A Pale Horse

  He switched it off.

  “With millions of deaths from the plague across the world, the whole world’s in a panic. No one’s asking questions about people disappearing . . . ” He raised his eyes to Jason. “Christians.”

  Jason was still pale. “General . . . ” His voice was very soft. “I need you to track the whereabouts of one Jontil Lucinda Purvis. She’s been missing.”

  He looked up at Julia.

  “And Polly Mitchell,” he said softly.

  He scrawled Jontil Purvis’s name, social security number, and address on a piece of paper, then wrote on another piece of paper, “Polly Winifred Mitchell. UK citizen. Can you have your people check those?” he said softly.

  Magruder put the list in his pocket. He nodded. “I’ll get back to you. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Casey will show you to your quarters. Tomorrow you see the ‘doctor.’”

  * * *

  Lucifer

  To my naive brother Gabriel,

  So, the Pale Horse and Nisroc have crossed the Kármán Line.

  The Rapture is over.

  He has finally rescued His mewling subjects from the coming Great Tribulation of the Race of Men, and no doubt the First Heaven is full of vain jubilation at His triumph.

  However, I would remind you, Gabriel, that the road to Armageddon is no doubt paved with Yehovah’s lofty intentions of saving other mewling masses of this pathetic mud-spattered orb who cry out to Him—pitiable intentions that will, in the coming months, be exposed as fruitless—even wretched.

  My son rises like a shooting star in the world of the Race of Men.

  They flatter him with their rhetoric, fawn and grovel at his feet.

  From the four corners of the earth they come, to seek his counsel at every turn.

  He rules over ten kingdoms.

  And shortly will amass an army of two hundred million to meet the Nazarene at Armageddon.

  Make no mistake. I shall be there to witness His defeat. The capitulation of the Nazarene.

  And as he defeated me on Golgotha, I shall ensure that his conquest in the land of his birth is a spectacle for all to see.

  But first things first.

  Once I have conquered the world of the Race of Men, who knows? Maybe I will reassemble my armies against the Most High . . .

  This thought intrigues me . . . which, in fact, reminds me of things closer to home. When will I be notified of our coming war?

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The First Heaven

  Nick stared around, disoriented.

  Just as suddenly as it had started, the vortex of light subsided. Jesus had disappeared. The last thing that he consciously remembered was gazing into His eyes.

  He stared down in wonder at the softly glowing, pulsating azure light enveloping him and tried to get his bearings. He seemed to be floating beneath a swiftly flowing current of water, but strangely, he was breathing quite normally. Nick frowned, then let the warm, glowing turquoise liquid run between his fingers. It was molecularly thicker than Earth’s water and had a completely different texture.

  Some sort of current seemed to be propelling him very gently downstream.

  He wasn’t sure whether he was in a sea, a lake, a river. All he knew for certain was that this was like nothing his senses had ever known. Each part of him felt alive in a way he had never experienced before.

  His body seemed to be imbibing minute particles of living light that bubbled around him. Each time the tiny light particles entered his body, the most incredible peace washed through his entire being.

  Peace. A wondrous, soothing peace.

  Even in his most ecstatic moments on Earth, nothing had come near the intensity of the sheer serenity and freedom he was experiencing now. The heroin and cocaine highs of his youth couldn’t touch whatever this was.

  He took another deep breath of the turquoise liquid, his mind racing.

  “I’m breathing in water.” He took a second deep breath. Another surge of ecstasy suffused his soul. “The Rapture.”

  And then it happened.

  It felt as if a giant hard drive in his brain began to be scrubbed clean. So gently. Every neurotransmitter seemed alive. Thousands of memories began to play as the water in front of him became a virtual screen. He stared at the images moving in front of his eyes and then being erased. He was injecting heroin, sniffing cocaine, fighting with James De Vere. Oh, no! The pantechnicon was speeding toward them. The accident. The worst day of his life. “Lily!” he shouted. Then the image was gone. He held his head. He thought there had been an accident, but the memory of it was totally erased.

  The warm liquid surrounded him like a spinning vortex. He was being propelled again at an amazing speed, now passing people who were floating just as he was. Each person he passed had the same expression of serenity.

  “Nicholas . . . ” A soft voice echoed through the liquid. He turned to his left.

  An incredibly beautiful woman in her late twenties, with soft, flowing black hair and wearing luminous white garments and gold, floated next to him. He took in a breath. Her beauty was, quite literally, breathtaking. She reached out her hand to him. He hesitated; there was something incredibly familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite define what.

  She smiled at him with such tenderness that Nick wanted to melt into her arms.

  “Don’t you recognize me, my darling Nicholas?”

  Nick shook his head, his eyes riveted to her face. Then he opened his mouth in wonder.

  “Mother,” he uttered.

  Lilian smiled at him “It’s the Waters of Life, Nicholas,” she said softly. “They transform us. By the time we see Him . . . ” She closed her eyes in ecstasy. “ . . . all of Earth’s sorrows, stresses, and pains have been washed away. These waters remove the scars and memories of earthly life and pain from the souls and minds of all who arrive within these gates.

  “Once our souls are healed, our bodies are free to be exchanged for a different type of matter.” She raised her hand to his. “Put your hand in mine.”

  Nick’s hand passed straight through Lilian’s. She smiled.

  “All these people . . . ” Lilian gestured to the thousands floating downstream past them. They have all been taken up through the Kármán Line. It’s the Rapture, Nick. You were taken in the Rapture.”

  “The Rapture—it actually happened.”

  Lilian nodded.

  A woman in crimson garments floated past them. Her face was literally engulfed with luminous light. As she floated past them blood seemed to be flowing from her neck and hands.

  “She’s bleeding . . . ”

  Nick reached out his hand as if to touch her. Lilian shook her head.

  “It is not her blood, Nicholas, but the blood of the one who laid down his life in the terrible sacrifice.

  “The fifth seal has been broken,” whispered Lilian. “These are the ones who loved not their life more than death. The tribulation martyrs are arriving. They have the greatest status in heaven.”

  She bowed very low to the one who passed.

  “The greatest sacrifice. The greatest privilege of all,” she said softly. “They have laid their lives down. For Him. He awaits these ones now beyond the Rubied Door. They will see His face first. And receive their crowns and flow- ing white robes, then join their brother- and sisterhood across the ages—other matyrs who were slain for Him —under the colossal carnelian altar. The souls of those who were slain.

  “I have to go, my beloved Nicholas. There are many more martyrs arriving. Your father and I are two of the many who have been chosen to assist in this hour.”

  “Dad?” Nick frowned. “He didn’t believe.”

  Lilian smiled softly. “Oh, but, Nicholas, only the great King Himself hears the voices that cry out to him from their deathbeds. Even the most agnostic cries bring him running to their aid if they genuinely call upon Him. After you have seen your King, you will come and be with us.” She smiled. “Your father has been longing to see you from the d
ay he arrived. We have so much to share with you.

  “Oh, our King has built for us such a glorious house. The emerald grass leads right down to our own beach. The shells are encrusted with living pearls.”

  She kissed Nick tenderly on the head. “There is someone else who awaits you. You are much beloved within heaven’s gates. And much beloved by your father and me.”

  Lilian vanished beyond his sight, further upstream.

  Nick looked down at the riverbed. For the first time, he noticed that it was covered by thousands of gleaming jewels. Or maybe it was because he had floated farther up the river. Nick reached out and picked up a huge, beautiful stone that emitted a crimson light. He studied it, still with an archaeologist’s eye. It looked like a ruby . . . and yet, again, the molecular structure was different.

  “Ah! You have chosen wisely, my dear Nicholas.”

  Nick looked up from the riverbed to see Jether floating by his side.

  “Jether?” He sighed in relief.

  Jether’s pale blue eyes twinkled. “In the twinkling of an eye, they shall be changed.”

  Jether gently took the ruby from Nick’s hand.

  “The jewels in the First Heaven have a completely different structure from those on Earth.”

  Nick nodded. “It seems lighter in weight.”

  Jether nodded. “Unlike earthly gems, it contains supernatural properties, my boy. Look . . . ”

  They both studied the riverbed. Nicholas looked at the ruby in Jether’s hand, then bent down and picked up a nondescript piece of wood, stained with crimson and lying alone on the riverbed.

  He grasped it in his palm, his eyes filling with tears.

  “There is a strange power in this . . . ” He held it out to Jether. “I don’t know what it means, but it fills my heart with pain.” Nick struggled to breathe. He started to sob wretchedly.

  Jether watched him compassionately. “You were drawn to what you hold, because it represents His healing powers. Your soul still bears many scars of the long and painful sickness that you walked through on Earth.

  “Even though Christos healed your body, Nicholas, your mind and your soul still bear the scars of the daily struggle with pain and disease—the trauma that is buried so deep in your subconscious. You have been unaware of it, but it has been trapped in your mortal body, affecting much of what you do. Many people are healed on Earth, but although their physical bodies have recovered, their minds and souls still bear great wounds. Our King who suffered so, physically on the cross, has never forgotten the trauma that caused him to sweat drops of blood in the garden. And that caused him to cry out, ‘Eloi . . . ’

  “There is hardly any greater loneliness experienced on Earth than that of those who suffer mentally, who suffer trauma. There is only one who truly understands the depth of what you suffered. There is only one who paid the price to truly set you free. There are those who are healed in their souls on Earth, but many arrive here with their minds and hearts still wounded from earthly struggles.

  “That which you hold in your hand—that which you chose—is a great gift to you from your King. It is hewn from the same mountain that the Rubied Doors of the throne room were carved from millennia ago.

  “It bears the blood of the great sacrifice, from the carnelian chalice, and contains powerful supernatural properties to heal your soul. Take it and eat.”

  Jether held the crimson-stained wood out to Nick, who frowned. “I can’t eat that.”

  Jether smiled. “Take and eat.”

  Slowly Nick brought the wood to his mouth. As he placed it on his tongue it dissolved into a honeylike substance. He felt a surge of electricity arc from the neurotransmitters in his brain to the soles of his feet. More freedom.

  Jether smiled. “You have two more choices. Two more stones to choose. Choose wisely. Take your time. You have all eternity.” Jether smiled tenderly at Nick.

  Nick stared down at the mass of colorful jeweled stones by his feet. Slowly he picked up an emerald green stone.

  “Ah,” said Jether. “The stone of the shepherd. You have chosen the heavenly emerald. It is the stone of green pastures. It restores your soul. Take it and eat.”

  Nick placed the emerald on his tongue. Again, it dissolved. He felt an infusion of comfort, of safety, of immense belonging and peace fill his soul.

  He gazed down at the riverbed, drawn to a small glowing aquamarine stone by his feet. He picked it up and studied it. It glowed in his palm, its color transforming to every shade of blue.

  Jether watched him intently. “We are nearly at the bank.”

  Nicholas tore his gaze away from the glowing stone and looked up. Above the water was a riverbank that stretched for miles. The meadows were greener than those in Ireland.

  Nick followed Jether out of the water and onto the bank. The grass sprang up under his feet.

  “It’s alive!”

  “Of course it’s alive—this is heaven.” Jether studied Nick, now clothed in white garments.

  “You are ready, Nicholas. I have been chosen by Yehovah Himself to mentor you,” Jether said softly. “I mentored Michael, Gabriel, and Lucifer, but never before in the history of the First Heaven has an angelic king been elected to mentor one of the Race of Men. Nicholas, open your hand.”

  Nick opened his palm. The beautiful aquamarine stone lay exuding rays of light.

  “The stone of the seer.” Jether closed his eyes. “To see God face to face—this is your destiny. You have been chosen.”

  Jether pointed a trembling hand over toward Eden. “There is Yehovah’s garden.”

  Nick followed Jether’s gaze to a flashing dark cloud of blue lightnings.

  “Beyond the cloud, Yehovah walks. Few of the Race of Men, both on earth and even here in the First Heaven, venture beyond the dark cloud. They see Yehovah on His rubied throne, but he has specifically asked for you. To see Him face to face.”

  “I can’t,” Nick said, a strange dread gripping his heart. “I’m not worthy.”

  Jether gently took his hand. “Only one is worthy, Nicholas. And His sacrifice is enough.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Illuminus Headquarters USA, Chinatown, New York City

  Jason and Julia followed Magruder into the sanatorium.

  “We’re prepared for every eventuality, Jason,” the general said.

  A thin man in a white coat walked in, a stethoscope draped over his neck. He walked over to a safe. Magruder followed him and placed his eye on the iris recognition scanner. The doctor opened the safe and took two glass vials from a row of at least ten.

  “We don’t have much of it,” Magruder grunted. “Keep it for our friends or friends of our friends.”

  “It’s like gold,” the doctor said, shaking the vials. He removed a syringe from its wrapper and started to fill it from a vial.

  “No.” Jason shook his head.

  The general turned his laptop screen to Jason. “In the event that any of us are caught,” he said, “the first thing they’ll do is inject us with the Mark, to rewrite our DNA. We’re more useful to their cause as their pet supersoldiers, or whatever it is they’re concocting, than dead.

  “This . . . ” Magruder took the vial from the doctor’s hand and tapped it with his finger and thumb.

  “This, Jason De Vere, is the only obstacle to your brother and his iniquitous cronies rewriting the human race’s genetic code for their malevolent purpose, whatever that may be. The liquid contained in this vial, once injected into a human being, renders their DNA-rewriting program null and void. The Mark has no effect. Roll up your shirtsleeve.”

  Jason sighed. He rolled up his shirtsleeve. The doctor stuck the needle in and studied a monitor intently. A minute later, he nodded to Magruder.

  Julia looked over to Jason. He nodded, and she reluctantly rolled up her tracksuit sleeve. She winced as the needle plunged into her skin.

  The doctor studied the monitor’s readings one more time and nodded.

  “You’ll
be transported by railcar to our hangars,” Magruder said. “A military aircraft will fly you to our safe house in Kansas. All being well, you should arrive safely in Jordan by tomorrow nightfall.”

  “Never count your chickens before they hatch.”

  Jason froze. He would know those elegant tones anywhere.

  “Uncle Xavier!”Julia gasped.

  They both turned.

  Xavier Chessler nodded. General Magruder’s own Serbian militia captain now held Magruder in a stranglehold.

  “Unfortunately, General, over eight hundred of your military were our plants. We’ve been watching your every move and planning this for two years. We let you exist.”

  Chessler nodded again.

  “By the way, Magruder, you grossly miscalculated—you’re far more useful to us dead.” He nodded.

  A soldier sliced through Magruder’s throat with one thrust of his knife. Blood spurted from both severed carotid arteries, and the general dropped to the ground like a sack of cement.

  Julia shook with terror and started to sob.

  Jason gripped her arm. “Don’t let him see your fear,” he whispered. “These cowards feed on fear.”

  “I think the party has quite literally ended, children.” Chessler smiled.

  He took Julia gently by the arm.

  “What were you thinking of, my dear, sweet Julia? What lies has Jason here filled your pretty head with? It’s quite pointless to struggle. The militia on all seven floors were slaughtered in the first three minutes of our arrival. Macgruder and his underground base have been under surveillance for over four years. We’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to exterminate them. We’re ever so grateful to you both.”

  He nodded to a soldier, who shoved Jason to the floor. Jason’s jaw hit the concrete; blood gushed from his mouth.

  Chessler’s eyes were cold. “Only these two survive. Take them to the containment center.”

  Jason and Julia were hauled at gunpoint into an elevator. They were escorted out the warehouse door and into one of three waiting black Chinook helicopters in the empty parking lot. Chessler followed them inside and settled himself into the seat opposite them. He turned to the pilot.