I, Judas

by Bob Mayer

  Abaku went to the other tablet.

  “Place your hand on the screen,” Firth instructed.

  “What if I chop someone’s hand off and place it on the screen?” Sergut inquired.

  “Your mind, Brother, has some dark alleys in it,” Firth said. “The hand must be alive, and, as you will see, controlled by the person to whom it is attached. If we desired, we could use it right here, in this room, on everyone in it. But the cable will channel the signal to the dish and transmit it directionally to the first airplane.”

  The one-minute warning echoed out of the speakers on the tablets.

  On an overhead monitor, the display flickered and then the same scene that Kopec had brought up on his monitor in Atlanta was revealed. Three men and three women held in a padded cell. Two of the women were lying on the floor, apparently asleep. One of the men was pacing back and forth.

  There was a method behind why they had been chosen. They were unbelievers of the worst sort. Two were members of atheist societies. One of the men was a convicted sexual predator who had been released from prison and snatched up by the Brotherhood. One of the women had been tried for killing her own daughter, but had not been convicted on a legal technicality, although there was little doubt she had done it. Another woman was a prostitute with AIDS who had continued plying her trade even after being diagnosed. One of the men was homosexual, enough of a crime by itself to earn him the Brotherhood’s enmity. They were scum, all six, and if the Brotherhood could get the Word through to them, they could get the Word through to anyone.

  “Thirty seconds,” the tablets warned. “Enter code.”

  “It’s on the screens,” Firth explained to Sergut as he read the display, then typed it into the virtual keyboard below it. “Brother Abaku has a different code.” Abaku was also typing.

  “Code accepted,” Firth’s tablet announced. “Code accepted,” Abaku’s echoed a few seconds later.

  “Codes merged, machines merged,” both tablets announced. “Ten seconds.”

  They all looked up at the display.

  “Transmission.”

  A bolt of energy shot up from the satellite dish and disappeared into the sky, angled toward the first of the bombers. For several seconds the six in the cell continued on as if nothing were occurring. Then the four who were awake froze and the two who had been asleep sat bolt upright. Several of the subjects began to moan before they finally moved, putting their hands over their ears.

  “They think they are hearing something outside of them,” Firth said, “but it’s actually inside their heads. The vision will come next.” He looked at Abaku. “You can take your hand off the tablet now.”

  Those in the cell who had been standing sunk to their knees, their hands holding their heads.

  “Are they in pain?” Sergut asked.

  “It is but a small price to pay to receive the Word,” Firth said.

  “Transmission complete.” The power was cut to the dish. The screens on both tablets went dark.

  The three clergymen kept their eyes on the screen. The six people in the room slowly removed their hands from their heads and got to their feet. Tears streamed down their faces. The door to the holding cell opened and a cleric in a black robe and white collar entered. He had a Bible in his right hand that he raised up.

  “Do you believe?” the cleric called out.

  All six fell to their knees in front of him, crying out in supplication to the Lord, a cacophony of faith. They were begging for forgiveness. For redemption. To be saved.

  Abaku reached out and turned off the monitor. “It worked.” He pulled the thumb drive out of his tablet and placed both back in the metal case. Then he put the cable and the other tablet inside it. “I will be taking this.”

  Firth was confused. “But we have the dish here. We—”

  Abaku turned to his colleague. “The Illuminati know of this place. They will be here soon. It will be your job to make them think they have succeeded in stopping us. Your act of faith will be well received in the eyes of our Lord.”

  Firth blinked. “But…how will you transmit? The dish and the planes are unique. I don’t—”

  “I have planned for this,” Abaku said. “You must trust in God.” He turned to Sergut. “It is time for us to go.” He went to Firth and placed a hand on the monsignor’s shoulder. “You serve a very important purpose by remaining here and misleading the Illuminati. And you will be well rewarded by our Lord for that service.”

  Firth nodded, tears beginning to stream down his face. “I will obey.”

  Atlanta

  The Head of the Brotherhood had watched the same scene in the holding cell. Satisfied that all was on course for the Great Commission, he switched the screen to deal with another area. He stared at the webcam on top of the monitor and began to speak.

  Xingu River. Mato Grosso Region, Amazon

  “My Brethren in God and service, you have been called here for a great and significant purpose.”

  The six members of the team were crowded inside a small tent that had been hurriedly set up at the edge of the landing zone by the Brazilian soldiers. A generator rumbled nearby, providing power to the lights that flickered inside. They were circled around a laptop computer set on a field table, on which the visage of the Head of the Brotherhood was displayed. The sound and the video image were slightly out of synch, a quirk of the satellite feed and the decryption technology. In his right hand, the Head of the Brotherhood held a staff topped with a crucifix.

  “You are all volunteers, approached at various times in the past to respond immediately when called into the Lord’s service. As you know from the red envelopes you have received, that time is now.”

  Angelique stood on the far right of the group. After the hurried introductions that had been made as the other five had come off the helicopter, and after DiSalvo’s private instructions on the trip to her, there had been no time for more as DiSalvo had called the rest of the group into this tent. In the background she could hear helicopters landing, bringing in more supplies. She had a good idea what their task was to be, but she didn’t know how much each of the others knew. She’d known when first approached by her friend the priest years ago what might be required, but she could not refuse the Church anything. It had saved her life and she owed it that life in return.

  The Head continued. “The time we have been waiting for fast approaches. Much faster than any of us could have prayed for. The Second Coming is upon us.”

  Angelique’s breath caught in her throat. Even with the overwhelming emotion those words conjured up inside of her, she paid careful attention to those around her. It was the way she had been trained by the Kaiyapo. One had to always be alert in the jungle. It was a place where a lack of observation and caution could kill quickly.

  DiSalvo, Doctor Lee, and the technician Kopec, all took the words in stride, which meant they had already known what was happening. The American soldier, Gates, and the tall female, Hyland, were as shocked as Angelique. She filed that fact away as the Head continued.

  “The great star Wormwood is coming toward Earth and will be here in less than two days. It appeared in the sky out of nowhere, as only God could. Where we thought we might have years, we only have days. But such is God’s will, and so it shall be.

  “Thus the Great Commission must be completed in less than two days. That is the duty of the Brotherhood. Your task is another mission that must be done to help pave the way for the Second Coming. As you know from Revelations, there is danger all around for the faithful as the Rapture unfolds. False prophets will arise, the greatest of them the anti-Christ, the Dark One who will try to lead the souls of men astray.”

  It seemed to Angelique that even the sounds of the helicopters and the cries of the soldiers setting up the base camp outside were fading away. The air inside the small tent was still, and she could hear the pounding of her own heart.

  “We learned of the Dark One many years ago.” The Head paused as if considering his
words. “The inner circles of the great and true religions from which the Brotherhood is drawn know that the Great Betrayer, Judas Iscariot, did not hang himself, but rather was cursed by Jesus, the true savior of man, to wander the world in punishment until the Second Coming.

  “You are to undertake a journey into darkness,” the Head continued. “You will perform a great service in God’s name. You are to destroy he who we fear is the Dark One. You are the Wrath of God. We have our reasons for believing Judas will become the anti-Christ, the opponent of our Lord and an even Greater Betrayer than he was the first time our Lord walked the Earth. Judas will be Satan’s agent on Earth. You must destroy him before Wormwood arrives. By doing so you will smooth the way for our Lord’s Second Coming and reduce the amount of suffering the world must endure. You go with God’s blessing.”

  The screen abruptly went blank, leaving the six to ponder what these words meant to each of them.

  The Solar System

  The Intruder was moving at tremendous velocity. The numbers had been checked and re-checked and the best minds and the most sophisticated computers confirmed the collision with the Intruder. The only change was that the exact time of intersection had been calculated to the second. Thirty-eight hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty seconds. At 10:02 PM, Greenwich Mean Time, less than two days hence.

  Rumors were more rampant as those in the know whispered to those who shouldn’t be told. But facing annihilation, people reacted differently. There were those high in various governments who simply disappeared. Went home to their families and took them away. Who wanted to spend their last days with those they loved. And there were more suicides among those in the know, as logical minds were overwhelmed with the specter of certain death and worldwide annihilation.

  And then there were those who dusted off theoretical plans that had been talked about to deal with something like the Intruder. And helping those people were the agents of the Illuminati.

  But there were also those who believed. And the word was beginning to spread among them as well. And lurking in the background behind those people was the Brotherhood.

  Xingu River. Mato Grosso Region, Amazon

  DiSalvo addressed the other five members of the team. “We depart at first light.” He had changed his outfit, removing his brown robe. He wore plain green jungle fatigues, the same as Gates.

  “Why not now?” Gates asked. They were standing next to an eight-foot-high stack of supplies and equipment. Angelique had checked the gear, and most of it wasn’t going to be needed. It was obvious someone with a bottomless bank account was outfitting this expedition. However, that someone obviously had little experience in the Amazon and had bought everything they could possibly get their hands on that might be of even the remotest use.

  “Father DiSalvo and I discussed this,” Angelique said. “I’m the guide that was chosen, and I recommended we leave at daylight. If you won’t listen to me, why am I here?”

  “I’m asking for a simple explanation,” Gates said. “We have night vision capability.”

  “You cannot travel the river or jungle at night,” Angelique said. “There is a food chain out there. During the day, with our weapons, we can stay on top of it, most of the time. At night, we are no longer on top of the food chain. It is that simple.”

  Gates was not swayed by her argument. “There’s not much time.”

  “There is more than enough time to get to where we need to go,” Angelique said. She glanced at her watch. “This allows us to get a few hours of sleep before departing.”

  “It’s one hundred and ten kilometers to this Devil’s Fork,” the American said. “With the boats we have, we can easily make it in a day.”

  “No, you can’t,” Angelique said.

  “Why not?” Gates demanded.

  “Seventy kilometers into the journey the rivers narrows in a canyon. We will have to secure the boats, climb up a cliff, then winch the boats over a series of rapids and falls. That will take some time.” She looked at the American. “I believe some of us need the rest.”

  She had watched the supplies being unloaded and was impressed with the boats the Brotherhood had purchased for this mission. They would travel in two F-420 CRRC Zodiacs, top of the line inflatable craft. Each boat had a sixty-five horsepower engine mounted on the rear. Additionally, they had an Armorplate Bulletproof System that wrapped around the boat, something she had never seen before. The wrapping was a combination of ceramic armor plates inserted in bullet-resistant ballistic material. It was fancy, but she knew it was extraneous.

  The Brazilian Army would maintain a base here in Maria Preta with a radio relay, even though the technician, Kopec, had satellite communication equipment with which he could directly contact any place in the world. Angelique wondered if there was another reason the Brazilian Army was establishing a base camp here. The Brotherhood’s reach was long, and the Brazilian government was most likely very interested in whatever it was reaching for deep in the jungle.

  “Why can’t we chopper in?” Gates asked. “Bypass the river and the canyon and falls.”

  Angelique gave a quick glance at DiSalvo, then spread her arms, indicating the jungle. “Where would you land?

  “We fast rope down,” Gates said, referring to the technique of sliding down from the helicopter to the ground on thick ropes.

  “You’d get caught in the triple canopy,” Angelique said. “And you can’t take many supplies with you. Plus we have to repack the gear for travel. And,” she continued, forestalling Gates saying something else, “there are smugglers and people growing drugs in the jungle between here and our objective. They tend to view helicopters, especially ones with Brazilian government markings, as the enemy. They shoot first and ask questions later. And they have surface to air missiles.”

  “They can shoot at us on the river,” Gates observed.

  “They can,” Angelique agreed, “but they can also see us on the river and I know them and can speak to them as I’ve met many before. We will have to pay them off for passage, which we can do on the river, but not when flying overhead.”

  Gates looked skeptical, but said nothing further. Angelique sighed, exhausted from lying, but also from explaining. Those who had not spent time in the Amazon, particularly the Mato Grasso, had no idea what they were facing. People who had spent their lives in civilization were often overwhelmed when they ventured into the wild. She had no concern about the American soldier, as she was sure he had been in some pretty brutal places, but the others worried her. And she really didn’t know why some of them were going on this trip and DiSalvo had not bothered to explain. What did they need an historian for? And why was DiSalvo insistent on arriving on the Final Day?

  “Listen,” Angelique said, getting the attention of the other five people. “Several things. First.” She opened up several plastic cases. “Everyone gets a weapon.” She held up an MP-5 sub-machinegun. Again, top of the line, although she would stick with her shotgun. “I assume the good Captain here can give you all a quick course on how to use these.”

  Gates nodded. “First thing in the morning before we get on the boats. For now, nobody loads any weapons unless you’ve been trained on them.”

  “I know how to handle weapons,” DiSalvo said, slamming a magazine home into the gun she had just handed him, which didn’t surprise Angelique.

  “I don’t need a gun,” the tall archeologist, Hyland said. This also didn’t surprise Angelique. “I am here for my expertise and—”

  “The jungle does not care about your expertise,” Angelique cut off the other woman. She tossed the sub-machinegun and Hyland caught it. Quickly, not brooking any more argument, Angelique tossed subs to Kopec and Lee. She opened another case and removed 9mm Berretta pistols secured in thigh holsters and passed them out. As she and Gates helped the three inexperienced members strap on the guns, she continued talking.

  “We are going up the Xingu River. Further than I have ever traveled. Very few people have ever gone up pa
st the Devil’s Fork. None have come back in living memory.” Except me, she suddenly realized. The name of the split in the river, and the implicit warning, caught everyone’s attention given their mission.

  Angelique continued. “No one knows exactly how it got its name. But about one hundred and ten kilometers from here, there are two feeder rivers coming together. Immediately beyond the Devil’s Fork the two rivers begin breaking down into countless streams.”

  Gates looked up from adjusting the thigh holster on Hyland’s long leg. “If we’re going further than you’ve ever been, and there are so many streams, how do you know which one to take? For that matter,” he said as he straightened up and glanced at DiSalvo, “how the hell do we know—” he paused, searching for the right word—“the target is up there? And do you know exactly where the target is located? It’s a big place.”

  “How we know the Great Betrayer, Judas Iscariot, is hiding there,” DiSalvo said, “is none of your concern, nor is it necessary for the task at hand. Our last report on his location is over one hundred years old.”

  “Eighteen sixty-seven to be exact,” Angelique said.

  Doctor Lee had his pistol in his hand and was looking at it curiously as if a nurse had handed him the wrong instrument in the operating room. “How can you be so exact?”

  “This is my land,” Angelique said, “and I know its history.”

  “She’s correct,” DiSalvo said, both surprised and impressed she’d known the date. “In eighteen sixty-seven, Sir Richard Francis Burton, who was the British Consul in Brazil, traveled here.”

  “And as far as it is known, he was the last one to come back down river alive after going past the Devil’s Fork,” Angelique said.

  Lee awkwardly slid the gun back into the holster. “You’re joking, certainly.”

  “I’ve seen people head up the river saying they were going past Devil’s Fork,” Angelique said. “I’ve never seen any of them come back.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was something she had found a long time ago in school and kept to read to those she guided who became too cocky. “This is a copy of a telegraph sent less than a century ago by someone who was trying to follow Burton’s trail.” She read it out loud. “’I have but one object: to uncover the mysteries that the jungle vastness of South America have concealed for so many centuries. We are encouraged in our hope of finding the ruins of an ancient, white civilization and the degenerate offspring of a once cultivated race.’” She folded it and put it back in her pocket. “That was sent by Lieutenant Colonel Percy Fawcett, a British officer and explorer.