The morning sun broke the clouds on the horizon as the shuttle tram thrust Dave and Tracey Sparks through a blackened tunnel, out of the airport's main concourse and on towards their departure terminal. Tracey was seated, reviewing their itinerary, while David stood watching the scenery go by.
"Listen to this, honey," she said excitedly. "After dinner you will be taken to the Moonlight Salon And Spa for full body massage, mud bath and your choice of steamy sauna or rejuvenating Jacuzzi treatment."
"Sounds exquisite," he replied, more fascinated by the mammoth man-made birds scattered about the tarmac making their preparations for flight than he was what was in store for them later in the evening.
David had always been enamored by technology and was often left in awe when faced with some of mankind's more elaborate creations. The thought of a machine as imposing as the aircraft around him harnessing the incredible power of combustion and subtle intricacies of air flow to actually take to the sky left him feeling giddy.
He watched as a distant giant broke its gravitational tether to the Earth and rose slowly into the air. It was almost majestic in its fury, a trail of super heated exhaust blowing behind it as it defied the laws of physics in its ascent. It banked sharply and elegantly as it climbed, carrying a hundred or more souls into the heavens on its back.
The beauty of the moment seemed lost on the other occupants of the tram as they read their newspapers, sipped their coffee and engaged in mindless small talk amongst themselves. They took the wonder of flight for granted - many of them, the Sparks' included, too young to remember commercial air travel as anything other than the standard of long distance transportation. Some anachronistic sense of boyish wonder was at work in the case of David, however. He found this spectacle mesmerizing and felt a triumphant pride in his species for bringing such marvels into being.
"Now arriving at Blue Terminal, departure gates 75 through 107. Next stop, Green Terminal."
Tracey rose from her seat, folding the resort brochure and stuffing it back into her ridiculously undersized purse.
"Here, honey." She said as she passed the extended handle of their rolling carry-on bag to her new husband. "I'm a little tired. I think I might sleep through the whole flight. How are you feeling?"
"I'm still wired from last night," he explained. "Drank too much coffee trying to chase off those Jell-O shots."
"Mmmm, those were great. What was in the red ones?"
"Hell if I know -- it was strong, whatever it was."
The doors of the tram slid open and a drove of people filed out. Dave and Tracey's joined hands were battered by the rear ends of others trying to hurry to their gates, security having detained most of them for better than an hour and put a crimp in their time table. The search hadn't been quite as invasive and David had imagined, but Tracey had complained that the large woman charged with searching her had squeezed her breasts a bit harder than she would've liked.
When the two of them finally stepped out of the transport a large flat-screen television mounted to the wall caught David's attention.
"In other news this hour," A strikingly beautiful news anchor reported. She looked like a wraith in comparison to Tracey, of course, but standing on her own she was not without her charm. "We have confirmation of at least four tornadoes on the ground in the Greater Chicago area. The governor of Illinois has declared a state of emergency and requested the aid of the National Guard."
"Oh my, Tracey, look!" David pointed to the screen, scenes of a hellacious storm pounding an already decimated urban landscape playing out as the reporter continued.
"The storm has killed at least twenty-six already, most of the deaths having occurred as result of the collapse of an inner-city tenement building in the early hours of the morning."
"Oh no, David!" Tracey said. "Honey, that's in Chicago! Isn't that where those nice old people behind us said they were going?"
"Yeah, it is. I imagine their flight will be cancelled, now."
"I don't remember hearing anything about bad weather on the news last night." Tracey recounted.
"You watched the news last night?" David asked. "I thought you went right to sleep after --"
"No, you went right to sleep after. You always do, honey." She smiled. "It gets me all wound up. I usually have to turn on the TV and drift off slowly."
"Well you'd better believe you won't be watching the news to fall asleep tonight, my dear." He boasted. "In fact, I don't think either of us will be getting any sleep at all."
"--authorities expect the death toll will continue to rise in the aftermath of this unprecedented storm. Meanwhile, authorities in Saudi Arabia are on high alert after the unexplained solar eclipse that took place yesterday afternoon. This follows the mysterious lunar eclipse last week, which occurred on the first night of the holy Muslim month of Ramadan. Our Tom Thompson is on the scene, let's join him live in Saudi Arabia."
"Christ," Dave said as they drew themselves back into the world around them. "Did we fast forward to 2012? It seems like everything is just falling apart."
"Checked the forecast for Jamaica on my Android while that security guard was rubbing your ass," Tracey explained. "Eighty-five today, Ninety tomorrow. Sunshine and blue skies, baby. That's what's in store for us."
Dave surveyed the signs and discovered that their gate was, of course, nearly at the opposite end of the terminal. He stayed behind his wife so that he could clandestinely study his favorite part of her anatomy while they walked. Not even the airliners could outshine his wife's behind in the battle for his attention.
They reached a set of conveyors and stepped on to speed their progress. The belt was divided in two by streaks of yellow paint - one side of the line reading stand and the other marked walk. Dave was content to hold pat on the stand portion and be propelled down the corridor by the machine that had been designed to do just that. Tracey, however, was of a different mentality. She continued in her fast-paced strut despite the fact that she too was on the stand side.
The new Misses Sparks always operated that way. She was bold, always pressing forward; even in the face of adversity. At twenty-five she had done more, seen more and been more than most people twice her age would dream of. She was the breadwinner of the relationship, and the anchor of her own tight-knit family. David considered himself lucky to be accepted into their circle. He was no louse, that much is for sure, but most would say that Tracey was at least two solid rungs above him on the ladder of success in modern day America.
His friends had laughed when he set his sights on her three years ago after spotting her in a nightclub. She wasn't nearly as taken with him as he was with her; not at first, at least. Even David himself wasn't conceited enough to assume courting her would be easy, and it most certainly wasn't. She was worth the effort, however. He had known that from the beginning.
Words couldn't have expressed his joy when his quest had culminated with the sliding of his ring onto her finger. In marrying her, he had been elevated to a class he would likely never have known if left to scale the mountain on his own. She had established herself a member of the social elite and now, by proxy, David was too.
Falling far behind, he stepped over to the walk portion of the belt and raced to catch up to his sweetheart. He reached her just in time for the two of them to step off of the conveyor together, now about half way through their journey to gate 106. They passed several souvenir kiosks and newsstands as they walked, the arousing scent of freshly brewed coffee filling their nostrils as they neared a small cafe.
Beyond the shops the terminal seemed wide open, walls of glass on either side of them allowing the brilliant orange glow of the morning sun to bathe their world in a golden hue. Aircraft were staged at every gate, their wings glistening with dew. Workers scurried about the sleeping giants in orange vests, feeding the monsters their liquid breakfast and grooming them for their busy day.
Upon reaching their gate they sat to rest t
heir weary feet. Most of the seats in this particular portion of the terminal were empty, despite the fact that the LED tickers showed their flight as On Time with a scheduled departure in less than 45 minutes. A television in the distance showed images of men arguing in yet another tense political summit. Looking for a slightly more upbeat distraction, David took a moment to examine the bird that would carry them to paradise before retrieving his laptop from their carry-on bag and plugging in to a power outlet next to his seat.
The device fired up clumsily, Windows trying to figure out which end was up in its characteristic confusion. Eventually it detected an available Wi-Fi connection and linked David up with the rest of the world. He opened his browser and waited as the hourglass spun, expecting his colorful homepage complete with a picture of the swimsuit model of the day to appear. To his dismay, his patience was rewarded with nothing more than an error message over a blank white slate.
A bit disappointed, he typed google.com into the browser bar and tapped the enter key. The hourglass set off spinning again, that deceiving blue bar filling quickly at the bottom of the screen. After a few more seconds he found himself staring down the same jumbled error message.
"What the hell?" He complained.
His troubleshooting skills kicked into high gear as he quickly navigated through several configuration screens. The networking control panel showed a strong connection to the airport's complimentary Wi-Fi service but described the internet beyond as unavailable. With a series of clicks he released his connection and immediately renewed, hoping that would clear his path to the information super-highway. It seemed to, momentarily, as his dashboard went green.
Satisfied with himself, he opened the browser once again. A few more seconds of spinning -- then the error once again.
"Come on!" He barked at the device.
"What's wrong, honey?" Tracey asked through a yawn.
"I don't understand - I have a strong connection, but I can't get out to the web!"
"We'll be boarding soon, sweetie, just put it away."
"Well who is gonna harvest my crops if I don't get online?" He snapped. "Let me try your phone."
Tracey stretched her arms out towards the sky and groaned before reaching into that tiny purse of hers. She kicked her feet up onto the seats across from them and leaned into her man as she handed him the device.
"I'm so tired," she moaned.
Somewhat oblivious, David slid out the phone's keyboard and punched in the address of his desired destination. It mocked him with a chime before displaying a message of failure similar to the one he'd received from his laptop.
"Errrrr!" He growled. "I find it hard to believe that the whole goddamned internet is down!"
"Baby," she objected sweetly. "Forget about your crops. Just relax with me for a minute before we board."
The phone seemed to vibrate briefly, but David quickly realized that it couldn't possibly have been the source of the rumbling he felt in his feet. The sensation passed for a moment but quickly came again, carried for a split second to his hands through his elbows which were planted firmly on the armrests of his seat.
"What was that?" He asked his wife.
"What was what, sweetie?"
"You didn't feel that?"
"Mmmm," she groggily returned. "I didn't feel anything."
Chalking it up to a shift in the building's foundation he tapped the screen to close his browser, only to open it once again for another try. As he typed, the display cut out entirely. More than a bit frustrated now, he pelted the touch panel repeatedly.
"Shit!" He barked through clenched teeth. "Now your battery died!"
"That's impossible," she slurred, her head now buried into his chest. "I charged it all night."
He stuffed the phone back into Tracey's purse and disturbed her a bit as he placed his laptop back in its position. He tapped the keyboard a few times to wake it, but it too gave only a black screen in response. Following the cord from the back of the machine he traced it with his eyes all the way into the wall, where it was still firmly plugged in.
"I don't understand," he said to himself, jiggling the wire to be sure it was properly seated. "Why isn't anything working?"
He folded the computer closed again and looked around the terminal for a moment. To his surprise, the television in the distance seemed to be switched off now as well.
He turned to the side to look at the reception desk just in front of the boarding ramp. An airline employee stood behind the counter, tapping on a keyboard in a manner very similar to that David had just employed. Above the man the LED ticker was dark, no longer conveying any message at all.
"What's happening?" He wondered aloud, a spot on the horizon catching his attention outside. He squinted carefully to make out the shape and studied its trajectory.
Desperate not to believe what he saw he spun around entirely in his seat, jarring Tracey and causing her to nearly slide down to the floor below them.
"David, what are you doing?" She grunted as her husband stood now, staring off into the distance behind her. She looked up to his eyes and saw them filled with a supreme terror she had never known. "Honey?" She asked, trying to summon the energy to stand beside him. "Honey, what's going on?"
"No!" He spun around quickly, staring off in a new direction.. "It can't be!"
"David, you're scaring me!" Tracey yelped as she lifted herself to her feet, her husband's head now darting back and forth in a frenzy. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked out to the tarmac to find what had spooked her man so badly.
Discovering what he had seen made her stomach fall directly into her feet as her jaw dropped agape. The horror was palpable as she watched them -- dropping from the sky like flies sprayed with a toxic mist of Raid.
"Baby," her husband cried out.
"Oh my God!"
Chapter 4
Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ Page 3