Great White Throne Page 4

  Naomi’s son. He glowed brighter, then brighter still.

  I wanted to cringe back from its dazzling light, but I couldn’t move. The light strained against the blackness around us. The pressure built and built, making my ear drums throb. Then they popped, exploded. The light shattered the dragon, the dream, and everything else.

  THE NEXT MORNING I had a dream hangover. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on what was real from the day before. It was nearly as strange as my dreams.

  Maybe a shower would help me think straight. I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the ornate bathroom. It was all white marble and steel and glass. I couldn’t see cameras, but I had no doubt they were here. Don wouldn’t leave anything to chance.

  I quickly shed my clothes and stepped into the shower chamber. Robotic arms sprayed water over me, scrubbed me, then washed me clean. I felt like a car rolling through a car wash.

  An android was waiting for me when I stepped out. Its dark glass eyes looked down on me stoically. It held out a black suit and red tie. Like Don’s.

  I grabbed a towel and wrapped it tight around my waist. The thought of a suit Don had picked made me gag. “Something else,” I commanded. “What about the clothes I came in?”

  “The President offers you these,” the android replied.

  “I don’t want them.”

  “I will dress you if needed.” The robot’s voice was hard, its body didn’t budge. I didn’t need any help to imagine it jabbing a needle into my neck and then forcing the clothes onto my unconscious body. Better not to test it.

  “Fine. I’ll do it.” I grabbed the suit. “Now get out.”

  The robot bowed and marched through the door. No emotion. Just constant surveillance, insistence, and power.

  I put on the suit and the tie, but avoided the mirror. I didn’t need it to remind me how much I looked like Don.

  When I stepped out of the room, the android spoke to me. “Naomi has been moved. I will show you the way.”

  “Why was she moved?”

  “Follow me.”

  The android’s four mechanical legs sprang into motion, and I hurried after it. We didn’t go far. Don’s minions had moved her and the baby to a room just down the hall from mine. Her quarters had marble walls and golden fixtures. Four androids were stationed in the corners. Nurses. Or guards. A luxurious prison.

  The bed in the center of the room was immense. The sheets were silky red. Naomi was reclined with the baby cradled in her arms, basking in the sunlight that poured through the tall windows. Her gold-honey locks streamed down on the boy. He looked blissful as she dragged her hair over his face. He could have been the luckiest baby in the world. But I knew better, because I knew who his father was.

  “Good morning.” I sat on the foot of the bed.

  Naomi looked me up and down. “Nice suit, but the tie’s a little much for my taste.”

  “An android left me little choice.” I pulled at the knot and tossed the tie to the floor. “How was the rest of the night?”

  “Long,” she sighed. “Remind me, we’ve been here seven years now?”

  I smiled. “One day, I think.”

  “Right ….”

  “You’re exhausted. How can I help?”

  “The androids are actually taking care of me. But they’re watching everything we do. We’ve got to get out.”

  I nodded. “Haven’t found any exits yet, but I’ll work on it.”

  The baby stirred, letting out a slight whimper.

  “Shhh,” Naomi soothed, motioning for me to come closer. She whispered, “Can you take him to the crib?”

  I moved to her side. She held up the bundle of cloth and baby. I took him gently. It felt surreal.

  As I carried him and set him down in the crib beside Naomi’s bed, I prayed the swaddled child would stay asleep. It was a small prayer, an answered prayer.

  I turned back on tip-toes and joined Naomi. We each laid on our sides, facing each other, our noses inches away. We pulled the sheet over our heads. Her eyes almost made me forget what was going on around us. Almost.

  “I think it’s better when you do that,” she whispered. “He can sense when a machine is holding him.”

  “Maternal androids got nothing on me.”

  Her smile was like a kiss of the sun.

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “I feel like I shouldn’t say it until we’re out of here.”

  “Why? What if that doesn’t happen?”

  “It’s going to happen.”

  “I know we’ll eventually be free, but—” I picked my words carefully. “We don’t know exactly what will happen to your son.”

  “Maybe not, but God will work this for the good. He will defeat Don’s plans. It doesn’t matter how my baby came into this world. He’s mine. He’s innocent.”

  “What about the non-Naomi-half of his chromosomes?” Could Jesus cure the baby of that?

  “Have you seen anything unusual about him?”

  “He’s growing fast, for one thing. You were pregnant only six months. As far as I know, most babies aren’t this big the day after they’re born. It’s like he’s supercharged.”

  “Don enhanced his genes. But his soul is still bright. You saw Don’s reaction when he saw him.”

  “Yeah, surprise. Anger. You think Don will just let this boy stay normal?”

  “This isn’t about what Don wants. God is in control.”

  “So? God has always been in control. And the world has witnessed a million evils. The drone wars. The Holocaust. God’s own people slaughtered women and children to take the Promised Land. That’s some track record.”

  “We will win this battle.” She sounded defiant, as confident as my mother in the dream. “God will answer my prayers. My son will stay clean.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Doubt tinged my voice as I thought of what Don had said about his son and of the baby in the pit of the dragon’s belly. “Maybe if you name him, that will help him have an identity separate from his father.”

  Her face tightened, the way it did when she got angry, righteously angry. “He has a separate identity. Don will not have the final say. We all have a father in God.” She poked at my chest. “Even the fatherless.”

  My mouth opened, but I did not know how to respond.

  She put her hand on my cheek. “That hurt you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … I haven’t slept.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” Her apology helped.

  “It’s hard to think straight.” She breathed out deeply. “You had a good idea.”

  “About the name?”

  She nodded. “But not yet, not here. Besides, that’s not why you showed up here this morning without taming your hair.” Her fingers played in my disheveled curls, untangling knots of tension in my head. “Without you, I would be alone with my baby in the devil’s lair. We’ve got to find a way out. We’ve got to pray for God to be with us, to show us what to do.”

  “I’ll explore the palace. See what I can find.”

  “Good. But stay a little longer?”

  “Of course.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened and slowed. I watched her, loved her, and prayed for some way out.

  THE DAY PASSED with me in and out of fitful sleep. In the late afternoon, I left Naomi and the baby and started exploring. I walked past the door to my room and turned down a new palace hall. It took my breath away. The floor was polished black marble with a single stretch of lush red carpet. The hall was so long that the lines almost converged to a point in the distance. Down the whole stretch, android sentries stood motionless a few feet apart, like medieval suits of armor in a castle.

  I made my way along the hall. The dark colors and robot eyes weighed on me, but not as much as the overwhelming feeling of a presence. I didn’t see demons. I didn’t see angels. But out of the corner of my eye, always just out of sight, there were vapors and mists and clouds of black d
arker than shadow. The black had forms and it moved. Whenever I sensed it reaching for me, like grasping fingers, I’d yank away and snap my head toward it. But then nothing would be there. Not even a shadow. It toyed with me, playing on my vision.

  I forced myself to walk the entire perimeter of the palace, praying with every step, God be with me, show me what to do, be with me, show me…. Down the north hall, then the east, the south, and up again to my quarters in the west—a perfect square. Each hall seemed the same, both in length and color and evil. But something was different about the east hall. The darkness wasn’t as heavy there.

  I’d lingered in that hall. I’d tried opening doors, going up the stairs. Yet every time I veered away from the red carpet, the androids would block my path. They didn’t negotiate. They were unhackable without my precept connected, and even if I could have hacked one, that would have left thousands more to stop me.

  Eventually I gave up and returned to Naomi. She was asleep, so I went back to my room and fell into bed.

  I awoke with a start some hours later. My room was empty, but I still couldn’t shake the sense of being watched. I decided to venture out again. I couldn’t bear to walk the whole square palace. Its darkness was too heavy, too exhausting. The night sky through the palace’s arched windows was more inviting. I needed some fresh air.

  I found a small balcony off the north hallway. The sentries on either side let me pass, probably because the balcony allowed no way out. Two urns holding palm trees framed the view high over the barren landscape. I leaned on the golden railing and gazed up. In the center of the star-filled night, the slightest sickle of the moon sliced a gash in the blackness.

  What now, God?

  I waited in quiet. I heard nothing.

  Are you listening? How can I get Naomi out? Show me.

  I closed my eyes for a long time. I opened them. Still nothing.

  Where are you, Lord? Was that you in my dream—the one with the sun? Will that happen? What now?

  Nothing. Silence. The night sky. Am I talking to myself? The stars teased me, as if those balls of burning gases had any answers. But then one flashed. Or had it? I could have sworn one of the stars had sparked, as if exploding a billion miles away. Now the spot was dark.

  There! Another star blinked brightly and then disappeared. Not like a shooting star. Like a bone-dry leaf blazing for an instant before it burned itself out. I kept my eyes peeled, but it didn’t happen again.

  God, is that you? Was that supposed to mean something? The dreams, the stars—are you trying to warn me?

  No answer. More silence.

  My dreams seemed more real than my prayers. Maybe I was going crazy—locked in Don’s palace with every comfort I could want and every terror I didn’t, unsure of what had happened to Michael and the order, unable to help Naomi, tired and weak.

  I fell to my knees, desperate. God, what do you want from me?

  TRUST. WAIT.

  An answer. Two words. I didn’t hear them aloud, but I knew it wasn’t from me. My mind wouldn’t have come up with those words. The last thing I wanted to do was wait. But if that was the command, I would do it.

  Thank you. I will trust and wait. What else?

  Silence.

  I’d take what I could get. Trust in God. Didn’t I already? Wait. Did I have any other choice? How long did I have to—

  “The crescent moon,” said Don’s voice.

  It made me jump to my feet, and almost out of my skin. He was beside me, from out of nowhere, and his dark eyes fixed on me. It was like he’d heard God’s words and come.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” He gazed out into the night. “Know what it means?”

  “The moon?” I tried to sound composed.

  “Yes.”

  “I guess it means the moon completed another orbit around earth.”

  “Funny.” Don turned to me with his unnerving grin. “It makes no sense that your kind would have humor.”

  “Why?”

  His sudden laugh made me cringe. “How long will you pretend to not know me?”

  “You’re Donatello Cristo, the President of the UN.”

  “A name, a title. An insult for the god of this world. We are being honest, Eli. Would you dare insult me again?”

  “Why do you care what I say?”

  “Because apparently my enemy cares.” He paused and looked back toward the moon. “I asked you a question. What does this crescent moon mean?”

  “It would mean a new month in a lunar calendar.”

  “You’re getting closer. This will be the most important month in the earth’s history.”

  “The last month?”

  “Yes, my final victory.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the balcony’s rail. “Tonight my army attacks. The Muslims have just started their holy month celebration, Ramadan. They think my sights are only on Jerusalem, but I save that jewel for the end. My forces, sharp as this sickle moon, will first slice the legs off Persia. It will fall and burn in days. Then I will finish with Jerusalem, and all will worship me. Trust in me, Eli, or you will die like the rest of my enemies.”

  I was trembling—some foul combination of fear and anger and uncertainty. “Why are you telling me this?”

  He held me with his smile, teeth bared, and for a moment I thought he might swallow me like the dragon. But then he answered, “He is not the only one who cares about souls. You think we are so different—the maker and me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just because he came first?” Don sighed. “A common mistake. The clouds give birth to lightning, but that does not make the lightning anything less. No, the lightning is more, just as I am more. We all crave to be worshiped. He just wants worship in a new place, with only his chosen. I would welcome all.”

  I felt Don’s words wrapping around me, soft and silky lies that bind like steel. My mind came to the question that had led me to God in the first place. “But why?” I asked. “Why does God want that?”

  “It doesn’t matter why. What matters is what you do and what you feel. He would make you a slave to his law. I will make you free.”

  In a virtual test tube. “I’ve been to Babylon,” I said flatly.

  His smile faltered, then his lips turned up again. “I want you on my side, Eli. You know you’re not like other people. You are to them what I am to the angels. And you saw how Michael fared.” He clasped my shoulder, tight. “We can rule this earth together. Don’t give that up for some vague promise of trust and wait.”

  A shudder ran down my spine. He had heard. I stuffed my fear down. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Time is running short. You have one more month.”

  A month stuck here? “If I am free, will you let me leave?” I asked. “Naomi, too?”

  “She must care for my son, and I promised you would stay with her. I know, you grow restless. So do I. If you want to protect Naomi’s life—” he paused, just long enough for me to understand his threat— “then you’ll join me in this battle. I have drones with more power than you’ve ever seen. Syncing to them is like harnessing a hurricane.”

  He said that as if I should be excited about the power, and as if I had a choice. I had to protect Naomi. Maybe I could at least learn something to help us escape. “I’m interested in these drones.”

  He smiled, glorious and inviting. “I will send you information. Take control of your own fate instead of groveling to others. Naomi’s life is in your hands.”

  I nodded, unsure of what to say. Trust. Wait. I looked back at the moon, as if it held any answers. The night suddenly felt very quiet, very dark, and very lonely.

  I turned back to Don, but he was gone.

  DON WAS NOWHERE to be seen in the following days. They passed in a blur of midnight feedings, 4 a.m. cries, and bleary-eyed, shuffling steps from Naomi’s room to mine. I wandered the halls but found no spot unguarded. I began getting used to the constant companionship of androids. My dreams came every night—the same ones, but each a s
lightly different iteration, each full of terror and confusion and hope. Naomi and I had no contact with the outside world. We heard nothing from God. Nothing from the order. Nothing from Don.

  One morning a tablet of information arrived. Its thin glass frame sat on the foot of my bed when I woke up. I’d slept through whatever snuck into my room and delivered it. The thought of some android leaning over me in my sleep made me want to shower.

  I didn’t touch the tablet. Not yet. I went through the robotic showering ritual, put on another black suit—the only clothes available. I went back into the bedroom and hesitated over the tablet. It was in the same place, a flat sheet of circuits. It couldn’t do any harm if I left it alone. But I couldn’t use it that way. Naomi and I weren’t getting anywhere on our own. I picked it up and walked out.

  I passed the two androids waiting by the door. They didn’t follow, they never did. They had a thousand other machine-eyes to watch the palace.

  I went straight to Naomi. We shared our good mornings: as usual, nothing new had happened during the night. More lost sleep. More of the same dreams. The baby was snoozing.

  “Look.” I held up the tablet, glinting in the morning light. “It showed up last night. I bet it’s the drone info.” I’d told her all about the conversation with Don.

  Naomi’s tired eyes fixed on the tablet. She motioned for me to join her on the bed, as we did when we wanted to avoid being overheard. She whispered, “I still don’t like this.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least see the information?”

  She leaned closer, her breath warm on my ear. Her voice was soft but firm. “It will be designed to deceive.”

  “I know,” I replied quietly, “but we can pray for God’s help while we review it.”