God of God

by Mark Kraver

  When the smoke began to clear, onlookers could see that the Cloud of Christ had already moved on. They instinctively ran their hands over their own heads and faces, arms and torsos; tentatively they raised their eyes and examine the surrounding crowds and skyline. As they looked to one another, they gradually realized that no one appeared to be injured.

  “Oh my God, what happened?” shouted the skipper of the Sailfish. “Damage report.”

  “Sir, no damage can be seen,” Cobb announced, after scanning the riverfront and nearby bridges.

  “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The Sailfish shot forward, weaving in and out of boats to get in front of the sinking behemoth. Nothing was left of the cargo ship, yet there was no damage to the nearby buildings, bridges, docks, or people?

  “Skipper, look,” shouted Cobb. A flock of flying naked babies ascended from the cargo ship’s ghostly hull like demonic seagulls after picking over a bloated body on the beach.

  “I think it’s stopped,” sighed the skipper.

  “Command, we think the ship has stopped,” Cobb broadcast from his handheld mic.

  Logan and Conrad were still in shock. They looked at the smoldering ship’s hull from high above. She heard Numen in her mind. “Don’t worry.”

  Logan swung around to catch Numen turning back in the direction of the skyscraper-lined East River. They passed over the next bridge filled with astonished crowds waving and throwing confetti.

  Yusef, his jihadi brothers, and even his uncle Saeed stood on the bridge, stupefied. Swallowed by a crowd of eager onlookers, they had absolutely no recollection of how they got there. Yusef noticed the way his uncle held his hands out in front of himself, groping at the air. He realized his father’s brother was now completely blind.

  “God, I wish I knew more landmarks,” Conrad said, looking at the jagged skyline. “The UN’s gotta be around here somewhere. Right?”

  “Not sure.” Logan shrugged and watched the people on the boats and piers.

  “I’m not too sure about any of it,” he said, breaking into a productive, bloody cough. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and reached up to return the compassion by covering it with his hand. As he turned, he blurted out “OOH!” The hand was Yahweh’s, not Kit’s. “You scared the crap outta me,” he flinched.

  “Vincent,” Logan said, to let him know everything was okay.

  “Dr. Vincent Conrad, your journey’s beginning is in sight. Will you help Logan?” asked Yahweh.

  “Help? Ah, yeah,” he agreed, nodding.

  “Excellent,” Yahweh said, extending his hand. “Behold.”

  Before them, to the left, stood the United Nations building. As they got closer, the cloud rose high over the top of the building. There were small groupings of sandbagged military foxholes spaced out over the top of the building; each one contained armed military personnel, whose attention and weapons were fixated on the passing cloud. Logan could see that, as far as the buildings around allowed her to see, people jammed the streets in every direction. Though there appeared to be no more space, no place for them to go, the blanket of people seemed to keep moving, pressing ever forward toward the UN building.

  The cloud hovered over the roped-off circular driveway in front of the UN’s entrance for several minutes, stunning everyone with the likes of Jesus Christ and his mother, the Virgin Mary. A large podium had been erected, but it stood alone, its microphone untouched—a visual reminder that nobody really knew who oversaw this gathering. The Secretary General of the UN stood on the drive astounded, waiting to be addressed by who was believed to be the savior of the world.

  A fervor was spreading through the crowds surrounding the international compound. They began shaking the fencing with such force it crashed to the ground and people began spilling onto the circular drive’s large reflection pool. The riotous shouting and cheering were clearly audible within the cloud, and the chaotic scene was making Logan’s heart race.

  Yahweh connected to Logan’s mind with a telepathic trance. Smiling his warmest and most caring thoughts, he blanketed her with an all-encompassing calm. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and her mind fell into a subconscious abyss as deep as the Earth.

  A few seconds later, she returned from the center of the universe by snorting awake, her primitive lizard brain stimulating her paralyzed muscles to breathe. Unrolling her eyes, Logan felt overwhelmingly aware of a newness to the world. Recovering from her momentary lapse of consciousness, she looked around. She felt as though she had been reborn.

  Immersed in a different reality, she sensed everything around her with a new truth. It made her feel cold and exposed. She slipped on her hooded sweater and pulled it tightly around her head. Her haunted gaze fell upon the blank faces of the worshipers below. The pulsating crowds surrounding the UN complex moved inside her mind’s eye like a single dynamic organism, as she whispered the word, “Genesis.”

  Alarmed by her sudden shift in behavior, Conrad wrung her hand, asking, “What just happened?”

  But no one answered.

  Chapter 44

  The Lord your God will raise up a Prophet like me from among your own people. Listen carefully to everything He tells you. Anyone who will not listen to that Prophet will be cut off from God's people and utterly destroyed.

  Moses, 1391-1271 BC, Earth

  Library of Souls

  Dirty Carpet

  General Cathguard rocketed through the sky in his private Learjet to catch up with the cloud. The sonic boom he left behind sounded an alarm to the nation below that the world was changing.

  He had spent the last eight hours investigating the alien ship now on lock-down in an old airplane hangar in the middle of the Florida Everglades, now dubbed Area Forty-one. Sitting in the back row of the plane was FBI Special Agent Garth Goodheart, trying to get some badly needed sleep.

  “No, I didn’t expect the beach to be that crowded,” General Cathguard said in a low voice over his private satellite phone. The general was sitting far enough away from Goodheart so the covert conversation with his attaché could not be heard over the purr of the racing engines.

  “They beat him to death and threw his body into the ocean,” said his attaché.

  “I didn’t expect that, either. He was a good man but disavowing him is our only option. What went wrong at Wrightsville Beach?” Cathguard asked, changing the subject from their botched lone gunman plan on the secluded Georgian beach to their other failure in North Carolina.

  “Microwaves and particle beam weapons had less effect than a spotlight but did knock down a news chopper.”

  “I don’t care about the chopper. It shouldn’t have been so close in the first place. What about our man at the UN? You’re sure he’s unstable enough to do the job?”

  “Al-Harbi? Our very own suicide bomber? He’s so pumped up with psychedelics, he’d blow-up his own mother.”

  “Good, I’m getting a close look myself right now over the harbor. It doesn’t look so bad. I’ll keep in touch,” the general said, staring out the window at the bizarre cloud-top below. He tucked his phone into his pocket.

  “General landing at Teterboro in one minute,” the pilot announced. “A copter is waiting at the end of the taxiway.”

  Cathguard grunted, “Time for the biggest show on Earth.”

  Cathguard’s pilot deftly landed the jet on the overcrowded jetport and taxied right up to the waiting helicopter. He turned and looked at Cathguard. “The chopper pilot has agreed to put you right on top of the UN complex,” he said. “He’s an old Blackhawk pilot, you’ll like him.”

  The jet came to a full stop at the end of the tarmac and the pilot popped open the fuselage door. Off to the right of the jetway, a man was struggling to pull a small motorbike out of his prop plane’s backseat.

  “Maybe our friend can commandeer that bike to get to his destination,” Cathguard laughed, nodding toward the stowaway FBI nuisance still dozing in the back seat. />
  “Yes sir, I believe he can,” his assistant said with a smile.

  The general deplaned the jet and walked without ducking his head straight for the revved-up chopper, leaving his assistant behind in the jet to handle the FBI agent. As soon as the general was inside the helicopter, the pilot took off. Cathguard had to steady himself as he sat down and put on his seatbelt and headphone helmet.

  “I like this guy already,” Cathguard shouted with a crazed grim to the crewman sitting next to him.

  “Sit back and enjoy the ride, general,” the helicopter pilot said over his headset. “We will be landing shortly. We do not have permission to land on the UN Tower, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I really do like this guy,” Cathguard laughed.

  Weaving back and forth between tall buildings, the chopper pilot took the most direct route possible. Everywhere the general looked, streets were packed with people and cars. Among the standstill traffic jams, pedestrians scurried in and out of stranded cars all heading in one direction, the UN building.

  “General, your team is in place on top of the tower.”

  “Excellent. Front row seats.”

  The helicopter circled the United Nations complex once, and then descended onto the building’s rooftop. The general surveyed his team hunkered down and chuckled to himself. “Keep bad dogs with you,” he muttered, “so the good ones won’t bite.”

  “This is the best I can do, general,” the pilot said, landing the helicopter.

  The general laughed and hopped out of the chopper like a kid half his age. He clung low to the roof letting his ride take off and clear the building before he met his elite squadron of Army Rangers.

  “Sir, the cloud is coming up the East River,” the sergeant informed the general after a smart salute. An enormous mushroom explosion came from the direction he was pointing.

  “My God is that a tactical nuke?” the general yelled in disbelief.

  The explosion was so massive it shook the building three miles away.

  “Radiation detectors are negative, sir,” said the sergeant, checking his instrumentation.

  “Then what the hell—” the general yelled, catching sight of the cloud coming up the river. “Would you look at that.”

  Each of the rangers looked at each other with disbelief.

  “Don’t let any of this go to your heads. This thing is not what it looks like. It’s an honest-to-God alien from outer space,” Cathguard reminded them.

  This revelation from the general did little to relieve the jitters of the rangers posted on top of the building observing the most spectacular event ever witnessed in the history of modern man.

  “General, any change in your orders?”

  “What? No.”

  The cloud followed the East River straight for them. As it got closer, it rose higher and higher until it was over their heads. Inside the cloud, visions of what looked like Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary could be seen. One of the Rangers bowed his head and crossed himself.

  “Spooky,” the general admitted, as his team bounced a laser rangefinder off the cloud.

  “General, the readings are useless. It’s like it isn’t there at all.”

  “Impossible, I can see it,” the general shouted, looking straight up at the miraculous sight.

  The cloud was slowing as it drifted just beyond the roof and stopped over the circular driveway in the UN Plaza. Cathguard kept his eyes on the cloud as he moved toward the edge of the roof. “Are the drones in position?”

  “Yes sir. Nothing to lock onto, waiting your command.”

  Pulsing chain rattling sounds forced the general’s attention off the cloud hovering overhead to the crowds below. A section of the UN’s protective fencing crashed open letting the elated mob pour into the front driveway and into the large fountain pool.

  “I’m most interested in where it is heading after this little press conference,” said Cathguard.

  “Do you think Washington?” asked the sergeant.

  “If it doubles back in that direction, then we’ll have our answer.”

  A brilliant beam of light began to illuminate the ground in front of the UN building. It was clearly coming from the cloud. The beam's brightness was uncomfortable even just to look at, and those in the path of the intense rays were instantly pushed back by radiating heat. The Secretary General, glad he could now stop fighting the growing rambunctious crowd, stood back at the edge of the beam and waited for his cue—though from whom or from what, he was not sure.

  The sergeant looked at Cathguard. “You think that’s a weapon, general?”

  The general didn’t say a word. He squinted his eyes, watching, as the cloud suddenly dispersed and the fierce beam of light went dim.

  Materializing before everyone’s eyes, as if watching a gigantic magic show, the figures of an enormous forty-foot-tall Jesus and his mother Mary hovered over the cleared-out patch of driveway. Everyone in the crowd could see the majestic figures staring directly into their own eyes.

  “General, incoming!” the sergeant shouted, pointing to golden streaks of blurred light shooting past the tops of the adjacent buildings and toward the crowd on the circular driveway.

  “What? I didn’t give the order.”

  Words began booming into every ear: “I am the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. Which is, and which was, and which is to come. What you see and hear remember this forever and send it to the seven continents of the Earth; for all must hear and understand my words.”

  Seven golden points of lights streaked across the skyline like rockets, sending screams of terror from everyone’s mouths as they landed. One by one the points of light lit up beside the right-hand side of the Holy figures and transformed into the visions of winged cherubim.

  “My God, what the hell are those?” the sergeant shouted, looking through his high-power binoculars.

  “Uh, naked babies. What do you think they look like sergeant?” Cathguard groaned.

  “What?” the sergeant squeaked.

  Cathguard shook his head like it was no big deal and turned his face again to the looming figures. His eyes met the piercing gaze of Mary, almost close enough to touch. He exhaled slowly and looked at the men standing near him. “Let’s get down there,” he said. “You two stay and observe. Let me know if something goes sideways.”

  The general ran for the rooftop door and disappeared with two rangers trying to keep up.

  “I am he who lived and was dead,” the Jesus figure said, “and behold, I live again, forevermore.”

  The cherubim spread out around the perimeter of the circle to ward off the growing, pushing, and shoving crowd so they would not get close enough to see through Yahweh’s gravitational facade. The Secretary General, sensing it was his time to enter the circle to welcome Jesus, began to boldly walk forward, only to be hissed back into the crowd by a little winged creature.

  “This woman before you is the first of you chosen to lead Earth to salvation. She is a prophetess, my oracle, to whom I will speak to directly. Follow her as you would me. Disregard her prophecies, and feel my wrath. Repent your transgressions, for Judgement Day is upon you all.”

  Mary slapped her hands together over her head, releasing a roaring clap of thunder. Instantly, she, Jesus, and their cherubim entourage vanished in a concussive burst of sound and light, leaving Dr. Katherine Logan and Dr. Vincent Conrad in front of the mesmerized mob of shocked soul seekers.

  Conrad leaned towards Logan. “Prophetess? What is that all about?”

  She shrugged. Wearing her hoodie over her disheveled hair, she hypnotically stepped forward and cleared her throat. She spoke slowly, but her voice boomed, funneled through the facilities speaker system and on every electronic receiver around the world. “I have seen Heaven. Yahweh has shown it to me.”

  The crowd fell silent.

  “Judgement Day is at hand. Our sun—” shielding her eyes and glancing at the sun, “is dying.”

  The crow
d stirred.

  “A great awakening is already sweeping across the Earth. Do not be afraid.”

  “The blackout?” someone shouted.

  Logan nodded. “In the next few days, our determination will be challenged, our spirits tested, and our beliefs strained.”

  The crowd began to get agitated.

  “No more wars or famine. No prejudices or race inequalities. No more borders. We are now without countries or dictators. No crimes or prisons. Diseases will be eradicated, leaving no hospitals to equip or staff.

  “This may sound like heaven to many of you; others may find it debilitating. Losing one’s vocation and identity as a doctor, nurse, lawyer, accountant or politician will be challenging. The way forward is education, with an emphasis on science, math, and engineering. The world as we know it is at its end. Go home, and prepare your families, your friends, and business associates for the future. Prepare for an enlightened new world. A world full of hope. A world full of dreams. Prepare for a new birth. Prepare for a genesis.”

  Logan looked at Conrad as she pushed back her hood. Conrad stared in shock. Upon Logan’s forehead were bright yellow markings—a six-pointed star.

  “What have they done to you?” he gasped.

  The look on his face sent a chill up Logan’s spine and made her feel faint. She couldn’t stand. Her knees wobbled, and he clutched her arm to steady her.

  “Can someone help us inside?” Conrad shouted to a nearby dignitary.

  A large, dark-skinned man in a dashiki jogged out to where the two messengers of God stood. He approached Logan and hesitated a moment before daring to touch her arm.

  “I won’t bite,” she said meekly, showing a comforting crooked little smile. With evident relief and pride, the man took her arm and helped Conrad walk her through the front door of the main UN tower.

  When Cathguard entered the lobby of the main UN building, he ran into two men helping a slumped woman through the front doors. Looking out into the front driveway he could see the mob of people outside racing toward the front doors.