Finally, many minutes later, they fell into silence, their pent-up emotion giving way to exhaustion. Lucifer watched them and waited, then spread his arms and smiled.
They were his power. They were all he had. He was nothing without them.
But they were enough.
And as long as they were willing to follow, as long as they were willing to cry and scream and pledge their undying support, as long as they were willing to believe him, even knowing in their hearts, somewhere deep in their souls, that he was lying to them, as long as they were willing to listen, and follow, and do what he said, then he would grow strong, drawing more power from them. As long as they were with him, standing loyally at his side, then nothing could stop him. His success was assured.
And they were willing to follow, that was the bottom line. No one had forced them to be here! They had chosen to come. Without them, he was nothing but a silver-tongued devil with great hair and white teeth. But with them–oh, with them! There was nothing he couldn’t do.
As Lucifer looked out upon them, his followers, his servants, those who brought him such power, he shivered with excitement. He couldn’t help smile.
* * *
Ammon stood alone near the stone arches that defined the top of the park, right next to the raging flags and huge banners that beat themselves in the wind. He watched both the speaker and the crowd as the assembly wore on, sometimes astonished, sometimes afraid. It was like watching some magic, something he could not understand, the way Lucifer manipulated their emotions, like they were an empty bag, waiting for him to fill them with whatever he desired–hate, anger, jealousy, fear, lust, ambition, or irrational rage. They were pliable, like soft putty, wanting to be molded by his hand. And it was clear, as he watched, that these people had surrendered their will.
The wind blew clouds of dust before the rising storm, and Ammon pulled his sash over his face. The crowd did not notice the gusting wind, their enthusiasm unabated as the speaker went on. Ammon began to move among the people, searching the faces in the crowd.
His brother was here, somewhere in this mass of people.
Lucifer held up his arms, and the mob fell silent, an enormous sea of people waiting to hang on his every word. He moved center stage and turned in a slow circle, seeming to acknowledge each individual in the crowd. The people took a breath and held it, almost breathing as one. The sky grew dark from the clouds that had blown in from the west, casting dim shadows in an almost purple-blue light. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating his face. He spoke, his voice a rumble that echoed over the crowd.
“My brothers and sisters,” he cried. “Thank you! Thank you for coming! Your participation, your support, your enthusiasm and passion, everything you offer–it means so much to me. This incredible–” he stopped and turned in a circle again, his voice almost cracking with emotion and pride. “This incredible crowd of great people! It is more than I could ask for! You are all that I’ll ever need!”
The crowd cried and stamped their feet, going crazy again, cheering and screaming and clapping their hands. The flags rippled in the wind and the band struck up a new song, the drums beating wildly, the crowd joining in the rhythm as they waved their hands in the air.
Lucifer watched carefully. There was so much energy! So much passion and heat! He lifted his head, holding his face to the sky, and slowly closed his eyes as the adulation washed over him like crashing waves of warm sound. Time seemed to pass slowly. He opened his eyes and lowered his head. “Brothers and sisters,” he continued in his low, rolling voice, “each of you has come here for the same reason. After a great debate, after a great contest of ideas, each of you, each of us, have come to believe the same thing. We have discussed this before; there is nothing new I can say. We have debated it so long now it is beginning to wear on my nerves.
“But let me say once again, because I want you to know. I don’t mean to speak ill of our brother. I know that you love him, and I love him too! He has done so much for me, taught me so many things. But this scheme . . . this risky, dangerous, salvation scheme! It is going to destroy us! It will destroy most of you!
“And so I ask you to consider, consider one final time. Is that what you want? Do you want to fight for salvation? Do you want to fight tooth and nail, to claw your way through some earth-life of pain and gut-wrenching sorrow, do you want to crawl like a maggot through the drivel and slop, just to fight your way back to where you are now? Are you willing to do that? And for what purpose, I ask. How many will He lose? How many of you and your loved ones will not make it back?
“It is a terrible cruelty, a selfish and sadistic plan, to ask you to go through that just so they get more power!” Lucifer stabbed with his finger at some unseen enemy that the crowd hated now. “Why must you suffer? Is that what we really want? Is it love that demands such a high price of you? Or is it love that I offer? Is there more love in my way?”
The crowd screamed with emotion, a wild craze in their eyes. Yes! Yes! It had to be true. He was the one who loved them, not Elohim and Jehovah. The Father didn’t love them; he had a selfish, cruel plan!
But Lucifer would save them! Oh, and they loved him so. He would save them from the suffering. He would save every one!
So they cried and they shouted, and they embraced his offer anew.
And the banners waved behind him, lifting in the great wind, casting dark, lonely shadows across the great crowd.
The rally went on until dusk, Lucifer gauging the crowd, sensitive to the fact that he could keep them going only so long. He sensed their waning energy about the same time it began to drizzle, the precursor to the heavy rains that were just a few miles away. He closed suddenly with a wave of his arms, a final promise of victory, and a cry of encouragement, then moved in a circle, seeming to look everyone in the eye. With a wave of farewell, he marched from the stage.
A lieutenant was waiting at the base of the platform. He wrapped the great leader in a banner, draping it over his shoulders, and led him away, down a long tunnel that would take them away from the crowd. A large entourage, all of them men, followed the great leader as he walked down the dark tunnel, his closest advisors crowding near, all of them congratulating him with exaggerated praise. As the group of men entered the tunnel, the storm clouds broke loose, sending cold shafts of rain driven before a harsh wind. The master looked back and laughed, knowing his people would be utterly drenched.
In the background, against the tunnel wall, a stocky man stood in the shadows. Balaam wiped a hand across his stubbled face as his master walked by. Then he turned to his young friend and smiled pleasantly.
“Was that so bad?” he offered. “Can you see now that the evil rumors you hear about us are nothing but exaggerations and lies?”
Luke stood in the shadows and followed Lucifer with his eyes, watching as he passed and walked down the dim hall. The soft light caught the great leader’s hair and cast a strong shadow over his face. He towered above his followers, so strong and tall. And yes, there were times . . . there were times when he seemed to speak the truth. But there were other times, other words, when he seemed so angry and bitter! What were his motives? What did he really want? Was he in this for his people or only himself? Luke had to wonder, and he felt a sinking feeling inside.
Balaam watched him closely, measuring the look in his eyes. “Would you like to meet him?” he asked excitedly.
Luke shook his head. “I’ve seen enough,” he quickly replied.
“If you would like, I could arrange a time when you could . . .”
“No, thank you, Balaam, I’ve seen enough.”
“What if we were to . . . ?”
“No, Master Balaam, I just want time to think. But thank you for inviting me. I appreciate your effort and time.” Luke touched Balaam on the shoulder, then moved to walk up the tunnel, toward the crowd and the rain. Turning, he lowered his voice. “This is our secret,” he reminded. “That was part of the agreement. You wouldn’t talk to Ammon if I agr
eed to come.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You know I won’t betray you. You can always trust me, Luke.”
Luke nodded appreciatively. “Thank you,” he said as he turned away.
“I will be thinking of you, Luke,” Balaam called after him. “Be careful. And think about what I told you today.”
Luke waved over his shoulder but didn’t stop or look back. He walked toward the shadows of the night sky and exited the tunnel, stepping into the rain.
Balaam watched him go, then turned to follow Lucifer’s noisy crowd. Though he was one of those servants who had chosen to follow Lucifer, he stayed far behind, for he was not a member of the inner circle–that much was clear.
Lucifer walked at the head of the group of men, moving with long strides and renewed energy. He could have gone on for hours if the crowd had let him. He was high on the emotion he had sapped from his followers, the experience leaving them exhausted but making him come alive. How he held them, how he cowed them, how he sapped their energy dry! And he loved it. He needed it. And he wanted more. He would never be satisfied. He was addicted to them now.
As he walked down the tunnel, the sound of the crowd drifted behind him and Lucifer slowed and looked back, glancing over his shoulder. He wanted to go back and climb onto the stage. He wanted to stand before them and lather them into a frenzy again. He wanted to hear them and see the wild look in their eyes. His chest constricted suddenly. How he thrilled at the crowd!
* * *
The rain poured like a waterfall from the sky, blown by the wind into sheets of cold, biting water. The crowd began to run as the thunder and lightning beat on the ground. The people scattered in all directions, most of them holding jackets or blankets over their heads. The wind blew the rain, forming a wall of cold water that soaked Ammon completely as he walked through the running crowd.
“Sam!” he cried above the howl of the wind.
The crowd ignored him. He called his brother again. No one stopped to offer assistance, though, in the darkness, behind a window, someone was watching him.
* * *
The tunnel began to ascend and the group walked through a large set of double doors into a small room. There, Lucifer’s mood suddenly soured. He turned to his lieutenants. “Did you see them?” he demanded.
A moment of silence followed. “Who?” one of his lieutenants replied carefully.
“Traitors. They were out there. The Father has sent out his spies!”
No one seemed to know quite what to think, and they were slow to respond. A hush fell over the room as Lucifer stared at his men. “You didn’t see them?” he demanded. “How could you be so blind?” Again, no one answered.
Lucifer searched the faces of his men, then pointed to a man at the back of the room. “Come here,” he commanded, with a twitch of his finger.
Balaam came forward and bowed, his lips trembling, his eyes wide in awe.
“Will you do something for me?” Lucifer asked as he placed his hand on Balaam’s shoulder.
Balaam nodded eagerly.
“Will you lie for me?” Lucifer asked him.
“Sir, I already have.”
“Would you give up anything?”
“You know that I will.”
Lucifer smiled, then bent over and whispered in Balaam’s ear.
Chapter Nine
Ammon left the park, which was now empty, and walked the long, deserted streets. It was dark now, and the pavement, wide and beautifully inlaid with precious metal and fine stones, rolled with high water from the sudden downpour, the rainwater running like a small river along the edge of the street. Overhead, the clouds remained dark and roiling, though the rain had slowed to a drizzle, hardly more than a mist in the air. Lightning flashed in the distance, way beyond in the east, too far away for the sound of the thunder to carry, but close enough to flicker in the night. Somewhere in the heavens the moon hung in the night, bright and white and so close it covered nearly a fourth of the sky, but it was blotted out behind the thick bank of clouds.
Ammon walked slowly and stared at his feet.
Everything was different. The city had changed.
He had not been there for a long time, not since he was a child, but he could see that the buildings were taller and much closer together. Every available space had been crammed with a structure of some kind, most of them plain and quickly built, the craftsmanship shoddy, the architecture haphazard and of ignoble design. He noted the holes in the pavement and spreading cracks in the road. And there were other signs that the city was not what it used to be: a smell in the air he did not recognize, whispering voices, and bright neon lights, books in the storefronts he had not seen before, more people crammed into fewer buildings, but less activity on the streets, the faces less friendly, less open and content. A great shadow held the city. He could sense it. He could see it. He could feel it in the air. Approaching the corner, Ammon glanced to his right. A grassy park lay at the end of the block, the grass trampled into dirt by a hundred thousand stomping feet. Another park, another rally, another patch of dead grass. He glanced around him, looking for people. There were a couple of men down the street and a small woman on the corner, but other than that he was completely alone.
Ahead of him a young man stepped quickly out of a tall building, pushing back the heavy glass door and emerging into the night. He stood for a moment, glancing in both directions, then walked toward Ammon, a vacant and indifferent look in his eye. Passing by, the stranger whispered, “You don’t belong here.”
Ammon turned quickly. “What did you say?”
The stranger didn’t slow or look back, but walked on in silence, his shawl drawn around him, his shoulders hunched, his head down, his eyes on his feet.
“I don’t belong here!” Ammon repeated.
But neither did Sam. And yet here they were.
All Ammon wanted was to see Sam, to talk with him, even if just for a short time. He hadn’t come to drag him back. He couldn’t do that, for Sam, like everyone, had his moral agency. But Ammon needed to see him, to ask him, “Why? Why did you choose this? What opportunity have you found? What does this bring you? Don’t you miss your family?”
Ammon knew that none of Sam’s friends, not a single one, had chosen to follow Jehovah. And yet all of them at one time had been good, in some ways exceptional men–worthy, honorable, believing, and kind. But they had all made the wrong decision, and Ammon couldn’t understand why. And he couldn’t just accept it and go on with his life. He had to try to understand them or he would never find peace.
Ammon walked toward an intersection and came to a stop. He stood there a moment, wondering which way he should go.
* * *
Sam had always been a bit of a rebel, one of those who needed to push against the crowd. If others said walk, he would run; when they said stop, he would go; when his teachers explained the class rules, he would always ask why. From the time he was young, he was independent and free, the type of person all the other youth wanted to be around and the older folks admired for his talents and smile. A natural leader, he moved comfortably among a diverse circle of friends while remaining one step aloof, always keeping a part of his life to himself. He was extremely good-looking, lean, lanky, a bit of a curl in his hair, which he wore back in a small wave at the front of his head. And though he was clearly his own man and not one to be pulled by the crowd, he was also fiercely loyal to his family, and as protective of his younger brothers and sisters as any older brother could be.
Looking at it now, Ammon recognized the irony in the path Sam had chosen to walk, a path that was certain to relieve him of his agency, to reduce him to a slave, no longer unique, no longer able to choose, no freedom, no expression or thought, a slave to his master, only doing his will. For such a free spirit, it would prove a bitter hell.
Sam was enough older than Ammon that by the time Ammon could remember, Sam was in and out of the house, sometimes living on his own, sometimes with his family, sometimes with his
friends. Ammon’s earliest memory of his older brother was one afternoon when Sam came home from the university to visit during a summer break. Ammon remembered very clearly Sam racing into the huge summer home, accompanied by some friends, all of them excited and laughing, anxious to have some fun and relax. At a time when most people wore robes tied with multicolored sashes, or simple pantsuits that snapped in the front, Sam had taken to wearing white pullover shirts and long trousers with overcoats that reached to his knees. Ammon watched in amazement as he burst into the room, his dark hair curled back in that incredible wave, his teeth flashing constantly in a bright, friendly smile. Sam was so much larger than life, Ammon was almost afraid of him. He was such a powerful presence, so handsome and confident, smiling and laughing, his eyes sparkling and alive.
As Sam moved through the room, slapping shoulders, planting kisses, embracing his family and friends, Ammon pulled back, pressing against the nearest wall, wishing he could turn and run and hide down the hall. Then Sam saw his little brother and the bewildered look on his face and he stopped suddenly, holding up both of his hands. “Wait!” Sam exclaimed. “Who is this handsome lad? Could this be my baby brother? No! He’s too big. And look at those eyes! What an incredible face. Look at this angel. He is even more perfect than I remember!” Sam broke into a smile that seemed as bright as the sun. He took a step forward, but Ammon stepped back. Sam was simply too tall, too strong, and too beautiful.
Sam’s face softened as he studied the expression in his little brother’s eyes; then he fell to his knees, lowering himself to Ammon’s level, and slowly, almost tenderly, extended his arms. “Ammon, don’t you know me? I am your older brother,” he said. “I know I’ve been away a long time, and you have forgotten. But while you may not know me, I know all about you. I have watched you and loved you since the day you were born. And I have missed you so much. You are one of the reasons I had to come home. I had to see you, to measure you, to see how you’ve grown. So, please, don’t be frightened. I promise you, brother, I am your very best friend.”
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