The Prophet Box-Set: Books 1-4

by David Beers

  “I’m really rambling, aren’t I? The older I get, the worse it gets.” He turned back to the drone. “Are you ready?”

  Daniel was quiet. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t be garrulous as he did.

  The Pope started down the stairs, not looking back, his robes billowing slightly behind him.

  Daniel looked back to the building. Only a single Priest stood there, alone. Daniel could run if he wanted, but where to? Back inside the building? Or maybe dash past the Pope and out into the garden beyond the drone?

  Daniel had nowhere to go, and he knew it.

  He followed behind the Pope, down the steps. They reached the small plane, the doors sensing them and automatically opening on both sides.

  “It doesn’t matter where you sit. It flies itself.” The Pope sounded almost giddy about getting in the thing, as if it was some kind of rare treat.

  Daniel took a seat, not bothering to make eye contact with the Pope. The older man walked around to the other side and got in.

  The doors closed, ending any chance of fleeing. Daniel kept his eyes forward and the drone lifted off the ground, moving straight up into the air. Despite his impending death, Daniel felt a sense of wonder. He watched the ground beneath him fall away, and the air above quickly become his home. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

  Daniel watched objects on the ground grow smaller and smaller, and then as the surrounding metal of the plane turned translucent …

  His mouth opened slightly.

  How? he wondered. How is this possible?

  “Yes, it is quite powerful seeing it for the first time, isn’t it?” the Pope asked, still sounding as if he wasn’t about to commit murder.

  Daniel said nothing, only watched as the drone rose higher into the air. It started moving forward, taking them across the Vatican, the speed increasing with each second.

  No one said anything as they moved over the Vatican walls.

  Daniel saw the devastation immediately, the drone high enough in the air to show him everything. The drone didn’t slow down, but kept moving forward, and Daniel saw more and more—though he didn’t want to.

  The destruction swept across the entire land before him.

  “I …,” he started, but had no words to finish the sentence. The feelings in his mind couldn’t be communicated.

  What he saw was unimaginable. The smoke columns weren’t seasonal; they were massive burning buildings. Roads beneath him were clogged with cars, none moving, and dead bodies littered the highways. Some on top of cars, some right on the asphalt. Daniel couldn’t see what had happened to any of the people, not from so high, but he knew they were dead.

  “I’m going to show you the world now, Mr. Sesam. I’ve been dealing with this the past three days, and that’s why I haven’t given you my full attention. The fact that I have dealt with you at all shows your importance, however. Because I’ve spent many hours over the past few days trying to convince you to talk with me. When I do that, though, it pulls me away from trying to help everything you’re seeing now.”

  Daniel shook his head, his eyes narrow. “I don’t understand.”

  It was all he could say.

  “Those people that came for your daughter, at least some of them, I sent them. You know that. But they weren’t there to kill her. They were under strict instructions not to kill her.”

  The Pope was silent for a second as they passed over a hill of dead bodies. There must have been a few hundred, stacked on top of one another tens of feet in the air. Five or six people circled the pile, wearing thick suits and carrying flame throwers. Fire burst from their weapons, scorching the dead, creating a burial of only ashes.

  “It’s the Black, Mr. Sesam. There’s no sense in avoiding the truth. I think we have avoided truth for too long, if you want my honest opinion. The Black is returning and this is only the beginning. Those people down there burning their brothers and sisters, they’re part of Its army. There isn’t anywhere you can go, Mr. Sesam. I’m sure you want to leave the Vatican, but you have no home anymore. There’s hardly a city untouched by these roving armies.”

  Daniel’s eyes were wet and the scene beneath him blurred as they passed beyond the hill of bodies.

  “I need to know about your daughter, because she might be able to help stop this.”

  The Pope leaned back in his chair and looked out his side of the drone. He was quiet for a few moments.

  “You haven’t said much since we brought you in, but let’s go ahead and get everything out. The first person who came to find your daughter, he would have killed her. None of that was at my direction. I didn’t know that man existed, nor that he’d been sent for your daughter. It probably wasn’t even an edict given by my predecessor. The hunting of your daughter’s kind, of your kind, goes back a thousand years. During my entire Papacy, I honestly never thought about the sight. When I found out we didn’t kill her, I said to bring her in without harming her … I am sorry you were roughed up, but that’s the truth of the matter, Mr. Sesam.”

  Daniel didn’t know what to believe. He was listening, but hardly able to process, not with what he saw below.

  “Do you know where she came from, your daughter? What gave her her abilities?”

  Daniel shook his head, though he didn’t know if the Priest was looking at him.

  “She was made to contact the Black. Her purpose, the point of the sight, was originally made to mimic what Its weapons did. We wanted to understand It better. To use It if possible. To fight It … I don’t know; that’s what I’ve been told at least. It all seems insane to me, except now we’re sitting here looking at a dying world and your daughter has a gift that might be able stop all of this.”

  The drone flew on, starting to bank right. Daniel looked at everything beneath him, his brow furrowed and his mind only a notch or two above completely blank. Thoughts were there, but nothing concrete.

  “I need your help, Mr. Sesam. The world needs your help. We don’t have your daughter, regardless what you may think. Someone else does, but if you help us, we can get her back. And, I promise, if we do, we won’t harm her. She may be our only hope.”

  I’m getting too old, the Pope thought, but knew it wasn’t the truth. He was getting nothing; he’d been too old to ever start this. The lack of sleep was weighing on him; he could feel his mind’s pace slowing, not reacting or picking up things as quickly as it should.

  He knew he could get amphetamines if he wanted, but he’d gone his whole life without taking such things.

  You’re being a teetotaler, he thought. Ridiculously dumb. You won’t be sentenced to hell for ingesting a few pills, especially if you’re trying to hold off Armageddon.

  Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.

  Yule sat in his office, the lights off. The tarp had dropped from his ceiling as well as the projector, and he was waiting on three faces to fill it. The representatives of the other Ministries. They were all still alive, as far as Yule knew. It wasn’t the powerful that died in war, only those who lacked that singular currency. Power.

  True, but when the currency runs out for those that have the most, they often face harsher penalties. Those who hold the largest reserves of that currency end up beheaded in front of thousands.

  The tarp came to life, dashing the old Pope’s thoughts. The top half filled first with the High Priest, though faces would change at the top depending upon who was speaking. The bottom half was cut in half again, the One Path’s leader on it, and the Constant’s Representative on the right.

  Ludicrous names, Yule thought, one that had come to him a million times before. He quickly banished it, though, as he looked at the two faces on the bottom. Not the top—not the High Priest—but the other two … they were stricken.

  Is this what I look like? he wondered.

  Their skin appeared tighter across their skulls. Black, half circles beneath their eyes. Not quite terror, but something very close—a brother or sister of it—sat on their faces like masks. One
s they couldn’t take off.

  Yule looked down for a second, gathering his thoughts, trying to force the brief shock from his mind. He’d never seen these people in such a state, hadn’t actually thought it possible. They were the rulers of the world, or supposed to be.

  He looked back up.

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” Yule said, having called the congress a few hours before. His words were, of course, only formalities. These people had better meet any time he asked—their lives, and the lives of everyone on Earth, depended on it. “I’m going to assume that your territories are as bad off as the Old World?”

  The bottom two Ministers nodded. The High Priest only stared, his face unmoving. It dropped to the bottom, though—and thank God—as the One Path’s leader spoke. Trinant One.

  So silly, Yule thought, unable to help himself.

  “I’ve lost control of 85% of my territory. Cities have completely fallen from the sky. Whole cities.” Her face wasn’t quite sickened, but close. Yule understood the feeling at once, and perhaps for the first time during his Papacy, he felt kinship with her. Regardless of their different faiths and the walls they’d built between one another, they all faced the same thing now. Annihilation.

  The Constant’s Representative spoke, his face taking over the tarp’s top. “My percentages are a little higher than that. We’ve lost everything here. Our communication grid is down. Our robotics have simply stopped working. I mean … the dead. They’re uncountable.”

  No one spoke for a second, it clear that everyone was waiting on the High Priest to speak.

  He cleared his throat. “From what I understand, the same is happening inside the True Faith.”

  Yule nearly shook his head in disbelief. From what he understands … The man was unbelievable.

  “I’ve been researching what our ancestors did the last time the Black arrived,” the Constant’s Representative—Benten—said. He obviously wasn’t paying as much attention to the High Priest as Yule, which was probably a good thing. Yule knew he gave too much importance to the man.

  “We got lucky with Veritros,” the High Priest said, interrupting the others. “Your Citadel was completely destroyed, Benten.”

  “Perhaps so, but there are still lessons we can learn.”

  “Enlighten us, then,” the High said.

  “Somehow, they discovered she was heading to the Old World. To the Nile River. That’s where we met her, and my advisors think that it’ll be an important spot for this weapon as well. We think the new one will return to the Nile. Maybe that’s where he is supposed to set up a capital, or maybe he’s supposed to make contact with the Black there.”

  The room was quiet for a second.

  “That’s … impressive,” Yule said. Yule had focused on only two goals over the past few days: saving people in the Old World from the brutal war hoist upon them, and working on Daniel Sesam to give him information about his daughter. He hadn’t looked into the past at all—not since his first meeting with the historian and scientist. The present had consumed him.

  “Why the Nile?” Trinant asked.

  “The Biblical meanings are almost endless,” Yule said.

  “I’m not as concerned with those,” Benten responded, “but from an evolutionary perspective, it has significance. Humanity first began in Africa, and most likely around a water source. The Nile could have something to do with it.”

  “High Priest,” Yule said, “do you have any idea where the weapon is now?”

  “No.”

  “And any updates on trying to apprehend him?”

  The High Priest was quiet for a second, peering out at Yule as if he was a strange insect. The look caused goosebumps to rise on Yule’s arms, but he remained still. Finally, the High spoke, “We’re working backdoor channels to contact the informant again. We think that’s our best opportunity to find out where he’s heading.”

  “We want access to the informant,” Trinant said.

  “Not possible.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re not going to risk spooking the informant by having every Ministry in the world contact them. They could change allegiances any moment, and might have already, given that it looks like the Black may win.”

  “I think we need to focus on the Nile,” Benten said. “We should concentrate forces there, and when he arrives, we eliminate him.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?” the High Priest asked. “What’s your plan then?”

  “What is your plan?” the Constant’s Representative snapped back.

  “I already told you. We will work the informant until we have the weapon’s whereabouts.”

  And in that moment, Yule knew the High Priest had taken Nicki Sesam. Perhaps she wasn’t yet in his possession, but the person who took her was his envoy. Without any doubt. For their last conversation was dominated with talk about the sight and the Old World’s program. Now, though, the High Priest mentioned none of it.

  You took her. You came here to my world and you took her. But why? What are you going to do with her? What are you planning?

  “I agree with Benten. The One Path will support a Nile River resolution. I think that’s going to be our best chance. What does the Old World say?”

  Yule was still looking at the High Priest. He heard the question, but wasn’t interested in answering it.

  “You took her, didn’t you?” the Pope asked. “You came here and you took the woman with the sight?”

  No one said anything; they all knew who Yule’s question was aimed at.

  “No.”

  “That’s a lie. We have video of it, High Priest. Someone took her, just as we were trying to detain her. Someone other than us took her, and it was you.”

  The High Priest shook his head, a sick smile appearing on his face. It was the first time Yule had seen such a thing. For years Yule thought the man was slightly off—but in that moment, when his lips pulled back over his small teeth, Yule understood the man was insane.

  Not odd. Not strange. Not even evil.

  He was insane. The world he saw … it wasn’t the same one Yule saw, or anyone else at this meeting.

  “I didn’t take her, old Priest. So stop accusing me of it.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” Yule asked. “Why would you do that and not tell us?”

  “Is this true?” Trinant asked.

  A chuckle from the High Priest. “No. Ask yourselves the same questions he just asked me. Why would I do it? Why wouldn’t I tell you all? What could I possibly gain? The world is ending and withholding anything from you makes no sense.”

  “You’re withholding the informant.”

  “But not the information about them,” the High Priest said. His voice was easy, not a hint of reproach or defensiveness in it.

  Yule was quiet, feeling sweat on his brow and palms. The man was lying. Four people were supposed to hold the line against a creature not of this universe, and one of them had lost his mind.

  Lord, direct me. Tell me what to do, because I don’t know how to reason with a man who has no ability to do so.

  They were no longer fighting a single entity, but now they also had to fight this man—yet Yule wasn’t sure anyone else realized it yet. How were they supposed to survive this, when they couldn’t trust the people next to them?

  Moments passed in silence and then the High Priest said, “So, Pope, are you going to support this Nile River Resolution, or do you have another plan?”

  Yule walked quickly down the hallway, his robes flying behind him. The meeting ended only moments before, and Yule had wasted no time. He’d been foolish and saw that now. It was his faith—that was the problem. His belief in God, the one of Abraham, made him think that the Catholic Church, the Old World, would always exist. That God had blessed them both, and it didn’t matter what the outsiders did, His blessing would suffice.

  Yule had been wrong, though.

  If God worked in mysterious ways, then his fallen angel Lucifer did t
he same.

  Yule rounded a corner and then past the orderly sitting in front of Sesam’s room. The man tried to stand, his eyes widening as he recognized who was here. Yule didn’t knock on the door, but simply opened it, stepping inside.

  Sesam was on his bed, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. He looked to the door, though he didn’t move.

  “I know who has her,” Yule said.

  Sesam sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. “Who?”

  “The True Faith is bringing her to their High Priest. She’s on the way now.”

  “Can you get her back?” Sesam asked.

  Yule closed the door behind him. Their last conversation hadn’t ended well, at least by the measure of Yule not getting what he wanted from it—the barometer that decided all conversations, he supposed. Do we get what our egos desire?

  Sesam hadn’t been in any shape to talk after Yule’s tour of the Old World. The Pope hadn’t been sure if it was a mistake to show him, but by the end, he thought it probably was. The man had only stared out of the drone with tear filled eyes. He said few words and when Yule asked for his help, he hadn’t answered at all.

  Daniel Sesam had first lost his daughter, then the world he grew up in.

  Yule brought him back to the Vatican and told him he’d return.

  Now, looking at Sesam, Yule thought he appeared better. His face wasn’t as haunted and his eyes clear.

  “Can you?” Sesam asked again, more urgency in his voice—and Yule liked that. He wanted the man to feel some urgency, finally.

  “I don’t know. So far, we haven’t been able to locate her or the man that took her. Most likely he’s part of an elite force, so he’s trained in deception. I imagine the High Priest has many capable people.” Yule walked closer so that he stood in front of Sesam’s bed. “I know you had the sight too, Mr. Sesam. Maybe it’s not strong anymore, but it’s better than anything else we have.”

  “What will they do to her?” the father asked.

  “I’m being honest when I tell you that I don’t know. The High Priest, the man in charge of the True Faith, he’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. You may distrust me, the Church, and religion. Perhaps people have given you reason to as well. This man, though, holds none of the ideals that you do, none that I do, either. If you want to protect your daughter, then you need to help me.”