“But he knows Elijah is on our side now,” Naomi said.
“Nah.” Ronaldo shook his head, dreadlocks swinging. “It ain’t that simple. Just ’cuz he knows Elijah joined us don’t mean it’s finished. This battle for souls goes to the last day. Ya know the story of the wheat and the weeds?”
“No,” I said.
Ronaldo smiled. “Listen, Jesus said the kingdom of heaven is like a man who planted good seed in his field, but while his men were sleeping, his enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat and went away. So when the plants grew, the weeds grew too. The master told his servants to let both grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time he’d tell the reapers: gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn. Ya get that?”
“I think so,” I said. “The enemy is the devil?”
“Sure is. The harvest is comin’ any day now. I figure the reapers are God’s angels. The weeds are whoever goes to the evil one. So maybe you’re wheat, Elijah, but the devil wants ya to be a weed. We can’t know for sure until the harvest.”
“This has to be a trap,” Naomi said. “It makes no sense for Elijah to waltz into it and sync with Don’s machine.”
“I ain’t so sure. The devil sets traps everywhere he goes, but he controls only as much as God lets him. Maybe there’s a trap within a trap. What the devil seeks for evil, God can use for good. Elijah, what ya seen or heard from the Lord?”
The words I remembered calmed my feverish mind. “You know what I heard before Don caught us, right? About speaking to the world.”
Ronaldo nodded.
“The only thing since then is that I should trust and wait. And I keep having dreams about my Mom taking me to the dragon in Jerusalem and about a huge, blazing fire coming to burn up the world.”
“Hmm, trust and wait.” Ronaldo leaned forward and rested his shackled hands on his knees. “Ya better get comfortable. You’re reborn, Elijah, but as newborn as this baby.” He motioned to Naomi’s son, still sleeping soundly. “We drink milk before we’re ready for the real food of the spirit. We gonna wait here as long as it takes. Let’s pray.”
Naomi put her hand on my knee and met my eyes. “Jesus said, where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am with them.”
“Even in a prison cell?” I said. “Shouldn’t we try to get you out of these chains?”
Ronaldo shook his head. “We gotta pray. Ready?”
Naomi nodded and closed her eyes. I did the same.
“Lord Jesus Christ,” Ronaldo began, speaking with a slow cadence, “we gather in your name, seeking ya even here, in the enemy’s home. Only your light can pierce darkness this thick. Be with us, speak to us. Lord, we listenin’ ….”
His voice trailed off and left the sound of silence. I listened carefully, grasping for hope that I’d hear something. I could hear Ronaldo and Naomi and the baby breathing. I could hear my own deep breaths. That was it. Time ticked by like water from a slowly dripping faucet.
After a while, Ronaldo started murmuring something under this breath. I couldn’t make out the words, but he sounded intense. I adjusted my weight, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground.
Then I heard the sound of sliding metal.
DON WAS STRIDING in, looking everything like a president and nothing like a devil. “I see you’ve found each other.” He leaned against the prison cell’s wall.
Ronaldo surged to his feet, but Don silenced us with a raised hand. “The battle is going well. The Muslims have their backs against the wall in Tehran. We surround the city. The Mahdi’s last stand will be any day now, and what a last stand! These people truly believe they can defeat me. They won’t surrender. Every last one of them will die.” Don straightened his tie casually. “Eli, you passed your training. Well done. You will join me tomorrow.”
“He’s not your pawn,” Naomi said.
Don’s gaze swiveled to her. “The mother of my son speaks.” She squirmed under his stare. Her face went pale, lips pressed together in a thin line.
“But of course,” Don continued, shifting his eyes back to me, “why would I force anything? The Muslims will try to kill us, but I’m giving Eli my very best weapon.”
A chill went down my spine as I remembered the other presence that had operated the drone with me. “It was quite a machine,” I said. “I’m surprised I could control it.”
“It takes more than a gifted mind,” he said. “This is beyond what is seen. My power knows no limits.”
“You lie, Satan!” Ronaldo’s words burst out like water from a dam. “You get only what God lets ya have. Ya reign is short, evil, and dyin’. Ya gonna lose, gonna burn!”
“You finished?” Don picked at his nails.
“I’m just warmin’ up. I rebuke you, in the name of Jesus Christ. Get back, Satan!” Ronaldo moved toward him. “I say, in the name of—”
Don held up his hand and Ronaldo stopped, as if the words were strangled in his throat. “That’s enough. I prefer not to hear that name in MY kingdom. Understood?”
Ronaldo stared him down, but fear was in his eyes. “What did I tell ya?” he growled. “Ain’t no corruption like power on this earth.”
“Corruption?” Don laughed. “Is that what you call change, growing toward freedom? Then yes, I suppose I do corrupt little slaves into fuller pleasure.” He turned to me. “I tire of this. It’s getting late, and you must prepare to fight by my side tomorrow.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Naomi’s voice was soft. Her gaze was fixed on the baby at her chest. “Do you need him so that you can be exalted? Or is it just spite?”
Don’s smile wavered. “I will be exalted for what I give the people. Eli can either enjoy the honor by my side or share the fate of Ronaldo and the rest of the order.”
“And my fate?” Naomi looked up slowly and met Don’s gaze.
“That depends. If Eli joins me, he saves you. Otherwise, yes … you’ll die like the rest of them.” Don glanced at Ronaldo as if he were a stray dog. “Like the Brazilian.”
All their eyes settled on me. Joining meant wielding immense power. It meant getting out of this palace. It meant opportunity. Not joining meant doing nothing, hiding in fear, but did it also mean trusting and waiting on God? Do I let Naomi die or deal with the devil?
Don’s hand reached out toward me.
I couldn’t let Naomi die, not like this. I’d trade my life for hers.
Trust. I clasped his hand.
Don smiled and shook it firmly. I felt as if power were entering me.
“You will not harm Elijah.” Naomi looked down as the baby began to make waking noises. “Remember, the fate of your son depends on me.”
Don released my hand and turned to her. “Sometimes I forget how young you are, and how little you know.” He put one hand on her cheek, and the other on the baby’s head. “Such misplaced faith makes my victory all the sweeter.” He smiled, exultant. “There’s no finer taste than the blood of martyrs.”
The way he looked at her made me cringe. “Stop touching her.”
Don stepped back and grinned at me. “As you wish. She’s my gift to you, after all. Come.” He motioned for Naomi and me to follow. “Ronaldo has a date with my little helper, who you’ve now met. Androids will escort you back to your quarters.”
BIRDS SANG OVERHEAD as I walked through the rainforest. My hands grazed over green plants with soft and silky leaves. A fresh breeze blew against my bare skin. I breathed in deeply. The smell was decadent and tropical. I caught hints of every fruit I could imagine—pineapples, mangos, kiwis. The trees rose high as skyscrapers above me.
I came to a river of dark blue, peaceful water. A woman was swimming along with the current. Our eyes met.
“Come in!” she said, waving and laughing. “It’s wonderful.”
I waded into the cool water. I gasped as it touched my stomach, then I dove fully under. I sprang off the river’s bottom and my head splashed out. I shouted to the sky
.
The woman laughed with me as we swam easily toward each other. She took my hands in hers. “Let’s go to the island and let the sun warm us dry.”
I nodded. We swam together to an island in the middle of the river. It was not far, but my breath was rushed, exhilarated as we stepped onto the island’s shore.
“There.” The woman pointed to a large flat stone that stuck out over the river. Droplets of water fell from her outstretched arm, from her hair, down her chest and legs. We wore only our skin, and neither of us seemed to notice. We lay on our backs on the stone. I closed my eyes and felt my body’s weight settle against the smooth, warm surface. The sun played on my eyelids. It dried my skin. I fell into sleep within sleep.
“Let’s go.” The woman was tapping my shoulder. I opened my eyes. The sun was like a halo over her head. “You hungry?”
I nodded and stood.
She laughed and pulled me along by the hand. We came to the only tree on the island. It was in the center, with a trunk wider than I was tall. Its branches arched and swooped low to the ground around us. Looking up through its gnarled wood, bending and turning, dividing and reaching, I had a sense of great age, as if this tree had been here before the forest, the river, and even the earth. I was a newborn before an ancient.
“Here.” The woman held out a bright red fruit.
I took it in my hand. It fit easily in my palm, but was heavy as a stone. “We don’t eat this,” I said.
Her lips curled up at the ends, luscious and happy. “He said the taste is good, so good we’ll never forget it. Let’s just try it.”
“Who said that?”
“Him.” She pointed to one of the tree’s low branches, which bent all the way to the ground. There, wound around the wood, watching us, was a serpent.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
The creature’s slitted eyes blinked closed then open, and so did mine. Only, when mine opened, the tree and everything else were gone. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
An android stood beside my bed, sending a shiver down my spine. I had no idea how long it had been there.
Its machine arms held out some clothes. “Get dressed. Time to go.”
“Where?”
“Don is waiting. The battle begins soon.”
I rose from my bed, still disoriented. I barely remembered falling asleep after an android had escorted me back to my room the night before. Sleep had brought the dream, and the dream had brought that alluring vision.
I took the suit, black as usual. The android waited at the door for me to put it on. I had a feeling this was my last chance to back out. I thought of Ronaldo, locked up in prison. My stomach growled, reminding me of Ronaldo’s words. Real food of the spirit. I needed that. I needed to pray.
God, do I go?
I waited. I buttoned my shirt.
Why would you let the devil give me this choice? Naomi might die if I don’t go.
I finished buttoning. My fingers were tying the tie when a verse came to me, clear as day. It was something I’d read, maybe back on the boat with Ronaldo. Now it rang true: Do not fear what you are about to suffer … Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.
Faithful unto death. Trust and wait. Would this give me a chance to speak for the Lord? I could certainly reach more people if I weren’t trapped in the palace, and it was my chance to save Naomi. I had to go. And so I did.
The android led me out. We walked from the palace’s west wing to one of the inner areas. We eventually passed through a door that had always been locked for me. We came to a room that looked like a wheel’s hub. It had hallways leading six different directions. In the center of the room was a glass column.
An elevator rose up before us a moment later, the doors sliding open and the android stepping in. I entered and we shot up. The elevator took us outside as if we were flying through the glass spire that loomed over the palace. I gazed out over the Dead Sea and desert hills beyond. I looked up and saw a disc shape—the control tower, Alexi had said. The elevator stopped inside the disc and I stepped out.
I was in a round operations center. The window panels were screens encircling the room. The floor and ceiling were bright, polished white. I counted ten white chairs in a circle facing out toward the screens. The men and women sitting in the chairs were wearing wired helmets over their heads. None of them turned as I entered. I saw only their backs.
One chair was empty.
I glanced back and saw the elevator descend again. The glass column lowered until it was flush with the floor. And there, in the heart of the room, in the center of the white chairs, was a large crimson chair with arms coiled like serpents. Don sat there, watching me.
“Welcome to the war,” he said. “Take your seat.”
AS I MOVED to the open seat, I saw faces I recognized. Alexi. Beatriz. Two from the gathering of the world’s richest in Geneva—Xing Xing and the young guy from India. I did not know the other four. Everyone’s eyes were closed, their faces focused. Synced.
Don came to my side. “Sit.”
I sat. As soon as I did, the helmet lowered over my head. Its translucent wires prodded like little parasitic worms seeking a point of entry.
“You will have the machine you trained in,” Don said, “but first you will receive a briefing of the battlefield. Heed every detail. The Persians want to kill you. Kill them first. See you in Tehran.” He spun away.
My precept came on without request. The sync took over. My body was in Don’s control tower, but my mind was transported a million miles away.
A map of the world filled my vision. Almost every spot of land had a layer of crimson covering it, as if painted in blood. The color was thicker and darker in places. But in a few tiny dots, the reddish tint grew so faint that there was white. Was that the resistance? The order? The dots were few and far between. They looked splattered from the fling of a painter’s brush. A handful in America, China. A few more in Africa.
The view began zooming in on the Middle East. A green expanse filled the center of the area, dark as an emerald around the region, but lighter as it merged into red on the edges. That had to be the Muslim resistance. The Mahdi’s people. The area around Jerusalem was splattered in red, green, white, and even a couple specks of blue. Jewish people, I guessed. My people.
Some days ago, on November 19, said Beatriz’s voice in my mind, the resistance began Ramadan, and we launched our reclamation project.
The colors on the map began to shift. Lines of red plunged into the green, piercing like arrows from the north, east, south, and west. Each arrow plunged farther and expanded. Red swept over the Arabian peninsula. Red from the north and south met and swallowed every trace of green down the middle of the region. Red from the west dripped down over North Africa; it bent around Jerusalem and flooded east, turning a rich crimson color with no specks of white. A circle of green remained farther east, darkest around Tehran. I imagined Aisha and the Mahdi there, holding against Don’s forces.
Beatriz’s voice came again. As of yesterday, December 7, nearly all the resistance had accepted our offer of peace. They laid down their arms, exalted Don, and entered Babylon. Two cities remain. We have already established our stronghold near Jerusalem. Don will take it last. Today we send all our forces to Tehran, to finish the enemy.
My view suddenly panned to the other side of the world. It zoomed onto a large island in the Pacific, onto a dense range of mountains, onto an immense crater. A mine cut deep into the earth.
Don awaits you, Beatriz said. He will lead the attack from above. I expect you’ll be at his side. Follow his commands to the letter, or Naomi dies.
And then I was in the machine, my senses reeling. This crater was the same place as the training. The other something was sharing the controls, channeling my thoughts away from Naomi, away from the past, and toward what was facing us: the dragon.
The black creature stood on its hind legs with wings spreading across the crater. Its jaws snapped open
and unleashed a roar that sent stones tumbling down the crater’s sides. But as the roar hit me, words came into my mind: You understand me?
I nodded. I felt like the other was grinning. If the machine could have grinned, it would have too.
What is in this machine? I asked in my head.
The dragon leapt off the ground and roared again. Your partner. Azazel. With a flick of his wings, the dragon soared up into the sky. Follow.
Azazel? Who was that? And how was I supposed to fly? As if answering all my thoughts, the other, this Azazel, directed my mind to my back. The option to fly appeared. We chose it, and we set our tracker on the dragon and flew straight up like a missile.
What are you? I asked.
No answer. I looked down. The earth was far away, and our trajectory flattened, almost like reaching orbit. My mind felt out of control as it went to the machine’s core. Options appeared: diagnostics, usage, shield, and charge. I chose diagnostics. Then, in the machine’s view, my view, a screen flashed. It showed a hundred numbers, impossible to parse at once. In the center were two names with percentages.
Elijah: 50%.
Azazal: 50%.
I tried to make sense of it. We shared the machine, but I felt like I barely had control. Azazel’s presence was like a shadow, hard to see, impossible to grasp.
The dragon roared up ahead. The sound washed over me, and again I understood it. Destroy everything. Leave the Mahdi to me.
We dove toward the earth like two crashing meteors. The machine’s enhanced vision revealed the terrain below, and the targets. We were heading straight for Tehran, the sprawling city wedged against a wall of mountains. Fires burned throughout. Columns of black smoke billowed into the smoggy sky. Don’s other machines were advancing from all angles, except from above. That was us.
Just as I could make out armored soldiers manning rockets below, a cloud of blackness spewed out of the dragon’s mouth. Its roar pulsed in violent waves like a sonic attack. Surely every person within miles could hear it. The sound became words of raw, gut-curling hate in my mind: Follow, detonate, BURN.
Great White Throne Page 8
