Rise of the Beast (32 page)

“There is something I don’t understand, your eminence,” said Chris. “Why has this document remained hidden for so long?”

The Pope smiled broadly. “That is a good question. Why do you think it was so?”

Chris hesitated. “Was it because it was a prophecy about a woman being a deliverer?”

“To a certain degree,” said the Pontiff. “But that is not the only reason.”

“It almost sounds like it’s saying that there might be hope for the damned souls of Hell,” said Serena.

“It does sound like that, doesn’t it?” said the Pope. “In the Apocalypse of Peter, we find yet another passage that seems to imply that some of those who now suffer in Hell might find some sort of release, perhaps even redemption in the last days. If you read the entire manuscript, you can clearly see where it might be controversial.”

“But I thought that there were no complete copies of the Apocalypse of Peter in existence,” said Chris.

“Aren’t there?” posed the Pontiff.

“Before you leave, if you wish, I will see to it that you have the opportunity to read it from cover to cover,” said the pontiff. “We have translated it into English. I believe you would find it enlightening.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Chris.

“Therein we find the problem,” continued the Pontiff. “The Church has long proclaimed that there is no escape from Hell. Thus, we have the doctrine of Purgatory. It has given us a reason for hope for departed loved ones. The faith of the Church concerning purgatory is clearly expressed in the Decree of Union drawn up by the Council of Florence in 1031. Most Protestant denominations dismiss the concept of Purgatory as little more than wishful thinking, as did many of our church fathers. I once had strong reservations regarding the doctrine of Purgatory, but not anymore.” He turned to Serena. “From what I have heard, you might indeed be the author of Purgatory, as surely as Abaddon is its ruler. Perhaps this place they call Refuge is just that. It is a way back to the grace of God. It is a difficult road, but it is far preferable to the alternative.”

“Incredible,” said Chris. “It all makes sense.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily make it true,” cautioned the Pope. “Though we might like to believe it for the sake of so many lost souls, it might just be wishful thinking.”

“I want to believe it, too,” said Serena. “There are so many people I met in Hell, people that really deserve a second chance. Many of them are in Refuge now.”

“As I’m sure Father Giavani told you, I tire rather quickly these days,” continued the pontiff. “There is something else that I wanted you to be aware of. My head of security will give you a full briefing on it, but I wanted to touch upon it briefly before we part company. The Vatican is truly a separate country unto itself. As such, we have access to certain Interpol and FBI files. There are people keeping an eye on Lusan and his dealings. Did you know that he bought an island in the South Pacific?”

“Yes,” confirmed Serena, “though I don’t know why.”

“We aren’t sure either,” said the pontiff. “He claims that it will be a training center for his people, but that doesn’t ring true. You’ll be given a detailed report on his comings and goings since he arrived here on Earth. It might be helpful
to you. Also, my people here will keep you informed as to his movements as best we can. It is the least that we can do. It might allow you to keep one step ahead of him. Also, know that you can depend on my office for almost anything you need. Just contact Father Giavani. The two of you will be in my prayers constantly.”

Before leaving, Chris and Serena joined in prayer with the pontiff. They held hands in a circle. It was a rare and wonderful experience. He was so full of Christ’s love, so strong in the Spirit. He was the right man for this job, of that Serena was certain.

As they left the Vatican, they had a reason to be hopeful. They had a new friend in the struggle, a very powerful friend. Before this was all over, they might need his help.

Back at the hotel, Chris and Serena poured through the Vatican file on Lusan. There were more than a few surprises.

“That island that Lusan purchased is called Katafanga,” noted Chris. “He has poured close to a billion dollars into it. Some of the things that he purchased are just plain weird. It says here that he sank hundreds of thousands of dollars into purchasing heavy water.”

“Doesn’t sound like something you’d buy for a training center,” replied Serena, looking through the copy of yet another file from the Vatican archives.

“Sounds like something you’d need if you were doing scientific research,” noted Chris. He hesitated. “Or if you were building a nuclear bomb.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, either,” objected Serena. “Why would he want to build a nuclear bomb? Anyway, wouldn’t he need enriched Uranium or Plutonium too?”

“Yeah, he would,” noted Chris. “There are a lot of clues here, just no answers.”

Serena hesitated. “But this ancient prophecy about, maybe, me, has me more disturbed. There is a copy of it here in the stuff that the Father Giavani gave us. I think I’m going to be martyred. I think Lusan is going to kill me.”

Chris immediately moved from the desk where he’d been sitting to the bed where Serena sat. There was a tear in her eye. “You don’t know that. This thing is worded almost like a riddle. Some of this stuff could have lots of meanings.”

“I know,” insisted Serena. “I know just like Jesus knew in the Garden of Gethsemane. I know. And there’s more. I don’t think it will be quick.”

“You’re just upset,” replied Chris. “I don’t blame you. What you learned today was a powerful shock. I don’t think you’d be normal if you’d have reacted any other way.”

“But it’s all right,” said Serena, wiping away a tear. “I feel honored to do it. I’d do anything for the Father after the mercy He showed me. If it weren’t for God’s mercy, I’d still be in Hell, broiling in that awful black ocean. This is a small price to pay for God’s mercy.” Serena sat there deep in thought. Chris placed her hand in his. “Oh, Chris, I’d do anything if it would win the freedom of just a few repentant souls in Hell. There are people there who truly deserve a second chance.”

“Maybe you will,” replied Chris. “Didn’t the prophecy say something about lost souls coming to your aid?”

“If they only could,” corrected Serena. “I’m not so sure they can. I worry about my mother a lot. Yes, I know that she is there with Abaddon; still, the odds are so against them. In the end, at the White Throne Judgment, what will happen to her?”

“I’m afraid that only God knows that,” said Chris.

“What I wouldn’t do to save her from that place,” said Serena, putting the papers away and preparing to go to bed. “If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s her.”

C
HAPTER
13

Debbie Bellows gazed with terrified gray eyes, through veils of faint, drifting smoke at the sharp, menacing stalactites hanging from the rocky ceiling, stalactites that reflected the harsh, amber glow from the liquid metal that was even now beginning to spread across the floor of this hellish chamber like a pool of fluorescent mercury. The glow was becoming steadily brighter even as the room grew hotter. She knew that it was about to begin all over again.

She was held motionless, laying there shackled by her wrists and ankles in spread eagle fashion upon a horizontal metal platform that took the rough form of a human figure. The platform sat upon six glistening metal cylinders that currently held it about three feet above the rapidly flooding floor and 20 feet below the ceiling of this rectangular chamber. Around her, the walls were composed of irregular stone blocks encrusted with sulfur and soot and set in gray mortar. It was like being within some terrible dark chimney.

Despite its size, eight feet deep and nearly a dozen feet wide, it was very claustrophobic. There didn’t seem to be much oxygen in this horrible place, and the air was filled with sulfuric fumes. She often found herself gasping for breath, suffocating. Of course, she couldn’t die; she had already done that once. It was the way of the universe, one death per customer. Hell didn’t offer that option to its residents.

Satan and his minions relished the thought of tormenting those humans within their domain, so great was their hatred of mankind. It was like a narcotic,
a pleasure to which they were hopelessly addicted. Like most of the condemned females of Hell, she wore a short gray skirt and tattered skimpy top, which left her belly, arms, and legs exposed to whatever torments this fiendish chamber delivered. Like their wearers, these rags were impervious to the harsh environment, yet they offered her little protection from the elements.

Debbie turned her head as a trace of reddish vapor and a cloud of dust emanated from the far corner of the chamber, some five or six feet beyond her securely shackled right foot. What was it going to be like this time? How were they going to hurt her? She pulled upon her heavy restraints with all too predictable results; they were fastened securely to this terrible platform. Like everything else here, they seemed unaffected by the harsh environment, as strong as the day they first clamped tightly about her.

Her gaze turned to the wall to her left. There was the now sulfur-encrusted metal ladder built into the wall, a ladder that had been used just once—on the day she had arrived in this place. Above the ladder, which ran a total of ten feet up the wall, was the heavy riveted metal door that, in turn, led to the fantastically long subterranean corridor beyond, a corridor lined with many other doors not unlike this one. Did each of those doors lead to places like this? She couldn’t say. She had been in that corridor but once, on the day she had arrived here, and had not been afforded the grand tour.

From time to time, when the machinery within this place was silent, she heard muffled screams coming from beyond that door, probably from other nearby chambers. On those rare occasions, when she was not otherwise preoccupied by her own agony, she had cried out to them, but she had never gotten a response. Oh, to speak to someone else, anyone else, even at a distance, would have been such a blessing. The isolation of this place was but a part of the torment, a bigger part than one unfamiliar with that special pain of absolute solitude might imagine. This chamber was her entire world, her own little universe, and it would be for all times.

She focused once more on that door, now partially encrusted with sulfur and bits of cooled molten metal. Since the day of her arrival that door had remained closed. She remembered that day with incredible clarity. Two demons had dragged her into this terrible realm. She remembered their arching bat-like wings, their ancient gray faces, and their foul odor. After locking her in place upon this cruel table, one had seemed impatient to leave, but the other had not been like-minded. He had insisted upon staying. He had so wanted to outline for her the nature of her eternal agony, the forms it would take. He seemed to truly love his job.

How long ago was that? She had no frame of reference, and time had become a meaningless concept without it. Could it be measured in terms of the long cycles of torment followed by the all too brief reprieves as her body healed itself? Perhaps, but she had not attempted to make the calculation. Eternity was eternity. One could not, after all, count to infinity.