Chapter 15
The Dark Idea
Cassidy, Terrone, and Pendwight gathered before their wide-screen TV watching the funeral procession of the Count and Sister Jessica. It was filled with a deathly fanfare of ancient Austria complete with the famous funeral dirge and horse-drawn carriages.
Cassidy watched Angelica intensely and said out-loud, "That is one dangerous lady, one very dangerous lady."
"Cassidy, are you talking about Angelica again?" he asked while angrily watching her staring at the TV.
Pendwight agreed, "Cassidy is right. Every fiber of my being gets goose bumps when I look at her. She can't be trusted. Did you hear that she opened up the old concentration camps on the very same locations as the old ones but extended the facilities for miles? They say she even has the furnaces working again. I just can't figure out who it is she could be targeting unless it's believers."
"It's the believers, professor. You can count on it. I have a funny feeling that our country and Angelica are in competition. What better way to prove that you're in control than to take out the believers? Didn't I hear it was her note on the research report that gave us our slogan, 'Don't let them do it to us again.' I can't believe she beat me to that. I thought that was my idea. It's like she thinks exactly like me. That's a terribly scary thought. That also makes her even more dangerous," stated Cassidy frankly.
"Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You're not dangerous. You're my sweetheart, the President's love, right?" he said as he kissed her forehead and went to pour himself a double finger of Jack Daniels.
"Oh, Terrone, I think you have to be the most naive man on earth. You've lived with me all these years and have seen me in action time after time. You mean, you still think of me as that pretty little girl you married? Can't you understand that in spite of what you may think, I'm one of the most dangerous women on earth?" She looked at Pendwight as she said it and saw him nodding in agreement.
Terrone started to protest, shocked by the obvious confession. "Don't Terrrone, let me finish. This whole thing is a battle between Angelica and me. I know it now. I know without a doubt that she killed the Count and Sister Jessica—uno on uno. I would've done the same thing if I were her."
She continued, "It's too bad we have such a distance between us. If she were here, it would be her or me, rather than Sister Jessica. Or should I say, you and me versus her and Andre. Terrone, you are in the right place and time to influence the whole world. You have to claim your right to that kingship."
"I'm not a king! I'm just an ex-boxer who got into politics because my wife asked me to. It worked, and it was practically a fluke. You know that. If it hadn't been that my only competition died unexpectedly, I never would've made it. Then, there was that accidental death of that news guy who was giving me such a bad rap about my stand against organized religion and their tax breaks. I've had all the breaks. You know that. Now, here I am. And, you aren't that terrible person you're describing. I know you aren't."
Cassidy got up and knelt before Terrone's lounge chair looking up into his face. She reached up and placed her hand tenderly on his face. He took it and kissed her fingers affectionately.
"You're meant to be the king of this world. Don't ask me how I know it. I just do. Angelica and those Europeans won't stand in our way. I'll prove to her who's strongest. We'll outmatch her with more ruthless ways."
She continued while pushing her face within an inch of his, then speaking without breathing, "Now, listen to me. I am that dark witch you don't want me to be. My mother was a witch. My grandmother was a witch. My father was a dark angel named Dar-Raven. I killed your competition and that bothering little news guy. You still are the most naive President in existence, but I'm not going to let it stop us from taking our place in history. In spite of it, you will rule!"
Terrone started trembling from her talk. He believed her, and there were facts that were lining up in his mind. Event after event that used to be coincidences weren't now. There was her abnormal strength and abilities beyond what any human had. He was counting them up and the sum total was scaring him. He jumped up, pushed her aside, and ran into the bathroom to throw up. He came out a minute later, grabbed his whisky bottle, went back in, and locked the door behind him.
"Pendwight, you've always known, haven't you?"
"Yes, something deep down within me, even some dreams. I can't explain it, but I believe you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Without hesitation, she stated, “What can we do to prove to the world that we're in control of things? We have to better than that dark witch. What can we do?"
She talked excitedly as she walked around the room, "I don't think that even she has the guts to kill all the believers. She's just trying to show us up, doing one better. If we did something to kill a thousand, she'd only kill five thousand."
"There's only one alternative," he interrupted while feeling exhilaration from the dark idea racing through his mind.
"I think I know what you're going to say but go ahead." She closed her eyes preparing to hear what she expected.
"We'll kill them all. We'll kill every single one of them. We'll do it in one day, one afternoon, one hour, all at once. Angelica will think that we are weaker while we restrain ourselves. It will slow her down a little. When the time is right, we'll strike."
"Let the communes continue to form, right? Don't stop them, right? Watch them. Count them. Locate them. Do we have the capacity to take them all out at once like you said? Can we target them so specifically as to not suffer heavy casualties from our own?" she fired at him while accenting each statement with a fisted blow into a couch cushion.
"Yes," answered Pendwight. "Haven't you seen those proposals from Britain? They're talking about pulling away from the European Union, including Canada and Ireland, supported by some non-EU countries like Israel, Mexico, and a string of other Scandinavian countries. They don't like Montplier's bunch having complete control over their money. They think when we all pull away from the EU group that we'll be attacked by them. They want to throw the first punch."
See!" he said as he excitedly waved a three-inch-bound document in her face.
He continued to rattle on, "They've developed the world's smallest nuclear-carrying aircraft. It's a one-man job. It's only ten-feet long. The pilot lies on his stomach. It looks like a little dragonfly. It can handle one nuclear warhead, just a mini one, kind of like a 1,000-pounder. Here's a picture of it. See!"
Cassidy grabbed at the document and thrashed through the pages at an accelerated rate. She was memorizing every detail and soaking up the information while calculating the possibilities.
"What do they want from us?" she asked sarcastically.
"They devised a plan for all the countries to help build and store them until they get enough to overwhelm the EU. They want us to manufacture the nukes, and they say together, we can have millions produced in a matter of months, even weeks. With this kind of plane, they can fly an armada of nuclear missiles right on top of the enemy site way below radar. With this kind of craft, we could win back control over the funds and dominate Europe ourselves. We could eliminate every single believer's commune within hours with just under a hundred thousand of them!"
"Why are the Brits so concerned about what they look like?" asked Cassidy while pointing to a drawing of one.
"They do? Who cares? What is it they want it to look like, anyway?" asked Pendwight as he peered at a colored drawing.
"A grand English Lion's Head decorates the whole front of the plane. It looks like something from a British circus," she replied mockingly. "Look at the colors, Professor. They have the lion surrounded with a bright, red shield. What is that, anyway? An air brake in case they get going too fast?" she replied sarcastically, then slung the plan to the floor disgustedly. After a minute of silence, her mind started putting something together as she replied, "Wait, that's exactly what it is!"
Something else bothered her about the way
it looked. It looked familiar like something she had seen or read about long ago, but she just couldn’t place it. She remembered something about the heads of the horses were like the heads of lions; and out of their mouths came fire, smoke, and brimstone. Still, she couldn’t remember why this was so familiar, and finally, she just shrugged.
She picked the plans up and turned to where she left off. She studied silently and noticed the rest of the plane with its bright-blue-yellow racing stripes, then she pointed to a picture of a small nuke laying just under the nose of it. It stuck out in front of the nose of the plane like a big, overgrown lip. She was already developing a plan but couldn't resist another British slam, "These guys must have gotten drunk when they put this together. It looks ridiculous! Then, why not drones instead of manned?"
"But who cares? It's just what we need. According to the figures, they can build 10,000 of these for the same price as a single F16! It's pure genius, pure genius!"
She actually agreed with Pendwight but wasn't letting on so easily. She had to seem wise and deliberate. In her mind, she already saw the Christian communes covered by mushroom-shaped clouds. She commented to herself, "These are reusable for another time," then she continued to go through the document page after page.
"Yes, and they even use some new nuclear-laced fuel. One pound of the fuel can carry a vehicle 1,000 miles. That's from Mexico. Our NAFTA financing paid for all that. We're just getting a return on our money now."
He continued, "Mexico added themselves in for a big stake in the profits, but the fuel is about all they can handle. Canada has already volunteered to help in building the planes. Britain can't produce nukes or the planes because of their close proximity to the EU. They know they'd get caught. They need us all working together to pull this off. They can send us plenty of financing and come up with the design, but that's as far as they can go. It's up to Canada and us to build the plane, us to provide the nukes, and Mexico to bring us the fuel."
"Pendwight, did your read how many of these things they want to build? My Hades! They have to be kidding! They must be making enough for every soldier in service. There won't be an infantry left. They'll be flying these little dragonflies, instead," she spoke more from admiration of its scale than doubt of its success.
"Actually, no, how many?" asked Pendwight, almost afraid Cassidy was getting ready to ridicule his suggestion, which could mean she was ready to go into one of her fits.
"Two hundred million. I want you to call the Prime Minister and start production as soon as possible," she replied very calmly, then noticed a sigh of relief from Pendwight. Then she recalled something else that talked about horsemen again. She thought she must going crazy. Where did all these thoughts keep coming from?
A small insert fell from the British document, and Cassidy bent down to pick it up. "What's this, another British circus plane?"
Pendwight blushed and shyly answered, "No, it's just something else they want us to help them with. Don't pay attention to it. It costs too much money."
"Since when do you make decisions like that?" she answered curtly. Cassidy sat in the sofa chair, and between paragraphs, could still hear Terrone throwing up. She thought, "He'll get over it," and continued to read.
Thirty minutes later, she screamed, "Pendwight! Pendwight! Get your scrawny butt in here!"
Pendwight came running out of his office suite with his cell phone in one hand and a portion of the British plans in his other—the part with the Prime Minister's phone number on it. As he came towards her, he said loudly, "Hold on a minute, Prime Minister. The President's wife is speaking."
Pendwight made sure Cassidy heard, "Prime Minister," and watched her carefully as he handed her the phone and retreated several chairs away as a matter of safety.
"Prime Minister?" asked Cassidy while keeping her tone down on purpose.
"Yes," Pendwight answered quietly.
"Prime Minister, has Pendwight given you the good news? He has? Then, we will start production immediately. Have the blueprints brought over by courier as soon as possible. Are you willing to train our pilots too? Yes, here in the U.S., of course."
"Now, let's talk about these satellites. From the information you gave us, all but three communication satellites are still operational. Two of those will be removed from service in the next 90 days. You want us launch two of your own satellites to replace them, right? For this, we'll gain control and first-right's usage above everyone else, right? I noticed that these satellites could be used offensively too. They seem to have the capability of launching missiles from space. I don't suppose you've told the EU about that? No, I didn't think so. We would arm them? I don't suppose you have blueprints on the missiles that would work on this system, would you? We can use standard inventory with slight modifications? How convenient."
"These satellites are capable of overriding any and all communications in existence. Isn't that true? As well as, listening to an ant farting? Especially, a French, Russian, Arab, or Chinese ant?" She laughed at her fart humor.
"What makes the material of these satellites so different? They look like you're making them from the same dark-black metal that we use on our own stealth bombers. Can't be seen by radar. How is it that you think the U.S. could benefit? You mentioned a P.R. move?" Cassidy was weaving a network of information into another plan.
"We offer this as a peace offering for the benefit of the world. A grand gesture to the world, but all the time it's a way for us to keep watch on our enemies. It also looks like we're able to protect ourselves from a particular, unreachable vantage point. Quite a good idea. Why do you British have all the best ideas, lately? I like it."
She continued, "I just want to know one thing. If we launch it successfully and arm it, can we dictate the first-strike targets? Rome, maybe? Or maybe, even Israel? Just a joke, Prime Minister, just a joke."
"What are these symbols that you have on the drawings? One looks like a tree and the other a candlestick? An olive tree is the sign of peace and plenty. The candlestick is the sign of light and unity. How quaint. It's better than that racing car with wings we're going to build. Who said you British were humorless? From what I've seen, you might bleed ice water, but you’ve got a flair for the dramatic. Don't have a queen anymore to make over so you express yourselves through your weapons. Not a bad creative outlet. At least you're not coloring them pink and calling them the Barbie's," she laughed at her humor and fell back into her chair, which she had been circling like a caged tiger.
All of a sudden Cassidy had a phrase that flashed in her subconscious: “The two witnesses.” It was gone as soon as it came, and she smacked her face with the palm of her hand to bring herself back to the task at hand. This bothered and confused her more than anything. What did those words mean; can’t I just talk to someone without all this trash in my mind? She never got an answer.
"I'm in. I mean the U.S. is in. I'll have Terrone send you the appropriate letters of intent tomorrow morning. Let's get this started. Oh, how is the census going? Haven't started but will soon. Good. We got our first shipment from Scorpion International in Baghdad yesterday. It's going to be hard, but stick in there. It'll be worth it in the end. My best regards, Prime Minister."
After hanging up, she stared at Pendwight, who kept especially quiet, not knowing what to expect. "Don't you ever shortcut me again! I make the decisions around here! I have the vision, and you're just piggybacking on them right now! I want to see everything you get in from now on, no matter how ridiculous it seems. Do you understand?" she glowered at him and seethed from the opportunity she almost missed. When the time came, she'd launch the first strikes directly into the heart of both Rome and Israel. Andre would be gone and so would the apple of Gods eye, Jerusalem itself.
Apollyon's Chamber
Apollyon watched Cassidy with great pride. He saw the pieces of his dark puzzle falling quite nicely in place. He couldn't have done it better himself. The compe
tition between Cassidy and Angelica would cause the death of more believers than all his own attempts. Cassidy's brutality was the crown and glory of her Dar-Raven genes. Once believers were out of the way, God would be unable to mount an offensive against him. With the Holy Spirit gone along with His believers, the world would be an empty wasteland of spiritually bankrupt humans. Just the kind of wasteland he wanted, and he'd rebuild it his way this time.
With his dark angels, he would take the remaining humans and repopulate the world with dark Nephilims just like Cassidy. He would build an empire based on his own worship. He would resurrect the ancient ways of wizards, warlocks, and witches. He would continue to corrupt the earth until God left it alone and abandoned it to him. Then, he would mount his own attack on the heavens with his Nephilims and dark angels fighting side-by-side against the light. Nothing would stop them. They would rule heaven too. They would ruin it so God would leave forever. Apollyon would rule the high places and turn God's angels into his slaves for eternity. He laughed out-loud and continued to send more dark thoughts to both Angelica and Cassidy.
"That group that just left for Woodbury, was there an angel with them?" he asked, sensing it more than knowing.
Tare recalled the thoughts and sights from other dark angels that had been on I-24 when Caleb made it through. He replayed the scene from their thoughts and vision. "No one can tell, Dark Master. It looks like it was a small black man. You know the crazy man that kept bowing to everyone in Nashville. There was a Hummer that made it through behind him, but the boy driving was marked. One of our men saw his hand scabbed over as he turned the steering wheel. Would an angel have a marked person in their group?"
"Not likely. It was just a feeling, that's all. That crazy black man must not be all that crazy to be driving away from the Nashville. Probably being made to, I imagine. They probably offered him a watermelon for his trouble. Forget it. Just make sure that Cassidy and Angelica continue to make progress."
The void of Apollyon's chamber went black without even the eyes of other demons to share the emptiness with him. He melted into the fabric of the air and lost himself in the silence for a minute. He was awakened by the cries of millions of dark angels begging to be set loose on earth. Without answering them he said, "Soon, oh great scorpions, soon. Your own brothers are preparing the poison for you to inflict the earth. Your torture will reign supreme. The United States with all its Godly trappings and its allies will curse God when we get through with them. They'll fall on their faces to worship me. They'll do anything to have relief, and none will come until I'm ready. This is their penalty for honoring God so much. This is their punishment, and the world will watch." He drooled in the pleasure of his poisonous trigger—his scorpion tails.
Armageddon Darkness Page 17
