The APOCs Virus (21 page)

Puck watched the Admiral demonstrate on the video display the modified flame
throwers.  His eyes were still glazed over and he was deep within himself as he showed the men the small egg
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shaped Russian fragment grenades.  He brought his thoughts to the surface and listened to Tex's flawless game plan.  Puck smiled.  His problems were finally over.

CHAPTER 20

THE  PROMO

The 103-inch flat screen Panasonic TV was the center of attraction in the Glorified Church of God’s inner sanctum.  The TV was on the only wall that wasn’t floor to ceiling glass in the Reverend Ira’s office.  The overhead fluorescents were casting spectral shadows on the faces of the elders.  Ira was sitting in Brother Kenneth's chair.  The older man stood rubbing his temples and looking out a window at the Church grounds.

"Brother Kenneth, why don't you find yourself a seat and join the rest of us here at the table," Ira said.

   Brother Kenneth addressed him without turning around.  "I prefer to stand.  I  know what this meeting is about and I whole
-
heartedly disagree with it."  

"Now Kenneth," his tone was irascibly patient as his iron fingers tapped on the tabletop.   "You don't even know what this is about.  Why don't you have a seat.  I have something here we all can enjoy."

Begrudgingly he sat at the end of the table, furthest away from Ira, yet closest to the screen.

"What I have here," Ira said standing and grandly gesturing to the TV, “is the 'Daniel Plan'.  Starting today at noon, this will run on the three major networks once an hour.  In addition, I have purchased the network-news avails on the three networks as well as all the major cable outlets."  He paused and surveyed the bewildered faces of the men in the room.  He smiled.

"At our last meeting Brother Christopher announced the booking of Norfolk Scope and the Hampton Coliseum for the next thirty days. He mentioned that there was only one night in the next thirty that's not ours.  And why not?  Because the rock band 'Devil's Reich' was scheduled to play at the Hampton Coliseum tomorrow night."

The group of elders knew this was not a meeting called to rehash old information.  They all speculated what Ira had up his sleeve. 

"Everyone in this room is aware of the difficulties this particular group of heathens has caused to our beloved congregation."

“More to the point, you in general,” Brother Kenneth said.

“Yes,” Ira looked at Brother Kenneth with disgust.  The old man was the only one who could get away with such a blasphemous statement. He regrouped and continued, “I received a telephone call this morning from a member of the band Devil's Reich, and I think this will clear up the controversy once and for all," his voice was velvet
-
edged and strong.

Ira sat deeply in the high back leather chair and smirked.  He would now have his revenge for the humiliation the bands had brought to him.  He aimed the remote control at the big screen and it sprung to life.

The  deep-throated rumble of announcer CharlieVan Dyke, for years the voice of Casey Kasem’s American Top 40, now voice for the Glorified Church of Christ, filled the conference room.  "As if the Apoc's weren't bad enough."

The video image was of a young boy who watched in a trance of horror and fascination as a rotting thing began to winnow out of a basement window. Its shoulders jammed, but its body was all bones and sinew, and in another few seconds, it pushed on through with a surge of frenetic strength.  The living corpse stood up in front of the youngster who now cowered in a fetal-like position on a sidewalk.  A few tendrils of long black hair hung from the shriveled skull, and hypnotic eyes beamed in a face that resembled a dried scab. The mouth stretched open, exposing sharp jagged-edged teeth that grew larger as it approached the boy and the camera.

"Now they have joined forces with rock and roll!" the overzealous announcer intoned.  

The video shot went to footage of the latest Devil's Reich concert video.  The cacophony of noise crescendoed into a shot of Ira.  He was sitting calmly behind his big mahogany desk. The cameras zoomed in.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Reverend Ira Swanson."  Picking up the telephone receiver and leaning forward to the camera, in a controlled voice he said: "This morning I received a very disturbing call.  But I must warn you the following is quite graphic."

A particularly bad picture of Steve Getz filled the screen.

"Now what can I do you for you, son?"  Ira's voice asked.

"I'm no son of yours, you bastard," Steve Getz screamed in his one-of-a-kind way.

"This is the good and just Reverend Ira Swanson speaking.  May I record this conversation to broadcast to my viewers?”

"I don't give a shit what you do."

"I cannot believe you are in league with Abaddon, leader of the Apocs,"  Reverend Ira's voice said.

"Yes, of course, who did you think it would be, Mary Poppins? Devil's Reich is being financed by the Apocs.  Abaddon the Antichrist, he helps me write songs"

"Being financed by whom?"  Ira said.

  "The Apocs!  You heard me, that Abaddon chap."

"I heard you, I just wanted to make sure all of America did also.  Don't you know you'll burn in hell along with innocent children who listen to your music?   But please, tell us why?"

"Why don't you get real man, all for greed."

"But you testified before congress saying that you and the band members did not condone violence.  That you all believed in the word of the Lord.  I know, I was there."

"All a political stunt."

"My sources have informed me you plan on causing great pain to the true believers that show up at your Hampton Concert?  Like what?"

"It'll be the death of concert goers.  The devil lives!"

"But Mr. Getz, we can't have that!  The good people will be there to stop you and your Apoc friends" Ira pleaded.

"You do and it'll be the death of you and your Church.  Do it, and suffer the consequences.  I don't give a shit!"

"Is there any way we can avoid this?"

"A million bucks, no make that two million!"

"We, the lambs of God will not be blackmailed!  Please tell me you and the Apocs will do no harm to the innocent tonight."

"Damn square, that's our only objective."

"And if we protest the concert tonight?  What will happen to us?"

"DIE, d-i-e, I said die you deaf bastard," the voice yelled on the screen.  "This is Steve Getz guitarist and manager for Devil's Reich.  I'm not fooling!"  He said in his cockney accent.

The screen filled with Reverend Ira’s sincere and troubled looking face.

"Friends, I invite you to join us, either at the concert or live on TV.   I will interview the leader of the Apocs.  He calls himself Abaddon, but we know who he really is—the Antichrist.  Please support the Lord."

The camera panned in on a tear rolling down Ira's cheek.

"Tomorrow night at 7:00 eastern, on televisions everywhere!" The voice of Charlie Van Dyke roared.

Ira didn't know what Brother Kenneth was about to say.  His wrinkled aged mouth was opening, the blood was pounding in his parched elderly face, and he could feel the shout beginning to draw power from the old man's lungs.  There was no sound coming out yet, though.  He raised that chastising ancient crooked finger in the air and pointed it in Ira's direction.  He was about to shout, but before he could, Ira jumped up from his chair and into his face.

"Listen old man," Ira said through gritted teeth, "we're tired of your old man ways, tired of your old man ideas.  You may have mollycoddled my father, but you won't make a milksop out of me."

Brother Kenneth sat in his chair dumfounded; his finger still raised accusingly in the air.  Ira grabbed it with his meaty hand and dug his nails into the soft, aged flesh.

"There's going to be an all-out media blitz of this promo starting in less than two hours."  He surveyed the others sitting around the table; they nervously avoided his gaze. Kenneth's finger still in grip, he turned to face the man.  "Unless somebody here has a problem with that."

The old man's eyes blazed with fire.

"Does anyone have a problem with that?"  Ira asked as he applied pressure.  Brother Kenneth's finger snapped like a dry twig.

"I know Brother Kenneth thinks it's a grand idea, don't you Ken?"

His face was locked in a grimace of pain and his lip was trembling, but he managed to give a tense nod of consent.

"Just as I thought, it's unanimous!  Project Daniel is full speed ahead!"

CHAPTER 21

LUNCH AND A GIRL 

"S'up homey?"  Ethan asked cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder. 

"Well for starters that guy we pulled out of the bay the other night
--
" 

"You mean that Apoc?"  Ethan asked.

"No, I mean that guy.  The son of a bitch changed back at the hospital early yesterday morning.  He's going to be all right.  Hell, he's been talking his ass off.  That's the real reason I've called." 

"Because the guys going to be all right or he's been talking?" 

"Hell no, because of what the poor bastard was talking about.  Abaddon has something planned for the Navy base, some
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kind of attack."  Ethan was trying Bill's patience.

"Do you think there's anything to it?" 

Ethan's eyes kept drifting back to three women on the beach.  Two of the women were talking and one was reading.  He lowered his voice as not to catch their attention. 

“My Uncle Tex sure does,” Bill said.

"How are things in Washington these days?"   

“He's not in Washington. I got a hold of him at Camp LeJeune in North Carolina.  Seems like he had already planned an offensive.  He was quite interested in the things I told him about this dude.  You see, the guy was a MP over at NOB and the Apocs pumped him for all he was worth.  From what he told me he even helped them plan an attack.  Told them where the weaknesses were. Uncle Tex wants to switch the strike to over there.  Wants to ambush them." 

Ethan placed the phone to his other ear and moved down the railing to get a better vantage point.  He thought the two females talking appeared to be seventeen or eighteen, but the one reading looked to be in her late 20's.  The metal framework of the canvas awning covering  the patio caused interference in the phone's reception. 

“Oh man, you’re not on your home phone are you?”  

“Yeah, why?" 

"Oh shit, never mind.  It's my fault, guy.  I should have never called.  I should have just come over. . ..  Say, can you meet me over to Greenies for a late lunch?  I don't feel so secure about the integrity of these phones." 

"Sounds to me like you're getting a little paranoid in your old age.  Besides, I've already eaten,” Ethan said.   He watched the woman reading the bookstand and stretch.  Her mid
-
back, light
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brown hair caught a wan shaft of sun and gleamed like dark gold.  Ethan wondered if it was as soft as it looked.  He pondered how sweet it must smell.  She turned
--
it was more a half glance over her shoulder
--
and the smoldering flame he saw in her eyes startled him.  He wondered if she was aware of the captivating picture she created when she smiled.  It was as intimate as a kiss to Ethan.  She turned and ran off toward the water.  Her long shapely legs, the smallness of her waist, the slight muscularity of her back and shoulders delighted him.  The tight curvaceous bounce of her buttocks made his stomach upset in a good way. 

"Ethan!  Are you there?  Hey, can you PLEASE meet me over there?  This is serious stuff!" 

"Yeah
--
um, I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted.  Will this take long?" 

"Hey are you all right?  Anything bothering you?" 

"You'd laugh if I told you." 

"Try me." 

"A woman . . . " Ethan said meekly. 

"What'd that bitch do to you now?" 

"No, not Sophia . . . just some random woman smiling at me on the beach.  Yeah, I'll meet you there in twenty minutes." 

"You're starting to sound like your old self again, Buddy." 

"Buddy's my cat . . . see ya in a few." 

Ethan hung up the phone, and lingered at the rail.  The woman was waist-deep in the water with the surf frothing up around her.   She had her back toward him but would occasionally look his way.  He couldn't tell if she was looking at him or the two teenaged girls. 

 It's just my imagination, he thought.   He grabbed his keys and went out the front door. 

Ethan threw his keys on the table where Bill had already ordered iced
teas. 

"So what's so secretive that you don't trust AT&T?”  Ethan asked. 

"A lot . . . hey I'm going to order a sandwich," Bill said as he threw the menu down on the table.  "Do you want anything?" 

"Naw I'm all set Poncho.”  Ethan watched Bill empty four sugar packs into his tea.  Ethan sipped his plain. 

"Between friends differences in taste or opinion are irritating in direct proportion to their triviality—W. H. Auden."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I saw the way you were eyeballing my ice tea."

"Forget the ice tea, get back to this phone thing."

"Well," Bill said as he opened a pack of crackers.  Between crunches and with a mouthful he continued, "I've got a pretty good idea that my phones are being tapped. Don't ask me why I think this.  I had the technicians with the department check it out with a time domain reflectomiter and bingo!  There was an irregularity. Some in-line capacitor that they couldn't explain.  They checked them again this morning, but hey, why take chances?"  

 Bill fingered his mustache as he ordered a Greenie
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burger, fries, slaw, and a bowl of she
-
crab soup. 

"So come on, what's so damn important that it couldn't wait ‘til tonight to tell me?  And stop picking at your mustache . . . that waitress thinks you have fleas."