Want to read Chapter Two?
It is said that in our world there is an invisible war between Satan and God. Each person is a pawn and center piece. One person is victory or defeat, and each game overlaps to affect another. Demons pour from the bowels of hell to lead us astray, and angels or our own species, the imperfect human, strive to save us. The imperfect man, vulnerable to temptation and weak to the call of greed with the gift of free will whether they try all of their lives to remain in the sustaining light of righteousness or rebel without a thought have to face the choice of pure, wondrous good hidden by hardship or sparkling evil that lures the unknowing man into an inescapable trap.
Rule 1:He has a plan, even if you don't.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5
He ran over the golden roads and dodged the many people robed in the same pure white cloth he wore. He held a book bound in white leather tightly against his chest as if it was the most precious object in his possession, and at the time it was. He stopped at a door of oak and gave two sharp knocks. He waited for a minute before pounding on the door in a less refined manner and walked in quickly when it swung open. “I got it. Are you sure this will get me my wings? If I’m caught I’ll be thrown down for sure.”
“Don’t worry. Have I ever broken my word before?”
He didn’t mention the fact that his boss was about to break one of the oldest, most important vows one could take in fear of the man before him. “No… I suppose not. I’m just worried. This could get me in more trouble than you. You’ll be gone.”
“You’ll have your wings. No one will know. Relax. This is foolproof . Others have done it before.”
He let himself believe his boss though he was smarter than his rather high forehead and thick, dark brows led some to believe and had checked the history of such capers as this one. None had succeeded and none had stolen one of the most sacred objects in Zion. He knew this wouldn’t end well but he would never get his wings any other way.
“Are you all right, Mitch? You’re not going to bail on me are you?”
“Please, backing out now would mean falling down indefinitely. I’m with you all the way.” Mitch handed him the white book and smiled. “Let’s see you off.”
Sirens sounded as soon as he closed the door to the bungalow of his dreams and all of Zion was thrown into mass confusion and suspicion for the first time since Beelzebub. Many angels had left heaven for reasons that Mitch had never understood, but there hadn’t been a mass leaving of the originals or the ones originating from Earth since evil had been created. Never had an object that had been touched by Him been brought to Earth without permission.
A sudden wave of paranoia broke over him as he realized he had just willing played a key role in the first theft of one of the Lord’s possessions. He checked the windows for avenging angels and locked the door. He felt a slight prickling on his back but couldn’t celebrate for his panic. How could he have ever thought he could out smart Him? What had he done? He was going to be thrown into the fiery depths, the place of eternal pain and suffering until the day of revelation came when he would just cease to exist. So not eternal suffering but suffering until a time in the unseen future. Somehow that small tidbit of information didn’t help his overwhelming panic. The prickling continued, and there was a loud, firm knock on his door.
A rusted blue bus so faded one could call it gray rattled down a dirt road and spat out black smoke that mingled with clouds of red dust. To go inside would mean to feel every bounce, jerk, and bump magnified by the uncomfortable seats that stuck to every inch of uncovered, sweaty skin. Heat made the already tense silence unbearable, and though many of the men tried to break it none succeeded for long.
Finally after a terrifying shudder on man asks, “What’s holding this piece of junk together?”
Another snorts and replies, “Duct tape and prayers.”
This brought many chuckles from the other passengers, but none of them were as hardy as the deep throated laughter from the African American across the aisle.
The black man stretches his arm out across the aisle to the comedian and says with a broad smile, “Conrad McCoy at your service.”
“Luke Jenkins.” He returned the smile and finished the handshake with a firm grasp but didn’t turn away, determine not to let the quiet return. “Come from Louisiana way.”
“Chicago area.” White teeth gleamed against dark brown skin slick with sweat, and cheeks dimpled into another dashing grin that came as easy as breathing.
Before another word could be said the bus trembled to a stop. The sullen bus driver opened the door with a squeak and leaned back with his forearms resting on the steering wheel.
Luke swung his duffel bag onto a shoulder and put his army issue cap low on his forehead over blonde, cropped hair. His blue eyes twinkled with the dreams of a new recruit fresh out of boot camp, and his tan face, for the most part, was always the picture of slight amusement. He glanced around at the others and saw the grim expressions of veterans that had seen too much for one man. He was one of the only ones who had yet to be tainted by the heavy strain of war.
As they filed out of the vehicle they lined up in front of a robust man of ruddy complexion.
“If you thought boot camp was hard you can leave now, ladies,” the man shouted and became even redder. He marched up to Conrad and screamed, spit flying onto his face. “Bet you had problems.”
Conrad kept his face impassive and didn’t move to wipe the other man’s saliva off of his face. “Thought it was a breeze, sir.” He let his mouth twitch into a small smile before going back into a straight line of uncaring.
“Fifty push-ups,” he yelled and walked away as he began, "Ladies, you’ll have it easy here. This facility gives each of you only one roommate in air conditioned rooms, decent food, actual beds. If you had a masseuse this would be a damn spa! I’ve only got you for three hours everyday until these eggheads ain’t got no more use for ya and to partially make up for the overall easy predicament I’m going to make the three said hours of you day a living hell.” He went on saying the same thing in different words.
Conrad got up and was told to do more.
A voice of impatience and ice cut through the speech, “Have you told them why they’re here, Harrow?” A young woman followed her words and faced the men. She was small but strong and prideful. Her golden locks were teased into loose curls and fell to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Behind sophisticated, black, square frames her large green eyes were enhanced with a touch of makeup as her lips which were a little bottom heavy were colored with a red lipstick. “I’m Amy Spindler, the boss.”
The men gaped, and some may have drooled if she hadn’t addressed them sharply as she did everyone.
“This is a confidential government facility. To the world you have just disappeared. To your family you’ve just been sent to Afghanistan. The letters you send home will be read before being sent out. New Mexico shall not be mentioned. If my people find a hint of a code your communication will be cut off. Everyone shares a room with a bunk mate. You’ll sleep on a twin bed and eat in a cafeteria with each other and scientists residing here.” She gave each man a glare of his own and continued with a schedule, “You shall wake at five and join Sergeant Harrow.” A long glance was bestowed to the man mentioned and silenced the speech he was going to give about his small, unimportant part in this system. “Eight shall see breakfast and nine will be for the lab. Lunch will be at twelve and will end at one. There will be a lecture from one to three. After that is more lab work until dinner at five thirty. You’ll have your time to yourself afterwards until the eleven thirty curfew when everyone should be in their own rooms. Understood?”
There was a slight hesitation before a chorus of “Yes, Ma’ams” erupted from the soldiers.”
“Good. I suppose I’ll see you at supper then.” She clicked away in shiny black heels and ignored the gazes that followed.
Luke and Conrad roomed together as the chart had said though both would have picked another man. Soon Luke knew Conrad’s young wife and twin boys as if he was an uncle while Conrad was privy to none of Luke’s personal life.
Luke wrote no letters. When he unpacked no pictures were unearthed. His wallet was filled with a few dollars, a credit card, and a single picture of a brunette girl, creased and torn. All questions concerning the girl were cleverly dodged or ignored but every night when the lights were turned off Conrad saw his buddy stare at the picture in the moonlight.
Two months had passed in monotony with the schedule followed tirelessly. Men went missing, and their vanishings weren’t spoken of until they were said to be forgotten though many always had it in the back of their minds. That was the only thing that happened of any importance.
He fell. To him it was a controlled fall but any witness would call it hurtling to his death. Slowly he opened his wings only enough to slow himself into a glide. He felt for the book underneath his shirt and found nothing. He looked around at the sky flying by him and felt a sinking dread. No. No. No, no, no. He couldn’t have lost it. He couldn’t have gone to all that trouble to lose the one thing he had sold his soul for. Suddenly he began to spin as panic overcame his sense of cool control.
The white book seemed to float to the ground and landed unharmed. The pure gleam it had in Zion had disappeared as a dream that comes during deep sleep and was replaced with smudges of dirt and the golden words lost their sparkle. Imperfect humanity dirtied it with the ungodliness of more than six billion souls, and it blended in.
Footsteps came closer and the book was lifted from the ground in long, pale fingers.
Mitch walked to the door on shaky legs and stood with his hand on the door. Another knock sounded, and his heart flipped. “Coming,” he called and looked around with a harried gaze for any weapon though he knew nothing would work against a fellow angel. He took a deep breath and gathered what small amount of courage he had ever possessed. Finally he opened the door and said in defeat, “I did it but I'm not alone.”
An avenging angel stood there and thought a moment before nodding. “That was easier than I thought it would be. I'll let you walk out of here free, but as a warning I'm going to tell you that the disciples want to see you.”
The disciples did not just consist of the twelve that followed the sacrificial lamb but of any who had done such godly acts in their life, previous or eternal, that they decided what punishment was given to the angels who took advantage of the free will they were given and disobeyed. A different group of twelve were given to each case no matter how infrequent they were. You didn't bargain with the group whichever twelve it would be. Your cowardice would not be accepted and neither would your bravery only honesty, humility, and true repentance could sway the board to grant you forgiveness. Every decision could be vetoed by Him. There was yet to be a time where He would take away mercy and to condemn a lost lamb... but it was rare for the disciples to vote in favor of the accused.
Mitch made no comment and walked with his brethren with his eyes glued to the shining bricks of solid gold. He felt the prickling take on a stronger intensity and began to hate the wings with a vehemence he had never experienced before. He hoped he would be able to take whatever the disciples gave him without begging for more. He thought of his wife on earth grieving when he was content in this place and faced all of his weaknesses.
All that mattered was getting the Bible back. His wings and his place in heaven was suddenly nothing. In the wrong hands that thing of good could be used for evil and he was afraid for his wife, sick with cancer and pregnant with their first child alone on a planet that could very well come apart before it was meant to. What had he been thinking?
So focused on seeing his wife one more time and comforting her had he really looked over what would happen when such a thing was released upon the world?
Mitch's eyes, still staring at the road, grew determined. He would do whatever he could to save humanity from the heavenly object that earth wasn't yet prepared for.
Long, pale fingers delicately turned thin pages, and bloodshot eyes flitted from one side of the page to the other as the godly words were absorbed. A mind twisted by isolation and lab tests turned the words into something of a different meaning, a darker meaning.
A nurse, one of the only people he had contact with in came in with a metal tray and smiled her daily smile. “Hello. How are you doing today?”
A fingernail, yellowed and rough with months of uncaring was pointed toward her. A voice, gravelly with no use, that had never replied to her cheerful greeting accused, “You have sinned!” A verse was read off and was followed by screeches. “The world must be cleansed of your evil!”
She frowned and began to back out of the room when pain filled her consciousness. She fell to her knees and grabbed hair that was suddenly white with wrinkled fingers that had a moment before been smooth with youth. A terrible scream came from her mouth and she fell to the ground, still and silent.
Long, pale fingers delicately turned thin pages and bloodshot eyes flitted from one side of the page to the other. The company of a corpse was not registered as the Bible was read in the unnatural white light of the cell.
“... Sir?” a hesitant, weak voice called quietly.
“Yes?”
A small mousy man flinched at the power in the one syllable and whispered to the floor, “It couldn't be found.” He glanced at the man in the pinstriped suit behind the grand oak desk only to look away from the angry eyes.
“What?”
“The Bible wasn't found. We don't know where it is.”
A beam of white light erupted from the behind the desk and hit the mousy man in the chest. He let out a strangled shriek and disintegrated without even dust as a trace of his existence.
The murderer stood and kicked at a trash bin. Crumpled balls of paper spilled onto the floor and were trampled by shiny black shoes as the man stormed out of the door.
Amy frowned at the body of her former employee and searched for a scientific answer to the unusual death. She found that the longer she worked at this place the harder it was to say science was truly the basis of the world. Odd things happened here that could not be explained away by any scientific theory.
Being raised in a dysfunctional family many things hadn't been given to her, but she had received a christian upbringing. She believed the Big Bang Theory was possible but was not generated by a series of coincidences. Coincidences didn't exist. Everything and everyone had a purpose. You could chose to fulfill that purpose or you could chose to follow a path of your own through the dessert. Amy at this moment and time could still see the path she was meant to be on but was getting farther away.
She knew some of the things only she and the owner had access to weren't meant to be here, weren't meant to be given to the world. There was evil here that she was a direct part of. She wanted to leave but was afraid. People vanished, people died because they left. Her boss was not a man to be messed with.
“Where did he get the Bible?” she asked the medical examiner and stared at the picture of the deceased. She was young and pretty on the piece of paper.
“No one knows. Nothing has been sent to him. No one has given him anything. He can't get out.”
She felt a chill. If he was getting out without anyone knowing things would get bad really fast. People died for mistakes here too.
“And he didn't try to escape through the open door?”
“No he was still there reading the bible. The security guard won't speak to anyone now. He has lesions all over his body and has become quite volatile. I haven't been able to get extremely close, but he seems to be experiencing aging as she did. I'm not sure what's happening.'
“Does she have any family?”
“She's like me and you and every other scientist here. If she has anyone they don't know where she is.”
“Keep her a few more days for examination purposes and figure out how she got this way. The big man will want this.” She clicked out of the morgue and massaged her temples. She sipped at the bottle of water that was always by her side and took a bottle of Advil from her purse. She swallowed a few more than the label advised and continued her trip to the cafeteria though her appetite was ruined by the odd death of one of her nurses.
Luke studied the paintings and admitted to Conrad with a smile, “I don't think I know how to get back.”
Conrad stared at the ugly floral painting that adorned all the halls and frowned. They're all the same.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Someone will find us. Or we'll wander back home.” He tried a doorknob he assumed was locked.
To his astonishment it gave and the door swung open easily without a squeak.
He looked in slowly and stepped in after a moment. “Jenkins, I found... someone.”
Luke peered over his friend's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell?”
Long, pale fingers flipped pages carefully and bloodshot eyes flicked over the pages. A metal table dominated the room joined only by a cot in a corner. A man sat at the table in a small matching chair and seemed to ignore their presence. Any muscle he had once owned had wasted away. A sick pallor came from months of indoors with only small glimpses of true light. Half of his face was covered in in a stringy beard as dirty as his oily, receding hair.
Again Luke got the feeling of fear that had strengthened over the months. It was not a fear of man but of the building, though the tests so far had been simple and painless. What was to come? The men missing, where were they? Somehow he couldn't get believe the answer was home. Honestly, he doubted any of them would make it home. This place held too many dark secrets for his comfort.
“Shoulda knocked. Gonna kill ya now,” the man murmured without looking at his guest and continued to read.
“How do you plan to do that?” Conrad asked slowly and walked in carefully. He glanced at the book and back at the stranger.
The man laughed and pointed at the book with a slender finger. “This. Here, because we have those of little faith in here I'll give you an example.” He glanced around at the room and said with a mocking smile, “This whole place is seeped in sin.” He stared at Luke. “As are you. Do you think your secrets will be hidden forever? Don't you know He sees through your show of logic?” He flipped to another page and tapped a verse with a yellowed fingernail. He gave Luke the bible and pointed to the verse. “This gives me the reason to destroy this place.” Taking the bible back he flipped to another page. “And this let's me carry it out.”
Luke's eyes flicked over the page and returned to the stranger's face. “Sodom and Gomorrah.” He frowned and asked, “What is this?”
The man waved away the question and continued with his own thoughts, “Now, I can get rid of you, the sinner.” He began flipping pages again and muttered to himself.
Conrad put a hand on his friend's shoulder and asked, “Should we leave?”
“Leave? Leave! When the darkest of all sinners is before me? No, no, no.” He laughed crazily and continued searching for the verse he needed.
The door slammed behind them.
“Luke, this is bad,” Conrad breathed and let his eyes dart around the room for an escape. “Really, really bad.”
“Not for you. Not yet. Only him, the faithless, the unbeliever.”
Luke flipped the metal table and closed his eyes against the metallic clatter. “Quiet!” he ordered and ripped the bible from the man's grasp. “Let's go, Conrad. I'm tired of this.” He stormed to the door and threw it open. “Nice to meet you, too,” he hissed over his shoulder and tucked the bible under his arm as he walked out.
Laughter followed them down the hallway. “If you think that little show of anger scares me you're mistaken. You are nothing compared to my power.”
Luke shivered and dropped the book in a nearby trashcan as if he could no longer stand to touch it.
Conrad stared at the trashcan for a long moment before bending down. “I've got to tie my shoe. Go ahead. I'll catch up.” He watched his friend turn a corner and got up when he was out of sight. He searched the hall for any stray nurse and when he found no one he strode toward the trashcan. He peered into the trashcan and fished out the bible. He lifted his collar to his mouth and murmured, “It has been recovered. It has been recovered.” He chuckled darkly and began to catch up with Luke. Poor, poor, gullible Luke. He was just another pawn in the game of the serpent.
