Chapter 20
The Great Revival
Cassidy watched Terrone carefully at breakfast. He had just returned from his two-week dry out at the West Virginia Rehabilitation Center while under private security and having a whole wing to himself. He may be drying out, but he was still the President. Terrone never said a word as he poured more sugar on his cereal and looked up blankly at Cassidy from time to time, not smiling, just staring. Cassidy thought something was missing; like no one was home.
She wondered if his withdrawal was a pretense or the real thing. Was he hiding from her in the deep recesses of his mind? Was he just unable to accept her dark nature that left his mind totally blown away? Or, was he pretending, just trying to pay her back? She needed him, and she believed he knew it. Without Terrone, she'd have no power. Without him standing beside her, she'd lose to Angelica, to leave Montplier the king of the world. She couldn't take a chance like that. She had to do something to keep him on her team, whether he refused to be interactive or not didn't matter. She couldn't have him committing suicide or resigning as President.
"Terrone, did you have a nice rest while you were away, sweetie?" she asked while smiling at him lovingly. "You know I missed you, don't you?" she continued and smiled seductively this time.
He dropped his spoon in his cereal bowl with a clatter and stood up while squeaking the chair across the marble floor of their dining room. He walked to the bay window facing the river and stared, not saying a word.
"Have you seen the new designs that believers are wearing around their marks? It's reminiscent to the hippy days of the 60’s, almost psychedelic, with different fish shapes and crosses. They're actually very pretty. Takes a lot of guts to do that with everything going on," he said. He still didn't turn to look at her but continued to stare out the window.
"Where did you see that, honey?" she asked inquisitively. She hadn't heard about such defiant boldness. It was Pendwight's job to keep her up on things like that; she'd talk to him later.
"The nurses at the hospital. Two of them were believers. The P2 disabled most of the employees, and the hospital hired believers since they don't seem affected by it. Isn't that ironic?" he turned to her and smiled sarcastically while watching her mouth twitch with the barb. He knew she couldn't control it, and it happened involuntarily when she became upset.
"Darling," she replied smoothly as she got up and walked towards him. "We're all doing what we have to do. I'm just glad you got some help, whether it was from believers or not. You're feeling better, aren't you?"
He turned his back on her approach and continued to talk. "Yes, I did get a lot of help. I guess you don't mind, but I brought home this Gideon New Testament that was in my bed stand at the hospital. I spent a lot of time reading it lately. I read through Revelation three times. Did you know that the devil is going to inflict the earth after the rapture with pain without death on anyone who has the mark except those who have the seal of God on their forehead?"
Cassidy stopped and started trembling all over. She had never read it, but started remembering it from Dar-Raven's dark inborn knowledge. She had forgotten about it lately, being too busy living it. He was right. This was part of Revelation.
"Don't let your imagination work overtime, sugar. It’s just make believe, a fairytale."
She got his rejection message when he turned his back into her approach. She returned to the breakfast table and picked up a piece of toast while running her fingers around its crusty edges—her mouth still twitching.
"I guess you don't know what comes next, do you?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "Let me see if I can remember it. 'Now the number of the army of the horsemen was two hundred million, and I heard the number of them. And thus I saw the horses in the vision: those who sat on them had breastplates of fiery red, hyacinth blue, and sulfur yellow; and the heads of the horses were like the heads of lions; and out of their mouths came fire, smoke, and brimstone.' I believe, if I'm not incorrect, these guys whip the bad guys' butts."
"That's just a bunch of garbage written by a drugged-out prisoner on an island. He was losing it. You can't believe that kind of junk, can you?" she protested as her voice climbed higher in excitement, not liking any of the Word spoken around her. It was like knives slicing at her heart and soul; she felt pain with every word.
She reflected a minute. Two hundred million and those colors were exactly the same colors of the new aircraft they were building, even the lion shield covering the face of the plane. She felt betrayed by the British. She shouldn't have let them keep their design. She felt plotted against, and her anger started surging.
"Are we the bad guys, Cassidy?" he asked while letting his question sit like a landmine in front of her. He turned to face her while enjoying her obvious anger and the pained look on her face. "I think we are."
He continued, "I saw those pictures from Britain before I left for rehab. I saw the suggested number of those aircraft; but if we're the ones to build them, and they're ultimately used against us—that means something changes. Something is going to happen to turn the tables on us bad guys, and that includes Angelica and her puppet too. I’m not quite as naïve as you take me for. Had a lot of time lately to think and pr… about these things. Someone else will be in charge. My little Cassidy, it won't be you."
"How dare you threaten me? How dare you challenge my plans, and what we've been able to do while you were away drying out! How dare you!" she screamed and marched towards him, then stopped. She wanted to hurt him, to kill him, but she needed him. Something deep within her, the Dar-Raven blood, brought her to an immediate halt.
"Well, Mr. Prophet of Doom, do you have any wise suggestions, seeing that you think you know so much?" she said calmly without the twitching face anymore.
Terrone noticed the change. It gave him the creeps. She seemed to morph into another person. A person completely under control, but he didn't understand who it was. Still, he had something to say and continued.
"There's a revival going on, Cassidy. Everywhere I traveled coming back from rehab, tents were being set up on street corners and in parks. Believers are preaching Jesus, and people are listening. If we're the bad guys, it's going to be those believers who will somehow turn the tables on you. I don't know how, but I know in my heart that they'll do it."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," she replied viciously. She knew that within a week the strikes against the communes would end whatever coup they had planned.
"Oh, tell Pendwight that I forgive him. With you, that's another matter, isn't it? How can I forgive something or should I say someone who actually isn't all together human?" he replied while taking off his suit coat and flexing his well-conditioned muscles through his dress shirt, almost punching out of the fabric. It was on the order of an animal's defensive posturing. Like an animal puffing up to show the potential enemy how much stronger and bigger they are.
Cassidy instantly got the message and remained calm. She knew exactly what he was talking about with Pendwight. Someone on staff had leaked their little indiscretions. She knew Terrone wouldn't commit suicide or quit. In fact, she knew she'd have to kill him herself when the time came—after Montplier was out of the way. She couldn't afford a reversal right now. She could take his place herself if she had too. She would just have to tolerate his being a thorn in her side. She wondered where he got his new boldness and strength. It seemed to come from within him. It was different, and it frightened her a little.
"Where's your mark? Where's your mark on your hand?" she asked accusingly.
"I took little Eddie's advice. I wouldn't let them mark me. At least, I'm not sick now, either. You wouldn't want your President to be sick, would you?"
"Why did you say forgive? You sound like a believer with that kind of talk." she continued while shaking her finger at him.
"My, my, Cassidy. Aren't you the sensitive one today? Afraid I'd become a believer. Now that would be a reversal, wouldn't it? How in the world would y
ou deal with that one?" he responded without answering her question.
"Oh, I just wanted you to know that one of those believer nurses told me about a new Christian Alliance Party being formed. It looks like they're trying to have political clout now too. It seems to have international ties to Britain, Canada, and Ireland. Almost like a consolidated front of some kind. Next November might prove to be quite interesting. You don't mind a little competition? Do you, Cassidy?" he laughed, then watched her erupt and slam her fist into the breakfast table, then sweep all the dishes onto the floor; her old anger had taken control again.
Guards burst into the living room from outside the doors while shouting for confirmation, "Are you alright, Mr. President?"
Terrone looked at her and whispered to her as he walked towards his study, "Am I, Cassidy?"
"For the time being," she hissed back.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be in the West Wing reading. Hold my calls, will you?" he continued to walk away from her, then heard her pounding the table several more times.
As he entered the study, Pendwight was pouring over books, researching geographical maps for Cassidy while trying to verify exactly where additional communes were located, more strike targets. Pendwight broke into an immediate sweat while he carefully watched Terrone's face for an indication of his mood, and especially, if he knew or didn't know about him and Cassidy.
"Doing some research, I see? Take your stuff and get out of here! This whole West Wing is off limits to you and Cassidy!"
Pendwight rustled up his papers and maps too slowly for Terrone. "I don't believe you understood me! I said get out of here, now! You and Cassidy make quite a pair. I believe there's a special place reserved in hell for you two," he fired at him, then he grabbed Pendwight's red-flagged table and pushed it end for end out the door, almost landing on Pendwight's heels as he escaped.
Pendwight was an emotional mess with maps and books dropping out of his hands with each step. He tripped over printouts from his Internet searches and left a trail of paper falling behind him like a roll of toilet paper. Cassidy met him just before he entered the dining area.
"He threw me out! I was right in the middle of finishing this research. Believers have added another million and another thousand communes this week. I can't believe how fast they're spreading."
Cassidy just smiled at him; and when he got near enough, she punched him hard in his mouth and kicked his stomach as he tried to straighten up.
"I told you never to keep things from me. What do you take me for? Don't you think, I can handle a little or a lot of bad news if I have to? Why do you think you're here?" she yelled as she grabbed his bleeding face in one hand and flipped pieces of his front teeth from his face and dress shirt.
"You mean the revivals going on?" he said sheepishly while waiting for her next swing.
"Yes, the revivals. Yes, the Christian artwork on their foreheads. Yes, the Christian Alliance Party. How could you keep all that from me? What's worse is I had to find out from Terrone. He wouldn't receive the mark, and he's acting a little like a believer. He even has a Gideon Bible on him. Here in my own throne room, a Bible!"
"Immediately, you creep, I want to order the rehab place shut down. I want to have searches of every hotel, motel, school, and hospital in the U.S. I want every Bible confiscated and burned. Angelica is already doing it, but I just didn't think it was that necessary. If Terrone can be infected by it, so can someone else. Do it! It's more important than ever to keep to our schedule. Soon I'll be totally in control again. By the way, I want you to move your things over to this wing, but you're sleeping on the couch. I want to keep an eye on you. If you fail me one more time, you're dead. Do you understand?" she said, then let go of his face and watched him topple backwards while dropping all his research and documents this time.
The Christian Alliance Party
Monica sat in the executive boardroom with 15 other professional-looking business people. She felt out of place. She was marked on her hand, but these professionals weren't. They were marked on their heads with bright aluminous colors and designs decorating the marks on their foreheads.
"Monica," a white-haired gentleman replied. "We've asked you to come here today to be our candidate for the Christian Alliance Party. We hope that you are in good health, considering the new epidemic, because we need you."
"Actually, my husband is a doctor and provides me with several series of drugs and sedatives that control the symptoms of P2, which he calls the Devil's Curse. My husband is a believer, as you know. Gentleman, I'm not. Why are you picking me to represent your party?"
An enthusiastic young man with a bright red fish on his forehead responded, "Because, you're a most experienced political figure and an outspoken advocate of human rights well beyond Title VII boundaries. You can represent both the Christian Alliance as well as draw votes from the disenchanted. The disenchanted wouldn't be as threatened by a nonbeliever. If you changed in the future, which is your decision, even more people would listen. There are millions not buying into the Presidential propaganda being dished out by the present administration. You can bridge the gap for us."
"A gap filler, right? The bridge to a new administration for the new world. That has zing to it. I like that. Well, as you may know, I'm one of few senators left from the D.C. nuclear attack. I was giving birth at home in Kansas at the time. As a survivor, I'd like to try for it. But, I must admit being the only nonbeliever among such a party, as well as being married to one, is making it very difficult to stay a nonbeliever. I'm considering my options," she confessed.
Another woman in a dark business suit held her hand up to speak. She continued to rub her forehead decoration nervously by following the lines of the bright-yellow Celtic cross surrounded by a dark blue circle with her fingertips.
"Yes, ma'am, you have a question?" Monica asked while pointing to her.
"I'm Sanda Lee from the New Montana Christian Tribune. We have a growing grassroots movement, call it a revival spirit taking place from communes all across the West and throughout the United States. We have calculated that our numbers are in the multimillions in communes and millions more who have accepted the seal on their foreheads in the metropolitan cities. The communes are sending out teams of evangelists to the cities, and thousands are coming to Jesus every day. Even though the persecution has increased, the P2 has allowed us to make headway. They actually need us now to keep things working. This is a window of opportunity to turn things around."
"I'm in favor of that," replied Monica. "I need a vice-president. I don't think we should have another nonbeliever, do you? Do we know of any new believers that were in politics?"
"Maybe," replied a woman from Nashville. "We've heard from a commune in Woodbury, Tennessee, that a man called Alex is holed up somewhere nearby. We think it may be our governor, Alex Tabor. We thought he was dead. We've sent a delegation to Woodbury to check it out. He would be perfect. They wouldn't know about him unless he was a believer. Last time we checked, there was talk about a young couple sent to visit him in Sewanee. We're following the information trail as we speak. Also, this commune has been visited by angels, lately. That seems very unusual. All our studies indicate that the greater the darkness the less ability angels have in staying on earth. We hope that with so many turning to Jesus that it will counteract that"
"Let me know about Alex. I'll fly down there myself if it's true. I remember that guy. He was the one who made such a good deal working with kids at car lots or something like that. He was a real down-to-earth guy. He got mixed up with something about using prisoners as militia or something," she commented while pushing at her temples trying to remember.
Another older gentleman stood up. His forehead was decorated with an artfully done picture of Jesus with children all around Him. "I don't think any of us can judge what someone did before they became a believer. All is forgiven. If he's a believer now, he's a new man and recreated in the likeness of
Jesus."
"Here, here!" they all shouted. "Praise to our Lord and King!"
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