The Prophet: Death: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  Daniel strained to understand what was being said; the words were growing clearer now.

  “I’m not angry with you, my First Priest…”

  The titles were strange to Daniel, but none of them mattered in the slightest. His left hand was shaking, though his right still held the pistol. If he took even a second to realize where he was—floating miles high in the sky—he might have lost it completely. All he could focus on was his daughter.

  The psychopath dropped his left arm to his side and opened his palm. Stop.

  He leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “We’re close now. They’re not moving anymore.” He closed his eyes. “Next hallway take a right. There will be a room of sorts at the end of it. She’s in there. So are they.” His eyelids pressed together tighter. “I can see everything right now, so clearly. She’s amazing.”

  Daniel ignored his lust. “Let’s go.”

  The psychopath kept his eyes closed a second longer, then nodded.

  The two finished their journey of thousands of miles, one right behind the other.

  Nicki saw everything happening in front of her. Two men wearing robes, and Nicki heard what they said, each word sparking new fear in her stomach.

  No, she thought. No. You survive this. You survive.

  Nanotech and Disciples, she didn’t understand a word of it, but she could see how frightened the man in the back was—he wore black robes, but he was definitely new here. He was thinner than the other one, the fat one that now stood in front of her. The fat one showed no fear, but the one behind him looked as if he might start shaking at any moment.

  The fat man was insane, Nicki knew that. The thin one was terrified because he wasn’t crazy, because he understood what was going on—and that was enough for Nicki.

  “We’re ready,” the fat one said and then two people appeared almost out of nowhere, as if simply waiting on the fat man’s lips to move.

  It’s time, the voice told her.

  The fat man had asked Nicki if she was ready for this, and Nicki had answered yes. It was the only answer she could think to give, without really knowing what was to happen. The voice told her almost nothing, only that she had to fight back with that gray light. It said the Black was waiting for her, and if she didn’t fight back, she’d die.

  Nicki wasn’t ready, though, and she knew it. Not for the Black, nor whatever these sociopaths were doing.

  She watched one of the workers move to the box’s left vertical bar. The other person came to her carrying a wand of some sort. He scanned it up the left side of her body, then did the same on the right. She watched as he walked behind her, knowing that he was scanning there as well.

  It’s time, the voice said again, urgency underlining her words.

  “Clear,” the person behind her said before stepping outside of the box. Nicki could barely see him peripherally. He kept his eyes on the floor and both hands behind his back—the wand presumably in one of them.

  He’s as scared as you are, Nicki thought. Look at him. Everyone in this room besides the fat man is seconds away from a panic attack.

  Nicki had heard the voice, but she didn’t move. Her own fear was growing steadily inside her, but she wasn’t going to reach down for that light. She wasn’t joining the Black; she wasn’t selling her soul, even if it meant her life.

  It. Is. Time, the voice said.

  No, Nicki thought. She felt that gray light hidden below the surface, but not deep below. Something she could reach down and touch, like putting her hand into a well of water. She could lift it up and throw that gray light over both of these men if she wanted, and that’s what the voice was telling her to do.

  Nicki didn’t want to, though.

  She wanted nothing to do with that gray light, nor what it stemmed from.

  She would find another way to survive.

  The other worker was looking at some sort of panel, his fingers typing rapidly across it.

  “Your Holiness,” the thin man said, “Perhaps we could wait? Perhaps we could consult with the First Council about this first?”

  “No, I think not,” the fat man said. “I think it’s best that we handle this internally. Plus, your Council is short one member already. The Disciples have hold of the Priestess, and if she’s not already dead, she will be momentarily. None of her ships will fire on us, so there’s no need to worry any longer.”

  “There are others,” the thin man said, his voice trembling.

  The fat man’s face remained emotionless, but Nicki watched as he slowly turned around.

  “What others?” he asked.

  “The One Path.”

  The fat man was quiet for a moment—

  You have to act, the voice said, on the verge of raging at her as it had in that black space. Whoever was behind the words, they were nearing their breaking point.

  “You brought another Ministry?” the fat man asked.

  The thin one nodded. “The Disciples can’t feel them. You can’t see them because they’re camouflaged, but they’re here, and they’re in contact with the Priestess.” He swallowed. “They may be preparing to fire right now.”

  Again, the fat man was quiet. The thin one’s right hand started shaking and Nicki thought he might actually melt. Just turn into a puddle on the floor beneath.

  “You have betrayed Corinth for the last time,” the fat man finally said. “When we’re finished here, I will deal with you.” He turned around and Nicki saw no concern on his face. It was as if nothing could ever make him concerned.

  If you don’t act now, it’s all over. Everything will end. Do you understand that? the voice demanded, nearly rattling Nicki’s skull with its ferocity.

  “Turn it on,” the fat man said.

  Twenty

  The air rushed past Raylyn, momentarily blocking her mind’s panic at the insanity of what she’d done. She stared down at the endless fall, her body flat and facing only open space below. Two people were to her right, and one to her left. She held Manor’s hand in her own.

  We’ve been falling too long! her mind shouted. Something had gone wrong, and if they picked up any more speed—

  A blur flew in front of her face and Raylyn crashed hard onto something solid. Blood shot out of her nose and deep pain buckled her entire body. She rolled over slowly, the rush of oxygen ceased, only recycled air conditioning hitting her. Raylyn cupped her nose; bright, pulsing pain radiated from it, spreading across her whole face.

  She heard the groans of others and her mind started returning, consciousness taking control again.

  Raylyn sat up, her hands still covering her nose and blood dripping down them—

  There’s no time, she thought.

  With one hand, she pushed herself up, her body aching, and looked around.

  The transport was heading down at a slight angle. Raylyn had programmed it to respond to her nanotech, hoping that it would actually work. She’d set it to hover around the Shrine’s middle, creeping closer to the top as time grew nearer. It was programmed to break free from the Shrine when it felt her nanotech falling at a certain rate, and if her math had been correct, that would give it enough time to find them before they gained too much velocity—and died on impact.

  The math hadn’t been clean enough to keep them all from getting banged up, though.

  They’d fallen through the transport’s open roof, and as Raylyn looked at the other three, she saw similar injuries. Blood on all of them, Manor still sat on the floor, looking at them with wide eyes. He hadn’t even reached for his nose, simply stared while he sat there bleeding.

  Raylyn looked away, quickly moving toward the front of the transport. It was medium sized, one of only a few left at the Shrine. Without her credentials, she wouldn’t have had access at all.

  Raylyn didn’t bother looking up through the open roof. Whatever happened up there didn’t matter right now. She heard the whoosh of air still coming in as she peered through the front window. They were circling down the Shrine, following
a preprogrammed path.

  “It’s not fast enough,” Raylyn whispered, wishing she had programmed the decline steeper. The guards above would already be in motion, though with the Priesthood missing, Raylyn hoped there might be some institutional paralysis.

  She listened as Scoble and Hollowborne approached her, one on either side.

  “How much longer?” Scoble asked.

  “Two minutes.” Raylyn chewed on her lower lip.

  “What’s going on?” Manor asked, sounding dazed.

  No one turned around; they all kept their eyes forward. The transport was heading toward Fain’s level. The plan was simple. Get her. Get out.

  The seconds passed, each one feeling like a year to Raylyn.

  “Hello?” Manor asked. “What the hell just happened?”

  She heard him stand, but still didn’t turn around.

  The transport finally approached the appropriate dock, a lifetime having passed for Raylyn during the descent.

  She turned around and looked at Manor. “Stay here.”

  The side door opened and the three rushed out, Raylyn in the lead. They ran. There was no sense in acting like everything was fine, because nothing was, and only time mattered right now. Quickly down two hallways, hitting the third and final at a full sprint.

  No assistant waited at the end of the hall, only Fain hanging in her transparent cell.

  The three slowed as they reached it, each of them breathing heavily. No one said a word, but the two looked at Raylyn expectantly. They were here because she told them to be—perhaps Scoble to ensure that Raylyn didn’t try leaving Fain—but they didn’t know what to do.

  Raylyn had prepared this as well, and just like the transport, she had to hope it worked. She reached up and wiped blood away from her face with the back of her arm, not glancing at it as she lowered her arm.

  Her eyes lit green.

  The hack was shabby and should have been easily caught. Whatever was happening with the Ministry, it was affecting everyone and everything, because no one saw it.

  The tubing inside lit green, matching Raylyn, and then slowly slid out of the woman, stopping just before removing themselves completely. They twisted around one time, quickly, creating a sealant, and then pulled out fully.

  The door to the side pulsed green a single time before disappearing.

  “Grab her,” Raylyn said.

  Scoble moved quickly. Raylyn’s eyes were still green and just as he reached Fain, the clamps on her arms began to glow.

  She collapsed into his arms, looking like a stuffed doll. Scoble was careful with her, draping her in his arms despite the speed with which they needed to move.

  He loves her, she thought. He truly does. Millions died because of what this man did, yet he is capable of love. At least as much as I am.

  Scoble rested her head in the crook of his arm, then exited the cell.

  “Let’s go,” Raylyn said. “Fast now.”

  They ran back through the hallways, and as they did a loud ringing cascaded down from above. The alarms were finally being activated—it’d taken longer than Raylyn expected and she was grateful for it. She wondered briefly if anyone inside the Shrine would even know what it meant. Certainly no non-guard personnel.

  It took less than two minutes to reach the dock. The transport’s door was open, Manor still standing there with blood on his face, though the flow had slowed. He moved out of the way as Raylyn stepped inside. Scoble was next and he handed Fain off to her.

  Raylyn turned, looking for a place to lay the woman.

  “NO!” Manor shouted.

  Raylyn whipped back to the transport’s door.

  Hollowborne was on her back, lying just outside. Scoble was on top of her, his hands gripping her neck tightly. Cords of muscles ripped up his forearms, and her face was already a bright red. White spit was at the corners of her lips, but her hands lay at her sides.

  Hollowborne wasn’t struggling.

  “You fucking bitch,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Raylyn moved forward—still holding Fain—and shouted, “STOP!”

  “You did this,” Scoble said. “YOU DID ALL OF THIS!”

  Spittle flew from his own mouth and landed on the woman beneath him. Hollowborne didn’t reach for his hands, not even as her face deepened to purple.

  “YOU KILLED HIM!” Scoble shouted. “YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!”

  Fear rose in Raylyn like a large black bird, its wings flapping around angrily inside her, threatening to disrupt all logic. There was no time for this. No time for a single word of argument, let alone murder. They would all die. She looked at Manor for less than a second, seeing uncomprehending confusion on his face, and then went right back to the two on the ground.

  She only had one choice.

  Raylyn stepped out of the transport with Fain in her arms. “Scoble,” she said backing up. “Look.” She stood next to the dock’s edge, and she turned her body so that Fain hung just off it. “I don’t have time for this. We don’t. Right now, you’re endangering my life, and if you don’t get off her, I’m dropping your friend.”

  Scoble turned his head to look at Raylyn, though his hands were still wrapped around Hollowborne’s throat. She was still, her eyes starting to flutter. Raylyn saw rage in Scoble, a hate that he’d only shown once before, having kept it hidden. He’d been smart about it, and Raylyn had been deceived.

  His eyes glanced to Fain, then back to Raylyn. The rage softened some; Raylyn saw it and the black bird’s wings slowed a bit.

  “Get off of her now,” she said. She didn’t know if she was serious, if she would actually drop this woman to her death. Maybe she would. She hadn’t wanted to kill anyone during this—actively planned everything to avoid it if possible—but the world … it was much tougher than Raylyn had ever imagined. The world cared nothing for a person’s wants, and Raylyn’s willingness to drop this unconscious woman might be the only thing that kept her alive.

  Scoble looked down at Hollowborne, his eyes narrowing.

  Seconds passed, long like decades. Her eyelids were almost closed, her face a deep, deep purple.

  Scoble spit in Hollowborne’s face and then pulled himself off her. He looked to Raylyn for a moment, hate born anew each second. Finally, he walked into the transport.

  Hollowborne’s chest surged upward, her hands finally rushing to her throat. She rolled on her side, and Raylyn moved to the transport. She gave Fain to Manor, then bent down for Hollowborne.

  “We’re out of time,” she said, scooping the gasping woman from the floor. Raylyn helped Hollowborne in, moving her to the back of the transport and sitting her down. She slumped against the seat, her chest heaving up and down.

  Raylyn turned, directing all of her focus back to the ship. Time wasn’t just short, it was gone, and she knew it. The alarm inside was ringing wildly and within seconds transports would spawn out of the Shrine.

  She sat down, her eyes glowing green again and a panel lighting up in front of her.

  “Sit down,” she said to everyone behind her as the top of the transport closed. The pain in her face was beating like a heart and her entire body ached.

  The transport pulled out from the dock and Raylyn upped the acceleration to full speed.

  She glanced in the upper left corner of her screen.

  Four ships were racing down the Shrine, heading directly toward them.

  Twenty-One

  The metal box started humming. Nicki, hanging in the middle, could both hear and feel it. The buzzing vibrations moved through her bones—though it didn’t feel like she stood on a shaking floor, or leaned against a shuttering wall.

  The very air seemed to have seeped inside of her, and was now vibrating within her.

  Green dots sparkled to life across the box’s skeleton, increasing in number by the second. Brighter and brighter, until Nicki could hardly stand to look at it. Their glow hurt.

  Now. Now. NOW! You have to go to it now! The voice held back nothing, as l
oud and forceful as it had ever been. It ripped through Nicki’s mind as if God himself had spoken.

  The humming around her increased in intensity, yet the fat man in front of her stood as if he didn’t notice. His eyes staring at her, frozen, looking like an iced-over pond. The thin man behind was pale and silent. Nicki saw a dark stain spreading across his pants—he was urinating on himself.

  NOW!

  The gray inside Nicki started welling up, called either by the voice or the fear racing through her own body. Making its presence known, warning her to protect herself. Nicki didn’t reach for it. She remained hanging, unmoving, watching the madness spill out around her.

  The buzzing in her bones made its way to her teeth—they started chattering. The room was fading, too. Blackness didn’t swarm the outer edges of her vision, but rather swirled in from the center, a tunnel growing larger.

  The voice spoke, but the fury in it was gone. A cold truth had replaced it.

  If you don’t act now, It’s over. It’s all over. Do you understand that? However they’re doing this, if they force you out there, right in front of It, you’re dead. Your body might still live here, but your mind—your very soul—It will consume everything. I told you that nothing was over, that everything was only beginning. It has left you alone because It doesn’t think you’re important. If they thrust you in front of It, though, It will act.

  Either do something now, or die.

  Trinant One stared at the True Faith members aboard their ships; their bodies were glowing green and they floated off the floor like balloons. She swallowed, understanding nothing of what was before her. She was receiving no more communications about what was taking place inside the High Priest’s home, and that meant she had only one option left.

  “I’m attacking,” she said to the Pope.

  He was seeing the same thing as her. He had to know that there was no other choice.

  The Pope was quiet for a few seconds, the video of the dying True Faith members filling the silence. Finally he said, “Okay.”

  “Use all means necessary to destroy that building,” Trinant commanded.