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by Robert L. Wise

  Bridges’ eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting the camera nanorobots hit them, aren’t you?”

  Meachem nodded. “Word came up through the chain of command about this, so I ordered autopsies to be performed by our people.”

  “And?” Bridges beckoned for him to keep talking.

  “The lab found their noses, windpipes, and throats filled with a black substance. Microscopic examination revealed thousands of nanorobots invaded their eyes, ears, throats, all over their bodies.”

  “Get Dr. Gillette on the videophone instantly,” Bridges ordered his secretary. “Do it at once.”

  Connie Reeves rushed out of the room.

  “Let’s see what Gillette says,” Bridges growled. “By the way, have you dragged anything out of Peck’s daughter yet?”

  Meachem shook his head. “She’s turned out to be a tougher nut to crack than we thought. Won’t tell us anything. I think we’re going to have to use a little sodium Pentothol or something of that order on her if we’re going to get any information out of the kid.” Meachem rolled his deep-set eyes cynically. “Drugs usually pound the door down. Don’t worry. We will break her.”

  “He’s on the phone,” Connie said from the door. “Turn on your wall receiver.”

  Bridges reached across the desk and hit a corner button. A large blank screen on the opposite wall sprang to life. Sitting in his office wearing a white lab coat, Dr. Paul Gillette had a worried look on his face.

  “Ah, Dr. Gillette.” Bridges instantly switched to a broad smile. “We need your assistance.” Bridges kept the everything-is-okay countenance in place. “You see”—he cleared his throat—“we had a strange incident yesterday. A family of six were out in one of the parks when they suddenly died—”

  “God help us!” Gillette cut him off. “I knew it!” He dropped his face into his hands. “I told you we weren’t ready!”

  Bridges’ smile slid into a frown. “Please be more specific.”

  “I told you those nanorobots weren’t entirely controllable! Don’t you remember the death of Dr. Allen Newton? The machines killed him!”

  Bridges leaned forward. “I want to know how long they’ll be out there flying around,” he asked pointedly.

  “Who knows?” Gillette fired back. “You stopped our experiments before we could compile data on such issues.”

  “But you can pull them back in,” Bridges pursued the scientist. “Can’t you electronically make them return to your lab, to our building, wherever?”

  “You fool!” Gillette snarled uncharacteristically. “If these gizmos attacked someone rather than took their picture, do you think I have any control over them?” He smashed his fist on the desk. “My God, apparently they have developed a herd mentality, a sense of direction of their own! They are roaming across your city, doing whatever the swarm pleases.” He suddenly stood up. “I don’t care what you do to me. I want no more of this. Don’t send those thugs back here again. Get out of my life!” He pointed a finger at the screen. “You come back here, and I’ll talk to the press. You’ve released a plague that is running its own course. Like turning loose killer locusts and scorpions on the world, you’ve sent death out on the winds. Who knows what those malicious machines will do to any group of six people they find!”

  The screen went blank.

  CHAPTER 40

  WHEN THE DAY of July 4 began, the sky looked normal, but only a few hours had passed when the summer sun started to fade. For a short period of time, a deadly stillness settled across the world, and a chill spread down the plains and over the Midwest. A volcano abruptly erupted in the middle of the Lewis and Clark National Forest, about sixty-five miles from Great Falls, Montana. The darkening sky silhouetted the exploding eruption of fire and lava. Ash caught the increasing wind and began to spread as a gray cloud down into Wyoming and into Idaho. By noon a threatening blackness had settled over the West. The volcano quickly grew into a large mountain.

  Special celebrations were canceled, and some of the ash proved deadly. Not only in Montana, but in Wyoming and Idaho, as well as in North and South Dakota, people were dying from breathing the ash and poisonous gases now set loose across several states. The town of Cheyenne declared an emergency, insisting people tape their windows and doors to keep out the deadly dust. Deaths were reported in Ft. Collins and Greeley, Colorado. Terror spread through Minnesota and on toward Wisconsin.

  “I think it’s another one of those assaults from God,” George told his father. “He’s warning people to straighten up.”

  “I’d think they should have gotten the message by now,” Jackie said. “If I didn’t have a relationship with the Almighty, I’d be frightened to death.”

  “The world can see nothing but confusion,” Adah added. “It is the Scripture that opens our eyes to the truth.” She opened her Bible. “Chapter eight in Revelation tells us of what happens when the Holy One breaks open the seventh seal. Listen to what the book tells us.” She started to read: “‘And hail and fire followed, mingled with blood, and they were thrown to the earth. And a third of the trees were burned up, and all green grass was burned up.’ This I think is happening. Isn’t a volcano like fire and blood mingled?”

  “Yeah,” Graham said glumly. “At least Alice Masterson saved us by allowing us to use this cabin,” Graham said.

  “And we have a phone now,” Jackie added. “It helps to be able to call her.”

  “I am so sorry that Eldad was killed so early on,” Adah added. “While this strange explosion leaves me in fear, he would have been fascinated.”

  “I wish Matthew would come back,” Jackie added. “I don’t like him hiding over there watching our cabin.”

  “Matt’s clever,” Graham said. “He has binoculars now; he can get the picture without getting too close.”

  “This house is really small,” George said. “Half the size of our other one.”

  “But it’s a roof over our heads,” Jackie reminded him. “Never complain when we could be living out of the backseat of our car. I am sure many, many people are dying right now.”

  The wind picked up, sending an icy howl through the small cabin. Windows shook, and only the candles provided an eerie glow throughout the small house.

  Graham looked out the window. “We can’t simply let Mary sit in jail. We’ve got to contact her.”

  “They’d nail you on the spot,” Jackie answered him. “Graham, you can’t go anywhere without people recognizing you. The Chicago bosses have turned you into a wanted man.”

  “Maybe I could peroxide my hair,” he said thoughtfully. “Grow a beard. Something of that order.”

  “It is an important idea,” Adah said. “You must not be recognized easily.”

  “I keep thinking over and over about our daughter,” Jackie said. “I pray a hundred times a day that God will keep His hand on her, no matter how rebellious she’s been.”

  “Listen!” Adah said. “I think a car is coming.”

  Graham rushed to the window. “I can see the headlights. Yes! It’s Matthew’s car!”

  The car pulled up near the front door, and Matt dashed into the house. Stamping his feet on the small rug near the door, he brushed small pieces of ash off his coat. “Everybody gather around the table,” he said. “I’ve got plenty to tell you.”

  The family quickly settled around the wooden dining room table. No one spoke.

  “This morning, shortly after the sky started to darken, a caravan of cars showed up at our cabin,” Matt began. “They came fast and hit our house like commandos on a raid. In seconds, they’d gone through the entire house. I recognized the face of Al Meachem.”

  Graham’s shoulders dropped, and he sighed. “Exactly what I was afraid of.”

  “Obviously, they knew exactly where they were going,” Matt continued. “Of course, they didn’t find anything.”

  “How long did they stay?” Jackie asked.

  “Two hours at the most. One of the cars arrived with scientific equipment, and I
think they must have gone over every inch of the place, but the sky kept getting darker. They turned on the lights, which allowed me to watch them through the windows easier without anybody seeing me.”

  “What happened next?” George asked.

  “After about an hour and a half, the sky turned black, and the attackers looked worried. The men came back out and got in their cars, except for Meachem and some other man.” Matthew stopped and took a deep breath. “You want me to go on?”

  “Absolutely,” Graham urged him. “We’ve got to know what they did.”

  Matt nodded his head slowly. “Well . . . they threw gasoline all over the house and tossed in a match. The cabin burned to the ground.”

  Jackie started crying, and Graham put his arm around her.

  “Your beautiful house burned down?” Adah said with painful longing in her voice.

  “Yeah, afraid so,” Matthew said. “We no longer have a home in Tomahawk.”

  CHAPTER 41

  “OUR ENEMIES HAVE TURNED us into wandering nomads,” Jackie said thoughtfully as she listened to Matthew describe the burning of their Tomahawk cabin. “We have no place to live except where friends open a door to us.”

  “And Graham is now a criminal on the run,” Adah added. “The Evil One has made him a wanted man everywhere.”

  “For doing nothing,” Graham said. “Adah, are you sure you know what you are talking about from the book of Revelation? Sometimes I think it would have been much easier to have forgotten all of this Bible stuff and simply . . .”

  “You really believe that?” Jackie asked.

  Graham looked out the window thoughtfully. “No, of course I don’t. I’m just feeling the pain of knowing thugs burned down our cabin, and we can’t do anything about it.”

  “Not at this moment,” Adah said. “But never forget, the future is on our side.”

  “Why do you say that so confidently?” Graham asked her.

  “It is clear from the Bible. In the end, the believers win.”

  “That’s a hard idea to hang on to right now,” Graham said.

  “Sure.” Adah nodded her head. “But every prophecy in Revelation tells us this is true.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Graham said glumly. “It’s simply hard to feel right now.”

  Adah picked up a piece of paper and quickly drew a wheel, with a hub in the center and spokes extending to the outer rim. “This is how the events in Revelation are arranged,” she explained. “In the past, brilliant interpreters didn’t understand the book correctly because they thought the events like broken seals, seven trumpets, and bowls of wrath were stepping-stones that had to follow one another chronologically. This I do not believe was correct.”

  Matthew looked at the wheel for a moment. “Then what is right?”

  “Each of these unfolding visions is always the same pattern,” Adah said. “Notice that fact. What occurs between people is different, but the pattern is identical for what follows.” She pointed at the hub of the wheel. “Each prophecy begins with the proclamation of Christ as Lord. That’s the hub. Once that word is preached, a battle with evil begins. That is the spoke of the wheel. After a period of warfare, it appears the Christians are in trouble, because chaos is so strong.” A smile broke across her face. “Then a surprise occurs and God intervenes, just as He did for the Jews against Pharaoh, and the believers come out the victors. That is the outer rim. Each vision, whether it be trumpets or bowls of wrath, tells this story. Like spokes of a wheel, the pattern is repeated in each of these circumstances.”

  “That’s amazing!” Matthew told Adah.

  “You look and see.” Adah pointed at Graham. “For yourself—find out. See if I am not correct.”

  “I’m not doubting you,” Graham said. “I’m just deeply disturbed right now. We can’t sit here and let Mary rot in the Cook County Jail! I must visit that jail and talk to her.”

  “You can’t!” Jackie protested. “I’m sure they’ve got samples of your DNA, fingerprints, picture, and who knows what else. Bridges’ people would grab you in an instant.”

  “She’s absolutely right,” Matthew agreed. “Dad, if there’s anybody who needs to stay hidden, it’s you.”

  Graham rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head.

  “In fact,” Matthew continued, “there’s only one person who hasn’t received publicity during this period, and that’s who must go.”

  “Who?” Graham frowned.

  “Me!” Matthew said. “Haven’t you noticed that I’m never on the news or in any of these reports? They haven’t thought of looking for a likeness of me yet.”

  “You can’t go into that jail,” Graham protested. “Why, they’d grab you in—”

  “Wait!” Adah interrupted him. “I think your son has a point. Look at him.” Adah pointed at Matt’s face. “He’s grown a beard and a mustache in these weeks. Dye his hair dark black, and Matt would look like an entirely different man from months ago.”

  Jackie eyed her son’s face. “I hate to admit it, but Adah is right. Matt has matured during this last year.”

  “It’s out of the question,” Graham insisted.

  “Dad, I’m not a child anymore,” Matthew said. “I’ve grown up. Don’t be afraid. I can go to Chicago, and if there’s a way to see Mary, I’ll get in.”

  “And I will go with him,” Adah insisted. “Two people will be needed for this task, and no one knows me.”

  Graham rubbed his hands together nervously. “Neither of you knows that jail,” he said. “I do. Remember? I was on the committee that helped design the new building. I know every detail of that prison. That’s why—”

  “That’s why you need to teach me,” Matthew said. “Draw a map. Go over it with me. I can learn what you know.”

  “I’m not convinced,” Graham said.

  “You, too, must change your appearance,” Adah told Graham. “Obviously, Bridges’ people will be looking for you in Wisconsin. Make your hair blond. Grow a mustache, but keep out of sight.”

  Graham still shook his head. “The entire idea worries me.”

  “I understand,” Matthew said. “But we’re your only hope. Adah and I will get ready to return to Chicago. Dad, start telling me everything you know about that jail. We’ll be ready.”

  Graham took a deep breath. “I guess I don’t have much alternative.” He picked up a pencil. “Okay. Let’s go over a diagram of how the jail is laid out.”

  CHAPTER 42

  MAYOR FRANK BRIDGES, Al Meachem, and Jack Stratton stepped off a private jet and into a limousine waiting for them at the La Guardia airport. The driver whisked them away in the direction of Hassan Rashid’s New York offices on Fifty-ninth Street across from Central Park on Manhattan Island.

  “How’s Rashid doing?” Meachem asked. “Still recovering?”

  “Actually the plastic surgery went well, and Carson—I mean Rashid—is back in his offices,” Frank Bridges said. “Looks like he’s recovering very well.”

  “Has that United Nations speech he was going to make come back to his mind?” Stratton asked.

  “Fortunately, it hasn’t,” Bridges said. “I think Rashid would be in big trouble if he’d blasted the General Assembly in a grab for power. He hasn’t brought it up again, and we’re sure not going to mention it.” He looked at both men with one eyebrow slightly raised. “Got me?”

  “Sure, boss.” Meachem grabbed his mouth. “I mean, Your Honor.”

  “What’s the latest report on the effects of the volcano and the subsequent storms?” Bridges asked.

  “The volcano hasn’t subsided a bit,” Meachem said. “They’ve got big trouble in Great Falls, Bozeman, and Billings, as well as Helena. In Wyoming, they’ve closed Yellowstone Park and are concerned about the number of animals that may die.”

  Bridges nodded his head. “We’ve certainly got our problems in Chicago. I hate these strange environmental problems that keep coming up.” He cursed violently. “I thought the sky was fal
ling on us when that crater erupted.”

  “Yeah,” Meachem said. “I guess you know one of our cars crashed coming back from the attack on Peck’s cabin.”

  “I heard,” Bridges said. “Can’t you find people who know how to drive?”

  “Listen, Frank. It got black so quickly, we had a hard time even finding the highway.”

  “Humph!” Bridges snorted. “Any of those people drinking?”

  “Oh, no, sir!”

  “They better not have been!” Bridges looked menacing. “We can’t afford any scandals.” He cleared his throat. Contamination from the atmosphere had infected his sinuses. “The only good thing to come out of this volcano eruption is that it gives us a logical reason for those six deaths in Lincoln Park. We’ve taken the position that they died from poison volcanic gas.”

  “But they died before the volcano erupted,” Stratton objected.

  “Never mind,” Bridges snapped. “Our position is the same.”

  “I’m worried about Gillette,” Meachem said.

  “Me too,” Stratton added. “I’d have to track him down since he’s flown the coop, but do you want me to kill him? I could assassinate him through a window, something of that order.”

  “No,” Bridges said. “If you find him, we might need him again before this nanorobot mess is over.”

  The limousine pulled up in front of a skyscraper with a large sign proclaiming “Royal Arab Petroleum Company” across the first floor. The driver hopped out and hurried around to open the car doors. The three men quickly entered the building and walked down a long hall.

  “Remember,” Bridges told Jack Stratton, “you stay outside Rashid’s door and guard the entrance. I don’t want another one of those United Nations experiences!”

  “Yes sir. I’ll pay careful attention.”

  “Look sharp,” Bridges whispered out the side of his mouth to Meachem. “These meetings are extremely important.”

  “Certainly.”

  A guard immediately whipped open the massive door as the three men approached. Bridges and Meachem walked into a large board room. Stratton stood outside. Across the ceiling were scrolls painted gold. The room looked elegant.