The Prophet: Life: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  Giving up didn’t take away the awkwardness of it, though. Not at all.

  The man Rhett traveled with was somehow controlling his nanotech. He could use some of it or all of it—every last particle floating through Rhett’s bloodstream.

  So, it was easy to keep Rhett awake and not talking. Rhett’s mouth simply didn’t move. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t control himself, and that’s why he fought so hard in the beginning. The moment he felt something else gaining control over his body, his mind had revolted, shooting adrenaline out and commanding every muscle to do the exact opposite of what the nanoparticles were telling them.

  Rhett didn’t know if the man caused the pain, or if his own revolt caused it. Either way, his skin burned, and he could feel nanoparticles pulsing against it—like they would rather break through his flesh than obey his commands.

  He’d only thought about running once over the past 24 hours. The man had been carrying the girl, her body lying in his arms like a bride of old, with the three of them approaching a transport.

  Rhett had only thought about escaping, and almost instantly, he no longer owned his body. Someone else did. The man next to him. His walk grew stiffer, and for a moment he almost fought it—struggled to gain control again—but remembered the acidic pain that would blast through his body, and quickly banished the idea.

  He marched almost like Stellan had across the stage, like a toy soldier. The man had said nothing to him, only kept walking across the field, carrying the woman while controlling Rhett.

  Now, in the transport and flying just beneath the clouds, Rhett shuddered at the thought.

  The woman slept in the back. She lay across the seat on her back, her hands at her sides, almost like a corpse. Her sleep was unnatural; Rhett didn’t need to be a doctor to understand that. Something was happening with her and Rhett didn’t know if the man beside him was doing it. Or, it could have had something to do with what happened in the motel room. Maybe it was even David, working from afar—but whatever caused her to remain unconscious, she wasn’t simply sleeping.

  Rhett had control of himself now, though that didn’t mean much. The man next to him could take it back at any point and Rhett would do well to remember that. Rebecca had contacted him … he only hoped she wouldn’t do it again. The man hadn’t said anything about it, but Rhett thought he knew. Anything to do with nanotechnology … this man was the master of it all.

  He didn’t sleep as far as Rhett could tell. They’d been on the move for about five hours, though not flying the entire time. At some points the transport had landed, and Rhett understood why. The Unformed’s war was raging and if someone spotted an unidentified transport, they’d shoot it down.

  What Rhett didn’t know was how this man understood when to land.

  He glanced over at him, the unknown stranger with strange powers—deadly powers. He only stared forward with cool, calm eyes, as if traveling alone.

  Kill her? Rhett thought. That’s what I’m going to do? How, when I can’t even control my own muscles?

  “Where are we going?” Rhett asked without realizing he was going to do it. The question in itself was dangerous—anything around this person could be—because the slightest comment might cut Rhett off from his own body.

  The man turned his head slightly to the right as if remembering Rhett was next to him.

  “You already know, at least you think you do. You told your friend we’re heading to the One Path.”

  “Are we?”

  The man shrugged.

  “What are you?” Rhett asked.

  “Do you think knowing will help you accomplish your goal? Will classifying me help you kill this woman?”

  Rhett swallowed. He knew everything; not only that Rhett had been contacted, but even his plan.

  “It could help,” Rhett said. “If I know what you’re capable of, it could help me make decisions.”

  “So,” the stranger said, “I should help you kill me?”

  Rhett thought of Rebecca in that moment, how nervous she would have been sitting here with this odd man. Rhett said what he would have said if she were here, to both lighten the mood and perhaps calm her some. “If you’re so inclined.”

  “Quid pro quo,” the man said.

  Rhett’s head jerked back slightly, a little shocked at the offer. “ … Okay.”

  “I’m a Disciple. Do you know what that is?”

  Rhett’s head was still tilted back, and his eyes widened now. He knew the term, knew that it meant something like a sect of Priests, but not much else.

  “Now you have a name to go with the abilities you’ve seen,” the man said. “My turn. Are you a disciple as well, of the weapon?”

  An odd question, and not something Rhett had ever considered.

  “I … I guess you could consider me that. I follow him, yes.”

  “Which weapon? The one behind us or is there another that started this war? I believe you want to kill her, so I can’t imagine that you follow her.”

  Rhett was careful to keep his face from showing anything. This Disciple might have powers Rhett didn’t understand, and he also knew a lot, but clearly key pieces eluded him.

  “Don’t lie,” the Disciple said.

  Rhett nodded, knowing that he couldn’t. “I follow the other.”

  “But you do more than follow him. You would kill for him? He holds you in his trust?”

  Rhett nodded again.

  “It’s your turn.”

  “Why are we going to the One Path?”

  “I’m taking her to meet the man I serve.”

  “The First Priest?” Rhett asked.

  “No. The man he serves too. The High Priest.”

  Rhett went quiet. He had heard of the High Priest, much like he’d heard of Disciples—but Rhett had honestly thought him a myth. Just something whispered about to help keep people in line. Rhett couldn’t remember ever seeing this High Priest give a public speech or proclamation.

  “Why do you serve him?”

  Rhett understood a certain piece of this conversation was rooted in insanity. The Disciple next to him would certainly kill him at some point, yet the questions intrigued Rhett. Why was he asking them? Why was he curious all of a sudden, when for days he’d said nothing?

  “Because I’ve seen the power he rules with.”

  “It’s power you serve then?” the Disciple asked.

  “No. I serve because I understand that the power he wields comes from something else. I serve that. I serve who he serves.”

  “But in the end, it’s power, right? Because that power is what you’re following. If the Black didn’t give the weapon his power, you wouldn’t follow?”

  Rhett looked forward, thinking through the questions and momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. These were things that he hadn’t asked himself, nor had Rebecca or Christine. They saw David and what he could do, and they followed. His blood flowed through their own, and Rhett simply couldn’t deny the truth of it.

  But could he explain it?

  “Quit pro quo,” he said, ready to flip the question. “Why do you follow the High Priest?”

  A small smirk grew on the Disciple’s face, knowing his question had already been asked, his turn spent.

  “I follow because I was made to. I was made to serve the High Priest and thus Corinth.”

  “That’s it? You were made to? You weren’t born like me?”

  “Quid pro quo,” the Disciple answered. “It’s power you serve in the end, nothing else?”

  Rhett shook his head slowly as he stared out the transport’s front window. “No. There’s truth here. There’s truth in the Unformed, and it’s not like anything in the Ministries. There are no statues for It, no canon to follow, no edicts—but yet, we still follow It, because we believe.”

  “Faith, then? Like the religions of old?”

  Rhett matched the Disciple’s smirk. “I suppose until you see that truth, then you’ll just have to think of it as faith
. Faith has nothing to do with it, though, because I’ve seen the truth.”

  Rhett looked over to watch the Disciple’s response, and for a second, the two grinned the same.

  Then the entire outside of the transport lit up in flames.

  Daniel looked at the machine, everyone standing just behind him, but all staring at it.

  “I’d ask again if it was safe, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s safe,” the Pope said.

  “What do I do when I get in it?”

  “I don’t know,” Lane said. “We’re sort of flying blind.”

  Daniel shook his head. What could he do? What could he say? He didn’t control his sight anymore and hadn’t for years upon years. No one else in the entire Old World had it, though— at least as far as anyone in this room knew. Daniel either got in this machine, or let Nicki continue on her way to this High Priest. The one with different values.

  Christ, he thought. Jesus Christ.

  “Will I be able to talk to all of you?” Daniel asked.

  “I believe so,” Lane answered.

  “But we’re flying blind,” Daniel echoed.

  “We are,” the doctor answered.

  “Each minute, Mr. Sesam,” the Pope said.

  Daniel nodded, understanding. He stepped forward and two technicians moved next to him—at least Daniel thought that was an appropriate title, he really didn’t have a clue if they were technicians or tinkerers.

  He climbed into the device that had created people like him—the first person in close to 1,000 years—and hoped he’d be able to talk to his daughter.

  Hoped he wouldn’t die.

  Nicki Sesam didn’t know what the outside world was doing. She didn’t know that for so many groups, a universe’s entire future hinged on her and her fate. People were looking for her, some to kill, some to help, some to study, and some to use.

  Nicki knew none of that, though.

  For a while, she had been tossed to and fro, moving from world to world without any concept of time or space. She only knew she was somewhere different from the people and things she encountered. The man with the gray eyes. The man flying high in the transport. Then, she thought she had come back to reality for a second (or close to it), and she’d kept her father from dying.

  Nicki was no longer on Earth, at least the part that made her her. Yes, Nicki’s body might have been in the back of a transport, one surrounded by fire and hurtling toward its destruction—but Nicki’s soul wasn’t with it.

  She sat where a few others had before. A girl lost to history, a demon woman that the world was taught to fear, and finally a man named David Hollowborne, who the world was just coming to know. History would not forget him, as it had the first, but his legacy had yet to be fully written—just as Nicki’s hadn’t.

  She sat in blackness, watching lights explode across some invisible barrier. Orange light flashed out at each explosion; Nicki didn’t know what it was, but she found that she didn’t care all that much either. It was beautiful. More so than anything she’d ever seen.

  Nicki didn’t know the names for it—the Edge and the Beyond. She didn’t know that she sat at the universe’s end, and was literally watching it push against whatever lay on the other side.

  There was happiness here, and Nicki was fine with that simplicity. Beauty. Peace. No more running, no more visions, no more dark man with gray eyes looking at her. Here, she was alone—and while her dad wasn’t with her—a lot of the fear from the world wasn’t either.

  Actually, none of it.

  Questions didn’t come to Nicki, questions she might have asked if the majesty before her hadn’t been so grand. Questions like, How did I get here? Who brought me? What brought me? How do I get back? Important things to an outside observer, but at the Beyond …

  All such things ceased to matter, and had Nicki known back on Earth her death was only moments away, she might not have cared about that either. For now she was happy looking at beauty.

  That was enough.

  The Unformed’s thoughts could not be easily translated to English. In fact, no true understanding of Its thoughts could be transcribed, as they were beyond any human’s comprehension. For our part, we can only do our best in hoping to understand something beyond both us and perhaps the space/time continuum itself.

  Forgive this poor transcriber if it is done poorly.

  The Unformed watched now. It saw this new creature before It, just on the other side of the barrier constantly weighing down upon It. This creature was like the others that had come before, yet different, too. Different in that the Unformed hadn’t summoned her.

  Worrying wasn’t possible with the Unformed. The word had no meaning to It, and the feeling associated with the word would have been unfathomable. The creature in front of It now didn’t worry the Unformed—no more than an eagle would be worried by a new species of squirrel scurrying beneath its perch.

  A squirrel was a squirrel, and this creature was the same as the rest of them—even if not summoned by the Unformed.

  Still, she was here and looking at something she shouldn’t be, which were the primary reasons the Unformed preferred her dead.

  The closest approximation to the Unformed’s thoughts were: How?

  It could connect with her if It wanted, the same as It had the others, but It hadn’t yet. There were rules to these connections that the Unformed didn’t fully understand, because It hadn’t created them … and time was running short for It. Its lifespan would seem infinite to Earth, but It had never even considered time. It simply existed without thought of death or birth, mate or foe.

  That had changed, though. At least partially. It now considered time almost constantly, that and Its own death.

  Perhaps the Unformed had waited too long, thinking the impending threat this universe caused could be easily disposed of, but twice now, the Unformed had been thwarted. There was time yet, It knew that, but not how much.

  And this new creature caused the Unformed to hesitate—though hesitate wasn’t fully accurate. It didn’t want to make contact with this one, as It didn’t know if Its connection with the other would be damaged. The other would complete the necessary tasks. Not this one. These creatures, their lives were short and they were forced to spend the entirety of them on one task, if that task was to be done well. The Unformed couldn’t simply start over with this new creature, not without destroying everything already built.

  How?

  The question didn’t matter, and the Unformed quickly moved on from it. The creature must die. It had already told the other so, but yet here this new one was, staring out at the Unformed, its head nearly empty—filled only with wonder.

  The Unformed pulled back some, deciding to let the creature continue staring. If she was here, she couldn’t interfere with Its plans. The other one would kill this new creature soon.

  And then the necessary actions would be completed.

  Time was short, but the Unformed’s power knew no limits.

  The helmet swung down so that it hovered over Daniel’s head.

  He looked at the people around him, unable to see those behind him. The ones at the panel.

  “You going to tell me when its starts?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lane said from behind.

  Daniel looked to the Pope. “What if this doesn’t work? What do we do then?”

  “You’re not a believer are you?”

  Daniel said nothing.

  “It’s okay,” the Pope said. “No ill will befall you from the Church, Daniel. Your heresy is forgiven through me by God; no Hail Marys, no penance necessary. This will work, and I’m able to say that because of my faith in God. This program, however disastrous and painful it has been over the past thousand years, was created for a reason. I think your daughter is that reason, and I think you’re a part of it. My faith says it has to work.”

  Daniel looked at the Pope for a few more seconds, seeing something he’d never experienced before. Faith. It was a
concept Daniel had rejected his whole life, looking on those who carried it as sheep. The man before him didn’t look like a sheep, though. He looked confident and perfectly content with the critical look Daniel cast on him.

  Daniel turned his eyes forward. “Turn it on, I guess. We’ll see what happens.”

  He heard soft movement behind him, someone typing at the panel. Daniel waited, saying nothing. A minute later, he heard a slight hum start inside the helmet but that was all.

  “It’s on?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lane said from behind him.

  “I’m not feeling anything.”

  “We need to give it some time,” Dr. Lane said.

  Daniel was quiet. He didn’t know if they needed time or not, and he doubted anyone else knew either. From what Daniel could tell, this room contained three types of people. The completely clueless—which was him. Those that thought they knew a little—the technicians and this Lane character. And then those who knew they were clueless, but still knew everything would work—the Pope.

  Daniel closed his eyes and waited.

  Minutes passed, he didn’t know how many.

  “Still nothing,” he said, opening his eyes and automatically searching for Yule.

  The Pope was nowhere to be found and Daniel Sesam found himself staring at his daughter. Her beauty caused him pause, and love swelled in his heart.

  If only for a second.

  Because in the next, he realized fire surrounded him, and from what he could tell, Nicki had only a few minutes left to live.

  “Nicki! NICKI!”

  Nicki looked around but saw only blackness. Of course, explosions still decorated the world in front of her, but the voice wasn’t coming from there.

  It was her father’s voice, and for some reason Nicki thought he had to be behind her. She knew nothing that might be in front. Whatever lay out there … Nicki didn’t think it was human.

  “NICKI! CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

  Dad?

  She didn’t say anything aloud, because nothing could have heard her in this place. That didn’t make much sense, given that she was hearing her father’s voice, but it was true all the same.