Rise of the Beast (27 page)

“Oh my heavens it’s cold out there,” remarked Sam Florence, stepping into the warm control room of the Discovery Channel Observatory.

Ken, the 62-year-old observatory assistant smiled. “Eight below zero, according to the thermometer. Welcome back to the high country, Sam. It’s a far cry from Phoenix.”

Sam smiled and sat down beside Ken at the control console. “Ten minutes until morning twilight. This observing run is just about over.”

“You got two clear nights back to back,” noted Ken. “You had no equipment problems this time around. We didn’t even have to pray over the equipment.”

“You might not have, but I did,” noted Sam. “I do every night I observe.”

That comment made Ken laugh. “It’s probably not a bad idea. I reckon that you’ll have a mountain of data to go through before you come back this way again in April.”

“I only took three images of the comet,” noted Sam. “Mostly I was searching for new snowballs beyond Neptune. I computed the position of the comet, got a new orbital solution. I think I can safely say that there is a zero percent chance of impact with Earth.” Sam paused. “You know, Ken, I had really convinced myself that this comet was the Wormwood spoken of in the book of Revelation. You know, the flying mountain cast into the sea.”

“You’re not the only one who thought that,” said Ken. “Still, the end of times, she is a coming, you mark my words. The Beast is already among us. He ought to be, oh, about 35 or 36 years old about now.”

Sam looked at Ken with an expression of puzzlement. “Now how do you figure that?”

“Simple,” replied Ken. “Every Christian is familiar with the Christmas star, the star the wise men followed to Bethlehem. It’s only spoken of in the Book of Matthew, but we’re given quite a bit of detail about it. All sorts of people have puzzled over what that star was over the years.”

“It was probably a planetary conjunction,” said Sam. “Two planets passed unusually close together in the sky. It means something to astrologers.”

“Right,” confirmed Ken. “But this wasn’t just any planetary conjunction, not this one. It was a great conjunction, a triple conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn. I’m here to tell you, they’re rarer than hen’s teeth. Jupiter passed
Saturn in its orbit because it is moving faster around the sun. It has the inner track, too. Then Earth overtakes Jupiter and it seems to move backward, passing Saturn again. Then Jupiter moves forward again and passes Saturn a third time. It only happens about once in 1400 years. But those Zoroastrian priests, they were watching out for one. Their great prophet, better than a thousand years before, had proclaimed that the next triple conjunction would foretell the coming of a great king who would save the world. He said that that king would be born in Israel. So when it finally happened, off they went. Well you know the rest of the story.”

“Right,” confirmed Sam. “But what does that have to do with the birth of the Beast? I always thought the Beast was Nero.”

“Well, he was, in a manner of speaking,” said Ken. “But he was only the first. Jesus said that this generation would see it all, speaking of the horrors of the Beast. But he also said that in the last days that people would grow greatly in knowledge and wisdom. That’s today. There was another triple conjunction back in 1981, and it occurred on the exact opposite side of the sky from the one in 6 B
.C
. Everything about it was opposite to the 6 B
.C
. event. You’d be amazed. That 1981 event was something to see.”

“That was a bit before my time,” admitted Sam.

“But not mine,” said Ken. I remember it well. And with that conjunction, the Beast was born.”

“I’ve never been much for astrology,” said Sam.

“It ain’t astrology,” corrected Ken. “It is an example of signs and wonders in the sky. I reckon the comet will fit into that bill, too. When a charismatic leader shows up over in Europe, a leader who is about 36 years old, watch out, the end of days are almost upon us.”

C
HAPTER 11

“The sun will soon sink into the sea, my dear one,” said 36-year-old Julien Devereux, looking through the open French doors that lead out onto the balcony overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. “Do you think that we shall hear it hiss as it hits the cool waters of the sea, my son?”

There was no response. Julien looked to the bed where his son lay. His head was propped up on the pillows, facing the double doors. His eyes were open, but they held but an empty stare. A trace of drool hung at the corner of his quivering lips. Julien placed another damp cloth on his 11-year-old son’s head. Adrien was having another of his fevers. The doctor said that these would come and go as the disease progressed, but this one was the worst to date. His body was fighting another infection, though by the looks of it, his son’s immune system was weakening.

“And on the other side of that great sea is Africa,” he continued. “It’s a place of deserts and jungles. There the sun shines down with all of its fury. It shines down on a land of camels and elephants, lions and crocodiles. Someday we must visit it, the two of us.”

His son made a faint gurgling sound. Julien was unsure if it was but a random spasm or the whisper of a response from his son.

“Yes, we shall go there,” he continued. “We shall travel up the Nile, from the land of the pharoses to a land of jungles hardly explored by people. When you are better, my son, when you are better, that is where we shall go.”

Julien thought back to the other love of his life. His wife, Mira, had died from the complications of bringing his son into this world. But that hadn’t diminished his love for Adrien. Oh no, that could never be. Adrien had his mother’s eyes and her smile. When he was close to him, he felt close to her. Julien had never remarried. He hadn’t felt the need to. Instead, he had built his world around his son.

For nine wonderful years Adrien had been such a vital child, the apple of his father’s eye. Bright, inquisitive, and always on the move, he had been hard to keep up with. He’d excelled in school and he was a constant source of pride for Julien. Then the problems had started. Adrien began to tire easily and slept ever more. His grades declined, as did his coordination. Then came the first of those terrible seizures. It had terrified Julien. Adrien had collapsed right after breakfast in a grand mol seizure that sent him writhing on the floor for nearly two minutes. A coma that had lasted nearly two days followed. And that was but the first episode. More seizures followed. With each seizure, Adrien’s condition worsened. The doctor’s diagnosis was Sandhoff Disease, a rare neurological disorder. There was no cure. Indeed, doctors were not all that certain of the cause, no less where to look for a cure. Still, Julien had searched the world for one. He’d seen the best doctors from New York to Shanghai, visited herbalists in the Far East, a famous Christian evangelist in America, and even a tribal witch doctor in the South Pacific; nothing had worked. The conclusion was inevitable. Adrien’s condition would steadily deteriorate. He would slowly slip away from Julien both mentally and physically. He would never see adulthood, and he would be a mental vegetable in a considerably shorter time. Indeed, his son hadn’t spoken to him in months beyond a few grunts and groans. He wondered if he even recognized him anymore.

As he thought back, it had been his experience with that television evangelist from America that had left the bitterest taste in Julien’s mouth. Come to think of it, he actually wasn’t an American. He simply preyed upon Americans. Oh, he was a smooth talker that one. He spoke of faith and a God who could accomplish all manner of miracles. Yet, he was just as quick to ask for money from those who came to him. He spoke of the expenses of his ministry, the expenses of bringing a healing ministry to the world. He spoke with such confidence that Adrian would experience a tremendous miracle. But it hadn’t happened. More than anyone, he had been a deliverer of false hope.

Julien had resigned his cabinet post in the European Union months ago just to be here with his son in what would likely be his last months on Earth. To many it hadn’t made sense. Julien had one of the most brilliant minds in Europe
when it came to things economic. As financial advisor to the French president, his financial strategy had pulled the country out of the global depression. As financial minister of the European Union, it was hoped that he might help the rest of the continent do the same. Surely there were others who could help take care of his son. But no, this was not a job for someone else; this was his responsibility. If the EU needed him, the EU would have to wait. Right now, he had more important things to attend to.

For the moment, he would remain here at his home just west of Marseille with his son and housekeeper, Joan, whose love for his son was second only to his own. Yes, they would see this thing to the end.

As the twilight faded, Julien and Joan got Adrien ready for night. It was the better part of an hour later before the task was complete. His IV bag was changed and Julian and Joan had eaten a simple meal. Then Joan sat down to read to Adrian as she did every night. She wasn’t sure that Adrien heard her, but she read to him nonetheless. Hers would be the first watch. Julien would take over at 1:00
A.M
. and see his son through to the morning. He went to his bedroom at the end of the hall.

It was late when Julien awoke on the sand. He looked about in surprise to see the ocean waves lapping up just a few feet in front of him, illuminated by the nearly full moon overhead. He was out on the beach. He must have been sleepwalking, gotten out of the house, across the road, down the trail leading to the beach, and then gone to sleep once more.

He rose to his feet to discover that he had somehow managed to put on his business suit. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. He’d never had a problem with sleepwalking.

“Good evening, Mr. Julien Devereux,” said a voice from behind.

Julien turned to see a middle-aged man, also in a dark business suit, standing some ten feet behind him. He was smiling broadly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You know my name?” asked Julien. “Sir, have we met before?”

“No,” replied the man, “I don’t think so. However, I know you nevertheless. You are a well-known man, Mr. Devereux, a very good and noble man.”

“Then you recognize me from the papers, from television,” deduced Julien.

“Yes,” said the man. “All of France owes you a great debt. But that is not why I’m here. I have a different matter, a more personal matter, to discuss with you.”

Personal matters? The thought suddenly hit Julien. “Oh my heavens, I was supposed to relieve my housekeeper in watching my son. I was supposed to relieve her at 1:00
A.M.”

“Relax Mr. Devereux,” said the stranger. “It is not even midnight yet. What I have to tell you is more important.”

“Nothing is more important than Adrien,” objected Julien. “He is my whole life.”

The stranger smiled all the more. “Of course, Mr. Devereux, I quite understand. In very fact, it is that very thing that I wanted to discuss with you. You have searched far and wide for a cure for your son, but you have not found it. But there is a cure for your son, Mr. Devereux. You just haven’t been looking in the right place.”