Great White Throne (6 page)

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 darker 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?