The People's History of the Vampire Uprising
Page 8
“Yes,” I told him.
“Well, let’s get on it, then.”
We took out the items one by one, inspecting them closely and then placing them on the floor. About thirty minutes later I pulled out a wooden box of about two feet in diameter. I sat back on my heels and opened the lid. Inside were three smaller metal boxes with locks. Each was labeled with the papal seal in wax. I knew this was what we were looking for: Fátima.
Father Mark knelt beside me with his strong scent of bourbon. Under the seal of each lockbox was written in Latin: “Letter One,” “Letter Two,” and “Letter Three.”
I was shaking and I took deep breaths. I grabbed the “Letter Three” box—
There was a crashing or slamming sound. It seemed to jump inside my ears. I almost dropped the box. Where in the building had the sound come from?
Father Mark cut off his flashlight and I did the same. I whispered, “Let’s clean this up!”
We placed the items back in the safe except for the third lockbox, which I placed on the desk chair. I very gently closed the safe as Father Mark pointed to the closet on the other side of the desk. Nodding, I turned my thumb and index finger, as if turning a lock. He seemed to understand. I sprinted back to the office door and gently turned the lock from the inside.
Footsteps and voices could be heard, down the hallway, just as I moved quickly to the closet. It was a tight fit as Father Mark and I peered through the slats of the door.
The office door clicked open. Two voices were speaking in Italian with fervor. My Italian was passable, but they were speaking too quickly. I could only make out a few phrases here and there. They seemed to be wondering why they saw lights inside the building when no one should have been on the third floor. And now there were no lights on inside. I could make out a sliver of them, looking from the window to the desk and back.
I was sure they could hear my heart beating. Father Mark placed a hand on my arm, as if to calm me.
The men moved closer to the closet, and one of the men’s arms reached out to the door handle. Then the other one said something and his arm pulled back.
We waited another half hour after they left the room. Then we stepped out, muscle-cramped and tired. My hands were sweaty as I held the lockbox. Father Mark and I rushed back downstairs, avoiding the front door. We left through a second exit intended for large deliveries and, with a quick nod to each other in the silence, sprinted off in different directions.
Interviewer: Some skill and a lot of luck. I’ve been on missions like that. What happened next?
Father Reilly: It was three in the morning by the time I got back to my apartment. I placed the lockbox on my bed. My hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and stuck a screwdriver into the primitive lock. I pushed with all my strength and it popped off with a clatter against the wall.
Inside was a folded letter, consisting of three sheets of brittle paper. I spread them on my bed. One page was in English and the other was the original in Portuguese.
The blood of the lamb was rained upon the living souls to carry on the battle now being waged on behalf of the Church of God and the salvation of souls. The sad sight has presented itself to Us of the evils of the creatures of despair and sin begotten from the arid ground where no such thing should be living. The slaughtered souls that lie in the shadow of these creatures of the absence of light that continue to take the blood from the lamb must be eradicated. These creatures bare their teeth as they spew contempt for all that is good and holy with their perverse words and deeds and they shall shake the foundation of our holy Catholic Church. Baring their teeth to suck the glorious blood from the holy lamb shall wash away the sins of these creatures so that we may renew our lives in the embrace of our God.
My mind raced: the warning about teeth. The taking of the souls. I felt my heart pounding. It was a warning from the blessed mother about these people—the Gloamings—leading us to the end of civilization.
Interviewer: I see. Is this verbatim?
Father Reilly: Absolutely.
Interviewer: But one ancient text does not a terrorist make—
Father Reilly: I disagree with that term.
Interviewer: Okay. Explain. Then surely there had to have been more.
Father Reilly: When the former president of the United States re-created himself, my world truly began to fall apart.
The event was the game changer. When he re-created himself it was on the news all day and night. Politicians, commentators, and academics all espoused their theories on why and what it meant for society. Everyone was wondering who was the Gloaming that re-created him—as if that was what mattered! Every gossip site went down the list of famous Gloamings who might have done it.
For me, it all came to a head when I was sent to the annual Catholic stewardship conference, that year in Dallas, Texas. It was an annual gathering to coordinate religion, education, and social policy impacting Catholics for the coming year. It was attended by all upper-level bishops and other senior clergy. The conference also consisted of many laypeople and their children, with family events designed to get everyone involved.
The plane had a two-hour layover in Chicago and I saw many attendees waiting alongside myself for the plane to board. A group of college students praying and sharing laughter, a few young couples with their toddlers spending time together, some random clergy resting from the long trip.
I felt even more anticipation rising in my chest after seeing this—it had been a long time since I had been to a communal event where the essence would be fellowship among the faithful.
The beautiful Dallas Hilton and its glorious atrium provided a calming backdrop against which the attendees could gather. I spent the first day of the conference giving a few presentations on the Vatican Library and the project to digitize many of the manuscripts and books. Afterwards I would sit myself at the hotel café and have discussions with various clergy about spiritual issues facing the church in the near future.
When the organizers added an evening social the next night, I was expecting it to be a social gathering of the attendees because there was no description of it in the program and it wasn’t publicized. I walked down to one of the conference rooms and I could sense discomfort or excitement in the air.
I was shocked to see the event was actually a night to meet Catholic Gloamings.
And not just any Catholic Gloamings. They were clergy.
I was appalled. I had seen Gloamings from afar but never met one in person. These appointments and re-creations had been accomplished without any publicity by the church. There were two of them: both tall and fit, with immaculately groomed silver hair and beautifully tailored garments. Immediately, I felt a negative energy that came from their entire being, yet I seemed to be the only person who felt this reaction.
The others lined up to greet the Gloamings with smiles plastered on their faces. The Gloamings were extolling the virtues of re-creation as if it were some type of biblical raising of the dead. I heard one of them refer to John 11:25, in matching re-creation with “resurrection.” And another talked of Matthew 10:8 and “raising the dead.”
Shameful comparisons, yet they seemed to hypnotize the attendees.
I watched all this unfold in one evening, terrified. I wondered what my father would have thought of these creatures. The man who climbed stairs, who saw belief as a way towards peace, not glory. This could not be the true way of my church.
I stayed for maybe fifteen minutes before I found myself physically unable to be in the same room as these Gloamings. My unfamiliarity with the Dallas area did not stop me from walking from the downtown hotel to a strip of clubs and restaurants in the Deep Ellum area. Groups of young people laughing and talking loudly walked up and down the block. I seemed to be the only person alone in this entire area. I sat on the curb and watched all of these beautiful carefree people and wondered about the future of a population that could be bartered for blood and transmuted in the blink of an eye. I didn’t sleep that ni
ght and wandered into darker blocks and alleyways. I sat among the homeless people digging through trash cans and sleeping on cardboard. I thought of them too and how they could be used as legal tender for a hungry population.
How could I just go back to the Vatican and copy papers?
Interviewer: How was this affecting your work in Rome?
Father Reilly: When I returned to Rome, new rumors began. I refused to believe them, of course. It was absurd. Out of the question. These reports violated every principle we held true.
But the rumors persisted.
The Vatican press office parried and deflected. It drove me to insanity. Deny it! Tell them no!
I remember waking up on that Thursday with my phone ringing off the hook. The Vatican announced Pope Victor II would make an announcement that evening.
The Internet descended into madness that day. And the rumors began to take on the aura of fact, and they were definitive that the Pope was going to announce that he had been re-created. It was covered over the Internet like a poisonous vine. Vatican City was in a state of panic and anticipation. No one could muster up the courage to work that day, and everywhere in Vatican City, small groups of workers and clergy spoke in hushed tones about the impending announcement. Many others were in the various chapels, praying.
I spent the day in a constant state of nervousness. I knew in my heart that the Holy Father could not have re-created.
He would not.
Would he?
At the appointed hour that evening, the Pope called an audience in the Vatican papal sitting room, instead of the balcony. And he did not allow television cameras inside. That worried me because of the common knowledge that the Gloamings gave off a particular and not yet understood electromagnetic radiation that invariably interfered with the audio or video recording of them. A type of radio-frequency interference that rendered it impossible for them to be filmed or recorded in any manner or by any type of equipment.
Crowds had gathered outside and in the square all day, but I decided to stay in my room. The news came in swiftly: Pope Victor II announced that Cardinal Alexander Naro, the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the most powerful and influential office at the Vatican, had been re-created.
I felt tears run down my face—I am unashamed to say it. I didn’t know if it was from relief that it wasn’t the Pope who had been re-created, or from despair that Cardinal Naro had. Naro’s explanation left me hollow: he wanted to minister to the new species; he wanted to welcome them into the church; he wanted to show that we are all the same species; he wanted to foster an openness among all peoples; he wanted to have many more years to complete his goals for the church.
I could only grieve, mourn, and fast. After a period of mourning came confusion.
And then rage.
This cardinal was much too close to the Pope. The level of influence he had on the church was unrivaled. This is exactly what the third letter had warned.
I needed the help of someone of high rank in the church—someone who would be willing to fight for his beliefs. So I packed my minimal belongings with the letter—which, to my surprise, had still not been reported missing—and booked a plane ticket.
Interviewer: Where to?
Father Reilly: Back to the U.S. When I landed, I took an Uber and all the driver could talk about was the leeches—the Gloamings. Now the NBA and NFL were considering whether to admit this new species into their leagues and how to accommodate their medical condition in spite of the fact that it would be difficult to televise those games if the camera couldn’t record them. People were still buying into this farce like a shared madness.
I arrived at my destination close to midnight. I considered renting a hotel room for the night but I felt such a sense of urgency, and I couldn’t conceive of a delay. I knocked on the caretaker’s door and a woman answered with a less than inviting look on her face.
“My name is Father John Reilly,” I told her. “I am a Jesuit assigned to the Vatican Archives. I am here on a matter of great importance and I need to see Bishop Lawrence Thomas immediately.”
Interviewer: I’m sure it won’t surprise you, but we are extremely interested in how this first meeting with Bishop Thomas went.
Father Reilly: The woman directed me out into the desert where Bishop Thomas was praying. The desert air was cool before the sun came up. I studied the map with my flashlight and it seemed like I was starting at the correct trail—I whispered a prayer just in case. I trudged up the path and flashed the light everywhere at once, trying to spot any snakes or animals in my path. Every once in a while I heard something rustling in the bushes but I kept my concentration on the trail.
After a couple of hours, I was covered in sweat and puffing loudly. The sky was beginning to lighten just a bit. But then…this was strange. I looked up and caught a faint light on the side of the mountain. I wondered if it was my mind playing tricks.
Another hour and I was closer to the light. My legs began to cramp at the calf and I haltingly paced up the trail. My back was bent over and my head hung down to the ground. I could see the spit and sweat fall to the ground with every shuffle of my feet and every labored intake of breath. I finally could experience what my father felt climbing the steps up to the shrine. But I could find no satisfaction in this, let alone deliverance. Another half hour of my legs moving as if of their own volition, and I reached the flickered glow and saw a large candle in the dirt at the front of a cave. I stepped inside the cave. At the back I saw a man in a monk’s habit kneeling on a makeshift rest of burlap and wood. He sat with his back to me in front of a scattered altar of rosaries, scapulars, and pictures of saints. I heard a murmur of prayers.
I began to pray myself until his voice cut through the cave. “I suppose you’re not here to rob me.”
I paused to compose myself before I answered. “Bishop Thomas, I’m so sorry. My name is Father John Reilly. I am a Jesuit assigned to the Vatican Archives and I need to speak to you about a matter of great importance.”
Bishop Thomas rose and turned around to face me. His angular features were more pronounced in the dim light of the shadows, and his thin body looked almost as if it would blow away with any wind. “It’s about those bloodsuckers, isn’t it?”
Chapter 5
February 10
Nine Months After the NOBI Discovery
U.S. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES COMMITTEE ON HOMELAND SECURITY
One Hundred and Seventeenth Congress
First Session
Serial No. 117–20
The subcommittee met, pursuant to call, at 9:00 a.m., in room 225, Canon House Office Building, Hon. James Kerr (chairman of the committee) presiding.
Present: Representatives Duncan, Gervin, Gilmore, Martin, Gonzalez, Brady, Johnson, Washington, and Leslie.
MR. KERR:
The Committee on Homeland and Security will come to order. Our first witness is Dr. Lauren Scott, assistant researcher of the research division at the Centers for Disease Control. Welcome, Dr. Scott.
DR. SCOTT:
Thank you. Thank you. Um, yes. Thank you—
MR. KERR:
The committee meets today to examine critically important issues related to the NOBI virus and its effect on the health and security and economy of the country. This hearing will help us determine whether we are appropriately prepared for any possible NOBI virus spread, especially within the next year, and identify public health responses for future deadly infectious disease outbreaks. Our witnesses will help inform this committee’s future oversight and legislative efforts.
NOBI is of urgent concern to Americans for a number of reasons: because it is presently untreatable and its means of transmission are not fully known, because it appears to have potential for rapid international spread in this interconnected globe, and because its effects on our society are still unknown. If this disease were to become something on par with AIDS and Ebola, the results could be catastrophic for our citizens and our critic
al infrastructure.
Fortunately, there is evidence that NOBI is not as easily transmissible as Ebola or SARS, and that apparatuses of public health are working well to contain it. On the other hand, there is much we do not know if NOBI continues to spread: How would we handle large infection rates or isolate and treat infected people? Is our hospitalization infrastructure prepared? Do our public health professionals have the facts and tools to combat this disease? And what about gaps in international and local surveillance? Will we be able to develop vaccines and other treatments? Do we have the financial resources? What are the consequences of having NOBI-infected people in our general population?
Luckily, the NOBI virus is, as far as our information reveals, limited to the United States.
Hopefully this hearing will dispel many of the disturbing myths that surround this new disease.
The committee, in an effort to provide a balanced commentary, attempted to extend an invitation to a Gloaming citizen to testify today, but we were unable to find a willing participant. I do want to thank the witnesses who are present today.
Dr. Scott?
DR. SCOTT:
Thank you again. It is…It is great to be here…with this distinguished committee.
You have been a great friend of the CDC’s and public health, and we respect and appreciate that you are taking time to focus in on NOBI, especially at the local level, where so much of our efforts really have to come to fruition on the research end. Although we do have much work to accomplish, I want to give you a brief recap of where we are right now with the virus. And I am hoping to dispel many of the myths surrounding this illness that have been widely circulated throughout the media and especially the Internet.