she whispered. Other people slept around her, but she heard no stirring from her words. They were out cold, the constant movement and hyper alertness catching up to them.

  The transports weren’t on a simple kill mission anymore, at least not the ones she was seeing. The transports from the first week had been large things, with huge weapons attached that were capable of destroying entire buildings.

  Now, if she were to stick her head outside the shack they inhabited, she wouldn’t see such massive machines. In the distance, maybe a few miles off, there would be small transports—one or two person machines—flying slowly from building to building.

  She watched them a few hours ago, unsure what to say to the people traveling with her, ensuring that she survived above all else. They weren’t giving up hope despite what was now obvious. David was dead, and whatever power they had held when he lived, died with him.

  Christine watched the transports move along the outside of buildings. They would shoot green lights in through the windows—thin, horizontal scans that moved up and down the rooms. If they found someone, they first scanned them, and Christine had seen what happened when the scan finished…

  A single laser blasted through the window and cut the person in half. Their upper torso falling over while their lower half remained standing. It happened over and over, sometimes with groups and sometimes only with individuals, but Christine had watched.

  Now, looking up at the ceiling above her, she knew what they were doing. Why the wide scale destruction had stopped, and this smaller scalpel was being used.

  They want me.

  Who else could it be? Three of them had surrounded David: Rebecca, Rhett, and Christine. Perhaps the first two were the most important, but Christine knew her place wasn’t far behind. Someone was talking, telling the True Faith where to look for her, even as she skipped from city to city under the cover of darkness. Probably multiple someones, leaks coming from everywhere.

  What do I do? she wondered, and then immediately after, Why do they want me?

  If David was dead, what did she matter? What did any of them matter? Their blood was useless, even if it felt no different now that the Prophet was gone. Without him, they could do nothing.

  That doesn’t change the fact that if you walk over to the edge of the room and look out the window, you’re going to see transports making their way to you. Slowly. Scanning building after building, because they haven’t quit. You have a few more hours to get out of here, or else they’re going to find you.

  And then what?

  Christine rolled over and pushed herself to her feet. She looked at the ten people lying in the room with her. None moved. They were exhausted, but Christine knew what she had to do regardless of how they felt. Christine was simpler than either Rhett or Rebecca. She was more like David, lacking the complex feelings the other two were capable of. Christine would continue on. She wasn’t going to quit, nor would she wait for the transports to flush her out. The people in the room with her, they could make their own decisions, but if they continued serving, then they would fight as hard as she.

  David was dead, but Christine wasn’t. The Unformed still lived, too, even if unable to cross over. She had served David, and she still served the Unformed.

  “It’s time to get up,” she said to the still room.

  She heard movement around her, saw people rustling as her words crawled through their dreams.

  “Five minutes,” Christine said, “then we plan how the hell we’re getting out of here.”

  Christine stared out the window, disbelief filling her.

  “It’s not possible,” someone said.

  Christine felt the exact same way, though she kept her own mouth closed. It might not be possible, but yet, her eyes weren’t lying to her.

  “They couldn’t have done it that quickly. Not all of those buildings.”

  Maybe not with the number that had been outside when they all fell asleep two hours ago. That many transports couldn’t have scanned those buildings, not in such a short time period. Christine wasn’t looking at ten double occupant transports now, though. She saw ten times that many.

  They were everywhere. The SkyLight above was growing brighter as noon
crawled closer. The artificial sunlight bounced off the transports’ silver exteriors, reflecting orange at Christine.

  “What do we do?” someone said.

  They were maybe a half mile off, if that. Maybe another 100 buildings separated them from Christine’s.

  “We’re leaving. Make sure the transport is ready,” Christine said. “Now.”

  She heard two people rush off, though she didn’t take her eyes from the army outside. Everyone here would die, Christine felt sure of that. Maybe they would kill her, too—that she didn’t know. Perhaps they only wanted to guarantee David’s inner circle was dead, and that’s why they were moving so slowly.

  But, maybe they wanted her; it was another possibility.

  Christine wasn’t going to let either of those options take place, not if she could help it.

  “Downstairs,” she said. Their transport hovered beneath the building.

  “What the hell are we going to do? Try to fly away?”

  Christine turned from the window but didn’t bother looking at the man who asked the question. David might be dead, but what he taught her still stuck. Right now, she didn’t have time to answer any questions. They were moments from death.

  “Everyone get to the transport,” she said, raising her arm and pointing to the door at the edge of the room.

  They looked outside for a second longer, and then as a group followed her order.

  Christine followed, her pace quick and putting pressure on those in front to walk faster.

  The building they were in wasn’t very tall, and that created problems. The transport was at the bottom, and had the building been taller, they could have hidden more easily. Instead, other buildings stretched further down from the surface, and as the transports moved along them, they’d be more likely to see Christine’s transport.

  The group descended the staircase; it held no windows and Christine didn’t like that. She needed to see what was happening outside, but had no other option.

  “Faster,” she said. “Fucking go faster.”

  Her voice echoed off the walls, sounding harsh in her own ears.