Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy (6 page)

The diner had long since stopped trembling. Reggie wondered when her stomach would do likewise. Groaning, she rolled out from under the protective shelf. As she stood, her legs wobbled and gave way briefly. She caught herself before she tumbled onto the tiled floor.

A fog of dust threw her into a coughing fit.

She reached back under the counter and offered her hand to Marcus.

“You all right?” he asked, gripping her hand, and emerging.

“Yeah,” she replied, dazed in the darkened diner, the light a mere hint. She scanned the room, everything was scattered about.

“Oh my God,” Marcus uttered. “How did we survive this?”

“Call me nuts but I’m starting to think we’re somehow being tested… or at least prepared.”

“For what?”

“Ask me in a few days. I’ll know then.”

Marcus’ smile was quirky as he shuffled around the counter, tripping over some still intact plates on the floor, his eyes rendered ineffective by the dirt-covered windows.

“Please don’t tell me we’re buried,” Reggie said.

Marcus stumbled over to the window. “No, no,” he said with some excitement. “It’s only a light covering, see, the sun is peeking through.”

Reggie let out a long breath. “Should we go or stay here?”

“Go,” he replied with certainty. “But we should load up on supplies, cereal and such. We may have to walk for a while.”

“Oh, good idea.” Reggie looked around for the duffel bag. “Where did I...?” She saw Marcus pointing up. She glanced to the ceiling where the duffel bag hung on the blade of a ceiling fan. “Swell.”

Marcus pulled a chair under the fan and retrieved the bag. “Could be worse.”

“Maybe it is. Let’s look outside.” Reggie walked from the counter.

Marcus followed her to the door.

Reggie hesitated before she opened it. “I hope it’s better than it felt.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” replied Marcus, leaning over a booth and peering out.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Reg! Stop!”

Too late. Reggie stepped out.

Luckily, Reggie was facing the diner as she took that first step, into thin air. She was able to catch herself, instinctively grabbing for any handhold when the floor dropped out. She gripped the doorjamb, hands clamping true. Then she screamed when the door swung closed.

Seconds later, she felt Marcus’ hands around her wrists. “Hold on,” he said.

“Oh my God.” Reggie looked over her shoulder at a thirty-foot drop.

Marcus levered her and Reggie scrambled up.

“How did we get up here?” Reggie asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated, and then inched inside. Finally secure, she caught her breath and was able to appreciate the view outside the diner. It wasn’t much. As far as the eye could see all was leveled, a long endless carpet of dirt.

Marcus fashioned a dozen of Buffy’s finest linens into a makeshift ladder and threw it over the threshold. They lowered the bags first, then Reggie and Marcus descended. It didn’t quite make it to the ground, so they had to drop the final few feet. After Reggie descended, the rope snapped, and Marcus crashed down. Fortunately, he landed on a soft mound of dirt.

The cloud of dust blinded him and sent him into a coughing spasm. He waved his hand comically in front of his face as if he could ward it off. “No, Reg. I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Huh?” Reggie turned to Marcus. “Oh shit, did you fall?”

Marcus grunted and brushed himself off. “You were supposed to be watching.”

“Oh, Marcus,” Reggie sighed. “I was. Look.”

Marcus turned to see....

Nothing.

No buildings, no road. Thick brown dirt beneath a remarkably blue sky. The dirt had formed one small cliff like structure and it cradled the diner high off the ground. Almost as if the dirt was a wave.

“What now?” Reggie asked.

“We walk.”

“Direction?”

“East.”

“Okay,” Reggie stated. “How do we determine east?”

“I’m a scientist, Reg, please.”

Momentarily impressed, Reggie frowned when she saw Marcus peer at his watch.

“What are you doing?”

“East.” He picked up their gear and turned to the right. “My watch has a compass.”

“Oh my God, you are a nerd!”

“Is that necessary?” Marcus handed her a bag. “Let’s try to head out of this destruction.”

“Devastation of fire and brimstone.”

“What?” Marcus chuckled.

“I did have doubts about Devante’s biblical power of prophesy, but hell, look around.”

Marcus slowed. “Reg, please, it was a meteor. Nothing more, nothing less. A meteor.”

“Are you convincing yourself or me?”

“Both,” Marcus said. “I guess I can’t let myself attribute such power to Devante. I can’t. I refuse.” He paused. “So, a meteor. It’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Not biblical, not supernatural.”

As he said these words, a sudden vibration began, rumbling in the air, and then from the ground beneath. Marcus grabbed Reggie and tried to keep them steady, but it was useless. As they tumbled to the ground, they could hear an ear-piercing creak, like timbers cracking.

Seconds later, speechless and disoriented, they glanced over to see the last remnants of the diner disappearing into the earth. The ground stopped shaking. Dead silence.

Reggie stood and brushed herself off. “‘Nothing biblical,’ you were saying?”

Marcus picked up their bags with trembling hands, and then grabbed Reggie’s arm. “Let’s just walk.”

“Yes, children, the truth can be frightening.” Devante’s deep voice reverberated over the loud speaker with a slight echo.

This time, however, his words did not bring excited cheers, but sorrowful cries and whimpers. His voice was soothing, comforting.

“It was a painful deliverance. And a necessary awakening. However, the thunder of the sky, the flames of vengeance did not awaken all. There are still many in the world who do not believe. Infidels are forming groups as we speak… to vanquish me. I know this. It has happened before. I am not afraid. But the signs will continue. You, my dear people, have witnessed on your continent what will become of your green earth, indeed of your world, if you do not change. Now, before the sun sets, the other side of the world shall witness it as well. A great sea separates many countries and cities. Today the floor of this great sea will buckle. Water will rise and form a great wall that will wash away the cities that surround it.” He paused as he swept the crowd with his eyes. “There is nothing that can be done. There is nothing that can stop this.” Devante lowered his head as if in sadness. “But... there is still time. You. You who are here. You who listen to me here and through your devices in your homes, you who believe in me, you are shined upon. The others, who do not, must be cast out in order for the destruction to cease.”

A moaning uproar emanated from the crowd, mass questioning, and mass fright.

Devante waited for them to quiet down. “You can say ‘No’. You can allow the unbelievers to destroy your earth. Look around. Look at the trees, the grass, the fields, they die. But, if you go to the home of the man who does not believe in me, see that his home flourishes, his land feeds him. He is protected by a force we do not want to be a part of. As long as he remains, he will take the green land from you.” Devante paused. “Cast him out. Do you know of anyone, your neighbor, your friend, your father, your mother? Do they not believe? Do their gardens grow? They follow the wrong path... Cast them out. Harsh words. Harsh truth. This world will end. You can stop it. Let our numbers alive be greater than the 144,000 predicted in your ridiculous
Book
of
Revelation
. Only you can make the change.” His voice softened. “I know you are afraid. You seek these words from the Bible: ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

Devante paused, looking out among the crowd, his voice a sudden force. “Wrong!” The word echoed throughout the rumbling, murmuring crowd as Devante’s voice grew in crescendo. “Your New Testament... wrong! Everything you have been taught about your God is wrong!”

The people went crazy with panic and screaming.

“Listen to me!” His command silenced them. “God is not a God of love, understanding and forgiveness. He is a God of vengeance, fury, wrath and punishment. Take a look at the place you called Chicago! By our sun’s setting, take a look at the cities that will be buried with the waters of the sea. You want an end? You want the punishment to stop? The wrath to cease? You know what you must do. You know where to look for your answers. Seek!” Devante shouted deeply. “And you shall find....” He dropped his voice. “Me.”

The moment Devante spoke his final word, a rush of people charged the stage, screaming his name over and over, the stadium a sea of waving hands.

Devante stepped back and slipped behind the curtain to the quiet backstage.

The screams faded as Devante retreated into the bowels of the stadium, where Rev. Bailey waited.

Slowly, Rev. Bailey lifted his eyes and shut his Bible.

“I spoke to them.”

“I heard,” Rev. Bailey said softly, his voice spiritless.

“Do you have any questions of me?”

“As a matter of fact...” Rev. Bailey stood from his seat and walked toward Devante. “I do. Why would you say what you did?”

“It is the truth.”

Rev. Bailey’s calmness abandoned him. His face flushed in anger. “You lie.”

“You dare take that tone with...”

“I’ll take any tone I please!” Rev. Bailey charged. “You said not to call you ‘Jesus.’ I wondered why. Now I know. You said God is not a God of love, forgiveness and understanding? How blind can one man be? Yes, I wanted answers, any answer.”

“Do not preach to me!” Devante demanded.

“Do not preach to these people!”

“It is my work!” Devante said. “Do not question it.”

“Like you told those people out there to question the Bible?” Rev. Bailey chuckled. “And I’m as much a fool as them. You denounce the Bible. Why? It holds the truth. You ridiculed the
Book
of
Revelation
. Why? Because it tells about you.
You
are not the Savior!”

“I am the savior of this earth!”

“No. You are the deceiver.” Rev. Bailey’s arm flew out. “And you are here to deceive the people of the four corners of the earth. Your numbers will be as many as the sands on the beach. And, Dear Sweet Lord in Heaven above...” Rev. Bailey stepped back and breathed out. “I helped you.”

“And you did your job well,” Devante said, and he turned and walked to the door.

Click-click.

Devante stopped cold.

“My job...” Rev. Bailey began, his voice soft and resolute, his hand firmly gripping an extended revolver. “...is not done.”

Devante spun quickly, his eyes piercing. “You dare to aim a weapon at me!”

“Oh, I dare to do more than that!” Rev. Bailey chuckled bitterly. “I have erred. A fool’s choice, a test I failed. Though my mistakes of the past cannot be undone, I can change my mistakes of the future.”

“You ramble like a fool.”

“No.” Rev. Bailey shook his head. “I speak rationally.”

“You think you can destroy me?” Devante taunted, nearing the Reverend.

Rev. Bailey smiled. “I do. You see, even though your being is the bile of hell itself, your body is still that of a man. And you will die as easily as any man.”

“That may be true.” Devante’s voice dropped. “But lest you forget... your soul... is mine.”

On this last word, which penetrated the reverend’s heart, Devante’s hand closed and flashed out in a blur, his massive fist slamming into the reverend’s face. In a split second the reverend was nose-to-nose with Devante a foot in the air. He could smell the brimstone of his breath.

The unearthly scream that followed was as if all the souls of hell were crying in unison.

Devante inhaled deeply. Rev. Bailey shook out of control as his body dehydrated and dissolved, until nothing more than a mass of leathery flesh was left of Rev. Bailey.

Devante turned and walked out.

Devante met with President Nelson at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, aptly enough, in the Presidential Suite. No security accompanied the President, not even the Secret Service. President Nelson sipped on a brandy and paced. Devante sat calmly and comfortably.

“I understand the destruction that could happen,” President Nelson said, forlornly. “I don’t want the world to end.”

“Does any man?” Devante asked.

“But can we stop it?” President Nelson countered. “Truly, can we?”

“You ask me if it can be stopped. I have already told the answer to that question.”

“A harsh answer.” President Nelson paused, and then said, “What it boils down to is you want to pretty much eliminate all those who don’t believe.”

“The people want the believers eliminated. They are the cause of the world’s end.”

“I want to help...”

“Then do it.”

“But the only way is to make a sweep of this country, full force?”

Devante peered up at the President. “I know you are planning to keep order with your many soldiers. It would take little to turn your military into police men.”

“You mean arrest those who don’t believe?” President Nelson asked.

“I have my own people, they will help. They will find the non-believers. But your army must seek them out as well. Find them. Take them.”

“And do what?”

Devante hesitated, dramatically it seemed, before answering coldly. “Kill them.”

“That’s insane.”

“They threaten humanity and the prolonged existence of mankind on this earth.” Devante rose slowly from the couch and looked down at President Nelson. “Soon, all will see that, and you will lose control of your army if you do not partake in the purification. You ask me how to stop this. And I tell you simply. Yet you balk at what I say.” Devante moved toward the door and stopped. “I hear tales about you. Stories. They say you are a leader without a strong will. Or courage. A man without a spine.” Devante paused. “Prove them wrong. Show them that you will stop at nothing to save lives, no matter how extreme.” Devante opened the door and looked once more at President Nelson. “Dream well.”