6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 (37 page)

“My dad taught me all kinds of stuff. He was
the smartest guy I knew.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve. “Hey, I’ll
teach you to dive if you want.”

“Really? I’m a little scared to dive.”

“Yeah, everyone is scared at first. But you
just jump. And you remember that you’re falling into water. It’s
like falling into pillows. You’re not scared of pillows are
you?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’ll do awesome. The next time we
stop we’ll go diving.”

“Yeah!”

“Now really, go to sleep.” I can’t shake the
thought that I have nothing but this damn photo. I’m alone. And I
think, even though I don’t want to, that this is it. There’s
nothin’ after that light in our brains go out. Nothin’ that lasts
forever. No laughing or good times in heaven. But nothing means
there are no sad things either. Maybe when that day comes for me
I’ll be fine. I’ll fall into that endless nothingness and
everything will be gone. It scares me shitless thinking about it. I
press the photo of my parents to my chest.

M
y rear end is so
sore and raw from sitting on this camel day in and day out.
According to Mitchell, we entered Algeria an hour ago. I can’t
tell. All I know is that my posterior needs salvation in a big way,
and the temperature must be over one hundred degrees. My doctor is
going to smack me across the face for being so stupid with my old
bones. The horizon is nothing but sand and hills, quite a sight. In
contrast to the blue sky, the hills look yellow, their shadows
crisp and dark. This is God’s creation, and it has its own
beauty.

When the hills level out I can see the famous
mirage that looks like water just past our reach. And that’s where
it stays, just out of reach. We camp in the middle of nowhere,
without a tree in sight for the second night in a row. The
temperature at night drops to near freezing. It’s so cold my
muscles cramp up. We sit around a small coal fire. It will be our
last fire because we have no more coal. Mitchell pours hot water
into my mug. I stir in a spoon of sugar and some instant coffee.
We’d run out of the good stuff yesterday.

Mitchell studies the folder that I’d stolen
at the mosque. “It seems like these guys were mapping out the flow
of a virus across the United States.” He shows me the diagram.
“They illustrate multiple infection points. It would seem that the
best place to release a virus is in New York. From there it has the
best chance of spreading across the continent.”

“New York, huh?” I say. “The city that never
sleeps.”

“Millions come and go every day, two
international airports and lots and lots of people shoulder to
shoulder.” He scratches his beard. “Why would someone want to kill
the world?”

“God doesn’t want the world to end, but He’s
going to sacrifice it one day in order to make a Heaven on Earth.
See, it’s not about death; it’s about redemption. It’s not God’s
will; it’s His truth. You see, God doesn’t live by our definition
of time. He’s already witnessed the Apocalypse.”

Mitchell looks surprised. “Have you lost your
marbles, old man?”

I shake my head, “The Apocalypse will come.
Some think the signs are happenin’ today. I believe we should all
be living pure lives in preparation for the Second Coming.”

Mitchell waves me off, “I’m not a religious
man. To me that sounds like the same crazy stuff radical Muslims
blow themselves up for.”

“There are Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:
Conquest, War, Famine and Death. Conquest has already come.

The Book of Revelation says, I watched as the
Lamb opened the first of the Seven Seals. Then I heard one of the
four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come!” I
looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a
bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent
on conquest. The arrow symbolizes advanced technology. If you had a
bow in those days you were advanced. The bow and the crown, which
symbolizes modern technology and greed, spread across the world in
the ultimate conquest. Some call it globalism.

The second horseman is War. Again in
Revelations it says, When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard
the second living creature say, “Come!” Then another horse came
out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from
the earth and to make men slay each other. That would be the
Antichrist. The man that fits that description is Liam Gershald.
He’s the CEO of the Cantel Corporation. It was the Cantel
Corporation that hired a military to fight rebels in Somalia to
protect its assets, a historical first for a corporation. Now,
because the rebels were really bad guys, the world did not protest
or sanction the action. Gershald is working to get the United
Nations to depose of the Sudanese and the North Korean governments.
Some say he’s got influence in our White House. They are talking
about building the largest army in history to do it, a private
army, fighting three wars financed by corporate interests.”

Mitchell huffs, “Conspiracy theory. Blah,
blah, blah. You can’t prove it, but you can’t disprove it.
Convenient for your argument.”

I continue anyway, “The Third Horseman is
Famine. When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third
living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a
black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hands.
Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living
creatures, saying, “A quart of wheat for a day’s wages, and three
quarts of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and
the wine!”

This period of famine is important. It’s not
a famine of food you see. It’s a famine of energy. The oil is
drying up. The world hit peak oil production in 1998. That was
sixteen years ago. We use over three billion gallons of oil a day.
Oil will become so valuable it will ignite small wars on the planet
that eventually lead to one big war and the final days. We already
have five wars over oil in Africa. Three belong to the Cantel
Corporation and the United Nations alone.

When the Fourth Horseman arrives it will
bring Death. When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the
voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” I looked and there
before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hell was
following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of
the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild
beasts of the Earth. That’s when most of the people on this Earth
die. It will restart humanity. It may end a lot of suffering as
well as bring the righteous to God.”

“That sounds lovely, but isn’t it true that
in every century there are signs that the Second Coming is on our
doorstep? Weren’t the Crusades started because the church thought
that the war over Palestine was the war that will return Christ to
Earth?” Mitchell asks rhetorically. He’s a well-read man. “During
World War II people thought the same thing.”

“Yes. It is true.” I pull out a piece of
jerky and take a bite of it. “Whatever God’s plan is, I’ll always
be His humble soldier. And I do not pretend to know what His plan
is.”

“You do that.”

I flip through the red folder, find a
particular page, and show it to Mitchell. He reads it for me. “The
Stone of Allah is the hammer of Allah. It has brought death. It
will bring death again.”

“So, these guys think this stone will pave
the way for Allah to return?” Mitchell asks.

“We’ll, in truth, our version of the end of
times and the Muslim version aren’t that different. Details are
different, but the outcome is the same. The righteous will
survive,” I say. “You see, God plans things. There are reasons for
things. A purpose to all that we do.”

Mitchell takes the red envelop from me, “So,
you were destined to find this stuff? Why?”

“I will know in the days to come.” As I try
to sleep in the icy, dry air I can’t help but wonder why God has
sent me to this place and this time.

I relax into my bed, roll over, and stare
into the stars. The Milky Way stretches across the heavens like the
most intricately sewn silk embroidery, so perfect in its light, and
so vast. God is so much bigger than us. I can really unwind in His
presence. His plan for me will be known, and He will take care of
me.

I
wake up in one of
the staterooms of the
Pioneer
. I’d never slept on a boat
before. It’s such a nice feeling, the rocking back and forth. My
nose instantly picks up the smell of bacon. I leap up, throw on my
dirty sports bra, check my hair in the mirror — I regret looking —
and hurry out for breakfast.

Ben is cooking again. He doesn’t seem to
mind. He’s humming and flipping, stirring and mixing. He serves up
the fake eggs and the bacon and is all smiles. I guess cooking
cures the idiot in him, or maybe just pushes it below the surface.
Either way, he’s more pleasant to be stuck with now that he’s got
some way to contribute.

We’ve been on this boat for one day and one
night so far. Most of my worry and apprehension is fading. It’s
similar to approaching a vehicle that you’ve pulled over. You never
know who or what is in that car and what their state of mind might
be. It’s one of the most dangerous places to be when you’re a cop.
You’re vulnerable when you peek into that window. When you finally
see the person, you get a release. I’m feeling that release. It’s
remarkable how well we are all dealing with this tragedy.

After everyone eats, I help Markus and Josh
clean up.

Ian sips his coffee and stares off into
space. He then says exactly what I’m thinking, what we are all
probably thinking, “Why don’t I feel terrible? Billions of people
died just days ago. Shouldn’t we still be in mourning?”

“You don’t know how many people have died.
There are other continents,” Rice says. She scoops the remainder of
her eggs and bacon onto Andy’s plate. “Maybe it only hit the
states.”

“Well, technically, the virus could still be
crawling across the globe. Maybe reaching more secluded places by
now. We’re probably still in the middle of the event,” Josh
concludes.

“Event?” Rice snaps.

Ian goes up top. There’s fog all around us.
I’m surprised at how thick is seems. Ian looks over a map. “I’m
hoping we get to Atlantic City by nightfall. That way we can drop
anchor and no one will have to keep watch.”

Because it’s early morning, a cool breeze
flows over the boat. I feel it on my skin and smile. I look at Ian.
He smiles back. “Now, this is sustainable living,” he says. “Too
bad we have to use diesel fuel and not a renewable energy source
like solar panels.”

“I’m sorry, but this is far from
sustainable,” Markus says. He’s sitting on a cushion next to the
wheel. “We will run out of fuel eventually.”

“Already burned half the tank,” Isabella
mutters. She’s pacing for some reason. “And we’re not to Atlantic
City yet.”

“If we run out, we get more.” Ben says,
joining us up top. “Shit, we’ll need more gas for the stove, too,
eventually. Those four tanks won’t last us that long.” He’s sipping
on some rum.

“What if that gets harder to do?” Markus
asks.

Andy and Rice make their way up to join us.
“We’re not gonna be on this boat forever, are we?” Andy asks.

“No, just until we get to Cuba,” Rice
answers. “That’s not that long.”

“But I like it on the boat. There are no . .
. dead people.” Andy’s eyes are full of worry and fear.

“Then what?” I wonder.

“Eden is there. The survivor city,” Ian
says.

“Isn’t there a chance we get there and it’s
gone too?” Josh asks. “What keeps them from getting sick?” His
hands are shoved deep into his pockets and he shifts nervously.

Markus says, “‘A thousand shall fall at thy
side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come
nigh thee.’ That’s from Psalms.”

Tanis ignores Markus. “So, we’re gonna join a
bunch of survivors on Cuba and restart the human race?”

“As long as they have hot water, I’m in,”
Rice takes Ben’s rum and sips it. “We rebuild society and have some
babies.” She looks at Ian. I want to laugh, but I don’t. So she has
a crush on him. He’s a good looking man, and smart too.

“Maybe make some changes while we’re at it,”
Ian ads. “No more capitalism. We’ll just live off the land, keep
everything fair, and outlaw pollution of any kind.”

“What a pipe dream!” Ben snips. “Keep
smokin’. Then pass what you’ve got over here so I can puff puff,
too.”

“Shut it,” Isabella orders. “Ian’s right. We
make new rules. One’s that change things for good.”