Persecution: God's Other Children. Book 2

by Rob Mclean

  “Not at all, but we all know I’m not your favourite person.”

  “Now that’s not entirely true. There are much worse people in this world.” Her stance relaxed slightly. “If things were different…”

  “If I had more money, perhaps?” John was sure that Angela had told her mother at least as much about his family as he had heard from her about Zeke’s.

  “Don’t be a fool. That has nothing to do with it.” Clarice waved dismissively and shook her head. “It’s not as though we’re rolling in it ourselves.”

  “All the more reason to catch a rich boy?” John knew that wasn’t really the reason, but he was feeling spiteful and getting beyond caring about what this old woman thought of him.

  ‘Take it easy, son,’ his father’s voice cautioned in his head.

  “Ezekiel’s of the faith. Which is more than I can say of you.”

  “And that’s it? That’s all that’s stopping me from getting your tick of approval?”

  “It’s no small thing, especially these days.”

  “You mean the alien envoy?”

  Clarice gave him a wild glare. “Understand, we’re in the Last Days. Now is the time of Tribulation before the final battles of Armageddon. After that our Lord will return and when he does we all had better be right with him.” Clarice jabbed her scrawny index finger at him. “So Angela doesn’t need to be dragged down by any worldliness, and that includes a heathen like you.”

  With that she slammed the door shut.

  “What if I were to become a Christian?” John said to the cowbell hanging next to the door handle. He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He thought about knocking on the door again, but this time harder.

  ‘Give her time,’ his father’s voice said as he raised his fist to knock.

  “We don’t have time. They’re moving away, remember?” John said to himself, letting his exasperation known.

  ‘Have faith,’ his father’s voice replied, immune to John’s frustrations.

  “Is that all you’ve got, old man? Have faith, ha!”

  The door opened again.

  Clarice stood with her feet apart and with one fist on her hip. With the other she poked at John.

  “Don’t you forget those pills now, for Geoffrey, like you promised.” Then she shut the door again. This time John heard it lock.

  ‘Ha,’ his father’s voice said with a hint of satisfaction.

  Chapter 39

  In the pre-dawn glimmer, John sat with his squad leaders in the command vehicle. Outside, to the north, the first rays of the sun lit the tops of the hills behind Brentwood.

  John had expected the Buddhist temple they were scheduled to close today would have a fancy oriental tiled roof, replete with dragon cornices, which would radiate a golden glow as it greeted the gathering dawn. He had pictured it nestled on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the sea with a full moon retreating before the rising sun.

  He was disappointed to find it to be a very average looking two-storied, slate-roofed, suburban building in a semi-residential locale. The only hint that it might be a temple, besides the signage, was the Japanese garden with neatly clipped, styled bushes and miniature bonsai-like fir trees.

  After the public debacle with the last church closure, John was personally supervising this one. He didn’t want to give Eloise any cause for complaint.

  He had sorted the transport days ago and now half a dozen buses were idling a few blocks away awaiting his word. He had delegated tasks to each squad leader and in the days leading up to this raid, they had rehearsed their co-ordinated approach in training until even he was certain of it.

  He had cordoned off the surrounding streets, but at this time of the day, when the city was at its quietest, he was only inconveniencing the newspaper deliveries and the early morning joggers.

  Most people were sleeping off the seemingly endless celebrations and partying that had accompanied the abolition of religion. The media had portrayed the recent changes as the removal of a disapproving, tyrannical, religious minority. It was hailed as a giant leap forward for personal freedoms and human rights. The endless benefits to humanity had been extolled and the future had suddenly become a lot brighter. It had the effect to lift the mood of the rest of the population as well as their inhibitions.

  On the downside, there had been instances of religious people being harassed and assaulted. Lynching would follow, John was sure of it. It was human nature, as if after centuries of being told how to live their lives by the religious moralists, some people were determined to exact some form of revenge. It really was for their own good that the few religious holdouts were being relocated.

  He didn’t expect any trouble from the Buddhists. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be pacifists. They certainly hadn’t caused any trouble so far, but he wasn’t taking anything for granted. The last thing he needed was Eloise on his back. He wanted to avoid her, if possible. She hadn’t reminded him of her proposal for a while, but he knew she wasn’t the sort of person to forget.

  He pushed the recurring image of Eloise sitting astride him from his mind. Sharing his line manager’s proposal with Angela probably hadn’t been the best move, but he didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. He wanted her to trust him – had wanted, he corrected himself. He had to keep reminding himself that she had ended things with him- called it off, complete with a ‘Dear John text’, and moved on, let him go, whatever she wanted to call it, he felt used and dumped – and not a little angry.

  John had told his brother Jarred – he had to tell someone - but in typically sympathetic fashion he had simply shrugged and said, “Shit happens.”

  Later, as if to justify his lack of empathy, Jarred tried to tell John that he was better off without her.

  “She’s moving away, probably to another country, and it’s not as if you’re going too, is it?”

  John had to admit that his ever logical brother was right. He couldn’t really see himself giving up everything –his job, his family and friends – to live like the Amish in some far away enclave, just to be with Angela. Not now, not after she had so casually dumped him.

  Was she getting back with Zeke? But her mother had said that he wasn’t back on the scene, not yet at least… He didn’t want any trouble today, but that wasn’t to say that if he happened to lay eyes on Zeke, he wouldn’t make sure the spoilt kid got arrested, and that he resisted arrest – repeatedly. He savoured that image, but told himself that it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t help him get back with Angela.

  ‘No, stop it,’ he told himself. ‘She has moved on and I should too…’

  He would move on, but it felt like there was now a part of his life missing. Not a hole, but a gaping maw that constantly pulled at his mind, bringing him back to the same question – why?

  He had been a perfect gentleman and had done everything she had asked, including that chastity vow, and this is how she repays him. He felt like he was caught too near the event horizon of a black hole, one that threatened to devour his every waking thought.

  Grace snapped her fingers under John’s nose. “Wakey, wakey Johnny boy. We gotta roll.”

  John grunted roughly at her, but he was more cross with himself for letting himself get distracted. He grabbed his gear. “Yep, time to go.”

  Outside the command van, the sun had risen. Long, sharp, cool shadows paid homage to the start of a new day.

  They passed the pair of L.A.P.D. patrol cars and gave a lazy salute to the officers within. They gave him a grudgingly minimal acknowledgement, barely lifting their coffees in return. He was sure that Angela’s father, Geoff, would disown them.

  They were only there in case his authority was challenged, but as the company was acting on behalf of the state of California, that wasn’t likely to happen. They were redundant, priced out of this job, and they knew it, but they didn’t have to like it. Judging by their generous waistlines, he was glad he didn’t have to rely on them today.

  The teams of para
medics were more alert, but they would be, as they were sub-contracted by BlackSky to attend today. They were obliged to look after any injuries sustained by company personnel foremost, but they would also look after anyone else who may need treatment as a result of the company’s actions today.

  Overhead, John saw helicopters. Their glinting glass capsules caught his attention before the repetitive, percussive beat of their blades reached his ears.

  He squinted to see their logos. News helicopters, no doubt. Like flies to trash, he thought. But how did they know? Did he have an informer tipping them off? Was that how Zeke had managed to show up every time? Had Angela been telling him? If so, he shouldn’t be here today then – he hadn’t had the chance to tell her about this job before she…

  “Nice day for it,” Grace said, following his gaze. “Or were you still daydreaming about that girlfriend of yours? W hat’s her name?”

  John didn’t want to let her know how accurate her question was.

  “Angela,” he rumbled. “And we’re not… anymore.”

  “That so?” Grace grinned. John couldn’t understand what she could find so amusing about his pain.

  “Yeah.”

  “Never took her for an idiot,” Grace lifted her face in silent worship to the morning sun, her eyes closed as she walked. Her grin broadened as she opened her eyes to look at John. “Except maybe the first night when she let herself get drugged…”

  John shot her a disapproving frown.

  “I mean,” Grace continued to soak up the first rays like a pagan sun-worshipper, “She’d have to be wouldn’t she?”

  “She’s not. She’s just…”

  “To let a catch like you go, wouldn’t she?” Grace kept her eyes closed, facing the sun.

  “Yeah… thanks,” was all John could say. Her understanding and sympathy had caught him unawares. He felt the tension leave his shoulders as his mood lifted.

  “But Grace, there’s more to it.”

  “I’m sure there is Johnny, I’m sure there is.”

  “More than you know,” John said.

  Grace turned and stopped him with a gloved hand on his chest.

  “I might not know all the details,” Grace grinned, “but this old girl’s been around for a few years and I know what I’d be doing if I was her. In particular, knowing you and specially now, with all this shit going down.”

  John’s brow wrinkled with the effort of trying to work out what she was on about.

  “She’s testing you, Johnny.” Grace gave him a gentle slap on his cheek. He remembered his dream and it was if she had zapped him with a Taser. The woman in yellow, Tinkerbell, had said the same thing.

  “See, you know I’m right.” Grace’s grin broke out into a laugh as she turned and walked towards the temple.

  John followed in contemplative silence across the street. The woman in yellow, supposedly Angela’s guardian angel, who had plagued his dreams, had said that the testing had only just begun.

  ‘Was this what she meant?’ John wondered as she walked ahead. ‘If so, what am I supposed to do?’

  There was no answer before he had to scurry to catch up to Grace.

  With the squads confirmed as being in position, John and Grace walked together up the garden path, to the front entrance.

  They carried their helmets in their hands – a deliberate ploy to try to not look too much like some faceless drone – but to show they were ready if they had to be. It was one of the initiatives Eloise had gleaned from the mountain of reports they had submitted after the last church closure.

  They were trying to show that they were ordinary people, just doing their jobs. A calculated, cost-effective appeal to reason before having to resort to force.

  “Lotsa cars in the parking lot,” Grace noted in passing as they approached the door.

  Did that mean the place was full of people already, at this time of day? Or were they squatting there, living there even?

  John had to admit he had no idea how these people did things. He had assumed that they would all go back to their homes at the end of their services, like Angela’s church did. But maybe people actually lived there and they’d have to search the whole place, dragging people out room by room?

  Grace rang the ornate brass bell that hung by the door.

  Before the reverberation had left their ears, the door was opened by an older Asian man, dressed in a formal business suit and tie. Over it, he wore a silken robe. His dark eyes took in both John and Grace, as well as the profusion of squaddies and their vehicles, in a glance.

  “It is time, already?” his voice laden with a profound sadness.

  “Good morning, sir,” Grace started with the rehearsed company dialogue, “I am Grace and this is John. He’ll be in charge of operations today…”

  “Will he?”

  Grace ignored his question and continued with her preamble. “In compliance with laws enacted by the State of California and its allegiant counties, following the recent global referendum, we are hereby ordered to…”

  John stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He offered his other to the immaculately dressed Buddhist.

  The Buddhist shook John’s hand with the same comfortable warmth as Pastor Greg had done.

  “Daisojo Kodo Rinzai.” A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “But you can call me ‘Kodo’.” He spoke with no accent and John judged him to have been born and raised in the U.S.

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but it’s time to go.

  The Buddhist gave him a sad smile and nodded.

  “Do you know what day it is?” the Buddhist, Kodo, asked quietly.

  John and Grace looked at each other before shrugging.

  “21st September?” Grace suggested.

  Their answer brought a brief smile to the older man’s face.

  “Yes, for us it is the time of the Higan festival.”

  Seeing the blank looks on both John and Grace’s faces, Kodo continued. “Higan is celebrated twice a year, for a week during the Spring and Fall Equinoxes. It is a time of the year when the days and nights are equal, the ying and yang in perfect balance. It is a sacred time for us.”

  The older Buddhist walked past John and Grace, towards the street, as he spoke. They followed him like a pair of acolyte monks.

  “‘Higan’ actually means ‘the other shore’ – of Nirvana.” Kodo gave them a questioning look. “You have heard of Nirvana?”

  Grace rolled her eyes and pointedly checked her watch. John just nodded. He was silently thankful she hadn’t mentioned Kurt Cobain.

  “It’s a service of reflection, when we meditate on the harmony of nature and devote ourselves to the realization of this harmony in our inner lives.”

  “Well, there isn’t too much harmony these days,” John said, ushering the older Buddhist towards the waiting vans.

  Behind them a procession of people filed out onto the street. A dozen or more lead the parade and were dressed in flowing saffron robes of many warm colours of reds through to yellows.

  Others followed, dressed more conservatively. Most were chanting, but some were weeping quietly and others were openly wailing. Some were recording the event on their own cameras and phones.

  “During this time, we emphasise the Six Paramitas, or precepts which lead us to higher understanding and helps our souls to reach the other shore.” Kodo spoke solemnly, as if imparting a great knowledge.

  John caught a whiff of gasoline as the old Buddhist spoke. He lifted his head about to find where it was coming from.

  Grace’s nose wrinkled. “You smell that?”

  “Check the vans,” John ordered. He didn’t need any breakdowns, but he also wondered if they might have been sabotaged. It was just the sort of thing Zeke would do…

  “By practicing the six Paramitas; charity, morality, patience, right effort, right meditation, and right wisdom, we can leave the wheel of reincarnation and reach the Other Shore.” The old monk spoke calmly as they continued to walk away from the temple. I
t was in contrast to the rising concern John felt.

  “Well, check all the vehicles,” The shrillness in Grace’s voice as she relayed John’s orders reflected the growing dread in the pit of John’s stomach. Something wasn’t right.

  He scanned the vehicles he could see. The squaddies stood near them, at the ready, but relatively relaxed. They didn’t look worried, not like they would if they could smell gasoline.

  Then it occurred to John – they couldn’t smell it. It wasn’t coming from the vehicles. It must be coming from…

  John turned back towards the temple. The monks in the saffron robes had sat themselves in a cross-legged Zen pose, lined along the road. They were close enough to each other that they were linked, holding hands in a multi-coloured Buddhist daisy chain along the middle of the street. Behind them the congregation stood well back, weeping and praying.

  Kodo tried to hold John back, gripping John’s arm with surprising strength with both hands.

  “Understand,” he pleaded, “it is our way. It is how we protest.”

  Grace broke the old man’s grip on John’s arm and was about to put him in an arm-lock when a cry of alarm rose from all around.

  A monk at one end was on fire. Hungry, young flames surged up into the air, engulfing the monk’s seated form. A cigarette lighter fell from his flaming hand.

  John watched in stunned horror, as the flames spread to the next monk, who was still calmly holding his burning brother’s other hand. In a moment the flames had leapt along the whole line. Incredibly the monks sat like statues, silent and unmoving. A wince or a grimace on some of the faces was the only indication of the agony they must be feeling.

  “Get fire extinguishers,” John bellowed to the squaddies over the roaring flames. They had been just as stupefied and shocked as he. “There must be fire hoses around somewhere.”

  He and Grace ran into the temple, pushing roughly through the crowd, to find some fire extinguishers. They had to be here somewhere, state by-laws says a public building like this had to have them…

  The smell of charred flesh filled John’s nose as he ran. Smoke stung his eyes and hysterical screeching filled his ears.