Red Death

by Jeff Altabef

Cindy’s grin returned like the sun breaking the horizon. “Well, I’m happy that’s out of the way. Now tell me about the actress, Jessica Roberts. I hear you two are quite the item. Can we expect to see you on the silver screen soon?” Cindy chuckled and the image changed.

  This time a new interviewer appeared, a man in his late fifties wearing a gray suit, red tie, and white shirt. He sat behind a round glass table with an older version of Jacob across from him.

  Jacob wore a white lab coat, a different assortment of medals pinned to his chest, and the same green and black beret on his head. He still looked younger than Piers had seen him before, but cracks appeared in the façade—faint creases dug into his forehead and around his eyes; his skin did not have the same youthful glow it had before; and his shoulders were rounded slightly.

  The interviewer’s voice sounded smooth but serious. “So, General, tell me about the organ replacement experiments. I understand they’ve had mixed results.”

  Jacob appeared less comfortable than he had in the earlier interview, his body stiff and his smile forced. “We’ve been able to grow most human organs in the lab, creating replicas of the ones originally grown in the body, and have successfully transplanted them into patients. We’ve only had problems on a few occasions, and with time, we will overcome those.”

  “I understand you’re a religious man. What about the accusations leveled against you by some religious authorities that you’re playing God and, let me paraphrase them here for a moment, ‘Are stepping on His divine toes?’”

  Jacob chuckled, but there was no genuineness in his mirth. “These people offer a false choice between God and science. No difference exists between the two. All science stems from God. My job is simply to determine the divine will already embedded in the DNA. Just like the preacher whose job is to interpret the messages in the Bible.”

  “What other experiments are you doing at this Eden? Eden is what you call your lab, right?” The interviewer raised his eyebrows, making his disapproval clear.

  Jacob shrugged disarmingly. “Yes, we call the facility Eden because we are trying to uncover God’s will when he created the world. It is really just a play on words.”

  “And the other experiments? Some say your experiments are dangerous and secretive, that we should open Eden to the public. Congressman Tish has been very outspoken.”

  “Congressman Tish and the American people have nothing to fear from our research in Eden. We seek only the divine truth and to further God’s will.”

  Piers saw the same strain in Jacob’s eyes. He was lying again.

  The image changed, and an anchorwoman spoke solemnly. “Today marks the twentieth anniversary of the Smith Cure for cancer, which made possible treatments for a number of different diseases. Overpopulation problems stretch mankind’s ability to feed and cope with rising populations. Wars have broken out on every continent to some degree, including the increasing violence south of our border. We tried to contact General Smith for an interview, but the reclusive soldier and scientist remains unavailable. The army tells us his work in Eden is too important to be interrupted. Speculation grows about what he’s working on. Some believe Eden has been turned into a biological weapons research lab.”

  The anchorwoman paused and smiled at the screen. “Other sources say they’re working on a drug that will let man live forever. Hopefully, the reclusive General will provide some information about his research shortly.”

  The screen turned black and flickered back to life. An image of Jacob, looking much like the photographs Piers was familiar with, appeared on the screen. He sat alone behind this same desk in this office. Gone were the lab coat, the military medals, and the beret.

  Strange how the Book of Jacob fails to mention his military past.

  He wore a scarlet robe, had short black hair, and his features looked gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the mole on his face darkened. “I tried explaining to them what would happen if we released the cancer vaccine, but they would not listen. I knew others would pervert it to cure other diseases. The treatment was meant for only those who deserved it, those who were pure. Now, the world might cave in under the weight of the worthless.”

  Jacob drummed his fingers against the desk and shrugged. “Oh well. That’s in the past, and we move on. The world must be cleansed. Even the dimwitted should see that now. God spoke to me through the DNA, through the molecules. He told me it must be done, so I will do it for humanity and God, as guardian of the human race. The virus is ready. I’ve sent angels to far-reaching corners of the globe. Even though they’re unaware of their role in God’s plan, they are His instruments. They will sit at his right hand in the afterlife. They’re infected with the new plague. It should take three months before the entire planet is under the influence of the disease, and the great cleansing can begin.”

  He paused for a moment and tapped his fingers on the desk in silence.

  The pause unnerved Piers.

  Jacob’s eyes jittered, and he looked unstable, as if he were close to shattering. “Is it any different from Noah’s Ark? We have everything we need to survive in Eden, to continue after humanity is cleansed and purified. The river is mined. We will be tested over the next year, but we’ll prove pure. I’d rather have completed the cure first, but recent events required me to speed up the plans. Meddling government officials!”

  Jacob’s eyes twitched again. “I’m only one small breakthrough away and God will deliver us. Once the cure is finished, the virus will provide immortality to those who are pure, those I deem worthy.” He smiled slyly for the camera.

  After a short pause another video flickered to life. This time Jacob appeared ragged, his robe dirty and torn, his thin gray hair oily, his face taut, old, haggard, and his skin yellowish.

  He whispered, “They keep me locked up here in the Labyrinth, but some are still loyal. They say I’ve gone crazy, but they don’t understand. The cure is just outside my grasp. It’s maddening! I want to kill them all. If I kill them, God will reward me. He will grant me immortality to start over with the pure. I know this to be true.”

  Jacob’s fingernails were yellowed and long. He scratched at his left arm, and Piers saw old rips in his flesh that had scabbed over. “I hear them. I hear the cries, billions of cries of those who perished. I know the Dark One tempts me. He sent those boats of children down Eden River. I had to kill them for God! God knows I was right! He commanded me to kill them!”

  He laughed maniacally, his eyes skittering. “They’ve told everyone I’ve gone to the mountain to save Eden, to prevent a horde of Soulless from invading. They plan to kill me.”

  He frantically pushed his hands over his ears. “Can you hear them crying? They cry so loud.”

  The video went silent, and Piers stared into Jacob’s green eyes. They still fired brightly, but now the green twitched with madness.

  The screen returned to the globe, and the electronic files that were on it earlier reappeared.

  Piers went numb. Everything he had been taught was a lie—Jacob was a madman, the Red Death his evil invention.

  How can it be all so wrong?

  He stared at the computer screen, still lost in the vastness of the lies, the wrongness of Eden and Jacob, when he noticed a small red apple icon. The apple looked like the red one burned into the cask the High Priest had looked at in the Orchard.

  Piers clicked on it without thinking.

  A simple list popped on the screen titled “UW.”

  What does that mean?

  Underneath the title were one hundred and thirty-three names: the first name was that of his uncle, the second himself. As he scanned further down the list he saw other names he knew, names of people who were friendly to his parents and whose views differed from the High Priest.

  He saved the file on the flash drive and tucked it into his robe. The blue neon clock read 2:26 A.M.

  He pressed the exit key and heard voices coming from outside. Frozen, he saw the latch twist and the door open. Orange lanter
n light filtered into the room.

  The High Priest and Jonas stood in the doorway.

  He ducked under the desk, hoping they had not seen him.

  ***

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  Chapter 57 – Wilky

  Wilky peered into the torch’s soft flames, trying not to lose himself in the intricate colors that twisted and changed. Alone and exhausted, he could not rest. His loneliness felt deeper and more intense than usual, as if he had fallen into a deep well with slick walls he could not climb.

  Aaliss did not understand him; he knew it was his fault, but fault wasn’t the issue.

  He yearned for the simple, white walls of his lab and apartment in Eden. If only he could shut out the world for a short time, so he might rest. Maybe with rest he could see things clearly. But even if he shut his eyes now, his mind would continue spinning like a top, bouncing off thoughts and ideas as if they were solid obstacles. Besides, there were things he needed to know, so he stared into the flickering torch and let the flames guide him.

  Aaliss had asked him, “Who’s going to win the upcoming war? What’s our role in it?”

  He couldn’t answer.

  She didn’t realize the complexity of that question. Besides, she had asked about the war, but she really wanted to know about Eamon, and Wilky had no answer for that.

  He tried to see who would win the war, but the images appeared muddled. Now he stared into the fire, to see beyond the flames, watching intensely as the flickering streaks of yellow and orange danced their mysterious waltz. Since he had left Eden, the visions had come to him more frequently and more clearly than before. At times he lost track of where he was, what realm he was in—reality or a vision. Those times scared him, but the Witch had counseled him to accept the visions, which seemed wise.

  The flames took him away. He no longer sat in the room in the Stronghold. He stood along a clay road, where a fire much like this one danced in front of him. Images formed and unformed in rapid succession, and finally he saw a pair of eyes that glowed in the darkness—blue with red flecks—witch’s eyes.

  They looked powerful and angry and they frightened him. These eyes belonged to the witch from the City of Bones. She led the northern invaders, and she too searched for a deeper meaning behind events. A blackbird perched on her shoulder and a firefox wound its way around her feet.

  He ignored the animals and focused hard on the eyes. When they blinked, he pulled back.

  They were looking at him.

  He shook his head to clear it, then wandered to the window and gazed at the Stronghold. The stones gave the impression of strength and permanence. There were, however, things stronger than stone and more permanent. He touched the rough edge of the windowsill and the details started to overwhelm him. Each stone in the wall varied in size and shape. The one he touched was mostly dark gray but contained streaks of white and silver. The next stone was the largest in the line, at least a full finger longer than any of the other stones, but not the widest.

  He glanced back out the window, noticed a shadow in the street, and his heart skipped a beat.

  ***

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  Chapter 58 – Piers

  Piers heard the High Priest’s heavy footsteps at the far end of the office. “We still have time to add names to our list of the Unworthy,” he said. “We can purge more of the impure from our ranks.”

  Piers inched to the side of the desk to glimpse what they were doing.

  “There are better ways to get rid of the others we don’t want,” said Jonas.

  The High Priest placed the lantern on a short table by the door.

  Piers suddenly understood the High Priest’s plan. It all made sense.

  UW from the computer list stands for Unworthy. On Eden Day he will give those on the list ordinary apple wine without the cure—wine from the cask with the red apple. When they expose everyone to the Soulless, those who drink the wine with the real cure will live, and the Unworthy will die. The High Priest will claim Jacob judged the dead as impure. Who will refute him? All power will consolidate under him.

  “I’m happy the experiments are over for now.” The High Priest rotated his head on his neck. “It’s so inconvenient to do them this late.”

  Jonas grinned. “The new virus worked perfectly. Our researchers have outdone themselves. The uncured Soulless died instantly while those with the cure were unaffected. The person’s age doesn’t matter. They all die instantly from our new virus. With it as a weapon, we will conquer the local tribes in a few days. They will be powerless to stop us.”

  The High Priest smiled and clapped his hands together like a child who had just received a toy. “Yes, now if we make enough, we should be ready by Eden Day. This calls for a celebration.” He waddled toward the desk, stopping inches from Piers. He smelled like an unpleasant mixture of apples and body odor as he opened a drawer from a short cabinet.

  “I’ll pour,” said Jonas. “It’s bad luck not to fill the glass to the top for a toast so important.”

  Piers heard the tinkle of glass and the sound of wine splashing into goblets.

  “Just the one drink tonight, Jonas.” The High Priest sounded annoyed. “I have much planning to do in the morning.”

  “Of course. You’re the boss.”

  Glass tinkled against glass and the room grew quiet. Piers took light shallow breaths, fearful they might hear him breathe.

  After a long moment Jonas broke the silence. “Why is your keyboard on top of your desk?”

  Piers felt as if someone had ripped his heart from his chest and slammed a sledgehammer into his stomach. What an idiot! He had forgotten to grab the keyboard when he ducked behind the desk.

  “I don’t know. I never leave it out.” The High Priest shook the door to the Pantry. “The door is still locked.”

  Volcanic rage bubbled up inside Piers that he could no longer contain. Rage at the lies behind Jacob and the religion, at the billions of lives lost because of a madman, at his parents’ death, at his scars, and for Aaliss and Wilky. His siblings were probably already dead, and he had been fooling himself. He was the oldest and he failed to protect them. He had failed at the one job in which he couldn’t fail!

  He rose from his hiding spot with his head high, his back straight, and his right hand clutching the small paring knife. They won’t find me cowering behind the desk!

  The High Priest’s mouth dropped in surprise, and Jonas smiled.

  “How did you get in here?” asked the High Priest incredulously.

  Piers shrugged.

  The High Priest scanned the office, obviously confused until a gust of wind blew open the window curtains. “How about that, Jonas? Our little Piers grew wings and flew through the window. Who would have guessed the Scarred One could have summoned the nerve?”

  Jonas lumbered toward the desk, every step lethal.

  “So you plan to give us Wilky’s cure on Eden Day and pass it off as your own?”

  The High Priest clapped his fat hands together. “You are a smart one, Piers. Why don’t you put down that knife? We can talk about this in a more holy way.”

  “You want to murder those on the list. The Unworthy Ones, right?” Piers pointed the knife at the High Priest’s chest, the blade trembling.

  “Jacob has judged them unworthy and has commanded me to do it. That’s how he works. He speaks to me, and I’m commanded to follow.” The High Priest grinned, his voice sounding sickly sweet, like honey dripped over something rotten. “You must understand.”

  Jonas edged closer to Piers until only the desk separated them.

  “Why can’t the cure be enough? You could save them. You could cure the Soulless.” Piers inched his way back from the desk. “You’re sick and unworthy!’

  The High Priest’s face reddened. “The cure was never enough! The Soulless are wicked, nothing more than sheep for me to use. They are not human! They have no souls. Jacob commands me to us
e the cure, so I can rule over the wicked forever.” A twisted smile spread across his face. “I have the Second Book of Jacob, one you’ve never seen, one only for high priests. It’s clear. I must follow his will.”

  Piers staggered backward and remembered what one of the newscasters said: “Some say he’s working on a drug that will let man live forever.”

  “Forever? You’ve changed the cure to provide immortality?”

  The High Priest folded his arms across his wide frame. “You really are special, almost as clever as your father. Now I will have to kill you, just like your parents.”

  Piers stumbled back against the window frame, the world closing in on him. “You started the fire? All this time I blamed myself.”

  “Me, Piers?” The High Priest pointed to himself. “No, not me. Now... Jonas might have a different answer.”

  Jonas shoved the desk to one side and lunged at Piers, grabbing his wrist. He twisted hard and Piers dropped the knife.

  “I enjoyed it,” Jonas sneered.

  Piers’s vision clouded over angrily. He swung a wild, looping punch at Jonas’s head, but the big man blocked the blow with his elbow and drove his right fist into Piers’s stomach, doubling him over.

  Piers fought to get air back into his lungs, and stuttered, “You’re as mad... as... Jacob was.”

  The High Priest rolled next to him. “What craziness are you talking about? Jacob saved Eden by sacrificing himself in the Forbidden Mountains. Everyone knows this.”

  Piers saw the spark of insanity in the High Priest’s eyes. “You don’t know about the file.” He laughed. “In the end, Jacob was as mad as you. He died in the Labyrinth under the ground, far from Forbidden Mountain. He died alone, scared and crazy, just like you will.”

  “Blasphemy!” The High Priest slapped Piers in the face with the back of his hand.

  Piers reeled from the force of the blow. The High Priest’s jeweled pinky ring had cut his cheek. “You’re sick, and Eden is rotten. You could save mankind, but instead, all you want is power. I’d prefer to live among the Soulless.”