The Christ Clone Trilogy 03 - Acts Of God
By
James Beau Seigneur
The Demonstration
4:03 a.m., Friday, August 28, 4 N.A. — Farnborough,
England
"Everybody up!!"
lan Wilder shielded his eyes from the bright barracks light and quickly got out
of bed so as to not risk the wrath of the guards.
"Up!" the guard shouted again, as he stomped toward one of the bunks whose
occupant was known to be a very sound sleeper.
lan was already half dressed.
The guard stood beside the bunk of the sleeping man and smiled sadistically down
at him. Then grabbing the edge of the bed, he threw it over, toppling both upper
and lower bunks and the man to the floor. Having witnessed this event several
times before, the woman from the upper bunk had moved well out of the way as
soon as the guard approached.
It was still dark outside without even a hint of dawn. lan could only guess at
the time. No one in the barracks had a watch. Every bit of their personal
property had been confiscated when they were arrested. All that most of them had
was one change of clothes and the four books on the New Age. Their only currency
was the sexual favors they might do for the guards, for which they would be
given some extra portion of food or a piece of soap or some bit of information
and rumor from the outside. Perhaps they were finally leaving, lan thought. The
guard quickly confirmed his assumption. "Everybody get your stuff," he said as
he headed for the door. "The trucks will be here to take you home in fifteen
minutes."
A cheer went up from the whole barracks and people started shaking each others'
hands and slapping each other on the back. lan Wilder slipped through the
celebratory crowd and made his way to the latrine.
With only one brief stop for gas, the truck had been on the road for six hours,
including passing through the Chunnel beneath the English Channel. None of the
more than 100 men and women crammed into the back of the truck had any idea
where they were or where they were going but it was obvious that they were not,
as the guard had told them, 'going home.' The truck had no windows and air was
circulated through a beveled system that let in no light. The only illumination
came from two fixtures in the ceiling. A third light had gone out when they hit
a bump shortly after leaving the camp. The only facilities were crude toilets
placed at each end of the truck over small holes in the floor from which the
waste fell and through which came their only view of the outside. They had had
no breakfast before they left and all were growing very hungry. Despite his
hunger and the crowded conditions, lan felt himself drifting off to sleep. When
he awoke he had no idea whether he had been asleep for only minutes or hours.
Apparently they had reached their destination, for the truck had stopped and
from his position near the door he could hear voices outside and the sound of
the door being unlatched.
"Everyone out!" a very masculine woman's voice called in a French accent.
lan was one of the first off the truck. He looked around as he got out but was
unable to determine their location. Something about the place looked or perhaps
felt like the region around Dijon and Mulhouse near the French border with
Switzerland and Germany, though he could not have said why he thought so.
Wherever they were, they were definitely on another military facility, though
this one was far more modern than the one they had left in England.
lan and the others were herded around to the front of the truck and told to make
two lines. As the fresh outside air replaced the stuffy air from the truck in
his lungs, the pungent smell of human sweat and unbathed bodies was replaced by
the delightful aroma of food cooking. Directly in front of him was a building
from which the flavorful smells came. It was, he hoped, their goal — a mess
hall.
Being one of the first in line, lan was able to load his plate high and he
eagerly ate everything. Quiet conversation was permitted but other than
questions and guesses about where they were and where they were going, no one
seemed to have much to say. This was not unusual. Over the past several weeks in
the barracks no one had talked much. A few had spoken of their hatred for those
who had betrayed them — friends, neighbors, relatives. But no one spoke of what
they had seen — the horror of the executions — though the high incidence of
insomnia and the frequent screams in the night suggested they had all been
witness to similar events. And no one had ever talked about the ones that they
had left behind — husbands, wives, children — when at the last moment, they like
lan, had accepted the communion rather that accompany their loved ones in death.
As lan drank down the last of a glass of milk he felt a firm tap on his
shoulder. Looking around, a guard motioned toward the building's back door, and
then moved on, repeating the silent procedure as others finished their meals.
lan followed the guard's direction and was taken outside to a fenced yard and
allowed to walk around until about twenty others joined him. The guards then led
the group through a gate and around to the front of the building where the truck
still sat. They did not stop at the truck, however, but continued down the road
and toward a cluster of buildings about a quarter-mile away.
Continuing past the buildings, they came to a parade ground on which perhaps two
or three thousand French troops stood silently in formation. At first lan could
see only their backs because they were all facing the center of the grounds.
Considering all that he had been through, lan knew that any fate was possible
here. He was relieved, therefore, to see that the soldiers appeared to be
unarmed and that there were no guillotines in sight. Even so, the situation did
not appear hopeful.
In the center of the parade ground stood a reviewing stand to which the
soldiers' attention seemed directed, and toward which lan and the others were
being taken. lan's heart sank as he realized what was happening. He did not know
the specifics, but there was little doubt that they had been brought here to
serve as some sort of spectacle. He wanted to run but there was nowhere to go.
They were led onto the reviewing stand and directed toward a row of chairs. This
seemed a rather congenial offer and lan again wondered if his fear had been
unfounded. After all, they had been provided with a good meal — the best he had
had in months — and he was now certain the troops were not armed.
Suddenly there was a commotion to lan's far left. "Viva la France.I" someone
shouted. It was one of lan's companions. "Viva la Nouveau Epoque! Viva la
Christopher•/" the man added. Apparently he had the same fears as lan and hoped
his display might ingratiate him to his captors. The idea must have seemed like
a good one to some of the others because presently half a dozen stood and
repeated the chant. Others joined in. Not wanting to be left out, lan was about
to do the same but as he scanned the faces of the soldiers he saw no sign that
the display was having the desired effect. There were a number of smiles, but
they were not smiles of comraderie, but rather of disdain and amusement. lan
held his seat.
Failing to arouse a positive response, one by one the others ceased their
refrain and quickly took their seats as well, hoping that their indiscreet
behavior might be overlooked. Within seconds only the first man remained
standing. Being the first and therefore the most conspicuous, he was committed
to the attempt; and hoping that some variation of his chant might yet evoke the
desired effect, he briefly tried several variations. Still floundering, his
voice seemed to fail as he stood there dripping with nervous perspiration. lan
did not look at him, nor did any of the others. No one wanted to be associated
with him. The intense anxiety of the man's situation found its way to his
stomach and he was gripped by uncontrollable nausea and began vomiting his lunch
onto the stage. The scene had apparently amused the guards who had let it go
this far, but now one grabbed the man's hair and jerked him back into his seat.
A moment later a car arrived and someone called the soldiers to attention as a
much-decorated United Nations General with French insignia got out of the car
and approached the reviewing stand. He was followed by a military aide and two
other men in civilian clothes. Coming up the steps, the General went directly to
the lectern to address the troops. The older of the two men in civilian clothes
turned and faced lan and the others and announced that he would be their
translator.
The General gave a command which the translator did not relay but which
obviously was calling the soldiers to 'at-ease.' He then began in earnest.
"As you are no doubt aware," the translator relayed, "over the next four weeks
most of you will be deployed to the Middle East for what we believe will be a
relatively short, but strategically critical mission. I am certain that all of
you will perform in a manner that will bring honor to this battalion and to
France. As you know, each of you has recently acquired certain abilities which
Secretary-General Goodman has said will be vital to the coming conflict."
lan and his companions had been weeks without communication from the outside and
so were unaware of the three signs. Nor had they received the benefit of the
signs themselves except that most had not gotten the sores since receiving the
mark, and of those who had, the lesions were only minor. As a result they did
not understand the nature of the recently acquired abilities to which the
General referred.
"It is no secret that our strategy will be to bring down the walls of Petra upon
our enemies. We anticipate, however, that some will escape the destruction. Mr.
Warren Sardon," the General continued as he motioned toward the younger man in
civilian clothes, "who has just arrived from U.N. headquarters in Babylon, has
come to demonstrate how your new abilities can be used when dealing with the KDT
in a one-on-one situation. I have not seen this myself," the General added, "so
I'm looking forward to this as much as the rest of you." The General stepped
away from the lectern and Sardon approached.
"Thank you, General Sonnier," Sardon said. "I'm sure you won't be disappointed."
Then turning to the troops, he began. "With the help of the volunteers behind
me," he said, obviously referring to lan and the others. "We will. .."
Sardon continued speaking but lan did not hear him. His words no longer
mattered. There was now no doubt: lan knew he was about to die.
The man stopped speaking and signaled to the guards to bring forward one of
lan's companions. "Now, like the rest of you," Sardon continued, addressing the
soldiers, "I'd much rather do this to one of the KDT, but since we don't have
any KDT available," he joked, "these men and women have agreed to help us with
our demonstration. For those who may feel uneasy with this, let me note that all
of these volunteers were
until recently in collaboration with the fundamentalists. While they did accept
the communion and the mark rather than face execution, we and they have
concluded that for their own betterment, they should be freed of the negative
memories of this lifetime and be allowed to convey into their next incarnation
with a clean slate."
The guards went directly to the man who had vomited. "No! No!" he cried, as they
pulled him to the front.
"It appears our first volunteer is having second thoughts," Sardon said with a
smile. The man was dragged weeping to a point about six feet to Sardon's left on
the stage. To silence him, one of the guards finally held a gun to his head.
"Can everyone see okay?" Sardon asked. When he was satisfied all could see, he
continued. "In the technique I'm about to demonstrate I'm going to use both
telekinetic power and, to aid in concentration, I will use my hand in a
corresponding physical action. While it is not necessary to use the physical
aid, it is recommended, at least at first." With this, Sardon stepped away from
the lectern, turned and faced the still whimpering 'volunteer,' and extended his
right hand slightly. Concentrating as he visualized the man's heart, he began to
close the fingers of his extended hand and twisted slowly to the right. The
volunteer abruptly ceased both his whimpering and his breathing as his face
convulsed into a grotesque expression of pain. He would have collapsed
altogether, but Sardon now used his telekinetic ability to hold him up so that
no one would miss the demonstration. Sardon squeezed his fingers and continued
the twisting action back and forth, as the man's head was thrown back, his body
went limp, and blood began to pour from his mouth. Finally, when the man was
obviously dead, Sardon released his telekinetic grip and let the body drop onto
the stage.
It was an impressive display and General Sonnier could not help but applaud,
which let the soldiers know it was all right to do likewise. Sardon appreciated
the show of approval. "Now," he said, when the applause died down, "while we'd
like to provide each of you with an opportunity to try this yourselves, we
unfortunately have a limited number of volunteers. What we're going to do then
is select. Let's see . . ." he said, interrupting himself long enough to turn
and count how many 'volunteers' he had,".. . eighteen, nineteen. Just nineteen?"
he asked disappointedly, to no one in particular. "Okay," he continued, turning
back to the troops, "we'll select nineteen of you to come up and try it
yourselves one at a time. I'll stay here to comment and offer direction so that
the rest of you can benefit from watching, even if you can't try it yourself."