Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy (2 page)

The crowd let out a deafening roar as Devante stepped onto the makeshift stage. From the podium, he looked out at the multitudes in the stands and on the field. He solemnly tapped the microphone, then stood there in silence.

Rev. Bailey’s assistant nudged the reverend. “Is he all right?”

“Probably a tad stage-struck, that’s all. He’ll be… What’s he doing? Darn. Security!” Rev. Bailey and his assistant raced to where Devante, microphone in hand, had just jumped off the stage.

The horde beset him in screaming adoration, suffocating him as they tried to draw closer. Devante kept moving, far into the crowd.

Then he stopped and lifted the microphone that Rev. Bailey had taught him to use.

“Please sit. I go nowhere. I am here to talk to you.” He waited until the voices turned to murmurs and the rustling of people subsided. Finally the stadium was quiet, with only the sounds of a cough here and there, and a child’s wail. Devante looked to a woman who sat on the ground before him. She held a baby, and Devante stepped up to her.

He lifted the child from her and held the baby in his arms. “A simple child holds the answers. The openness of their minds. Believers in all that we tell them. How shameful that we lose this ability as we become older.” He ran his hand over the baby’s face and handed her back to her mother. “Money, lust, greed, power, these change us. They make us into people who fear the tax collector more than God. You search with questions, yet when you are given the answers you turn your heads.” He paused and scanned the horde. “I knew I was returning to this earth long before those who re-created this body did. Yet when they told you I was coming, the people of this world scoffed. They ridiculed, were outraged and rose up in violence. To what purpose? To stop my arrival on this earth. History does indeed repeat. The man who created this new body is the Pontius Pilate of our time. You search for him in the rubble of a building destroyed for my freedom. But, he is not there. He plots to take my life, to take me from you. How do I know this? Because, I know all.”

The crowd murmured quietly.

Devante pivoted slowly as he spoke. “And you know why I have returned.... The time for the end is at hand!”

The stadium filled with screams and cries. Devante held up his hand to quiet them. “The numbers of believers will be small. The doubters will not listen to what I say, nor will they believe what will take place until they are blasted with the truth. And until all believe in who I am, the devastation will continue.” He paused. “The first of such events will take place in two days, when the sun is at its highest in the sky. Right here where I stand. In the city of my birth. The appointed new Babylon of this world.” Devante’s voice deepened with power. “With a mighty vengeance, fire will fall from the sky, tossed with the hand of strength upon this city. The ground will shake, buildings will crumble, and in a burst of the sun that will land upon the earth, all life within the city will cease. When the silence happens… when the dust of destruction settles... I will speak again. And then, more people will listen and believe.”

The quiet chuckles emanating from the living room disturbed the reverend, but he couldn’t afford to let it get to him. Still, Devante’s Bible reading had unsettled him. Rev. Bailey had just turned off the news and left his gin-soaked wife upstairs. He was reluctant to return to his houseguest and hear him laugh his way through the New Testament. But he did return.

“You, uh... like that, do you?” he asked Devante.

Devante looked up from the Bible. “It is informative.” He reached to the table next to him for a large mug. “And this beverage. I like it. It is warm, sweet and energizing.”

“Mocha latte. I find it refreshing after flying, myself. Jet lag, you know. Our cook makes the best. Indulge; you can have another if you like.”

“I will, while I read.”

“May I...” Rev. Bailey stepped closer. “May I have your attention for a moment?”

“Yes.” Devante closed the Bible.

“Good.” Rev. Bailey walked over to the television. “You told the people they have to believe. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was hoping you might speak to this man.” Rev. Bailey turned on the television and switched the channel. On the screen appeared the Pope delivering a message to a throng at Saint Peter’s Basilica.

Devante watched silently for a couple of minutes, seemingly spellbound. “Who is he?” he asked finally. “And how does he have all those people listening to him?”

“He’s what they call The Pope.”

“The Pope?”

“Catholics believe he’s God’s right-hand man.”

Devante seemed offended. “There is no such thing.”

“You and I may know that. But...” Rev. Bailey pointed to the television. “...not these people. They listen to his counsel.” Rev. Bailey paused. “And he’s telling them... not to believe in you.”

Devante looked at the Reverend, then back to the television, and smiled.

Kyle tried to filter out any religious bias when he watched the news about Devante. To Kyle, Devante was a walking, talking contradiction, an anomaly. Not to mention all the phony trappings: the grandeur of his speech, the stadiums, the all-believing crowds, the cheesy script from a dog-eared Bible. Kyle cheered the young U.S. President when, during an emergency press conference, he denounced Devante as a dangerous religious eccentric and scoffed patently at his prophesies of biblical disaster. Kyle literally applauded when the President scolded a reporter for suggesting that the Federal Emergency Management Agency evacuate Chicago.

Then came the black rain. It was a rain with the consistency of black tar that fell thickly upon the Vatican, until it was transformed into millions of snakes, dropping from the sky as the Pope called for all believers in God to unite against Devante.

Kyle began to reconsider.

Later that afternoon, the tenor of the news changed drastically, and with it Kyle’s now-mercurial beliefs. Kyle’s head spun. But it didn’t spin enough for him to lose focus of what he had to do.

“...with the plan set to be in full swing within one hour in an attempt to evacuate three million-plus people who live in Chicago and the greater vicinity before the noon-time destruction predicted by Devante.”

Kyle looked once more to the television, then to the revolver on his lap. He checked the chamber and placed it in a knapsack.

“The Federal Emergency Management Agency’s Jack Ross is confident about the evacuation plans, and says if everyone follows the procedures posted on the emergency broadcasting station or at local municipal buildings, a safe evacuation will be complete hours before the deadline.”

Kyle unfroze at Eliza’s words as she stood at the kitchen door. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said. “Herbie got the help there.”

“And I appreciate Herbie. But …they’re evacuating, Eliza. How long do you think they’ll keep on digging?”

“Army transport vehicles, buses and planes are being moved into the city as I speak. Authorities are urging all those in Chicago to comply by the evacuation rules and obey martial law, which officially went into effect at midnight. Downtown Chicago is the central starting point for evacuation...”

“See?” Kyle pointed to the television. “That’s where the Institute is located. Center of town. They’ll stop digging. You have the money right? I’ll need it if I’m to get them two out of the city... if I can find them, that is.”

“I have it,” Eliza sighed. “You’re going straight to the Institute?”

“Yes. They’re in there and alive. Herbie said their phone was gonna die, but they would too, unless we get them out.” Kyle set the knapsack on the floor.

“...Joliet, Aurora, and Gary, Indiana will be the seven locations set up for camps where Chicago residents will wait until the all-clear is given.”

Kyle grabbed his keys and rushed to the smaller bedroom, where his grandson Seth sat playing games. “Hey. I’m off.”

“You’re gonna go get mom?” Seth asked.

“I’m going to try,” Kyle said, and then walked over to say goodbye. “Now, Eliza will stay here with you. I’ll only be gone a day or so, so you be good.” Running his hand over Seth’s head, Kyle bent down and kissed him.

Back in the living room, Kyle listened to the latest on his blaring TV.

“...ninety-four, two-ninety four, eighty, seventy-six, fifty-seven, fifty-five. Once again, these are the major interstates now closed to incoming traffic, beginning seven miles from the city limits in order to optimize highway access and use. Evacuation busses will be on hand to transport people from their vehicles if necessary.”

Eliza shook her head, eyes closed. “A nightmare. They’re just rattling directions as if it’s an everyday occurrence instead of the end.”

“Don’t say that,” Kyle exclaimed. “If they don’t hide their feelings, people will panic.”

“It’s too close to home. Chicago is just too close. Is it going to happen, Kyle?”

“I don’t know. I know if it affects us, we’re ready. Right?”

Eliza nodded.

“But we can’t sit by with our kids trapped in Chicago.” He picked up his knapsack. “You keep this place locked tight. The keys to the Chevy are hanging by the kitchen door if you need them. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Kyle grabbed his belongings. “Thanks for watching Seth.” He walked to the door.

“Kyle,” Eliza called. “I’ll pray for you. Bring our children home.”

Kyle paused for a second in the open doorway, eyes fixed in the distance. Then he nodded, smiled, and said, “Count on it.”

“Whoa,” Marcus uttered as the ground trembled and pieces of plaster rained down on him and Reggie as they sat on the floor. He swept his hand over his head, clearing the dust and debris.

“You think they’re trying to shake a way loose?” Reggie asked.

Marcus shrugged and muttered. “Has to be a way out. We’re breathing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but we don’t know how much air we have,” Reggie said, half smiling.

“You may be right about shaking things loose.”

“You really think that’s good?” she asked.

“Fifty-fifty. It could crush us, but it could open up a passage.”

“Yeah. How long do you suppose it will take for them to find us?”

“Depends on the amount of rubble, their manpower, and how long they’ll stay at it.”

No sooner did Marcus say that than the drilling stopped. He and Reggie both looked up.

“Dinner,” Marcus said. “They stopped for dinner.”

“Dinner? Wonder what they’re having,” she mused sarcastically.

“Why else would they stop?”

“Are you trying to convince me… or yourself?”

“Neither. No convincing needed. They stopped for a break.” Marcus glanced up at the roof, trying to shake off the anxiety of this new silence.

Rev. Bailey peeked into the living room to see how his wife and Devante were getting along. He saw Devante’s annoyance immediately. He couldn’t blame him. Her high pitched, rapid accent could bore a hole in a vault. And yet, Bailey felt a vicious humor. The divine Devante was, at least temporarily, trapped with Grace, who was still in her robe, and jabbering a mile a minute.

“And then I said to my mother… She’s eighty-two, you know. I said to her. We should be packing up and going to the hills. But my mother insisted that we stay put because the hills would crumble. Isn’t that right? I heard that was right. You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“Which do you desire to know of the sundry questions you have asked in these past twenty seconds?” Devante sighed.

“If you know if we should head for the hills. Or is that giving away family secrets? I think my mother’s wrong. She’s eighty-two years old, you know. She could go to bed and not wake up. Of course, with the world ending... we could all go to bed and not wake up. But, then again, we would wake up, wouldn’t we? In the kingdom of God. But you above all would know that.”

“Woman! Silence!” Devante flung out his hand, his face registering disgust.

She was out like a light. A gin catnap.

“I am so sorry.” Rev. Bailey said on his way in, stifling a smile “I didn’t mean to take so long and leave you. But that crowd...” He saw Grace and smiled. “Oh, God bless gin.”

“She speaks so much and too fast.”

“I agree. Anyhow,” Rev. Bailey exhaled, “the crowd is tremendous outside. The news media is well-represented, and the L.A.P.D’s falling all over themselves to clear traffic. It’s blocked for miles. There is nothing I can do...” the reverend smiled smugly.

“Why do they not just go away?” Devante asked.

“They want to see you.”

“Will they disburse then?”

“Probably not.”

“Nevertheless, we shall try.” Devante stood up and started for the door. “We will give them what they want, and I will request that they return to their homes.”

“I don’t think that will...” Rev. Bailey tossed up his hands when Devante kept moving. “I urge you...” He followed him into the foyer. “Please do not open that...” Rev. Bailey cringed as the screams of the crowd flooded into the sound-proofed home. Devante was already outside.