All of this was learned later during the raid on the MCP compound, but I wasn’t there, so I will give a quick outline of what happened. The raid was a mix of FBI, local police, and National Guard troops. Fortunately, there was very little resistance put up by the MCP members. Almost all of the wolf-dogs had been killed, and the ones that remained had been in a pen, not roaming the compound. They made the raid at daybreak the day after we came down from Mount Mariposa. Nearly the entire security force of Justified members had already been wiped out. It quickly became clear that many of the MCP members were prisoners in their own homes, so when the raid happened, it was more of a liberation than an invasion. The FBI agents, Colorado State troopers, and National Guard soldiers were met with sobs of joy in many cases. They also found a high percentage of mentally ill patients who had not been receiving the care they needed. They found people with open sores, often covered in lice, and in some cases, covered in feces.
The typical member of the MCP had lived in poverty. The conditions were primitive—without the help of electricity or modern medicine. They had midwives, but they didn’t have a real hospital. As a consequence, for example, their infant mortality rate was later calculated to be astronomically high—much higher than your typical third world country. They weren’t allowed to call 911 or go to a hospital. Burke would allow some things—they had access to a rudimentary medical clinic, but the conditions were horrendous. Stepping into their world was stepping back in time. As a consequence, many of them died young, and their population was dwindling from the start.
The authorities found warehouses full of coal, and most dwellings had coal stoves. The buildings were rudimentary and designed to pack in as many people as possible. It was all about efficiency and cost savings. There were no luxuries and very little privacy.
The MCP had been buying up coal in preparation for the end times. They had hundreds of cords of firewood, too. There was even a rudimentary fire suppression system in their warehouses. They had money, it was clear—those planes weren’t cheap, and they had modern amenities for the ‘Justified’ and the ‘Elders’—but they let the rest of their population languish in poverty. They spent money preparing for ice age survival. They had a warehouse full of canned goods. They had fields of wheat—outside the walls of the compound—and other crops like corn and soybeans. They had a substantial farming operation, and they had stored everything carefully, in anticipation of the apocalypse.
The MCP scientists had predicted that the new ice age would not reach them. The MCP compound is much farther south than New York—it’s about the same latitude as Virginia. So, they had calculated that the MCP compound would find itself a few hundred miles beyond the edge of the advancing glacier.
The dogs they bred were later found to be a mix of pit bull, husky, German Shephard, and wolf. They didn’t use any fancy techniques—no genetic engineering, no splicing DNA. They apparently just stuck the animals in the same pens and bred them over many years until they had the right mix of viciousness and discipline. What the MCP lacked in technology they made up for in cruelty.
Their whole way of life was brutal—to them, death was no big deal because they saw it almost every day. The MCP compound was a small segment of Colorado that had been living in the middle ages. They were living in such incredibly harsh conditions that they couldn’t afford to have everyday feelings like sympathy or empathy. You can’t be too sensitive when you are constantly facing disease, poverty, and death… all of which serves to reinforce your belief that the Messiah is the only one who can save you. Never mind the fact that he’s the one forcing you to live in those conditions.
But I digress. I’m supposed to be telling you about how Emily and I lived happily ever after. Sure, we had to change our names, and move, and learn to live with the threat of MCP fanatics coming after us—but it’s a small price to pay for happiness. I still get to practice medicine, and she will eventually go back to law enforcement, although she’s taking a break for the moment. We’re still adjusting to life after the MCP.
So, let me finish the story. As most people know, it turns out that one of the MCP members was a billionaire. Laura P. Morse, the heiress of Morse Industries, inherited enough money to buy about three dozen aircraft and one small nuclear device. Because of her wealth, Burke had made her a VIP—she was the only woman permitted to be on the MCP Council of Elders. I still am not sure what her mindset was, openly supporting a misogynistic organization like that, but on the other hand, she was crazy, so maybe I’m reading too much into it.
As for the MCP’s thirty-two aircraft, most of them had been grounded prior to the attack on Washington, DC. Then, after the nuclear explosion, all airspace over the US was closed, but apparently three of them didn’t get the memo. They were shot down by jet fighters out of Colorado Springs. The other twenty-nine aircraft were recovered intact, but they had dropped their payload in the stratosphere over the course of the prior months. The three massive MCP warehouses were empty other than small quantities of the chemicals they had stored.
When they finally found Lucas Burke, they say he was hiding in a basement. It was a tiny room accessed by a trapdoor hidden under the rug of a church. Initially he had been full of bluster, screaming that the whole place was booby trapped, but it wasn’t. He was bluffing. Like his whole façade, it was a lie, and they say that when they finally cuffed him, he cried like a baby. It was quite pathetic, from what I understand. He begged and pleaded and tried to bargain with his captors. It’s not what one would expect from a cult leader. Or, maybe it is—I’m no expert in psychology. I had just assumed that Burke was convinced of his own Holy righteousness, and that he would have a calm, placid demeanor. But apparently, the Seraphim was the only one who really believed in the Messiah. Deep down, Lucas Burke knew he was a false prophet. He knew that the MCP was a sham, and at the end, he made it clear that he would do anything to avoid jail. He tried to implicate Laura Morse, he tried to throw anyone else under the bus so as to avoid his punishment. Not exactly the actions of a righteous man.
That’s about all the new information I have to add to this saga, but I will recap for the sake of posterity. After all, my agent says I’m getting paid by the word and I’m thinking of getting a hot tub installed on the porch.
Emily drove us down from Mount Mariposa and eventually we made it on to a paved road. We continued trying to call the FBI but now we knew why the lines were all tied up. We couldn’t get through to anyone. We were halfway to Denver when three black unmarked SUVs suddenly cut us off and surrounded us. Emily screeched to a halt. There were flashing blue lights on their grills and dashboards. We all just stared at them. I had been half-expecting something like that to happen, but it was still a shock. A helicopter circled overhead.
The voice on the loudspeaker commanded us to get out of the car right before the rotor wash from the helicopter started to stir things up. We did as they instructed and threw our weapons on to the road, then lay on our stomachs, face down on the asphalt. There was a moment when I thought they might shoot Emily’s father, who was unable to comply as he didn’t understand what was going on, but luckily cooler heads prevailed and then they were hand cuffing us and bringing us to Denver in the SUVs.
They seemed to realize right away that we weren’t who they thought we were—I think once Emily identified herself as a Sheriff’s deputy, they understood that we weren’t the MCP. So, I just watched the world go by for the three-hour ride to Denver, and my only worry was that they wouldn’t let me see Emily anytime soon. Or that they would torture me, and I would permanently become a resident of Guantanamo Bay. But I figured that probably wouldn’t happen. So, I drifted off to sleep and woke up in Denver.
I woke up as we were on the outskirts of the city and there seemed to be a cop on every corner. Literally. It was bizarre. I had been to Denver plenty of times before and I had never seen it like this. There were three police barricades that we had to get through just to get into downtown. There were uniforms everywhere
and flashing lights and checkpoints, and we had to go through several more barricades. But eventually we pulled into an underground garage beneath a massive building in the center of downtown. I assumed it was the Federal Building. I knew what was going on—they were on high alert, because Washington, DC had been bombed. But it is one thing to know something, and quite another to see the effects. It was surreal and my jaw hung open the whole time.
Before long I was in an interrogation room. They sat me down and even uncuffed me and gave me some coffee. I was alone in the room. It wasn’t long before Assistant Director Lockhart and three other agents showed up.
I proceeded to give the FBI agents a rundown of recent events. I explained everything from the beginning. I started with Mary Sorrow being brought into my Emergency Department. At some point I explained that I had helped perpetrate a break-in to the MCP compound, but it no longer seemed like such a big deal to me. Then I talked about the fire at Tumbledown Ranch, how Emily had found Franklin Monteiro hidden in a church, and the subsequent burning of the Sheriff’s Department and the murders of Sheriff Edwards, Father Santos, and Special Agent Xavier Gibbons.
This all took about twenty minutes and it was clear that much of the information was not new to the agents listening to my fantastic tale. They nodded and asked for some clarification but mostly I just poured out everything I knew. And then I got to the part where we were chased up Mount Mariposa and Cody was torn apart by a pack of wolf-dog hybrids. But they were only really interested when I told them about the Seraphim’s confession. I explained that Lucas Burke thought that he was Noah, but instead of a flood there would be a new ice age. Which, in that analogy, made the MCP compound Noah’s Ark. They suddenly seemed very captivated by what I had to say.
I kept talking, and soon I had told them everything I could remember. I talked about thirty-two planes that could fly into the stratosphere to release chemical crystals, and the complete reversal of the greenhouse effect. I talked about volcanoes and asteroids and all of the dinosaurs dying, and I was pretty sure by now that they definitely thought I was crazy, but they let me keep talking. And then I had gotten to the end, and I couldn’t think of anything to add, so I asked them if I could have a donut, or anything to eat, really, because I suddenly realized I was starving.
Everyone knows what happened—and eventually the FBI briefed me on what they knew at that point. The bomb had killed approximately 200,000 in the initial blast. Later, half a million more would perish from the nuclear fallout. All of Washington, DC and the surrounding area instantly became a radioactive wasteland. The Vice President survived and less than half of Congress, but it didn’t take long for them to come up with a new capitol and a new set of lawmakers. So now there’s a construction boom in North Dakota, which is good, if you ask me. It always seemed like South Dakota got all the attention before. And they say that New Washington, North Dakota is quite a sight to behold.
They brought me a sandwich and kept me in that same room for a few more hours and then Lockhart must have made a judgement call or maybe he had gotten permission from someone higher up, because suddenly they let us go. They opened up the door and I stepped out into the hall and there was Emily. We hugged like we hadn’t see each other in years, and then we shared a brief kiss. It just happened naturally, like we had been together forever. I heard Emily’s mother say, “Oh, my.”
There isn’t much more to tell, as much as I’d like to drag this thing out. Emily accepted my offer to go to dinner. A few nights later we went to The Hungry Clogger and ate chicken fried steak. At the time, we didn’t know whether the crazy ‘global cooling’ scheme would be effective. So, everything was quite surreal… I mean, sure, DC was gone, and there was a new ice age coming… but the really crazy thing was that Emily was going out with me.
It’s been over two years since our first date, and as everyone knows, the climate effects were nothing like what the Seraphim had claimed they would be. The average global temperature has cooled off—but instead of a ten-degree Celsius drop, it’s been closer to two degrees. Which, as it turns out, is still a big deal; after all, that’s just an average that includes the equator, so it’s an underestimate for most cities. They say New York now is more like Maine used to be—and Maine is more like Alaska. Some scientists think the drop may get worse next year… but I don’t think so.
In my opinion, at least as far as climate goes, the MCP did the world a big favor. They single handedly reversed global warming. It’s a fact that there haven’t been anywhere near as many hurricanes or forest fires this year. And the ski resorts are loving it. As for me, I’m a cold weather person—and last summer was perfect. We hardly even needed the AC.
Emily and I got married in the fall. We had been dating for well over a year, and I knew she was the one for me from the moment she came to the hospital to interrogate me. So, I got down on my knee right in the middle of our favorite Italian restaurant. We got married on top of our favorite mountain—it was a small ceremony, but it was perfect. When it’s right, it’s right.
We haven’t decided on a name for the baby yet. It’s a girl, which we’re both happy about—I’m particular to Seraphina. Just kidding, of course… We’re thinking Burke. Ha Ha. We’ve been too busy to come up with a name, but I’ve got some ideas. As I mentioned, we went into witness protection with the FBI, so we had to move, and change our names. It’s been exhausting, but the money from the book deal has helped…OK, it’s helped a lot. Our past lives are secret, because we are known as the sworn enemies of the MCP, and no matter what, that cult still exists. There are still ardent followers who seek to do us harm. To quote a wise man…What a bunch of loonies.
Emily and I purchased a beautiful home in an undisclosed mountain town. We might put on an addition next year—we’re an expanding family, after all. I work as a doctor and still enjoy what I do. Emily is a home maker, for now, and has actually been the one to write most of this book, although we decided from the beginning that we would write it in my voice.
All in all, despite the horrific tragedy of Washington, DC, things worked out quite well for me. Take a moment to think back about when you fell in love with your wife or husband or whoever it is that you love the most in this world… that is how I look back on the whole episode. I wish I could have prevented what the MCP did, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure anyone could have. Many good people died trying, sacrificing themselves in the process. The fact that they were unsuccessful does not in any way diminish their valor. To that end, I gave the video of Agent Gibbons—the one I made of him saying goodbye—to Assistant Director Lockhart, to give to his family. Emily and I attended three funerals in one week—for Agent Gibbons, Sheriff Edwards and Reverend Santos. It was a sad time, but it made me thankful for what I have.
The way I see it, Emily and I are just very, very lucky. When we snuggle up in front of the fire at night, and I strategically place my ski boots nearby so they will be nice and dry in the morning—but not too close to melt the plastic—I think to myself, O’Neill, you are a lucky bastard.
After all, this has been the best ski season in a hundred years.
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Keep reading for a sneak peek of Raymond Finkle’s first novel, The Mendelian Protocol
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The Mendelian Protocol 1
Chapter 1
Eagle Cay, Bahamas
Ronald James was dying and he knew it. Time was slowing down and he was getting tunnel vision. He looked at the man that had stabbed him. He focused on the pale skin that seemed to move in the moonlight. Somewhere in the back of Ronald’s mind he registered that the man was naked. Thoughts flooded his brain even as the blood flowing from his neck slowed down. Why? He had to know why.
He had no money or valuables. He was on a desert island with no one arou
nd for miles. He couldn’t accept that he would die here for no apparent reason. Then he remembered Sarah and he tried to scream her name but his vocal cords refused to make any noise.
His last thoughts were of Sarah’s great warmth and beauty. Then things grew dark and he lost consciousness. By the time Ronald’s heart stopped beating his attacker had already reached the campsite where Sarah lay dozing by the fire.
The naked man stood over her sleeping body. His skin was undulating as though something crawled beneath it but he didn’t seem to notice. The man considered his next move. He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth that contrasted his filthy, unkempt hair and scraggly beard. He could not allow her to die quickly as her male companion had done. He gazed at her for a moment and then set to work. His instincts told him what to do next.
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The Mendelian Protocol 2
Chapter 2
75 Chapman Avenue
St. Angela’s Medical Clinic
St. Angela’s Island, Bahamas
“Two Keller Employees Feared Lost at Sea”, the headline read, “Search Continues Today.”
It was a special edition of the island’s only newspaper, the St. Angela’s Chronicle.
The article read:
The Armageddon Prophecy Page 19
