“Of course not. I never do.”
“Turn it on. Now.”
When he did, he began to hear the voice of the man who had startled him in his hotel not long ago by saying, “This is your wake-up call, Mr. Dowland.” The man was speaking into his SYNAPSYS, talking as clearly and calmly as if it were a live call. After a couple of minutes, Dowland told the message to shut off.
“There’s a document in your inbox as well with the same message.”
“Open mail,” he said, scanning the messages and quickly finding the one called “The Face of Evil.” When he opened it, the stern look of Jackson Heyford could be seen.
Uh-oh.
As Margaux drifted out of the room, conducting a live conversation with someone, Dowland began to read the document. After the first few paragraphs, he stopped and cursed. Loud and furious for thirty seconds.
“You got the very same thing?” he asked Margaux when she walked back to the table.
“The exact same thing.
“Unbelievable. It’s unbelievable. There’s no way.”
“I was talking to an agent. They got into the SYNAPSYS station.”
“What? How?” Dowland asked.
“We don’t know that.”
It was unfathomable.
“Who got these messages? Every single person in the building?” He laughed at his exaggeration.
“At this point it looks like everybody in the country.”
“What?”
“Every single person we’ve heard from nationwide. We don’t know about other countries.”
Dowland let out another burst of cursing while Margaux stood there and watched.
“Does your language become more graphic the angrier you get?” she asked him, sounding honestly curious.
“Hostility shows off my true colors.”
“Colors? There’s only one I see, Jon. It’s black. Very, very black.”
TWENTY-ONE
Flakes in a Snowstorm
1.
Seconds seemed to be stuck, refusing to move quickly, clawing over Cheyenne’s skin as she waited for her father to show up. They were in the farmhouse, with Malek and Jazz standing over the laptop searching for reactions to their work while Cheyenne looked out the window again.
“Where are they?” she asked. “We’ve been here for two hours.”
Jazz looked back at her. “It’ll be okay.”
“Listen to what one news outlet is saying,” Malek said, looking at the monitor.
Welcome to the dawn of a new era in technology. Twenty years ago we witnessed the abuse of algorithms in Facebook and search engines for Google, prompting mandates for government regulations and policies put in place for these privately held companies. Once claimed to be impossible to be hacked, the SYNAPSYS is no different than anything else, proving instead that good technology can always be manipulated and corrupted.
“Nothing about the actual message sent out there?” Jazz asked.
Malek shook his head. “Very little. Lots of words like delusional and extremist and hate are used when talking about the letter we sent. Here’s another quote: ‘This act constitutes a new era in the battle for individuals’ rights and the regulations on new technologies.’ ”
No longer in the uncomfortable business attire but jeans and a sweatshirt, Cheyenne walked over and sat on the couch. Part of her wanted to pray, yet that was like walking up to a stranger and asking for money. Or maybe just knocking on a door with nobody behind it.
“Are we ever going to see the Reckoner?” Cheyenne asked them. “Is he ever going to be brave enough to show his face?”
Malek turned now, probably because he could hear the tone in her voice. Jazz moved and sat on the arm of a chair facing her.
“The fewer people see him, the fewer ways people can get to him,” Jazz said.
“So he makes others do his work? People like the Parschauers?”
“It’s not his work, Cheyenne. I’m not doing this because of a prophet. I’m doing it because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Even before I knew about Jackson Heyford and others like him, I realized the great battle that we’re facing. I saw it firsthand. The hate for Christianity. How leaders in all industries view it in a way Hitler viewed the Jews. Slowly and surely our country divided faith into two categories: one being light and fun, the other deemed fascist. And they’ve been getting rid of that so-called fascism.”
She stood up, tired of listening to another round of this rhetoric. Cheyenne walked over and looked out the window again, but the dirt driveway looked exactly the same.
“Don’t you guys think of the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you’re all wrong? That you’ve taken an idea and whittled it down to something sharp, and now you’re trying to gouge people with it?”
Again Malek turned back to look at her, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve never once wondered if this is real,” Jazz said. “I just wonder what God wants or why He does what He does. Or is about to do.”
“But you don’t even know if our message is going to do anything to Acatour and Heyford.”
“Chy,” Malek blurted out, “tell me something. If all the things inside our message—if all those things prove to be true, and if Jackson Heyford takes the fall and becomes incriminated, then what are you going to think?”
She breathed in, feeling her chest quiver. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Seriously? Are you still going to question if there’s a God and if the Reckoner is actually a prophet?”
“I’m so tired of these stupid nicknames,” she said. “And I didn’t even read the entire message, not fully.”
She walked to the edge of the table where Malek sat and looked at both of them.
“I’m sorry, guys. I just— All I’ve wanted from the beginning of this is to find my—”
The sound of the door opening interrupted her.
Once again her father had been found.
2.
“Someone—some woman—took Lucia before she could reach me,” Keith Burne told them as he came up to Cheyenne and gave her a hug. “Good job back there.”
“Do you know who?” Jazz asked.
“No. But I’ve seen her with the guy who’s been following me.”
“What do you mean?” Cheyenne asked. “Someone’s been following you?”
Keith Burne nodded as he went to the kitchen and grabbed some water. “I’ve been making him think he’s following me. Look, guys. We have to get out of this place, especially since Lucia didn’t make it here.”
“What do you mean, you’re making him think he’s following you?” she asked.
“You think she’ll tell them something?” Jazz asked.
“Have you heard from the Reckoner?” Malek added.
Her father looked tired and anxious as he addressed Jazz first. “I’m less worried about her talking and more worried about their being able to get information from her. Her SYNAPSYS, her network, anything.”
He sat down on the couch and drained the last half of the water bottle he’d just taken.
“It’s too long a story to explain about the agent following me, Chy. And regarding the Reckoner, yes, I’ve heard from him. He was temporarily waylaid and out of touch. But he’s safe.” Keith looked over at Malek still tapping at the laptop. “What’s the response been?”
“Everybody’s talking about security and privacy issues and having conversations about being able to break into a SYNAPSYS.”
“But what about the message itself?” Keith asked. “And the accusations about Heyford and Acatour?”
“It sounds like people don’t want to hear it,” Malek said.
“They’re covering it up,” Jazz said, “the media, the network, with what they’re allowing to show and not allowing to show. The
y don’t want people talking about our declaration. The very ones our announcement is about have the means to prevent it from making the news. They’re going to distract and divert the public’s attention to anything and everything other than the truth.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t acting,” Malek added. “Incen Tower is already flooded with protestors and people demanding answers. The National Guard is coming to assist Chicago police in dealing with the mob. Look at this picture.” Every inch of space in front of the building they had just left was full of citizens standing shoulder to shoulder, yelling and chanting and demanding answers.
“This is three hours after getting the message,” Malek said with a smile. “Three hours. Chicago’s going to be in chaos by sunset.”
Jazz watched the footage of the protesters, mesmerized for the moment. “So this is how it happens, then.”
“What are we supposed to do now?” Cheyenne asked her father.
“It’s time to get out of Dodge,” he said.
“Get out of what?” a distracted Malek asked.
“It’s an idiom old folks like me still use,” Keith told them. “You need to leave tonight and head north. There’s a pastor named Brian Wallace, who’s been preparing for you guys to come. You’ll have to hide for a while.”
“I’ve gotten pretty used to that,” Jazz said.
“Yeah, me too,” Malek said.
“What do you mean ‘you guys’?” Cheyenne asked.
“I’m not going with you.”
She sat down next to him in complete disbelief. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”
He looked at Jazz and then at Malek.
“Dad? What?”
“I’m not going with you. I still have more to do.”
“But why? What are you talking about? We did what we were supposed to do. Right? I’ve followed the plan. I might go to jail or even worse. What more is there for you to do?”
He sighed, giving her that look, the one she used to resent so much.
“Don’t give me that,” she said. “Don’t give me your ‘it’s complicated’ look. Maybe if I was ten years old, then, yeah, I wouldn’t understand. But I’m not a kid. I’ve grown up. But it feels as if you forget that at selective times.”
Before her dad could respond, she stood up and walked out of the house.
3.
The horizon battled with her mood, its glory overpowering her frustration. With the sun ablaze on the distant horizon, the clouds appeared to follow as they stretched out toward the west, their warm orange and yellow textures gently rubbing against the darkening blue canvas above them. Cheyenne stood next to the wood-rail fence on the farm and looked across the flat field of grass; she could feel the calm cover her.
“What if our life had been like this?” her father mused as he walked up beside her, staring at the same picture she did. “What if all we’d known was harvesting the fields? Planting and picking and storing and sending out the crops?”
Cheyenne smiled. “At this point it seems like a nice thought.”
She turned and saw his eyes reflecting the shimmering light in the distance.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“It’s better that none of you know,” he said. “It’s to protect everybody. The same reason none of you have seen the Reckoner. The most valuable commodity in the world today is privacy. It’s the biggest thing that’s been stolen from people in the last thirty years.”
“But what will you be doing?” she asked her father. “Is it dangerous?”
“I will be fine.” Keith turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been fine so far, right? Don’t worry. God has a plan. He’s always had a plan.”
“Did that include becoming a single parent?” she asked, her tone not biting but sincere.
“That’s a fair question.”
“I don’t think there’s anything fair about it,” Cheyenne stated.
“Do you know what first broke me? What God used to get my attention? It was when your mother told me she was leaving me. The first time she threatened it, years before she finally just left. You were only ten months old.”
He turned again to the endless field in front of them and propped a foot on the fence. The glow of the fading sun lit his face. She noticed the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and the way his eyes looked more weighted with sadness. He looked west as if he were still looking for her to finally come back.
“She got angry—she was a mess—and she told me that she was going to leave. That both of you would. She was going to take our ten-month-old baby and leave. We argued. She threatened me, and I threatened her. I remember she took off somewhere, and I tried to get you to take your afternoon nap. I rocked you back and forth, and while you slept, all I could do was cry and pray. I didn’t know if anyone was listening to me, but I was hopeless and desperate. And you know what I prayed?”
He smiled at her, looking grateful and sad at the same time. “I asked God not to take you away. I said I would do anything—anything. I begged Him to keep me as your father. To protect you. To allow me to look after you. And you know, twenty-six years later I’m still praying that.”
“I’m sorry she left,” Cheyenne said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“I am too. For both of us. She came back for a while but couldn’t handle the responsibilities. But, Chy, God answered my prayer then. And I know He’ll answer my prayer now too. I know He already has. You being here. You heading to Colorado Springs without knowing anything for certain. That was an answer to prayer, especially since I know you and your rational personality.”
“If you prayed so hard for me, why aren’t you coming with me?” she asked.
“It’s not your heart I’m praying for,” he said. “It’s your soul. I don’t want yours to have to be as broken as mine before you lift your eyes to heaven.”
“I don’t understand why you have to do this.”
Looking at the horizon no longer seemed to interest her father as he faced her with a serious look. “We’re not all here because of a random intervention. We’ve been called because God sees something in us. We’re all part of God’s greater plan. The famous rapper. Malek and you. The others helping out this prophet God sent. There was no way people could’ve learned the truth, not so many and not like this, without all of us.”
“So your role was what? Convincing your daughter to come find you?”
Keith Burne could only chuckle. “Well, it’s more like convincing everybody to come find me. I’ve been a decoy for a long time. But you—you—were the one, the only one, able to deliver that message to people.”
“You have Malek.”
“Yes, but he didn’t do the specific work you did. And I knew the only way to get your full attention and your buy-in was to put you on a mission. That always worked better when you were a child. A lot better than my coming to you and telling you what to do. I had to disappear. But when I needed to reach you, I had to invite you to come find me.”
The clouds above them didn’t seem to move. Rather, it was as if an artist kept revising the painting, shading the hues and brushing the streaks of sunlight and allowing the horizon to tremble in its beauty.
“Why do you have to be a decoy?” she asked.
“Because God wants me to be. And I know you probably don’t understand that, but I hope and pray one day you will. Not in a hopes-and-prayers sort of way, but in a knees-on-the-floor, can’t-go-on-anymore, authentic Lord’s Prayer sort of way.”
“Daddy, please,” she said, looking at him and trying to make him understand. She couldn’t fathom losing him. Again.
“Chy, if today was your last day on earth, what would happen to you tomorrow? Where would you be?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I understand that. B
ut I do know. I have faith that I’ll be entering eternity. I don’t have to see the sun to know it’s out there. When it finally turns to night, I don’t have to wonder if it’s going to rise again. My belief is like that. God doesn’t have to show me heaven for me to know it’s real.”
4.
The white glow engulfed her as the screen sprawled out in front of her, the black text hovering like swarms of bees, ready to be scanned. Cheyenne couldn’t sleep in this hotel room. Instead, she was thinking about what her father had said and wondering where he had gone.
Malek, Jazz, and Cheyenne had said goodbye to Keith Burne and then made the four-hour drive to Grand Rapids, Michigan. A couple of hotel rooms had been reserved for them, so they slipped into them shortly after midnight. Instead of resting, Cheyenne felt locked up and watched. She also couldn’t stop thinking of everything her dad had said and the confidence he exhibited, even when he gave her a farewell hug and smile before departing.
They had watched the live scenes unfolding in downtown Chicago, the fires blazing and the rioters turning violent. The full details and documents of their message had been digested, and now it wasn’t only citizens demanding action but politicians and leaders all across the country. Jackson Heyford and Acatour were now seen as predators and controlling invaders that had to be stopped.
She needed to read every last word, so she did what her father had suggested and began to read the message they had sent to the nation. She’d already read enough of it to get the gist. Like the rest of the country, she believed Heyford and his corporation were guilty of many despicable things.
I don’t want to read this because I feel guilt too.
EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG.
This is a wake-up call to this nation.
You are being monitored and manipulated by men like Jackson Heyford, CEO of Acatour and the PASK division.
The very same technology and tools we’re using to break into your SYNAPSYS are the ones they’re using to watch you. To control you. To lie to you.
American Omens Page 33