The Prophet: Resurrection: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  No, some part of her said. No, that voice was real. Maybe that other world was a fake, but the ferocity you felt in that other voice … that was real.

  What the fuck does any of it matter? another part asked. Your goddamn father’s dead—what does it matter what you saw or felt? You killed him—

  The thoughts scattered, because Nicki thought she heard something to her left. The sound of footsteps echoing through the hall. She turned, looking down the adjoining hallway, but saw only where it ended into another.

  Someone was here, though. Those were footsteps she heard, and coming closer.

  Nicki didn’t move; where could she go? To other worlds that she didn’t understand, and most likely only existed in her head? Who was coming for her now?

  I wished they had faith, Nicki. The same faith you refuse now, and the thing I’ve come to accept in this place. Faith that something is bigger than us, and that it’s guiding us. Guiding everything.

  The voice from the strange woman came back to her, as if in answer to her question. Saying, it doesn’t matter who is coming, because everything serves a greater purpose.

  Nicki rejected the thought, though she didn’t look inside herself for that gray well. She might not believe what the woman said, but that didn’t mean she had to use whatever was inside her. There was no greater hand moving pieces around, but she didn’t have to wreck the pieces herself.

  Two people turned the corner and halted, staring down the hallway at her. Two women that Nicki had never seen before.

  Both looked … strained, as if something was pulling their insides, stretching them past the point of uncomfortableness and into the territory of pain. As if they might completely rip apart.

  “It’s you,” the woman on Nicki’s left said. “It’s actually you.”

  Nicki didn’t move, seeing the same look in these two women that she had others for the past month. They wanted her. Wanted something from her. Wanted to use her.

  “I’m Rebecca,” the woman on the left said. “I’m … We’re not here to hurt you.”

  Nicki remained silent, though she looked to her left. Only the box remained there, with nowhere else for her to run.

  Because whatever is happening on Earth, whatever is happening with the Black, none of it really matters in the end. Even the Black is going to wind up facing the creature that put you and me here.

  Again, the woman’s words came to her. It was almost as if Nicki still sat in front of her, whole sentences flowing out into Nicki’s mind.

  No, Nicki thought. None of that is true, and if for a second your mind wants to entertain those thoughts, just look down that hallway again and see the box sitting there. Because these two in front of you—and if not them, then someone else—would probably love to throw you back in that box. Love to force you back in front of the Black.

  “What do you want?” Nicki said, her voice cracking as she did. She hated the sound of it, but she couldn’t help it.

  She was tired. So damned tired, and no matter where she went or what happened, there was always more in front of her. There was no rest from this life.

  “I just want to talk to you,” the woman named Rebecca said. “That’s all.”

  Nicki laughed, tears filling her eyes. “No one only wants to talk to me.”

  David was dreaming and he knew it.

  He was a child again, back in the last house his parents ever lived in.

  The booming voice outside told everyone to surrender, and then he heard his mother shouting. Everyone was screaming, running back and forth. David was frantically looking for Rebecca, knowing what the two of them had to do. They had to get to their room and pack, though they were only supposed to get a few things. They’d been over this again and again, just in case men showed up for them.

  Like right now.

  He couldn’t find Rebecca, though. He was running around the house, his mother shouting to his father, but the only thing on his mind was finding his sister.

  He had to get her. They had to pack.

  But she wasn’t here, yet David knew she should be.

  He turned the corner to the back hallway, thinking she might already be in their room. He nearly ran into his mother, his head only coming up to her stomach. She was standing still, unmoving, and David looked up.

  She stared back down at him. Her face was full of disappointment, and when she spoke, all the rest of the noise in the house died. Only her words filled his ears.

  “You lost her, David. You lost your sister.”

  Tears sprang to his eyes, even though he knew this wasn’t real—understanding that if he could somehow just wake up, all of it would disappear.

  He couldn’t, though. He could only stare up at his mother, having no answer to her accusation. Because he had lost Rebecca and he couldn’t find her. Not in this place, nor any other.

  And then his mother’s face imploded. A bullet pierced through her forehead, the bone collapsing and caving in, looking like an internal force was sucking it from the inside.

  The bullet broke through the back of her head, sending a grotesque mix of blood, brains and bone spraying out behind her.

  She kept staring down at him, the upper half of her head a destroyed wreck, but her eyes never releasing their judgment.

  His mother collapsed in a heap, every muscle in her body giving out at once.

  David’s eyes flashed open and his body jerked up from his seat. He held himself stiff, staring out the front window with strained eyes, his heart thudding in his chest.

  How long had it been since he dreamed of his mother? How many damned years?

  How many years had it been since you even thought of her, David? Before the last couple of months? Because the truth is, before all of this, you never thought of her.

  Slowly, David’s muscles started relaxing, and he leaned back in his chair.

  His breathing was still harsh, but he forced his fingers to stop clenching the armrests. He let his head rest against the back of his seat and closed his eyes again, though sleep was a long, long way off. His heart still thumped hard, and in the blackness of his mind, he saw his mother’s eyes. Judging him. Heard her voice telling him that he’d lost his sister.

  It was the dream that caused him to miss the girl at first. Because he should have seen her the moment he woke up … but he didn’t. It was hard to believe, because the woman’s presence was massive in the way mountains are. His mental eye could see her from anywhere, without having to focus at all.

  Yet, in those few minutes after waking, it was only his mother he saw.

  Finally though, her judging eyes and bloody face faded, and David was left with reality.

  “No …,” he whispered, not knowing nor caring if those in the back heard him. They weren’t even afterthoughts.

  David felt her, like some large boulder thrust into his mind, blocking the natural flow of his thoughts. Before he slept, he could have only found her if he searched, and hard. The girl had gone somewhere else, but …

  She was back.

  Here, on Earth.

  David’s eyes remained closed, and without even searching, he knew where she was. In the One Path again. She didn’t need to activate the gray for him to see her now. The static was with her all the time, a power that could spread across the entire world or remain inside of her, but either way, he saw it.

  David forced her from his mind, needing to understand the status of everything else he had in motion. The power still flowed through him to his followers, the broken ones flooding up through the Globe. They were close, but they hadn’t killed the Ministers yet.

  He was losing control. He felt it, his power over them waning. The Summoning would continue, those that followed him still pillaging the world, but it was those inside the Globe that mattered the most. Keeping the Ministries occupied—the Ministers fearing for their lives—was what he needed. There was time yet. His power was only slipping, not dying completely.

  David let the connection drop, remaining st
ill in his chair, trying to regain some composure.

  The banks of the Nile River would be empty, which was the way he wanted it. In Veritros’s time, war had raged when she went to the Union, but David would have silence. Peace. If the Ministries suspected he was still alive, they wouldn’t be able to get there in time. Not anymore.

  But she can, David. She can go anywhere you can.

  He heard the Unformed again, what It had said when first showing David the girl: KILL HER.

  But he hadn’t, he’d failed, and now …

  No. She won’t come for you. Perhaps she has power, but you saw her. She’s frightened with no clue what to do. Get to the Nile and finish this.

  David turned around and looked into the back of the transport. The four slept. David checked the flight path. Only five hours away.

  We’re going to make it, he thought. She doesn’t even have time to get there if she wanted, not from the One Path. Whatever brought her back, she’s too late.

  David said nothing to those riding behind him. There was no reason to worry them. He would go with his lieutenants, just as Veritros had; they would not fail this time.

  The Unformed would finally crossover.

  Fourteen

  “They’re breaching the detainment center.”

  Yule was staring at the wall when General Spyden spoke, having not even heard her enter the room.

  Daniel was with him in Trinant’s office now, though he sat at the opposite end of the large room, having nothing to do with anyone.

  He’d gone for Daniel a short while ago, saying, “They’ll be here shortly.”

  “Okay,” Daniel had replied.

  “You’ll be safer if you’re with us.”

  The broken father had gazed at him for a second, but instead of arguing, he’d asked a simple question. “Where is Jackson Carriage?”

  “He’s being held in ….” The Pope had trailed off for a second, thinking of the words to describe where Carriage had been placed. “The One Path’s prison, I guess.”

  Daniel didn’t move, only said, “I want him to come with us. I want him in that room with you and me. I’m the reason he left the Vatican and went for Nicki. He shouldn’t be punished for that act. If you want to punish him for the rest, then do it when we get back, but if you want me in that room with you, then he’ll have to be there, too.”

  The Pope didn’t think long on the request. He’d agreed, having Jackson Carriage removed from that liquid room, and now the three of them were in Trinant’s office.

  They’re breaching the detainment center, the general had said.

  Yule looked over at Carriage, wearing fresh clothes and sitting alone in a chair against the wall. He was a dreadfully thin man; he showed no emotion at all, not even as he heard that the attackers were reaching the place he’d been hours earlier.

  He simply stared out the window on the far right, a small section not displaying the Globe’s internal world, but rather showing the sky.

  Yule turned to Spyden as she continued speaking. “The High Priest is in there, Your Grace.”

  Trinant nodded without looking at anyone else. “As fitting as anything, I suppose. Let the people he wanted to control take hold of him. That means they’re how far away from us?”

  “Fifty floors, Your Grace.”

  “And has any part of my military come up with a single plan to stop this?” The words flowed from Trinant’s lips, dripping with accusation.

  The general seemed not to notice.

  “We have a few options, Your Grace, but conditions on the ground might be changing our strategy. It’s the reason for the delay.”

  “What conditions?” Trinant asked.

  “Their madness seems to be growing,” Spyden said. “Before, they were focused on moving up, on attacking us, but they’re losing focus. They’re attacking each other now.”

  “Why haven’t we seen it on the displays?” Yule asked. “What we see is them still moving up, defeating your codes and locks.”

  “There are a lot of places to look,” the general said, turning slightly to Yule. “You cannot possibly see them all, nor even a fraction. They are still moving up, but … Here, look.”

  The middle window pane changed, no longer showing a random hallway, but a white room with black, golden liquid inside it.

  Dear God, Yule thought, his eyes immediately finding the High Priest. He was naked, and hanging suspended in the liquid.

  “Focus on the outside of the room,” the general said. “You see them? There’s at least 200.”

  Yule’s eyes narrowed as the mass of people came into focus. The general was right; a large group of the attackers stood just outside the white room, in the hallway, all staring forward as a few up front entered. Their hands were at their sides, their strands hanging off and draping onto the floor.

  “Wait, look at that. Some … Some don’t have the static dripping from them,” Benten said.

  “That’s another reason for the delay, Your Grace. The vast majority still carry those … weapons, but some are losing them, and they don’t even seem to notice. The pace has slowed for all of them, but the ones lacking the strands have begun attacking the others.”

  “Goodness!” Daniel shouted from across the room.

  Yule was watching the same scene unfold.

  A man in the back, one whose hands had returned to normal, was standing and staring forward like the rest—as if waiting in line to enter the room ahead.

  He had looked to his right at the woman next to him, stared for about three seconds, and then with both hands grabbed her jaw. With one hand gripping her upper teeth, and the other yanking at the lower portion, he slammed her to the ground.

  The woman’s strands slapped at his face and neck, creating bloody lashes across his flesh. Smoke rose from his face, but still he kept pulling at her face, and as Yule stared on, he finally ripped her lower jaw from the top.

  The woman’s hands fell to her sides and her eyes stared wildly up into the air, not seeing anything. Her face was distended, looking impossibly long. The man stared down at her as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  “Jesus,” Daniel whispered.

  “It’s happening like that all over, Your Grace. Not in massive numbers, but something is changing with them.”

  “What about outside of here? In the rest of our territory?”

  “There is no change,” the general said. “We are still losing massive amounts of ground, and quickly.”

  “So only the ones in here are changing? We’re losing the rest of the war?”

  “I’ll have our options momentarily” the general said, then stepped from the room.

  Daniel stood and walked across the room, standing in front of the giant windows. Yule went to him. They both looked at the pane showing the dead woman. Her jaw hung loosely in its flesh. The man that had pulled her apart had stood and went back to staring with the rest of the group; no one else noticed the dead woman lying by their feet.

  “It’s to our benefit that they rip each other apart,” Daniel whispered.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  The two stood in silence for a minute, Yule having no words, and Daniel silent as well.

  “Your Holiness.”

  The words came from behind Yule, a whisper that he wasn’t sure anyone other than he and Daniel could hear. The Pope turned around and saw Carriage standing behind him. His eyes were cast to the floor, his face looking nearly skeletal.

  He hasn’t eaten, the Pope thought. And a man that thin can’t go without food.

  “I would like to speak to the two of you, if it is possible,” Carriage said.

  The Pope didn’t look to Daniel, but thought about whether he wanted to grant this man an audience. Regardless what Daniel thought of him, he was a lost soul … Yet, he’d been directed by other lost souls. The Church had been eliminating those with the sight for years, and this man had done what he was told. What was commanded of him.

  “Speak,” Yu
le said, the voice of a ruler taking over. He was not among equals here, nor with someone he cared for.

  Carriage looked up and across the room, his eyes falling on the general entering the room. She was heading to Trinant’s desk. Benten stood and walked over as well. Trinant didn’t look in their direction as the general began speaking.

  Carriage turned to Daniel. “Your daughter is alive.”

  Daniel’s breath caught in his throat, his chest stopping its outward movement.

  “I felt her a few moments ago. She’s here, in the One Path,” Carriage said.

  Yule’s eyes found Daniel’s, and the man looked terrified. For the past two days, a calm acceptance had overtaken him, but now his lips were trembling.

  “You’re sure?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes. She’s grown too powerful. I can feel her without even trying. She’s like a pulse inside my head, like a heartbeat.”

  Carriage glanced at the Pope and then averted his eyes, staring at the floor.

  This lost soul reveres you. He may have done evil, but he would lick your shoes if you told him to. What does that say about your Church? Perhaps Daniel can tell you later, if you dare to ask him.

  Daniel walked away from the group, going to a bench against the wall. He sat down on it and put his head in his hands. Yule looked at Carriage once more and then followed Daniel, the thin man following silently.

  “Is she safe?” Daniel asked as the two approached.

  “I can’t tell,” Carriage said.

  “Everyone that wanted to hurt her is gone, Daniel,” Yule answered. “Right now, the High Priest is being destroyed by the invaders downstairs, and the First Priest is already dead. There’s no one else after her, not right now.”

  “Can you contact her?” Daniel asked, looking up, his eyes red and full of tears. “Can you reach her?”

  Carriage stared at him for a long time, and Yule began to understand the conversation he was overhearing. Jackson Carriage had the sight too, and Daniel knew it. That’s why Daniel had recruited him, because the man could find his daughter when no one else could.