The Prophet: Life: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  “Tell me, what’s happening?”

  “I’m sorry, your Holiness.”

  “No, Sister. That’s not what I asked. Please tell me what is happening outside this infirmary.”

  The attendant was quiet for a few seconds, and then started talking. “The Black. I-I-I know that it hasn’t been officially announced, but the Black has returned. It’s killing everyone.” Tears filled her eyes and her voice broke on the last word.

  “Yes, Sister. It is the Black and it has returned. Officially, as I’m telling you now. So the woman in there, Raylyn Brinson, I don’t care what happens if we push her. I don’t care how much time she needs. She might be able to help us, Sister, and that means I need her up and ready. Do you understand?”

  The attendant nodded. “Yes, your Holiness. I understand.”

  “We give thanks, Sister. Now, please, don’t let me keep you from your duties.”

  “We give thanks.”

  The attendant scurried down the hallway and the First Priest turned back to the door, looking in at the sleeping woman.

  Raylyn was awake and sitting up. She knew she was drugged, though not with what. Her mind was working better than it had been six hours earlier, and the only explanation was that the attendants had given her uppers.

  They’d put food in front of her, too, though she hadn’t been hungry.

  “Sister, if you don’t eat, we’ll hook a tube to your stomach, and feed you directly. If that’s what you prefer.”

  Raylyn knew that wasn’t necessary, that opening her up and sticking a pipe in her was ancient and barbaric. Nanoparticles could do everything they needed, but this attendant was sending a very clear message: you’re going to obey.

  The uppers helped clear up the fog around that decision. Raylyn ate the soup they placed in front of her. She wouldn’t endure surgery just to get calories in her body.

  “The First Priest is coming to meet with you again,” the attendant said. “It’s important that you’re fed and thinking clearly.”

  Raylyn had said nothing, though she felt her heartbeat accelerate.

  The First Priest.

  She never wanted to see him again, not as long as she lived. She hadn’t thought about him since she first returned and was forced to sit in front of him, reciting what had happened—all while trapped in the nightmare of a mental breakdown.

  Had Raylyn thought her part was finished? No. She hadn’t thought at all. She’d been wrapped in darkness and content with it. The uppers now pumping through her blood refused to let that happen anymore, though.

  I’m not done, she thought. Corinth bless me, I’m not done.

  More hours passed and the attendant made Raylyn do physical drills. Nothing too strenuous, but definitely ensuring that she’d be able to move if the First Priest demanded it.

  “He’s on his way,” the bitch attendant said.

  Raylyn didn’t respond, was simply grateful to be done with her. The nanotech was still delivering the uppers at a constant rate, and Raylyn though they might be delivering a calming agent, too. Fear definitely surrounded the First Priest, but Raylyn wasn’t crippled by it.

  She sat in her room, waiting. She thought it funny how quickly this had become her room, given she’d only been here a few days, and awake for so few hours.

  The First Priest entered, standing just inside the doorway.

  “We give thanks,” he said.

  “We give thanks,” Raylyn responded. Her hands were still, and she seriously did thank Corinth for that.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay, your Holiness.” Do you still have a drone floating in the sky above? If so, then you should know I’m only sitting up because of all the drugs in me, and that I’m actually terrified of you, your Holiness.

  “Good. The attendants said you’ve made a lot of progress over the past few days.”

  Raylyn said nothing. The First Priest looked on for a few awkward seconds and then walked across the room. The left wall changed as he moved toward it, the white panel disappearing, a video replacing it. Raylyn understood the calming agent was definitely working, because she felt no real horror at what she saw.

  Her city sat across the wall.

  She saw the Corinth Monument, or what was left of it.

  The statue had stood over 300 feet tall, stretching from a platform at the bottom of the New Corinthian Central Building. The statue had faced outward, Corinth’s eyes looking slightly up to the sky.

  His eyes were no more, though.

  His head either.

  All that was left of Raylyn’s God were his knees and everything below them.

  Her emotions cracked through the drugs. “No,” she whispered. “No, that’s not real.”

  “It is, Sister.”

  Fire burned across the city, but Raylyn paid no attention to any of it. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the statue that had dominated so much of her life. It had always been there, looking down on her. She’d been able to see it from nearly anywhere … and now it was simply gone. Destroyed as if it’d been nothing more than the stone it was built from.

  As if it hadn’t been an ideal, a faith.

  “This is just one statue in one city. Yours, yes, but still—only one city. What you see here is happening all over the entire True Faith. Corinth statues have been destroyed in nearly every major city we’ve ever built, as well as the smaller towns. Sister, looking at this statue, what do you think happened to the people in your city?”

  Raylyn closed her eyes, trying not to think about the flames.

  A single word flashed through her mind, one that she hadn’t thought of in days.

  Manor.

  Her suitor.

  No, more than that. Your lover now.

  Her eyes flashed open, tears flooding them.

  The First Priest was looking at her. “You don’t have to answer. Your face says you know the truth.”

  Raylyn wanted to ask about Manor, but she kept her mouth shut. One didn’t ask the First Priest about a single human, not with the significance of what was happening so much greater.

  Manor’s fine, she thought. He’s fine, and you can find out as soon as the First leaves. You’ll make that bitch attendant tell you.

  “The Black has returned, Sister. What you’re seeing now, this is the same thing that happened during Veritros’s time. I can show you holographs if you like; we have some preserved.”

  Raylyn shook her head.

  A chair unfolded from an opposite wall and floated quickly through the air to the First. He sat down a few feet from Raylyn.

  “We talked about the Black when we first met, didn’t we?”

  Raylyn nodded.

  “But we didn’t go into much detail. I think, perhaps, now is the time for such things.”

  Raylyn said nothing. The Priest leaned back into the chair, it unfolding underneath his thin frame.

  “I’m going to speak frankly with you, Sister Brinson, because time is short.” He crossed one leg over the other. “I’m unsure what the masses think the Black is. Each Ministry has made up a story for it. The Old World says it’s the Devil. To be completely honest, I’m not 100% sure how we describe it, because it’s never mattered to me. I never thought this would happen during my lifetime, and if I can be even more honest, I’m not sure I believed the seriousness of it at all … If I had, none of this would be happening, would it?”

  The First Priest looked back to the wall for a second, as if taking it all in again. He didn’t turn away as he resumed talking.

  “The Black, the best we can tell, is a physical creature. We believe It actually exists. A major problem with It, besides Its desire to come here to Earth, is that when people find out about It, they want to join the cause. I don’t know why, but that’s what’s happened each time. So every Ministry created a name and a mythos to scare people away from joining.”

  He gave a single chuckle.

  “Apparently, it didn’t work. The important thing to remem
ber, Sister, is that this creature is a physical being. We don’t know where It is, and we don’t know how or why It selects who It connects with. We really don’t even know what It wants, not in the end … Though, if this is any indication, it’s not good for us. We think this being wants to come here, to Earth, and we think It’s using the weapon as a conduit to do so.”

  The First Priest turned back to Raylyn.

  “I’m going to continue being honest with you. The High Priest … He’s not exactly … connected right now with what’s happening. There’s nothing I can do about that, or anyone else for that matter. I also don’t have contacts within other Ministries, so while I know they’re burning down too, I can’t do anything there, either. All I can do is try to kill this weapon. Each time we’ve stopped the Black, we did it by killing Its conduit.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “There was a traitor in his flock, yes?”

  Raylyn nodded.

  “And we weren’t able to kill a single person at that compound? The same one the traitor resided in?”

  Another nod.

  “Then, unless Hollowborne discovered the traitor, they’re alive. And unless this whole thing was a ruse, they will still want him dead. Are you following me, Sister Brinson?”

  “I … I’m not sure.” Raylyn was having trouble keeping up, even with the drugs pulsing through her. The statue, broken. Crumbled. Lying at the core of the Earth, where it melted. Burned alive. The Black? It had returned?

  “Focus,” the Priest snapped, and Raylyn’s eyes did just that with perfect clarity. She saw the First looking at her, his own face hairless, fierce. “This traitor is still alive and still wanting to give up the weapon. Perhaps they never believed in Hollowborne, or perhaps they’ve had a change of heart. I don’t care, Sister, not one damn wit. What I do care about, is making contact again, and finding the weapon. Then killing him. That’s why I came to you, because you’re going to do it.”

  Raylyn shook her head, tears rushing to her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. “No, no, I can’t. I can’t look at him again. I can’t even try.”

  “Sister, you will, and you want to know why? Because there’s no one else. I can’t send some other Prevention Division employee to make contact with this informant. They wouldn’t respond, and we don’t have the time to get anyone up to speed. LOOK AROUND YOU.” The Priest stood, his left arm extending forward, showcasing the wall. “There isn’t time for your tears or protestations. This is not me asking you, this is Corinth commanding you, Raylyn Brinson. And you’re going to answer Him.”

  The Priest’s arm dropped to his side again and the two met eyes, the Priest’s cheeks dry and Raylyn’s wet.

  She didn’t know what to say. The Priest’s face was a mixture of determination and anger; gone was the kind old man she met in the Council’s chambers.

  In the end, though, Raylyn had been born to say the words that came. Born, then trained her entire life, because the duty of her God trumped anything else she might want, and this was His servant now giving His orders.

  “Yes, Most Holy,” Raylyn finally managed to say.

  Six hours came and went. At the beginning of them, Raylyn had called the attendant to her room and said something simple, but nonnegotiable.

  “You’ve been giving me drugs, correct?”

  “We’ve given you substances to help your recovery,” the attendant said.

  “I want you to keep giving them to me. Even when I leave, I want my nanotech to keep releasing appropriate doses of all of it, okay?”

  “We’ll need to—”

  “No,” Raylyn said, “you won’t need to do anything except make sure these doses keep releasing in my bloodstream. If you have any problems with it, we can ask the First Priest?”

  The little bitch’s face morphed immediately, from one of control to fear—and looking at the attendant, Raylyn knew she’d encountered the First. The two were sisters in that as well as Corinth.

  The attendant left and Raylyn started trying to focus again. She was resigning herself to the First Priest’s demand. She was scared, but the drugs would help with that. And the First? Raylyn would obey him, because in doing so, she was obeying Corinth. Him, personally though? When this was over—if anyone survived—she was finished with the First Priest—the entire Prevention Division. He might be dealing with extreme and dire circumstances, but Raylyn thought a cruelty rested beneath him that would outlive any situation he might come across. She would obey, because she had to, but she no longer revered the man.

  Her room was back to its normal state. The wall that had revealed her burning city now only showed white, and that was fine with Raylyn. She didn’t want to think about the fallen statue or the death racing through her hometown. It wasn’t home anymore, and wouldn’t ever be again unless the Black was stopped.

  She had to go forward. Corinth would deliver them from this, and despite the First Priest’s cruelty, perhaps he was right. Raylyn might be the only one who could do this.

  There was one more thing, though.

  She didn’t know what the First Priest would think about it, but with him no longer staring her down, Raylyn found she didn’t really care. Her city was destroyed. Her home gone. Her closest friend dead.

  Manor, she thought.

  Find him, she told her nano. If he’s alive, find him.

  Manor Reinheld was 29 years old the first time he murdered someone. He had lived his whole life hoping it would happen, because he knew that if he never killed anyone, it meant the Unformed hadn’t returned.

  His wish was granted.

  Manor’s blood had burned like everyone else’s, everyone who accepted David’s blood. He’d known what it meant, and without hesitation, he’d done his duty.

  Three days had passed since the blood spilling began and Manor should have been exhausted, but he felt fine. His city was south of Raylyn’s, and though he had liked his time with her, he hadn’t thought of her since the war began. She was something from the past, a life before all of this.

  Parts of the city he occupied still burned, though most of it was merely smoldering now.

  Manor had no idea how many were dead, and he didn’t really care either. He didn’t consider himself cruel or a psychopath. He was a soldier, and he’d signed up knowing he would one day act as one. In war, soldiers killed and people died. If he’d done it for any other reason, then judgment would be correct. The Unformed was beyond human reason, beyond human morality. He couldn’t be judged by man, because he followed something greater than man.

  He was leaving a meeting when Raylyn contacted him. He’d taken the stairs as the elevators were no longer usable. In the aftermath of the initial attacks, they’d designated buildings that were safe for use, but in all cases, there were still damages.

  The meeting focused on strategizing for what came next. They’d been contacted by one of David’s Generals (a name Manor’s group gave the woman, although she hadn’t referred to herself that way). Her name was Christine, and she was slowly connecting with each city, giving them instructions on what to do.

  They spoke with the woman last night, and today discussed amongst themselves how best to implement her instructions. Manor was only a soldier in this war, not someone creating strategy. He would do as told, and do so happily. He didn’t want any major post within the Unformed’s world; he only wanted it to arrive, and quickly.

  He was three steps from the next floor when he heard her.

  Manor, it’s me, the words rang through his head—the voice still sweet to him. Can you hear me?

  He stopped walking in the stairwell.

  Manor knew who it was; his nanotech recognized hers, but the voice was clear to him as well. Raylyn. She was alive? Manor hadn’t given her much thought, if any at all, but intuitively he thought she must have died at some point after the attack on David’s compound. Her city had been razed just like so many others; he had no reason to think she’d still be alive.

 
; She survived, he thought. That’s her voice.

  Manor? she asked.

  He couldn’t hide from her, because her nanotech had been able to lock on to his.

  Raylyn? he said.

  Oh, thank Corinth, you’re alive! I thought for sure … Her voice trailed off for a second, and Manor remained quiet. He wasn’t sure what to say, nor what to do.

  They were on opposite sides now. One sworn to some false god, and he … Last night he’d washed blood from his body, standing under the shower and letting other people’s life flow off him into the drain beneath. If he saw her, he’d kill her.

  Where are you? she asked.

  I’m … I’m in my city. My home is…, he paused, unsure how to answer her question. How would those he’d been attacking sound? How would they feel? How would they communicate? … It’s gone, Raylyn. I don’t know … I’m alive, but I really don’t understand how. Where are you? Are you okay?

  I’m at Corinth’s Shrine. I’m safe. I’m just so glad to hear you’re not … that you’re okay.

  The First Council’s Shrine? he asked. His assumptions had been correct, then. This woman was someone high in the Ministry’s structure, at least now. Most likely, she had helped lead the attack on David’s compound.

  Yes. It’s safe here. I … I want you to come. I can make sure you get here safely.

  Manor said nothing, though his mind was racing. Part of him—a part he hated—didn’t want her to know the truth. A part of him still cared about what she thought, even though it didn’t make sense. He had murdered people just like her and would do so again. He shouldn’t care what one person thought, not even someone he had cared for—yet he still did.

  None of that matters now. Your side is chosen, and so is hers. Unless she takes the Blood of the Touched, she’s your enemy.

  There’s more here than that. The war isn’t over and the Unformed hasn’t returned. The Union hasn’t occurred. Inside that Shrine, you could do a lot more, Manor. You could wage war where their Priests sleep.

  Still standing in the stairwell, he took a step closer to the window on his left. He looked outside. A broken tower hung in the distance, one that once housed some of the city’s wealthiest people. Jagged pipes and steel poles stuck out at the bottom, pointing toward the Earth’s core. You could get me there, Raylyn? You’re sure? It’s dangerous here. Going outside … You can’t do it.