The Mark: The Beast Rules The World (26 page)

“Of course. I just do it through the computer and no one questions it. They see it’s approved by someone higher than their level, and they don’t rock the boat. Where do you want to go?”

“There are prisons all over the States,” she said. “But I’m never actually going to get to one, right?”

“Right. We get you assigned, get you on a plane, but then lose you somehow. You run off and we can’t find you. But then you’re on your own. You need to get to the safe house in Chicago.” “Would they have me?”

“Ming! Leah has told everyone about you. They can’t wait to welcome you. They knew you and your brother would eventually have to wind up there. We can use you both. Now where shall I assign you in the States? Somewhere close enough to Chicago so you can get to the safe house but not so suspiciously close that people start putting two and two together.” ,/

“I don’t know the States,” she said. “There is a huge facility in Baltimore that always needs personnel.”

“That’s a long way from Chicago. Wait! Can you get to Greece?”

“When?”

“As soon as possible, even tonight.”

“I guess that’s up to you. Make my transfer highest priority, and if you want GC here to get me to Greece, they’ll have to do it. But David, Greece is a hot spot right now, crawling with GC and making an example of political prisoners. I don’t want to work or hide there.”

David told her how she would get to the States from Greece, and it would appear GC was escorting her.

“There is a God,” she said. “Where do I meet these men?”

“Get to the airport at Kozani. They’ll find you.”

“Can you get Chang there too? Please, David, do it! Get him out of my parents’ quarters, get him assigned somewhere, and have one of your pilots get him to Greece. We can go to the safe house together.”

“Ming, please. It has to make sense. I pull a stunt like that, your parents lose track of Chang, and it all comes back to me-not to mention you! You both are sent somewhere and then wind up lost? Think, Ming. I know you’re desperate and that you care, but let me work on the logistics. The last thing I want is for the GC spotlight

to turn on us.”

“I know, David. I understand. I’m thinking with my

heart.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “Until we quit thinking at all and make things worse.”

“We in trouble?” a Greece-based GC Peacekeeping chief at the detention center asked Buck when he saw he was accompanied by a deputy commander. “We do everything by the book.”

“This looks like a madhouse, frankly,” Buck said, surveying the complex of five rather plain, industrial buildings that had probably once been factories. The windows were covered with bars, and the perimeter was a tangle of fence and razor wire. But the place was crowded with GC in lines, peering at printouts in the night, using flashlights to see where various prisoners were located.

“We do all we can with what we have to work with,” the chief said, nervously eyeing Albie.

Buck continued to do the talking. “How many prisoners at this facility?”

“About nine hundred.”

“You’ve got that many GC here.”

“Well, not quite, sir.”

“What are they all doing? Are they assigned?”

“Most are running the mark center in the middle building.”

“What is in the other buildings?”

“Teenagers through early twenties in the first building, males in the west wing, females in the east.”

“Individual cells?”

“Hardly. Prisoners are incarcerated in large, common areas that used to be production lines.”

“And in the other buildings?”

“Women in the next. None in the center. Men in the last two.”

“What are the majority of these people charged with?”

“Mostly felonies, some petty theft, larceny.”

“Any violent criminals?”

The chief nodded back over his shoulder. “Murderers, armed robbers, and the like, right there.”

“Political prisoners?”

“Mostly in the second building, but religious dissidents, at least the men, are right here too.” He motioned to the last building again.

“You’ve got dissidents in with violent criminals?” Buck said, leaning forward as if to get a better look at the man’s nameplate.

“Where they’re placed is not my call, sir. I’m coordinating the loyalty mark application. And I need to be in that center building in about five minutes. You want to help- I’ve got a crew of six moving from building to building, starting with the west, doing preliminary sorting.”

“Meaning?”

“Determining whether any plan to refuse the mark.”

“And if so?”

“They are to identify themselves immediately. We’re not going to waste time letting people wait until they’re in line to decide whether they want to live or die.”

“What if some change their minds in line?”

“Decide at the last minute they don’t want the mark after all? I don’t foresee that!”

“But what if they do?”

“We deal with that quickly. But for the most part, we want to know in advance so we don’t hold things up. Now, gentlemen, I have orders. Will you help with the culling or not?”

“Will this be going on simultaneously in all the buildings?” Buck asked, not wanting to miss the pastor or

Mrs. Miklos.

“No. We’re starting in the west building. Prisoners will be escorted to the center building for processing, then back before those in the next building go. And so forth.” “We’ll help,” Buck said.

The chief shouted, “Athenas!” and a stocky, middle-aged Peacekeeper with a one-inch, black crew cut stepped up, three men and two women in uniform behind him. “Ready, Alex?”

“Ready, sir,” Alex said, with a high-pitched voice that didn’t match his physique.

“Take Jensen and Elbaz here with you.” “I have sufficient staff, sir.” The chief lowered his head and stared at Athenas. “They’re here from
USNA
, and if you didn’t notice, A. A., Mr. Elbaz is a dep-u-ty com-man-der?” “Yes, sir. Would Mr. Elbaz care to lead?” Albie stuck out his lower lip and shook his head.

It was two in the afternoon in Chicago, and the remaining Trib Force members crowded around the television. The local GC news reported that mark applications had begun at local jails and prisons.

Zeke sat rocking before the TV, his hands over his mouth. Rayford asked if Chaim’s Jerusalem disguise was ready. Zeke kept his eyes on the screen and took his hands from his mouth only long enough to say, “All but the robe. Done by tonight.”

Tsion had come up with the idea of letting Zeke change Chaim’s appearance exactly as he had been planning, but also outfitting him in sandals and a thick, brown, hooded robe that extended far enough in front of his face to hide his features. The whole garment would go over his head and the hem would settle an inch off the ground, the waist cinched with a braided rope. Everyone agreed it sounded humble and nondescript, and yet ominous enough once Chaim was seen by crowds as in charge and with something to say.

Chaim was slowly accepting the idea, provided he could playact from the shadows of his garb. “I still say Tsion ought to go.”

“Let me promise you, my friend,” Tsion said. “Allow God to use you mightily to get his people to safety, and I will come and address them in person sometime.”

The TV anchorman announced that while the area GC had not expected to need the loyalty enforcement facilitators, one prisoner had reportedly refused to take the mark and had been executed. “This occurred at what was formerly known as the DuPage County Jail, and execution of the dissident was carried out less than ninety minutes ago. The rebel, serving an indeterminate sentence for black market trafficking of fuel oil, has been identified as fifty-four-year-old Gustav Zuckermandel, formerly of Des Plaines.”

Zeke buried his face in his hands and toppled onto his side, where he lay crying quietly. One by one the rest of the Force approached to merely lay a hand on him and cry with him. Tsion, Chaim, Rayford, Leah, and Chloe surrounded him and Tsion prayed.

“Our Father, once again we face the wrenching loss of a loved one. Shower our young brother with hope eternal and remind us all that we will one day see again this brave martyr.”

When Tsion finished, Zeke drew a sleeve across his wet face, moved to his hands and knees, and then awkwardly rose.

“You all right, son?” Rayford asked. “Got work to do is all,” Zeke said, averting his eyes. And he shuffled back toward his room.

Buck had a bad taste in his mouth. He had been in these situations before, had seen enough depravity and mayhem to last several lifetimes. But he wished he and Albie had brought high-powered automatic weapons so they could at least attempt a rescue. How, in his flesh, he wanted to spray deadly projectiles into the swarming GC. How he would love to have stormed the detention barracks, looking for people with the mark of Christ and ferrying them to safety.

But here was an impossible situation. Prophecy was once again coming to life before his eyes, and he would not be able to turn away. At the west building, the eight members of the culling team were checked in past the outer fence, and then again at the main entrance.

Buck was assaulted by the stench as soon as they had cleared the main corridor. Inside a huge cage milled more than a hundred male teenagers, some looking tough, others petrified. The cage was surrounded with four to five guards on a side, weapons in hand, smoking, reading magazines, and looking bored.

The teenagers jumped and cheered and applauded when the team entered. “Freedom!” one shouted while the rest laughed. “They’ve come to free us!” And others jeered and mocked.

Athenas stepped away from the others and put up both hands for quiet. Buck sidled to a guard, who dropped his magazine and straightened up. “Sir?” he said.

“What’s the smell, soldier?”

“The cans, sir. In the corners, see?”

Buck looked to the four corners of the cage where 55-gallon drums stood. Each had a makeshift wooden set of steps next to it and was covered by an ill-fitting toilet seat. “This building has no facilities?”

“Only for us,” the guard said. “Just down that hall.”

Buck shook his head. “They can’t be led there periodically?”

“Not enough of us to risk that.”

Alex Athenas had finally commanded the prisoners’ attention. “You are privileged to be among the first to display your loyalty and devotion to His Excellency, the risen potentate of the Global Community, Nicolae Carpathia!”

To Buck’s amazement, this was met with enthusiastic cheering and applause that went on for almost a minute. Some teens broke into chants and songs, lauding Carpathia.

Athenas finally quieted them again. “In a few moments you will be led to the central building, where you will tell the staff whether you want your loyalty mark on your forehead or your right hand. The area you choose will then be disinfected with an alcohol solution. When it is your turn, you will enter a cubicle, where you will sit and be injected with a biochip, while simultaneously tattooed with the prefix 216, which identifies you as a citizen of the United Carpathian States. The application takes just seconds. The disinfectant also contains a local anesthetic, and you should experience no discomfort.

“Any acts of disorderly conduct will be met with immediate justice. For you illiterates, that means you will be dead before you hit the floor.”

This was met with more hooting and hollering, but Buck found himself staring at a boy in the middle of the crowd. He had black, curly hair, was thin and pasty, and wore tilting glasses that appeared to have one lens missing. The boy looked barely old enough to be in this crowd, but what caught Buck’s eye was the shadow on his forehead. Or was it a smudge? Or was it the seal of God?

“Excuse me, officer!” Buck said, striding past Athenas and peering into the cage. The hooting stopped and the prisoners stared. “You, there! Yes, you! Step forward!”

The young man made his way through the crowd to the front of the cage, where he stood quaking. “Someone open this door!” Buck barked. No one moved. He ~\^ whirled to look at the guard he had spoken to, who shuffled nervously and looked at Athenas.

“The rest of you back off,” Athenas said, and he nodded to the guard, who unlocked the cage.

Buck marched in and grabbed the boy by the arm, his ratty, gray sweater bunching under Buck’s fingers. He dragged him out of the cage, past Athenas and the other guards, scolding him the whole way. “You mock Global Community Peacekeepers, young man? You’ll learn respect.”

“No, sir, please-I, I-”

“Shut up and keep moving!”

Buck dragged him past the guards at the entrance, who called after him, “Wait! Who is that! We have to process him out!”

“Later! “Buck said.

“Where are we going?” the boy pleaded with a Greek accent.

“Home,” Buck whispered.

“But my parents are here.”

“Give me their names,” Buck said, and he wrote them down. “I can’t guarantee they’ll get out. But you’re not going to die tonight.”

“You’re a believer?”

Buck nodded and shushed him.

They blew past the guards at the outer gate, and Buck marched him to the GC jeep across the road. Past the lights and into the shadows, few heads had even turned to watch. “Front passenger side,” Buck said. “Any other believers in the cage?”

The boy shook his head. “Never saw anyone.”

“Give me the name of one of the guys in the cage, just one.”

“Who?”

“Anyone. Just give me a name.”

“Ah, Paulo Ganter.”

“Got it. Now listen. You are to sit here, right here in this jeep, until I get back. What you must not do – are you listening? – is make sure that no one is watching. Because if you discover that, you might be tempted to make a run for it and not stop until you are somewhere safe. Then I would get back out here later and wonder whatever happened to my prisoner. Understand?”

“I think so. You don’t want me to do this?”

“Of course not. I don’t know what I’d do about an escapee. Do you?”

The boy managed a weak smile.

“You know what?” Buck said. “I don’t think anybody’s watching now.” Feeling like Anis, the mysterious border guard who had discovered Tsion under the seat of the bus so long ago, Buck put one hand on the boy’s shoulder and another on his head. And he said, “And now may the Lord bless you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and give you peace. Godspeed, son.”