“I honestly don’t know,” I say, looking away from them. “I need to think this through.”
“We understand,” James says. “Unfortunately, time is something we don’t have. We’ll assume that if we don’t hear from you before you leave town with the Principal that you’ve rejected our offer. We won’t approach you again. You should also know, though, that if you work for them, you’ll be on our list of people to take down.”
“Seems like the world is suddenly in a rush,” I tell him.
“I guess so,” he says. “I’m texting you our numbers. If you need to contact us, use those numbers. Also, you can’t tell anyone about this conversation. No one. If you talk to anyone, you put all of our lives at risk, including Stacie’s.”
“I understand,” I say.
As soon as they leave, I pull out my phone. I confirm that the two numbers are in my messages. That’s not what I’m interested in, though. I type out the message, “Urgent! Need to talk to you ASAP! Come by. Do not call!”
I hope Stacie responds. I won’t lie or keep any information from her anymore. She deserves to know the truth.
CHAPTER 24
Decisions
When it comes to decisions, there are four types of people in the world. There are those who gather the facts, make the decision, and have no regrets. On the opposite extreme, there are those who are paralyzed by information and unable to make a decision. Between those two extremes are those who ponder their choices over and over, fearing the regrets they may have, but once having made the decision, they are able to move on. Then there are those who gather information, make the decision, and then ponder the decision over and over, trying not to have any regrets.
There was a time a few weeks ago when I was in the first camp. I gathered information, made my decision, and had no regrets. Over the last few weeks, I find myself struggling with regret so much that I seem now to be in the other extreme—unable to make a decision for fear of regret.
After James and Allison left, it was clear I needed help. That was another reason why I called Stacie. If I had known what I would do to save us all, I would have kept it to myself, but things had changed. I didn’t want to lay this burden on Stacie, but she needs to know. More than that, I need her help.
The first person who enters my room, though, is not Stacie. It is a custodian. His back is turned to me, and he is pulling a bucket with a mop sticking out of it. He moves slowly until he’s clear of the door. He shuts the door, lets the mop handle fall against the wall, and turns slowly toward me. His head is tilted to the side, and he has a slight grin. My scar burns. When I look into his eyes, I scramble back into my bed. It is the creature. The creature I loathe.
Trying to sound confident, I ask, “Why the disguise? I know who you are.”
With a slithering tongue, he responds, “Why indeed?” His body transforms into the gruesome creature I recall. He seems to relish his disgusting form.
“Why are you here? I haven’t done anything wrong,” I say. “I have an agreement with the master, and I plan on carrying it out.”
“To think he would have us someday serve such worthless filth!” he says. “Why you received so much of his love is incomprehensible. To love you over us! You are sick, unable to control yourself. So easily manipulated. So easily led astray. No more value than sheep that wander fields aimlessly looking for their master. I relish your reckoning.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“The master sent me,” he says. “He has an assignment for you. Convenient that he sent me, though. I wanted to personally tell you how much we enjoyed killing Mike. Too bad we didn’t kill the other one. We could have saved you the trouble.”
I am filled with an uncontrollable rage and leap at the creature. Within an instant, he has me clutched by the neck and is pinning me on my back against the bed. His hand squeezes tight around my throat, and I struggle to breathe. He climbs over me, restraining himself from delivering a crushing blow.
“One mistake, and I am your destruction,” he says, loosening his grip on me.
I realize that attacking him is futile, and my abdomen has a shooting pain where the bullet wound is. I allow the rage to settle in my mind. “What did you mean by saving me the trouble?” I ask. “What is it that the master wants of me?”
“You are to kill the Stacie woman,” he says.
I can’t hide the expression on my face. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, you weak and pathetic human.”
“I know you hate me and look forward to my destruction,” I say. My voice shaking. “But I need to understand what the master has asked of me.”
“You are to kill the Stacie woman,” he repeats. “This is your test of loyalty. Who do you really love?”
“How am I supposed to do this?” I ask. “I’m not a killer. I don’t know how to kill. You said it yourself, I’m weak and pathetic.”
He grabs my arm. He turns my hand over and lays out four pills in my palm. “It only takes the powder of one of these capsules to kill her. Like Alexander the Great, it will kill her slowly over a period of about a week. By the time she realizes she needs medical help, it will be too late. The poison is masked, and no one will be able to trace it back to you. It is an ancient brew.”
I stare at the pills, unsure of how I will now get out of this. Out of the corner of my eye I see him smile.
“If you like,” he says, “we can do it a different way. In human form, I can help you break into her apartment, rape her, and slit her throat. Maybe we will get lucky and get her roommate as well.”
He laughs as his body transforms back into the custodian. No sooner is his transformation complete than Stacie enters the room. Fear races through my mind. Could he trap her right here and force me to do it now?
I blurt out, “Stacie, please get the nurse. I have a shooting pain in my leg, and I’m not sure what it is. I’m really worried.”
For a second, Stacie looks at the janitor with a funny expression on her face, and then she bolts out the door. I hear her calling for the nurse in the hallway.
The creature looks at me and makes his way out the door. Before leaving, he turns to me and says, “You know the rules. Be smart and do this. There is no warning. There is no second chance. She dies or I kill you for eternity.”
Another decision. What would the person I was six months ago do? What should the person I am today do? What is the way out? I can’t see any way out. I recall my brain scan. I dismiss it. This is too real to be a vision, to be a dream. Yet I am at a loss for what to do when Stacie and the nurse hurriedly enter.
“Dr. Fields, are you okay? What kind of pain are you feeling?” the nurse asks.
“You’re going to think this is funny,” I say. “I thought I had some tingling in my leg. But my leg had just fallen asleep. I panicked. I’m really sorry. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Okay, but I’m going to check your diagnostics at the nurses station just to make sure everything is fine.”
Stacie is not convinced, however. “What’s going on, Thomas? And I mean what is everything going on? No lies, no omissions. I want to know everything,” she commands.
“You’re a threat to them,” I immediately tell her. Based on her reaction, I don’t think she is prepared for my words. Her brow wrinkles and she sits back in the chair, giving me a confused look.
“What?” she asks.
“You’re a threat, Stacie. You’re a threat to the Principal, and you’re a threat to Lucifer.”
“I don’t understand,” she says.
The realization of everything suddenly hits me. I couldn’t save Mike, and now I’m here with the one person I care about, and I know I can’t save her. Tears run down my cheek. “I’m not sure I can save us, Stacie. I can’t see a way out.”
She wipes away the tears with her hand and gently sets her hand on my arm. “Shh,” she tells me over and over. When I finally stop, she leans her head down a bit and looks up at me, catching my s
tare. “Thomas, you never could save me. That job is finished. Don’t fear for me.”
I can see a tear flowing down her cheek. I realize that she is braver than I and that her only concern is for me. My whole life I have worried only about myself, and here is a woman pouring herself out for me. She perplexes me.
She says, “I told you in your apartment that this isn’t a war you can win by yourself. I will help you fight this, but we both need Jesus. You are up against powers you can’t defeat. Can I quote you a passage?”
I nod.
“Paul told the church in Ephesus, ‘Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.’ Look, you’re living this battle out in a present, tangible way. Most people only see the shadows of this battle, but you are on the front line. What does the Bible say? It doesn’t tell you to gather up your own strength. It says to be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.”
“You’re on the front line too,” I say.
“What?” she asks.
“You told me I was on the front line. I’m telling you that you’re on the front line as well. I just happen to have a clearer vantage point.”
“Clear up my view for me, then. I can handle it. Tell me what’s going on,” she says.
“Where do I begin?” I ask.
“I find the beginning is typically a good spot,” she responds.
“Not in this case. I’ve already told you about my Lucifer encounters, though not everything,” I say. “Let’s start with Dallas. Do you remember my trip to Dallas?”
“Yes. The trip you took before you came over to my apartment,” she replies.
“The organization that sponsored the fund-raiser is a front for a sinister organization bent on controlling the world,” I begin. “I know that might sound like an exaggeration, but it’s not. This organization has infiltrated the top levels of government, business, education, even religious institutions. You name an organization, and they’re there. The money, power, and influence these people have are matched by no other organization. They call themselves the Principal.”
“They want to control the world?” she asks incredulously.
“In short, yes. They want to control all the resources of the world. Their platform is world peace. Sounds harmless, right—world peace. How they want to get there is anything but harmless, though. Ultimately, they want to throw the world into chaos through wars, famine, poverty, religion, and disease, but then they want to be the ones to have all the solutions. They control the means to end poverty. They have the cure for the diseases they launch. They end wars through bribery and force. People will look at them as the peacekeepers of the world. As near as I can tell, this organization has been around for centuries, but it’s only been recently that the playing pieces have aligned for them to make a decisive move toward their goal.”
“Why now?” she asks.
“Think about it like this,” I say. “Imagine there are some people who can live for centuries without aging, like vampires. Over time, they gather resources, infiltrate organizations, rectify mistakes made in the past, etcetera. I’m not saying these guys are vampires, but their organization can go on for generations. It’s been refining itself and positioning itself for a special moment. There’s also a spiritual aspect to this. In my conversations with Lucifer, he feels like it is his time too. We are a lighted match away from total chaos. Think about it. Who has confidence in their country’s economy or the world’s governing bodies? Even Americans no longer trust their government. Do you think the NSA’s spying activities against the American people and subsequent leaks about them were an accident?”
“What does this have to do with you and Dallas?” Stacie asks.
“In Dallas,” I explain, “I was approached by the Principal. That’s who offered me this new position. They want my writing skills. Ultimately, they want me to write their manifesto. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Satan has forced me to join this organization and plans to use me to write his bible. It’s not just my writing skills, though. They both want me because of my anti-Christian apologist attitude, which I’ve communicated throughout my professional life.”
“Satan, I understand,” she says. “But why does the Principal have an anti-Christian bias?”
“They see Christianity as the ultimate threat, because Christians see peace coming only through Jesus and the worship of God,” I say. “They also believe they can change the world through prayer and through the gospel, instead of by force. The only true allegiance for diehard Christians is Jesus. The Principal sees peace coming through themselves and allegiance to their organization. They’re comfortable using whatever means is necessary to push themselves on the public. They will leverage anything. But they can’t leverage Christianity to do that. And if the Bible is accurate, then Satan would want to destroy the Christian church. Doesn’t the Bible say that the gates of hell can’t withstand Christ’s church? Since Satan is behind this organization, or at least I believe he is ultimately, then it makes sense that they want to destroy Christianity. They will use every means at their disposal to do it. I am supposed to be a cog in that machine.”
“So, Dallas . . . ?” she presses.
“In Dallas, they recruited me. I was contemplating the offer when I was put in a no-win situation. They backed me into a corner.”
“How?”
“I went up there with another professor,” I explain. He had put me in touch with the Principal. His name was Andrew. He had been involved on the fringes with the Principal for many years. Andrew, being curious, started to look into the organization. He discovered a lot on his own, but then he hit the mother lode when he found a tablet that belonged to the Principal. He stole it and downloaded the information to a flash drive and printed off some of the material. The Principal discovered that Andrew had the tablet. As far as they were concerned, he now knew too much. On Saturday night in Dallas, in our suite, they killed him and the woman he was with. They killed them both right across from where I was sleeping.”
“Didn’t you call the police?” Stacie interrupts.
“I couldn’t. They set it up to incriminate me. They drugged me that night. I was so out of it that I couldn’t recall anything that happened that night. When I woke up on Sunday, I saw the living room was in shambles. Small puffs of white powder, presumably drugs, were on the coffee table and other places. I don’t use drugs, and I know that Andrew didn’t, either. It had to have been planted there. When I didn’t hear Andrew getting ready that morning, I went into his room. I saw him in bed with a woman he had met that weekend. They were dead. I ran out of there and right into two men from the Principal. They made sure I knew how bad the situation looked for me. They told me they would clean up everything for me, and nobody would ever suspect me of anything, if I asked them to take care of everything. Of course, this also meant that I’d agree to work for them. Or, they said, I could call the police and try to explain the bodies and the drugs and my memory loss.”
I pause to take a swallow of water. “But that’s not the whole story. The day before, Andrew tried to set me up with a woman.” I see Stacie’s brow frown, so I choose my words carefully. “Nothing happened with this woman. We chatted with Andrew and his date, but that was all. I didn’t expect to ever see her again.”
“But you did?” she asks.
“Yes. The day after I returned from Dallas, she came to my office. She was afraid and panicked. She said the Principal was trying to kill her too. She told me they had killed her sister—Andrew’s date—and she needed to get out of town immediately. I told her I would help her. I took some cash out of my investments, and I asked Mike to book her on a plane to Italy. On the day of the shooting, I was going to meet her at a restaurant and give her the m
oney. That’s why I had to leave the apartment when I did.”
“What happened to this woman?” Stacie asked. “Have you seen her since the shooting?”
“She came to visit me today,” I say.
“So she still needs the money,” Stacie suggests.
“This is where it gets more complicated,” I say.
“More complicated?” responds Stacie.
“It’s why I texted you. She showed up here with another man. Turns out she wasn’t some scared little girl. She was undercover FBI. They’ve been monitoring me to see if they can trust me or if I’m already part of the Principal. The whole thing with me helping her get out of the country was a charade to see which way I’d go. Give her the money or turn her over to the Principal.”
“Why did they visit you, then?” Stacie asks. “To warn you about the Principal?”
“In part. But the main reason was to recruit me to work for them. They want someone on the inside who can get information for them.”
“What’s their selling point?” she asks. “Immunity if you help them? Can they protect you?”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I say.
“Who then?” she asks.
“They say that if I join them, they can do a better job of protecting you,” I say.
“I don’t get it,” Stacie says.
“They came across some information that suggests the Principal is planning to kill you,” I say, staring hard at her. “They showed me some surveillance pictures of you during your normal routines. The pictures came from the phone of someone who works for the Principal. They’re watching you.”
“What? Why me?” she asks.
“They perceive you as a threat to them.”
“How could I be a threat?” she asks.
“Two reasons. Both of which are my fault. Do you remember when you and Mike came over to my house for a jog? I had drunk too much and was still in bed . . . There was a woman there . . . You flustered her, and she had to leave the apartment quickly? Apparently, she wasn’t interested in me. She works for the Principal. She was spying on me. The Principal is worried that Andrew gave me the information he found about the organization. She was trying to find it. When you and Mike arrived, the two of you became high risks for them. The FBI believes the Principal is concerned that you may have access to the information Andrew supposedly gave me.”
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