Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy (14 page)

Marcus laid his hand over hers and squeezed for all he was worth. “I’m trying to be strong.”

“You are.”

“No.” He shook his head, his words choking. “I’m falling apart, Reg.”

“Yeah, well, you go on. You fall apart. It’s all right. But don’t think for one second I won’t bend down and pick up the pieces with you. I love you too much to let your life stay shattered.”

A sob. A heartfelt, heavy sob. Marcus bounced forward and began to shake.

“Marcus,” Reggie whispered, reaching around his body and turning him around.

Marcus fell into her, head buried in her shoulder, arms clutching. His legs faltered beneath him. Reggie took the weight. She clenched him, cradled his head, and held him up for as long as she could before lowering him to the floor.

They sat for an indeterminate time. Marcus’ sadness expressed itself in muffled breaths in Reggie’s arms. When his trembles finally stopped, still, he did not move.

Reggie heard his long breath of relief as Marcus pulled back from her. His expression was one of gratitude.

“You said a lot, Reg. Thank you.”

“Well.” She raised her eyebrows. “I kind of ignored some heavenly advice I was given. Michael knew I was talking to you and he told me not to say too much, to let you listen to my heart.”

“You followed his advice.” Marcus shivered. “I heard your heart very clearly.”

“That’s because your head was right here.” Reggie nodded and pointed to her chest.

Marcus smiled and traced a gentle path with his fingers down her chest. “And...” he took a long breath, “...speaking of guardian angels, where is yours? He was looking for you.”

“I asked him to stay with Seth while you and I talked. He’s telling him a story about his great battle or something.”

“Oh Reg.” Marcus moved all the way back and sat on the floor across from her. “The final battle? When heaven and hell separated?”

“I guess,” she shrugged.

“That could be a violent story.”

“Marcus, please. They’re angels. How violent can they get? A slap here and there...”

They heard Seth scream, and jumped up.

“Mom! Mom!” Seth cried out, his voice getting closer, until he burst into the room. Without hesitation, he leapt to the bed and catapulted into his mother’s arms.

“Seth?” Reggie put her arm around him. “What’s wrong?”

“Him.” Seth pointed to the door to where Michael had abruptly materialized.

Michael walked in. “He ran from me. You can tell he is your offspring.”

“What did you say to him?” Reggie asked.

“I was telling him the story of my battle. I was merely recounting the battle scene where arms and legs of fellow angels hung from trees as decorations of....”

“Stop.” Reggie held up her hand and moved a clinging Seth from her legs to Marcus’. Marcus lowered his head, stifling a snicker, as he watched Reggie approach Michael.

“You told a massacre story to an eleven-year-old boy?” Reggie demanded.

“I told him the truth.” Michael raised his head. “It was... clean.”

“My son is distraught.”

“Your son moves with haste and is of little patience, like his mother,” Michael said. “And...” He stepped further into the room. “I see you two have spoken. Marcus, do you feel better?”

“Yes,” Marcus nodded. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Michael reached out and grabbed Reggie’s arm. “We must work. Goodbye, Marcus. Young Seth.” Without getting an argument or waiting for one, Michael led Reggie by the arm, out of the room.

Marcus smiled at Reggie’s, “Hey, let go!” He looked down to Seth. “Okay now?”

Seth pulled back and hopped onto the bed.

“You weren’t really scared, were you?” Marcus asked.

“No way. I see worse in my video games,” Seth scoffed. “He was getting boring, and my game has been on pause forever.”

Marcus shook his head. “Go play your game.”

“Thanks.” Seth jumped off the bed and flew toward the door. His tennis shoes squeaked when he stopped and spun to face Marcus. “Want to play? I’ll start over again.”

“No,” Marcus shook his head. “You go on.”

Seth shrugged and darted out of sight. Marcus started to sit, but suddenly yelled, “Seth, wait for me! I want to play.”

“We estimate seventy percent,” said Jack Ross, formerly of FEMA. “Not too bad.”

Leonard nodded his head, impressed. “And you’re off to the St. Louis camp today.”

“Within the hour.” Jack looked at his watch.

“Good to have you onboard, Jack.”

“Where I want to be. You know I’m an apocalypse monger,” Jack snickered. “But, honestly Leo, how long am I onboard for?”

“What do you mean?” Leonard asked.

“With seventy percent of the cities vacated, we’re losing power left and right. Lines of communication are dropping. The Midwest has no phone service. And at last check with our military, we’re losing them in droves.”

“I’m aware of it. Still, we have a lot of the population moving into the camps. Correct?”

“The ones who haven’t gone to the hills or underground.”

“Those not in camps will eventually starve. In the next two days we move everything we have to these sites, including all surplus food. We have men we can count on at every site, right? They’ll be in strict control of the armored divisions, plus the mobile greenhouses will be transported and in place soon. People will see that when the dust settles, we’ll be taking care of them.”

“Ergo, they won’t bite the hand that feeds them,” Jack smiled.

“Exactly.” Leonard clenched his fist. “We just need to pound in the notion that they made the right decision to leave themselves to our care.”

“What does Devante say?” Jack asked.

“His people are spreading the word, the good news... the gospel, as it were,” Leonard smirked. “And that’s enough for now. Everything’s falling apart, and he has to grab it. And you and I both know actions speak louder than words. What we need is one more loud action.”

“President O’Neill.” General Admen walked into the office. “We have a situation,” the general said. “Got a call... the emergency line from Russia.”

“What the hell do they want now?” Leonard whined.

“It’s serious. Russia... Russia has made a last-ditch attempt to reach us.”

“To ask for help?” Leonard asked.

“To warn us.” General Admen tossed a folder on the desk. “Seems their strategic defense computer system went south, froze... at a countdown to launch in seventy-two hours.”

“Actions speak louder than words.” Leonard looked at Jack. “Bingo.”

Kyle was convinced it was some sort of secret code. He tried for hours to decipher it. Michael kept insisting he “find the old flower woman” and bring her under the roof for safety. Finally, he realized it was Marcus’ old aunt
Rose
. Kyle went to Erie, Pa to retrieve her. He got a late start and wasn’t back until sundown, was tired and cranky when he pulled up. Everyone sat on the front porch, as if it were some ho-hum summer night. He hoped they had saved him some food.

“Thank you, Kyle,” Aunt Rose said as he led her up the walk. “Look here, they even saved me a seat. How ya doing there, Liza? And there he is... my boy.” She hobbled her petite body to Marcus and embraced him from behind. “Lookie how grown up you got.” She smothered him with kisses. “An’ where is Reggie? I heard you two’s having a baby.”

Marcus smiled. “That plan changed, Aunt Rose.”

“You not having a baby? Ain’t no one told me. Is ya fooling around?”

Marcus blushed. “Reg and I are working through things.”

“Good boy. But where is she?” No sooner did she ask than Reggie’s plaintive voice sounded from the living room, bickering with Michael. Aunt Rose sat down in a chair Kyle held out for her.

“Don’t ask me not to laugh,” Reggie said as she walked onto the porch.

“Why do you mock my garment?” Michael asked, following.

“Your skirt.” Reggie nodded.

“It allows freedom to move and is more easily removed than those ‘blue jeans’ as you call them. Look.” Michael grabbed hold of what looked like a drawstring.

Reggie stopped him. “We don’t expose ourselves to our loved ones,” she smiled. “It’s impolite.”

Michael looked up, seemingly embarrassed. “I apologize.” He bowed. “Ah, I see you found the old flower woman.” He nodded to Rose.

Aunt Rose gave Michael the once-over, then said, “Just so you know, I never heard the rule you can’t take off your skirt on the porch.”

Kyle interjected, “Are we going to talk, or stare at his bare legs? You two, sit, be cordial or be off.” Kyle sat down. “I just want to relax.”

Reggie sat next to Marcus.

Michael quickly stepped over to her. “Reggie, you should sit beside me.”

“I’m fine over here. We’re all on the porch, so it counts.” She whispered to Marcus, “At least he can say my name now.”

Michael sat likewise. “Ah, this is very nice sitting outdoors such as this.”

“Really?” Kyle asked. “I’d think with all that training you would have had enough of the outdoors. How is it going?”

“Strategy today, Daddy,” said Reggie. “No action.”

“Well,
strategically
, you should try to find Marybeth in one of those prisoner camps,” Kyle suggested. “I don’t have any idea where they are.”

“Michael does,” Reggie said.

Kyle turned to Michael. “You know where they’re keeping the people they arrested?”

“I do,” Michael answered. “The camps are well-guarded and isolated. We will need many men to free those from one camp.”

“Then we’ll go get them, and do it as soon as possible,” Kyle said.

“We cannot,” Michael replied. “We must acquire and train them. Then we will go.”

“That will take time,” Kyle argued. “We don’t have time.”

“Yes, we do,” Michael assured him, folding his hands. “If we go in ill-prepared, we will lose. If we go in prepared and too soon, we still lose. We must free only those who do not follow this Devante... thank you very much, Marcus.”

“That’s bullshit,” Kyle complained.

“‘Bullshit?’” Michael repeated. “Reggie, you must mark that on your list of things to teach me.” He turned back to Kyle. “You must not argue with me, Kyle. I know you are wise, but on this subject I am wiser. Those of true faith will remain in the camps; those who are blind will fold. Let time weed out the true believers for us. Then there is less chance deceivers will enter our camp.”

“You have a point,” Kyle said.

“The plan I have discussed with Reggie is to assemble our army from freed prisoners. Devante is preoccupied with building his believers at this time. But he will move on to those he calls the non-believers. I know this Devante who has entered your world... thank you very much, Marcus.”

Marcus turned to Reggie. “What have you been up to?”

Reggie shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I’m confused,” Kyle said. “Is Devante out to destroy the world or take it over?”

“In Devante’s mind taking it over
is
destroying it,” Michael explained. “We are not experiencing God’s plan. That is not set for many, many generations. Yet, when the doorway was opened for Devante, he seized it… thank you very much, Marcus.”

Marcus glared at Reggie.

Michael continued, “By entering our world... thank you very much, Marcus... he has a chance to subvert God’s prophecy by falsely fulfilling it himself. It has been Devante’s strongest desire to kill all of God’s life ever since he was cast from heaven.... thank you very much, Marcus.”

When Reggie snickered again, Michael turned to her. “Why is it you find humor when I am about to detail the prophecy?”

“Sorry. Go ahead.” Reggie wiped away her smile.

Michael tried to continue. “Devante... thank you very…”

“Stop that!” Marcus snapped.

“I mean no offense, Marcus, I am simply acknowledging due responsibility to you in the fashion Reggie has taught me.”

“I think…” Marcus gave a wink. “You’ve been misled.”

Michael scolded, “Woman.”

“I hate when you do that!” Reggie griped. “Just list the prophecy.”

Michael looked at each in turn. “Devante is fulfilling his own prophecy, his own agenda by methodically executing each step of the real prophecy to completion.” Michael’s expression turned solemn. “The steps are: one, the arrival of the antichrist; two, the continuous destruction of Babylon by the elements; three, the growth of belief in the false prophet and the rapid growth of his armies; four, the death of kings and corruption of power; five, persecution and martyrdom of holy men and the rise of false prophets. The final debacle sets man against man and the destruction of millions by famine, plague, natural catastrophe and military slaughter of the innocents. Then the great battle, the fall of Satan.” He took a breath. “And finally, the rebirth of earth into the Promised Land.”

Kyle looked at Michael. “So Devante is indirectly fulfilling God’s overall plan in the exercise of its opposite, his self-fulfilling prophesy”

Michael answered, “And I am here to aid in that final battle.”

“But.” Kyle held up his hand. “If this wasn’t God’s plan, and Marcus rushed Devante into the world prematurely, how does that affect the final battle? The Promised Land?”

“Only God can rebirth the earth. Devante cannot. But, as I said, God has no intention of doing so for a very long time. But the end, brought on by Devante and man, is nearing, and God has decided to step in,” Michael added. “However, there will come a turning point for humankind, one which may be too late.”

“The great battle.” Kyle whispered. “If we lose, there’s no Promised Land.”

“No,” Michael answered. “No Promised Land. If we lose, God will destroy the earth altogether, damning Devante again and sending his damned souls with him to hell. Or God will abandon man. Thus causing the creation of... hell on earth.”