by Jonas Saul
Hank Frommer had died in the mall. She’d seen it with her own eyes. Rod Howley was dead. Was there anyone left in the Sophia Project to come after her? Could that chapter in her life finally be over?
A beat-up Mazda pulled into a spot six feet away. The driver watched her too long. She wiped her face and nose, got off the bench and walked the other way.
Hank hadn’t given her any money. She still wore the clothes from a week ago when she went to dinner with Drake. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and the adrenaline had weakened her.
She had to call Dolan. She needed food, otherwise she thought she would collapse. And she needed a coffee, hardcore.
She walked back to Yonge Street among the hundreds of people. Her shirt hadn’t been laundered in over a week. Sliding on the mall floor had left streaks of dirt. She shook out her hair, layered it over the side of her face and sat down against the wall of the Scotia Bank at Yonge and Wellesley.
After a moment, she rested her hand on her knee, palm up, head down, and waited. Her hand shook uncontrollably. It added to the overall effect of begging.
It didn’t take long. A man in a suit walked by and dropped a dollar coin into her hand. Then a young couple placed two quarters there. When they were out of sight, she shoved all the money in her pocket except for a quarter, which she set on the cement in front of her. Then she waited for more.
In twenty minutes of resting on the pavement in front of the bank, Sarah accrued seven dollars. She collected the coins, slipped them into her pocket and walked across the street to the Starbucks where she bought a tall dark roast and a banana bread. Then she located a pay phone by the parking lot where she had rested earlier.
She downed the banana bread in three bites before she dialed Dolan’s number from memory.
After accepting the charges, Dolan’s familiar voice said, “Hello?”
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” Sarah said.
“Who is this … wait, Sarah?”
He sounded incredulous.
“The one and only,” she said.
“You’re alive!”
She pulled the phone away from her ear. “As far as I know. Hey, you’re supposed to be psychic. How come you didn’t know?”
“A million questions are running through my head,” he said, ignoring her question. “What happened? You died in a car accident. I was at your funeral. It was horrible. We thought we had lost you.”
“Let me guess, closed casket, right?”
“Yeah.”
She kept an eye on the other side of the street. The last thing she needed was for more white-faced assassins to come up behind her.
“It was all a ruse,” she said. “The American government, my own people, snatched me in Toronto a week ago. They flew me up to some compound in North Bay. I got out today.”
“Sarah, that doesn’t add up. Why would they bury you and then just let you go a week later?”
“They didn’t plan on letting me out.”
“Oh …”
“It’s a long story. I need help. I have no ID, no money and nowhere to go.” She sipped her coffee. It tasted heavenly after a week with only water. “Is Drake still in Toronto? Parkman? I need someone to bring me in, help me get home. I think it’s better if I see my parents and tell them face-to-face what happened instead of telling them over the phone.”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Look, I’ll make some calls.” He paused. “I heard you sip something. You got a drink without money?”
“I panhandled for the money.”
He didn’t say anything for another moment.
“Sarah, Sarah, Sarah …”
“What?” She could see him shaking his head.
“Nothing. Are you in danger right now?” Dolan asked.
She scanned the street in both directions.
“Probably, but I’m not sure.”
“Okay, look, I’ll call and book a room for you in a hotel. Put dinner and other expenses you need on the room. My card will cover it. In the meantime, I’ll get Drake or Parkman or someone familiar to come meet you.”
“Sounds good.”
She told him where she was, and after searching the Internet, Dolan suggested she stay at the Courtyard by Marriott just south on Yonge. By the time she walked there, he would have the room booked.
“Oh, and Dolan, book it in your name for two people. Tell them that your daughter is checking in before you arrive. Remember, I have no ID on me.”
“Okay, and call me back when you’re in the room, safe.”
“Done.” Sarah hung up.
She walked away from the pay phone and sipped hard on her coffee, already feeling more alive.
Things would work out. The government wouldn’t be after her anymore. She could rest easy. Hank and Rod were dead and with the world thinking she was also dead, there would be no more adversaries. She could slip back into her old life and start helping people again … anonymously.
Something Hank said earlier entered her mind. He had called her a ‘victim.’ Was she? Would it always be about her trying to stay alive? Or could she put together something of a normal life?
She filled her mouth with coffee, swished it around slowly and let it warm her insides on the way down.
Everything would work out. She would leave Toronto, go home and start over.
But first she had to find out who those guys with the white faces were. That kind of slaughter couldn’t go unanswered.
And Vivian had some explaining to do.
Chapter 8
Simon Peter entered the apartment first. He removed the eviction notice on the door. They were behind in the rent, but where they were going, it wouldn’t matter. There were no credit checks in heaven.
After removing his jacket, he opened the red wine to give it time to breathe before his apostles joined him for communion.
He performed the meticulous task of setting the bread and wine glasses out so when they all showed up, he would be ready for their meeting.
He undressed, slipped into a brown robe and sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room to pray. After ten minutes, he was so wrapped up in prayer, he didn’t notice Philip and Andrew enter, followed by Thomas and, a few minutes later, James.
Movement in the kitchen disturbed him. He summed up his final words and asked God to see him through his mission of sending His children home. Then he asked for his brother Matthew to be more forthcoming, offer more information during their sessions and allow them to continue their mission unimpeded.
“In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Simon opened his eyes. The apostles stepped into the living room and sat in a circle around him. James held a silver tray with the wine already poured into tiny shot glasses, and the bread. As Simon joined the circle, James handed the bread and wine to each of the men. Once everyone was in position and held their bread and wine, Simon was ready.
He held up the bread. “This is the body of Jesus that was broken for you. Take this bread in remembrance of him.” Everyone touched the bread and closed their eyes as Simon had instructed them. They chewed it and swallowed.
He could see the strained look on all their faces. He would have to answer for the death of two of their own soon to maintain control and order.
He held up his wine. “This is the blood of Jesus that was spilled for your sins. Take this wine and drink it in remembrance of him. Let the wine absolve you of sin and allow you free entry into the Kingdom of God.”
His apostles tilted their heads back, closed their eyes again and drank the wine. Their glasses empty, James collected the refuse and discarded it in the kitchen before returning to the circle.
They had no use for furniture. Simon ordered everyone to sleep on blankets as Jesus once did. The apartment was rented as a meeting place. Once the lease was signed, they hadn’t paid any rent after the first month. They were due to be evicted within a few weeks, but Simon didn’t care. Their mission for God would be over by then.
He examined
their eyes, moving along the circle, one by one. It was good to see they had all removed their hairpieces and contact lenses as he’d instructed. They couldn’t allow the forces of evil to spot them near this apartment after being seen at the mall.
Philip appeared content, eager to listen to more of Simon’s words. Andrew seemed calm, as well as Thomas. After what they had just been through at the Allandale Centre, Simon was elated to see they weren’t allowing it to affect them in a negative way. After all, they worked on divine tasks. No human judgment could render that less powerful. Simon had been quite clear in the weeks leading up to today’s outing.
It was James who appeared the most out of sorts. Discontent tensed the lines of his face. Simon allowed James the time to work through his emotions as they discussed what had happened and what they were going to do to right the wrongs that had been brought upon them.
“My fellow men,” Simon started, “we are gathered here today minus two. Our beloved brother, John, has departed for the great hereafter. We mustn’t be selfish and mourn his loss. We need to rejoice in the knowledge that he’s home, in a better place. He has been taken in the Rapture.” Simon scanned their faces slowly as he talked. “We have lost Brother Michael, too. We are further blessed for having worked side-by-side with such loving, caring men and I thank the Lord for having known them. Please pray for their wonderful reception in the Kingdom.”
Simon lowered his head and whispered a pray for John and Michael. Soft whispers emanated from his fellow brothers. A chorus of amens filled the room as they finished.
“Simon?” Philip asked. “Permission to speak.”
“All of you,” Simon said, his hands raised, “have permission to speak. Let it out. Tell all. What’s on your minds?”
Philip cleared his throat. “Have you heard from your brother Matthew?”
Simon shook his head. “Not yet. But rest assured, Brother Philip, I will.”
“Can you tell us went wrong?” Andrew asked.
“Circumstance.” Simon got to his feet. He needed to show them confidence and power. He needed to instill the right words to keep them rooted in faith and he couldn’t do that sitting cross-legged in their circle. “Circumstance halted our mission.”
“Circumstance?” James asked, his voice wavering.
“Yes, Brother James. It is unfortunate that Sarah fought back. We didn’t expect that much resistance.” He was careful not to say he didn’t expect it, showing weakness in solidarity. Including them in the expectation made them part of the collapse of the mission. “However, we did expect Sarah to run. We’ve all read about Ms. Sarah Roberts’ good deeds.” He talked with his hands, moving them with his words, his Italian blood showing through. “We all know that she is truly one of the good ones. That is why she needs to be taken home to be with our Lord.”
“What about all those cops?” James asked. He looked scared now. His eyes darted between his brothers and then back to Simon. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “They have families, wives, children. Is it right … what we did?”
Simon glanced around the circle before answering. He needed to see if any of the others were as weak as James. He knew what had to be done. It was time for James to move on. Not only could this kind of weakness get James Raptured in the process of fulfilling his destiny, he could get others Raptured early, jeopardizing their mission. James would need to be taken out on the next mission.
“Brother James, let me ask you a question.”
James nodded, not willing to talk back to Simon Peter.
“Who are the bad people in society? Who are the ones staying behind for the thousand year war and the end of the earth by fire?”
“People in jails, people hurting others for pleasure.”
“That’s right, Brother James,” Simon said, keeping as calm as the virgin in her shroud, as calm as a summer sea. His posture, facial expressions and mannerisms meant everything to his followers. After all the preaching, all the parables he offered, none of them really, truly believed in his mission until he showed them, on paper, what Matthew had said. That brought them on board. Simon’s job was to keep them rapt in his inner circle, fighting against the winds of evil.
“Who are the good? Who need to be Raptured and taken home?”
“God is almighty, all-seeing,” James said, reciting Simon’s teachings. “He is taking home everyone He desires, but there are a few that need our help. He has enlisted us to do his bidding. We’re on a mission—”
“That’s correct, Brother James, but who can go home?” Simon interjected, trying to get James to mellow out. “Who is authorized to be Raptured by our hands?”
“Good people. Ones that the Lord needs.”
“Correct again,” Simon said, his arms outstretched. “Wouldn’t you agree that police officers, who protect our women and children, are good people, deserving of Rapture?”
James scanned the room for support and, finding none, looked back up at Simon. “Yes, Brother Simon. I do.”
“In the future, examine your questions prior to asking them. Anyone else want to talk, let it out, discuss what happened? Discussion is important. Thinking, tantamount.”
No one responded.
“Good,” Simon said. “I’m going into the other room to call Matthew. We need direction here. Sarah is still our primary goal and Matthew will be able to tell us what to do. When I get a hold of my brother, I will rejoin the circle and tell you what I’ve discovered. We will reconvene to make things right. Are we all agreed?”
As Simon moved around the room, each man raised both hands heavenward, palms open and facing the ceiling, allowing God’s energy to course down their arms and into their soul, their hearts.
“Good, now pray, talk to God and then rest. No one leaves. We meet when I come out of the bedroom.”
In the bedroom, they had an altar set up for those that had passed over. Simon opened a bottle of salve and applied the white cream to the palms of his hands and soles of his feet. The cracking had become something of a pain recently. He would need to be diligent over the next few days with his skin and fingernails to keep them from getting infected. He had lived with ectodermal dysplasia for twenty-four years and had gone for countless doctors’ visits, dental surgeries for his teeth and tests. Always more tests.
Before leaving today, he had removed the dentures that covered the two pointed teeth on the bottom of his mouth. There was no need to be accepted by society, no need to appease the sensitive nature of the common people. God had created him and his brother in his image, and Simon needed to be proud of how he looked. He wouldn’t chastise or ridicule himself anymore—he would leave that to the ignorant and less educated.
He sat on a cushion in front of the altar, crossed his legs, placed his upturned hands on his knees, and began to pray.
He would wait for Matthew to call.
The Rapture was upon them and nothing could stop the Rapturites from sending Sarah Roberts home. She would die by Simon’s hand. When Simon changed his name, he also took on the role of bringing people to Jesus. He had every intention to deliver Sarah to God. Even if he died doing it.
There could be no greater honor.
Chapter 9
Sarah entered the hotel Dolan had arranged. At the desk, they gave her no trouble. Dolan had described her and said his daughter had lost her purse. He would join her later, but charge what she needed on his card. The young attendant at the counter had been overly nice, offering her candies from a large bowl. He had given her two keycards for the electronic door lock and explained about the restaurant, the pool and checkout times. All she wanted was a long hot bath and room service.
After feigning sleepiness, Sarah got away from him without being too rude. She checked in with the name Sarah Ryan, Dolan’s last name. Using his name made her feel special after all they’d been through together.
She put out the Do Not Disturb flap and secured the night lock. Dolan, or anyone else, wouldn’t be joining her this evening.
She
grabbed the restaurant menu, ordered room service to be delivered in one hour sharp then drew a hot bath. She disrobed, hopped in the steaming water and finally relaxed. She was safe. Only Dolan knew where she was. She could stay the night and decide what to do in the morning. If Parkman was already in the States, maybe she would have to bite the bullet and call her parents. After reassuring them she was alive and well, her father could drive up and fetch her. Until then, she could stay locked up in this hotel.
She sunk lower in the tub, letting the filth of the past week locked in a cell ooze off her. She needed new clothes. Maybe the hotel had a gift shop where she could at least buy a hat and a toothbrush. She was weary, tired of being on the run. It was time to get her life back.