Infinite Testament

by Greg Ness

DING. The bell sounded, signaling the end of class. Too bad. They were just about to make some real progress. Bruce watched as the students filed out. It was time for recess.

  Bruce sat behind his desk and kicked up his feet. This was not the life he had envisioned for himself. He wouldn’t have ever believed he’d be back teaching at the very grade school he grew up in. It was the same school where he met Stephen. The same school where he became rivals with Mr. Ixley. Ironic. But what else would he do with a philosophy major? Big corporations didn’t exactly come knocking on the doors of philosophy majors.

  There was a knocking at his door. It was Chad Kane. The principal. Vince’s brother. Bruce’s rival. No matter how old Bruce was, he just couldn’t get along with principals. Chad was a heavy-set man, not overly obese, but he packed on the pounds. He hadn’t exactly taken care of himself since his college football days at Michigan State. His bald head shined and illuminated the room. It blinded Bruce as he entered.

  “What can I help you with?” Bruce asked.

  “What’s all this philosophical nonsense you’re teaching in class?” he asked with that stupid voice of his.

  “I’m enlightening the kids.”

  “Can’t you just stick to the curriculum?”

  “I can,” Bruce replied, “But I haven’t.”

  Chad’s lips pursed in disapproval. “And that’s the problem. Start sticking to it.”

  Bruce pulled his feet off the desk. “Yes sir,” he replied with irreverence.

  Chad was about to leave. But he needed to stick in just a few jabs. “Ixley isn’t with the school board anymore. We have no loyalty to you, Bruce.”

  “You mean Mr. Ixley.”

  Chad raised his voice, “It doesn’t matter! Stick to the course plan or you’re outta here! The kids don’t need to learn that useless blather!”

  Bruce turned his chair toward Chad. “I must respectfully disagree with you, Chad. It isn’t useless. Someday, maybe, you will be forced to think about something deeper than what sandwich you’re going to devour next. And I hope to be there for that.”

  Chad shook his head in disgust. “Sure Bruce. Just make sure to pick up your mischief maker son from detention after school today.”

  Mikey was always at odds with the principal and couldn’t keep himself out of trouble.

  Like father, like son.

  Deep under the confines of the Russell Corporation headquarters, Bruce stood in a dark hallway with X and another of his disciples, John. They garbed their mandated blue robes, with the hoods off resting on their backs. The lights above them were eerily dim. To Bruce, the whole underground meeting place was downright creepy. Everything was metallic: the walls, the doors, and the random poles sprawled throughout. Every room of the massive facility looked the same.

  X asked, “How is the progress on the Keres?”

  John, one of the disciples, cautiously muttered, “Some of the other disciples are starting to wonder what the point of startin’ over is.”

  John was a feeble old man, well into his seventies. He was one of the old-timers who was a part of the forest group Bruce and Stephen terrorized with firecrackers years ago. John’s body was littered with tattoos, most of them religious in nature. A cross was imprinted on his shoulder and several bible verses were scrawled on his back. John was arguably the most dangerous disciple among the twelve. He was known for his short temper and often puzzling decision making.

  X responded, “They question the will of God?”

  John scowled. “It ain’t that. They been workin’ hard. Dealing with things they ain’t never seen before. They ain’t gonna keep goin’ without an explanation.”

  X stoically stared at John and gripped his staff. It was always tempting to use, but he seldom did. X stated, “God has given every man the ability to choose good or evil in their lives. We have chosen good. Tell the disciples we are allowing the rest of the world to make that choice.”

  Bruce was confused. How did that make sense?

  X continued, “I once knew for a short time the man who is spreading the lies.”

  John seethed through his teeth, “And who is that?”

  “Stephen Pandora.”

  Stephen’s name smacked Bruce right in the face. He didn’t expect to hear X utter it.

  Bruce asked, “Stephen Pandora?”

  “Always so curious,” X said with a hint of suspicion. He leaned in to Bruce. “You’re so much smarter than the rest of them. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

  Bruce had instant reason for concern. It wasn’t necessarily safe to be alone with X at any time. John seethed as X led Bruce away.

  They walked down a long circular corridor that looked like a cramped sewer tunnel. The corridors connected all the rooms of the underground base and at the end of the hallway was the infamous Keres, the super-weapon that would soon hold the capability to destroy the world. The corridor was dark and desolate, with sparsely few light bulbs providing glimpses of light. Their voices echoed as they spoke.

  Bruce asked, “Is there somewhere in particular we’re going?”

  “We’re going for a walk,” X replied.

  Great. The king of the obvious.

  “You know Bruce, I am simply a messenger. A prophet. The modern day John the Baptist. I am just paving the way for Him.”

  “Of course,” Bruce answered reverently.

  “There is an angel that tells me what to do. He has been instructing me and overseeing the Keres. Truthfully, I too sometimes worry about getting to start over and changing our lives. But I have faith. Faith that God will grant us our Free Will.”

  Bruce didn’t know if they were doomed to repeat their lives. But if Stephen said that was the case, then that’s what Bruce believed. Free Will or not.

  X reached a door. It was infinitely strong, the only one of its kind in the corridor. X taking him into that room was worrisome. There was no getting in or out if it was locked. None of the disciples had ever been in this room. X had strictly forbidden it. Nonetheless, X and Bruce entered.

  Bruce was stunned when he saw the details of the room. The ceilings shot high above and in front of him was a steel wall that spanned the height of the room. Embedded on the steel wall was a giant logo he’d come to know well: an X with a circle around it. It towered over Bruce. Beneath it was another steel door.

  “Where’s the door go?”

  “Just another one of the corridors,” X replied.

  Bruce wandered around the room. As he neared the giant X, he noticed another familiar sight. On the ground was another X circle. It looked just like the X formation he found in the forest. It was just about the same size. Only this formation was full of water; the X was submerged.

  X proclaimed, “This room is where I speak to the angel.”

  Bruce took his eyes off the X formation and turned toward X. It was strange how much X trusted him. Big mistake. Bruce had noticed every opportunity he had to kill him. If Bruce was quick enough, he could probably reach X’s staff. Even if he didn’t reach it, he was confident he could take him down. Unfortunately, he wasn’t supposed to. Not just yet.

  A loud skirmish rang out from down the corridor. X and Bruce heard the raspy sound of screaming. Without hesitation, they both exited the sacred X room and sprinted down the corridor to get in on the action. They approached the large, wide-open dome-room.

  There, they spotted disciples Chad Kane and John struggling with an outsider. Chad held Mikey in a headlock. Mikey was wearing a backwards baseball hat and looked at Bruce, terrified. John held a knife, eager to use it. Chad yelled, “Fortuitous, isn’t it Bruce?”

  “Just let him go, Chad,” Bruce said calmly, trying to convince his boss at school not to do anything rash.

  John salivated. “Let me kill the nigger!” He gripped his knife with a frightening desire to jab it into Mikey’s skin.

  X asked, “What is going on here?”

  “We found him snoopin’ around!” Chad yelled, managing to subdue a struggling Mikey.r />
  Mikey yelled, “Dad, help me!”

  X stumbled with surprise. “Dad?”

  “He’s my son. Just let him go and he’ll forget all about this.”

  X rebutted, “We can’t trust him to stay quiet.”

  “Then make him a god damned disciple!”

  X, Chad, and John fell silent. It wasn’t because of his suggestion to make Mikey a disciple. They fell quiet because Bruce used God’s name in vain.

  X digressed, “We can only have twelve. You know that, Bruce.”

  Chad loosened his grip on Mikey and shoved him to John, who delightfully put his knife to Mikey’s neck. Mikey stood still and extended his neck, hoping John wouldn’t kill him.

  “Alright, stop!!!” Bruce yelled. He needed to calm John down or Mikey was dead. Bruce was desperate. He couldn’t lose his son.

  Bruce said, “What would Jesus do, John?”

  “God don’t love niggers,” he shot back. His hand yanked Mikey’s head back, leaving his neck exposed.

  X spoke up. “John, stop.”

  John had no choice. He obeyed, halting his hand that was struggling to not slice Mikey open. He wanted to kill him. His conflicted eyes begged X to allow him to continue. “Please, X. Let me do it.”

  X shook his head. No. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Bruce approached John. “Let him go, John. X has spoken.”

  John reluctantly released Mikey, who darted away from him as fast as he could. As Bruce neared John, he opened his hand. “Give me the knife.”

  “Stupid nigger,” John mumbled as he held out his hand and offered the knife for Bruce to take.

  In a flash, Bruce gripped John’s extended hand. He twisted John’s wrist and shattered it in an unsustainable direction. The bones crunched as they split in pieces. Bruce twisted John’s arm behind his body.

  “Close your eyes Mikey!”

  Bruce kicked out John’s feet from under him. Since Bruce had a hold of his arm, John couldn’t break his fall. He smashed to the ground and banged his face against the steel surface. Bruce grabbed the knife from the floor and thrust the blade into John’s neck. Bruce could feel the crunchy collapse under the force of the blade.

  John, wide-eyed, didn’t know what hit him. Bruce maneuvered so quickly, there was no way he could. With a knife sticking out of his neck, John spit blood from his mouth and awaited death. As hard as he tried to allow air into his lungs, it couldn’t get past his collapsed trachea. Mikey looked in horror at the sight of a man he didn’t know steadily losing his life. He had seen violence before, but never so graphic, and never by the hands of someone he loved. Mikey looked nervously at his dad.

  Bruce yanked the bloody knife out of John’s neck and rose from his body. He stared at Chad, who looked back fearfully. Bruce had never seen so much terror in Chad’s eyes. Bruce scowled and took a step toward him, prompting him to run away. Coward.

  Bruce had the look of a madman. His eyes were deep and his back was hunched. There wasn’t a person in the world who wouldn’t be afraid. X smiled. And started to clap. “That’s why I like you Bruce!”

  Bruce was not amused. He didn’t want to kill John. But if he didn’t, then Mikey was as good as dead. Either by John’s hands or X’s.

  “Now we have room for a twelfth,” Bruce declared. He tossed the knife away and it skidded across the metal floor. He turned toward his frightened son and comforted him with a hug.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything,” he whispered into Mikey’s ear.

  Tonight was the night Mikey became a disciple.

  29

  Having Mikey in the cult was a disaster. Subjecting him to such a bizarre group of people was not what Bruce wanted for his son, but there wasn’t any other choice. Bruce let him in on everything, and truthfully, it was nice to have a partner. If anyone could be unfazed by the craziness of it all, it was Mikey.

  It was an entire year before the plan to take down X would go into motion. Bruce and Mikey were at home. Bruce sat on a chair in the living room while Mikey sat on the floor and furiously pushed buttons on a video game controller. They attempted to live as normally as they could without thinking about their secret lives. Bruce read the newspaper, whose headline read “Half-Billion Suicides Since The ILD”. Poor Stephen. Bruce tried to warn him. Stephen agreed to keep the ILD findings under wraps, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. Stephen must’ve felt an enormous amount of guilt. But he shouldn’t, Bruce surmised.

  The doorbell rang. DING DONG. Mikey didn’t flinch. He kept on with his videogames. “Mikey, grab the door, will ya?”

  No response. Bruce lowered his newspaper. “Hey Mikey! Go get the door! And turn your hat around!” Mikey flipped his hat forward and reluctantly stepped away from his videogames.

  Mikey flung the door open. There was no one there. But at his feet sat a shipping box. Mikey picked it up and read the label. Bruce Dennett. “It’s for you Dad.” Mikey carried the box and put it on the kitchen counter.

  “Bring it over here!” Bruce yelled, still confined to his chair.

  Mikey reentered the family room. There was no box in his hand.

  “Damnit Mikey!” Bruce relented and went to the kitchen. The box sat, waiting for him on the counter. He had no idea what it could be or who could’ve sent it. The return address in the top left corner of the box was left blank. Bruce tore open the box.

  When he looked inside, he knew it came from Stephen.

  The ELPIS box rested inside.

  A young blonde girl frolicked outside. She looked to be about 6 years old and had the most beautiful, entrancing blue eyes. There was a bright, innocent smile on her face as she ran through a forest of multi-colored plants. There were bright purple bushes that towered above her and yellow weeds sprawled below her feet. There were palm trees that literally sparkled with a red twinkle. It was an enchanting place. A Garden of Eden. Free of worries. Free of responsibility.

  It was over 3,000 years ago.

  The girl approached an open, multi-colored field. To her young eyes, the rainbow-colored tall grass seemed to extend forever. It was endless spectacle of blue, green, and all the colors in between ruffling with the wind. “He’ll never find me in there,” she said to herself, giggling. She sprinted into the field. Her little legs propelled her as tall grass whizzed by. The color of the grass cycled as she ran by. It was like running through a rainbow. When she found a patch of blue grass, she knelt down. And listened. Was he anywhere near? The wind blew past, whistling in her ear. The grass collided with each other, providing a gentle smacking sound. It was quiet enough: no footsteps.

  The blonde girl stood up and leapt into the air. For the split second her eyes were above the grass, she saw nothing but the forest. She landed on her feet. And tried again, leaping into the air. Nothing. She leapt. And leapt. And leapt. Still nothing. One last try! She leapt again. There he was! In the distance! He was holding something in his hand but she couldn’t tell what it was.

  “Hey Moros!” She yelled.

  Moros turned his head toward the grass. He was small, and like the blonde girl, only appeared to be around 6 years old. He maintained a strong jawbone and even as a young boy, was strikingly handsome. “Where are you?” he yelled back with his high-pitched voice.

  “You’ll never find me!”

  “I got you something!” Moros countered. He waited. Surely that would pique her interest. But no answer.

  Moros ran into the tall grass. He passed several colors as he ran through looking for his friend. He stopped, remembering her favorite color was blue. If he just found some blue grass he would probably find her.

  The blonde girl knelt down, holding her breath as to not give away her location. She listened attentively. If Moros came running, she would definitely hear him.

  Moros whispered in her ear, “I got you something.”

  The girl jumped in surprise and soared to her feet. “How did you find me?!”

  Moros pointed to the blue grass waving behind her. “Your
favorite color!”

  The girl laughed. “Soooo….”

  Moros held his hands behind his back and tilted his head forward. “So?”

  “What did you get me?”

  Moros smiled, revealing his perfectly white teeth.

  “Come on, show me!”

  “I made it for you,” Moros said. “You’re my best friend.” Moros pulled his hands from behind his back and revealed what he had made: a perfectly, well-constructed, small wooden box with the word ELPIS carved on top. “I carved your name on it!”

  Elpis, the blonde girl, smiled as she accepted Moros’s gift. She unlatched the hook that kept the box shut. Elpis opened it. It was empty. “There’s nothing in it,” she observed.

  “You can put whatever you want in it.”

  Elpis looked in the box, wondering what she would put inside. Something important. Anything less wouldn’t do justice to Moros’s generous gift. She closed the box.

  “I love it.”

  Elpis stared deep into Moros’s bright blue eyes. “You’re my best friend too, Moros.” She looked at the box. Her fingers rubbed over her carved name. ELPIS. She traced the letters. It must’ve taken him forever to make.

  “I like you.”

  “I like you too.”

  Elpis threw her arms around Moros and hugged him snuggly. She rubbed her nose into his shoulder. Moros hugged back. There was nowhere else they would rather be; they were in love.

  Bruce pulled the ELPIS box out of its packaging. He had no idea why Stephen returned it to him. Nonetheless, he unlatched it. Just to make sure. He opened it and looked inside. Yep. They were still inside.

  Bruce shut the box. He would put it somewhere safe, hidden from Mikey and Kristen.

  Bruce didn’t know how to take the fact that Stephen mailed him the box.

  Poor Stephen.

  30

  It was late at night and tomorrow was the day Bruce and Mikey were going to destroy X and his cult. In the bedroom, a dim white light from the moon allowed Bruce to watch over a sleeping Kristen. He sat at the edge of the bed while she was tucked away in dreamland. She was serene, unaware of Bruce’s secret life. Despite her endless attempts to get him to open up, he resisted.