Henry doesn’t waste any time in getting the torture underway, though stage one isn’t what I expect. A large screen is brought into the room, with the volume turned up to maximum.
First up is coverage of the siege in McIntosh, South Dakota. Drone footage shows lines of people at water stations, where members of Four are doling out rations of what little safe water remains. Henry has generously offered safe passage to registered citizens - as long as they take their assigned dose of his vaccine. None have accepted the offer.
At first, I’m surprised that Henry is allowing footage of defiant Christians to be broadcast to the world; but the scripted commentary of the announcers tells me his aim is to paint everyone in McIntosh as suicidal nuts. For decades, his strategy has been to get everyone to forget about religion through the use of sex and drugs. Now he seems intent on awakening them again, so long as he’s in complete control of the narrative.
Next is footage of Zip, in an intercepted conversation she had with Hank. Her lips look dry and she appears to be very tired.
“Hey, Hank, if you can get a message to Cephas, tell him that - at the current rate of depletion - we have just fifteen days of water remaining.”
“I have some bad news, Zip. Cameron reported that Cephas has been captured by The Corps.”
“Then get a message to Martha. Tell her I’m sorry.”
Zip’s as clever as her brother. She allowed the message to be intercepted. There’s no way they have that much water; so she was letting me know that she needs fifteen days to get everyone out of McIntosh.
As a torture, the footage of McIntosh is supposed to wear me down with feelings of responsibility and guilt; but, instead, I find myself feeling uplifted. The remaining saints that packed the town to be baptized by Michael appear to be real believers rather than the pretenders Henry expected them to be. I know there are cameras watching for my reactions; so I try to give them nothing.
It seems my lack of reaction works, because the feed switches to footage of my arrest in Sheridan. They switched my clothes to this robe before I even left the building, making it appear to the world that this robe has become my everyday attire. There are close-ups of my face, showing my head rolling to one side and blood dripping from my nose, as I’m carried to the large Corps hover bus. The Bible that belonged to Mrs. Pierce is held up as some sort of war trophy, “proof” that I was in the building teaching the Word. The commentators say that I was heavily armed and subdued after resisting arrest.
As the bus pulls away with me inside, the footage switches to an aerial shot from a news drone. As the commentators prattle on in the background about cult activities, the drone follows the bus west on Church Street. When it reaches Barr Street, I see Martha standing on the corner. My cousin Cindi has her arms around Martha’s shoulders, as they watch the bus pass. Ten meters away, I can see Cameron and his brother, Andrew. Other figures scattered about are likely the rest of the Four team.
Martha is safe.
I feel uplifted again, so the screen is turned off and Janet enters the room.
“Please don’t speak in the squeaky voice you used when you were my press secretary,” I say. “I still have a headache.”
“Not to worry,” she replies. “What I have here will give you headache enough; but first, I’m wondering about the ring that won’t come off your finger. Where’d you get it?”
“I bought it during my second go at time travel. It’s my wedding ring.”
I smile; then pretend to wince at the effort.
“I presume you’re claiming to be married to Martha McLeod? How did you manage a Christian wedding, with no priests around to do the job?”
They don’t know that Martha time traveled with me. If I answer truthfully, they’ll be gaining information to somehow twist against me. If I lie and say we were married in our own time, they’ll call the marriage a cultist sham because the government wasn’t involved.
Rather than answering, I just smile.
“No matter,” she replies. “Whatever she was to you, your beloved Martha McLeod is now dead.”
I continue the silence.
“Don’t believe me? Here’s the high-level drone footage from just before you walked into the old church,” Janet says.
The image is from about one thousand meters above street level. I watch the footage of me holding Martha by the arms. I can hear her voice again in my mind, begging me not to willingly walk into the obvious trap. I see myself turn towards the church, and Martha running in and out of the shadows of the huge old trees that line Church Street.
“You’ll love this part.”
Janet switches to her annoying, squeaky voice, and watches my reaction.
“Your Martha was good at evading drones; so here’s the shot from a drone that was farther south.”
The camera angles switch, showing Martha is still running west, now about four blocks away from where we parted. She disappears under a dense tree for a moment, and when she emerges, she’s tripped by a man who appears from around the corner of a house. He draws a stunner and fires on her at point-blank range. When she’s completely incapacitated, he puts the pistol directly against her temple and fires, causing her body to jerk. Even on a low setting, a stunner against the temple is usually lethal. He backs up and shoots her a couple more times for good measure; then walks away, his long shadow trailing behind him.
Long shadow? When I went into the church, it was noon. Even the tall steeple was casting a short shadow. Besides, the other footage showed Martha on the street corner when the bus pulled away with me inside. Are they really this incompetent? Or is there a reason for showing me things that I’ll easily see through?
I keep a steely-eyed stare on the screen, and let out a deep sigh.
“You should be happy, Cephas. It was a much better way to go than by the toxin.”
Wow. It looks like they really are that incompetent.
*****
When Janet leaves, the screen returns to loud news coverage of anything they can think of to depress me. There are reports from McIntosh; there are reports of continued airborne spread of the plague; and lots of footage of “Christian” corpses in Southeast Asia. Somehow I manage to sleep through much of it.
When the screen clicks off, I’m not surprised to see Henry enter my room - followed by two large security men.
“Cephas, you look depressed. How about if we get you onto your feet for a while?” he asks.
“Before you pound a nail through them? Sure, why not?”
I intentionally give a half-hearted smile.
Let him think his psychological assault is working.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“The star of the show needs to see his stage, don’t you think?” Henry replies.
Henry moves to undo the restraints.
“I do hope you’re not thinking of escape or a rescue. We learned a lot from the last time you were rescued. Five different tube cars buzzed around the country, following patterns consistent with transporting a prisoner of your importance. Even then, we’re quite sure that members of Four watched us move decoys into the NASA base in Michigan and into Corps headquarters in D.C. Nobody seemed to be watching when we got here though. Sorry.”
As I get off the bed, I purposefully lose my balance, and have to catch myself. The security men lunge forward, probably thinking I was about to attack Henry. One even kicks my leg; but I manage to stay on my feet, with the help of the bed.
You’re stronger than you thought you’d be - but not strong enough to take these two.
“Wheelchair?” asks Henry.
“No thanks. I need to build up my strength, so I’ll be ready to carry a cross.”
As we walk through the halls and up an elevator, I scan and analyze everything I can see. From the look of this facility, I would swear that I’m inside an old aircraft carrier rather than a mountain. Wherever it is, it’s very old and has been largely unused for a long time. The wires and lights hanging on the walls appear to be at least one hundred years old, and have a thick layer of dust to prove it. The air circulation system in this area may have been only recently restarted, because the air smells moldy.
“We have only the finest arrangements for you,” Henry says. “You’re in an underground bunker that was created prior to the Final Holy War to house nobody less than the President of the United States, and protect him from enemy missiles. Of course, that was when the president was worth saving. These days, we’d just let him fry and prop the next loser in line up in the chair. It’s an ideal location because it has all the video equipment we’ll need for your show.”
A Presidential bunker? We’re inside Cheyenne Mountain - just outside of Colorado Springs. The bunker was built above a military facility that was part of NORAD. I read about it years ago when I was first studying the Final Holy War. Henry must have loved the irony of bringing me “home” for his big finale.
Henry leads me through the halls, until we reach what appears to be an old television studio. It’s constructed like a theater, with seating for a few hundred and a stage where the President would speak to the nation in an emergency. In the center of the stage, two wooden posts have been bolted to the floor, each with a wrist cuff attached to it. I presume I’ll be chained to those posts as part of the show.
I walk to the posts and feel the rough wood. I stand between them and find they’re perfectly spaced so my arms will be fully extended when I’m chained.
“You won’t hang me on a cross, so you’ll chain me here, and make me look like a human cross instead?” I ask.
“I wanted to hang you on a real cross - but we outlawed all religious symbols decades ago,” Henry says, and laughs. “Still, I’m sure the symbolism will get through.”
I’m counting on it.
“So, what over-enhanced movie star did you hire as the host of the show?” I ask. “It can’t be Brock, I’d never get enough screen time.”
“I’m glad you asked, Cephas. I’ve been meaning to thank you for inspiring me to take the role myself. My family has been working in the shadows towards this day for generations, and you made me realize that it’s finally time for me to step into the limelight. My star will be born, as yours is finally snuffed out, and mankind can finally get on with living up to our true potential.”
*****
When the tour is over, I expect to be returned to the room with the bed; but instead I’m locked into a cold room that’s empty - except for the large screen on the wall, and a bucket in the corner. The screen isn’t carrying a live feed, but is set in a continuous loop of a woman pleading: “Help us, Cephas.” They play it for three hours straight. I can’t imagine how I manage it, but just as I drift off into sleep, the video stops and the door opens. After three hours, the sudden silence is almost as intrusive as the lady pleading for my help.
Garai steps into the room, flanked by two security men.
“Cephas, you look awful,” Garai says.
“You look worse - if you consider the tattered appearance of your soul,” I reply.
Garai just smiles.
“So what did he pay you, Garai? Thirty pieces of silver?”
“He paid me in a commodity of which you are short, I’m getting enough vaccine to save everyone in my organization who is off grid. We will become fully registered members of society. Unlike you, and the members of Four, we will live on.”
“If you gave Henry your membership list, you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” I say. “You should find out if it’s too late to get the silver, maybe it’ll be enough to buy a plot to bury you.”
“You have him all wrong, Cephas. Henry knows he can never kill all Christians, so he wants to find a way to integrate us. He’s the one who’s helped more moderate groups - such as mine - survive, while more radical groups - like Four - need to be controlled before they can damage society as a whole.”
“Society as a whole is already so damaged that God is now the only hope of repair,” I reply.
“And that is where my group will be successful - where yours has failed. Henry has agreed to let us teach - within certain boundaries. We’re to be called ‘The New Christians.’”
Garai sounds like a giddy child.
“Was the name ‘The Marked Christians’ already taken?” I ask. “And what exactly are ‘certain boundaries?’ You can’t teach only the parts of the Bible that are convenient for you.”
“We’ll work out those details later.”
He pulls a computer pad out of his pocket.
“Here. Look at the magnificent New Christian Cathedral I’ve designed.”
The video shows a gigantic glass and steel building with a towering steeple.
“Build whatever you want, Garai. You can’t make it a house of God. All you have there is a soulless building with a cross on top of it. It’s too bad Henry killed Aislin. She could have helped with the finances.”
“Do you really think the fools who work for Henry could accomplish killing Aislin by themselves? I had to lead them straight to her; but even I couldn’t have done it without your help. Turning on the light in her apartment to flush her out was pure genius.”
I try to never think of a person’s smile as good or evil, but Garai now gives me a reason.
“Even then, Henry still couldn’t get his part right and plant your DNA to make it look like you killed her,” Garai says.
“Why? Why did you kill her?”
“Aislin was much too dangerous to be left running around inside the government - especially after she told me she was going to ally herself with you. You’re right that she could have helped with finances though. I thought the hundred million or so I control was pretty good; but the money that woman controlled was well into the billions. It’s such a shame that you forced me to work with Henry, the three of us could have made an incredible team.”
“Why are you really here, Garai?” I ask. “I’m sure you didn’t stop by simply to gloat.”
“I’m here to help you save the members of Four, of course. Your membership is small - I’d guess just a few thousand at most. Henry has offered to let them live under my protection as ‘New Christians’ - if you can provide me with a members list.”
“I don’t speak for Four. Ask Austin.”
“Nobody has seen Austin for some time now,” Garai says. “I do hope nothing has happened to him.”
Garai smiles again and I see something that shocks me much more than his words. In the corners of his eyes - where there used to be subtle crow’s feet - the skin is now smooth. He’s had small enhancements placed there.
“Can you get Henry that information? It may save your life,” Garai says.
“He who loves his life will lose it,” I reply.
Garai’s face flushes red with anger. He turns on his heel to leave; but then stops, and looks at me over his shoulder.
“It’s such a shame about what happened at Gethsemane House in Sheridan. I’m sure you heard by now that the whole thing exploded in a ball of flame. If only their equipment hadn’t been jammed, they might have seen the missile coming and gotten out. I do hope your lovely wife wasn’t inside when it happened.”
He doesn’t know that we found his jammers. Gethsemane House did see it coming - and they got out. I can just feel it.