by Rob Mclean
“Yeah, if they don’t find him soon, then he’s long gone,” Grace nodded. “But where can he go?”
“Either his parents, some friend or church member…”
“Or his girlfriend,” Grace added.
“His fiancé, you mean.”
“Fiancé? Hang on, wasn’t this the girl you took home from the nightclub?”
“Yup.”
“But…”
“It turns out she was just hanging out with me to say ‘thank-you’ for looking after her that night…”
“Oh, okay…”
“And to make her boyfriend, at the time, more, umm, attentive,” John said without taking his eyes from the screen.
“Looks to me like she’s screwed you over real good,” Grace turned to give him a sympathetic look. “Women can be real bitches like that sometimes.”
“Yeah, thanks.” John knew Grace was trying to help, but wondered if it was all as pre-meditated as it sounded. He didn’t doubt that was the case with her mother, but not Angela. He still hoped there had been something more between them, something that under different circumstances could have worked. Something that could have been good, something special.
“Damn,” he stood and kicked the sofa hard, sending it toppling over.
He took a deep breath and uncurled his fists.
“Sorry,” he said to Grace.
“It’s okay, Johnny,” she reached out to touch his arm. “It hurts” she said, “but it’ll be okay.”
John nodded. “Yep,” was all he managed to say.
“But, if our perp doesn’t show and when we’re finished here,” Grace said, punching playfully him on the same arm, “we are so gonna pay her a visit.”
“A visit?”
“Sure,” said Grace turning back to the screen, “where else is our friend going to go?”
John had to admit it would be a good bet, besides it would be a great excuse to see Angela again, even if it was only on official business.
“Whoa, check this out,” Grace leaned back, partly to let John get a better look at the screen, but also, it seemed to John, to distance herself from the screen and to try to understand what she saw seeing.
She had pulled up Zeke’s browser history. Amongst many Christian sites, there were several visits to sex-doll sites.
They retraced Zeke’s on-line journeys through the various models and variations on offer. Just over a fortnight ago, he had ordered a customised sex-doll from a manufacturer in Los Angeles. The delivery address was his current address. John was certain any of his squad wouldn’t have missed something like that in the apartment.
They both stared at the face on the screen. The lifeless blue eyes staring without judgement, the artificial blonde hair on silicone smooth skin - it looked like Angela’s wax-works double.
“Wow,” was all John could say as he stood and walked away, his head swirling with emotions.
“Yep, that’s pretty sad,” said Grace.
“Sad?” Of all the thoughts he had, pity wasn’t foremost.
“Yeah, it’s like if he can’t have the real thing…” Grace said, giving John a look that conveyed her scorn.
John just frowned in return. ‘Sure would be less trouble than the real thing,’ John thought.
“Almost makes you feel sorry for him,” Grace shook her head.
“You’re kidding, right?” Instead of arguing with her, he asked, “Wonder how the real thing would do if she met her stand in?” John didn’t need to ask – he had a pretty good idea.
“But it does show what he thinks is important in a woman,” Grace said as she closed the browser, making no effort to hide her disgust.
Chapter 55
Vice-Admiral Karl Schwartz had been watching the newsfeeds in his private quarters, when he was interrupted by a knock on his door.
In the past, such an interruption would have been from his P.A. and intimate confidant, Lieutenant Gray. Opening his cabin door to be greeted by someone else only served to underscore his disappointment. He had to remind himself that she was fighting an infection that had already claimed most of her right hand. Only her thumb and forefinger were all that remained of that hand.
“Sorry to disturb you, Sir,” the young ensign said. He couldn’t remember the lad’s name, something he usually prided himself on, but excused himself on account of the unusual circumstances of late.
“Captain Weslowski sent this,” he said, handing over a sealed inter-office envelope.
“Thank-you son,” he said dismissing the ensign as he opened the envelope.
Inside was a printed copy of orders sent from home. As the Admiral was still not officially back from his detention in Bahrain, Captain Weslowski was still acting in charge.
The orders had been printed, old-school style - so there was no electronic trail to the Admiral - were from Washington, demanding they re-deploy his forces to aid in securing the Suez Canal.
He had not acknowledged any of the previous directives and he knew that his time of equivocation was drawing to a rapid close. Sooner, rather than later, he would have to commit his forces one way or another. Either with his former countrymen, and the N.A.T.O forces who were now flying the New U.N. flag or with the motley collection of third world and Middle-Eastern forces ranged against them.
While they had been helping in the humanitarian efforts in Cairo, their presence had been tolerated by the neighbouring religious nations. If they were to stop that to focus their efforts on seizing the canal, that would soon change.
If he were true to his beliefs, and throw his lot in with the religious nations, he would lose his resupply. Food and fuel would be available from the locals, but there would be no resupply of his high-tech munitions, with the possible exception of whatever the Saudis had acquired when they had overrun the Bahrain base. But, that too would be limited.
Basically he knew that to follow his beliefs would eventually be suicidal. He had no long-term ability to carry the fight against well supplied adversaries with technology as good as his own.
Furthermore, without the information and intel from command, he would be fighting blind. Although the Israeli military were world class, they too would be without the satellite coverage needed to monitor the battlefields. In today’s theatre of war, whoever held the high ground had the advantage. Satellites gave the worldly forces that high-ground advantage, but higher still was the Alien Antichrist’s position.
The more he thought about it, any action against the worldly forces would be a short, fiery, but ultimately futile path to martyrdom. The end result would be the same, but with the loss of thousands of his good people.
Rumours of an army, numbering in the tens of millions, coming from the eastern lands of India, Pakistan and Iran were just that, hearsay and wild rumours. To suggest that these nations, who had previously been hostile to each other, could suddenly work together, and then co-ordinate such a monumental logistical challenge, was in his opinion, fanciful at best and did nothing to convince him of the futility of any resistance.
All his military instincts told him that the fight would be long and bloody, with massive losses, but ultimately the conflict would be won by the worldly. Not only did they have the technological superiority, but it had all been foretold. The AntiChrist and his forces would prevail. The believers and followers of Jesus would be persecuted until the return of Christ, which was all well and good, but didn’t help him much now.
From a Christian perspective he knew he should fight, however futile it may be, for the things he believed in. He wasn’t, he admitted with no small amount of guilt, quite ready to die as yet. He didn’t like to call it cowardly, but he still held out a hope that his prayers would be answered and a cure would be found for Lieutenant Gray.
Thoughts of a future without her were dismal. Ever since she had breathed life and vitality into his otherwise stale, staid and loveless existence, she had captured almost all of his waking thoughts. Now the damned mutated alien bug threatened to take her a
way. If only…
The Admiral rose and walked to the command centre. On the way his people greeted him warmly with salutes and smiles. Would they treat him the same after his decisions were enacted?
The Admiral put aside these thoughts as he entered the bridge. Captain Weslowski and the rest of the staff stood to attention. Returning their salutes, he bade them to be at ease.
“Sir?” Weslowski’s voice sounded strained. The current state of indecision was wearying for him too. “You’ve read the orders from stateside?”
“Yes, I have. As you know, they want us to commit to operations to seize and hold the Suez.”
“They’re assuming we’re flying the new U.N. flag.”
“Yes, and our actions will show them the truth.”
“And those actions, Sir?”
The Admiral paused. He knew what he was about to do would have profound repercussions. He only hoped it would be judged to be the best course of action. Not by the brass in Washington, or by historians, but when he would be kneeling before his God in Heaven.
“I want the infirmaries emptied. Send all those affected by this alien organism to our ‘so-called’ New World Order allies.”
“Sir?”
“That’s the Sixth Fleet in the Med, our former N.A.T.O allies,” he counted on his fingers, “and the Russian fleet as well. Tell them we’re at full capacity.”
“Sir.”
“I see no reason why we can’t use the alien’s bio-weaponry to our advantage.
Chapter 56
Angela lay on her bed, exploring the new phone Zeke had given her. She couldn’t believe she had laboured for so long with an old-school dumb phone.
Her mother had been the one who had graciously allowed her a cell phone for her sixteenth birthday. It had felt so special at the time, being able to chat with her friends at any time, but she soon found out its limitations. She couldn’t share photos or access the internet.
“For your own protection,” her parents had said. “There’s only filth and depravity out there on the internet.” But without access, she had to take their word for it.
“Maybe when you’re older,” they had said. And now she felt very much more grown-up. However, she had to admit they were right about the disgusting things that could be found. She reminded herself that like most tools, any benefits had to be weighed against the dangers of using them.
It had been very useful in finding somewhere for them to move to, now that most of California had voted to align themselves with the New World Order. She had been pleasantly surprised when they asked for her opinion on such a big decision and took it to be another sign that they now saw her as being more grown-up. Or just that they were beginning to realise they could no longer cope by themselves with the massive changes going on around them.
With this in mind and after much discussion, they had decided on a small community in west Texas. Many of the rust belt towns had enjoyed something of a resurgence lately. Many out of staters looking to move there after the referendum had found they couldn’t afford to buy in the bigger centres like Dallas or El Paso. Religious refugees were moving from all over the country and there weren’t as many leaving, so the prices were rising.
They had listed their home for sale with a couple of real estate agents, but had been cautioned against hoping for a quick sale. They figured they would have to rent until their home sold. Angela had filled in several rental applications, but had not had any success as yet.
She knew she should be sorting through her things, getting ready for the move, but it was a difficult and painful job.
Zeke had said he wasn’t ready to move yet. His crazy talk about killing the envoy worried her, but she doubted he would actually do anything. His zeal was admirable, if not a little scary – he had always been a dedicated Christian - but she felt it was misguided and all wrong. Jesus would never expect his followers to kill anyone in His name. If that was God’s will, then it would happen. Why couldn’t Zeke understand that?
“The Lord helps those who help themselves,” Zeke would say, “it’s through his people, like me, who aren’t just going to sit back and wait for Him to do everything. That’s how He works in this world.”
She could see Zeke’s logic, but to her it sounded lacking in faith and a more than little grandiose and delusional. On the other hand, she had prayed over it and so, worrying about it anymore would be showing her own lack of faith. She was fairly confident everything would work out eventually, as she had prayed, but the bits before then were challenging.
At that moment, the phone buzzed and shook. A photo of Christie appeared with her number under it.
“Hey,” Christie said, “You okay, girl?”
“I’m good, and you?” Angela laid herself back on her bed.
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Chelsea got arrested.”
“Arrested?” Angela sat up. “What did she do?”
“Nothing,” Christie said, “just for being a Christian.”
“Oh, my… godfather.” Angela drew back her lace curtains, expecting to see police cars outside, but there was nothing. “What about Zeke?”
“They didn’t get him. He was out taking an early morning run.”
“How do you know?”
“Chelsea was allowed a call. She rang her parents, who asked everyone if they knew where Zeke was.”
“Everyone but me.”
“No, they asked me to ask you,” Christy said. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and them, that’s your business, but…”
“I don’t think I’m their favourite future daughter-in-law at the moment.”
“Sorry…”
“So where’s he now?”
“No-one knows. I thought you might have heard something.” Christie sounded genuinely worried.
“What, because I’m his fiancé or something?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, no. Nothing.”
“And nobody’s heard from Pastor Greg either. Not since they arrested him and the other pastors at the multi-denominational worship the other Sunday.”
“Zeke said he had heard from the ‘authorities’ that Pastor Greg had been locked up in some sort of prison here in L.A.” Angela said, “He says that without a leader, we’d all just forget about going to Church and fall in line with the New World Order.”
“I heard he’d been deported to Texas and that he’d be in contact as soon as he was released there.”
“Yeah, I heard that too. That’s why we’re moving there just as soon as we can.”
“So, you are going? I had heard that too.”
“Mom’s keen to go now that things are getting worse. Dad doesn’t care, just as long as we’re safe.”
“But, what about Zeke?”
“What about him? He knows we’re moving. If he doesn’t come too, his loss.”
“Wow, listen to you, girl.”
Angela felt a flush of pride. It felt good to have made such an empowering decision.
“What about you?” Angela asked. “And Aaron? What are you guys going to do?”
“My parents say it’s better to stay here.”
“Really?” Angela tried to hide her disappointment, but she felt as though she was becoming increasingly alone in her faith.
“Yeah, they say it’s too much trouble to move, all their friends are here and that God is with us no matter where we are.”
“Sure, but what about church?”
“We can still read the Bible at home…”
“They’ll make it illegal, you know.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“And what about going to church?”
“You don’t really need to go to church, you know…”
“It’s for fellowship,” Angela protested, “for building relationships and supporting each other in faith.”
“Yeah, but we can do all that on-line.”
Angela thought about that
for a moment. “No, they could monitor everything we did, and besides, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be right,” she said, but couldn’t quite say why, it just didn’t feel right.
“Maybe not, but without moving to where it’s legal, then it’s all we got.” Christie sounded apologetic and defeated.
It saddened Angela because she knew that Christie was only trying to justify things for herself.
“Aaron doesn’t want to move, does he?”
“No, he says he’ll do whatever I want. He says he doesn’t care where we live, as long as I’m with him.”
“Wow,” was all Angela could say. She tried to fight down a stab of envy, but it didn’t help that Zeke was so set on doing what he wanted.
“Isn’t that sweet?”
“Yeah, so it’s your parents then?”
“Of course it’s my family. Not just my parents, but cousins, uncles and aunts and all their friends, the whole Viet community, we’d all have to move.”
“And they aren’t Christian?”
“Catholics mostly, but not serious. Mostly a social get together and going out of habit. They say business is going to be better here.”
Angela couldn’t argue with that. If the envoy delivered only half of what he was promising, then things would be so much better. But that was the plan, wasn’t it; to promise everything and take everyone away from God.
“You actually think the envoy is for real, don’t you?” Angela asked.
“Well, what if he is…”
“If he is some nice alien, he’s using a human body and persecuting anyone who believes in God.”
“Not God,” Christy said, “just religions.”
“Same thing…”
“No, he says that our religions are man-made. To them they must just look silly.”
“Silly? Do you think Jesus is ‘silly’?”
“No!” Christy said, then added. “I don’t know. It’s all confusing.”
“That’s how he wants it to be. If the envoy isn’t an alien and is really the AntiChrist, isn’t that exactly what he wants you to think. Can’t you see that?”
There was a pause. Angela wondered if she had said too much, but she felt convicted of her righteousness, even if she sounded a lot like her mother.