The Prophet: Life: A Sci-Fi Thriller

by David Beers

  “Are you still in command of this vessel?” he asked, not looking at her, but at those displayed on the window.

  “I … I …,” Raylyn was losing it, her ability to think, let alone communicate. She wanted nothing to do with any vessel. She only wanted to get away from the man with gray eyes. “We need to leave,” she finally said. “He’ll kill us if we don’t.”

  It was all she could think to say, because it was all that mattered.

  The Priest turned and looked at her, his bald head gleaming under the lights above. “Perhaps you should have a seat, Sister Brinson. I’ll send the attack.”

  Raylyn shook her head quickly, though she listened to him. She walked backwards across the floor, not taking her eyes from the weapon—afraid he might grab her if she looked away. Raylyn fell into a chair, barely noticing she had sat down.

  Manor, she thought. The name held urgency, but no direction. A few seconds passed and Raylyn realized what she was trying to do. She focused and told her nanotech to get him. Manor.

  Hey, he said. Is everything okay?

  No. Can you see him?

  I didn’t know where to look, he answered.

  Here, she said, her nanotech giving his the coordinates. Zero in and you’ll see him.

  Silence ensued, and she understood that he saw the same thing as her. The lack of words said more than any phrase could. He was as stunned as her. Maybe he didn’t feel the same terror, because he hadn’t met the man, but what they both watched should not be possible.

  Not from the gray-eyed demon, nor the Disciple.

  The Disciple was dancing along the spiderwebs, one of his feet touching a single string of electricity, his legs using it to powerfully launch him into the air. The weapon was retreating, floating effortlessly through the sky, more gray webs forming in front of him, trying to protect him from the coming assassin.

  And from what Raylyn could tell, an assassin who held no fear.

  Who is that? Manor asked.

  That’s the weapon, Raylyn answered, her words containing almost no thought.

  No! Manor shouted, his fear ringing through her head and pulling her back to reality. The one going after him! Who is that?

  I … A Disciple, I think, she said, her eyes widening and the last word turning to a whisper.

  The webs were springing on the Disciple, doing their best to wrap around his limbs, to tame his ferocious speed; green dots burned across his body, and each time a gray wisp brushed across one, the wisp caught brief fire and then simply sizzled out of existence. The gray strands could only touch his clothing, which they burnt through quickly—only to be met by the Disciple’s glowing green flesh.

  What’s happening, Raylyn? What the fuck is going on? Manor nearly screamed.

  Raylyn stood, a cautious happiness filling her. She wasn’t thinking about the First Priest, nor how he had relegated her to the chair. She was thinking … they might win, because the weapon was still soaring backward—speeding through the air while the Disciple rushed across his webs with speed that nearly matched him. The webs were thrusting forward now, trying to wrap around the Disciple but dying each time they touched him.

  The Disciple, nearly naked, continued his upward climb, and it looked like the weapon was running out of light to attack with.

  We’re winning, she said. We’re going to kill him.

  “Go on, then,” the First Priest said, speaking to the transport’s AI. “End him.”

  Wind whipped Rebecca’s hair across her face. She struggled to keep it from her eyes, but she couldn’t control the platform she stood on. The couple who owned the building were next to her, all three pressed again the railing.

  “No,” the woman said.

  The man was quiet, but his knuckles were white as he grabbed the metal rail.

  Rebecca didn’t know how it was happening, only that it was. David was losing to this man who had stepped from the transport. The stranger was fighting naked now, his clothes burnt from his body, glowing green as though diseased. Nothing David threw at him worked. The transport was still slowly floating upward, and Rebecca could see Rhett inside it.

  What is he? she asked. What is that?

  A Disciple, Rhett answered, clearly as terrified as she was.

  You’re terrified? she thought to herself. You, who already decided that David must die?

  But the answer was true and undeniable. Yes. Because watching her brother now, she understood the mortal danger he was in. If this creature who moved with the grace of angels reached him, David was finished. Her brother would die. Somehow he held no power over this man, finally as powerless to this Disciple as everyone had always been to David.

  She saw the woman sitting in the back of the transport. Her eyes were gray, shining through the distance separating her from Rebecca.

  Without thinking, Rebecca spoke. We have to do something! We have to help him!

  I know, Rhett said, his voice little more than a whisper. I just don’t know what.

  She heard tears through his nanotech and felt her own eyes growing wet. This was her brother, her blood … and no matter how far he fled, the Disciple continued after him.

  Rebecca had seen no other transports, no ships, nothing since David left and she stepped out onto the platform. What Christine told her had been a lie, something filtered up through the chain of command to see what would happen.

  Before, when the transports came to the compound, David had looked at each one of them. He’d known they were coming and then watched them approach. He saw their movements and knew how to stop them.

  Now, his attention was focused on the maniac climbing through the air.

  Oh …, Rebecca said, her thoughts failing. Hopelessness filled her as she now understood her brother’s death had arrived.

  You, she thought. You could have stopped this.

  The glowing orange light drew Rebecca’s focus—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of glowing orange globes hovering in the air for but a moment.

  Then they fired.

  Each streaking laser aiming directly at her brother.

  David had never witnessed anything like it in his life—would not believe it possible if it wasn’t happening right in front of him.

  No panic rose inside him, no fear, only a steady usage of the power that he’d honed over the past two decades. The gray light listened to his commands better than any limb or appendage ever could. It moved as easily as words over lips, doing exactly as he told it without hesitation.

  The man was launching himself—impossibly—off the gray light, his legs more like powerful machines than anything made of flesh and blood. With his right and left hand, David rushed the spider webs forward, even as his eyes pumped more and more into the air, all of them rushing forward to stop this creature.

  It was the man from before, David knew that with certainty. He’d killed him, simply wiped him from Earth without any issues. He was here, though, and David didn’t understand how—only this time, his flesh knew how to deal with David’s power.

  The gray light couldn’t touch him, let alone instantaneously burn him alive.

  Still, David didn’t panic. He never lost focus, only kept giving ground and moving further away from the transport which held the woman. His sister and Rhett were watching, but David knew they could offer no help for this thing.

  He moved left and at the same time whipped his gray webs away from the attacker, trying to make him lose balance--hoping he would fall.

  The man saw what David intended and dropped his hips deep on one last gray streak, then propelled himself high into the air.

  When does jumping end and flying begin? David wondered, watching in near awe. The man didn’t try launching himself to safety, though, but only upward … and David saw why.

  The transport beneath was trailing him, and it didn’t matter if he fell or not. He wouldn’t die. The transport would simply break his fall.

  David couldn’t get to the woman without going through him.

  T
he gray webs rushed forward, all of them at once, creating a tunnel that twirled around and around like the tornados David had read about but never seen. It blitzed down, his eyes adding to it with each passing second.

  This. This will crack through, David thought.

  The man had launched himself high, but his momentum was slowing and he was starting to fall back down, the transport ready beneath. The tunnel of flickering light slammed into his bare chest—and yes, David saw it throw him back, ending his forward momentum.

  David served the Unformed. He couldn’t be stopped. Not by this man, nor any other. The Unformed reigned above all and David was Its Prophet.

  The thoughts had barely moved through David’s mind before he saw smoke rising from the man. Only, it wasn’t him that burned.

  David’s gray light was turning to smoke, and the strands that didn’t strike him scattered.

  The attacker stopped falling, beginning again his upward dance across the gray light.

  David stopped soaring backwards and watched, trying to think. He couldn’t pull the light away and he couldn’t attack with it. The creature was closing in, only 100 yards away now and pumping with those infinitely strong legs.

  Maybe …, he thought, but as he did, orange glow erupted across the sky. Bright bulbs burning everywhere. The man didn’t stop rushing toward him but David’s mind thought nothing of it—because such orange light shouldn’t be raging in the air. None of this should have been possible.

  And then he understood, but only for a moment.

  Vessels he couldn’t see now surrounded him, and all were firing on him as one.

  He understood it briefly, but then the lasers shot through the sky without knowledge or care of what they were doing.

  Killing a Prophet.

  The lasers hit him, hundreds at once, and for a few seconds his body lit up in fantastic orange—a figure made of pure sunlight. He let out no cry, at least none that those staring at him could hear.

  And then, they all watched him fall.

  Everyone had come to this Ministry, in some part, for David Hollowborne. Each had their own reason, their own wish, but he was the single uniting figure behind everything. Had there been no David Hollowborne, no one would be in that sky.

  The lasers’ assault ended, and his fall slowly started. His back faced the Earth below, and his arms and legs stretched upward toward the atmosphere as gravity took hold of him. His long hair rushed upward, the wind running through it, and …

  All stared.

  The High Priest.

  The First.

  David’s sister and his closest follower.

  The Disciple who had walked on air.

  The True Faith devotee who had tracked him this entire time.

  The woman whose powers matched his.

  They all stared as he fell down, down, down, and then they lost sight of him as he hit white, puffy clouds.

  Those still in the sky kept looking down for some time, unable to truly comprehend what had just happened. The weapon … the Prophet … the Black—all had just lost and in a way that none really ever thought possible. They stared, some with smiles, and others with tears, but no one truly believing what they’d just witnessed. Because David Hollowborne wasn’t dead. He couldn’t die. Not until the Unformed arrived, his mission completed.

  Perhaps they stared for as long as 10 minutes, unsure of what to do. The fires that raged around them, the death that still reigned beneath the clouds, all of it originated with the man they just watched fall from the sky.

  The Prophet had died and neither followers nor enemies had any idea how to react.

  Fourteen

  The two people standing before Raylyn looked as if nothing she could possibly say would matter in the slightest. She could sentence them to eternal torture or forever pleasure, and it would all be the same to them. They each wore a necklace, which kept them bound and still. The necklaces were small things, round tubes that wrapped around the captives’ necks.

  They both stared at the floor; neither had bothered to fight, nor even speak.

  The Disciple stood in the same room with Raylyn. She knew nothing about this Disciple, only that he looked exactly the same as Rogan had. She didn’t care, didn’t want to speak with nor look at the man. She’d watched the magic he displayed when fighting the weapon, but cared nothing else about him. He was a part of the True Faith Ministry that Raylyn wanted to forget.

  Do you want to remember any of the True Faith?

  Her eyes narrowed. Raylyn had never thought such a question in her entire life.

  Is there anything here that you still want?

  Yes. Corinth. Manor. Perhaps the Priesthood wasn’t what she once believed, but that didn’t take away her deity or the man she loved. They were what mattered.

  Two other people also occupied the room with Raylyn, the couple who had housed Hollowborne’s sister. They were part of the Black’s forces, but Raylyn wasn’t as concerned with them. They were older and would face their fate sooner than the other two. It was an odd feeling, realizing that within the next few months, the world’s population would be decimated. Those already killed by the Black’s forces, and now the Ministries would begin rounding up those same forces. Perhaps some Ministries would have trials, but they would all meet the same result.

  Death.

  There wasn’t any other way, and Raylyn felt fine with that.

  Raylyn knew the woman standing in front of her but said nothing. This was the weapon’s sister, the one who had allowed them to kill Hollowborne. She saved humanity, but Raylyn wasn’t in a position to help her yet. Though, when the time came, Raylyn would. She’d speak at any tribunal or before the First Council if needed. This woman did not deserve death, and Raylyn understood that now. When Rebecca Hollowborne first contacted the Prevention Division, Raylyn had thought differently. She didn’t care if the informant died, because anyone who forsook Corinth deserved such punishment. Raylyn’s thoughts on that had changed, however. This woman might have been lost for a while—much of her life—but in the end, she found the hardest salvation imaginable. She’d helped kill her own brother.

  The man on Raylyn’s left? She didn’t know him and he mattered little. His proximity to what happened a few hours ago would warrant extensive questioning, but other than that … What could he offer the world anymore? His time had passed with his leader’s; he was a dead man walking.

  “You’re being detained for treason to the True Faith Ministry as well as mankind.” The words rolled off Raylyn’s tongue with little trouble, though she had thought it might sound strange. No one ever thought such words would be applicable, but …

  Well, they were perhaps the truest words ever spoken.

  Raylyn detained her subjects and then loaded them into the transport that would deliver them to the True Faith. Fate was waiting.

  “What is it?” Raylyn asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Manor lay on a cot staring up at the ceiling. They were riding in a much larger transport than the one they’d taken here, leaving behind the First Priest. Raylyn hadn’t asked any questions, only agreed and thanked him for the opportunity. She didn’t know how that would end for her, but like everything else, she’d find out in time.

  It was Manor she felt concern for now.

  His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. Raylyn sat down on the cot. He didn’t so much as glance at her, his eyes not breaking away from the ceiling above.

  “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “What’s going on?”

  He shook his head, but remained quiet.

  “Talk to me,” Raylyn said. She turned and laid down on the bed, draping half of her body over his and putting her head on his chest. She said nothing for a few moments, hoping he might speak. “It’s over. He’s dead. I saw it, Manor. I watched him fall, and now it’s all over.”

  Tears came to her eyes. A happiness, a relief that she didn’t think she could put into words. Lynda died at that man’s hand, not to menti
on countless others. Terror had reigned only briefly, but perhaps Earth had never had a ruler with such an iron grasp. And it was all finished.

  Raylyn said nothing for a few minutes, and exhaustion quickly found its rightful place in her mind. Raylyn fell asleep with her head moving up and down on her lover’s chest.

  Hate grew in Manor’s heart, a hate he’d never known.

  He knew it was over because he’d watched David fall too. He didn’t need someone to tell him. He’d seen it the same as Raylyn, his transport’s walls bringing him right next to David—as if Manor hung in the air with him. He’d watched David’s gray eyes die, and seen his body rush toward a ruthless ground.

  Fear had possessed Manor’s heart then, followed by despair. Hours passed as Raylyn did whatever she did and Manor sat alone in the transport, the emotions in him morphing.

  Now his fear and despair were as dead as David, only hate lived inside him.

  He didn’t know what he would do with it, only that it burned. His chest, his mind, all of it was alight while the woman who killed his Prophet lay on his chest.

  In moments, the world had changed and Manor’s life had been destroyed.

  Everything he loved, everything he believed, all of it had fallen from the sky never to be seen again.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET HER. GET HER AND BRING HER BACK!”

  Yule looked at Daniel Sesam, his transport’s screen relaying the man to him.

  “YOU TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND GO GET MY DAUGHTER!”

  Daniel’s face was red, tears welling large in his eyes. Yule looked at him, knowing that he could never feel the rage of this father, but also recognizing the pain inside himself.

  “Mr. Sesam,” the Pope said, “we have to wait now. I missed my chance. It’s my fault, no one else’s, but your daughter isn’t lost.”

  Yule thought his words might be true, but he couldn’t be completely sure. There was no guarantee with the High Priest or the True Faith.