Great White Throne Page 3

  “No—I mean, I guess so.”

  “You look tired, Master Goldsmith.” Bruce gave me his knowing look. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “He’s had a long day,” Don said. “Why don’t you get some rest, Eli? I’ll send for you once the baby is born.”

  “Okay.” I was his prisoner, but at least I’d get a moment away from him.

  He walked out and didn’t look back.

  After I was sure he was gone, I stepped warily into the room. Two familiar chairs were by a window. Before, they’d been in the parlor in New York. I’d sat in one of them for a week, mourning my father’s death. It seemed like an appropriate place to sit again.

  I sat down and gazed outside over rocky hills. I preferred the view over Central Park. I closed my eyes, trying to collect myself. I wanted more than anything to be with Naomi.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” Bruce said. “Are you hungry, thirsty?”

  I opened my eyes and shook my head. “This is all hard to believe.”

  “I agree, Master Goldsmith. Mr. Cristo’s generosity knows no bounds.”

  “Generosity?”

  Bruce glanced down at the chair beside mine. “May I?”

  “Yes, please, of course.”

  He sat and folded his hands elegantly in his lap. His warm brown eyes showed great energy despite his age. “The last I heard from you,” he began, “you were in Geneva. I watched the events there. I voted for Mr. Cristo, of course.”

  “I was there.”

  “At the United Nations’ headquarters?”

  I nodded.

  “What an honor! But—” His brow lowered. “Those radical Muslims ruined it. Thank goodness for Mr. Cristo’s drones defending the city. Otherwise who knows how many people might have died from their attack. The news says the Mahdi is still alive.”

  “I know.”

  He studied me curiously. “How did you get out of Geneva? Why didn’t you come home? It has been so very empty.”

  “I’d rather not talk about it. Not here.”

  Bruce bowed his head. “Of course. My apologies, Master Goldsmith. Would you like me to go now?”

  “No, it’s fine … you were going to tell me why Mr. Cristo has been generous.”

  “Yes, yes. He visited New York yesterday. You can imagine my surprise when he arrived at our door. He told me you were going to be staying with him for a time. He said you were going to carry on your father’s work.”

  “And what work is that?”

  “Mr. Cristo didn’t explain. But surely it relates to the UN’s financing. This war is going to cost the world dearly.”

  “War?”

  “I see you have been disconnected.” An odd eagerness flickered in Bruce’s eyes. “After the Mahdi led the attack in Geneva, Mr. Cristo invited the people to vote again. I was in Babylon at the time, but he reached me there. It was an easy choice. The Mahdi and his people must be eliminated if Mr. Cristo’s vision is to succeed. His drones will first—”

  “Wait. You were in Babylon?”

  “Of course, Master Goldsmith. Why wouldn’t I be? There has been very little to do with you gone. It is such a beautiful place. I’ve never felt so … carefree.”

  “But you’re not in Babylon now.”

  “Obviously.” He smiled. “When Mr. Cristo came and told me you’d be here, I had to help coordinate the move. The androids did the work, of course, and they’ll be serving you here. I just couldn’t miss a chance to see you again. You’re the only family I have left,” he sighed, “unless I’m in Babylon, that is. I guess I wanted to say goodbye.”

  “Don’t go back there, Bruce.”

  He laughed, glancing down at his body. “Why would I stay in this old body when I can have my young, strong body back? No, Mr. Cristo is right, he has created a much better way for us.”

  “It’s all an illusion. A lie.”

  “I’m sorry, Master Goldsmith, but I can’t agree with that. I’ve been there. It’s as true as anything I’ve ever seen. Mr. Cristo will take care of us.”

  “Mr. Cristo is the devil.”

  Bruce lurched to his feet. “You can’t mean that!”

  “I know it.” I rose and met his hard stare. “I’ve seen him for what he really is.”

  “Is this about your visions?” he said accusingly. “Your father warned me about those. Have you been taking your medicine?”

  My fists started shaking. “What did my father say?”

  “He said you were crazy, like your mother.”

  “And you?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “I think your father was a wise man.”

  “Don manipulated him.”

  “And who manipulated you, Eli?”

  I had no answer. He never called me Eli.

  “Your mother?” he asked, his voice wavering like my friend Charles’s had months ago. “The woman whose tumor gave her visions? The diseased seer?”

  I fought against the urge to shove the man. “Get out.”

  “What’s wrong, Eli?” He was smirking as he stepped back. Only then did I notice the thread of darkness snaking up his legs.

  God help him, I prayed. “What happened to you?”

  “I did what I could to help you.”

  The shadow twisting around him pulsed. Listen to me, it whispered, and I replied, No, no, no!

  “Are you okay?” Bruce asked.

  “No!” I shouted. In the name of Jesus Christ, leave him! The shadow froze, as if sensing my unspoken words. The darkness faded and was gone. He suddenly looked older. “Bruce?”

  “This is goodbye.” His voice was sad, more like himself, as he backed away.

  “Wait, don’t go. What happened?”

  He stopped in the doorway. “I let Mr. Cristo’s machines clone me. I let him into my precept.” He shook his head. “I should’ve stayed in Babylon. Mr. Cristo is right. His world is pleasant. This world is pain.” He turned to go. “You’ll learn, Eli. You’ll learn.”

  “Goodbye, Bruce.” But he was already gone.

  AFTER BRUCE LEFT, I paced around every inch of the room. I studied the marble floor, the ornate rugs. No sign of shadow. Whatever had touched Bruce was gone. Everyone was gone. I was alone.

  The things from home were no comfort. It was all too strange. I went back to the mourning chair. I began to pray. I didn’t know how or what to say, but my feelings raged. Fear. Anger. Loss. Why would you allow this? Bruce was a good man. WHY?

  I didn’t hear anything. There was no dream, no vision, no hope. I was trapped. How could I be any use in the devil’s hands? Maybe it was just a matter of time before I’d have evil infecting me like it did Bruce.

  No. I threw the thought away. I prayed harder.

  Minutes passed in silence. Maybe an hour.

  I was feeling desperate and exhausted when Don appeared in the doorway to my room. “The doctor tells me all went well. Ready to visit?”

  I nodded and joined him. As we walked back along the same halls, questions came to me, starting with: “How did you make Bruce into a believer?”

  Don glanced at me, amused. “Wasn’t that difficult.”

  “He never liked technology. Now he’s been to Babylon. He’s always been a loyal caretaker, but not go-to-Babylon-and-fly-to-the-Middle-East loyal.”

  “Everyone has a price,” Don said, as we reached a wide flight of red-carpeted stairs. We began walking up them.

  “So … what was your price?”

  Don paused mid-step and turned to me. “You want to play games?”

  “I want to know what your price was.”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

  “I will when you answer.”

  “I have no price. I never did. I’m my own price and prize and purpose.”

  “You said everyone has a price.”

  “Everyone but me. I was the exception from the start, and I’ll always be. That’s why I rule here.”

  Deeper, I thought, go deeper. “And what
about the baby? Does he have a price?”

  Don stepped closer to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, and it felt like a shock to my system, like a knife severing the light that fed me the questions. But I stood my ground on the stairs. Don looked surprised, as if he’d expected a different reaction. “You’ve changed.”

  I nodded.

  He put his face right into mine. His slitted irises bored into me. “It’s not too late,” he said. “I know my enemy taunts you with salvation. It is a lie. He tries to make great ones like us bow down. Not here, Elijah. This is MY world. And in my world, the weak bow before the great.”

  He released me and continued up the stairs. I followed him, my legs and my mind woozy. We reached a hallway with the sanitized whiteness of a hospital. No doctor, or any other human, was in sight.

  We walked halfway down the hall and entered another door. It was a small, spotless room with a single bed. Naomi was on it. Two androids stood by her side. The robots must have removed every trace of a birth—except the baby.

  Naomi held him to her breast, peering down at him. Their pale skin glowed together, pulsing with life in the bare room. It almost looked natural and normal.

  “Well done,” Don said.

  She looked up with fatigue in her bloodshot eyes. “I won’t let you touch him.” She clutched the boy protectively.

  Don moved closer. “I have no interest in touching him, but I need to see his face.” He waved to me. “Come, Eli, have a look.”

  I went to Naomi’s other side and put my hand on her shoulder assuringly. She met my gaze with a faint smile. I kept my eyes on hers.

  “Hold him out, let me see,” Don motioned.

  Naomi didn’t budge.

  “You want to do this the hard way?”

  Naomi’s face was determined, but tears filled her eyes. “What do you want from him?”

  Don smiled at her. “It’s no mystery. You believe Jesus was the son of God, born in a manger and all that?”

  Naomi nodded. The baby boy was quiet, peaceful in her arms.

  “And you think he saved your soul?”

  “Yes.” She sounded certain.

  Don shook his head. “He damned all of you to a life of groveling, tattered rags. His followers are like beggars tramping around the earth, seeking to rob the great souls of their vitality. Just look at you two. Where would you be right now without me? Still hiding in some dirty cave?”

  “We would be free,” I said.

  Don’s gaze swung slowly to me. “You believe that lie? My enemy wants suffering, obedient slaves. If you want freedom, follow me. You would have power beyond your dreams. Wealth and fame and comfort unknown to any before you.”

  “Man cannot serve two masters,” Naomi said.

  Don bent closer to Naomi and brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead. “You serve only me, and our son. I will give him what the enemy never could—dominion on this earth.”

  “What have you done to my baby?”

  Don stroked her cheek smoothly. “That’s what I need to see.”

  Her resolve crumbled before my eyes. Maybe it was Don’s power, or just exhaustion, but she gently unfurled her arms around the boy. She turned him just enough for Don to see his face.

  Don froze, then staggered back, his mouth clammed shut. He eyed Naomi uncertainly, accusingly. But a moment later his composure was back—all the arrogant anger a man could hold.

  He stormed out of the room without another word.

  I sat beside Naomi on the bed. I put my hand gently on her shoulder. “I’ve never seen Don like that. He must think something went wrong. What was it?”

  She smiled up at me weakly, then motioned to the baby. “Look. He’s perfect.”

  I glanced down at the boy. He had big round eyes like Naomi’s and a head of dark hair. His face twisted as if he were about to cry, but when Naomi held him tight again, he sighed, eyes closing.

  I STOOD IN the burning desert again. The fires raged, warming me, heating me, burning me. I smelled my flesh and my hair searing. I screamed out in pain.

  Look up.

  A light descended from the sky. A white throne, bigger and brighter than the earth. But this time a speck of dark rose up to meet it. The two looked destined to meet overhead, to explode against each other.

  When I woke up, Naomi was peering down at me. I’d fallen asleep on the chair in her room. Her golden hair was like a curtain shielding me from the night and from the world. I wondered if she could protect me from those desert flames.

  She leaned close to my ear. “You were groaning in your sleep. What did you see? Whisper it to me. They won’t hear us.”

  I glanced at the motionless androids along the walls. Maybe she was right. Don could have sensors in the chair, or anywhere else, but he’d already shown he wasn’t in complete control. I pulled her close and spoke softly into her ear, telling her every detail I could.

  “I think it’s about judgment,” she said when I finished. Even in the darkness, concern was plain on her face.

  “What kind of judgment?”

  “The final judgment—when the living and the dead will be judged, each one of them, according to what they’ve done. Was anyone on the throne?”

  “I couldn’t tell. It was too far away. I would’ve burned before it came close enough to see.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The end of times. All those flames—were they like a lake?”

  “It was a desert. Not a trace of water in sight.”

  “But maybe the desert was a dried-up lake? A lake of fire?”

  “I guess that’s possible. Why?”

  “Revelation says that Death and Hades will be thrown into a lake of fire.”

  “Death and Hades?” I didn’t remember that from what I’d read before, on the boat with Ronaldo. “It doesn’t make any sense. Is Don supposed to be all of that? Even the Greek god of the underworld?” I laughed a little at the thought of him in a toga.

  “Shhh,” she whispered.

  “Sorry.” I’d let my voice rise. But it was too late now. The baby began to cry.

  Naomi rose from the chair and shuffled over to the basinet by her bed. She reached down and picked him up. The crying immediately stopped, like a valve turned off, as she carried him back to the bed.

  I turned away as she began to nurse him. “Want me to go?”

  “Not really,” she said, her voice weary, “but maybe it’s best. Get some sleep, then see what you can learn about this place. I won’t be able to do much for a few days.”

  I stood. “There must be some reason why we’re here. I’ll see what I can find, and I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “We’ll miss you.” Her lips curled into a grin. “Come back safe, okay? Pray as you go.”

  “I’ll try.”

  She waved goodbye, then gazed down at the baby. She cradled it with the tender love of a mother, as if he was a normal infant, one with no trace of Don. As I walked out, I wondered if that was possible. Don had implanted the embryo, but then, he hadn’t been the last one to touch her. On Patmos, Jesus had pressed his hand on her forehead. Had he done more than bring her back to life? Had he somehow healed the child?

  I headed to my room under the watchful eyes of androids and shadows. Jesus and Patmos and light seemed so far away. This place was like a continuing nightmare. I slid into bed and sleep.

  Now I was the infant. My Mom had me clutched to her chest. I stared up at her chin, her face. I knew we were soaring over Jerusalem, but I didn’t want to look. Everything would be safe as long as I kept my eyes on Mom.

  She looked down at me. Her face was serious. “It’s time for you to see.”

  She turned my infant body to face out. Dozens of towers reached into the sky like spindly fingers grasping for the heavens. As we flew closer to one of them, I saw it was no ordinary building. Where there should have been
windows, it had capsules stacked along its sides. Thousands, maybe millions, of egg shapes large enough to hold a human body.

  Babylon. But it was empty.

  “Not even the devil knows what he does,” my Mom said.

  I tried to speak. I tried to ask why the eggs were empty. The babble of a baby came out of my lips.

  Still, my Mom nodded, understanding. “The devil tries to bend the laws of nature. They do not bend. Push hard enough against them, and they’ll break.”

  She soared straight down along the tower’s side. I had the same flying sensation that I’d had in ISA training, in that drone in Shanghai almost a year ago. Except this, even in a dream, was no simulation. It was real. Horror hit me as I saw the ground … and the corpses stacked at the tower’s base.

  “Many will jump,” my Mom said. “They will despair without the obscuring lens of technology.”

  Without Babylon. I understood. But how would Don lose control of it? And what was I supposed to do?

  My Mom carried me ahead, along an empty street through the ancient parts of Jerusalem. We landed in the plaza before the Dome of the Rock. Its octagonal shape and round, golden top dominated the temple mount at the heart of the old city.

  A man suddenly stood before us in blazing white, a man with wings. “Does the child have faith?”

  My Mom nodded. “Elijah will believe, he will speak.”

  The angel stepped aside, expressionless, and Mom carried me past him. I had the sense of stepping out of the light and into a cave. The dragon appeared ahead, perched on top of the Dome, watching us approach. It gripped my uncle Jacob in one of its claws, and Aisha in the other. I started to cry, a helpless infant cry.

  My Mom set my body down on the ground before the dragon. She knelt over me and looked into my eyes. “I cannot take you further than this. Save Aisha from the dragon. Tell Jacob I was right—it was the Messiah who caught the roof above his daughter.”

  I tried to nod. I tried to understand.

  “You must fulfill your calling on your own.” She wiped a tear from my baby cheek. Then she turned and left me.

  I tried to watch her go, but my mind was trapped in the helpless infant body. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t avoid seeing the dragon above me.

  The black creature bowed his neck down, revealing Don. He climbed off the dragon’s back and glided to me. He picked me up and dangled me before the dragon’s eyes. The dragon stretched out its jaws. Down its throat was the purest black I’d ever seen. Don tossed me into the vicious mouth, and the dragon swallowed me whole. I slid down into the blackness. But inside, deep in the belly, there was a light. It pressed against me. The light was another child.