Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ

by Brandon Messerschmidt

"What is that?" The Mahdi shouted to his advisors around him. "What is it doing?"

  None of his men had answers, of course. At the other end of the battlefield, the Mashiach was all too aware of what the deadly device was; what it was capable of doing. The machine's intentions, however, were a mystery even to her.

  Why had it come? What did it want?

  Cameron Jennings had told her that it was Darius who instructed him to gather the disciples. It was the machine that sought to bring them to Jerusalem to begin with. Perhaps his fear that their creation had been overtaken by a demonic force was well founded after all?

  Had this twenty-first century commando gathered the people here to destroy the lot of them? Was this to be the extinction event that wiped the stain of man from the planet Earth forever? A grisly end to a filthy race - through the means of a monster born at its own hand?

  If Darius were determined to exterminate all of the souls within the vicinity of the Temple Mount, there would no stopping him. The machine was impervious to nearly all implements of modern warfare, and even those weapons were absent in this anachronistic skirmish. There was certainly no means of generating an electro-magnetic pulse available to the last living representatives of the species. Suddenly, Darius was king - all that remained of man his subjects.

  The fight was still on pause, none among the combatants daring to move. Silence consumed the Mount as result, the faint crackling of the blaze in the distance the only noise to be heard. There was a slight whine audible to those nearby when Darius flexed a joint as well as a metallic ratcheting as it started to move. The sound chilled those gathered, each click telling a tale of might and invincibility.

  The machine stood at attention, shining arms catching the sun at its side. Its head swiveled slowly from side to side, the soldier surveying the world around him and calculating his strategy.

  People gasped as the monster took heavy and methodical steps forward, the ground shaking each time it was pounded by the titanium feet of the machine. It approached one of Ali Sabra's foot soldiers and took hold of the man by his left wrist.

  The man screamed in pain as the mechanical hand crushed his bones with vice-like pressure before grabbing his right wrist as well. As the man howled Darius quickly jerked, ripping the fighter's arms from their sockets and clean off of his torso. The machine dropped the limbs to the ground as though they were garbage and stepped over the bloodied stump of the man who now lay bellowing on the ground.

  Still, no one moved; they were terrified of the real-life Terminator and dared not capture his attention. Every soul on the Mount stood perfectly still, watching to see what the machine would do next.

  The Mahdi felt a spirit-crushing wave of defeat sweep over him as Darius simply walked by several members of the Mashiach's army. Through this act it became clear; the machine was after only Muslim targets.

  "Get out of there!" He cried to his people, causing a frenzy of screams as bodies fired into motion at warp speed.

  The defenders of Israel stepped out of the sudden rush of traffic, flattening themselves against walls wherever possible and assuming as low a profile as they could manage. Hundreds, maybe thousands of men and women of the Islamic faith charged like the bulls of Pamplona back towards Bridge Street. It looked as though a mosh-pit had broken out on the sacred land as they pushed and clawed at one another, hurdling over bodies of the fallen in their maddened haste.

  "He's on our side!" David exclaimed.

  The crowd became hard-pressed to move in the pandemonium, the bottleneck hindering their escape just as it had challenged them upon their insertion. Darius took advantage of the hold up, tossing men through the air like ragdolls in multiples as he tore through the masses towards the Mahdi.

  "Oh God!" Denisa cried as she watched him move. "He's after Ali Sabra!"

  The Mashiach inexplicably raised her bullhorn to her mouth, shouting warnings across the field.

  "Ibrahim!" She wailed, catching the man's attention. "It's coming for you! Go!"

  The Mahdi seemed puzzled and confused, looking up and down between the surge of people headed towards him fleeing the machine and the woman perched in her strategic crow's nest. He couldn't begin to understand what was happening, but it was clear to him that he did not want to be standing where he was when the furious cyborg reached the mouth of the Muslim Quarter.

  He spun around and hurled himself at the wall of people behind him, encouraging them to retreat as quickly as their feet would allow. The area was over congested, a riot unfolding as panic-stricken men and women ran, jumped and crawled for their lives. Ali Sabra pushed forward while occasionally looking back, seeing the devious creature closing in on him as it continued to kill and destroy.

  "They've given up!" David rejoiced. "It's driving them off!"

  "No..." The Mashiach returned. "It's chasing them down!"

  "You mean it won't stop when they've cleared the gate? Why?"

  "Because it's evil."

  Darius continued in its pursuit, ripping away limbs and flicking off heads like marbles along the way. A few brave souls tried to stand firm in the face of the assault, but their efforts were futile and they were dispatched with ease. The machine shook them off like fleas, continuing in this wholesale slaughter and killing people as they ran in fear.

  "Well --" David began. "Can't we -- turn it off somehow?"

  Denisa shook her head, longing to shield her eyes from the wanton bloodshed of the massacre committed in the name of her people.

  "Sooooo -- what do we do?"

  Again, the Mashiach simply shook her head. The outlook was grim, at least for the army of Islam. The victory would be hollow for Denisa and her followers, if they were allowed to survive.

  The Holocaust had educated the Jewish people to the horrors of genocide. Despite their differences with the Arab world, they could condone no such atrocity against any race of people. Denisa knew that an urge to act was likely building in the hearts of her followers, just as it was in her... but, knowing what she knew about Darius, there was no conceivable way she could order them into action against him.

  "Jesus Christ!" David whined suddenly as he beheld an unbelievable sight. "He's fucking crazy!"

  To his amazement, Creeper had risen from the ground and was hobbling towards the machine. He gave Washington a telling nod as he moved, sneaking quietly into position behind the robot.

  Commander Washington summoned all the courage of Mamba and moved into place opposite Matea in the field. When it was ready, Creeper put his plan into action. He wound up and kicked the machine squarely in its posterior, Darius spinning around suddenly at the impact.

  "What goes up -- must come down." He taunted defiantly.

  The android threw a deadly punch into Creeper's stomach, its titanium hand passing clear through the man and emerging from his back. Sounds of death came involuntarily, but the soldier had one last breath saved up -- to be used to deliver a parting line he was intent on speaking with a pained grin.

  "Ride a painted pony -- bitch!"

  Washington growled as he leapt upon the machine, mounting the robot's back and holding on for dear life with his one good arm as Darius fought to shake him loose. His grip was tight, however, so the machine simply decided to continue and carried on his way while the man tried desperately to disable the beast.

  The Mahdi was moving well, still peaking back every so often to check on the progress of his stalker. He saw the Commander fighting it valiantly but didn't understand his motivation. Just moments ago Ali Sabra would've killed the man if he had the chance to do so; the notion of his attempting to protect his antagonist made no sense at all.

  A gust of wind stopped the rushing crowd suddenly, the gale having pushed the wall of fire further into the Muslim Quarter. The Mahdi forced his way to the front, putting on the brakes when he felt his mustache singed by an incredible heat.

  Michelle and her husband Terry had stealthily retr
eated back to the Dome Of The Rock and kept low to the ground at its side. Televisions had been technological marvels in their day; this device was simply ungodly in its space-age design.

  "What in God's name?" Michelle wondered aloud.

  "I haven't the slightest." Her husband returned as he looked towards the Well Of Souls. "I think I should get Father Jennings!"

  Commander Washington continued to ride the raging bull, pulling at every exposed bit of wire and piece of soft tissue he could find on the surface of the machine. His efforts seemed in vain as Darius simply plugged along, savage in his murderous rage.

  A breath of resignation blew through the lips of the Mahdi. He stood face to face with an impenetrable inferno as the sounds of death drew ever closer behind him. Opening his palm he touched the blaze, considering diving in as a last resort. He recoiled at the searing pain, the flames burning blue where his flesh had touched. There was no escaping his fate; he had apparently been betrayed by the being known as Christ. He was filled with regret and shame as he closed his eyes, preparing himself for the death that was sure to come in moments.

  Darius was well clear of the Mount and barreling forward, towards the fire where Ali Sabra stood trapped. The Commander still rode him like an expert jockey, though he realized the cause was lost.

  The Mahdi called upon Allah for strength and turned to meet his end. He locked eyes with the man who had been assigned to kill him so long ago as he now worked in vain to spare his life. In their moment of connection Ali Sabra thanked the blessed soul with a smile that he would surely understand. Looking to the sky he cried out the words he wished to die by; the same as those by which he had attempted to live, though the proper means had sometimes escaped him.

  "Allhu Akbar!"

  Taking its final steps toward the target, Darius suddenly flinched. The Commander was bucked off in the motion, flying through the air and careening towards the flames. Ali Sabra let loose a furious howl as he dove into the soldier's trajectory, using his body to stop the momentum just before Washington would've been cast asunder.

  The machine stood silent; frozen in its place. A hush fell over the masses once more, confusion holding them in suspense as they wondered what had happened.

  "You son of a bitch!" Terry Jackson admonished as he struggled up the stairs from the Well of Souls.

  As he emerged it became clear that he was physically dragging Cameron Jennings from the cave. Denisa could see why immediately; the preacher was wearing the servo-suit last donned by a man called Aviram.

  Once clear of the stairs Terry threw the priest to the ground unceremoniously. Stopping beside him, he held the virtual-reality helmet that accompanied the suit high into the air -- for all to see.

  "He was controlling it!" He shouted. "It was he who stabbed these people in their backs!"

  A deafening condemnation rose from the crowd, Michelle reminded of the spectators at the Blood Fountain by the tone in which they clamored for his life.

  Commander Washington moaned in pain as he tried to stand. He was light-headed from the incredible loss of blood he'd suffered, nearly losing his balance in the shadow of the blaze. The Mahdi saw him stumbling and immediately moved to support him. Examining the massive laceration on the soldiers arm, Ali Sabra spontaneously tore a patch of fabric from his robe and tied it as a tourniquet at Washington's shoulder.

  "Wait!" Denisa shouted over cries of kill the priest.

  The people did not oblige - they were steadfast in their demand. A ring of humanity closed in around the man, Terry still waiving the helmet in the air above him. The preacher crawled along the ground, moving to the other side of the crow’s nest and finding himself cornered against the Western wall.

  "Please!" Jennings begged. "I was only trying to help!"

  His words not a satisfactory penance, the mob continued their approach. They took up the swords that had been abandoned in the exodus before and held them high, a look of evil burning in their eyes.

  "No!" He cried again as the assassins drew closer. "No! God -- please, forgive me! Help me!"

  As though commanded by the preacher, Darius suddenly sprang back to life amidst horrific screams. Washington and Ali Sabra curdled at its movement, defeat suddenly sneaking up from behind and robbing them of the chance to survive. To their surprise, though, the machine turned away from them and moved back towards the Temple Mount.

  The field of Islamic men and women parted around it as it simply walked on - paying them no further mind. The mob of Israelites around Jennings, however, behaved like a pack of wild dogs presented with a juicy steak to share among them. They taunted him endlessly, thrusting blades towards him as though to run him through only to pull back at the last second and verbally berate him some more. They were blissfully unaware in their distraction that Darius was approaching; his eyes now set on them.

  The machine set foot on the sacred mount once more and was confronted by the backsides of the uprising. It set to work again, breaking their necks silently with even more ferocity than it had when the preacher was at the helm.

  The mob as well as David and Denisa had their backs to Bridge street and were oblivious to the action despite the shouting of the Arabs, which couldn't be heard over the tumult. One of the attackers pulled back and delivered a vicious chop with his blade, severing the preacher's left foot just above the ankle. His torment was met with bloodthirsty cheers as the crowd grew more incensed.

  "Stop it!" A shrill cry shattered the din, Michelle Jackson jumping into the lion's pit and standing over the fallen priest. "Stop it right now!" She ordered, flailing her arms all about.

  At the back of the pack, Darius was cleaning house. None of those positioned there anticipated his strike until they felt the blood of the men behind them spatter on their backs, and at that point it was far too late.

  "Damn you, that's enough!" The woman's intense sincerity quieted the crowd. She scolded those gathered as she would one of her children, her authority going unquestioned by the naughty boys and girls. "What's wrong with you people? Don't you see what you've become? You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Haven't we had enough killing? How many must die before your appetite is satisfied?"

  The faces of the mob now resembled those of pitifully sorry puppies admonished for going on the carpet. The warnings of creeping death being shouted by the Muslims from the rear seemed to go unheard as though cut silent in transit to the target's ears. As result, Darius was able to continue moving towards the spectacle in the round; undetected as he claimed more and more lives.

  "This man has begged forgiveness!" Michelle continued. "Who do you think you are to deny it to him? If anything - he should be regarded as a hero! Why? It's simple... through his transgression he has reminded you of your humanity! When that -- that thing was doing such evil things at his command, you re-discovered your sense of empathy! For that brief moment in time you didn't see its victims as Muslims, nor yourselves as Jews or Christians... for just a second - just one fleeting second; you saw them as people! As fellow children of God! It's that compassion that separates us from the animals... that bit of the Lord within us all! If we lose sight of that -- well, it makes me wonder... what makes life worth living? What makes Man worth saving?"

  The sermon was cut short by a soul-shuddering scream, somehow audible to them now though it hadn't been before. The hoard split down the center, revealing the blood-covered machine standing in its midst.

  It focused on Michelle, bypassing all the others to approach her and the one-eyed one-footed priest on the ground. The old woman stood her ground, hovering over Jennings with resolve and the power of good will churning in her soul. Darius stopped within arm's reach and looked her over, then turned its attention to the one some called anti-Christ.

  Michelle was unfazed, staring intently into the face of the machine as she gave a solemn warning.

  "If you want him -- you'll have to get passed me."

&n
bsp; Suddenly the Mount was bathed in white, a flash opening something in the sky above. All of mankind looked up, shielding their eyes from the incredible beam of light. Even the machine took note, turnings its robotic gaze to the glowing clouds above.

  A small girl emerged, descending on a staircase unseen, one tiny step at a time. She seemed to glow with transparency in the arms of the sky, smiling as she greeted the crowd from thousands of feet above.

  "Heavenly God!" Jennings exclaimed in a whisper. "It's Hope!"

  More figures emerged behind her, notably those of her mother Carmen and father Raymond. They were followed by countless others; an army of angels unto their own returning to Earth from the kingdom of God.

  Hope was half way to the surface, the line stretching far behind her, when she waived with glee to Michelle Jackson.

  "Hi there, little angel!" Michelle said as she returned the salutation.

  The masses smiled and chuckled in wonder, pointing at the divine beings materializing before their eyes. Ali Sabra was beaming, shaking Commander Washington in his joy.

  "Whoa! Whoa!" The Commander cried, wincing at the pain that sudden movement caused.

  David reached out over the crest of the crow's nest, longing to touch one of the many that came down towards him. Darius seemed struck as well - though it certainly wasn't possible. He didn't move a gyro outside of those in his neck as he followed Hope's descent.

  The girl touched down with grace, seeming to hover just above the surface of the sacred land. She strolled playfully over to Michelle and tapped at her side, beckoning her to bend down so that she could whisper into the woman's ear.

  "Yes!" Michelle giggled. "Yes, I agree!"

  Hope looked at Jennings, covering her mouth to hide her crooked teeth as she chuckled as well.

  "It's okay, Father Jennings!" She said warmly with innocence. "I've got a big surprise for you!"

  "What?" The preacher asked aghast. "What is it, darling Hope?"

  "It's the twelfth disciple!"

  The girl looked to the Western wall, at the fire that danced just atop it now. Her eyes sparkled and glimmered in the light as she called into the blaze.

  "Uncle Jim, Uncle Jim!" She chirped. "Time to come out now!"

  Suddenly the flames parted revealing another ghostly figure beyond. He was lean in stature; his hair a shining silver neatly groomed around his head. He looked majestic in the glow, an air of brilliance exuding from his aura.

  "Walker!" Denisa exclaimed at the sight of a familiar face.

  The father of the machine called Darius captivated the attention of the crowd as he floated down gently from his perch. Jennings broke down, sorrowful tears streaming from his eyes like water through a hole in a massive dike.

  Darius cocked its head, almost looking as though he recognized the man as well. The essence of the scientist walked towards his mechanical son with a sparkle of his own showing in his eye. He approached it slowly, taking in every inch of the marvel that was its body.

  "It's over now, Darius." He said, extending his upturned palms.

  The machine took notice, examining its own titanium digits with the wonder of a child and gently laying them into the waiting grasp of its creator.

  "It's time to sleep now, son." He continued.

  Darius nodded as though with remorse as Jim Walker leaned forward. He puckered his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon the shiny surface of the machine's cheek, the flickering lights across its body fading and falling dark. Its arms went limp, its head drooping forward as it clearly ceased to be.

  Walker seemed heartbroken as he turned away from the machine. He made direct eye contact with Jennings for the first time, stepping towards the physical body of the man who had taken his life.

  "It's done, old friend." The apparition explained. "Man is redeemed -- the world born anew."

  Jennings was uncertain, though not afraid of what might come next. He flinched by force of instinct when Walker reached down towards him. The spirit's touch was electrifying, sending a charge though the preacher's body. For a being of no real substance, the ghost of Walker was quite strong. He pulled the preacher up, supporting him as he hobbled on his one remaining foot.

  "Jim --" Cameron started, putting his hand over his heart. "I'm so incredibly sorry..."

  "It's okay." Walker smiled. "I understand!" His demeanor was comforting, the light of God seeming to shine from his heavenly soul. "I forgive you, Cameron..."

  Jennings wailed in relief and inner-pain, the weight of all he'd done crashing to his shoulders despite the words of consolation that were spoken.

  "I wish I could take it back, Jim!" He insisted. "I wish I could take it all back... I've been such a fool!"

  "The truth is," Walker continued, his tone somewhat somber now. "I'm sorry too -- because, unfortunately, I can't fix it."

  "Fix what?" Jennings asked in his shaking voice. "My soul? Will I be condemned to Hell? I deserve as much, Jim, there's no need for your apology. I am comfortable in accepting that condemnation - for all my Earthly sins."

  "Noooooo..." The man explained, smiling once again. "I was talking about your foot!"

  Hope Sutter stole the scene, rising from the ground and floating to the summit of the Dome Of The Rock. She held her outstretched palm just below her mouth and blew a magical puff as she spun around in place. As her breath hit the ring of fire it was extinguished immediately, revealing bare green pastures as far as the eye could see.

  After studying the landscape for a moment, she took to flight again, rising high into the sky with her arms spread wide at her sides. The army of the dead followed suit, Walker the last to ascend as he looked down upon the masses with a smile.

  The people were left breathless; the sun emerging from its hiding as the overcast heavens cleared to a brilliant sapphire blue. Darius stayed behind, frozen where he stood.

  There was a momentary silence amongst the many, all grinning ear to ear as the world looked fresh around them.

  "Soooo..." David finally started. "What are we supposed to do now?"

  "Well," Denisa replied. "I guess we should start by rebuilding... that should keep us busy for quite a while, I imagine."

  "What've you got planned?" He asked, seeming nervous.

  "We'll need houses, I suppose." She answered. "Farms, a water and sewer system -- probably a school, sooner than later, for all the kids... "

  "Wait --" He jumped in. "You're talking about tomorrow."

  "Of course I am -- what are you talking about?"

  "I meant for dinner... tonight..."

  The Mashiach broke into a fit of laughter, covering her mouth as Hope had in her shyness.

  "David Sparks," She smiled. "Are you asking me on a date?"

  "I don't have reservations anywhere." He returned. "But I imagine we can find someplace with a free table."

  Terry Jackson approached his wife, shaking his head as though he disapproved.

  "What, T.J.?" She asked, puzzled at his gesture.

  "You're a crazy old woman, Mocha." He answered. "If I didn't love you so much I'd run away."

  His wife extended her arms, drawing him in for a hug.

  "Come here, you old fool!"

  "I'm sorry, Michelle." He said as they embraced tightly."

  "For what, honey?"

  "For being such a miserable excuse for a husband." He sobbed. "After my accident I melted down; I didn't know how to live anymore. I put too much on you... I'm afraid I let you down."

  "You never let me down, T.J." She explained. "We all carry chains through life; some of us are charged with more than we can handle. When that happens, it's up to the people who love us to help bare the load. I love you, Terry Jackson... your chains never became too much of a burden to me! Your company was worth the struggle, T.J.!"

  The Mahdi supported Commander Washington as they slowly made their way through the crowd. Neither could articulate the strange bond t
hat now joined them, but both knew it was strong... not likely to fade with time.

  "I still can't believe you got away from me back in Afghanistan." Mamba said with disappointment. "No one ever gets away from me!"

  "I should've killed you when I had the chance." Ali Sabra joked. "I could've spared you all this suffering."

  "You couldn't have if you tried!" Washington declared. "I've still got work to do!"

  "What sort of work is that which a virtual cripple can perform?"

  "Nana tells me I have to build a church... one for everybody out here..."

  "And just where do you figure you'll do that?"

  "Look around, Ibrahim... there's nothing but virgin land around. I think I'll find a spot."

  "Don't bother." The Mahdi suggested. "I've got the perfect place picked out."

  "Oh yeah? Where exactly is that?" He asked.

  "Right here." The Mahdi replied.

  "What? On the Temple Mount?"

  "Of course! And I'm going to help you build it!"

  ...and so began a new day, ushered in by the glorious songs of birds on the horizon. Mankind was born again - set free to dance and frolic as they do; in the warmth of the glowing sun, in the peaceful fields of God.

  Chapter 39