by Rob Mclean
Besides being Zeke’s wife she knew as a fellow Christian, she had a duty to help him in his Christian walk, which meant helping him keep out of trouble. She knew she would have to talk to him out of his vengeance fuelled plans.
“Do we get to sing again?” Maddie asked to all the faces around her.
“No, sorry sweetie,” Angela said. “We have to go now.”
“Okay,” she said without protest as she reached out for her brother’s hand.
“Well…” Angela felt her spirit stir and her heart quicken. “There was this song we were singing before you got here…”
Maddie’s face lit up and her eyes brightened with hopeful expectation. It gladdened Angela’s heart and leant her courage, so even though her throat had become dry she took a grounding breath and in a soft shaky voice, began to sing;
‘Though the tears may fall,
My song will rise,
My song will rise to You…’
People nearby turned to listen. A few, including Pastor Greg decided to join in.
‘Though my heart may fail,
My song will rise,
My song will rise to You…’
Angela felt her spirit soar. Her small act of defiance, although not as grand as Zeke’s plans, was her own way of protesting. An image of her inner voice, the golden robed woman appeared, bestowing her approval.
‘While there's breath in my lungs
I will praise You, Lord…’
As more people joined in the security staff started to notice the commotion. Some looked to their superiors for direction, who in turn conferred amongst themselves.
The acoustic guitar player, some guy Angela didn’t know from some another church, took up the tune. As he approached, more people added their voices.
‘In the dead of night,
I'll lift my eyes,
I'll lift my eyes to You…’
Maddie clapped her hands in time to the tune and beamed widely. John however, looked decidedly uncomfortable. Angela could see he was hyper-alert, his body tense with his head turning about the room, looking for threats.
‘Though the waters rise,
I'll lift my eyes,
I'll lift my eyes to You…’
Angela saw a security woman put her finger to her ear and her hand over her other ear. She then barked out orders to officers in riot gear and pointed in her direction. Angela watched with growing trepidation as the troopers extended their telescopic batons with a cruel flick.
She closed her eyes and prayed as she kept singing.
‘While there's hope in this heart
I will praise You, Lord…’
Angela opened her eyes and saw that the guitar player had caught up and stood alongside their growing group. He too saw the advancing troops but gave her a nervous nod to acknowledge their solidarity as they all picked up their tempo for the chorus.
‘The joy of the Lord is my strength,
The joy of the Lord is my strength.
In the darkness I'll dance,
In the shadows I'll sing.
The joy of the Lord is my strength…’
“Where’s the media when you want them?” John growled as he pulled out his phone. “Here, get this on video,” he said, handing his phone to Angela. “I reckon we might be needing a record of all this.”
Angela nodded and took his phone. She saw it was already recording. They launched into the second verse as the troopers stepped in.
‘When I cannot see You with my eyes
Let faith arise to You…’
The notes were strangled when a black gloved hand smothered the guitar strings. The voices stopped as the singers faced off against a pair of security men. They all waited for the troopers’ next move.
The guitar player broke the silent standoff. “That’s private property, my friend.”
“It’s an instrument being used to promote civil unrest,” the security woman said in her most officious voice, as she approached. “Under the modified Homeland Security laws…”
As she spoke, the trooper pulled out a long jagged combat knife. He made a display of showing it to his audience before using it to slice the guitar strap. He then pushed the guitar onto the guitarist, who fell backwards. The trooper kept hold of the offending instrument as the player fell to the ground. He held his prize aloft momentarily before throwing it away behind him.
“Why did he do that?” Maddie asked.
“He’s just trying to do his job,” John said, not taking his eyes off the trooper.
“Because he’s an angry, bad man,” Angela added, glaring at the trooper.
“Disarming a hostile, girlie,” the trooper said, turning to Angela, his knife extended.
John stepped forward. His right hand flashed, in a quick sweeping fluid move, he grabbed the trooper’s knife hand at the wrist.
John’s left palm drove into the back of the troopers outstretched arm, pushing the elbow painfully inwards.
With a scream, the trooper dropped his knife. John twisted the trooper’s arm upwards and outwards. He stepped in and with his right foot, sent the trooper skidding backwards with a powerful kick. He then kicked the knife towards the other trooper.
“That’s how to disarm a hostile,” John said, his breath drawn deeply through gritted teeth.
To Angela he added, “Look after Maddie, will you?”
Numbly, she nodded.
To the equally stunned security woman, John extended both his wrists. “Okay, you can arrest me now.”
The second trooper brought his baton down on John’s arms. An angry rushed blow, but it brought a cry of pain. It was quickly followed by another to the back of his knees. John fell forwards, his face contorted with pain.
Angela moved to help him, but Pastor Greg held her back. Maddie wailed and threw herself on top of her brother.
The trooper had his baton raised, ready to strike, but hesitated. He grabbed Maddie with his free hand to pull her away, but she clung tighter and screamed.
“Stop,” the female officer in charge ordered. To the onlookers, she ordered them to step back. More troopers arrived to enforce her commands. Her eyes then went to her injured colleague.
People watched as he picked himself up. He rubbed his elbow and flexed it, assuring himself that it still worked.
The commander then nodded towards the little girl, who was still whimpering.
“Maddie,” John said as calmly as he could manage, though Angela could see it was an effort. “You go with Angela now please, okay?”
“No!” She clung tighter, but was no match for the arms that pried her loose. Angela gathered her up in her own arms before she could come to any harm.
The first trooper flaunted a pair of handcuffs. With a knee in John’s back, he drew up John’s arms and cuffed him.
“Clear,” he declared.
A pair of troopers dragged John to his feet and marched him to the door. Maddie cried out and would have run after him, but Angela held her tight.
Pastor Greg knelt down besides Angela. He put his arms around them both. “I’m sure he’ll be okay,” he said. Angela hoped Maddie couldn’t hear the doubt in his words.
He nodded to the line-up at the doors parting to make way for John and his escorts, “He might not actually be a textbook Christian, but whether he likes it or not, looks like he’ll be counted as one of us now.”
Angela imagined how John’s eyes would widen with horror at being considered a Christian. If it made things difficult with his boss, then so be it, she’d count it as God’s will.
“Welcome to our world,” Pastor Greg said grimly to John’s back.
Chapter 45
John sat waiting.
Alone in the back of a secure van, he tried to massage his bruised forearms, but the handcuffs wouldn’t let him do it properly. Red raised welts were forming and he didn’t want to think about the pain behind his knees.
It had been over an hour, he guessed, but he didn’t have his phone, and even
if he did, he couldn’t use it with handcuffs on. He tried to think of something else to get his mind off his discomfort.
He had given his name, had his details checked and recorded before being frog-marched out of the gymnasium. The hush that had been imposed on the crowd and the way his voice had sounded so loud as it echoed around the gym, told him all eyes had been on him as he was being interviewed.
He remembered hearing Maddie crying. He wanted so badly to hug her and let her know everything was going to be okay, but he knew that would be a lie. He hoped she would be okay with Angela. They would have all been watching as he had then been escorted out and thrown into the back of a van.
As he wasn’t the only trouble-maker, he was not surprised to see Pastor Jonas also in the van.
After the doors were locked behind them, John introduced himself.
“You with Pastor Greg’s flock then?”
John just nodded.
It was only then that the significance of his actions began to sink in. His name had now been officially listed as one of the religious. He had to wonder how it would affect his life.
“Well, I figure it’ll only be gettin’ worse from now on.” The Pastor had hung his head and John thought the man had been weeping, but then he had lifted his head to the ceiling and shouted, “Thank you Lord!”
John thought for a moment that the old Pastor was losing it, but then he repeated himself in a quieter, more sincere voice, “Thank you, dear Lord.”
John had said nothing, but his face must have given away his confusion.
“We must rejoice,” the Pastor said. “If we are being persecuted, then we know we are not of this world.”
None of it made any sense to John.
“We are of the Kingdom,” the Pastor continued, “and ours is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Angela might be impressed, but she knew his heart and that he wasn’t really one of them. His company might view things differently though. Would it be something he would come to regret?
As he waited, he went over the events at the gymnasium-church again. He still couldn’t see that he could have done anything differently.
After Pastor Greg had called, inviting him along to the Combined Faiths meeting, he had taken it as a sign that Angela still wanted to see him. A bit hopeful or naïve, he now realised, especially after seeing her reaction. Still, it was better than Zeke’s reaction. John chuckled to himself, as he recalled how it almost looked like Zeke had been worked up enough to have a swipe.
‘And just how important or dangerous does that guy think he is?’ John thought. ‘He looked as guilty as hell and scared witless when the security showed up…’ That train of thought meandered away as he started to wonder about how he might get to see Angela again.
First, he’d have to pick up Maddie. It hurt him almost as much as the baton welts on his forearms to think how upset she was, but at least he might get to see Angela again.
He figured he’d also have to get a hold of the chubby nerd friend of Jarred’s, what was his name again? He needed to find out from him…, Blake, that’s it. Need to find out where he could get some of the right pills for Angela’s father.
It was pretty desperate, he had to admit, but he had promised her mother the pills and short of stalking Angela, he didn’t have any other ways of getting to see her again.
Maybe when the envoy came to town, if she went to it, he might get to see her, albeit from afar and while on duty… And she would be with that Zeke creep… unless…
All that talk about doing something, and he was there at the East L.A. church closure, and the MacArthur Park rally, and now today, the way he reacted when these goons showed up… surely he wouldn’t be planning something to do with the envoy’s visit? But what could he do? He’s just a loud-mouthed try-hard, rich kid…
The door clanked and opened. The woman in charge, flanked by a pair of troopers, greeted him. She took a seat opposite him in the van while her grunts waited outside.
“John Hunter,” the woman in charge read from a faxed copy of his personnel file, “of BlackSky.”
“Did you want my employee number?” John wondered how she had found that out and who she’d been talking to.
“Jane Paprowski,” she flashed her id at him before scribbling something on a clipboard. She produced a key and with an officious smile unlocked John’s handcuffs. Her offsiders watched warily from outside, as John rubbed his wrists. Behind the riot gear, he couldn’t be sure if the guy who had caused his pain was one of the troopers staring at him, but they sure were nervous enough.
“You’re free to go,” Ms Paprowski handed John his belongings, his car keys and wallet and showed him the open door.
“Really?” As John put his wallet in his pocket, he realised that was how she knew where he worked. “Just like that? No charges?”
“Not today,” her smile broadened as she flicked a glance at one of the troopers. “No one was seriously hurt.”
“I see.” John gave the knife-boy, Crocodile Dundee wannabe trooper a long stare, but had to wince and groan as he tried to stand.
“I’m sure you’ll understand how busy we’ve all been lately…” She stood and lead John to the van door.
“Yeah, sure…” John massaged the cramps behind his knees.
“And I’m sure they’re treating you well at BlackSky,” Ms Paprowski continued with a glance at the door, “but if you ever feel the need for a change of scenery…”
John stopped hobbling towards the door and gave her a questioning look.
“We could always find a place for someone with your skills set.”
“Ah, okay, thanks.” John studied her face, but could see no ulterior motives behind her professional smile.
“Just so long as you are on our side,” she added.
“Huh?”
“I don’t know what you were doing at this churchy thing today,” she waved in the direction of the gym, “and your details have been noted and will be passed onto the authorities, but you can’t be serving two masters.”
Still sitting inside the van, Pastor Jonas lifted his head, “Now that’s Biblical,” he said. “Luke 16:13”
“And Matthew 6:24” Ms Paprowski added.
“Hmmm, you know your Bible, are you of faith?” Pastor Jonas asked.
“Was,” she squared her shoulders, “but I saw the light.”
“I’m sorry.” Pastor Jonas slumped and lowered his head. “For you,” he added as he clasped his hands together.
“Hey, don’t bother yourself praying for me,” she said. “I haven’t been struck by lightning or turned into a pillar of salt or anything so far…”
The pastor leapt to his feet. “Don’t you ever…” he shouted.
John quickly put his bulk in front of the Pastor, who strained against him as he bellowed in a more measured voice, “Do not tempt the Lord, child!”
He sat himself back down again, muttering mostly to himself, but loud enough for all to hear, “ever, for the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing. Woe be onto you…”
The security chief shook her head partly in pity, but also disgust.
She stepped out of the van and beckoned John to follow. The Pastor’s dire rumblings died in John’s ears as the doors to the van closed behind him.
Ms Paprowski extended her hand, as a ‘no hard feelings’ gesture. As John shook it, knife boy grumbled. Working with people like him, John realised, it was no wonder she was actively recruiting.
“The Bible has a lot of accumulated wisdoms,” she said, “as do the other great religious texts. It will be a shame to lose them all completely…”
John just nodded and rubbed his forearms.
“But what I was saying about having two masters still applies. You work for BlackSky, but go to church?” She tilted her head as if trying to reconcile the two. “You can’t be running with the dogs and sleeping with the foxes.”
“I know,” John wondered how long it would be before he would be forced to choose. Stay i
n L.A. with his job and his family or give it all up for the girl who doesn’t want him?
“And since you haven’t deafened us with your devotion to your Lord, I assume you are of two minds,” she said as if reading his mind. “Well, I can tell you now, - cause you will be hearing about it soon enough,- you’ll have to be making up your mind real soon.”
“How so?” John asked, wondering which of the company e-mails he should have been reading.
“Registrations will be starting soon.”
“Registrations?”
“Yep,” she nodded, “all those who want to be part of the Greater Galactic Society, the New World Order if you like, will be have to be registered with the new U.N. government.”
John blinked. His mind reeled with the implications.
“Those not registered will be sent to a non-unified area.”
“Rounded up and deported, you mean?”
“I’m sure it will all be very civilised, but you can see it’ll be keeping us busy.”
“I’ll bet.” John’s eyes narrowed at the wannabe Croc Hunter.
She ignored the animosity and fished a business card from her sleeve pocket. “Once you’ve registered with the new U.N. and have your new credentials…” she handed her card to John, “feel free to give us a call.”
She didn’t wait for a reply, instead motioning for her troopers to follow her. She turned and left John pondering his future.
Chapter 46
There was no denying it,’ thought Vice-Admiral Schwartz, ‘Lieutenant Gray’s rash had spread.’
Starting from an angry raised welt, the size of a thumbnail, it had now covered most of the back of her hand, extending to the two valleys between three of her fingers. It hadn’t spread particularly quickly, but it had been relentless. Unaffected by every antibiotic used, it had progressed steadily and unabated.
“Is it anywhere else Fiona?” the weary Medical Officer asked. In her thirties, without sleep and with the workload she and her colleagues were facing, she looked fully a decade older. Like almost all the medical staff, she had the habit of dropping rank and using first names, partly he presumed to establish rapport with their patients, but it also served to subtly remind everyone that they were all equally flesh and blood.