When I left the river and went into the woods, the stream of new videos stopped, and eventually the crowd dispersed. To avoid exposing Trinity House, we decide to sleep in the woods, and I fall so deeply into sleep that I don’t wake up until Cindi touches my shoulder, just after dawn.
“I just patrolled to the edge of the woods to our south, and there’s no sign of any cult hunters. Martha is doing the same to the north.”
“Martha’s alone?”
“She made a staff for herself, and still has a chip on her shoulder about pregnancy not slowing her down. Feel sorry for the cult hunters.”
I smile, because I know Cindi is right.
“Cephas, before she comes back, I want to say I’m sorry for how I acted back at Gethsemane. Maybe you were right not to tell me that Geoff was missing.”
“What I said about knowledge being dangerous is true; but that’s not why I kept it to myself. For years, I acted as if I had no emotions … but the truth is that I feel things very deeply and the memory of those emotions sticks with me. I just didn’t want to add the memory of your face when I told you the news to all the other sad memories I carry. I was being selfish.”
“I understand.”
“Cindi? There’s something else. Before we all went our separate ways the day of the wedding, James told me he was going to McIntosh to find Geoff.”
She inhales audibly.
“At least they’ll be together,” she says.
We both hear Martha approaching.
“They’ve all pulled back, but who knows how far,” Martha says. “We’d never see high-level drones in this light. They’re probably watching us on thermal cameras right now, to see what we do next, and will surround us once we’re in the open.”
“Not today,” I say, and smile. “They could have nabbed us at any time. Henry saw the sound bites he was getting in the river yesterday and called off his dogs. He must want more.”
“So you think he’s going to just let you just walk out of here?” Martha asks.
“It won’t be the first time. Didn’t going unnoticed by the troops on the bridge in Ohio and escaping tracking drones in Colorado Springs seem a little too easy?” I ask.
“What about Ogallala?” Cindi asks.
“I think we were ahead of them that time, and again in Sheridan.”
I shake my head and start to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Martha asks.
“I’m looking at puzzles within puzzles, and pretending I can solve them; but I’m not the master of any of them anymore. The search for the notebook page has been a distraction, but not in the way I thought. At first I was distracting and lying to you two. Then I thought we really were distracting Henry from an airborne release of the toxin. The truth is, all along I’ve just been lying to - and distracting - myself to delay giving Henry what he really wants.”
Martha looks away; but Cindi stares at me as I stare into space, until she can’t take it anymore.
“Well? If not the notebook page, what does Henry want?”
“At first, he would’ve been happy to just get his hands on me … but we’ve driven him past that point. Henry’s an atheist; but like many atheists, he knows the Bible. Look at what he did yesterday with the men in the crowd. He got everyone calling to me for salvation from the plague. He wants me to preach and baptize openly, and draw out crowds of followers - just like Jesus did. He wants to build up their hope in me, rather than in Jesus. Then he’ll unleash the plague and watch everyone turn on me - just like the crowds turned on Jesus.”
“So what should we do?” Martha asks.
“I have to stop playing Henry’s game. I’m not Jesus, and I’m not turning over the tables of the money changers, or preaching in the Temple.”
“Haven’t you already?” Cindi asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you didn’t literally turn over any tables here in 2202; but you kind of did the equivalent when you gave your speech in D.C. Then you started hacking broadcasts, and tens of thousands flocked to you - welcoming you into their homes and listening to you spread the good news.”
I close my eyes.
“Maybe you’ll find a way to reach even more people,” Cindi continues. “Maybe you’ll have a modern Triumphal Entry, on a worldwide scale.”
She’s right. You know she’s right - but you’re not accepting it. You’re still not trusting His plan.
“So what comes after that? My crucifixion?” I ask as I open my eyes.
Cindi looks frightened by the suggestion.
“We’re skipping that part,” Martha says.
How I wish that were true, Martha. How I wish that were true.
*****
We walk out of the woods and into downtown Dallas, without seeing a drone in the sky or anyone I can positively identify as a Federal agent. That doesn’t mean we go unrecognized. People quietly walk up to me in the street and shake my hand and ask for blessings. They tell me they have faith that I can stop the plague, and that soon everyone who wants it will have religious freedom. Others recognize me and cross the street to get out of my path, making it clear to anyone watching that they don’t want to be associated with me.
We see many cameras as we walk towards the tube station, but don’t try to conceal our faces. When we reach the station, we finally see two Corps guys dressed in black combat gear. They acknowledge our presence, but make no effort to stop us; so, instead of sneaking into the cargo tube area, we go to the area where public transport tubes load and board a car going to Memphis.
When the car detects the discrepancy between the number of passengers it can see via electronic signature and the number is sees on its infrared camera, it refuses to move, and asks all passengers to put in their coms for an important announcement. Not wanting to give away any information about our hacked coms, we refuse, and the message repeats three times before the lockout is mysteriously overridden and we’re speeding towards Memphis.
The Memphis tube station is near the river; so we walk towards the Mississippi, until we find a sidewalk café offering authentic barbeque. With all of the dietary supplements that people take, and enhancements that regulate metabolism, many people have moved away from eating meat - but not the people of Memphis. We gorge ourselves on the finest chicken and ribs I’ve ever tasted, and then proceed towards the river.
While we were eating, many people stopped and looked at us. Most made calls on their coms; so by the time we reach a footbridge to Muddy Island River Park, there are fifty people walking with us, and many more joining all the time.
I find a shallow spot, and dip my feet into the river. The water is warmer than I expected it to be, so I close my eyes and wiggle my toes in the mud. The people who’ve gathered respectfully give me this moment of simple joy. When I turn, I ask the question that doesn’t need to be asked: “Who would like to be baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit?”
As the people line up, we again watch as tiny government surveillance drones quietly find hiding spots among the trees and rocks. I baptize for hours, waiting to see how Henry intends to manipulate the crowd this time. Once again, it starts with a man on the shore, in dry clothing, calling out to me - while those around him are wet from baptism.
“Cephas, can you save people from the plague?”
Henry wants me to be viewed as a savior…
“Why are you so concerned? You’ve already been vaccinated.”
He doesn’t deny it; but it’s not the kind of answer he was expecting, and he doesn’t know how to respond. A quick-thinking colleague on the other side of the crowd covers for him.
“Is it true you’re telling Christians not to get the vaccine because you think it’s the biblical mark of the beast?”
Henry wants Christians viewed as a suicide cult…
“I’ve never told Christians to get vaccinated or not to get vaccinated. I’ve told everyone that I twice saw Christ crucified and risen, and that we should place our trust in Him.”
“Should we rise up against the government?” the first man asks.
Henry wants Christians to be viewed as dangerous…
“Christ taught that we should submit to the government in matters where the government has been given sovereignty, and submit to God in matters where God alone is sovereign.”
“The world is living in peace. Why are you bringing a new Holy War?” the first man yells.
“Jesus said in Matthew, chapter ten: ‘Don’t imagine that I came to bring peace to the earth! No, I came to bring a sword.’ The world is no more at peace now than it was when Christ walked on the earth. Only Christ can bring true peace to the world.”
The crowd finally catches on that these men were sent by Henry to ask such questions, and grab hold of them.
“Stop,” I say. “All of their questions can be easily answered by the truth found in the word of God. They came in peace, so let them go in peace.”
The two men sulkily disappear through the crowd.
I’m look directly into the camera of a mini drone.
“Send tougher questions next time, Henry.”
*****
Muddy Island River Park contains a large dock where tour boats stop, as they make their way up and down the Mississippi. Most of them are sex and gambling cruises; but we find one that’s simply a scenic river cruise that’ll take us up the river to St. Louis, stopping at many smaller cities and towns along the way. At each stop, we get off the boat to baptize, always under the watchful eye of drones; but no more planted questions come my way. If Cindi’s right - that I unknowingly did an electronic “table turning,” - then I suppose this trip to Dallas then up the Mississippi must be my version of teaching in the temple.
But it’s not quite time to pray at Gethsemane.
Both the boat dock and the tube station are housed in a single large terminal in St. Louis, so as I remain on the deck of the ship - under the watchful eyes of the drones - Martha appeals to three of the recently-baptized faithful for their help. When I enter the terminal building, the drones can no longer keep a visual eye on me, but they will continue to track my movements with infrared scanners, used in conjunction with the many security cameras inside the building.
Martha has found a spot in the tube station where there’s just one camera. It’s only about three meters up; so I give Martha a quick boost and she simply unplugs it. I have to laugh at the absurdity. The camera is linked into a central computer, which allows it to automatically scan millions of facial features, identifying anyone who walks in and out of its view. It has lip reading software so it can “hear” what people are saying, and can detect the frequencies given off by the enhancements that are implanted in people’s bodies. Yet, in spite of all of its sophistication, disabling it is still as simple as pulling a plug.
When the camera is off, we simply start to hug the dozen or so new friends in the group. The hacked coms in our ears automatically download identity information from the three who agreed to help, and shut down their coms. Electronically we’ve switched places. The hope is that there’s enough hugging that the infrared scanners will be momentarily confused.
We all head for tubes. The people we switched places with are travelling west, to Kansas City, while we’re continuing north. We can see the departure board from our car. The Kansas City car has been delayed - presumably because there are three people aboard who are leaving no electronic signature. After a minute, the override is activated and their car leaves, indicating that the Corps has taken the bait.
“Where to now?” Martha asks.
I look at Cindi, whose eyes are pleading with me; then back to Martha.
“McIntosh.”
*****
McIntosh, South Dakota is one of those places that could have disappeared when life became automated. Before the Final Holy War, it had a population of only two hundred and thirty. When the war reduced the world’s population by three billion people, most farming communities shrank, and McIntosh was no exception. At one point in its history, it had only twelve year-round residents.
When the Sunspot One reactor brought unlimited electricity and complete automation to farming, McIntosh was reborn when it was chosen to receive a station on the tube system for loading grains. At two hundred permanent residents, it would be overly generous to say that the town became a metropolis; but it is one of many beloved farming crossroads that dot the Great Plains.
Unfortunately for us, the tube line that saved the town is now the only public transportation still servicing it, and the station was closed when Zip attacked. The next nearest tube station is forty-five kilometers away, in McLaughlin, and is crawling with Corps agents, as they’re shuttled to and from McIntosh on military transports. Our only choice is to climb inside a dusty, automated grain truck that travels overland to a farm five kilometers south of town.
Cindi has maps that Zip sent to Hank when she was hoping for outside help. We’re trying to make a plan as we walk.
“It was easy for The Corps to hem Zip in,” Cindi says. “The south side of town is basically walled off by the tube line, and the east side is the lake. There are three places where grain trucks pass under the tube line and a causeway that splits the lake; but they’re all heavily guarded.”
“What about the north and west sides?” Martha asks.
“Henry set a perimeter along two old roads. There are no trees, deep ravines, or cover of any kind. There’s just open ground where anyone could see you from kilometers away.”
“Let’s assume that by the time Geoff arrived, the perimeter was too tight to pass through. What would he do?” I ask.
“Hit and run attacks,” Martha replies, and Cindi nods.
“What about James?” I ask.
“Gather intelligence. James would look for weak spots, and then try to get the information to Zip to make a coordinated attack from two sides.”
We stop when we see the tube line in the distance. It does indeed look like a massive wall. Cindi takes binoculars out of her pack.
“It’s a normal tube line. There’s no way to climb over. It looks like they’ve built some watch towers on top, but they must lift the Corps guys up there with drones.”
When we’re a kilometer from the tube, we come to an old irrigation ditch. It’s wide, with a sandy bottom and definite signs of recent foot traffic.
“They’re near,” I say.
“A patrol?”
“No, Geoff and James. That’s the same boot tread James was wearing when he left Bethany, and the steps toe out like I remember. I don’t see a definite print for Geoff; but based on these prints, six or seven people are out here - led by James.”
“Those prints could be days old,” Cindi says.
“They’re less than an hour,” I say. “They were made sometime after that late afternoon rain that drenched us, rolled through.”
We follow the prints.
“Crouch,” I say.
“Why?” Cindi asks.
“Because they did.”
The side of the ditch is low at this spot, and is lined up with one of the Corp’s watch towers. Our heads would be visible over the edge of the ditch if we hadn’t gotten low.
The tracks continue onward until they leave the ditch, heading south. I borrow Cindi’s binoculars and scan, as the sun sets.
“There they are, I say.”
We can see two people are at the base of some kind of agricultural equipment, while four others have formed a perimeter.
“That’s a monitoring station to tell the automated rigs exactly where to put water and fertilizer,” Cindi says. “I’ll bet they’re trying to use it for communications.”
“How do we get their attention - without getting shot?” Martha asks.
“It’ll be dark by the time they get back here. I’d hate to spook them if they’re well-armed,” Cindi replies.
I hand the binoculars back to Cindi.
“Watch the nearest tower for a reaction,” I say. “If they spot me, we’re all in trouble.”
I climb out of the ditch and put my arms out into a cross. Counting off ten seconds seems agonizingly long before I scramble back into the ditch.
“The guys in the nearest tower are focused inward, on McIntosh,” Cindi reports. “Did James spot you?”
“I have no idea. We’ll find out, if we get shot.”
We wait in the ditch until three dark figures slip over the embankment, with raised weapons. They’re all capable of moving silently, but are making noise to cover the movements of the three others, who are sneaking up behind us. If I turn, I’ll likely be shot.
“Put your hands up,” James says from behind.
“Only to hug you, Cousin,” I say. “Is that any way to greet family?”
“Cephas?” asks a voice in front of us.
“Geoff!” Cindi cries, and runs to her brother.
The group includes Blake, Stephen, Misty, and Sarah from Bethany House. They were all assigned to the rear command post in the Maggie Valley raid, and came here together. When Cindi releases him, James walks to me.
“I was praying you’d come to McIntosh, Cephas. We could use a puzzle solver right about now.”