On a related matter, there is no factual basis to the belief that a rogue planet called Planet X or Nibiru (or Nemesis, Hercolubus, Sedna, Eris, or Tyche) will collide with Earth. If a planet was approaching Earth on a course that would cause it to strike Earth sometime in the next few months, it would already be visible in the sky. It would appear larger than the moon and easily be seen with the naked eye. In fact, astronomers would probably have years of advanced warning before any such event. And there would be no way for any government to conceal it.
Therefore, there is no cause for alarm, and NASA sincerely urges the public to enjoy the holiday season free of any apocalyptic angst or fear whatsoever.
From all of us at NASA, we wish you a happy and prosperous New World Age on December 22, 2012.
Masterson was reading the monitor over Jace’s shoulder. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. “Is that what this is all about? You’re out on the flats marking a landing zone for the mothership?”
“Caught me,” Jace said.
AF2 1.0
WHILE ADAM AND Corny hammered away in the cottage chamber, Hosea and Proverbs ferried up loads of building material in the mining cart. It was heavy work, and even in the chilly tunnels, big-bodied Hosea was sweating. When he paused to wipe his forehead, he heard something odd on the first level and called for Proverbs to wait up.
“What?” Proverbs said.
“Quiet. Listen.”
They stood still and listened.
“I don’t hear anything,” Proverbs said.
“It sounds like someone humming. Don’t you hear it?”
“No. It’s probably just a draft in the tunnels.”
“It sounds like a woman humming.”
“Maybe one of the girls.”
“What would a girl be doing in the keep?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her when we’re finished.” Proverbs readjusted his eyepatch and went back to work.
They continued with their task, but on the next load, the sound returned, and this time Proverbs heard it too.
They left the cart and walked up the tunnel. When they reached the old break room, they paused to shine their lights all around inside. Four long tables filled most of the space. A wooden counter ran along one side. There was a rusted sink at one end with a wooden slop bucket under the drain. Antique light bulbs hung from wires strung along the stone ceiling. Everything lay under a thirty-year accumulation of dust.
They heard the sound again coming from further up the tunnel. It was definitely a female voice, and she was half-singing, half-humming a choir hymn of some sort.
“What’s a girl doing singing in the tunnels?” Proverbs said.
“You got me, brother.”
They followed the voice to the powder room door.
“Who does that sound like?” Proverbs asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Ginger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sue?”
“Beats me. The question is, how did she get in there?”
“Well, obviously,” Proverbs said, pointing at the iron hasp on which hung a padlock, “someone locked her in. Poppy probably, except that this is where he put the angel’s marble.”
The singing/humming continued without interruption, and Hosea raised his hand to knock. “I don’t like this,” he said. He knocked three times and said loudly, “Who’s in there?”
The singing stopped.
“Whoever it is, hang tight. We’re going to find the key and open the door.” To Proverbs he said, “You stay here and keep her company. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re crazy,” Proverbs said. “I’m not staying here by myself.”
“What’s wrong, brother? You scared?”
“No.”
“Well, you won’t be alone. She’s here too, and just think how scared she must be locked up in a tiny room.”
“She didn’t sound scared. She was singing.”
“If it was up to you, we’d’a never found her in the first place.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You didn’t even hear her. I had to tell you twice I heard something.”
“So what? Maybe your hearing is better than mine. Big deal.”
“Just stay here till I get back. I’m the elder of you, and you have to obey me.” Raising his voice, Hosea addressed the girl again. “Don’t be scared, miss. My brother will stay here to keep you company.”
Hosea trundled down the tunnel to the gate where he paused to put on his parka. Someone behind him said, “What if he locked her up?”
It made Hosea jump and knock his shin against the bench. Proverbs had followed him out. “Don’t do that! Don’t sneak up on a body. Why didn’t you stay there like I told you?”
Proverbs’ good eye burned with excitement. “What if it’s Ginger, and Poppy locked her up as punishment for something?”
“Well, seeing how he has all the keys, that would be a logical deduction, but I think he would’a told us.”
They hiked down the slide with sore backs and sore legs and went first to the big house. Poppy wasn’t there, but there was smoke in the prayer cabin stack, so they went there and Hosea rapped lightly on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Uh, Hosea, lord, and, uh, Proverbs.”
“Why aren’t you two working?”
“Because we have something to tell you, lord.”
“And it takes two of you to tell it?”
Hosea gave his brother a dirty look. “Uh, lord,” he said to the door, “there’s a girl locked up in the powder room.”
“Say again.”
“A girl, lord, locked in the powder room.”
“What girl?”
“We don’t know, lord. She wouldn’t talk to us.”
“Where is she?”
“In the powder room, lord.”
“I’m busy, son, and I don’t have time for your bullshitting around.”
“It’s not bullshit, lord.”
Proverbs added, “I heard her too, lord.”
There were footfalls inside, and a moment later the door swung open to reveal the old man in a robe and stocking feet. His beard was sprinkled with cookie crumbs. He blocked the doorway with his belly to prevent them from entering and said, “Boys, I’m in no mood for your foolishness. There can’t be a girl in the powder room because there’s a lock on the door with only two keys, and I have both of them right here.” He showed them his keyring. “Now get back to work and leave me alone.”
“Yes, lord, but —” Hosea said.
Poppy was shutting the door when a raven, perched in a nearby spruce tree, took off into the air. Poppy watched it fly away. “Wait till I get dressed,” he said.
THE GIRL WAS singing “Saved by the Blood of the Crucified One” in a rich mezzo-soprano. It was not the voice of anyone in the family. Moreover, a brilliant light shined around the edges of the powder room door.
“Wasn’t no light before,” Hosea whispered.
“Silence!” Poppy hissed. He put his ear next to the door and listened intently. The voice had a Midwestern twang to it, and though he couldn’t place it, he was sure it wasn’t the child’s voice he’d heard in the woods. Naturally, a demon could imitate any voice it chose, but a demon probably couldn’t utter the words:
A child of the Father, joint heir with the Son,
Saved by the blood of the Crucified One!
without gagging on them. So he located the key on his keyring and slipped it into the lock. “Stand back,” he urged his sons as he removed his Bible from its holster. Clutching it before him like a shield, he opened the door. A blinding light spilled into the tunnel.
“About time,” said the voice. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d come to the right place.”
Poppy covered his eyes and peeked through his fingers. He saw a face, a giant face that completely filled the doorway. Actually, it was a giant face plus the cleavage of two enormous, snowy
breasts.
“Who are you?” Poppy demanded.
“I am Martha of the Seraphim in the First Rank of the Ninth Order of Archangels. And don’t bark at me, mortal.”
Poppy’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he lowered the Bible. He could see her hands now too, also huge, but mostly he saw the tops of her ginormous breasts. She appeared to be resting on her elbows and knees in the cramped space, pressed against the wall and ceiling of the powder room.
“You’re an angel?”
“Isn’t that what I just said? Now, step aside and allow me to get out of here.”
Poppy moved away from the door. His sons, he noticed, had already retreated down the tunnel halfway to the break room. As the angel squeezed through the doorway, her shoulder got hung up on the jamb. She sucked in her breath and muttered something in an ancient-sounding tongue. Carefully, she backed up and tried again.
Out at last, the radiance of her person lit the tunnel in both directions. She tried to stand up, but the tunnel at that spot was only eight feet high (2.4 m), and she was forced to crouch, with her shoulders and upper back pressing against the ceiling.
The boys, meanwhile, fell to their knees. To them the angel said, “Arise, sons of Abraham. It is unseemly for men to kneel before angels. I am not a deity but only the servant of the Almighty.” To Poppy she added, “It is I who should bow to thee, O favored servant of God.”
Even Poppy was taken back by this pronouncement, but only a little.
“On further reflection,” the angel Martha continued, “it appears I am already bowing.” She rapped the rocky ceiling with her massive knuckles. “Prithee, let us remove ourselves to a more commodious den.”
“Yes, of course,” Poppy said, still reeling from the encounter. “We can go to the machine room. Or even closer to the break room. Follow me.” Poppy set off down the tunnel, but the angel called him back.
“I pray thee return and carry the key for me. Now that I have found it, I dare not let it out of my sight again.”
“The key?” Poppy said. “I don’t understand.”
“I believe you do understand, Master Prophecy. I am the Fifth Angel.”
AF3 1.0
THE FIFTH ANGEL lit up the break room chamber with her high-wattage aura. Her lustrous mahogany hair was gathered into a bun on top of her head, with a halo surrounding it like a ring toss.
The golden marble seemed even heavier than before, and Poppy had difficulty carrying it all the way to the break room by himself. With so much mass in such a small volume, the little sphere felt more pointed than round in his hand. Hosea offered to help, and Poppy gladly handed it off to his son. Hosea set it carefully on one of the lunch tables. The old wood creaked under the load.
The angel’s robe was a loose garment of shimmering white linen cinched at the waist with a splendrous green sash. When she spoke, her body glowed so brightly that her robe all but disappeared, and the boys averted their eyes.
Not so Poppy. He coolly compared the angel’s attributes to those of earthly women. Her breasts, pendulous by anyone’s standard, had no nipples. Like Eve, she possessed no belly button. Surprisingly, she also seemed to lack a snatch. Her nether regions were as smooth and unslotted as a child’s baby doll. It made Poppy wonder how, if male angels were likewise so poorly endowed, they had managed to impregnate human women before the Flood. This was a question for later study.
The angel’s legs and haunches were stout and muscled, like those of athletes depicted in ancient statuary. She had the biceps of a weightlifter, as well as the thick neck and broad shoulders. The better for supporting wings, he supposed. Her only softening feature, besides her breasts, were her warm, brown eyes.
Then it struck him who she reminded him of, the governor of Alaska, Vera Tetlin. Once he noticed the resemblance, it was inescapable. They could be cousins.
“You say you are the Fifth Angel as recorded in Revelation,” Poppy said. “And that the marble is the key to the bottomless pit of Hell.”
“Verily.”
“How is that possible? The Bible says nothing about the Fifth Angel fumbling her trumpet and key.”
“Truly, it does not,” she replied. “Nor does it say that she didn’t drop them, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t, but it seems like an important detail, and I can’t imagine the Apostle John leaving something like that out.”
Those warm, brown eyes grew suddenly cold and flinty. “Are you saying you know better than the Holy Spirit what to record and what to leave out? Are you second-guessing His disciple John?” She stood tall and seemed to fill the room.
“No, no,” Poppy hastened to say. “Not at all. But it’s a fair question, it seems to me.”
Martha’s radiance dimmed a little, and her shoulders slumped. “Be at peace, my friend. You are right, it is a fair question, and one that deserves to be answered. I shall not let my bruised honor prevent me from doing so. In a word, I was clumsy, and my sturdy arm was buffeted by sin.”
“You committed a sin?”
“No, not I. Angels have only sinned the once when my brother, Lucifer, and his legions tried to topple the Creator from His throne. For which treachery they were cast out of Heaven before the dawn of time. No, it was Man’s sin, or sins, billions of them each moment in this wicked world, that disrupts the harmony of Heaven, makes the Almighty weep, and His servants clumsy and dull-witted.
“On Earth, you have a concept called the ‘fog of war,’ yes? This calamity also afflicts the Heavenly host; sin is Satan’s weapon, and sinners are his unwitting allies. That is the reason why the Final Battle takes place on Earth, for nowhere else in creation does Satan stand a chance of prevailing.”
The angel’s sturdy feet were shod in Roman-style sandals, with leather bindings that wound around her ankles and calves like snakes. Her feet left no prints on the dusty floor. Odd, for she seemed to be a physical being. And for that matter, why hadn’t she carried the “key” herself?
“Or,” Poppy said, “you are an impostor, a devil in disguise to trick us.”
“Have you so little faith in your own righteousness, Master Prophecy? I can see with my eyes that you have cleansed this fortress of all devils and demons and sealed its portals with the juice of the olive. To heavenly eyes, this anointing shines brighter than the fires of pitch and brimstone that rage in Hell, and it marks this place as sanctified to the Lord of Heaven. It was the sign I needed to locate the missing key. Do not doubt your God-given powers, Master Prophecy, for Heaven will have sore need of them in the coming days and weeks. If I am to fulfill the Word as prophesied, I too will have need of the one called Prophecy and of his noble sons.”
Poppy and the boys exchanged a glance. “What need,” Poppy said, “do you, an archangel of Father God, have of me and my sons?”
“The bottomless pit must be opened and the locusts and stinging scorpions released to torment evil men as written in Revelation. Otherwise, the opening salvo of the final battle will be botched, and Satan will gain the upper hand.
“Until the pit is opened, the sixth angel cannot sound her trumpet that will loose the four Angels of Death who are bound in the River Euphrates to accomplish their bloody assignment of slaying the third part of men.
“Until the pit is opened, the war cannot proceed, God’s victory cannot be proclaimed, and the New Earth cannot be founded. Lucifer and his followers lack the power to defeat Almighty God, but they can delay His will for millennia.”
All of this sounded plausible, but Poppy remained uneasy. “If you are Father God’s warrior assigned by Him to unlock the pit, why can’t you do it yourself? Why do you need the help of mortals?”
“I will show you why, although it fills you with revulsion and me with shame.” Until then, the angel had not turned her back to the men. Now she did so and extended her six wings. Her two main wings, her snowy-white instruments of flight, were withered, crippled things. One ended in a twisted, little knob. The other was scorched along its length, its fine bo
nes broken, and its fabric of feathers ripped to shreds.
The four small trim wings were wrenched from their sockets and plucked, like chicken wings from the grocery store.
“Sin!” she exclaimed, carefully folding and extending her damaged wings. “Behold the power of sin over angels.” She turned to them again. “Pray for me, Prophecys. Prayer is a balm that helps me heal. But I am too badly damaged and won’t heal in time to unlock the pit by myself. I need your prayers, yes, and I need your help even more.
“I must send up a beacon of light to rally the angels. My comrades must arrive before Satan’s horde, or all hope will be lost. But I am in no shape to summon them myself. Will you help?”
The sight of her injuries was shocking, but her naked plea for help was even more.
“A beacon?” Poppy Prophecy said. “What sort of beacon?”
“A flare,” replied Martha, the self-proclaimed Fifth Angel. “Similar to the flare an injured hunter might shoot skyward to summon his rescuers. In this case, the flare’s brilliance will escape the bounds of Earth and be seen from the Throne Room.”
“If it’s so bright, won’t Hell see it too?”
“Verily, Hell will. Thus shall my flare serve as the starting gun for a desperate race. The fleetest of my comrades and enemies will strive to arrive first. We must prepare ourselves for the situation in which our side is the runner up.”
“Wait a minute. What if I don’t want my family’s refuge to become your battleground?”
“What can I say, Master Prophecy? My key fell into your back yard, but no one made you pick it up. You are the one who brought it here. Here is where I found it. Here is where it remains.”
Why was the angel so comely? Why did she resemble the Alaska governor? Dear Holy Spirit, feel free to clue me in at any time.
“And if I refuse to help? What then?”
Upon This Rock Page 25