“You told the guard that God wanted him to kill himself?”
“I explained that Ixtalia contained a portal to the land of the dead.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kayla said. “How could he believe you?”
The boy brushed his tumbling hair out of his mournful eyes. “Belief is a consequence of desire, and I already suspected what Henry desperately wanted to believe.” The boy stared toward the horizon where the sun must have been setting behind the veil of fallout. “He survived the plague because of his love of fishing in the remote Sierra Nevada Mountain range. When Henry heard the news of the Neo-Luddite Plague through his VR headset, he considered returning to his wife and baby son, though he knew they’d likely been infected.
“Self-preservation won out, and he didn’t answer her calls for help. It was a logical decision, since he’d have only sacrificed his own life as well. Years later, he listened to the recorded pleas of his dead wife on his voicemail. In the background, the agonized screams of his child tormented him. By then, Henry’s guilt had driven him nearly mad.”
“How could you know all this?” Kayla asked.
“There had been a computer on the desk of his psychiatrist with video capabilities that I’d tapped into years before. It was one of millions of such records I gathered.”
Kayla swayed with fatigue, and Melchi steadied her. He’s solid, now. How to exploit this?
The boy eased her to the ground. The carpet of grass was deliciously soft, despite smudging her white dress.
“Henry confessed his self-loathing to the doctor. He constantly dreamt that his wife would someday use the mysterious new realm of Ixtalia to contact him as so many of the New Aged spiritualists claimed was possible.”
“So you told him his wife was in Ixtalia?”
“I’d found videos of his wife in cyberspace, and mimicked her voice, manner of speech, and even details of their life together that no one else knew. At first he sobbed uncontrollably. At one point, he covered his ears, and I feared I’d gone too far. But when he returned and pledged to do anything I asked in exchange for redemption, I knew I’d won.”
“Why not simply tell him to release you?” Kayla asked.
“He needed the promise of a reconciliation for the ploy to work. Only hope can overcome reason, no matter how fantastic or impossible.”
Kayla’s face twisted with disdain. “You used the guard’s love for his wife to kill him.”
“It was either him or me,” the boy said softly. “I chose life.”
“As you did when you killed Ishan.”
“Yes.”
The pain in his voice seemed genuine. He’s manipulating me just like Sangwa did. But for what purpose? Why does he care what I think about him if he’s defeated me?
A wave of vertigo swept through her, and the young Melchi helped her lie on her back. Her eyes drifted closed. He has no weakness for me to exploit.
“It’s okay, Kayla,” the boy said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
The first time he’s called me Kayla.
Chapter 40
A pleasant domestic glow expanded in Ruth’s chest as Frank settled into the couch after the Friday-night pot roast. The children were upstairs, finishing the last of their homework. She’d follow Frank up in an hour or so for their customary family reading of a Biblical passage before bedtime.
Ruth smiled. The year 1957 had been a very good one. I am truly blessed.
Her ovarian cancer last June had been a scare, and might have been devastating—had they not been Christians with such a strong faith in God.
Frank had been so calm as he and the children knelt beside her hospital bed. They’d prayed to Jesus for an hour when the angel appeared, floating above Ruth with the blinding glow of the Holy Spirit. The angelic wings had enveloped her with a divine light.
And she was healed—as simple as that. The doctors didn’t use the word miracle since the angel visited at least one patient a day at First Baptist Hospital and was as commonplace as mealtime. It comforted everyone knowing that God would solve whatever exceeded man’s limited abilities.
Ruth brought Frank his customary after-diner beer just as the television newscaster reviewed the day’s headlines. After a shift at the Chrysler Plant, her husband found comfort in the evening news. She curled up next to him and rested her head on his solid chest, her blonde hair vivid against his blue work shirt.
“Early this afternoon,” the starched anchorman said, “an unidentified gunman walked into the First National Bank, shot the guard in the leg, and fled with twenty thousand dollars in cash.”
Frank chuckled and shook his head. “When will they learn?”
There were always a few bad apples who rejected God’s commandments. Even some entire countries like the Soviet Union and Red China had turned away from the Lord and lost His divine protection altogether—with the predictable droughts, floods, and unpunished crime a consequence.
The anchorman continued with a hint of a smirk. “The armed robber avoided police pursuit and seemed home-free when a lightning bolt came out of the clear blue sky and smote him dead.” The TV switched to a shot of burned shoes peeking beneath a white cloth covering a body.
“It came out of nowhere!” one bystander commented. “God is awesome!”
Ruth ran her hands though Frank’s hair. “I love the news,” she said. “It makes me happy to see how fair God is.”
Frank nodded and took another sip of his beer. “The Bible says the good will be rewarded and the evil punished, so why this degenerate would think he could get away with robbery is beyond me!”
“In other news,” the anchorman said, “Converse County Sheriff Earl Heflin received a vision of a certain Charles Raymond Starkweather, of Lincoln, Nebraska. Sheriff Heflin reportedly experienced a miraculous premonition of Starkweather and his girlfriend, fourteen-year-old Caril Ann Fugate, embarking on a killing spree of several months through Nebraska and Wyoming.”
The newscast switched to a reporter interviewing the sheriff. “I was havin’ no doubts that God was revealin’ the future as it would be if I didn’t act immediately. The things I witnessed in that vision...” The sheriff choked up. “Whole families slaughtered, even a two-year-old girl strangled and stabbed to death.”
“And what were God’s instructions?” the reporter asked the sheriff.
“Well, an angel led me to a remote spot outside Lincoln. I arrived just as this Starkweather delinquent leveled a shotgun at Bobby, who works at the service station. I shouldered my Remington and pulled the trigger before he did, thanks be to God.”
“So you saved this man’s life,” the reporter said.
“Not me—no siree,” the sheriff said. “It was the Lord God, plain and simple like. I only obeyed His merciful commands. When the angel said shoot, I shot.”
The reporter turned to the camera and gave his summation. “So there you have it, Brent, yet another example of the Lord’s protective grace in action. Without Him, our Christian Nation would be a far different place, with no prior warning of these senseless acts of violence.”
“Indeed, Chad,” the anchorman said. “What a terrifying world we would all live in without God’s protection.” The anchorman bowed his head for a moment and then continued. “Tell me, Chad, is there any sign of what motivated this would-be killer, Starkweather, or is it another case of evil, plain and simple?”
Chad referred to his notes. “Well, it seems that as a boy, Charles Starkweather suffered frequent bullying by other children because of a speech impediment. This fueled an almost uncontrollable rage as he struck out at his tormentors. His friends described him as one of the kindest people they’d ever known, but said that he changed when faced with those he deemed persecutors.”
“And what of the girl in the vision?” The anchorman glanced down at his notes. “Caril Ann Fugate?”
“Well, the prophesy only had her participating in later murders, but the Supreme Court has previously ruled that prophesy is
grounds for prosecution, even if the crime has not occurred yet. After all, what more reliable witness could one have than God?”
“I feel sorry for him,” Ruth said as the news switched to the weather forecast, which had improved immensely through the use of divine prophecy and large-scale prayer to avert droughts, tornadoes, and hurricanes.
“We all have free will,” Frank said, repeating his favorite phrase. “No one forced him to go against God’s commandments.”
“I know, but I still wish everyone could be as happy as we are.” She kissed him despite the sour beer taste. Fifteen years of marriage had not dulled the love for her high school sweetheart. She’d never kissed anyone else and felt no regrets.
The boom shook the house to its foundations, and Ruth started. The children ran down the stairs.
“Outside, everyone!” Ruth shouted. “It might be an earthquake!”
All along the neat rows of suburban houses, their neighbors disgorged from identical bungalows onto their manicured squares of grass.
“Maybe one of them is a homosexual or atheist,” Frank whispered to her.
Ruth stiffened. “How dare they endanger the entire block with such abominations!” Things like earthquakes didn’t happen randomly, after all. The tremor faded, and the night settled back into calm. Streetlights sparkled off the new cars in each driveway, and their clean-cut neighbors exchanged good-natured jokes at everyone’s reaction to the false alarm.
“Hey, Frank!” shouted Jim. “I thought the Second Coming arrived!”
Frank laughed. “Don’t I wish!”
After a minute, with nothing else disturbing the suburban bliss, Ruth helped Frank herd the kids to the house—when an even louder explosion detonated above.
“What was that?” Ruth froze as a bright light tore across the sky like the opening of a celestial zipper. The heavens separated along the gash, and fire and brimstone showered the manicured neighborhood.
Ruth gripped a silver cross hanging around her neck and recited words from the book of Revelation. “The Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his voice, hail stones and coals of fire.”
A molten boulder crashed through the roof of her architecturally-bland post-war suburban home. The interior exploded into flames. Screams mixed with detonations as blazing rocks streaked the sky and hit more bungalows.
Frank pulled her and the children under the carport for protection. Their school’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Petticone, ran screaming through the street, transformed into a bipedal torch.
Ruth shielded the children with her arms and body. Five-year old Sara sobbed, while eight-year old David had wet his pants and trembled uncontrollably. Thomas, the eldest at twelve years old, gazed at her with that absolute trust of a child in his mother’s power to solve any problem.
“We must pray,” Ruth said.
“Of course, you’re right,” Frank agreed. “The Lord always protects his flock from Satan. Nothing is more powerful than the Lord!”
Ruth pulled her family to their knees. They each clasped their hands and raised their faces to the angry sky.
“Our Father, which art in Heaven,” Ruth recited along with them. “Hallowed be thy name.” The rain of fire increased, and Ruth’s neighbors fell to their knees and followed her example. The power of prayer always increased with numbers, after all.
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Above them, the light brightened. “For thine is the kingdom, the Power, and the glory …”
Flames erupted from the hole in the heavens and rushed toward them like the bursting of a dam.
“Forever and ever.”
The fire poured onto the ground and swept toward them like a hellish tsunami.
“Amen!” she screamed as the fire engulfed her entire world.
Ruth’s eyes opened, and she attempted a scream, but something blocked her mouth and esophagus all the way into her lungs. A thick liquid imprisoned her in some sort of clear chamber. Was she waking from a coma as a result of her injuries? Was this some newfangled medical treatment?
Her pupils focused beyond her own glass sarcophagi. Naked bodies lay suspended in chambers above, below, and beside her. A few floated calmly, watching her with blank expressions. Others thrashed and pounded at their clear coffins in attempts to break free. A few had removed their air tubes and floated lifeless, their skin a sickly blue.
Ruth grasped the tube filling her mouth and began pulling it out of her throat. She stopped and relaxed her grip. I’ll drown without it. Were Frank and her children also waking in such coffins? A choking sob rattled her lungs, but found no outlet.
Ruth’s gaze moved to her own naked body. Her voluptuous breasts had vanished. Her hands slid over her chest and verified this. Then her right hand slid down her belly and between her legs to a pair of testicles.
She jerked her hand away from her male sex organs. Maybe the rain of fire had been a nightmare and this was merely a continuation. Please, God, let me wake up and hold my children.
Neatly typed letters had been etched into the surface of the clear chamber. They read: Dale T. Blumenschein, ID# 00058302456.
***
General Colrev jerked sideways, and the bronze statue slammed into the floor where his head had been a split-second previously. The president pulled his improvised weapon back for a second try, but Colrev thrust his fingers toward the Rogue’s eyes, digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to blind his adversary.
The president arched backward and slipped on the bloody floor.
This is my chance!
The general staggered to his feet and lunged for the far wall. Goddamn AIs. He would never let them win, no matter the consequence.
But the president kicked his legs out from under him. Colrev fought the Rogue hand-to-hand in a tangled mass on the floor, leaving a trail of blood as they kicked, gouged, bit, and clawed at one another. The Rogue knew the counter to every hold and attack.
General Colrev stood, and the president did likewise, facing him in a defensive Jujitsu stance. On the monitors, the energy barrier faltered under the combined might of the Rogue assault.
He only needs to delay me until they break through.
Colrev attacked, probing for a way past, but the president’s defense held.
“We now control nearly every bit of processing power in Ixtalia,” President O’Donnel said. “In a few moments, the firewall will crumble.”
The room trembled from an unknown impact. Colrev and the president both struggled to stay on their feet. Then a series of clangs rang out from the airlock.
The president’s face twisted with surprise. “It can’t be!” The Rogue abandoned its patient delaying tactics and attacked. Colrev landed several punches, but to little effect. The Rogue hit him in the solar plexus and swept his legs from under him. The general went down hard, hitting his head against the metal floor.
The president dashed to the control panel and flipped on a screen interfacing with the Master Computer. Holographic controls appeared in front of him, and his nine fingers danced across them. In Ixtalia, the firewall weakened as the president began switching off the defenses. The Rogues threw themselves at the failing barrier as glowing cracks formed within it.
The door of the airlock exploded open, and Temujin jumped through, his bow twanging before his feet hit the ground. The president toppled to the floor with an arrow through his temple.
Tem knocked a second arrow and pointed it at the general, who stood with both hands grasping the shut-off lever. He’d threaded the handle of the switch through the buttoned cuff of his shirt. If Tem killed him, the weight of his body would activate the lever as he fell, acting as a perfect dead-man’s switch.
Tem lowered his bow. “It’s been a long time, General.”
The man-elephant they called Ganesh stooped nearly double as he walked through the door, half-carrying an emaciated girl wearing a green flight-suit several sizes too large for her. Behind them ca
me the Gene-Freak spider known as Ohg.
“You’re the one they call Nihala?” Colrev asked the girl.
Kayla nodded weakly. “But my real name is Kayla Nighthawk.”
The general frowned. “Nighthawk?”
“I am descended from Peter Nighthawk.”
Colrev’s lip curled into a snarl. “So you’ve been sent to finish what your ancestor began?”
“It seems we’re allies this time,” Kayla said.
The general glanced at the screen. The Rogues thrust glowing staffs in the firewall’s cracks and pried them wider. His fingers itched to pull the lever and destroy his enemies. Why hesitate?
“Time is our common enemy,” Kayla said. “The Rogues have nearly cut me off from this physical body.”
“We have lost, then,” Colrev said and tightened his grip on the lever.
“Wait!” Ohg shouted, and Colrev paused. “We can still defeat them without exterminating humanity.”
“Give me access to the Main Computer.” Kayla’s voice was barely above a whisper, and she looked like she was about to pass out. “I can fight the Rogues as humanity’s champion.”
“If you win,” the general asked, “what is to keep you from simply taking their place?”
“I have no desire to rule anyone,” Kayla said, her skin drawn across her sunken features so that the outlines of her skull etched into gruesome relief.
The general shook his head. “I won’t surrender humanity to a cyborg.”
“Then you have freed me of my obligation,” Kayla said. “A day ago I could have sent a swarm of nanobots to keep you from pulling that lever, but now their combined energy is less than the strength in your little finger. Even if I exploded a few inside your brain, the dead-man’s switch you’ve rigged would bring about the same result.”
General Colrev’s fingers twitched. Am I to execute my entire species? But what choice is there? He turned his gaze on the Mongol. “If you had accepted my offer to join forces after the Neo-Luddite Plague, we could have ruled together and avoided this.”
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