by David Beers
“Each city not under siege is less than 10,000.”
“So population wise, what percentage is actually being attacked?”
“Ninety.”
The First tried to concentrate on his breathing, wanting to remove all extraneous thoughts from his mind. The people falling from buildings. Those staring up at a black SkyLight, red blood pumping from their mouths while their hands held red holes in their stomachs. He needed to think, to get some understanding of what was happening.
“We never believed,” someone said.
The First Priest didn’t look up. He didn’t want to hear the words, but he couldn’t push them away. Because they were true. The First Priest had lived his entire life without worrying about the Black; all of them had, and now that it was here, they were completely unprepared.
“We always thought we had it under control, that we would win if it came again. We’re not going to though, are we? This is the end.”
The Disciple sat in another motel room, the television on in front of him. The girl was bound, though unconscious on the bed. He didn’t need to tie up the man, and so made no effort to. The Disciple wasn’t concerned about him; only the girl mattered. Twelve hours had passed since the Disciple took them both, and the girl still hadn’t awakened.
She was alive, though.
The Disciple remembered his instructions well.
The High Priest wants to study her brain.
Her brain could still be studied as long as she was breathing. The High Priest wanted to study it while still connected.
The Disciple was still in the Old World, and actually preferred it to the True Faith, this television to the holographs he usually looked at. It was simpler here, and he appreciated such simplicity. It didn’t bother the Disciple to think this; he felt none of the usual compunction that others did when thinking something else better than their own Ministry. His faith was absolute, so appreciating something else meant no ill will toward his allegiances. If asked, he would have said the same to the High Priest.
The television—what the Old World called the box in front of him—showed the Disciple that he’d been right. He’d seen the gray light, and he knew the Black’s history better than anyone on Earth. Perhaps better than the High Priest himself. The gray static trumpeted the coming apocalypse, and the television revealed exactly that.
The Disciple had just finished seeing a cameraman shot in the face. The blood had splattered the camera lens, and then he watched as the world shifted, the camera falling to the ground and going black.
He stared at the screen, waiting for something else to show up. Rogan understood there would always be more destruction on this small box. Even if it paused for only a moment, more would show up.
The Disciple was biding his time, not wanting to venture out into the world with such mayhem happening. His mission was simple, but this violence complicated things. He had to safely transfer his prisoner back to the First Priest, and getting a transport now would be harder. The Black was returning, and Its death spreading. If this girl was the weapon, as he thought she was, then the Black’s followers would be searching for her.
The Disciple waited for instructions from the First Priest. Until they came, he would watch the box and ensure nothing happened to the two people he held captive.
The Disciple didn’t worry about the girl waking up, but that was only because of his genetics. Any rational creature, especially one with his knowledge, would have killed her or immediately left. Waiting around for the woman to wake was surely a death sentence, but the Disciple didn’t concern himself with such things. If she awoke, he would do his best to complete his mission, but other than that he couldn’t do much else.
“What are you?” The man asked from his place on the bed.
The Disciple knew his name: Rhett Scoble. The man’s nanotech told Rogan everything he needed to know, and what it didn’t say, the weapon on the bed filled in. There were black spots in Scoble’s nanotech, things the Disciple couldn’t read, but they made sense once associated with the Black. The Damned all tried to hide their past, but Rogan didn’t need to know anything else now. Rhett Scoble would go before the First Council.
“Can you hear me?” Scoble asked. “What are you? You’re not human. Not like any human I’ve ever seen.”
The Disciple didn’t glance over, but watched as the television turned back on.
“You’re from the True Faith? I can sense your nanotech, but it’s different. It’s not like mine or anyone else’s.”
The Disciple did turn his head slightly at that, because no one should be able to sense anything about him. His nanotech was unnoticeable to the untrained, passing a 32 panel test to ensure he appeared normal.
“How do you know?” the Disciple whispered.
The man smiled, then quickly grimaced. His shoulder was bandaged and the blood staunched, but the Disciple had done nothing to help with the pain. The bullet was still lodged inside.
“My faith in Corinth tells me,” Scoble said.
The Disciple looked back at the television.
“What do you want with her? To kill her?”
Silence.
“You should. That’s what I was here for. You could kill her and then me if you want. I’m fine with that, as long as she dies.”
The Disciple could have closed the man’s mouth, but decided not to. Instead, he ignored him, understanding that anything he might say would be only lies. Kill her. Save her. Kill him. Raise him to Corinth. It was all the same to the Disciple. His mission wouldn’t change.
Disciple, the First Priest’s nanotech was connecting with Rogan’s.
The Disciple felt no emotion at it, only a sense of rightness, as if he was made for these types of connections.
Yes, your Holy. I’m here.
You see what is happening? the First Priest asked.
Yes. I do.
The High Priest is asking to speak directly with you.
“You’re talking to someone, aren’t you?” the man on the floor said.
The Disciple realized his eyes had narrowed a bit at the First Priest’s last statement. He relaxed his face.
Certainly, your Holiness. When?
We can’t waste any time. Contact him now. I take it you haven’t done this before?
No, Rogan said.
It may take time. The High Priest is very busy, but he’ll eventually respond. Your job is to wait until he returns contact.
Yes, your Holiness. We didn’t have a lot of time to speak during our last connection, but I took someone else from the motel. They’re from the True Faith, and were there for the woman too. I’m keeping him alive until you determine a better course of action.
What’s his name?
Rhett Scoble, the Disciple answered.
Okay. Tell the High Priest. He will direct you in that matter. Report back to me when you’re done, the First said.
Yes, my Holy, the Disciple answered.
The connection ended and the Disciple immediately broadcasted the High Priest’s code. He’d never done it before, but just as he didn’t feel fear sitting in the same room with the apocalypse, he felt no fear in contacting the High. It was an honor, one that very few Disciples were ever blessed with.
“Who were you talking to?” Scoble asked. “A Priest, I’m sure? What are they telling you to do about all this? If you just listened to me, you’d be way ahead of them. Kill her. Kill me. Then take the next transport back home.”
The Disciple heeded nothing the liar said. He sat and waited, his nanotech ready for a response.
An hour turned into two, the Disciple not even shifting in his chair. He didn’t mind the wait, would—truth be told—wait in that position forever if the High Priest demanded it. If the High Priest asked, he would watch the world’s destruction on the box in front of him until it reached his own doorstep.
In the third hour, he felt the High Priest’s nano connecting with his own.
A first, and something very differ
ent for him. The Disciple, above all others, understood nanotechnology. He understood it intimately, because he could control not only his own, but all others as well.
This person’s, this Priest’s, was different. Even from his own.
He felt a sense of calm that drove deeper than usual, and somehow, the Priest’s nanotech felt old. Ancient. The Disciple had encountered nanotech throughout his life, both in training and since gaining Discipleship, and the underlying code was always the same. Each person’s nanotech may vary, but what wrote it didn’t—the language. Except for this time. The underlying language was similar, but not the exact same.
We give thanks, the High Priest said.
We give thanks, the Disciple repeated, letting go of his initial impressions and focusing on the task at hand. Your Holiness, it is an honor.
No, the honor is mine, the High Priest said. You have done a great deed for Corinth, His people, and all of mankind. I only wish they could thank you for it.
I serve Corinth in all things.
I received a message from my First Priest that you have also captured another True Faith member. Someone perhaps with the Blood of the Damned in them?
Yes, your Holiness, the Disciple said. He was in the motel room.
Has he said anything since he’s been with you?
Lies, I’m sure, the Disciple answered. He says that I should kill her and him.
Perhaps lies, but perhaps not. The Black will use both truth and deception to ensure Its arrival.
The Disciple sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling none of the awkwardness that others might have. He was content to keep still and wait quietly, if the High Priest wanted such.
My Disciple, I want you to come to me. I want you to bring the woman—this weapon. Can you do that?
Yes, Most Holy. Where am I to go?
The Disciple heard the High Priest’s chuckle. I am actually in the One Path’s Ministry. I will instruct your nanotech how to get here, if that’s permissible?
Of course, my Holy.
Good. You should be receiving it now.
The Disciple waited a second, his nanotech taking in the directions.
How long will it take you to arrive?
Under current conditions? The Disciple asked. Is it necessary that both arrive alive?
The man, no. The woman, yes, the High Priest answered.
I can be there in three days ensuring she lives, with no guarantee on him.
Another long pause, this one stretching out for 10 minutes. The Disciple didn’t move.
I wonder if there will be much of this world left by then? Do you think so?
I don’t know, my Holy.
I know, but try. What do you think? the High Priest asked.
I think the world will exist as long as Corinth wills it.
Then we must hope He continues willing it. Three days then, and if you can be quicker, do so.
Rhett had watched the creature for hours on end, and he held no doubt that it was something other than human. Not like the ones here in the Old World, nor Rhett—full of True Faith technology. His movements, his demeanor … all were slightly off, and Rhett thought his nanotech was too.
He wasn’t completely guessing either; David had trained Rhett deeply on nanotech. It was the only way they could mask Rhett’s own, creating the opportunity for him to travel and convert others. He sensed something different from this man, and the slight look he’d given Rhett showed he was right.
Rhett didn’t want anyone from the compound contacting him, though he couldn’t stop them. He knew some of what this creature could do, and any communication right now could put David at risk. Yet, he wasn’t able to reach out and tell them to remain silent—because even then, he thought this creature would hear him.
He just had to wait. And hope.
The creature ignored Rhett, and Rhett was fine with it because his mind was mostly engrossed with the pain inflaming his shoulder. He’d never been shot before—such weapons didn’t even exist in the True Faith, but now he had a bullet lodged in his left shoulder, and the creature here didn’t seem too concerned with removing it.
Everything wasn’t bad, though, and two things told Rhett that. The first, his blood had changed. It didn’t feel ‘normal’, nor was it ‘itching’ as it did when David got to work. No, this was it, the Summoning. Something had happened at the compound, probably something to do with the traitor, and David had launched his attack.
And the television was the second thing to tell him that. The people who had taken David’s blood now took up his war cry.
Death filled the TV screen, striking fear into every single human alive. At least everyone without David’s blood. Twenty years of careful planning, of searching, of converting. And his followers would continue killing, too. They would keep going like rabid dogs, even though it was all misdirection. The Ministries would focus on this violence, just as they had with Veritros.
They thought these followers were simply rabid animals, looking to kill anyone who smelled differently.
Rhett chuckled, then the pain quickly shut it down.
No chuckling, not with the bullet.
It hurt to speak as well, but Rhett tried. He was okay with dying now, if it meant that the woman died too. He knew that David told him to bring her back, but Rhett didn’t think that was possible any longer. The creature here, holding him and this woman, he was from the True Faith’s Ministry—probably directly from the High Priest. There was no escape.
Rhett had seen what the woman was capable of, as well. He’d thought only David possessed such power, but he watched it rip from that woman without a moment’s hesitation. Rhett wouldn’t pretend to know the Unformed’s thoughts, nor the role this woman played in them, but the first chance he saw, he’d kill her. Even if it meant his own death.
Perhaps he would get the chance to die as Stellan had. In service for the Unformed.
The creature was talking to someone now, Rhett was sure of that. He was using his nanotech, sitting entirely too still for any human.
Rhett said a few things, none of them that serious—just trying to interrupt if at all possible. His fate was nearly sealed, but he would die doing his best to disrupt whatever he could.
He closed his eyes and blocked out the Summoning on the television.
He’d failed in his mission, but that didn’t mean he had to fail David completely. This woman would die. That’s what he had to concentrate on. Rhett would die, too, but he was okay with it.
Die for the Unformed. That’s what he had signed up for, and that’s what he was going to do.
Rebecca, just keep silent, he thought. Don’t reach out to me. Don’t do anything. Let me finish this side.
And then he prayed to his God, the Unformed. If you hear me, give me a chance to kill this girl. Just one.
Twenty-Six
The room was quiet and David reflected upon the magnitude of what was happening. The world had changed in 24 hours. Had he imagined it would be like this? Or had he thought it would be less?
His sister, Rebecca, sat on the couch in front of him, her hand over her mouth. Christine had taken a seat on the chair.
The two of them were staring at the holograph in front of them. Much of the True Faith’s official communication had died, but there were still rogue channels that could be found.
Right now, the two of them stared at a live image of a city a few thousand miles north. They viewed the city through a camera that stood outside, about half a mile above. Flames roared inside. People fled the city hours ago, but now no one moved. Not even David’s own followers.
“We’re not prepared for this,” Christine said.
David nodded, but said nothing, only stared at the holograph.
“The plan was,” Christine continued, “that the three of us, Rebecca, Rhett, and I would lead the charge. We would have direct communication with all of this, and now … there’s no one, David.”
She didn’t turn to look at him; none of them coul
d pull away from the scene in front of them.
David heard Christine’s concern, though. Seeing her face wouldn’t help explain the situation’s gravity any better.
“What the hell are we going to do?” Rebecca asked.
“Things have changed,” David said.
“Yeah, no fucking kidding,” Christine responded.
David finally broke away from the holograph and looked at her.
“Sorry,” she said, casting her eyes to the floor.
David held his gaze on her for a second longer before turning away. “This isn’t what I wanted, clearly, but there wasn’t a lot of choice when those transports arrived. Or have you both forgotten?”
Neither said anything, and David let the anger inside him cool just a bit. He could rage against them, but what good would it do right now? With all this happening outside the compound, he needed them more than ever.
“Where’s Rhett?” Rebecca asked.
It was the first time anyone had mentioned him, though it wasn’t the first time David had thought of him. There simply hadn’t been time to deal with that yet. There wasn’t time to deal with any of this, yet the questions kept coming.
“Okay, both of you listen to me. There’s too much happening right now for you two to keep on with the complaints and questions. We have to organize, and we have to do it quickly. Twenty-four hours without any action is far too long, and you both know it.”
David had spent the past day evacuating the compound, sending those closest to him out into the world. They had a skeleton plan, with people given instructions and told to report in as soon as they made it to different areas of the world.
The strategy was the same as Veritros’s had been, only in the end, his was supposed to be more organized. He hadn’t wanted any of this to happen. He had more people, and with a few more years, everything would have happened overnight. The attack, and then the Union.
“Okay, David,” Rebecca said, finally turning from the holograph. “What do we do?”