“C’mere,” she playfully demanded.
Armada inched his way to the nightstand and stood at the edge of the bed. Without so much as one word, he pulled the zipper all the way down the front of his suit and let it fall to the floor.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, pulling back the top sheet and comforter. “We have the same kind of shorts.”
Armada was immediately intoxicated from the sight of Chloe’s exposed flesh. Although she wore her undershirt and shorts to bed, just as he and his brothers had always done, this was their first physical, intimate encounter. Feeling his eyes roaming her body, she quickly drew up the covers, pulling them to her chin.
“Well?” she began, examining her half-naked husband. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
Armada couldn’t move his feet; he stared at the floor.
Suddenly, with an incredible burst of energy, Armada sprang up onto the bed.
“We’re married! We’re married!” he shouted victoriously as he jumped up and down and back and forth from the other bed.
Chloe laughed out loud as he hollered, “I have a wife! I’m a husband! Baby, baby, baby! I’m your husband! Woo-hoo!”
“Shut up, you idiot!” she giggled as he bounced her across the bed. “Armada!”
She sat up and yanked his legs out from underneath him, making him fall backwards off the bed.
“Oh!” she squealed, then covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play?”
Like a lion stalking its prey, Armada slowly crawled onto the foot of the bed.
“I’m gonna getcha!”
Chloe pulled the sheet right up to her nose and did a poor job of containing her giggling.
“Rah!” he roared as he pounced on his bride.
He straddled her and tickled through the sheet while gnawing at her neck, growling as he teasingly devoured her.
Their juvenile wrestling act briskly transitioned into one of deep, passionate kissing, accompanied by curious roaming hands and heavy breathing.
Armada rose up off Chloe, drew down the covers, and climbed in bed. They lay next to each other and neither spoke or touched for a few minutes.
The newlyweds stared up at the ceiling.
Armada leaned to his right and blew out the candle, turning the room completely dark.
Chloe slid her right hand under the sheet ‘til her fingers found his. She gradually scooted her body towards him and pressed herself against his left arm.
Silently, he raised his arm. Chloe rolled onto her right side and gently laid her head on his chest. She relished the simple pleasure of feeling his strong arm wrapped around her as she brought her left hand up to rest on his sternum.
In both her cheek and hand she felt the beating of his heart. Chloe was overjoyed with the sensation of feeling her head rise and fall with each and every breath he took.
Armada bowed and kissed his wife on her head.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Armada.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Armada.”
CHAPTER 29
SPECIAL DELIVERY
Armada abruptly woke up.
Why is it so hot? he thought to himself.
With his right arm wrapped around Chloe’s waist, he opened his eyes and blinked several times. She faced away from him on her left side, and had spooned herself up against his body. He felt the heat radiating from her shoulders and back while listening closely to her breathing; it sounded heavy, congested, and labored. After cautiously removing his right arm, Armada slowly rolled away from his bride and sat up on the edge of their bed.
The digital clock read 7:40 a.m.
‘Three hours?’ he silently complained. ‘I’ve slept for only three hours?’
He picked up the candle and lighter and tiptoed around the foot of the bed to the other side. Armada squeezed the trigger on the lighter and touched it to the candle wick. The concerned groom got down on his knees and brought the brightly burning candle to Chloe’s face.
Armada’s heart sunk as fear and panic ripped through his brain.
Chloe’s chest was bright red. She had beads of perspiration on her upper lip and cheeks, and her hair stuck to her forehead.
He placed the back of his hand against her cheek; she was burning up.
“No, no, no, no!” he whispered.
He sat the candle on the ground and rose to his feet.
As he quickly stepped to the bathroom, Armada’s mind shifted to the last time he saw Titan, his symptoms and appearance.
“Don’t leave me!” he remembered Titan shouting to him.
As he held a clean washcloth under the faucet, Armada could still see Titan standing there in the Nursery Medical Services Facilities. His eyes were red and puffy, his skin was clammy and blotchy, and he had an incredibly high fever.
“I’ll be okay, won’t I? Tell ‘em, Armada! Don’t let ‘em take me!”
The young groom dashed to his wife and crouched down beside her.
He raised the candle with one hand as he tenderly patted the cool cloth on Chloe’s skin. She stirred a bit and rolled over onto her right side. Armada went around the bed, placed the candle on the nightstand, and proceeded to slowly wipe the moist rag across her forehead.
“Hey, baby,” he lowly stated.
Chloe wrinkled up her nose, frowned, and pulled the sheet to her chin.
“Chloe? Baby? How do feel? Can you talk?”
“Mmm!” she moaned, then lethargically mumbled, “Why’s it so hot, baby? I don’t feel good.”
“I know you don’t. I’m gonna go get something for you to eat. Okay?”
Chloe again grunted and scooted closer to him.
“Armada, don’t leave me,” she whined.
“I’m just going to the kitchen. I’ll be back before you know it. But I’m gonna need you to drink some water first.”
Armada stood, hopped to the miniature refrigerator, and grabbed a cold bottle of water.
“C’mon now, just a few small swallows and you can go back to sleep.”
Chloe could hardly sit up on her own.
Armada reached behind her and gently pulled her forward.
“There you go,” he said as he twisted off the cap.
He brought the lip of the bottle to Chloe’s mouth and tipped it back. She struggled to breathe while ingesting the water.
“That’s my girl,” he complimented as he eased her back on the mattress.
Chloe pushed her hand toward the mattress edge and spread her fingers. Armada lightly squeezed her hand and leaned in close.
“Oh, Armada,” she groaned. “Not now. I can’t get sick now. I’ve waited so long for us to be together … this can’t be how it ends.”
Tiny tears began rolling down her cheeks as she spoke. While she was talking, Armada couldn’t stop his mind from flashing back to his best friend’s face.
“That’s why I gotta go find something good for you to eat. We need to figure out how to….”
Unable to finish his last statement, Armada gazed upon his sick bride while forcing himself to hide his fear and quivering chin.
“Do you think it’s my end of cycle?” she asked, peeking up at him.
“No, no,” he fibbed. “We’re just … overwhelmed and tired. So much has happened in the last forty-eight hours that … well, think about it … we haven’t even been married four hours. So … no, I don’t believe it’s your end of cycle. That’s years and years away.”
Chloe reached up and brushed his face with the tips of her fingers, trying desperately to keep a smile on her lips.
“Hurry back, okay? I don’t wanna be alone.”
“Ah, baby. Nothing will ever keep me away from you.”
He leaned over and kissed Chloe’s head.
“Now, try to sleep and I’ll be right back.”
Armada stood, watched Chloe make herself comfortable, and pulled the sheet up over her shoulder. Once she was settled and still, he blew out the candle then took his jumpsuit into the bathroom.
After closing the door, he turned on the lights and pushed down on the sink plunger. He stared at himself in the mirror as he wrung out his undershirt and rinsed it under the cold running water. With his shirt now relatively clean, he flung it over the shower rod to air and drip dry. Armada hurriedly donned his jumpsuit and slipped on his boots without first putting on his socks. Realizing that nobody was going to be seeing him, he determined that it didn’t really matter what he looked like or if his uniform was in order.
He turned off the light, opened the bathroom door, and glanced back at Chloe. Although the room was dark, he could barely see her head from the glowing numbers of the digital clock. After listening to her breathing for a moment, Armada delicately pushed down on the door handle and swung it open. Once out of earshot and in the corridor, he jogged briskly to the atrium and food services facilities.
Titan haunted his memories.
The more he thought about Chloe, her symptoms and sudden decline, the more Titan could be heard. As Armada turned on the lights and entered the dry goods storehouse, he remembered how fearful his best friend had become that fateful day. How similar, he observed, were both Chloe and Titan in their request that they not be left alone. The two had high fevers and sweated profusely, were weak and had pasty skin. Whereas Titan deteriorated rapidly over the course of several days, Chloe had only experienced one or two hours of ill-health.
“Hello?” Armada shouted, peering up into the lights. “Are you there? It’s me!”
His eyes darted from light to light in hopes of receiving a visual response to the open call.
“I really need your help!” he loudly stated. “Chloe’s back in our room … I don’t know if you’re aware of it or if you’re listening … but she got sick all of a sudden … she has a bad fever.”
Not one bulb flickered.
“Please … I’m begging you … please don’t let this be her end of cycle!”
Armada knelt down in the aisle with his head tilted back.
“She’s afraid,” he said with a trembling lip. “I’m afraid. We’ve gone through so much … I don’t know how to go on without her. Please … please, help her … I love her … I need her.”
Armada bowed his head and pressed his fingers firmly against his mouth to suppress his cries. With no acknowledgement to his call and sorrow in his heart, he wiped his eyes and slowly rose up.
He found a rolling three-shelf kitchen cart and swiftly browsed the rows of shelves. The inexperienced shopper gathered a few cans each of different fruits, a few bags of golden raisins, and some jars of apple sauce. After loading a case of bottled water on the bottom shelf of the cart, he went to the aisle with the disposable goods and pulled out plastic utensils, plates, bowls and cups, along with napkins and straws.
As he wheeled the cart to the kitchen entrance, he noticed the clock above the door.
“Eight twenty,” he said.
While crossing the Atrium, he scanned his selections and thought to himself, I gotta figure out a way to submit a request to Eden. I’ll work on that while she’s sleeping.
He left the cart in the hallway to go in and check on his sickly bride. Other than her breathing, Chloe didn’t make a peep.
Fresh from his first solo venture to the grocery store, Armada stealthily rolled the cart into their room and parked it between the chest of drawers and table.
He then sat on the other bed, pulled off his boots, and removed his jumpsuit.
Without a sound, Armada crept to their bed and deftly lowered himself onto the mattress. He pressed the back of his hand to Chloe’s forehead once more and determined she was hotter than a half hour earlier.
Before he had an opportunity to reach for the damp washcloth, the room suddenly burst in bright orange and yellow light. Armada was overjoyed as the orb presented itself again and felt a sense of calm come over him.
The sphere approached Armada and crossed over the bed from the corner.
“I was calling you a few minutes ago,” he whispered as he wiped his wife’s forehead.
The orb passed to his right and hovered between the two beds, but offered no response.
For what felt like an hour, Armada quietly gazed at the apparition until at last he heard the voice confidently declare, “He will show you wonders and perform miracles.”
“He? He who?”
“He has heard you and your desire to have Chloe healed.”
As the orb spoke, it grew and stretched. No longer a miniature, opaque cloud of swirling colors, it now took on a form that appeared almost human.
“Thank you! Thank you!” he excitedly stated, “I just thought….”
“Let not your heart be troubled,” it said, soothingly, “for she is not ill. She is with child. He is changing Chloe and at the end of three days she will be healed.”
Armada’s chin nearly fell to the mattress.
“What? She’s … she’s pregnant?” he exclaimed, “How? We’ve been married less than six hours?”
The glowing mirage continued to expand and grow as it spoke.
“In five months, Chloe will deliver a very special child … a boy … of His design.”
“Five months? Five months?” Armada repeated in amazement. “A natural childbirth in almost half the normal time? That’s impossible!”
“Through Him all things are possible.”
Armada’s mind was awhirl with questions and confusion.
“You will name your son Abdiel, and he will grow to be a powerful leader. He will be a blessing unto you, Chloe, and the world.”
Armada gently combed his fingers through his wife’s hair. He felt himself shaking as his heart beat faster and the saliva in his mouth evaporated. The apparition continued to levitate beside him as he processed the prophetic information.
Not knowing what questions he should be asking, the astonished father-to-be blurted, “What do we do now?”
“Be patient and love one another. He will be watching you, always, and will send me unto you again, soon.”
With that, the shiny mirage disappeared.
By only the light of the alarm clock, Armada slowly and delicately laid himself back in bed and softly wrapped his left arm around Chloe. She was still breathing heavily and her temperature had not gone down. As he maneuvered his legs under the top sheet, her left hand curled up on his chest while he lightly ran his across her shoulder and upper arm.
The questions, confusion, and doubt swirling about in his mind soon gave way to happiness and excitement.
Just prior to closing his eyes to sleep, Armada chuckled, smiled to himself, and whispered, “A boy!”
CHAPTER 30
THE FOUR HORSEMEN
“Does this increase of debris entering Earth’s atmosphere have anything to do with the disappearance of all the satellites?” the reporter shouted.
“What we discovered is that the debris entering our atmosphere is in fact bits and pieces of the missing satellites,” said Goddard Senior Project Manager Chad Sagesur, “and not meteors or asteroids disintegrating and burning up as originally theorized.”
The brood of fact-starved journalists and reporters clamored to capture the attention of the accomplished scientist.
“Dr. Sagesur!” one man yelled mightily. “Does this statement mean that the more than three thousand eyewitness reports and accompanying video clips are all recordings of damaged satellites reentering our atmosphere?”
“That’s exactly what we’re saying.”
“How can that be?” another reporter hollered, waving her hand. “These sightings have occurred for nearly four months all over the world. And none of those are meteors or asteroids?”
“I know it sounds fantastic, but we’ve had teams scattered throughout the country and across the globe analyzing these videos. We’ve successfully determined that where the individuals were, geographically speaking, at what time, on which day, in what direction they were looking … they all correlate, exactly, to the last recorded position of all one hundred sixty
-seven missing satellites.”
“How? How did you verify this?” shouted one woman.
“Well, for one thing, we’ve been sifting through thousands of hours of recorded video footage and tens of thousands of still images from observatories….”
“Which observatories?” she again called out.
“Um … all of them,” Dr. Sagesur proudly stated with a giggle. “For almost four months we’ve been reviewing, examining, and analyzing everything we can get our hands on from more than three hundred observatories. Air-based, space-based, ground-based, subterranean … all of ‘em … we’re receiving mountains of raw data every day. So we have to go through the daily and hourly records for each observatory, down to the minute and second, what direction was each telescope pointed in, what degree, what time, and so on. We’re looking for a speck of dust on a needle in a haystack, and the needle is in constant motion.”
“What evidence did you uncover that brought you to the conclusion that this phenomenon is damaged satellites reentering our atmosphere and not meteors, asteroids, or organic matter?” asked a man seated in front of the podium.
“Yes, I was just about to get to that,” Chad politely replied.
“To begin, with nearly 330 observatories scattered throughout the world, some on the ground, some underground, in space and in the air, we thought we should cross-reference where telescopes were looking at the time of the last recorded position of each satellite. When we did that, we came across four stunning series of pictures and video footage. I want to walk through these one by one and show you why we drew these conclusions.”
The crowd of journalists and intellectuals turned their attention to a massively large video monitor.
“First off,” Dr. Sagesur began, aiming his red laser pointer at the screen, “I’m going to provide you with some technical data, and will then transition to language and vocabulary everyone can relate to. All right … right here, near the center of the image … this large, orange-red star is called Aldebaran, and is the red eye for the bull of the Taurus constellation. This collection of stars, known as the Open Star Cluster of Hyades, is in Taurus, but isn’t part of the constellation. Now, a little more than two months ago, on May ninth, the NASA IRTF at the Mauna Kea Observatory in Hawaii captured the following images at a rate of one every five seconds. Keep your eyes on Aldebaran….”
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