The Null Prophecy

by Michael Guillen

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do my best.” The clerk looked down at her computer screen and worked the keyboard. A moment later she said, “We have you staying for a week, is that right?”

  Lorena snorted. “It’s not up to you or me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind, I’m sure you wouldn’t understand. That’s fine. Just check me in, please. I’m very tired; I’ve been travelling all night.”

  “Yes, ma’am, of course. Let me see what we have available.” The clerk looked down and studied the screen for what seemed like an eternity. Then she looked up. “I’m sorry, Ms. O’Malley, all our rooms with a view of the Eastern Gate are occupied. But you know, there is some debate about which gate Jesus actually went through. I hear some scholars believe—”

  Lorena, feeling something deep within her snap, held up her hand. “Please stop! I don’t want to hear it.”

  “What is the trouble here?”

  She wheeled. It was the military man.

  “Fornicator! Fornicator!” she yelled. “Get away from me!”

  A long, blurry moment later, as she was being dragged away, she told herself the prophets of old had been similarly mistreated. Emboldened by that fact, she recited Paul’s prophetic words all the way out of the hotel:

  I will show wonders in heaven above

  And signs in the earth beneath:

  Blood and fire and vapor of smoke.

  The sun shall be turned into darkness,

  And the moon into blood,

  Before the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord.

  THURSDAY, APRIL 27 (5:35 P.M. ISRAEL DAYLIGHT TIME)

  HADASSAH UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER ER; JERUSALEM, ISRAEL

  Lorena woke up in a daze, her head full of cotton. She gave the room a quick once-over.

  Where am I?

  It certainly wasn’t the hotel. It looked like a—

  Frantically, she turned to her left and then to her right and found the buzzer. A few moments later a nurse arrived, all smiles and officiousness.

  “Where am I?” Lorena shouted. “What are you doing to me? I’m an American citizen, you can’t do this to me!”

  “Please, Mrs. O’Malley, we’re only here to help.”

  “I said, where am I? You can’t keep me prisoner.”

  “Please, Mrs. O’Malley, no one’s keeping you prisoner. An ambulance brought you here from the King David Hotel. You passed out; we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “But where am I? What is this place?”

  “It’s an emergency room, one of the finest in all of Jerusalem. We’re affiliated with the Hadassah University Medical Center.”

  “I don’t need a hospital. I need people to leave me alone. I need to rest, that’s all.”

  “Yes. Well, you can speak with the doctor; I know he wants to order some tests. We’ve just been waiting for you to wake up.”

  “I don’t need any tests! I know my rights. I want to get out of here. You can’t stop me!”

  “No, we can’t. But it wouldn’t be wise to check out before being evaluated. Passing out can be a symptom of something serious. Don’t you want to find out?”

  Lorena would have none of it.

  “Well at least stay for dinner then,” the nurse said. “The food here is excellent and they’re just about to serve it. Then you can talk with the doctor. How does that sound?”

  She stopped.

  She was tired.

  And hungry.

  Lorena leaned back on the pillows. “Okay. But I’m not staying. So get the paperwork ready for me to sign out. I don’t need to talk to any doctor.”

  The nurse, visibly frustrated, turned on her heel and stormed out. A short while later an orderly carried in her dinner and set it down on the bed table: steak and latkes.

  She inhaled the meal then left the bed and walked to the window. The hospital was situated atop a large hill; the view from her room was spectacular.

  She gazed out at the lighted monuments, her eyes roaming the scenery. She caught sight of the so-called Garden Tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, located in the near distance below. Some claimed Jesus was buried there but she considered it a blasphemy.

  Tourist trap.

  She closed her eyes. She imagined Dallan entering the room right then, exploding with joy at the sight of her—like when they first. . .

  “Oh, my love!” she’d say, drinking in his strong, handsome face and smiling eyes. “You came! I knew you would! Come here, look!” She imagined pointing out the window. “You see those two gray domes way in the distance? The ones all lit up? Past the big gold dome. Do you see?”

  He’d take her hand ever so gently, ever so tenderly. “Yes, baby, I do. I see them.”

  “Good, because that’s where we’re going.”

  “When?”

  “Soon, mi amor, soon.”

  Staring out at the city lights below, mesmerized by their beauty, she began quietly reciting the prophetic scripture she’d committed to memory:

  And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.

  And His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem on the east, and the Mount of Olives shall cleave in the midst thereof toward the east and toward the west, and there shall be a very great valley; and half of the mountain shall remove toward the north, and half of it toward the south.

  “Ahem.”

  The small noise made her jump. Her gaze jerked toward the door and landed on a slender, fair-skinned man in a white coat. He was smiling.

  “Mrs. O’Malley? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Dr. Silverstein. I understand you want to check out before letting us run some tests?”

  She squared herself in his direction. “Yes, that’s right. I’m just tired, that’s all. It was a long trip from America and they were taking forever at the hotel—that’s why I fainted. I’m feeling much better now that I’ve slept some and eaten.”

  He frowned. “Well, we can’t detain you against your will. But if you insist, you’ll need to sign a paper that says you’re checking out against medical advice. The hospital can’t be held responsible in case something happens to you.”

  She remained stone-faced. “Fine, I understand.”

  “And I will need to ask you some questions as well, before we can let you go. It’s standard protocol.”

  CHAPTER 18

  UNMASKED

  THURSDAY, APRIL 27 (9:35 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME)

  SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

  From the back of the black stretch SUV Jared nervously chewed his lower lip, watching the sleek white and blue HondaJet touch down with a squeal of rubber and puff of smoke.

  Can’t wait to see her reaction.

  After the plane rolled to a stop opposite the SUV, its front cabin door pivoted downward, becoming a staircase. A moment later Maggie appeared at the opening. As she walked down the steps, he scrutinized her face.

  She’s not happy.

  He scrambled out of the car. “Maggie, baby!”

  “Jared, this better be good or so help me . . .”

  She hurried past him and dove into the back seat. Jared climbed in after her and the driver shut the door. “Maggie, c’mon. This is important.” He leaned in to kiss her but was rebuffed.

  The limo began moving.

  “Where are we going? Why’d you bring me all the way down here?”

  He hesitated before answering. He was already in San Diego on important business and decided it would be the perfect place for the very private conversation he needed to have with her.

  But there was also another reason.

  “I thought a change of scenery would help relax you, that’s all.” He spoke as tenderly as he could. “I know the past three weeks since I became CEO have been pretty intense for you.”

  Maggie stared daggers at h
im. “Jared, you have no idea what a can of worms your charity scheme has opened with your family and shareholders. Tomorrow you’ve been ordered to appear in court to—”

  He sat back. “Psh! To what? Explain myself to some puppet judge? Forget it. It ain’t gonna happen.”

  “What are you talking about, forget it? They’ll arrest you for contempt of court. They’ll—”

  Jared reached out to calm her, but she drew back and scowled.

  He sat back again. “Okay, I get that you’re upset. But when you hear what I have to tell you, it’ll change everything. You’ll see.”

  The two rode in edgy silence as the limo travelled south on Cabrillo Memorial Drive toward Point Loma. Eventually, they reached the VA’s vast and picturesque Fort Rosecrans Cemetery. For as far as he could see, on both sides of the road, white marble gravestones stood shoulder to shoulder in neat ranks and files like soldiers permanently at attention. It crossed his mind that many innocent people would probably have to die in order for there to be a new world order.

  Phase transitions.

  There’s no other way.

  Years ago on the Web he learned meaningful change rarely happened gradually. It first required complete destruction of the old order—like with ice. To change it into a liquid, you needed to blast the ice with heat, to destroy its rigid crystal structure.

  He decided back then that in order to replace the current rigged economy—where the grasping one percent lorded over the ninety-nine percent—he needed to destroy it. Utterly destroy it.

  In his mind it was also like Stanford’s marching band. After arranging themselves in an orderly formation on the football field, they always broke ranks and went completely bonkers—ran around like maniacs—before settling into a different orderly formation.

  The limo pulled up to the quaint-looking Old Point Loma Lighthouse.

  Maggie growled. “What in the world?”

  “Please, Maggie. Trust me.”

  Grudgingly, she followed him to a nearby dirt trail. Along the way they had an elevated view of Coronado across the inlet to the east.

  “Look at that view!” he said, hoping to break the ice.

  “Yeah, great,” she said, hardly looking. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  The trail led them toward the Pacific Ocean side of the point, to the apron of a large tidal pool. The surf pounding the coastline’s massive, sharp-edged rocks was deafening. To the north were towering sandstone cliffs that plunged straight down to a giant boulder field and the churning sea.

  Nervously, he searched around for signs of other people and saw none, just as he’d expected. He looked up. The sapphire sky was flawless—like the complexion of a child. The air was warm and still.

  He gestured for Maggie to sit down on a large rock but she refused, though her body language had softened noticeably.

  She looked around. “I have to say, this is really beautiful.”

  He cleared his throat. “Maggie, you know how much I love you, right?” His mouth was suddenly dry. “And one day . . .”

  The quick, amorous look on her face hit him like a wet-handed slap.

  Oh hell—she’s expecting me to propose!

  Maggie smiled and made a gentle move in his direction. She took hold of him and guided him onto the ground, all the while eyeing him lovingly. “Yes, go ahead. One day . . .”

  “Okay,” he said anxiously, “well let’s start with the obvious, which is that my old man was a greedy bastard.”

  Maggie’s face fell. “What?!”

  “Hold on, hold on, please listen.”

  She let go of him and sat back.

  “I remember my mother always saying, ‘Your father is counting on you to take over one day, Jared.’” He mimicked his mother by wagging his finger in a theatrical way. “‘You’re the future of NeuroNet.’”

  “Jared, why are you dredging this up ag—”

  He stilled her with his hand. “Please, Maggie, hear me out. It’s important you understand what I’m about to tell you.”

  She gave him a wary look. “Go ahead.”

  “Fat cats like my parents care more about profits than people, even more than their own families. Their greed has ruined the world. A long time ago most people made a living off the land or with their hands and had relatively equal chances of making an honest living. But now, forget it. Some hard-working farmer in Cambodia earns about a thousand dollars a year and dies when he’s fifty-seven years old; while some self-absorbed wonk in Silicon Valley earns more than one hundred times that and lives nearly eighty years. How’s that fair?”

  “Jared—”

  “You promised you’d let me finish.”

  Maggie shook her head and pursed her lips.

  “Today, nearly half of the world’s wealth belongs to the top ten percent of the population.” He paused for emphasis. “But I have a plan to change that.”

  She folded her arms. “Yes, oh yes, how I know it well—the charities.”

  “No, not just that. There’s more. That’s why I asked you to come here, so I could tell you.”

  She stared at him suspiciously.

  “My plan will create a level playing field again, equalize things between the haves and have-nots.” He studied her for a reaction. “What do you think of that?”

  “You really want to know?” She unfolded her arms. “I think you’re a spoiled rich megalomaniac with too much time on his hands. Really, Jared, what you’re talking about is impossible.” Her voice was rising. “Communists have tried it for years and they’ve only made things worse. No one can—”

  “Oh, yeah? Well hear me out. I’ve been working with a bunch of activists who plan to protest at the G-20 summit this weekend here in San Diego. I’ve been giving them money and coaching them. They’re my secret army.”

  “They’re your what?! What are you—?”

  “Listen. I’ve convinced them to band together to create one monster demonstration, the biggest in history. The cops have no clue what’s about to hit them.”

  “Jared, that’s—”

  “No, wait, that’s not all. I—”

  She sprang to her feet. “No, Jared, that is all—I’ve heard enough. You’re now the CEO of one of the most powerful companies on the planet and all you want to do is throw it all away. Throw us away—and for what? For some twisted revenge plot against your father?! Well, I’m done. I’m outta here.”

  Jared leaped to his feet. “No, hold on, you can’t go!” He could hardly find his voice he was so angry. “You think this is just about sticking it to my father? No, Maggie, it’s not! It’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. All those years in exile together—I thought you’d be proud of me. You, of all people. You know how deeply I feel about injustice and greed.”

  “God, Jared, yeah! But this! I’m against injustice but what you’re doing and how you’re doing it—who died and made you God?” She paused, as if searching for the right words, then roared, “Jared, you can’t do this! It’ll ruin everything!”

  She rushed back to the trail.

  Jared ran after her and easily caught up. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. The horrified look on her face made him cringe.

  “LET GO OF ME!” she demanded. Then she screamed, tore herself loose, and sprinted up the trail once again.

  He renewed his chase—determined to make her understand, to explain the rest of his plan—and easily outran her. He grabbed her arm, pulled her close, and slapped her cheek.

  “Listen, just listen!” he insisted.

  She spit in his face. “You monster! I’m gonna have you locked up!” With inhuman strength, she pushed him down and doubled back toward the ocean, dashing up the rocky coast toward the sandstone cliffs. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed without looking back. “GO AWAY!”

  Picking himself up, he resumed the chase. Moments later he caught up with her again and held on with a tight grip. She wrestled with him fiercely.

  “LET GO OF ME, JARED! YOU’RE C
RAZY! I’M CALLING THE POLICE ON—”

  She tore herself loose, but just as she turned to flee, her foot slipped on a smooth rock and she fell backward. He heard the dull thud of her head slamming against a large, wet, rounded boulder. The nearby surf reared up and flung itself against the coastline, drenching them both.

  Dripping wet, Jared stared wide-eyed at the glistening, prone body of his lifelong friend. A pool of blood formed beneath her head. He bent down but was afraid to touch her.

  “Maggie? Are you all right? Please be all right. Talk to me, please.”

  But there was no answer, and a split second later he was bowled over by yet another savage breaker.

  CHAPTER 19

  FREEDOM REVISITED

  THURSDAY, APRIL 27 (1:33 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME)

  CANADIAN FORCES STATION ALERT; NUNAVUT, CANADA

  Dallan paced the radio room floor in his felt boot liners like a caged animal. It had been days since he’d spoken with his people in Boulder.

  I need to warn them.

  They need to know what’s happening up here.

  “It’s still a no-go, Dr. O’Malley. I’m sorry,” the communications officer said, sad faced. “I’ll keep trying.”

  His shoulders fell. During the previous forty-eight hours the magnetic disruption over the Arctic worsened to the point Alert was now completely cut off from the rest of the world. Airplane navigation systems, radio communications, even the Internet—all of it was being addled by the intensifying magnetic storm.

  He left the radio room and headed for the dorm. He entertained thoughts of drinking himself to sleep, hoping when he awoke things would be back to normal.

  “Hey there.”

  The voice snapped him back to reality. It was Becky.

  “Oh, hey, Becky.”

  Over the past few days he and she had become well acquainted. He’d even told her about his filing for divorce, about wanting to put married life behind him and move on—to feel free again. She was empathetic, but so far hadn’t noticeably warmed up to him.