I, Judas the 5th Gospel (8 page)

Gates slumped back on the floor of the helicopter, utterly exhausted. He closed his eyes, and within a minute, he was asleep.

It was not a comfortable sleep as dark dreams forced their way through his mind. As the helicopter raced toward Kandahar, Gates moaned and cried out in his own private darkness.

The Xingu River, the Amazon Basin: The Guide

In the early afternoon light, the young woman sat on an old log outside the small church, running the Rosary beads through her fingers as she prayed. She came here, every day she was in town, in the exact same spot, where she was face to face with the stained glass image of the Virgin Mary set in a window on the side of the church. She was dressed in loose fitting, worn khaki pants and shirt, which served to camouflage her tight, muscular body. On the log next to her was a battered military-style backpack with a well-honed machete strapped to one side. Strapped to the other side was a homemade sheath containing a pump action shotgun with the barrel sawed back to the magazine tube. The worn smoothness of the wood around the grip of the machete indicated it had spent a considerable amount of time in her hands.

Her dark, extremely curly hair was shorn tight to her skull, obviously the work of a steady hand and scissors, rather than a stylist. Her complexion and exotic facial bone structure gave little hint to her ethnic background, except to indicate that she was not native to this place. However, both sides of her face were lined with black tattoos that were indecipherable to anyone outside of the Kaiyapo, the local Amazonian tribe.

She heard the church door creak open followed by shuffling footsteps in the dirt, but did not turn her head toward the front of the church, although she did stop praying. The footsteps halted and she finished her prayer.

“Father,” she finally called out.

The old priest smiled. “You always know it’s me. It must be as people say,
you have eyes in the back of your head
.”

She raised a hand and touched her ear. “I can hear. No one else walks like you.”

The priest came to the log and sat down heavily, as if he bore a hefty burden. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How have you been, Angelique?”

“Very well, Father. The last group I worked for thinks they might have made some important finds. They told me they would let me know once they got back to their labs in the United States and tested the plants I led them to.”

“That is good. There is much in the jungle that can be beneficial to man.” The priest paused. “There are also dangerous things out there.”

Angelique tapped her backpack. “I take care of myself, Father.”

“I know you do.” The priest shifted uncomfortably on the hard wood. “And El Diablo?”

Angelique stiffened. “I do not go that far up the river, beyond the Devil’s Fork. No one with any sense does.”

“Times change,” the priest said.

The two words hung in the air. The exterior of the church went dark as a cloud passed in front of the sun. “Why do you ask me of El Diablo?”

The priest shifted on the hard wood. “Do you think he is just legend?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Instead of answering, Angelique turned toward him and asked her own question. “Since you ask of him, do
you
think he is just legend, Father? You have been in the jungle for many more years than me.”

The old man sighed once more. “I have been
in
the jungle, but I am not
of
the jungle like you. El Diablo is legend. But I fear he is also real.”

“Why?”

The old man laughed. “You ask me my own questions. You always did that in school. You were very challenging to teach. You always wanted to know more.” The smile faded quickly as he realized she was patiently waiting for the answer.

“Because of your past.”

Angelique stiffened. “What of my past?”

“When the Kaiyapo found you, wandering in the jungle near the river, they believed you were the fulfillment of a legend, one that has to do with El Diablo.”

“What legend? Why did the never tell me of this?”

“Ah!” The priest waved a hand, as if trying to brush away a disturbing spirit. “There are so many legends and rumors here, you know that.”

“Tell me, please.”

“They say you came down the river. That somehow you passed through the Devil’s Gorge. That there is a legend of a young child who would do that. Who would be both the beginning and the end of time?”

“That makes no sense,” Angelique said.

“That is why it is a good legend. But the legend says the child comes from El Diablo. It is only a legend without any detail. I should not have said anything. I am an old man and my mouth lets loose things it should not. That is why none of the tribe have spoken of it to you. It is a foolish tale.”

“So I am from the devil?” Angelique asked.

“No,” the priest was adamant. “You are the furthest person from the devil I have ever known. It is a silly legend. Although, it was strange, the way you were lost in the jungle and we were never able to find out who your parents were or how you got abandoned there. So, of course, legend and myth will weave its way in.”

“You are in an odd mood this afternoon, my old friend,” Angelique said.

“Why do you never come inside, Angelique?” the priest asked, once more putting off the difficult task he had been given.

She glanced at him quizzically. “I am not worthy, Father.”

“You are a child of God and a good person. You are most welcome in the church.”

Angelique reached up and traced the tattoos that ran from her forehead down past her eyes along her cheeks and disappeared inside the collar of her shirt. “I am not worthy to pass the entranceway. Before I was brought to the church, I lived as a heathen. I bear the marks of the Kaiyapo.”

“All are worthy.”

“Not those who don’t know from whom they are born.”

“You are worthy, Angelique.”

“I would be struck down if—”

The priest cut her off. “You are a smart woman, Angelique. You know better. I taught you better.”

“I know the jungle,” she said. “I know my boundaries. And I know what I owe the Church.”

The priest sighed even more deeply, and then reached into his cassock and retrieved a red envelope. “It is time for you to be of service.”

“The Wrath.” Angelique bowed her head. “God’s will be done.”

The old priest put his hand gently on the top of her head. “God’s will be done, my child.” A tear crept down his leathery skin and landed on her closely cropped hair. Looking up he noted that the stained glass image of the Virgin Mother was still in shadow. “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

Joint Defense Space Research Facility, Pine Gap, Australia

The Colonel stared at the data. He’d run the projection program over one hundred times. The results were always the same. This thing, whatever it was, was going to smash into Earth in forty-nine hours. There was no way around the science. The laws of physics were supreme and immutable. He’d lived by them his entire life. Not only as a scientist but also as a pilot. The rule that had been indoctrinated into him during his flight training was to always trust his instruments. No matter what his mind or body said, one had to always trust the machines.

He knew they had locked down the Hubble FOT in the States. The scientists would never be able to spread the word. Compartmentalization was the key to security. The Colonel laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the facility and coming back to him. He knew he was a loose end. One that had been forgotten in the importance and gravity of the information. He doubted they’d send someone for him, and they’d even trust his Top Secret Clearance.

The Colonel took a key out of his pocket and went over to a cabinet. He unlocked it and removed a Berretta nine-millimeter pistol. He checked the magazine. Fully loaded. Taking the gun, he left the control center and stepped into the blistering summer heat.

He walked across the desert floor to the base of the closest tower. He climbed the ladder up to the dish and opened the maintenance grate. The colonel walked gingerly across the metal dish to a place right next to the center.

He looked out across the Australian Outback. The view was spectacular. And it was all going to be gone in less than seven days.

The colonel pulled back the slide on the pistol, chambering a round. He placed the muzzle against his temple.

He pulled the trigger.

The Final Day Terminal Impact= in 3 Hours

From the 5
^th
Gospel: Judas: 2:1 And then the Voice was no longer heard by most. Our Second Consciousness crowded it out. The few who could still hear became the prophets and oracles. And their Voices told us: You Do This.

The Mato Grasso Region of the Amazon

“Every story starts at the beginning,” Judas said. “Or it should. I know how your team was pulled together from around the world.” He nodded at the astonished looks on his visitor’s faces. “I may be in the middle of the jungle, but I keep my finger on the pulse of things. That’s why I have been around for so long. Others have come looking for me before.”

“What is it?” Angelique asked, pointing up at the blazing object that seemed to be coming closer even as they looked at it. She was seated between Gates and DiSalvo on the other side of the table. Six natives stood behind them, arrows notched, but bows no longer drawn.

Judas wagged a finger like she was a wayward child. “That, I cannot tell you. At least not yet.”

“Why not?” Gates demanded.

DiSalvo put his left arm on top of the table and Judas turned the finger toward him in warning. “I know you have other weapons, priest. Trust me, you want to hear what I have to say before you use them.”

“Trust you!” DiSalvo was incredulous although he did remove his arm from the table. “You are the Great Betrayer. You cannot be trusted.”

“Jesus trusted me,” Judas said.

Once more Angelique put a hand on DiSalvo, this time on his shoulder. “At least let us hear what he has to say, Father. He could have killed us when we stumbled out of the jungle. There must be a reason for this.” She turned to Judas. “Why can’t you tell us what it is?”

“I can’t tell you what it is,” Judas said, “because doing so would remove your free will. Jesus was very big on free will, you know. It’s an interesting paradox. You have some information but not all. So you must make a decision based not only on what you know, which is incomplete, but what you believe. But isn’t what you believe based on what you know?” Judas didn’t wait for an answer.

“After all, isn’t that the reason behind the Great Commission?” Judas asked, with a pointed glance at DiSalvo. “If someone who has never heard the word of God, like these people,” he added, indicating the natives who were gathered around“—hear it, then they have the choice whether to believe or not, correct?”

Angelique nodded. “Yes. It’s our mission to make sure everyone has the chance to be saved before the Rapture.”

“Ah!” Judas held up a finger. “Let’s be honest, here. When you say ‘our,’ you mean the Brotherhood. But the three of you, your specific task was to come here and kill me, which, pardon my skewed point of view, seems rather un-Christian.”

“You are an obstacle to the Rapture,” DiSalvo said.

“In what way?” Judas asked. He looked around. “What can I possibly do from my jungle home that will affect the will of your God?”

“You—” DiSalvo began, but Judas stopped him.

“We must begin at the beginning,” he said. He stared at the three of them. “Your faith is in God, but what you know of God is through the Bible, is it not?”

Angelique nodded. Gates did nothing.

“The Bible is the word of God,” DiSalvo said.

“Do you believe the Bible is the
actual
word of God? Verbatim?”

“It is.” DiSalvo was firm in his answer.

“Unfortunately, it is not,” Judas said. “So let us start there. With some facts. Because we must exchange more information before we make our decisions.”

Gates spoke up. “What decision do you have to make?”

“You shall see,” Judas said. He stared hard at Gates. “And you haven’t told me what decision it is
you
have to make, Captain. Which master you will serve?.”

“What do you mean by that?” DiSalvo demanded.

Instead of replying to the question, Judas pointed at the battered metal case on the bench next to the man, attached to his right wrist by a metal handcuff. “And what decision do you have to make, priest?”