She scooped some stew into two tin bowls before she answered him.
"Better eat first, babe, you'll probably need all the strength you can muster!"
Joe smiled as he took the bowl, and arched his eyebrows suggestively. Becky sat down next to him, and they began to eat as the last traces of light seeped from the sky.
SEVEN
Frank and Jessie
Frank's mind kept returning to the conversation he'd had with Jeremiah Edison two days before. He walked quietly beside Gary as he replayed it not really ignoring what Gary was saying, but not entirely tuned into it either.
"Frank, you're spacing out again," Gary said.
"Sorry," Frank replied, "thinking about that Jeremiah guy again. I never saw a picture of Maggie's husband... Sort of wish I had though. Can you believe, or I should say, do you believe what he said about being her husband?"
"Well, I'll tell you, it ain't as far-fetched to me as it is to you, Frank. I ain't so sure that there's much of anything I could consider far-fetched anymore... I guess if you've read your Bible, and I suppose you have, there's Lazarus. He got raised from the dead, although they say he was a pretty odd fella after that. I don't know, honest and truly I just don't, but I can't rule it out. Nothin's normal anymore, Frank, nothin' at all. You still gonna talk to him again?"
"Yeah," Frank answered, "feel like I have to. He said if I was interested in talking he could prove it to me, and I guess I'd like to see him put his money where his mouth is. I don't know what the hell he could possibly do to prove it, but... hell, it can't hurt to listen, right?"
"Nope," Gary replied, "it can't."
They walked toward the War Memorial as they talked. It had become a gathering spot of sorts, for the better than three thousand people that had arrived on this side of the city so far. It was the largest place they could all gather together in at one time, and it was also serving as a command post of sorts.
Two days earlier they had become aware of the broadcasts from Watertown. It had been an accident actually. Jimmy Johnson, who was now running the command post set up in the War Memorial, had suggested that it might be a good idea to keep an eye on the various stations to see if maybe anything was coming through.
The idea of monitoring for broadcasts paralleled another one of their own, only in reverse. One of the other ex-police officers had come up with the idea of broadcasting from the NBC affiliate that was situated downtown. They had begun to transmit, and almost simultaneously had begun to pick up the signals from Watertown.
It was a never ending barrage of the same thirty or forty minutes of video, showing what appeared to be actual executions. That was followed by a brief message from a young dark-haired man who smilingly advised them to surrender, or face the same consequences the people on the tape had. At that point the recorded executions would begin to play once more.
The broadcasts had an unsettling effect on the people in Rochester. As, Jimmy had pointed out, they were probably intended to do, and had left quite a few of them wondering just what the hell was going on over on the north side. The silence from the north side, and the transmissions from Watertown, seemed somehow connected. It also ended the speculation, as to whether or not the underground facility had survived the blast.
They were continuing with their own broadcasts, but reluctantly they were also keeping track of the broadcasts from Watertown. Jimmy had reasoned that they might eventually gain some insight into what was going on, on the north side of Rochester. So far however, the broadcast had not deviated from the video, and short speech routine, and the north side of the city was ominously silent.
"Are you pretty sure about them missiles, Frank?" Gary asked as they walked along.
Frank had filled Gary in about what he had learned from old man Peters, AKA David Black, back at the house in Fort Drum. Gary had agreed, that at least for the time being, it was best to keep that information to themselves. It would serve no useful purpose to terrorize everyone with the information.
"Dead nut's positive," Frank replied, "and you can bet I wish I weren't."
"Wonder if that crazy bastard in Watertown knows about it?" Gary wondered.
"No telling, Gary, but I wouldn't doubt it. Could be that's why he's telling us to surrender. He'd have to be a frigging fruit-cake though, to believe it wouldn't wipe him out too if he launched them," Frank said.
"Unless...Well, unless he ain't human," Gary said calmly.
Frank stopped on the street and stared at Gary. "What the hell do you mean by that, Gary?" he asked angrily.
"Calm down, Frank, I'm on your side. I can tell just by the way you reacted that you been thinking the same frigging thing. If Jeremiah has his God, then it's possible that there's a Satan, or Devil, or some equivalent somewhere," Gary finished, and deliberately began walking again.
"For Christ's sake, Gary," Frank said catching up to him, "what the hell are you getting at, you believe that shit? I mean really?"
"Exactly," Gary said, "I guess I do. I'm an old man, Frank, too frigging old to be goin' through this nonsense. But if I gotta go through it I'm going through it on the right side. Full steam ahead, nothin' else for it, and yeah, maybe it is for Christ's sake just like you just said. You didn't mean it that way, but maybe you should've."
He paused, and both men walked in silence for a few minutes.
"Look, Frank," Gary said in a calmer tone of voice, "maybe that makes you think I'm cracked, or gone over the edge, or whatever. It don't matter, it don't even matter if you don't respect my opinion any more. But I wouldn't have stuck my neck out and said it, if I didn't believe it. Consider that, Frank, before you judge me for what I said."
Both men walked along in silence, Frank finally broke it.
"Gary," Frank said, "it wouldn't change a damn thing about the way I think of you at all. You're smart, Gary, a hell-of-a-lot smarter than you let on even...What it does change is the way I'm going to look at it. If you believe it, it isn't going to make me believe it, but it is going to make me look at it a lot closer."
They both fell silent once again, thinking, and once again Frank spoke.
"Hey, if I acted like a jerk back there it's only because I am. Hell I've known for a long time that I needed to change, Gary, way before this happened." He swept his hands around in an arc to include everything within sight. "It's time for me to change."
"I got a little testy too, Frank," Gary said, "and I'm sorry for that, but not for the way I feel. I really think we need to pull together, Frank... If we don't, it sure as hell ain't gonna help us, and we need all the help we can get."
"Let’s go do it then, Gary," Frank said calmly, "let’s go find Jeremiah, and I'll listen, and not with a closed mind either."
Gary smiled. "Next time do I have to hold you down and beat on you to get you to do what's right?"
"Just try it," Frank said and laughed. "Of course I've been sitting behind a desk for better than twenty years, and you been working in a gravel pit... on second thought I'll pass, old or not you'll probably kick my butt."
They both laughed at that, and continued to laugh as they walked down the street.
The War Memorial was packed when they arrived, and the minute they entered they could tell that something had happened. Jimmy, looking harried, waved them over and through the crowd to where he was standing with Jeremiah Edison.
"Big trouble, Guys," he said, once they were at his side, "that wacko in Watertown... well, come on, I'll show you."
Gary looked at Frank with a what-the-hell-now sort of look, Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me," he said, as he turned to Jeremiah. "Jeremiah, how are you?"
"Been better, been worse," Jeremiah answered, "you look a bit on the beat side, pulled a double guard duty I heard."
"Yeah, for all the good it did, didn't see much of anything...Actually that made me sort of nervous. They didn't come around at all, not even to toss insults like they were."
"When you see the latest recording I think you'll be able to
figure that out," Jeremiah responded.
Now it was Gary's turn to shrug his shoulders as Frank looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"You bein' secretive for a reason, Jeremiah?" Gary asked.
"No, not a bit, I just figure the recording can explain a whole lot better than I kin is all," Jeremiah answered.
Jimmy had an office in the back of what had been a small sound room, and as he walked in, and held the door, the three men followed him.
"Not everyone knows this," Jimmy said as he shut the door, "we managed to cut the transmission after only a few seconds." He walked to a small television set with a built in recorder, picking up a disc as he passed his desk, and inserted it into the machine. "Problem is, what they did see is all over the place now."
The television flickered then the tail end of the execution tape began to play.
"We already saw this..." Frank started.
Jimmy cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Watch, it's coming up." Almost as soon as he had spoken the execution recording ended, and the dark-haired young man appeared. Frank was about to object once more. He hated the recording, and didn't want to watch it, but he realized that this time the speech from the dark-haired young man was different. Jimmy turned up the volume as all four men watched...
"Howdy," the black-haired young man said with a wave of his hand, and a smile, "we are coming to you live from our newly decorated offices here in the former military headquarters of project Bluechip. Don't know what that is?" the young man asked sarcastically, although still holding the smile. "Well I wouldn't expect a bunch of hicks like you to understand that. First I would like to show you how well we have re-decorated."
The camera panned jerkily around the interior of a small room. On one wall a bank of video monitors showed various scenes of buildings, and Frank suddenly realized that the buildings were in Rochester, specifically the downtown area. He could make out people coming and going from the War Memorial building, as well as several other buildings.
"What the hell?" Frank started.
Jimmy quieted him with a wave of his hand and said. "This is where we cut the transmission, Frank, watch."
The young mans voice could be heard in the background narrating. They all tuned into the voice...
"Yes, as you morons can see, we are keeping track of you on a daily basis. We have our helpers among you," he giggled before he continued. "Ron, shall we show them how well we re-decorated?"
The camera moved from the wall of monitors and continued to sweep to the left. It came upon the body of a young girl, hanging suspended from a pair of eye hooks on another wall. She had obviously been tortured and beaten.
"That sick bastard," Gary breathed.
The voice continued to narrate..."This little bitch was one of your spies," the young man said, "I just wanted you to get a good look at what we do with spies... Ron?"
The camera swung back to the right, and dropped lower to where the young dark haired man was now seated in front of a dual screened computer. One screen was blank, and the other was flashing on and off, but Frank could not make out what the words on the screen said. "Can any of you read that?" Frank asked, his voice tinged with panic. He had a pretty good idea what the screen said, but wanted to hear it from someone else.
"Can't make it out," Gary said.
"It'll be clear in a second," Jeremiah responded, turning his attention back to the monitor. Frank noticed there was a rock hard set to Jeremiah's jaw. He looks angry, Frank realized. Frank turned back to the small television set.
"Now," the young man continued, "let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we?" his face took on a grim look as he spoke, but the smile seemed to still be twitching at the corners of his mouth. "First thing is this, by my order you are to turn over the following individuals to my people on the north side of Rochester." He paused, and then began to read from a list.
"Jeremiah Edison, wanted for being a no good bastard, who has been spreading lies about me," the young mans’ face became serious as he spoke, and he looked up at the camera. "He is wanted dead or alive, and of course we will offer a reward. Next, Franklin Wilton Morgan, oh this guy is a real snake, a real low life," he stared into the camera, "a real chicken-shit bastard too, no balls at all, just turn him over to me folks, and of course there will be a reward."
Franks face was going pale as he watched.
"Next," the dark haired young man said, "is a real crafty old fuck. Gary Jones. Jones?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "sounds like an alias to me. This old bastard thinks he can figure all of this out," the young man grinned into the camera, "I want this one alive," he said, as he licked his lips. "Next, James Johnson. A cop friends and neighbors, a fucking cop! And he's been lying to you. No reward, dead or alive I don't care. Now lastly," he pretended to squint as he read from the paper. "Oh yes, Jessie Stone, now this little bitch, I want her bad. I intend to hang her right up on the wall next to that other little bitch."
Franks face flushed red. "That son-of-a-bitch," he said through clenched teeth.
The young man smiled from the television. "That piss you off, Frank?" he asked.
Frank drew in a quick breath. "How the hell..."
"Oh yes, I know about you two," the young man said, as if he could hear Frank, and even read his mind. "You think you had her first, Frank? You, my friend, are sadly mistaken," the camera swung down as the young man grabbed his crotch, "she munched this a few times, let me tell you."
Frank let out a wordless roar and lunged for the television.
"Frank, it ain't real!" Jeremiah yelled, as he restrained him, "it's what he wants you to do."
"I'll show that bastard what I want to do," Frank said, as he struggled in Jeremiah's grip. Jeremiah held him fast, as Jimmy reached over and paused the recording.
"It don't matter, Frank," Jeremiah continued. "Frank, look at me," he waited until Frank looked into his eyes. He could see the anger, and he understood it. "Frank, it's what he wants, he can't touch her, he can't touch any of us, believe me, Frank, I ain't lying to you."
Frank calmed down, but the anger stayed in his eyes. "I swear Jeremiah, if I get my hands on him..."
"Watch the rest of the recording, Frank, we got other considerations, it gets worse." Frank nodded his head curtly, and turned his attention back to the television, as Jimmy punched the play button.
"...right on the wall," the young man was saying. The camera swung back to the wall, once again showing the young girl.
She can't be more than eighteen, Gary thought.
The camera moved back to the young man.
"Now, new business. I think it only reasonable that since I know your names, you should know mine. My name is Luther, only Luther. No middle initial, no last name, and that is what you'll call me when you bow down and worship me... You see, I am your God now. Me, I am that I am," his grin became horrific as he spoke revealing sharp rows of yellowed teeth.
"Bastard believes it too," Jimmy said, staring at the television screen.
"We do have some other problems to resolve," Luther continued. "I don't mind if you insist on praying to that other God, at least for now, but once I kill that other God, and I will, you can bet your ass I will, I will be your only God. No others before me at all... I will not allow it," his grin disappeared and a grim mask of determination now rode his face. "Which brings me to the end of this little pep talk, Ron?" the camera zoomed in on the flashing letters on the screen.
ARMED!...ARMED!...ARMED!...
"Shit," Frank muttered, "the bastard's gonna do it." Jimmy looked at him sharply, as did Jeremiah, but neither man spoke.
"Yes, it is what it appears to be folks," Luther assured them, "and, sad to say, one of your own has known all along, yet didn't tell you. Now why do you suppose that is?" he winked at the camera. "I'll tell you why, cause he's a chicken-shit pussy," Luther said calmly. "I am of course talking about your own Franklin Morgan. That chicken-shit, that very same one, or... could be he's a spy for me..." he left
the accusation hanging for a few seconds. "Well time will tell friends and neighbors, time will tell. I regret I must leave you now, but I prepared a special recording concerning the young lady on the wall that I thought you might want to see. Oh yes, you have 48 hours. That's it. Turn the aforementioned criminals over to me, or," he turned and placed the index finger of his left hand on the keyboard of the terminal, "BANG," he yelled into the camera, and began to laugh.
Jimmy reached over and ejected the DVD. "You don't want to see the rest of it," he said, shaking his head sadly, "it's awful bad."
"Frank," Jeremiah asked, "did you know?"
"Yeah," Frank replied in a low voice that was still tinged with anger, "I did, but I wasn't trying to hide it like he said, I just didn't want to scare everyone."
"I didn't believe that, and neither did Jimmy," Jeremiah said. "But, Frank is it true? Are the missiles really there?"
"Yeah, I'm afraid they are," Frank said sadly, "but he'd have to be nut's to think he wouldn't kill himself if he launched them."
"Maybe he is nuts," Gary said, "maybe he's a raving lunatic, I mean he has to be anyhow..."
"Oh, he's a nut-case all right," Jeremiah said. "But I have no doubt at all that he'll push them buttons. You see...It don't matter to him 'cause he ain't human," Jeremiah finished quietly.
Silence hung in the room for a few minutes no one seemed willing to break it.
Frank finally spoke. "How do you know, Jeremiah? Gary said the same thing, not more than a half hour ago. How do you know?" Frank was pretty sure that he knew what his answer would be, but he needed to hear it from Jeremiah.
"God, of course," Jeremiah said. "No, God didn't tell me he had missiles, and God didn't tell me he would launch them, but I saw that man with my own two eyes. I saw him dragged from the pit, and I know who he is. He's Satan, pure and simple, or to put it another way, he's evil, and he'll do his best to kill us, don't doubt it for a second."
Frank lowered his head into his hands. He suddenly had a bad headache, that pulsed along with his heart, and every beat sent sharp slivers of pain into his head, making it harder to think straight. "Jeremiah," he said as he raised his head, "you believe that? You believe he's some creature? Not human, but... But spirit, or something?"
Earth's Survivors: box set Page 190
