Rise of the Beast (23 page)

“We need that gateway opened,” announced another. “Through it millions of our fellows, disembodied spirits, whose physical forms were utterly destroyed during the War in Heaven, could enter this world. They could be of great assistance to us if only the way could be made clear.”

“I know that,” said the first, who seemed a bit agitated by the comment. “Our agents went to great lengths to persuade the humans to drill a well in that exact spot. Now this foreman stands in our way, a foreman schooled and encouraged
by that loathsome Serena Davis and her meddling husband, Chris.”

“That human wench,” cursed Lusan. “Her presence continues to be an affront to me. Would that she had remained within the Great Sea of Fire as I had intended. Yes, that is where she truly belongs, cradled within the searing arms of the fiery, black oil. Why she has found so much favor within the Father’s heart I shall never know.”

The group became silent. All of them knew that it was unwise to interrupt the master when he was in such a mood as this.

Lusan turned to the pale demon before him. “Remind me, Runar, why is this particular spot in the Middle East so important? Surely there must be other routes into this world.”

“There are,” replied Runar, “but they are too deep. Before the city of Sheol was destroyed by the humans and their allies, your minions could enter the world wherever they chose. Through the gates of that great portal we gained free access to this world, at least in spirit form. But times have changed. Now we must find weak spots, holes in the ethereal maze that were produced by the cataclysmic destruction of that once great city. Most lie deep within the Earth and are inaccessible, but not this one. This one lies but two miles down. Even a portion of the Great Sea of Fire has leaked through the cracks into this world. We have secured much of this precious substance. Securing this well is the key, and we do it by eliminating this foreman, Will Reinhart.”

“But the Father has put a wall of protection round about him,” objected Lusan. “He has forbid us to touch him.”

“Technically,” replied Runar. “But what I have planned is an act of random violence not directed specifically at him. He will become just one of many victims of a suicide bombing. We have studied his habits. It shall be easy enough to orchestrate. Kurdistan is becoming the site of ever-increasing violence. It sweeps across their borders from Iraq in an attempt to draw them into the sea of chaos that surrounds them. We have been influencing Muslims throughout northern Africa and the Middle East. We have been enticing them into committing acts of violence—jihad that will ensure them a place amidst the pleasures of heaven. Soon there will be another one. Will Reinhart will be, as these humans say, in the wrong place at the wrong time. After that, our brethren will be free to stream into this world.”

Lusan smiled, though slightly. “Then I leave this project in your hands.
Don’t fail me, Runar.”

Runar bowed, as was the custom, leaving little doubt in the master’s mind that all was under control. Soon they would be back on schedule.

Julio Mendoza shook his head sadly as he cleaned up the last of the broken glass from his bedroom floor. Someone had made a real mess of the apartment, and he didn’t have to think too hard to figure out who that someone was.

Detective Strom had been here this morning, surveying the damage. Julio had been so tempted to tell him all that he knew. It had really started to eat at him, especially since Grandma Claire’s death last week. How he missed her. But no, he couldn’t tell Detective Strom. It would raise too many questions about what he had been doing these past months. Indeed, it might bring his very sanity into question. He couldn’t afford that.

Nor could he tell his mother. She had seen the difference in him these past weeks, had even commented on it. She liked the new Julio. She’d said something about life getting better and better. That was good. Still, he couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t risk putting her in jeopardy, and that is exactly what would happen.

Grandma Claire had said something about a shield of protection about him. She said that he was in the hollow of God’s hand. Still, she hadn’t said anything about his mother being protected.

Grandma Claire had said that he should grow strong in the Lord. She called the Bible his instruction book and his spiritual bill of rights all rolled up into one. She’d gotten him into a good church. But even his pastor didn’t realize the full magnitude of what he’d been through. Only Karina understood that. They stayed close on the assumption that there was strength in numbers. They supported each other. After all, when two or more gathered together, Jesus was in their midst.

Claire had said that when the time came they would know what to do. It seemed to Julio that they should be doing something other than hiding, but what? He only prayed that she was right.

Serena and Chris had pulled their old RV into a park just outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, about half an hour ago. The summer heat had really started to set in, and their air conditioning unit was struggling with it. Serena wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she sat down at the computer in their RV. Chris was still outside monkeying around with the water hookup. This place, with its heat and humidity, was a far cry from her beloved Oregon. She really missed home when they were on the road.

She opened her email to discover a message from their good friend Will Reinhart. It was unusually long, and its contents were nothing short of revolutionary. As she read on, a chill ran up her spine. He’d been doing some snooping around regarding the hellish oil that they had drawn up out of the well, and he had hit pay dirt. The verdict was in, and it was indeed disturbing. She thought back to her time in that terrible sea of agony. Back then, she had not been in a state of mind to evaluate the nature of this unnatural oil analytically. There were times that her confused mind had become convinced that it was a living thing. She had once compared it to a spoiled child playing with the many humans within its grasp, unwilling to release so many as even one of them. Maybe she hadn’t been so crazy, after all.

“Alive?” she gasped. “The oil is alive?”

“What oil is alive?” asked Chris, closing the door behind him and sitting at Serena’s side.

“The oil from the well in Kurdistan,” replied Serena. “This is an email from Will. Their lab has finally analyzed it, figured out exactly how it works. When it was cool, it was inert, just like any other sample of oil. It was in a sort of hibernation. But when it gets hot, like it was in the Great Sea of Fire, it begins to grow, multiply. Chris, it feeds on living flesh or any organic matter it comes in contact with. That’s what it was doing to all of the souls in the sea in Hell. It was feeding upon us. The only reason that we weren’t totally consumed by it was our ability to regenerate. And as it feeds, it multiplies, grows. When I was in Hell, I remember Abaddon telling me that the Great Sea of Fire was rising with the passage of every year. Now I understand why. It was growing larger as it fed upon all of those poor souls cast adrift within it.”

Chris looked at his wife incredulously.

“Well, read it yourself, Chris. It’s all there.”

And Chris did. He could hardly believe it, yet it all made sense. “It says here
that when living flesh is added to it, the oil heats up. Not dead flesh, like meat, but living flesh. I wonder what kind of experiments they were doing with that stuff.”

“Will didn’t say,” replied Serena. “It’s too late in Kurdistan to call him tonight. I’ll have to call him first thing in the morning. He did say that he had a friend in research who leaked this information to him. The company is keeping all of this from the public for the moment. They’re going to release this information eventually, at a press conference, but not just yet. You see, to them, it is just a new form of life. They’re calling it a thermophile, a simple form of life that thrives on the natural heat two miles down. They’re hoping that National Geographic or the Discovery Channel might do a piece on this new find, give them some positive PR.”

Chris read on for another minute before looking up from the screen. “In Hell this oil, or whatever you want to call it, fed upon the life force of the souls within it. At least that’s the way Will has it figured.”

“And now that horrible stuff is right here on Earth,” deduced Serena. “If it gets loose, what kind of damage could it do?”

“But life on Earth doesn’t regenerate,” deduced Chris. “It dies.”

“Then this stuff has the potential to kill millions, even billions,” said Serena.

Chris pondered the situation for a moment. “That European corporation that bought all of this hellish oil from Will’s company, oh, what was it called again?”

“Roan Chemical,” said Serena. “I did a Web search on them a few months ago, but it wasn’t particularly helpful. There was no mention of any research on a strange new oil. That’s no big surprise. Will has been looking into it too. He hasn’t had any luck, either.”

Chris nodded. “You think this corporation has some connection to Satan?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Serena.

“What is he up to?” pondered Chris. “He’s been here on Earth for what, nine months, maybe ten? We have a lead here, a clue there, but it just isn’t adding up.”

“He’s probably involved in all kinds of mischief,” replied Serena. “That might
be why the clues lead in so many directions. He must have operatives all over the world. His plan is so vast that the clues seem unrelated, small pieces in a huge puzzle.”

“I’m starting to wonder if we have any chance at all of stopping him,” said Chris. “I mean, what can the two of us do?”

“But we have to try,” replied Serena, determination in her voice. “No matter what the odds, we have to try.” There was a pause; then Serena smiled. “That wasn’t always your attitude. When I was in Hell and you were in Heaven, you were told time after time that you couldn’t rescue me, that there was no hope. But you wouldn’t listen to them. You just kept struggling with the problem. Now, here we are, together, with a second chance. You’re going to figure this one out too. We’re going to figure it out together.”

It was later that evening, after dinner, that Chris made a discovery. He was browsing news items on the Internet when he came upon an article that caught his attention. It wasn’t the article so much as the photograph that went with it, the face of a man. He studied it for over a minute. “I’ve seen you before,” he muttered. “Yeah, but in a way different context.”

Serena looked up from the book she had been engrossed in for the past hour. “Chris, what are you going on about?”

“Come and see for yourself,” he said. “But be ready for a shock.”

Serena came to the screen and looked at the face of the middle-aged man pictured in it. A sudden expression of horror swept across her face. “It’s him,” she gasped. “It’s Satan. Who does it say this guy is?”

“He calls himself Lusan,” said Chris.

“Yes,” confirmed Serena. “He’s that cult leader who has been making such a stir up in New York. People say he has an incredible healing ministry. I’ve had some suspicions about him. This is the first time I’ve seen a photograph of him.”

“He has done his best to avoid being photographed up close,” said Chris. “Maybe we now know why.”

Serena nodded. She turned away from the screen. She could bear looking at that face no longer. “We’ve got you,” she said.

Chris scanned the article one more time. “I’ve been doing a little research on
this guy during the past hour or so. That’s how I stumbled on this photograph. It’s strange, Lusan’s organization just sort of popped up about nine months ago. It says here that he lived in Morocco before founding this church. He’d become wealthy by brokering some sort of gold mine deal in the depths of the Sahara last year. It was then that the spirit of God fell upon him, right out there in the desert, and told him to establish this church. Now he’s going on sort of an evangelical tour of the nation, being God’s messenger to the world. He’s going to be in Atlanta three days from now. Maybe we should drop in. Satan has never been very good at controlling his emotions. Maybe we should go to the stage when he has his healing service. Seeing you there might cause him to blow a gasket.”