One of the other women broke in. “All I want is a salad.”
“Oh, their salads are unbelievable. Trust me. You’ll love it. And you have to try their bread. They serve it with olive oil and fresh parmesan. It’s absolutely unbelievable.”
I suddenly knew where to go. My mouth was watering with thoughts of rich, cheesy Italian food. When we reached level nine, I followed the young women out of the elevator and onto what appeared to be a cobblestone street, straight out of an old-fashioned Western European village. The air was thick with the aroma of culinary delights. I paused to breathe in deeply before following my oblivious guides down the street.
On either side of the thoroughfare were tables laden with food and surrounded by happy diners. The first eating establishment on my left was a brightly decorated pizza parlor.
Facing it was a Chinese place with an attractive and authentic-looking Buddhist-temple facade. As I strolled down the street, I passed a bakery, a mesquite grill, and an ice cream parlor. All the food looked and smelled delicious.
Eventually, I reached the Italian restaurant. Four packed tables sat beneath a red-and-white-striped awning. Several people nodded a smiled at me as I walked around the tables and stepped through the front door. The interior looked like it had been lifted straight out of an old Dean Martin movie. Large brick ovens were crammed with pizzas.
Mustachioed waiters bustled about in bow ties and garters. The air was thick with the smell of garlic and tomatoes.
I looked around and spotted a small, unoccupied corner table. Naturally, there was a red-and-white-checked tablecloth with a round candle in the middle. I took a seat and picked up a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. The menu was extensive, and everything on it looked wonderful. There were no prices listed. Apparently, the Moon Child was all-inclusive. A waiter appeared and asked what I wanted. I ordered the lasagna, with a garden salad and double garlic bread. He took the order as if I’d said the secret word and scurried off.
I’d just about decided that this was the finest restaurant I’d ever been allowed to eat in, when I noticed that there were no ashtrays. A brief inspection of the room confirmed that no one was smoking. I wondered momentarily if the entire place was no-smoking and shuddered. At least I was about to eat. Once I had something in my stomach, I’d go back to worrying about the situation.
The waiter returned in record-setting time with a large salad. As he set it in front of me, I caught him staring at my wrist. If he’d been looking at my watch, I probably wouldn’t have thought anything about it - my watch was certainly handsome enough to catch someone’s eye. But he was looking at my right wrist. He backed away, a concerned expression on his face, then turned and walked quickly toward the kitchen. Mystified, I glanced at the people at the adjoining table. I hadn’t noticed before, but everyone was wearing a thin metal bracelet on their wrist.
I jumped up and left the restaurant. Out on the street, I turned in the direction I’d come from and strode briskly back toward the elevator. I reached it without incident. No one seemed to be following me. I pressed both the up and down buttons and waited. A moment later, the elevator arrived and opened. There were at least ten people inside. I squeezed in, and the doors shut behind me.
The elevator climbed to level thirteen and stopped. Fate had chosen this level earlier, and I’d ignored it. Now I was in more danger and even hungrier than I’d been before. I wasn’t about to chance it a second time. Luckily, most of the group was getting off here as well, so I went along with the crowd. I figured I could blend in, as long as I kept my right hand in my trouser pocket. We stepped out of the elevator into a foyer like the one I’d seen outside the cargo bay, except that this one had two revolving doors. One was marked Environ 3, the other Environ 4. Most of the people moved toward Environ 3. I walked through the revolving door and stepped into paradise.
I found myself in maybe the last place I would’ve imagined. Several tiny paths were worn into the grassy floor of a forest and meandered off into the shadows. Thick oaks towered overhead, and a robin’s-egg blue sky peeked out from behind leafy branches.
The moist air was filled with the whistling and chirping of birds. The unfamiliar smell of fresh earth, flowering plants, and pure summer rain was intoxicating. To someone accustomed to the city odors of smoke, hot asphalt, and urine, this place was surreal. I half expected to see a merry band of nymphs come dancing out of the shadows and sprinkle pixie dust on my wing tips.
This was the kind of sylvan glade that hadn’t existed since I was too young to remember.
Between the widespread devastation caused by the war and the radioactive fallout, most of the world’s forests had been decimated. Even in places that had survived relatively unscathed, the depleted ozone was working its black magic on the ecosystem. But perhaps most shocking about this bizzare place was the blue sky - something I don’t ever remember seeing. Of course, the sky here had to be artificial, but the effect was overwhelming.
The others who had entered with me went scampering down the paths and disappeared, leaving me alone in awe. I was still ravenously hungry and rattled from the incident at the Italian restaurant, but suddenly finding myself in a beautiful forest had an amazingly calming effect. I wandered down one of the paths, taking in the natural beauty. I wondered what kind of money was required to create something like this. Whoever had designed this place had spared nothing. From the mossy floor to the woodland animals I occasionally spotted in the underbrush, the forest appeared to be absolutely real. It was hard to believe I was actually on a man-made satellite, orbiting 25,000 miles above Earth.
I continued down the path, passing elms and maples. A light breeze drifted through the trees, stirring the leaves and diffusing a flowery fragrance. After several minutes, I began to hear the trickling of water. Following the musical sound, I soon reached a meandering brook. A large rock bordered the stream, and I sat down on it. Up until this moment, my hunger pangs and splitting headache had overshadowed my exhaustion.
When I sat down, I realized how tired I was. I’d left the path and felt relatively safe, so I moved down onto the spongy ground and leaned back against the rock. Closing my eyes, I tried to make sense of the situation I’d gotten myself into.
What the hell was I going to do? I certainly wasn’t equipped to stop the cult on my own, lacking both knowledge and weapons. The only thread of hope was the possibility of finding the CAPRICORN mole, if he had made it on board without being discovered, that is. But there were literally thousands of people on the Moon Child, maybe tens of thousands. Locating the mole would make winning the lottery seem easy.
Maybe I just had to admit I was beaten. I’d never found myself up against such overwhelming odds - except, of course, when I’d tried out for the Giants during the strike of ‘27. Maybe I should just cut my losses. This was a beautiful place, more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen. Sure, the cult was planning on perpetrating a diabolical act against humanity, but what could I do about it? Wasn’t it Ben Franklin who’d said, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?” I took a deep breath of pristine air and actually considered the option.
Who was I kidding? I’d never cut my losses in my life. Any successes I’d enjoyed had happened despite myself. I’d lost more money, prestige, and social advancement than anyone I knew, all because I wasn’t the type to play along. Kissing up and compromising my principles, as warped as they might be, just wasn’t something I could do and still maintain any sense of self-respect. I knew, at least vaguely, what the cult wanted to do, and I couldn’t possibly rationalize it. Maybe they’d let me join them and spend my life here in this orbiting Garden of Eden, wanting for nothing. But I’d never be able to overcome the feeling that I’d been an accessory, albeit unwilling, to the greatest mass murder in history.
I racked my brains for a long time, trying to come up with a clever plan to find the CAPRICORN mole, but it was hopeless. At least I would try to go out in a blaze of glory. If I could find out who was behind this wh
ole thing and take him out, I might be able to make at least a small dent in their plans. For the time being, I needed sleep.
Trying to block out the thoughts racing through my brain, I eventually nodded off.
I woke up to a light rain shower. The sky overhead was still robin’s-egg blue, but some kind of sprinkler system was simulating a misty precipitation. My fedora and overcoat were damp, but not soaked. The shower must’ve just started. I stood up and slowly worked a painful knot out of my lower back. Checking my watch, I saw that I’d been asleep almost six hours. The aching in my head had subsided, and now I was just hungry. I brushed dirt off the seat of my pants and found my way back to the path.
I reached the revolving door and moved through it. The foyer was filled with people, all waiting for the elevator. There was an excited buzz, and everyone seemed to be talking about the Reverend Sheppard. From what I could surmise, everyone was heading to a massive gathering.
I waited in the crowd for a half hour as the elevator carried load after load of jubilant Crusaders away. Eventually, my turn came, and I climbed onto the elevator. We went up and up, all the way to the top, level thirty-six.
When the doors parted, I saw a huge open area, almost completely filled with people.
Stepping out, I surveyed the room. It reminded me a little of old photos of the Hollywood Bowl, before it had been destroyed in the war, except that this place was much larger. It was circular, opening and vomiting out more groups of the faithful. The diameter of the room was at least two hundred yards, and a massive, transparent dome spanned the rook two hundred feet over our heads, revealing a panoramic view of eternity.
On the far side of the room, across the great expanse, I saw a large, empty stage. An enormous and ornate podium stood at the front of the stage, and a long row of throne-like chairs ran along the back. Mounted above the thrones was what appeared to be a gigantic screen, at least three times the size of the largest movie screen I’d ever seen.
Above the din, the strains of “Ode To Joy” were echoing throughout the vast auditorium.
How ironic. I couldn’t help but think that something from Wagner would’ve been more appropriate.
I couldn’t begin to estimate how many people comprised the teeming throng. Endless streams of Crusaders were pouring from the elevators, and the room was filling rapidly with a rolling sea of heads. I’d never seen such an ethnically diverse assemblage - every shade of human coloring was well-represented. With the almost tangible anticipation and excitement running through the crowd, the scene was what I would envision if the United Nations hosted a Sadie Hawkins dance.
I stood against the wall by the elevator, feeling increasingly claustro[hobic and desperately needing a cigarette. I decided against the indulging, certain that it would only draw unwanted attention. The stream coming from the elevators had now dwindled to a trickle, and the hum of the crowd was reaching a fevered pitch. Suddenly, the lights went down, leaving only the stage lit.
The multitude hushed as a small procession appeared stage left in single file. With great pomp and circumstance, the leaders of the cult took their places on the thrones. When all the seats were filled, a single man strode across the stage to the podium. On cue, a spotlight went on, and the man’s face appeared on the screen above the stage. It was the Reverend Claude Sheppard.
The masses burst into mighty applause. When I noticed several people staring at me and my lack of enthusiasm, I was forced to join in. The Reverend Sheppard smiled, obviously soaking up the adoration and reveling in the moment. Then, with a graceful gesture of mock humility, he lowered his eyes and raised his hand for silence. The applause slowly dissipated.
The Reverend spread his arms wide and smiled down benevolently.
“Brothers…sisters…my children. At this moment, we stand on the threshold of a new era!
A great and glorious era! Today, we come into our inheritance!”
The crowd weht crazy. After letting the mob vent its jubilation, the Reverend again raised his hand. “Every man, woman, and child here today has been specially chosen to fulfill a vast and wonderful destiny. You shall be the first generation of the Earth’s golden age.”
A loud cheer went up from the masses, but I also detected some incomprehension among the faithful. The Reverend Sheppard continued.
“You have all reached the pinnacle of ascendancy in the Crusade for Genetic Purity. But today you will learn that you are an intergal part of something much more. You see, my children, our beliefs and practices are ancient. The events happening now were prophesied long ago, thousands of years before we were born.”
The crowd was silent, seemingly trying to comprehend what it was hearing.
“Our order originated deep in the mists of unrecorded time. These forefathers foresaw a day when the Earth would be reborn, and only the pure would survive. Throughout the generations, worthy men and women continued the process of preparation, passing on the knowledge and prophecies of the founders. All their work went into preparing for an event that will begin only hours from now. At midnight will come the purification!”
The people cheered, but most of them didn’t seem to know what they were celebrating.
“We have known for many years that the Earth would be reborn on this very date. As one prophet described it, ‘A great storm will appear from the Western sky and overwhelm the impure.’ This purification will cleanse the Earth of the inferior masses that threaten the integrity of humanity.”
Sheppard gestured all around. “This magnificent Moon Child is also a fulfillment of prophecy. It was foretold that this would be the haven of the faithful, where those who were destined to claim the purified world would be sheltered from the storm of purification and wait for the process to be completed. For forty years, we will stay here and prepare for the day when we can return to a purified Earth!”
For the first time since the speech began, I heard confused voices among the listeners.
Apparently, many of the Crusaders hadn’t known they were signing on for a forty-year tour of duty. As the Reverend Sheppard waited for the crowd to quiet down, I decided what I needed to do. I began making my way toward the stage. Sheppard resumed his sermon.
“Very soon, the planet below us will be engulfed in an initiation of fire. There will be no survivors. We will be the last and best remnant of humanity. Each of you carries an important responsibility. You and your children will recolonize the Earth, and we will create a civilization of enlightenment and purity, the likes of which has never existed.
Our lives will be rich and full and unencumbered by the rot and decay that now infests the planet. Lift up your hearts and rejoice!”
The response was strong, but still uncertain. It was a reaction that I hoped might be exploited. I was halfway to the stage when I glanced up at the screen and saw a change come over Sheppard’s face.
“There is another matter that must be addressed at this time. We are bound together here by our common beliefs and goals. It is paramount that we maintain our unity of purpose.
But I say to you, there is a traitor among us!”
I froze in my tracks. They were onto me. I looked around furtively, but everyone around me had their eyes riveted on the Reverend. I looked back up toward the stage and saw three silhouetted figures approaching the podium. As they stepped into the light, I saw a familiar figure, handcuffed with a security guard on either side. It was Karl Voorman.
Sheppard pointed a finger at him. “This man is an unbeliever! He would undo all that we have sought to accomplish! He came to us under false pretenses, and we opened our arms and hearts to him. Now we have learned that he intended to destroy us!”
I continued toward the stage as an angry murmur rippled through the assemblage. Had Voorman been the CAPRICORN mole? If so, why had he allowed Ching and her men to be murdered? Maybe he didn’t know why Ching wanted passage to the moon…and she’d insisted that there be no questions asked. The most reaonsable explanation for his actions was that he co
uldn’t risk blowing his cover, not even to people who might possibly be on his side. Maybe Ching hadn’t explained why we wanted passage to the lunar penal colony. Or, possibly, Voorman wasn’t in a position to reveal himself. I thought back to when I’d been discovered on Voorman’s shuttle. He’d kept me from being killed. And he tied me loosely enough so I could escape. Had he done that intentionally? A hollow feeling in my stomach told me I’d blown the last chance to stop these madmen.
The Reverend Sheppard had now worked himself into a ranting, gesturing frenzy. “This man is an impurity to the body! There is no place for dissension! If we are to succeed, we must be absolutely united! One mind! One heart! One purpose!”
He seemed to have regained control of the masses, who cheered and applauded wildly. It was like attending a Nazi rally. I was getting close to the stage as the security guards led Voorman away. There was nothing I could do to save Voorman, but I still held onto one desperate hope, I’d only have a few seconds.
Sheppard turned and left the podium, and the crowd began a deafening roar. I reached the front of the stage and pulled myself up off the floor. No one reacted initially as I ran for the podium. Grabbing the microphone, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “These men are murderers! The purification is a lie! Everyone on Earth will be slaughtered!”
Several hands grabbed me and pulled me back.
“Only you can stop them!” I was wrestled to the floor. After being punched and kicked a dozen times, I was lifted roughly from the floor and hustled off the stage and down a set of stairs. I was dragged through a door and into a hallway. A voice cried out to take me to the holding room. Moments later, we reached a door, which one of the men opened. I was hauled inside and thrown into a large seat that vaguely resembled an electric chair.
Restraints were locked over my wrists and ankles. Another went around my forehead.
Most of the men left the room, leaving two security guards to glare at me. One was a slightly built, completely bald man I didn’t recognize. He looked like Mr. Clean, without the earring. The second was a breath-takingly beautiful blond woman. The third person I knew. It was maybe the last person in the world I’d expected to see. Lowell Percival.
Aaron Conners - Tex Murphy 02 Page 21
