God.
At eight o’clock, Richard and John entered Jarad’s room. The patient followed their movements from his bed. “How are you feeling?” John asked. They sat on the chairs near his bed, while Jarad sat upright so he could have his breakfast. He sipped his orange juice, ignoring them.
John and Richard looked at each other across the bed. Jarad cut into his sausages ferociously, put a rather large bite into his mouth and greedily chewed on it.
John and Richard said nothing for the next two minutes, while Jarad continued to stuff himself. The silence was extremely uncomfortable.
“Can’t you see that I’m busy?” Jarad said. He finished his breakfast and gulped down his juice.
“We wanted to see how you were,” said John.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks,” Jarad said, his voice muffled by the napkin he used to wipe the crumbs from his mustache.
“We have a proposal for you, my old friend,” said John.
At the mention of “friend,” Jarad burst out laughing. “Friend! What the hell is that?”
“Now you’re just being unreasonable. Remember, you started this.” Jarad was about to speak, but John raised his palm. “I’m not saying I am better than you Jarad. You and I are the same. The only difference is...” he gave a wicked smile, “I succeeded where you failed. And the reason for that is because I have good intentions.”
“Whatever problems there are you know I would have overcome them.”
“And you still can,” said Richard, preparing some coffee for all three of them.
“What?” asked Jarad, confused and keen to know more.
“That’s right; but under one condition.”
“You know it’s inevitable, Jarad,” John said, sipping his coffee. “This war was always going to happen, whether there was a prophecy or not.”
“Oh, I get it!” Jarad said sourly. “You want me to lead the battalions.”
John nodded.
“I’m retired, you know that,” Jarad said.
“Look, I’m offering you life or death; choose life for your own sake. Please.”
“Please?” Jarad raised one eyebrow in feigned astonishment.
Richard said, “Jarad, we are literally offering you life. If you join us in this war, things will be different for you and for the others.”
“In fact,” said John, “with my help, you may still have enough credibility to be part of the executive branch.”
“I’ve seen the news, John. You’ve become a bloody dictator and you expect me to join you? As what? An assistant, a butler?”
John laughed, “I never intended that for you. I have a better, much more challenging post available.”
“And what would that be?”
“You will be resuming your duty as a General, and you will also be part of the Supreme War Council. Even if you were plotting against me, you’d at least be helping all of humanity along the way.”
Jarad remained silent for a while. He breathed in deeply, sighed and gave a small nod. His face showed that he was mulling over what John had just said. “Give me time to think it through and I’ll let you know.”
“Great,” John said. “I will see you next week in the War Room.”
“Do we even have one?” Richard asked.
“We will.”
In Alex’s holding cell, they stripped him bare so that they could have a full view of what was going on with his body. It had turned pale-green.
“What’s the situation?” asked Erik.
Joqetu replied, “You can see for yourself...sir. If he doesn’t come around soon, the body will decompose and there will be little hope for him.”
“Well, no matter,” said Erik. “The book should be arriving shortly.”
“You have it then? We will be using the technique?” asked Liam.
“Yes,” Daniel said, “All of us.” The Rebels looked at Erik and Daniel suspiciously. Nikolas knew why he had said that. When they would be connecting their energies together, they would also be connecting their minds, which meant that the truth could be exposed. This was unless they protected their thoughts. By looking at each other they understood what had to be done in order to maintain their true allegiance. This would require more power than ever, but they were up for it. They had to be.
“Until then, we will have to make sure it doesn’t happen,” said Liam.
“How?” asked Erik.
“There is a way,” said Dante, “We must give him some energy, in order to slow down the decaying process.”
“Won’t that just quicken it?” Joqetu asked.
“Depends on the type of energy you give him,” said Nikolas.
“Yes,” said Yagnik, “If we give him the kind that regenerates, we can at least restore his body.”
“Exactly,” said Nikolas, turning to face the other Rebels, “Prepare yourselves.” In quick succession, light emanated from their bodies turning them transparent. The light shone so bright that it bathed the entire room and hallway. The Rebels encircled Alex’s body and raised their arms. Energy entered through their hands, and everything became silent as though they were all struck deaf. Erik said something, but no sound came out of his mouth.
They lowered their arms, cupped their hands and then with palms touching Alex’s chest, forehead, navel, and legs, they released the energy into him. The lights traveled to different parts of his body. They soaked his spine and bloodstream, glowing through his skin and then slowly fading away. As they did, a great change could be seen over his body. Color entered his cheeks and lips and the green hue left his body.
“Well, that was great!” said Daniel, “Truly marvelous. You Rebels must teach us how to do these things.”
“And in time, we will,” said Nikolas. “All these things were hidden from Aidan by his father, but soon enough the truth will be out.”
Mikhail and Sirach entered the room. Sirach held a weighty book in his hand.
“Any trouble?” asked Erik.
“No, not at all, sir,” Sirach said, and added, “although,” he passed the tome to Erik, “They did ask me why you wanted this particular volume.”
“But there was no mention of the Council?”
“Not at all,” Mikhail said.
“Good.” Erik took the book in his hands. It was bound in very old leather and in ancient letters the title read Incantations of the Dead. It was closed with two buckles on the top and bottom right corners. Erik opened it and the dust rose up from it, causing him to cough and brush it off. “Let us begin,” he said, gravely. They encircled the body once again and joined hands. Erik remained outside the circle, to give them instructions. All, including Daniel, Mikhail and Sirach joined in the process. All Nikolas could do now was hope for the best.
The Throne Room was simple yet elegant. The light disorientated Alex. Alex could not make out what he looked like but he saw his figure. He wore white robes and in one hand had a book, and in the palm of his other hand seven lights flickered. The light of his face dimmed so Alex could make out his features. He was not old, but immortal and wise. His long thick beard glowed white, as did the hair on his head that flowed down his back. “My son,” He said.
Alex prostrated himself in front of him. “Father,” he said.
To Alex, God was exactly as he had seen him represented in Michelangelo’s paintings. God laughed. “Oh, you really think I look like this?”
“I don’t know. What do you look like, really?”
“Whatever you want me to look like,” God answered, smiling benignly.
Alex was confused.
“Because of your Catholic upbringing, you picture me and heaven this way. But you have studied other religions.”
“So, you’re saying you’re not like this at all?”