by David Beers
The Prophet: Resurrection
David Beers
Contents
Mailing List Invitation
Rachel Veritros
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Rachel Veritros
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Tidus
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Under Water
Chapter 7
Rachel and Nicki
Tidus
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Battle
Epilogue
On Purpose and Other Things
Also by David Beers
Mailing List Invitation
Rachel Veritros
Everyone involved with Rachel Veritros felt her influence on a very, very personal level. Indeed, for the people who fought at the Nile River, most never fully recovered psychologically from the brutality they witnessed and participated in.
Four Ministers fought Rachel Veritros. Three survived; the fourth died in the collapse of the Constant Ministry’s capital.
For The Old World’s Pope, Frances XIV—he only served in his position for two years following the war’s end.
During his last week of service, the Pope’s hands wouldn’t quit shaking. When he picked up a cup of coffee, it rattled all the way to his mouth, and more often than not, spilled down his chin. The burns from such unfortunate accidents were bad, but they weren’t the reason he was ultimately asked to step down.
While the Church’s official reasons for the man’s retirement were dignified, the truth was his mind had snapped. At least that’s what the people nearest to him said.
Such things were only whispered about in the beginning.
“The Pope is not well.”
“He’s not sleeping.”
“He’s raving at night.”
The whispers grew louder though, as more voices joined in the chorus. To be fair, they also grew louder because the Pope’s actions … became more severe.
“SHE’S NOT DEAD!” he finally shouted at a meeting of his Cardinals. “VERITROS ISN’T FUCKING DEAD!”
The Cardinals had all sat in silence, most staring at the long wooden table in front of them. None knew what to say, especially not in front of the red faced Pope.
A week later, he was no longer in power and the search for a new Pope began.
Frances XIV only lived another five years after that, dying at the relatively young age of 72. His mental state had deteriorated further, until he mostly remained secluded in a single room. The people tasked with looking after him said that he conversed with himself quite often, though to them it sounded as if he was speaking with Veritros.
They said the conversations were one sided, as if the Pope wanted the apparition to speak, but she wouldn’t.
Frances XIV’s mental state continued deteriorating until he died alone in his bed. The person that found him said that his eyes were open, as if he’d been staring at the ceiling and not sleeping.
The One Path’s Minister also came to an unsettling end, especially for someone with so much power and wealth. Her name—like all of the One Path’s Ministers—was Trinant One. Her breakdown came 15 years after the war, though she was even younger than the Pope, only 55 years old.
Trinant’s hands didn’t shake, but her aides noticed the woman had begun to stare off into the sky for long hours.
Hours.
She would walk to the edge of her office and then stop, looking outside the Globe of One. Arms at her sides, she would stare out the huge windows until someone interrupted her. A recording showed she did this one morning for five hours before someone finally ventured inside her office. It was an eerie thing to see, watching her stand without moving—a slight sway from time to time—and only watching the clouds pass.
Staring out a window certainly wasn’t enough to remove Trinant One from power, however. No one would even consider such a thing.
Unfortunately for Trinant, that was only the beginning of her problems.
An aide found her naked, standing in the hallway outside of her apartment inside the Globe. The aide had served Trinant for 20 years, yet when she walked up to her Minister, Trinant didn’t recognize her.
“You’re not her,” the Minister said.
“I’m not who, Your Grace?”
“Veritros.”
The aide did her best to get the woman first inside her apartment, then clothed. To her credit, the aide never spoke of what she found, not even after the horrible affair that took place.
Trinant One quit making decisions, though not with any decree. Her time spent staring at the sky simply took up a larger and larger portion of her day, and her mind.
“Your Grace,” one of her inner consortium said. “We’re growing concerned.”
Trinant One didn’t hesitate. “I am as well.”
“What concerns you, Your Grace?”
“I don’t think she ever really left.”
“Who?”
“Veritros,” Trinant responded.
The One Path never had the opportunity to remove their leader from power. Six months into her growing despondency, Trinant One woke up, went to her office, and began staring just as she had done for the past month.
Recordings showed she stared for two hours.
At the end of them, she walked closer to the window, then began banging her head against it. It started out softly, but grew into a steady drumbeat of whack … whack … WHACK. The office’s recording system captured it perfectly.
This continued for another ten minutes.
Then, Trinant abruptly stopped and stepped back from the window. Blood leaked down her head and the window, though neither seemed to notice.
The windows that lined her office were floor to ceiling—ten long panels.
The recording showed Trinant not moving at all as the panel in front of her slowly descended into the floor. Gusts of wind rushed in almost immediately, ruffling her long blonde hair across her face.
Once the window had completely disappeared, Trinant One simply walked forward—and without pausing—committed suicide. She fell for miles before hitting the ocean. Her body was never recovered.
The world recovered after Rachel Veritros, though very slowly. It was an odd feeling for years afterward, both for her followers and enemies. Her apostles fled across the globe, doing their best to hide from the constant manhunt. Even as they ran, or awaited trial (some were afforded this luxury), they couldn’t believe their Prophet was dead. Their very bones felt different, as if some portion of their marrow had been extracted.
Her enemies lived in fear that she wasn’t truly gone. That she would return. Because it made no sense. One moment she had descended into the river, and the next she had simply ceased existing.
What truly scared them was that they understood how close they’d been to losing.
“We were lucky,” those in high positions said.
That truth never wound its way down to the laymen, though. No, each Ministry kept up appearances, putting the glory on their respective gods.
Outside of the two deceased Ministers, no one else spoke her name as the years passed. In the world’s mind, she became one with the Black—evil, and unmentionable.
After a while, even those on high stopped thinking about her. They stopped thinking about the Nile River and the war that took place. Rachel V
eritros passed from the minds of those who fought her.
Those who knew her, and had followed her, eventually died.
Something happened in that river, though, and humanity’s refusal to face it left a massive hole in their knowledge.
Rachel Veritros had descended into it. She had moved close to the Unformed, understanding that the Union was near. And inside that boiling river, she had finally faced the question she’d refused to ask.
What does It want?
The world forever declared her a traitor and a blood-thirsty rebel. She went down in history as one of the most evil human beings to ever draw breath.
However, the truth was that Rachel Veritros sacrificed herself in hope that she might save humanity.
It would take nearly a thousand years for her to finally have the opportunity.
One
Rhett was turned around and looking out the back of the transport. “There’s four!”
“Five!” the woman up front, Brinson, shouted back.
Rhett now saw the fifth ship as well, dropping down from the top left to join the formation.
The five of them were running for their lives; including four former prisoners—one rescued during the middle of his execution. Their ship was quickly picking up speed, but now the True Faith’s fist was closing around them.
Rhett’s hands hurt from strangling Rebecca moments before, but he didn’t look down at them. He kept his eyes on the coming ships. To murder her, he had to first survive this—and killing Rebecca was all he wanted anymore.
She was next to him, turned the same way and staring out the window, but he did his best not to look in her direction.
If we’re not going to make it, I’ll kill her before they get me, he thought.
Unless they blast you from the sky. Then you won’t have a chance.
Rhett tumbled backwards as the transport nose dived. He fell toward the front of the transport, his back crashing hard on a chair.
“STRAP IN!” Brinson shouted.
Rhett struggled to right himself, looking straight up at the SkyLight above. The ships behind were following suit, dropping straight down too. Once his feet were somewhat set, he looked to his right, seeing Christine lying crumpled with her eyes closed. She was still unconscious from the torture the First Priest had forced her to endure. Brinson was right, everyone back here had to strap in, or they’d likely die from a broken neck.
Rhett slowly moved to Christine as the ship barreled further down, sinking to the bottom of the Shrine. He grabbed her limp body and pulled her close.
“TELL US WHEN YOU’RE RIGHTING!” he shouted to the front, wanting his voice to be heard over the air propulsion system.
A laser zoomed past the side of the transport.
“THEY’RE NOT TAKING US IN!” Brinson screamed back.
Rhett looked out the window and saw the five transports.
“WHAT’S THE PLAN?” he yelled, still staring up at the falling ships.
Brinson said nothing in response and Rhett understood there wasn’t one.
A few seconds passed, then, “RIGHTING!”
Rhett braced himself as the ship straightened so that the ceiling now faced the SkyLight. He held onto Christine as it happened, ensuring she didn’t fall again. It took a few seconds, and he nearly fell, but finally he was standing upright. He rushed to a seat, placing Christine down first before sitting next to her. He pressed the buttons underneath both their chairs and immediately felt the AirLock rush across his chest, pressing him into place.
“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” he screamed to the front, unable to see behind anymore.
Brinson was quiet again, which was answer enough. The transports were still coming. Rhett looked across the ship to Rebecca. She was sitting with her back against the wall, able to see the trailing transports from her vantage point.
“Are they gaining?” Rhett asked.
She nodded, her lips thin.
Minutes passed and Rhett remained still, the AirLock wrapping around his chest. No other lasers fired from the ships—they were still too far out to actually hit anyone. The original had only been sent as a message.
Silence, except for the air propulsion system.
Rhett swallowed.
“Closer?”
Rebecca nodded.
“How much?” he asked.
“They’ll make contact in a few minutes,” Rebecca said quietly, continuing to stare straight ahead.
So this was it, how it ended. All of this for Rhett to die watching the woman who had killed his savior.
Rhett’s hand dropped to the button beneath him, the one that would shut down the AirLock. He rubbed his index finger across it, not quite ready.
“CAN WE FIRE ON THEM?” he yelled up front.
“ONLY FORWARD FACING CANNONS!” Brinson called back.
Rhett looked out the front window. They were moving fast, incredibly so, but they’d dropped below all of the hanging buildings to move at such a velocity.
Rhett pressed the button on his seat and the AirLock shut down. He stood and glanced back for a second. The sight sent a chill across his spine. The ships were almost within cannon range—a minute away at most.
Rhett walked to the front of the transport.
“We have to go up,” he said. “Toward the buildings. We have to try and lose them up there.”
Brinson was pale. She might have been a bigwig within the Prevention Division, but she wasn’t used to participating in battle this close up. Her lips didn’t tremble as she spoke, though, and Rhett thought that was something.
“I’ll wreck.”
“You have about 10 seconds to get up there, or we’re going to die.”
He watched her response, knowing that there wasn’t time to disable her and take control of the ship. She either had to listen, or it was over
She gave a curt nod, and then with no warning, pulled the ship up, the nose facing toward the SkyLight. Gravity grabbed hold of Rhett and he started falling immediately. With one hand he reached up, grabbing hold of Reinheld’s chair. He hung on for a second, his feet floating, pointing at Christine.
“There any other fucking chairs in this place?” he asked.
“Here, I’ll move,” Reinheld said, his first words since the transport took off. He hit the AirLock and crouched so that he was looking at the back of the plane, down toward the center of the Earth. Rhett still clung to the seat, his grip loosening by the second. Reinheld reached down and grabbed Rhett’s other arm, then pulled him up into the ship’s front seats. The space was tight, with Reinheld wedged in the middle.
“Don’t hit her when you drop,” Rhett said, sitting down in the seat.
The fall wasn’t far—maybe two people long. Reinheld wasted no time, simply jumped through the opening. Rhett turned and looked; Reinheld landed on his feet and missed Christine.
Rhett turned to the front. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know!” Brinson shouted. The ship was still heading straight up, and they were nearly at the height of regular buildings.
A laser streaked by the right side of the transport.
“They’re going to fucking fire in the city?” Rhett asked.
“There’s not much city left,” Brinson answered, then yelled to the back. “WE’RE STRAIGHTENING!”
That was all the warning she gave, the ship slowing just a bit, and then she whipped it between two buildings. Rhett looked to the left panel that showed the transport’s rear. He saw nothing for perhaps 30 seconds, and then four ships turned in tandem.
A fifth streaked past, still heading up toward the SkyLight.
“Maybe one down,” he said.
“No,” Raylyn said. “They’re just splitting up.”
As if hearing her, two others ripped off course, one rounding a building to the left and the other to the right.
“They’re tracking us now. They don’t need to see us. They’ll triangulate us.”
Buildings flashed by on Rhett’s left and
right.
“There’s no way to lose them?”
Brinson shook her head, her skin paper pale.
Rhett leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He felt the ship turn right, then left, but he didn’t look up. He racked his brain, hoping to find some solution. If he were David, it would have been easy. Simply open the transport’s top and let the gray take care of the pursuers. He wasn’t though; he was a foot soldier in a lost war.
“Why did you do this?” he asked, his hands still on his face. “There’s no damn plan to get us to safety, so why do any of it?”
The ship pulled left, then dropped down, running along the side of a building. It straightened again before Brinson spoke. Her voice was low. “It wasn’t about escape.”
“This is it,” he whispered. “This is the end.”
The ship banked right, then left.
“I can’t even see them anymore,” she said.
Rhett turned and looked behind him to Rebecca. Now, he thought. Kill her now and be done with the whole thing. The True Faith doesn’t get the pleasure of doing it. No fucking way.
He started to turn his body when he first felt it.
A chill at first, radiating out from his chest. He paused, his intention to move to Rebecca and wrap his hands around her throat momentarily forgotten. It wasn’t a normal chill, not like he’d felt when first seeing the pursuing ships. This was different.
It spread quickly, moving across his chest and to the rest of his body--until goosebumps covered his arms.
He found Rebecca’s eyes, and she was finally staring back at him, concern across her face. He looked at her arms and even from this distance, he saw the raised goosebumps on her as well.
And then, beneath the skin, he itched.
