Wired

by Robert L. Wise

  “Of course,” Graham conceded.

  Matthew put his finger under a line in the Bible and started reading again. “Listen carefully. ‘Then we who are alive, who are left, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord.’” He looked up. “That's what happened to all of those people. They were Christians; they were raptured.”

  “Raptured!” George spoke virtually for the first time that evening. “I've never heard of that word before.”

  “It's how some Christians describe the experience that they anticipated would happen,” Matt explained. “At the end of the age, they believed they would be taken out of this word just before a time of wars, strife, and terrible tribulation.”

  “Stop!” Graham said. “You're telling me that all of those people were simply jettisoned up and out of this world?”

  “Dad, that's why the churches are empty.” Matt grinned. “It makes perfect sense. These Christian people left and the churches are empty even today.”

  Graham kept blinking. “It makes sense but… I…don't… know.”

  “We haven't believed in this sort of thing,” Jackie said. “You are talking as if you came in tonight from another world.”

  “I have, Mom. Most of these people in the New Seekers group already knew a great deal about the Christian faith before this Rapture happened, but they weren't committed to Christ. Several of these people are Jewish and they knew the Old Testament inside out. That's what has bound them together in such a secret group.”

  “I don't know, Matthew,” Graham said. “You've found a couple of amazing answers, but that doesn't prove the Bible is correct or even comprehensive.”

  Matthew flipped back through the pages again. “I want you to hear some more. Listen to what Jesus promised was coming. ‘And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that you are not alarmed; for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places: all this is but the beginning of the sufferings.’”

  Graham could feel the blood draining from his face. “Lately we've heard of nothing but strife, fighting, killings.” He shook his head again. “Right now we are in another war.”

  “Want me to tell you about this war that just broke out?” Matt said. “We studied it last night.”

  Jackie's mouth dropped. “You studied it?”

  “Adah Honi is Jewish,” Matt explained. “Her family was caught up in one of the wars around Jerusalem and she came to the United States to study even though she's older than the average college student. Adah has an amazing grasp of the Old Testament.”

  Jackie ran her hand nervously through her hair. “I don't even know what to think about what you are saying, Matthew. Good heavens! What did this woman say about the current war?”

  “Look.” Matthew put his finger in a section of the Old Testament. “At least five hundred and fifty years before the Christian era, Ezekiel wrote these words. That's two thousand and five hundred years ago. In those days they called the regions that are now Russia by the name of Gog an Magog. Ezekiel 38 and 39 predict the time when Gog Magog or Russia attacks Israel. Here's what's going to happen to the Russians.”

  “You're telling me that this last war was prophesied centuries ago?” Graham blurted out.

  “Listen to it, Dad.” Matthew started reading. “‘You shall fall upon the mountains of Israel, you and all your hordes and the peoples that are with you; I will give you to birds of prey of every sort and to the wild beasts to be devoured. You shall fall in the open field; for I have spoken, says the Lord God. I will send fire on Magog and on those who dwell securely in the coastland.’” He stopped. “Isn't that what just happened?”

  Graham started to speak, but stopped.

  “Well,” Matthew pushed, “hasn't every word that I just read to you happened in the past six months? We have been living through the final chapter of human history.”

  The countenance on the faces of both George and Jeff changed. Depression was replaced by fascination. The two boys kept shaking their head.

  “You bet!” George said with new enthusiasm in his voice.

  “I guess I didn't expect anything quite so dramatic, so final,” Graham said. He took a deep breath. “I don't know what I was expecting.” He stood up and started pacing back and forth. “Matthew, how many people know about what this New Seekers group is teaching?”

  “It's a small group, but I think it's going to grow fast. When this word gets out, it's going to create a big stir.”

  “Look, son. The times are going to get worse, much tighter with far, far greater security. You've got to be careful. Some people would be very upset if they heard these explanations.”

  “Why?” Matthew frowned. “We're not doing anything but studying an ancient book.”

  “I know. I know, but the world is spinning out of control, and there are some people out there who want to bring it under their domination. You have no idea what they might be willing to do to stop the spread of this story you've just told us.”

  Matthew leaned back in his chair and frowned for the first time. “Maybe that's why this group is so secret. Someone has already figured out that we could get into some kind of trouble.”

  Graham put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “Take them seriously, son! This is no time to be playing with explosive and dangerous ideas!”

  CHAPTER 29

  THE BALLROOM of the Mid-America Exposition Center only blocks from the reelection offices of Mayor Bridges overflowed for the celebration of the local and national election results. Balloons floated across the gigantic room and streamers hung from the rafters far overhead. Around the mammoth room, monitors placed at the top of the ceiling flashed the returns from across America as well as Chicago. Periodically a local band would break into a number and people would start dancing. Secluded in the back of the building, Bridges huddled with his closest advisors.

  “We've clearly won.” Jake Pemrose sorted through the numbers coming in on his monitor. “No question about it.” He puffed on his black cigar. “We're the big winners.”

  “But what's the margin?” Bridges pushed. “Just winning isn't enough.” He stood up and walked over to a mirror to look at his tuxedo tailored in a turn-of-the-century style that reflected the stability and prosperity of another day.

  “Man, you're tough tonight,” Al Meacham said. “After all a win is a win. Isn't it?”

  Bridges shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  “Hey!” Jack Stratton said with a cynical twist in his words. “Frank, we can keep our machine running. What more could we want?” He gulped a beer sitting in front of him.

  Bridges shot a cold-eyed glance loaded with meaning at Graham Peck. In an instant Graham concluded that Stratton and Meacham knew nothing about the arrangement Bridges had made with Borden Carson. The mayor's interest in the White House wasn't obvious to them. Pemrose might know, but he was he only one.

  “I'm going out there to make any statements until we are at least fifteen points ahead of the margin I won by in the last election,” Bridges said. “I have something special to say and I want that big of an edge to make my point.”

  Stratton rubbed his forehead nervously. “That's a pretty good swath, Frank. I don't know.”

  “That's where I'm standing,” Bridges said emphatically. “Let me know as soon as we get those numbers.”

  “I'm going outside to talk to my wife,” Graham said. “If you need me, buzz me on my pager. It may be hard to hear out there.”

  The mayor nodded. “Enjoy yourself Graham. You've done a great job on the campaign. Have a good time.”

  Graham quickly walked out of the room. He didn't like the smoke-filled conferences and Pemrose's arrogance bothered him. The noise in the ballroom was better than sitting around in the cigar smoke generated by Bridges's boys. Looking for Jackie, he walked into the back of the ballroom. On the south side of the hall the national election numbers
were pouring in over the television screen. Clearly their party was also carrying the U.S. Senate.

  “Graham!” Jackie yelled. “Over here!”

  Just beyond a wild conversation among a crowd of celebrants, Graham could see Jackie sitting next to one of the exit doors. Pushing through the people, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her outside into the night air.

  “I can't even think in that riot, much less talk,” Graham said and kissed her on the cheek. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

  “Thank you, Graham. I wore this gown just for you.”

  “It's beautiful.” Graham smiled. “I'll be glad when the big party is over and we can get out of here.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Did you make sure Mary listened to the recording of our conversation with Matthew?”

  “She groaned and complained, but I made her listen to every word. Of course, none of her friends' families function as a unit. She wants to be a lone wolf like buddies.”

  “And?” Graham motioned with his hand for Jackie to say more.

  “Religious ideas turn Mary off. She got rather nasty and I was forced to stand firm.”

  “I don't care what she thought,” Graham retorted angrily. “We are a family and Matthew has up with information that we can't ignore. She'll listen whether she likes it or not.”

  Jackie nervously ran her hands through her hair. “I don't know what to think of it myself. Everything Matthew showed us makes sense, but who takes the Bible seriously?”

  “Millions of people once did, Jackie. Maybe that's where we started going wrong.”

  “I can't put it all together. I am terrified by what the world is turning into. On the other hand, the Bible seems like such an antiquated, ancient book to have anything to say in our contemporary world.”

  “I know,” Graham said. “I know, but Matthew has given us more concrete direction than anyone and it came out of that book. We can't overlook the facts.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we ought to go back inside.”

  Jackie slid her arm inside his. “Okay, let's join the hullabaloo.”

  Walking back inside, they found the gathering had only grown in size. Balloons kept popping and some of the streamers from high up on the ceiling broke loose and drifted toward the floor adding to the sense of organized chaos. Most of the people had been drinking and were talking or shouting far too loud. Jackie and Graham stayed close to the back door.

  Television screens flashed the numbers, suggesting a national landslide and, for Bridges, smashing returns from all over Chicago. Fifteen minutes later an anchorman announced that Frank Bridges would appear momentarily.

  “Is Frank descending from heaven or walking on water when he enters?” Jackie asked cynically.

  “He's arriving in a chariot of fire.”

  Suddenly Mayor Frank Bridges burst through a curtain in the center of the ballroom. Instantly, his face appeared on every television screen along with his wife and two adult children. For five minutes, he marched back and forth across the platform like a triumphant gladiator while the mob screamed their applause.

  “He's the big winner,” Jackie said. “No question about it.”

  “You've got it,” Graham answered dryly. “On to Washington!”

  The noise started to subside and Bridges began motioning for people to become silent. It took another full minute for the throng to settle down.

  “I just received a congratulatory phone call from my opponent wishing us success in the next term,” Bridges began and the herd shouted their acceptance.

  “We cannot afford to sit on our laurels.” Bridges's voice instantly changed from the sound of a winner, to again becoming the serious candidate selling his audience a new set of ideas. “The times are too dangerous!”

  The crowd murmured their concurrence.

  “As we have seen in recent days, Chicago is vulnerable to attack. As many as a thousand boats float into our harbors nearly every hour. Possibly only two percent are inspected.” Bridges shook his head emphatically. “A dirty bomb smuggled in on one of those vessels and detonated in our harbor could contaminate this entire metroplex for a century! Anyone can see our problem.”

  Once again the mob moaned and groaned. Obviously, they were completely with Bridges.

  “Petroleum needs continue to be pressing.” Bridges stopped and let the pause settle. “But I have anticipated these needs and have already prepared a response.”

  The crowd exploded in cheers and applause again, sounding like he could propose they walk off the edge of the universe and all would join lockstep behind him.

  “Many of you are acquainted with Borden Camber Carson and his petroleum empire. Mr. Carson has assured me that our needs in the Chicago metroplex will receive his personal attention and we will be supplied at the lowest possible price.”

  Once again Bridges's supporters rocked the room with wild, enthusiastic applause. The noise of their support was being transmitted across America via the television networks and it sounded like Bridges was Everyman's messiah of the hour.

  “Further”–Bridges cleared his throat and waited for the noise to subside again– “I have already put in motion a series of steps to further insulate you form attack. We are going to make Chicago the safest city in the world by installing a system of increased surveillance to make sure no one can be attacked without that information being instantly transmitted to the police headquarters. In addition, Mr. Carson will help us with the expense.”

  The crowd shifted from radical support to near mass hysteria. Bridges had in effect just said “I won, and I'm taking over everything in sight,” and the public had screamed their acceptance.

  Sitting in the corner with his wife, Graham remained silent but he kept looking around the room, wondering if the election headquarters had turned into an insane asylum.

  “What do you think?” Jackie asked, putting her mouth to Graham's ear.

  “I'm troubled, deeply troubled. We need to get out of here. This place is a nut house. I've got a great deal to think about tonight.” Graham reached for Jackie's arm and headed for the exit.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE DAY-AFTER-THE-ELECTION party at Mayor Bridges's headquarters rolled on with the same raucous blowout that had erupted the night before. The mayor had conveniently ducked out of the office, but the staff and secretaries kept the wild binge spinning. Graham Peck arrived at the office an hour late because he didn't expect much work to get done that day. When he walked in, the party was going full tilt.

  “Happy days are here again…” One of the men stood up on his desk and sang the old political song as loud as a drunken sailor. Several other rather well-looped men surrounded him and hummed along. The group looked like a fraternity quartet, preparing to launch into an interplanetary orbit.

  Graham watched the scene for a moment, thinking it looked almost like at any moment the entire office would turn into a Roman orgy. To Graham the scene seemed to show how drastically the society had changed in the last thirty years. Increased casualness and loss of significant personal relationships had turned into a world where frivolity, spontaneity, and pleasure ruled the day. Any opportunity for amusement or diversion was seized as a personal right. Looseness invaded every encounter. Men and women stood intertwined and sequestered in the dark corners of the office Graham didn't like the picture, but he realized there was nothing he could do on this “morning after” blast except get out of the way.

  Ducking his head, he hurried to his office and shut the door behind him. At least, his suite was secluded. Graham stood there in the silence and thought about what he heard Bridges say last night and shuddered. Those stupid local supporters of the Bridges's campaign had no idea that they were wildly applauding the installation of “the eye” in every corner of their lives. Their homes, their offices, the streets, stores, and even subways would be wired with cameras watching everything. Rather than applaud, they should be boarding up their windows.

  Abruptly the door burst open.
“There you are!” Sarah Cates giggled. “You should have gotten here earlier. What a party!”

  Graham studied her for a moment. She had obviously been drinking heavily and looked well past the edge of sobriety. Sarah had a wild, carefree gleam in her eye.

  Shutting the door behind her, Sarah grinned. “What's up today, boss?” She sauntered across the room toward him. “Surely, we're not going to work this morning.”

  Graham cleared his throat. “Well, I guess most of our Work is finished as far as the election goes, but I know there will be other…”

  “Really?” Sarah suddenly slid directly in front of him and lightly stroked the side of his face. “Graham, the only thing wrong with you is that you're always so distant.”

  Graham felt the warmth of her hand caressing his cheek. He had carefully avoided sending Sarah any suggestive signals, but she was a very attractive woman, too attractive to be standing nearly on top of him. “Wh-what?” he sputtered.

  “You've enticed me like… I believe they once said… like a moth to the flame.” Sarah's voice settled into a husky, lusty quality. “You always have.” Her other hand gently touched his tie and then moved up to the other side of his face. “And I don't want someone as gorgeous as you to disappear.” Sarah pulled his head forward and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

  Graham didn't move. At first he was shocked and then he realized how much he enjoyed the kiss, but his wits kicked in and he pulled back. “Sarah… please.” He caught his breath. “You've been drinking too much and we're both married.” He pointed at the door. “I want you to go back outside and we'll both pretend this didn't happen. Understand?”

  Sarah's eyes widened and she blinked several times. “I'm not playing with you, Graham. Everyone has lovers today and here I am offering myself to you.”

  Graham rubbed his chin. “Sarah, please go back to your desk.” He stumbled at choosing the right words.

  “Now?”

  “Yes.” Graham nodded his head. “Right now.”