We get to the business of hacking my old lecture. Dr. “Talks-a-ton” has been enjoying a regular lecture schedule since I’ve been away, so we know exactly when to hit. She’s due to start a late morning lecture on Christianity very soon.
We bring up the live feed and there she is, looking and acting as smug as usual. For someone with so little understanding of the world, she sure has a lot of things in monotone to say about it. Martha smiles and shows me the attendance counter. Only five people are watching the class.
“I think we can get the count up a little, don’t you?” Martha asks.
We break in on the feed and Karen’s eyes go from surprise to anger to defeat.
“Karen, so nice to see you’re still holding down the fort for me,” I say. “I’m sure the five students watching won’t mind if I add a word or two.”
By the time I finish the two sentences, the number has doubled twice. Cindi told me there’s a communication chain in place that spreads the word whenever we hack in. Karen Talkington walks off the stage and yells at her tech people, and the tracer program starts up to locate the physical location of the relay computers.
“Where do I begin?” I say. “The world’s not filled with fools, so let me confirm what many of you already suspect: the recent power outages were indeed the result of more time travel. Two assassins were sent back to kill me, so I would never bring back the truth of Jesus Christ, and then I went back with a member of Four to stop them. The good news is there will be no more time travel. The better news is that two more people have witnessed the crucifixion and seen Christ risen. I want to introduce one of them to you now.”
I beckon to Michael to join me on camera.
“This is Michael, one of the two assassins sent back in time to kill me and erase the truth of the Travelers Initiative from history. I want you all to hear his testimony.”
The viewer count has jumped to over ten thousand and the tracer has locked in on the coordinates for the Fort Collins computer, which was moved since we last used it.
“Umm. Hi. My name is Michael. I umm, I was sent back in time by the Cult Hunter Corps to kill Cephas, umm, I mean Dr. Paulson.”
I nod to Cindi and Martha, and they start an additional feed filled with information about Michael, including a substantial criminal record. There’s no point in denying the truth of Michael’s old life.
“Well, anyway,” Michael continues, “we got there, umm, the other assassin and me got there and umm, oh - his name was Francis. So anyway, we got there and we watched Jesus because we knew we’d see Dr. Paulson if we did and umm, I saw Jesus healing people. There was this one guy who was carried in on a stretcher and his legs were just these shriveled little sticks that were all bent the wrong way, and I watched them bend back right and he got up and walked. And there were blind guys and people with diseases and all kinds of stuff that nobody here has ever seen. So I started thinking maybe Cephas, um I mean Dr. Paulson, was telling the truth and maybe I didn’t want to kill him, no matter how much money Henry was going to pay us when we got back.”
The viewer count tops one hundred thousand and is now jumping a thousand at a time. The tracer locks in on a computer that sits in an old warehouse in Montana.
“So anyway, we went to the crucifixion. Wow. I’ve seen some torture before, but a crucifixion is something you don’t ever want to see. It’s something horrible. It got real dark for hours, without any clouds or eclipse or anything too, and when that was done, Christ died and there was an earthquake. I thought I was going to get judged right there, but now I know why He did it. He died for me and everyone else to take away my sins, and yours.”
Michael is sort of babbling, but I don’t care. It’s real testimony from his heart.
The tracer locks a third time and I notice it’s the Fort Collins location again. I look up at Cindi and Martha, and they smile.
“We’re bouncing it back and forth between those computers twenty times. If they get through that, we’re set to bounce it around a loop of about ten computers and after that around some old satellites. Michael can talk all day if he wants.”
“It was the next morning that I got to talk to Dr. Paulson. He told me lots of stories from the Bible and convinced me to come with him to watch the tomb. I saw a real angel come down and roll back the stone, and I saw someone walk out of the tomb. Then we went to Galilee and I saw Jesus alive, and I knew right there it didn’t matter what happened, for the rest of my life, I’d be a Christian. And we all got baptized by Simon Peter and that’s about the end of my story. That’s what happened. Do you have anything to add to that, Dr. Paulson?”
I rejoin Michael in front of the camera.
“It’s your testimony, Michael. I wouldn’t add a word to your experience. I’m just glad you were there with me and that you’re here with me now. Are there any questions for Michael?”
The viewer count tops one million for the first time ever, and just keeps climbing.
Questions for Michael start pouring into the system and I let him run with them. He takes questions about time travel and what each of the apostles looked like. He even takes the question about what happened to Francis, to which he simply responds: “He died and we buried him,” without elaborating further.
A young woman in Sweden says she has a question for both of us.
“Go ahead,” I say.
“Michael said you were both baptized by Simon Peter in Galilee. Would one of you baptize me?”
“I’ll do it,” Michael says without hesitation. “I was born and raised in McIntosh, South Dakota. I’ll meet you there and baptize you in McIntosh Lake.”
I choose not to point out that publicly announcing where he’s going to be is a big mistake.
****
When we get back to London, it’s time to pack and catch a private flight to Miami. The crew that’s taking us does a regular run between London and Miami for some wealthy client, so the flight plan will be nothing unusual.
I knock on Michael’s door and he tells me to come in. It’s not like any of us has many possessions, but it’s clear he hasn’t attempted to pack.
“We need to catch our flight,” I say.
“Geoff is staying two more days. I talked to him, and he said I could stay in London and fly back with him.”
“Are you sure? Miami’s pretty nice this time of year.”
“I’m sure. A whole lot’s happened in a short time, you know? It’s pretty hard to take it all in, and there are still things I need to sort through in my head. A couple of days by myself will be good for me.”
“They say I’m a pretty good sorter,” I say.
“I know you are. I just think I need to do my own sorting right now. Besides, James says that now we’ve been seen on the media together, we should travel separately anyway.”
“Okay, but do me a favor and contact me before doing anything risky, okay?”
“Of course. You do me a favor too, Cephas. I’ve lived my life up until now not trusting anyone. I know you want to trust people - it’s just in your nature - but it’s going to get you killed. The Bureau can reach anyone and buy anyone, and someday they’re going to buy someone you trust, and they’ll have you. Don’t trust anyone, Cephas.”
“So we’re agreed then,” I say. “We’ll only fully trust the Lord?”
“It’s a deal. You and me, we’ll only fully trust the Lord.”
****
The flight to Miami is much bumpier than expected due to a hurricane forming in the Caribbean. Martha spends the last part of the flight looking green, running to the bathroom, and saying that English cooking is only slightly worse coming up than it was going down.
We arrive in Miami in the middle of the night and move to a luxury room in a resort for some rest. After sleeping until noon, Martha feels much better; so she runs to a shop to buy herself a new bathing suit. While she’s out, I comb through news for reports on the toxin.
“You’re not going to get much beach time,” I say when Martha returns from shopping. “The schedule has been bumped, so instead of staying two days, we’re catching a midnight tube back to Winchester.”
She just smiles and disappears into the bathroom. When she comes out, she’s wearing a very flattering bikini.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
“Oh, yes. I like it very much.”
“What would you say is your favorite part?”
She starts turning so I can see her from all possible angles.
“It’s no contest.”
I smile and walk over to her. I take her left hand and point to her wedding band.
“Of the entire ensemble, this is my favorite part.”
“You are smooth, Cephas Paulson. Very smooth.”
“You’re not going to hit the beach right away, are you?” I ask with raised eyebrows.
“Beach? I never had any plans to hit the beach today.”
We’re definitely getting better at the whole “flirting” thing.
As I’m trying to think of what to say next, Martha starts staring over my shoulder. I left the screen on but muted, playing the world news.
“Cephas.”
I turn to see a shot of Michael that was recorded in London several hours ago. He waded into the Thames and offered to baptize anyone who wanted to repent of their sins and receive the love of Christ. A crowd of hundreds grew around him in minutes. He baptized for about an hour, before local cult hunters were dispatched and the live camera feeds were cut off. Even private feeds of people recording the event using their coms are jammed.
There are conflicting eyewitness reports of what happened next. Some say Michael walked out with the crowd, while others say he dove beneath the waters and never came up again. One bystander is quoted as seeing a bright light, after which Michael disappeared, though London authorities are quick to point out that one of London’s oldest remaining skyscrapers, known as “The Walkie-Talkie” building, often causes bright reflections at that time of day.
Then, even those reports are blacked out, and any news about Michael is buried beneath endless stories about two new sex-heightening drugs that have been released onto the market. Henry’s attempt to bring the masses back to the mindless state where he wants them is thwarted by Four, as they hack all major channels. We see videos showing that some of the hundred or so who were baptized by Michael are now back in the Thames, where they’re baptizing others.
I’m sure Henry’s grandfathers would have been proud of the patience and restraint he’s shown since my speech between the marble columns of the Department of Energy. He couldn’t arrest everyone who raised their arms into a cross, so I imagine he took a longer view and hoped the newfound faith was just a temporary spark that would soon burn out.
When Four shows the world what’s happening in London, Henry’s patience ends. The kill teams take to the streets all over the world, to “ensure public freedom from unwanted religion.” Even in London, there’s no resistance as the Corps members march through the streets in two and threes. As I watch the news coverage, I can see it in some people’s eyes. The cross is kept safely in their hearts and can’t be taken away from them.
****
Zip uses the opportunity to strike. The first murder of a cult hunter happens an hour later, in Germany. Surveillance cameras show he was travelling home at night on a hover bus, when it jerked to a stop. He was watching something on a tablet computer, so he didn’t even notice when three people dressed in black, with their faces covered, entered the bus. One of them simply walked up to him and shot him in the head with a stun gun at point blank range. At full power, it was lethal. Another took out a paint stick and wrote a large number “four” on the window above his corpse. Starting a war with the Cult Hunter Corps took Zip less than thirty seconds.
It’s no different from when I was The Cult Hunter. I haven’t personally killed any of them, yet my decisions make me responsible for all of it.
Within hours, even that story is buried, because the mysterious “disease” that started with one man in the south Pacific somehow escaped quarantine in the Solomon Islands. The first new case was in Kendari, Indonesia, but every major population center on the island of Sulawesi is showing the initial symptoms. The fatality rate is nearly one hundred percent, which means hundreds of thousands will die. The only bright spot is that a few large cities are showing lower infection rates, and some rural areas have been spared completely, though nobody knows why. World health officials announced they can’t even find the infectious agent causing the outbreak, so all treatments have been ineffective.
The first test of the toxin was one person, now thousands. How many next time?