The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1)

by P. J. Day

  The wind howled like a beast in agony. “Look,” yelled a child in the crowd, pointing toward the sky behind him. The low-hanging dual layer of clouds, one darker than the one below, spawned a collection of distended whirling funnels. They tapped the tops of the buildings with a delicate grace, sending some of the spectators running back inside their buildings. The clouds from which the funnels descended, looked angry and hateful. Everyone gawked and gasped, as the small funnels converged, creating a powerful tornado which began ripping at the satellite dishes and antennas that lined the rooftops of the skyline overlooking the park. The twister grew exponentially. First, as wide as an entire 20-story building, then as wide as two. It touched ground just north of the park and kicked up the vehicles from the street as if they were made of Styrofoam. Eighteen-wheelers still attached to their containers were thrown against the sides of buildings. Terrified pedestrians who were downwind of the tornado ran toward the gathering. The sounds of twisting metal and the crunching of concrete filled the ears of everyone who came to hear Logan speak, as panic replaced inspiration.

  “Listen,” Logan said, his voice louder than before, thundering across the sea of panicked clamor. “We can still overcome this. It doesn’t have to end.”

  The large twister made it way down one of the narrow streets, the crowd began scattering away from Logan and the oncoming twister.

  “Wait,” Logan pleaded loudly.

  The frenzied swarm fled as some got trampled, others stopped to help those who were getting knocked and pushed to the ground. Amidst the fearful chatter, cackles and chuckles rang from the center of the pandemonium. Even though they weren’t supernaturally loud, the sounds were out of place and caught Logan’s attention as well as those who were around the hyenic outbursts. In the middle of the sea of humanity, stood Paolo dancing and prancing in a pink tutu, with a multi-colored parasol, and Cindy, following suit, holding a pair of cymbals in her hands, which she bashed together with comic vigor, while wearing a red felt fez on her head. Their actions caught the attention of a young boy who first flashed a smile, then laughed, but the adults didn’t stop and yanked the boy by the arm. Logan noticed what they were doing and recognized their actions immediately. A feeling of joviality overtook him. Warmth overwhelmed him. Mother. “Everyone stop,” Logan boomed. “Tell jokes, make the person next to you laugh.”

  Mirabel was very loyal to Logan, even staying at his side during the impending doom that swirled before them. She was confused at first, but if Logan Drake asked them to be humorous in the middle of a crisis, who was she to question it? She tucked in her arms and pinched her hands close to her chest and hopped around like a bunny, compelling a group of little girls with long, silky-straight, black hair to giggle nonstop. A sweaty and tired Keelen Grant joined in on the hopping and wiggled her nose as if she smelled around for a delectable patch of fresh grass. As expected, the children, who had an amazing ability to disregard the most heinous of events to appreciate a moment of slapstick, burst into laughter.

  “What are you doing?” Mirabel asked Keelen.

  “Hopping around like a bunny.”

  “I’m a T-Rex, not a bunny. Didn’t you hear the growl?”

  “I thought that was the sound bunnies make,” Keelen said, eyeing the oncoming twister.

  “Rabbits don’t make sounds, do they?”

  A clear, glass dome burst from within the crowd’s center, next to where a wildly dressed

  Paolo and Cindy danced like fools. Thalia grew powerful as she absorbed the laughter, particularly the sincere and pure glee that came from the children. The dome reverberated outward and did not cease its growth until it shielded everyone who stood at the outer edges of the park. People who scrambled away and spilled out onto the surrounding streets, made their way back and squeezed themselves inside the protective bubble. As the twister approached, all eyes stared in fright as the dome shielded them from airborne tires, shards of glass as long as spears, and pieces of indistinct metal.

  Fisker told his men to stay put. “Stand firm,” he said. “The tornado is heading away from us.”

  “What is going on down there?” asked one of the shooters, as the wind drowned out the consonants in his words.

  “Focus,” Fisker yelled. “Keep your eye on Logan.”

  By news estimates, there were over 100,000 people gathered at McArthur Park, every one of them now under the protection of Thalia’s shield. Logan ran toward the wondrous woman who glowed as if she were powered by the city’s power grid. Keelen, not long behind, did her best to remain calm and collected, as she witnessed an incomprehensible miracle. She neared the motley crew at the center of the dry lake and then made eye contact with the petite girl dressed in the silly attire who held the cymbals at her side. “Cindy?” she asked loudly, everyone around her parted, letting her reach her friend unobstructed.

  “Keelen?” Cindy replied, with elation. She dropped the cymbals from her hands and rushed Keelen with open arms. They connected in the middle of the dry lake like two long-lost sisters who hadn’t seen each other since the beginning of some decade-long war, even though it had only been two days since they’d last talked.

  Keelen smothered Cindy’s cheeks with both hands. “I thought I lost you.”

  “Me, too. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Cindy said, as tears cascaded down her grimed cheeks. “I told you what I found in Raffi’s shop would lead to something. I told you. This is all fate, Keelen. You and I, Logan, Thalia...this was all pre-planned.”

  Keelen shook her head. “Everything is falling apart though. Logan is something bigger than we thought, but he can’t stop the tornadoes and the earthquakes,” Keelen said, excitedly pointing toward the sky. “Look...look at the clouds...the redness between the clouds...something big is happening. I am so scared.”

  “Don’t...we’re winning, Keelen,” Cindy said with a grin that exuded cultish charm. “Look what Thalia is doing.”

  Logan jogged past Keelen and Cindy, and approached Paolo. “Where’d you find her?”

  “She was in Shia Labeouf’s house in Beverly Hills.”

  “The actor? He was the Kronotos?”

  Paolo nodded.

  Thalia kneeled on the ground, hands on her thighs, head pointing toward the sky. She concentrated deeply, using all her energy to uphold the protective ethereal dome. She knew deep inside that this was her last stand. The pure laughter of the young was the last shot of consecrated adrenaline that she could gather and harness. Now, it was a race between her life force and the monstrous tornado that was still whirling with devilish force right above everyone’s heads.

  “Mother?” cried Logan. “It’s me, your son.”

  She did not reply.

  “Let her focus, Logan,” said Paolo.

  Cindy walked up to Logan and placed her hand on his shoulder. “She needs more. This dome won’t hold up much longer.”

  Logan flashed Cindy a look of agreement. He stood up and hurriedly sidestepped in circles, drawing everyone’s attention. “Make each other laugh. Now,” he bellowed. “I know it’s hard to do in a time of crisis, but trust me, do what it takes to make the person next to you chuckle, laugh or giggle.”

  A mass of jokes commenced. Punchlines flew through the air—some in Spanish and some in Korean. Some bawdy, some racist, others as clean and corny as the ones you find etched at the end of Popsicle sticks. Others resorted to slapstick in their routines. Pratfalls, silly sounds, and feigning punches. Some laughed, others tried to, as they remained terrified by the happenings outside the dome. But it was enough. Thalia spurted out another glow. The last glow. The one that was able to hold of what was left of the large tornado, which managed to sprout through divine intervention but ultimately was no match for the cool ocean current that streamed in from Alaska, and which usually kept Los Angeles twister-free, year-round.

  Thalia’s body limped flatly to the ground and began to convulse. The blue gleam in her eyes dissipated. The white in her eyes was then covered
by a black deadness that had spread from the center of her pupils. Logan lowered himself over his mother and held her against his chest. “Mother...I thought...please, stay with me...” he said, in a panic, with the gut-wrenching realization that she was somehow still alive but dying in front of his eyes.

  She gasped for air but was able to express a measure of coherence. “Son...I see you...you’re beautiful.”

  “Mother, stay with me. I need you.”

  “They took my gifts, Theolodus.”

  “I know. Mother, please. We need your protection. I need more time. We all need more time.”

  “I can’t, son. My death is destiny, but you are Prophecy...fulfill, as I am now fulfilled.”

  Cindy kneeled down and held Thalia’s hand. She turned to Logan. “Logan, let everyone know. Empower them.”

  Logan scowled up at Fisker before opening his dry lips. While on his knees, he held his dying mother in his arms and began to glow—a pleasant byproduct of two supernatural creatures connecting on the physical but subservient plane. “Listen to me,” he implored the audience. “You can reject your own destruction, but you need to dive deeply into your guts, not just you, but everyone. It is as simple as love for all mankind. I know it sounds cliché, but Adonai, who is the most powerful god overseeing our dimension, is dependent on division, lust, envy, greed. Adonai used my mother to gain access to entertainment, the arts, film, music, Hollywood, so he could influence you with decadence, all the while telling you to follow rules that are damn near impossible to follow because you are flawed creatures. So, you must reject classism, racism, no more of this 1% or 99%. Forgive your enemies, even the ones who have done you wrong. Love them. Care for them. Don’t be tempted by this divine lottery. Who among you is ready to reject the love for your children, your parents, your friends, and your families for a remote chance at everlasting life? This is the truth, there is a dimension between Earth and the heavens, what many of you call purgatory. Your loved ones are waiting for you there, but this is what Adonai is fighting to get access to. They, the ones in the heavens, need your souls to continue their existence. You are ripe for absorption. Think about what I just revealed to you.”

  Logan’s words carried up toward Fisker. In frustration, he turned around and bent down and attempted to snatch the sniper rifle from the prone agent. The rifleman tucked the gun underneath his chest. He peered into Fisker’s eyes and said, “Hey, is what this guy saying true?”

  After witnessing the paranormal pyrotechnics below and hearing the Logan’s earth-shattering words, the other agents accosted Fisker. “Who is this guy? Why are we trying to assassinate him?”

  “It doesn’t matter, you need to follow through with your orders,” Fisker yelled. “Now hand me the rifle.”

  “I don’t want to be absorbed...I want to continue seeing my wife,” said the rifleman, as he stood up firmly grasping his rifle and stepping away from Fisker. “I got kids, man.”

  “Well, if you listened to what your clergyman, priest, rabbi has been saying and following, then the fear of separation from your families shouldn’t be a concern,” said Fisker.

  “But what they say is all different,” said the sniper. “They all contradict each other.”

  “Last time I ask,” threatened Fisker. “Give me the rifle.”

  “No,” said the sniper. The other agents surrounded Fisker and rigidly stood their ground.

  While Fisker confronted his new found trouble, below, Logan stood up and stared intensely into Cindy’s eyes. “Comfort my mother,” he said. “Look after her. Be at her side, please.”

  Confused, Cindy responded, “Wait, where are you going?”

  Logan placed Thalia on the ground. There was a hypnotized look on his face as he walked away from the group.

  Up on the rooftop, Fisker backpedaled toward the ledge as the agents encroached upon him in defiance. He barked, “I’m your superior in more ways than one. If you wish to live your last days in peace and see your families one last time, I advise you stand down.”

  “Who are you?” asked one of the agents. “Why do you want us to kill that young man? Just where are the orders coming from?”

  Fisker sensed the precipice behind him. He never felt threatened, but it was his duty to lead these men, but protecting the Prophecy took precedence over everything. Logan had to be silenced. For the sake of Caeli’s survivability, the demigod’s revelation had to be squashed. If hardened men, who were loyal to the department, loyal to his leadership, were converted by Logan’s message, the threat to subvert the Prophecy was now reality. Fisker revealed his majestic and feathered wings to the agents. The men staggered backward to the ground. “Hand me the rifle,” Fisker demanded.

  “No,” yelled the sniper. “I don’t know what you are. This isn’t right.”

  Fisker snarled, “I gave you fair warning.” He stretched out his arm and the Remington rifle pulled away from the sniper’s arm and floated toward his hand. The men’s eyes popped with terror. Collectively, the group’s instincts for survival overcame them and they rushed the revealed angel. Fisker pulled his arms and shoulders back and then threw his chest and wings forward with insurmountable strength and power. The manufactured gale-force wind picked up the men off their feet, hurled them through the air, and finally plunged them toward their deaths, 18 stories below. Fisker lifted the sniper rifle off the ground and faced the gathering below. He peered through the scope, and with a trembling hand, did his best to adjust the aim.

  “Keelen?” Logan called, calmly waving his hand toward her.

  She approached him and offered her hand and felt the coldness of his touch. He gripped them tightly and peered into her eyes with tranquility and strength. Eyes narrowed and without motion, Logan said, “I love you, Keelen Grant. I always have and always will.”

  “What? Why are you saying this to me now?”

  Fisker placed the crosshairs squarely on the back of Keelen’s head. The bullet could pass through her skull and penetrate Logan’s forehead after it passed through hers. It was just a matter of timing and dependent on the synchronicity of breath and a lull in the wind, he thought.

  Logan placed his hand on Keelen’s cheek and said, “The reason I came back down to Earth was to find you. I met you back during the great shift, when our reign was crushed under Constantine’s rule. Your soul was renewed, but I was greatly saddened when we met again and you didn’t remember me. We had a child, Keelen, and our progeny still lives on to today. You just don’t know it and it breaks my heart that you don’t know what’s happening.”

  Keelen’s face tightened. Her eyes watered with confusion, sadness and dread. She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want you to remember how much you used to love me.”

  “But I love you now.”

  “Not like you used to.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember our past,” Keelen said. “I’m just trying to survive. I don’t know if what you’re saying is true.”

  “There is a block in your mind. Everyone has it. It’s what stops everyone from remembering their pasts.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Logan glanced up and hurried the words that came out of his mouth. “You humans are born with double the connections...neurons...then as you get older, they dry up. There is a way to regenerate them and also make sure all of you are born with these neurons intact for the rest of your lives.”

  “So, you’re saying there is a way I can remember my past life?”

  Logan’s eyes widened. He put his hand on Keelen’s shoulder and pushed her to the ground.

  Keelen landed softly on her behind and yelled at Logan, “Why are you shoving me away?”

  “I love you, Buttons.”

  The heavy wind that kicked up dirt and dust into the eyes of the protestors and whose gusts were a fertile genesis for tornadoes, ceased abruptly. A sense of calm washed over the chatter, as an eerie silence permeated the city. Everyone stared at each other in a moment of
quietude, and were confused at the sudden bout of serenity. A cracking sound tore through the silence, like a compressed, echoing thunderclap that startled everyone within earshot. Logan’s head snapped backward, violently. Blood and small chunks of flesh burst in the opposite direction of his uncontrolled momentum. His rigid stance gave way to languid, rag-doll physics as his body collapsed gracefully onto the torn and stomped grassy floor.

  Keelen screamed and threw herself down to the ground, blanketing his inert body from what she thought, was the next shot. Among the gasps, observers within the crowd pointed toward the Quest Lending Building, where a silhouette of a thin man, with abnormally large shoulders, stood staring down at them. In shock, Keelen breathed rapidly and checked Logan’s body for a bullet hole. She worked her way up from his leg, to his torso, then finally, his head. She shrieked and began to wail when she realized that a piece of Logan’s head, where his forehead met his scalp, was completely blown off. Blood and brain matter mixed into his hair, but his face was intact and tranquil. “Logan,” she screamed, tapping him on his cheek. “Logan...goddammit...sweetie, please say something.”

  Realizing Logan had been struck, Cindy immediately crouched beside Keelen and assisted her in whatever way she could. Paolo stood over them with the pale goddess in his arms, his eyes protruding from their sockets, adrenaline filling his veins. “We need to move...they’re firing on us,” he yelled.

  Like a panicked megafauna stampede on the savannah, the large crowd raced away from the downed demigod, once it was determined where the bullet came from. Chaos spilled onto the streets. Women cried and men yelled and the shrill screams from children tore through the once-pleasant gathering like the three-inch bullet that had shredded Logan’s skull. Keelen scanned her surroundings in quick bursts. She tugged at strangers’ pants as they zoomed right past her. None stopped. “Keelen, we need to leave now,” said Paolo. “I can’t carry both of them...we have to leave Logan behind. His wound...his wound looks...he’s not going to make it...I’m sorry.”