by Len du Randt
People gathered between the numerous white tablet-shaped tombstones that covered the mount, all the way down to the Tomb of the Virgin Mary, and still further down the road. Stands for large, flat screen monitors and giant speakers were erected all over, so that all present could hear and see the message.
‘Move those people over here,’ a uniformed N-Force officer shouted to a group of people that didn’t have place to stand, and thus sat on the graves instead.
A hush fell over the crowd as someone stepped up to the podium.
‘It’s him!’ a woman from within the crowd shrieked. A few chuckles followed.
‘It’s Arch Bishop Pascale,’ someone else from within the crowd confirmed.
‘Thank you for the warm welcome and the generous hospitality,’ Antonio spoke into the microphone. ‘I am extremely honoured to be here today. We have a lot to cover, so I will be getting right down to the heart of the matter.’
The people cheered and clapped.
‘Please welcome with me, President Victor Yoshe.’
The crowd went fanatical as Victor made his way up the platform. He wore an expensive suit, and his smile exposed a set of teeth that appeared even more expensive than his clothes. The people pressed against each other for a better view, but N-Force promptly shoved them back into their respected positions.
Victor walked up to the podium, and shook Antonio’s hand firmly. It was the first time that they met face-to-face, but it appeared as if though they had been friends for years. Victor put his arm around Antonio’s shoulder, and together they waved at the cheering crowd.
The two men basked in their own glory for a few minutes before Antonio took a seat near the podium. On either side of him sat the other kings of the Empire, all dressed in their finest attire.
Victor waited for the crowd to settle down before he addressed them.
‘Friends,’ he said, ‘citizens of a united world. As my enlightened friend, Arch Bishop Pascale, I too feel much honoured to stand here today and speak to you.’
The people cheered and clapped again as GMN newspaper photographers snapped their shots of the man the world loved.
‘As you all know,’ Victor said, ‘all attempts to find the Pope has been unfruitful.’ He shook his head with a saddened expression, and some in the crowd mimicked him. ‘We can now only assume the worst.’
More motions of sympathy. Some Roman Catholics scattered between the Jews made the crucifix sign.
‘As you know, the Vatican used an internal voting process to expedite the selection of their new leader. It is thus my greatest honour and privilege to present to you on behalf of the Papacy, your new Pope, Antonio Pascale. Going forward, he will be addressed as Pope Alexander the Ninth.’
There was a moment of silence, and then an outburst of cheering and clapping as Antonio stepped up toward the podium. The two men embraced, and Victor then took a seat as Antonio took his place behind the podium.
‘I am honoured,’ Antonio said once the commotion had settled, ‘to be assigned to this position of highest esteem, and promise to uphold the moral standards that the Papacy has upheld until now.’
Nods of approval.
‘But I think that all will agree when I say that with all that have happened lately we can assume that there is no moral foundation anymore. The world is sick and needs a healer. People are lost and lonely, and in desperate need of a saviour; a Messiah.’
Nods of agreement.
‘For thousands of years, all people of all races and all religions believed that a Messiah would one day come to rescue them from spiritual and moral enslavement. Never would anyone have guessed that they were all waiting for the same Messiah, the same man to rescue them from the morass into which they were sinking.
‘I therefore would like to have the Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Christians, and all others that await their coming Messiah, realize that he has indeed come and has been living amongst us as a normal man.’
A hushed murmur passed through the crowd.
‘Yes, my friends,’ Antonio said and smiled. ‘The same Messiah that the Jews are waiting for is the one and same Messiah that the Muslims have been waiting for. It doesn’t matter what you call him. What matters is that he is here, and he will uplift and save us all.’
‘Who is he?’ someone from within the crowd.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, Jew and Muslim, I present to you your Messiah: President Victor Yoshe!’
That was the moment that the world stood still. Nothing made logical sense. There was no time and no direction. No hurt and no joy. For the briefest moment everything in the universe was quiet, and then, as Victor approached the podium, a clapping and cheering erupted from the crowd as everyone excitedly embraced the thought. He has come at last, some said. Others knelt down. But one thing was certain: no one there disagreed.
‘I am,’ Victor said and raised his hands. Everyone in the crowd collapsed instantly under his power, and it took a minute or so for them to gather the strength to get back up.
‘I have come to lead you, my good people,’ he said. ‘I have come to bring peace, hope, and a future.’
‘Behold the bread of life,’ Antonio said and pointed toward Victor. A moment later the people in the crowd gasped as small chunks of bread fell from the heavens. The people gathered and ate as much as they could hold on to. ‘Behold your Messiah!’
- - -* * *- - -
Andrew couldn’t believe his eyes as the ceremony at the Mount of Olives played off on live television. The entire ceremony and speech was impressive beyond comparison, and Andrew felt himself on an emotional roller coaster ride.
No! He rebuked himself. Get a grip on yourself man! What you just saw was deception, not truth!
He shot up a quick prayer for strength and protection, and strangely found himself rejuvenated. He checked his watch and then switched off the television and left his apartment.
Soon afterward, he was on an airplane headed towards New Zealand.
- - -* * *- - -
The cab ride from the airport to his parents’ home was one of deep thought and emotion. A year and four months have flown past since he last saw them. Although they kept regular email contact, he still felt somewhat estranged.
He waited for the cab to drive off before ringing the buzzer to their home. It wasn’t raining, but there was a sort of moistness everywhere, most probably caused by the overcast clouds. The weather isn’t what it used to be, he thought as he pressed the buzzer again.
‘Andy!’ his mother shrieked as she opened the door. ‘It’s so nice to see you again.’
‘You too, mom,’ he said and the two of them embraced.
‘Come in, come in,’ she said, eyeing the clouds. ‘It’s cold out here.’
He followed her down the corridor as familiar smells filled his nostrils. She had been baking. Even the carpet smells were still the same. He was home again. His father was already standing when they entered the living room.
‘Son,’ his father said and extended his hand.
Andrew took the hand and used it to pull his father into his arms. They both embraced and patted each other on the back, and then reassumed their formal attitudes.
‘So how are things nowadays, Andy?’
‘Things are fine,’ Andrew said, ‘just trying to make an honest living.’ A smudge on his father’s forehead distracted him. ‘Dad, you have something...’ he choked when he clearly saw what it was. ‘You have the mark...the Shield of Victor?’ He felt his legs go numb and his head started spinning. His heart beat furiously and he felt a nauseous patch in his stomach.
‘Andy?’ His mother asked and lightly touched his arm. ‘Are you all right?’
He stole a glance at her forehead, but there was no purple circle. Relief and dread engulfed him simultaneously as his mind tried to tell him that the Shield wasn’t really the Mark; that it was innocent. Alistair had been mistaken. Alistair wasn’t even real; just a figment of his exhausted imagination. ‘I...I’m okay,’ he lied.<
br />
‘You had us worried there for a moment,’ his father said.
Andrew didn’t know what to feel. Remorse and relief bombarded him at once, but it was when his mother gently tugged at his arm that he just lost control over his emotions and let out a sob. On the soft flesh at the back of her hand between the thumb and index finger, was a little purple circle with a Y in it.
‘What’s wrong, Andy?’ his mother asked. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ Andrew said and excused himself. ‘I’m a little tired from the trip. Just happy to see you guys again, that’s all.’
‘My poor boy,’ his mother said and guided him by the arm. ‘Get some rest. You’ve had a long trip.’
Andrew nodded and walked up the steps with his mother.
‘Get some rest, son,’ his father shouted after them. ‘We’re eating out tonight.’
- - -* * *- - -
Once the door was locked, Andrew broke down into heavy sobs. Why them, Lord? He wailed. Why? Why them? Why save me and not them? He shoved his face into a pillow. It’s not fair, Lord!
He cried for a few more minutes before slipping into a deep sleep.
- - -* * *- - -
The chirpy bleeps of his cell phone woke him. ‘Uh...Hello...’ He tried his best to hide the fact that he had been sleeping.
‘Hey bud,’ Trevor’s voice on the other side of the line came through. ‘Did I just wake you?’
‘No. Not really. Why?’
‘Just wanted to know that you made it okay; and also if you’re feeling better.’
‘I’m fine,’ Andrew lied. His eyes felt swollen, and he had to rub them hard to bring everything around him into focus. He checked his watch. It was 18:30P.M.
‘How are you, Trev?’
‘Same old, same old...you know.’
‘I’m sorry about yesterday,’ Andrew said. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you that early.’
‘It’s okay,’ Trevor said. ‘Shift work makes one used to all sorts of hours.’
Andrew smiled faintly.
‘Did you see the ceremony?’ Trevor asked. ‘That’s some pretty wild stuff, eh?’
‘I did,’ Andrew said. ‘What did you think about it?’
‘To be honest,’ Trevor said, ‘I don’t know what to think anymore. On the one hand I feel like it’s all one big scam, but on the other, I cannot deny the things happening around me.’
‘The blood in Jerusalem,’ Andrew said.
‘That Steven Edgar guy,’ Trevor added. ‘Not to mention the so-called ‘healings’ of Pascale. You know, I never used to believe in the supernatural, and nowadays, it’s kinda hard to avoid it.’
‘That’s true...’
‘Anyway,’ Trevor said. ‘Gotta go. There’s a call in the queue.’
‘Thanks for calling,’ Andrew said. ‘Promise me one thing.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Promise me that you won’t get the Shield.’
‘Now where did that come from?’
‘Just promise me; please.’
‘Okay bud,’ Trevor said. ‘I promise. We’ll talk when you get back, but for now, please just get some rest, okay?’
‘Thanks.’
Andrew dropped the cell phone on the bed. Please let it only have been a dream, Andrew prayed, but in his heart he knew that it was real. Both his parents had the Mark of the Beast. Why them, Lord? He tried calling on Alistair, but to no avail. He was alone. More alone than he had ever been in his life.
- - -* * *- - -
‘I’m getting the steak,’ Andrew’s father said and closed his menu.
‘And for the lady?’ the waiter asked.
‘I’ll have the Chicken Schnitzel,’ she said.
Andrew ordered a steak too, and after everyone had refined their order to a medium and baked potato with a side plate of salad, the waiter left.
‘Dad,’ Andrew asked, unsure as to how he should approach his father.
‘Yes?’ his father asked as he studied the wine list.
‘Can you remember how you told me years ago about an event called ‘The Rapture’?’
His father nodded. ‘Yes, Andy. Why?’
Andrew didn’t want to make it sound like a big deal. ‘Just wanted to know if you still believe in it?’ he asked.
His father shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, no,’ he said. ‘It’s hard to believe anything written in the Bible these days.’
‘And what about the Mark of the Beast?’
‘What about it?’
‘Can you remember warning me against it?’ Andrew asked. ‘Do you still believe that we’re headed toward a cashless society?’
‘I remember,’ his father said and smiled at his own ignorance. ‘But that was a long time ago. Look around you. We are already living in a cashless society; have been since the invention of the credit card.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Why all these questions?’ He saw Andrew’s eyes glancing at the direction of his forehead and did the math. ‘Do you think that this has something to do with the Mark?’ he asked as he tapped the purple circle with his finger.
‘I’m just speculating, Dad.’
His father laughed. ‘Son, are you actually listening to yourself?’
Andrew looked at his mother for backup, but she merely lowered her eyes, as if she were ashamed of what an embarrassment her son had turned out to be.
‘You’re the one who told me these things,’ Andrew defended his position. ‘You’re the one that taught me about a one world ruler called Antichrist, who would raise to power in the last days and implant chips on everyone’s right hand or foreheads.’
‘That was ages ago,’ his father said with certain finality in his voice. ‘If you’re referring to Victor Yoshe as the Antichrist, you’re way off. These cannot be the last days. A team of scientific researches just managed to find a way to manipulate the aging gene to the point where we could live up to a thousand years. Those researches were sponsored by President Yoshe himself. How could we live a thousand years if these were the last days?’
Andrew remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say.
‘Besides, the Shield isn’t a chip like the one you expect will be coming. It’s a part of my skin as much as a freckle would be.’
The waiter interrupted their conversation as he placed their food on the table. He asked if there was anything else, and when they declined, he left.
‘Those Bible stories are thought up fairy tales to scare people into obeying the governments and rulers,’ his father said. ‘Don’t speed, ‘cause speed kills, and thou shall not kill. Get what I’m saying?’
‘And aliens?’ Andrew asked. ‘How can you take proven text as fairy tales, but believe in something as ludicrous as aliens?’
‘Because they’re there,’ his father said. ‘They almost caused the destruction of this world, son. You saw it too.’
‘But did you actually see the aliens?’ Andrew asked his father, hoping that Alistair’s words would somehow make a difference.
‘By the grace of God, and President Yoshe’s military genius, I was spared that inconvenience.’
‘What would you say if someone told you that the ‘alien attacks’ were in reality the Rapture? That we have all been blinded and duped by a powerful spiritual force?’
‘I would say that they’re out of their minds,’ his father said. ‘Some people just never accept the truth.’
‘Speaking of truth,’ Andrew said. ‘Do you still believe in Jesus?’
Andrew’s father ate another piece of his steak, thinking deeply as he chewed longer than needed. ‘Don’t think so, no,’ he finally said. ‘If Victor is the Messiah, Jesus cannot possibly be too. There can only be one Messiah.’
‘No offence, Dad, but Victor is not the Messiah.’
‘Of course he is!’ Andrew’s father shouted out louder than he intended to. He slammed his fist on the table and Andrew’s mother let out a little shriek. ‘He saved the world from sudden destruction. He restored global economic chaos, he lift
ed the morale of the planet, and he even has abilities which no other man on this planet has ever displayed before, except maybe in comic books and movies. Now have you ever seen your Jesus in action?’
‘Not physically no, but blessed is he who has not seen, yet believe.’
‘Aw, get off it, Andy. I give you facts, you counter with fantasy. Forgive me if I rather follow the intellectual reasoning. How can you expect from me not to believe in aliens because I haven’t seen them, yet want me to believe in Jesus whom I have also not seen?’
Andrew realized that his father had made up his mind. According to the Bible, there would be no changing it back for those with the Mark. The reality of his parents hit him like scud missiles, and he just wanted to break down and cry for them. They finished their dinner, and after an awkward week where Andrew realized that it might be the very last time that he would ever see his parents again, he was on an airplane headed back to South Africa.
He couldn’t get his message through to his parents, but Trevor and René were still available to receive the truth. He prayed for his parents, Trevor, René, and his own protection from the terrible things to come.
.X.
The Two Prophets
Now when they have finished their testimony, the beast that comes up from the Abyss will attack them, and overpower and kill them.
- Revelation 11:7, NIV
The flying had worn Andrew out. He was both physically and emotionally drained, and just fell onto his bed after entering his room. The reality of his parents having the Mark still tore at his emotions, and he cried again. Confusion gripped him, and he wondered why the Lord would spare him, but not those most dear to him.
