Jacob's Trouble 666

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Jacob's Trouble 666 Page 11

by Terry James


  The video changed again, showing a prisoner who had been stripped naked being held by two controllers. Every inch of his head and body had been shaved then covered with what looked to be a coat of clear, glistening lacquer.

  "These traitors deserve the most cruel deaths that can be devised, because they have perpetrated the cruelest crimes of all—taking from their trusting brothers and sisters of INterface, while those brothers and sisters sacrifice to bring in the perfect order we all want—and because they have aided the Jewish swine in their drive to enslave the world with their Zionist, humanity-robbing ideology!"

  The prisoner was thrust into a room and the door locked behind him. The narrator's voice continued.

  "The Jew, in most cases, dies a quick, merciful death. INterface is not unfeeling, even for the rodents that infest us."

  The room in which the man stood was illuminated by dim, red light, it soon becoming evident that the camera providing the view taped the event with an infrared lens. The prisoner could not see. He moved cautiously ahead in what was, for him, total darkness, looking in all directions, trying to pick up some glimmer of light.

  "Our mercy ends where betrayal begins! This man, a Sector Coordinator, was found to have hidden at his apartment two Jewish females, with whom he sexually consorted as if they were of his own kind instead of being of the lowest order. He also read from the Talmud, which he kept hidden away along with many other pieces of trash formerly passed off by the Jews as literature."

  Alone, naked, and in total darkness, knowing his death was imminent but not knowing how he would die, the man became increasingly panicked, reaching his hands to feel for obstacles. He stepped slowly, extending his feet with each step to feel for openings in the floor that might swallow him and dash him to pieces somewhere below. The infrared lights allowed the cameras to capture the terror on the man's face and each movement of his glinting body while he felt his way.

  "Watch the former Sector Coordinator grope, lost in his sin, alone in his punishment, terrified in his hell," the narrator-voice said, while Jacob followed the doomed man's movements.

  "There was salvation for him—salvation through INterface— through our Master Manya. This man chose darkness—death—hell!"

  INterface added audio to its video presentation, urging the viewer to become even more caught up in the victim's agony. Crying could be heard, soft, guttural sobbing, when the camera's lens zoomed quickly in for a close-up of the man's face. The tears and terror on the glistening face, graphically presented to shock those who watched. Jacob was unmoved. For him it was anti-climactic, this vulgar display of INterface cruelty. They took everything from him. His personality, his vitality... Karen. Everything except his life. He would take that himself. He had lost control of his life—he would control his own death.

  "This is the fate of all who betray the Cosmic Whole of INterface, of all who are disloyal to our loving Master Manya," the voice continued while the man inched his way until he made contact with one wall. He ran his hands along its surface, his unseeing eyes still trying to gather in his surroundings.

  "Not knowing what is in store for him is part of this traitor's hell. But that is only a small bit of the punishment he is about to... enjoy. You see, his body has been prepared, through bioelectronics computer analysis, for the finale, for the ending to his miserable, disloyal life."

  The scene before Jacob became one of a room equipped with various electronic circuitry boards.

  "We shall take this former Sector Coordinator's analysis as our case in point."

  The video showed the man, at an earlier time, being hooked up to the electrodes and probes that surrounded him, giving the appearance, when the process was finished, that thin, white tentacles grew from many parts of his nude body and attached to the modular machinery that almost encircled him. He showed no fear, but stared straight ahead.

  "Our subject has been injected with newly developed serums that interact with his body functions and with this new technology, to which he is attached. The process provides answers to essential questions such as: Which chemical agents, when comingled with his body's bio-galvanic constituency, can produce what types of reactions when different stimuli are introduced at a later time? You will soon understand and see the answers in this traitor's case."

  With two controllers standing at parade-rest behind the man, who sat strapped to a wooden chair, a young woman in a white lab coat fidgeted with several gadgets on the circuitry boards to which the prisoner was attached by the white wires. His body convulsed each time she threw a switch or manipulated a rheostat.

  "This process feeds the computer the necessary information for it to assess the data and read out the answers we seek. The result, this answer, combined with further hypnotically secured data, tells us the subject's inner-most secrets. More precisely, his greatest fears. In the case of this former Sector Coordinator, we learned that his most dramatic fear is the fear of being attacked by wild animals. Rodent-type mammals, to be exact. We considered rats. They registered very high on his fear index. Ah... but bats! Bats were the answer! Therefore, this traitor shall indeed have bats!"

  The scene changed back to the man in the red-hued room. He looked to be struggling, his hands still on the wall, trying to pull his palms from it. His struggle increased, became frantic in his effort, while the voice explained.

  "The wall is treated with a special adhesive which when first touched, feels dry. Body heat quickly dissolves the chemical, turning it into a powerful glue, which makes the wall like flypaper for human insects. This enemy of INterface will remain in this position until he is removed after his death."

  The narrator, loving his job, sounded delighted while he explained. If only the narrator could be nearby when Jacob pressed the button. If only... But the narrator was merely speech, synthesized! A computer made to enjoy its work. So sophisticated, so efficient had the Masters become with their technologies.

  "Now we provide just the faintest illumination, so our friend will be able to see his companions."

  The indirect lighting negated the infrared light, the camera now able to capture every movement of the glistening prisoner, who ceased his struggle and turned as far as his predicament allowed to see what was planned for him next.

  "Now we tell him exactly what is in store for him. His fear will produce the chemical body agents which will combine with the compound painted on his body to create a fascinating phenomenon. Through the computer bio-psychological analysis process shown earlier, we are able to produce this lacquer-like substance, which in itself is totally harmless. However, when extreme fear is induced, the subject's unique secretions and galvanic responses—all analyzed and recorded before the lacquer was prepared for him —encourage the chemical to strip the top layers of skin from his flesh, exposing more and more nerve endings. The chemical reaction also becomes more pain-stimulating than does salt when poured in an open wound."

  The stuck prisoner had resumed his struggle to free himself from the wall while the narrator-voice continued with seeming pleasure. "Let us induce fear into the matter."

  The voice changed tone. "Six, six, six, four, one, five, seven, three, three."

  The prisoner stopped struggling and glanced quickly around the room, looking to see from where the voice emanated.

  "My, my... you have gotten yourself into a bit of a problem, haven't you?" the narrator-voice said. "We must at least make your stay more interesting. We would not want you to become bored." Jacob could see the man screaming at the speakers located in the corners of the room's ceiling; he could not hear the man's words, but imagined they must be pleas for mercy.

  "You are in for a most interesting time, four, one, five, seven, three, three, I assure you. Let me explain. The compound spread over your body... We won't bother you with the technical name, do you mind? Suffice it to say, the compound has the most peculiar effect on bats.

  "Bats of every type--brown bats, fruit bats, vampire bats—they are drawn to it as sharks are dra
wn to blood. Even the huge, fruit-eating bats dive right in to whatever this compound is spread over. To them, you would appear or smell to be a giant, sweet, delicious fruit to be enjoyed. To the bloodsucking variety, the vampire bat, the scent tells them, of course, that you are a mammal, full of warm, nourishing blood to be sucked and enjoyed until they are sated. We know how much you like bats, four, one, five, seven, three, three."

  The man screamed silently on the screen in front of Jacob.

  "Now, now... let's not make a spectacle of ourselves," the mocking voice continued. "We have for you... bats... bats of every description! Small, gray bats with razor sharp fangs, with mouths that can suck the juices from a rabbit in a matter of minutes. Gigantic fruit bats that have unbelievably ravenous appetites for the flesh of fruits, which, of course, you will, to them, seem to be."

  The man twisted to look toward the speakers, then turned and placed his bare feet on the wall in an attempt to pry his palms free. He was sobbing, begging to be delivered from his fate. He turned his head when he heard the fluttering beat of hundreds of the winged mammals as they were released into the small room, his eyes and mouth gaping wide with terror.

  "Of course, what I have just told our subject is somewhat of an exaggeration," the narrator voice said while the man's struggle to free himself became more furious. "What we are doing, as I said before, is inducing fear in our friend."

  Jacob analyzed the words and events of the past several seconds. If they were setting John I. Garver up for a similar experience—the use of fear in helping with his own execution—why let him know they lied to the doomed man about the effect the skin-glazing chemical would have on the bats? Were they not concerned that a similar ploy would not work, should they want to use fear as part of his own termination? There were perhaps other, more stimulating forms of execution available to provide even greater entertainment for those who would view John I. Garver's elimination. Could it be that his being forced to watch this torture--being given the reason and time to wonder what was in store for himself--might be the first stage of the termination experience chosen for John I. Garver?

  "Inducing fear is our main objective, not securing this traitor's death by letting these creatures feed on his bodily fluids. His death will come through his own terror, and, of course, through the pain that will occur when the nerves are sufficiently exposed to the chemical... and the bats. The bats would eventually kill him, perhaps, because the compound is extremely attracting to them. They will be drawn to him, and will use his body as a place to seek refuge from their fellow creatures. The chemical will not cause them to begin feeding, but will, as his skin and inner-flesh are more and more exposed, mix with his blood, causing a panic reaction in the beasts. They will tear at each other and at his open flesh in an attempt to defend themselves against the imaginary enemies the chemicals and blood combination tricks their senses into believing are trying to harm them. Probably, however, he will die from shock and exposure, or perhaps, before that, from heart failure brought on by fear and pain."

  The room was filled with hundreds of the frenzied, fluttering animals, becoming a horror chamber for the man adhered to the wall. His struggle had stopped, and he cringed in a semi-fetal position against the wall, his head buried between his arms while the grotesque creatures slammed against his skin, which now had begun to dissolve due to the glazing compound's reaction to his body chemistry.

  Jacob watched the open-mouthed scream of agony and fear he knew the man was enduring. The bloodied prisoner tried to stand but could not, because now his left side, shoulder and hip were also firmly affixed to the fly-paper wall at points where they touched during his effort to protect himself.

  "See the end result of sin against the righteousness of INterface Universal." The narrator-voice was high-pitched and increased in its frenetic excitement, as did the chaos inside the room when still more bats were released. "Watch while the traitor endures the hell he has earned!"

  Jacob felt a sickly perspiration begin, the beads of his own sweat-juices emerge from the pores of his forehead. If not fear, he certainly felt something, and suddenly knew the psychological punishment was working! They were telling him he would die by the most agonizing method they could devise! He ran his hand around the belt again, fingering the metal clasp that hid the button; he still controlled his own destiny. There would be no such show for the monsters to enjoy at his expense.

  Blood showered from the man's serrated flesh, splattering against the wall and floor where he lay writhing in a semi-comatose state, the bats clawing and biting him and each other. Jacob looked past the gore, forcing his memory into time, where Karen was still there for him and hope was alive—though life was anything but trouble-free.

  Conrad Wilson shouted to be heard above the whining thump of the big helicopter that whisked them along at 300 knots above the cobalt-blue Aegean.

  "They never stop! They'll always be Cossacks! If we let it, this thing will have a disastrous effect on our timetable. And I'm sure that's a big part of this posturing." Wilson flipped through loose papers atop the briefcase on his lap while he talked.

  Jacob sat in the seat next to his foster father, taking in the magnificent view afforded through the big window. "They've done this sort of thing before. Maybe not on as large a scale, but it's probably like you said, just designed to throw confusion into the unification process—to get the Western leadership's collective mind off the business at hand."

  "It's an expensive bluff for them if that's the case. And if it doesn't accomplish their purpose, the top Russians will pay with their heads."

  "Could we stop them, if they were to go down into Palestine?"

  "Not short of using tactical nuclear weapons. Since Turkey left NATO to become closer to the Russian coalition and with Israel neutered, its army greatly reduced in order to satisfy the treaty with the Arabs, we don't have the capability to put a significant conventional force in the area. Not like during the action taken against Iraq in '91. It would take months to get enough strength there to fortify Israel," Wilson said. "If they go down at all, they'll go full force."

  "Nothing on earth, short of nuclear armaments, could deal with them in that event."

  "Would Israel be worth World War III to us?" Jacob queried.

  "No. But those tremendous new oil finds around the Red Sea, and the fantastic amounts of mineral goodies Israel's been taking out of the Dead Sea through the new mining techniques they've developed—plus all that lush territory they’ve developed through their recently implemented hydrological methods—all that might make it worth defending, if there were time. Defending with nuclear force? I don’t know. That’s what the Russians have to think about before invading Palestine, and of course, that’s primarily why they want the region. I just don’t know.

  “The President and all the other heads of state sent a joint note to Moscow just before we left Brussels, asking for explanations. The President told me the Russians replied that they are simply carrying out maneuvers with the coalition forces to learn more about how to defend their southern flank in case of attack,” Wilson said, punctuating the revelation with a disdainful laugh.

  “Defend against whom? Against Israel? The Arabs are their pals, so they can’t be afraid of them.”

  “Rearmed pals, by this time, I strongly suspect,” Wilson interrupted. “There’s intelligence to the effect that Russia has secretly stockpiled a lot of conventional armaments in and around Damascus, as well as in Libya. And, of course, Iran—never a part of the peace agreement—has much conventional hardware, although a lot of it is somewhat antiquated.”

  “Then you think any attack would be a joint invasion that would include even Iran and the Arabs?”

  Conrad Wilson considered the question, his forehead wrinkling above the silver-white eyebrows. “If it were to happen, all the hatreds that the Arab holds for the Jew would be instantly rekindled. The Russians would certainly welcome that joining to rid the area once and for all of Israel.” Wilson’s sombe
rness changed to a lighter mood. “But that’s a worst-case scenario, Jake. Not likely at all. It will all be over within a couple of days and we can finish our business and get you back to Karen.” He patted Jacob’s arm. “I’ve been so busy with this Russian build-up thing...did you talk to her?”

  “I knew you were involved with that problem, so I didn’t bother you with mine.”

  “Oh? Something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. She said she’s found out something—that Dr. Marchek left a diary of some kind in his home. He wrote about something he apparently discovered involving the Vice President and some others in government. We were cut off before she could tell me about it. She was really upset.”

  “The Vice President, huh? You didn’t call her back?”

  “The lines were having problems. We got the urgent call to leave Brussels, and I didn’t have a chance to call again.”

  “Don’t worry, Son. She’s okay.” Wilson again patted Jacob’s arm. “You call her again first thing after we get settled in.”

  Crete, the largest of the Greek Islands, lay spread beneath them. A many-colored paradise sprawling across the gateway to the Aegean, appeared from that height to be a great, partially submerged beast of the sea displaying its ridged, spiny back. To the south, the mountains of Dikta and Ida were beautiful, in full bloom now with their new crowns of snow. Jacob’s mind wandered, though his eyes remained affixed on the nature-created masterpiece. He had promised Karen he would get back to her, yet here he was, headed in the direction opposite from McLean, toward a destination he didn't even know. He was discussing with Conrad Wilson things that were of apocalyptic importance to mankind, but which for him—at least in his private thoughts--took a rear seat to personal concerns. Yet he sensed a connectedness, linking these world-convulsing matters to those which were violently shaking his private life. His uneasiness was magnified by the fact that something within him caused, for some reason beyond anything he could figure, a nagging suspicion of the one person he loved as much as he loved Karen. Anything that was afoot in government could not get past Conrad Wilson.

 

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