by Mark Kraver
Conrad watched the cloud streak for him as he stood on the beach with his cellphone to his ear and his mouth agape.
“Vince? Are you there?” Logan shouted.
“Yeah. I’m still here,” he said.
“Can you see him? He wants you to come with us. I want you to come with us. I need you.”
“Sure, I’m not doing anything,” he said. “What do I do?”
“Walk to the edge of the water. He’s sending Numen for you. Don’t be afraid.”
“A new man? Okay,” he said, pushing through to the water’s edge. Then, before everyone’s eyes, a winged angel materialized, floating over the water about fifty feet away. Conrad was so startled he almost fell backwards into the stinky mud.
People began to panic and retreat from the sight, leaving Conrad alone in the middle of a semicircle of retreating believers.
“Vincent?” Logan shouted into the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Walk to Numen. He’ll take care of you.”
“Right. I suppose you want me to walk on the water?”
“Something like that. Put one foot in front of the other and walk to Numen.”
The crowd began losing its fear and started to creep forward.
“Vincent, move your ass!” Logan yelled, as a little naked winged baby popped up behind Conrad and gave him a shove.
“Yikes!” he screamed.
Freckles screamed.
Then the crowd screamed.
Conrad pulled the phone from his ear, looked down at the brown stinky water, felt another nudge from behind, and screamed again, taking a timid stepped forward. To his surprise, his foot hovered over the water. Right next to him was a little flying thingy shaking its head rapidly while smiling and pointing the way with its tiny finger.
“Vince, what are you doing?” Freckles yelled, stepping into the water and sloshing toward him.
“Oh, crap,” he said, pulling his bag closer and quickening his steps, partly so Freckles wouldn't follow, but most importantly, to not upset the little flying baby next to him.
“Vince,” Freckles yelled, plowing knee-deep into the thick bay as Conrad duck-walked across the top of the water into the hovering angelic wings. “Wait, don’t take him! He doesn’t even believe! Take me,” she cried, stepping deeper into the murky water.
The instant he reached the angel, Numen folded his wings around him and lifted into the sky. Conrad vanished in a gush of awe from the crowded beach.
“Hello. I am Numen. I see you have met your escort, Ballard,” he said, nodding to the little creature next to him. Ballard was smiling and trying to hold Conrad’s hand. “Logan and my master Yahweh are waiting for you.”
Conrad stood perfectly still, just absorbing the fact that he was inside a flying bubble next to a golden robot-man and a little naked baby, as they launched high into the sky. He felt frozen in shock, his arms folded tightly across his bag, wide eyed, not knowing if he should even breathe.
Chapter 42
Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu, 604-531 BC, Earth
Library of Souls
Escort
Through Numen’s ocular relays, everything the seraph saw was visible on a vapor display screen cast over the inner surface of the bubble. Logan watched as Conrad walked—well, waddled—on water into Numen’s wings. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Logan would not have believed it.
Yahweh held the cloud on a steady course toward New York Harbor, passing under the crowded Verrazano-Narrows Bridge while Numen delivered his passenger. Yahweh observed Logan carefully. He felt that she loved Conrad. He missed love. It still felt like yesterday that he last saw his parents and little sister. Their loss weighed heavy on him. His sapient parents, the ones who birthed him into this universe, were his most cherished memories. He was lucky to have enjoyed his parents and little sisters longer than others in his class. His little sister Nina, born shortly after he moved to the academy, was especially dear to him.
Now his family was long dead, forgotten by everyone in the universe but him. He wondered what it would be like to love someone again. It would mean spending time with someone whose company he enjoyed, no, whose company he loved. They would have the same goals and motivations. This other being would care for him more than anything; their love for one another would be even greater than their own love of self. Was that even possible? He wondered if this was why Ra and El were so close. Did they love each other?
Numen floated into the gravity well of the Cloud of Christ and rested Conrad next to Logan. They embraced and held each other for over a minute before he peeled himself away to look around. Following behind them were more than a hundred flying naked babies.
“Kit, what the hell is going on?” he asked, looking up at the tall, young, bald-head teenager, and Numen.
She looked at the babies swarming behind them and shrugged. “It was a hard day’s—night. I didn’t know they were back there.”
“Vincent? I am Yahweh,” the boy with the larger than normal bald head said to Conrad. “You already met Numen and your escort Ballard. Please do not be alarmed by my cherubim. They have been arriving all night. I hope you were not annoyed by yours?”
“Mine?”
“Yes, you have been accompanied on your journey to us by—that one, I believe,” he said, pointing to the little cherub following close behind pressing its face against the outer surface of the bubble, waving his little hand and smiling. “This is Ballard.”
“What? Can he stop bullets?”
“Indubitably.”
“Wow, he should be called Bullet, not Ballard,” he said, as the flashbacks of near-death experiences on the expressway and in the convenience store projected in his mind. That inexplicable blur, he thought, suddenly made a little more sense. Ballard nodded his head wildly hearing the name and squeaked with approval, “Bullet, Bullet.”
Yahweh smiled with approval. “You have come here to assist Dr. Katherine Logan?”
“Ah, I think so.”
“Logan needed you,” Yahweh continued. “She will require support in her time of need.”
Conrad looked at her, and she at him, confused. After a moment, Logan shrugged, and Conrad turned his attention to the scene below his feet, where the bay was filled with all manner of water-going vessels. “We are going to the UN?”
“Yep,” Logan said. “What have you heard about us on the news?”
“That every dignitary across the planet is fighting to get here, except all those ding-dongs in the Middle East, of course.”
“Really? No one’s bombed Israel or anything like that?” she asked.
“No. It looks like the world has come to a complete standstill. Oh man, I almost forgot. Someone shot at you. Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, never even got close. No problem, really.”
“The news showed an army spotlight of sorts hitting you in North Carolina, I think? It was beautiful. The beam hit you dead on, and light rays radiated out in what looked like a bright, glowing cross…I think this is New York Harbor,” he said, noticing how all the boats, helicopters, and small airplanes seemed to move in unison, attracted to the cloud like insects around a bug light. “Would you look at that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Primitive feelings stirred inside Nadira’s merged thoughts with Lanochee inside the connectome:
“The girl needed him, and he needed her? You believe Ra and El were lovers?” she asked, feeling Lanochee’s hand in hers.
“Love is a powerful force,” answered Yahweh.
“When do you know you are in love?” asked Lanochee.
“Love rules without rules,” said Yahweh, “and without love, life is a very lonely place.”
Chapter 43
It is your own conduct which will lead you to reward or punishment, as if you had been destined therefor.
Prophet Muhammad, 570-623, Earth
Library
of Souls
Sailfish
The crew of the US Coast Guard vessel Sailfish were overwhelmed. Everywhere they looked, vessels were breaking the law. Speeders, reckless drivers, drunks, and now this cargo ship plowing into the East River. What was next?
“Skipper, mayday,” Seaman Cobb shouted.
“I heard. What’s their locations? Can it wait?” responded a skipper, staring at the oncoming cloud through high-powered binoculars.
“No sir, cargo vessel off our stern is ramming boats, sinking some.”
“What?” The skipper swung around to see the cargo ship coming at them. “Can you raise the vessel? Maybe it’s out of control?”
“I’m trying, sir, but it’s not responding.”
“Move these boats out of its way,” shouted the skipper. “Get command on the radio. That vessel is not clearing the Brooklyn Bridge on this tide.”
“Or any tide,” Cobb shouted over the blasting ship’s horn.
All along the shoreline, people were swarming the docks like rats at a dish of warm milk. They climbed onto moored vessels and up light poles, thinking it would give them a better vantage point for the biggest show in New York City. Hundreds of thousands strained to glimpse the cloud as it passed up the mouth of the East River.
Saeed rode the mammoth cargo ship like a battering ram, leaving wrecked vessels in his path. The cloud was nearing them, and through his binoculars he could see there were human figures inside.
“I don’t believe this is Jesus and Mary,” he preached to his awestruck captain. “Ready to fire SAMs into that blaspheming cloud. Stand by for my command,” he shouted over the radio to his nervous jihadists.
Floating high above the harbor, Conrad marveled at the congestion. “I can’t believe how many boats are down there. And these helicopters, and planes, geez.” He moved closer to Logan and spoke softly in her ear. “Did you ever figure out where these guys are from?”
“Not really,” she whispered. “Something about the Elohim; they created this solar system.”
“No shit?” he said, turning his head to see Yahweh wink and tug on his earlobe.
Floating over the mouth of the East River, they spotted the cargo ship. It was easy to see. It was the vessel with a massive white wake behind it. The cloud had to rise higher to clear the top containers.
“Look at that. Oh my God, that ship hit that little boat,” Logan shouted. “What’s it doing?”
They watched as one vessel after another either shot out of the way at the last moment, or was rammed, and sunk by the cargo ship. It was like watching a disaster movie in slow motion.
The Coast Guard skipper looked over his shoulder. The cloud was almost on top of them. In the cloud were the figures of a man and a woman.
“Skipper, Command,” Cobb said, handing the mic to him as the cloud floated overhead.
“What’s your location?” the command operator asked.
“We are right under that cloud, and I can see them. This is as real as it gets,” the stunned skipper said, watching the cloud pass overhead.
“Great,” the command operator said.
“Yeah, right. The problem is the cargo ship entering the East River. It has rammed several boats,” he said, refocusing his priorities.
“Affirmative. We are warning boats to get out of its way and sending all available assistance.”
“Roger that. I think the vessel is out of control,” the skipper said, wincing at another boat going under.
“We concur. We are unable to hail her, and it is not scheduled for offloading in the area.”
The cloud was almost upon them. It didn’t look manmade to Yusef. It looked like a storm cloud with two people floating at its base. As the cloud got closer, Yusef saw a man and woman dressed in white robes. Sure looked real to him. “Oh my God,” Yusef said trembling, as both the figures looked directly at him.
Over the speaker came the order, “Fire!” A dozen or so topside containers sizzled as streams of smoke flew at the cloud.
Yusef held his rocket launcher on his shoulder but did not fire. Maybe he could use it to knockdown an airplane or something else later, but he knew he couldn’t shoot at that cloud, not if there was the slightest chance it could be the prophet Jesus—or any other prophet, for that matter. It was time to stand up for what he believed in.
Saeed looked on with anticipation as the missiles rocketed to their target, shouting, “Allah is great!”
“Holy shit,” shouted the skipper as white plumes of smoke shot into the air off the top of the cargo ship and sizzled straight for the cloud. “I think those are rockets.”
White smoke obscured the top of the cargo ship as the SAMs were launched right towards their feet.
“Look out,” shouted Conrad, ducking.
“What the hell,” Logan yelled, twisting her body as the missiles came at them.
Saeed’s exhilaration ended when he saw his precious SAMs fly into the sky, change direction, and head straight back for his ship.
“What happened?” shouted the cargo ship’s captain.
Saeed’s eyes were wide and his mouth agape. Would this count as martyrdom? he wondered. The stray surface-to-air missiles whistled by the bridge of the massive ship on the port and starboard sides. He spun around to watch his beloved spears of death sharply redirect and pass harmlessly out to sea. He turned, and his eyes fell upon the most iconic figure in the entire world: The Statue of Liberty.
“I’ll leave you for someone else to blow up,” he muttered under his breath as she stared back at him with an indifferent look. “Bring us into the river full speed,” Saeed shouted over the ship’s radio, gnashing his teeth. “Get as close to the UN building as possible. That is where the cloud is heading.” For a second, he considered blowing up the ship under the cloud, but he was too far from the detonator to do that in time.
“Ram the ship into that bridge,” Saeed shouted.
“We will lose the pilothouse,” the captain complained.
“So be it, I will see you in heaven,” Saeed yelled before running for the decks below.
The Brooklyn Bridge was jammed with cars and people. It was too low for the massive cargo ship at any tide. Everyone on the bridge had eyes on the cloud passing overhead.
Logan and Conrad were at a loss for words. During the onslaught of missiles, Yahweh and Numen never even moved a muscle. Before either of them could say a word, Numen tapped one of the seven green keys on his right hand and the swarm of cherubim flew toward the cargo ship.
When the first baby flew past, Yusef was so shocked he almost forgot what he was doing.
The people on the massive Brooklyn Bridge had all rushed to one side to watch the cloud. Then, people began noticing the cargo ship ramming the bridge. Shouts of “Look-out!” spread through the crowd. The mob began to stampede as the ship slammed into the underbelly of the ancient archway.
The impact shook the ship stem to stern. The nineteenth-century structure did not even vibrate. Between the ship and the bridge appeared a line of cherubim with their tiny arms outstretched, pushing against the ship with massive gravitational force. The ship began to crack from the cherubim repulsor beams, and the top row of containers crashed off to the sides like a giant deck of cards. The onlooking crowds could see panicking jihadists trying to scramble out of the containers like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Yusef was paralyzed with fear as he got knocked over the edge of the cargo ship. On his way down, a baby flew to him. Hovering at Yusef’s side as his body flailed through the air, the baby spoke gently in Yusef’s native tongue: “Heaven waits for you.”
“Am I dying?” Yusef gasped with his last breath to the little angel, just before he hit the water and blacked out.
Saeed watched from the main deck as the cargo ship’s pilothouse snapped off. He had expected more damage to Satan’s landmark, but already fixed his gaze on his next target, the Manhattan Bridge. He didn’t need his crew anymore. The bow of the ship was already pointed in the ri
ght direction, and nothing could stop him now. He had stowed 666,000 metric tons of ammonium nitrate mixed with diesel oil inside the cargo containers. It would ignite the biggest fireball since the Texas City Disaster.
With all the people packed around the riverfront to see the cloud of the false prophet, he would make a name for himself that would even surpass Osama Bin Laden’s. Saeed stood at the bow, as his crumbling ship careened towards the next bridge.
The captain had scrambled out of the pilothouse alive behind Saeed as the top of the ship was scraped off like icing on a cake. He yelled, “It will not be deep enough for us to reach the next bridge. Navigation is out. We cannot straighten out our turn.”
“Good, when we hit ground, we will live forever in paradise. Allah is great.” shouted Saeed, holding the remote detonator in his hand.
The ship surged and rumbled as it plowed the bottom of the channel. The movement slammed Saeed’s body to the deck, and he slid on his face for several meters as the remote detonator shot out of his hand.
Saeed’s forehead bounced off the deck; blood gushed from his broken nose and lacerated face, he screamed and shook his fist at Satan’s skyline. He rushed to the detonator resting at the edge of the ship, ready to fall overboard. As one hand grasped the detonator, the grounding vessel shuddered to a halt. He felt himself slip over the side of the ship and knew this was a final gift from Allah. Falling, he pushed the detonator button with an enormous smile smeared in blood across his bearded crazed face.
The deck of the container ship erupted into the largest fireball seen since Hiroshima or Nagasaki. The concussive wave spread out in every direction and then straight up into the air like a gigantic blow torch. It looked like a volcano had erupted in the middle of the East River.