Six Months Later, Lake McConaughy, Nebraska
I hear Austin walk to the base of the tree and begin climbing. I know it’s him without opening my eyes. For someone with such a confident gait when he walks, his climbing is cautious. He’s not quite scared, but not quite comfortable, either. He’s also probably very tired.
“I assume you won,” I say.
“Yes, but it was much closer than we thought it would be. Uncle Cameron and Aunt Cindi were on my tail until the last big climb.”
For the first time ever, our generation has been allowed to participate in the competition between the old houses of Four. This year, each house was allowed to choose an event; so we stacked the deck a bit by choosing a bicycle race, which Austin was sure to win.
“Who came in second?” I ask.
“Uncle Cameron beat Aunt Cindi by about a bike length. That means we face him and Gethsemane House in the final event.”
Reaching the finals wasn’t easy. The older generation didn’t make it easy on our team, which is made up of me, Austin, Zera, and all of my younger cousins. When word got out that I could shoot down a drone with evasion software, no house was willing to pick an event involving stun guns. We came in third in Uncle Cameron’s newly-designed obstacle course, but only because Cousin Alice has an incredible ability to balance on a moving log. Mount Carmel House added something that was foreign to everyone: archery. Austin and I already have plans to create a more flexible composite for making our own bows. The only event remaining is the traditional finale: combat with fighting sticks.
“It still makes no sense to me,” Austin says. “How did you learn fight moves by sitting up here and watching, as everyone else trained?”
“Moves? Moves are just single pieces in a puzzle. I was up here to get perspective on the entire puzzle at once. The moves are nothing more than pushing the pieces into place.”
Austin is quiet for a minute.
“You know, Jocie … I think I always knew that I wasn’t the special one. Growing up, everyone gave me all the attention - but somehow I knew it was you.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I reply. “I didn’t build a time machine or figure out how to align the crystals to boost the power. If anything, we were always meant to be a special team: Paulsons to the end.”
“Speaking of the end, it looks like everyone is gathering for the final round,” Austin says. “You don’t get to watch from up here this time. Are you sure you want to stick to the plan we discussed? It’s never been done before.”
“That’s why it’ll work.”
When we arrive at the combat area, Uncle Cameron turns to Mom and Dad.
“I bet you two wish you were participating this year, instead of letting Bethany House’s winning streak die. I taught combat to every one of these kids, except for Jocie. Gethsemane House will soon be back on top.”
“I do believe there’s a final event to determine which house is on top this year,” Dad says.
Uncle Cameron turns to me, as Austin, Zera, and the rest of our generation stand up behind me, while the members of Gethsemane stand behind him.
“Gethsemane is ready to take on … hey, what is the name of your house, anyway? Since you’re all kids, maybe we should call you the ‘Play House’? Or maybe the ‘Tree House’?”
“We haven’t agreed upon a house name,” I say.
“Then I guess we’ll call you the Play House. So, Play House, I guess it’s time to find out just how much of our knowledge has flowed down to your generation.”
“That’s it!” I say. “We select the name Jordan House. Jordan means to ‘flow down.’”
There are smiles of approval all around.
“Jordan House,” I say to the team. “… as we discussed.”
The younger generation standing behind me take seats, leaving me alone in the center of the ring. Just the slightest smile forms on Dad’s lips, but his eyes dance as he sees the puzzle unfolding in his mind.
“I think you must not have read the rules, Jocie,” Uncle Cameron says. “This is a house-on- house competition. We can bring all eight of our members against you.
Now the slightest smile forms on my lips, as I push the buttons and extend my composite fighting stick to full length.
“I read the rules. Go ahead, Gethsemane. Bring the house.”
******
Hours later, Jordan House is still celebrating its victory over the “grown-ups” when I notice Mom, Aunt Cindi, and Amelia sitting together under a tree with computer pads. It doesn’t take any special powers of observation to see the concerned looks on their faces.
“I’d hoped to let you enjoy today’s victory for a while longer, but I can see from the look on your face that we’ve been caught,” Mom says. “You may as well hear the news firsthand from the experts.”
“It’s good to see you, Jocie,” Amelia says.
“You said that like we’re meeting at a funeral.”
“I guess I did - and I suppose we are in a way. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. The antivenin is losing its effectiveness. The dose we have to give people to protect them from the toxin is jumping at a rate of one percent per month. It won’t be long before the effective dose is too large for a human body to process. It’s like getting bitten by a snake every day - eventually it’s just too much.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Just a few months ago everyone said it was a miracle.
“It was. It saved several million lives of the people with the highest exposure after the Five-X toxin drop.”
“But we cooked the Five-X toxin,” I say. “There shouldn’t be that much in the atmosphere and whatever did survive should be degrading.”
“We don’t understand it,” Aunt Cindi says. “The only thing that’s clear is that the antivenin isn’t a long term solution anymore.”
I look at the sky.
In the months since I drank toxin to create antivenin, billions of people were “unvaccinated” to remove the genetic junk that resulted from Mark of the Beast vaccine. Nobody is walking around with open wounds, or bruises anymore because the antivenin promised to protect them until the last of the toxin in the atmosphere had degraded. There are no more “washed” or “marked.”
“We can’t go back,” I say.
“I’m sorry, Jocie,” Mom says. “There’s no choice. Everyone who took Henry’s vaccine will have to take it again if they want to live. I’m afraid the Mark of the Beast is here to stay.”