The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (56 page)

Adrian stood at attention. “Yes, Mr. President?”

“Very well done, son. Very well done indeed.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll tell Tom you said so.”

Headquarters
First Church of the Divine Judgment

Johnny Barnes smiled as Osiah left. Wright collapsed back into the chair, red-faced but in too much pain to protest as Barnes took his usual perch on the front of the desk. Mancuso joined him and both looked down at the man who had caused so much pain and death.

Johnny looked at the small syringe in his hand as he turned it in the light. The darker flecks in the deep crimson of the fluid gave it a disgusting appearance, and he shuddered at the thought of what it represented. And it had taken all his willpower not to use it.

“You will see that my family is protected now, won’t you? That they will not be harmed?” Wright pleaded as he tried and failed not to stare at the vial.

“As agreed, Reverend, we will insure your family is safe from any reprisal,” Barnes said. “In fact, they’ll probably thank us for rescuing them from you. I know how you treat Sasha and Peter, after all. And little Elizabeth.” His tone became more menacing. “In fact, knowing what I know, I should inject you with this anyway.”

“Please! No! I—”

“What’s the matter, Reverend?” Barnes asked as he waved the syringe toward Wright. “I thought you’d love to become one of the Seraphim, as you call them.”

“Seraphim?” Mancuso grunted.

Barnes looked over at him. “We call them Driebachs.”

“Ah.”

“It would be an—an hon—an honor to be one of the Seraphim,” Wright stuttered. “But I find that I am not quite worthy. I would need years—decades even—to prepare. And I confess to some curiosity as to where you procured that.”

“So much for your martyrdom, then, ‘believer,’” Barnes said with a snort. “Why, from your own facilities, of course! Your people were just about to start turning them out by the handful. Or didn’t you know? I put an end to it, of course.” Barnes shook his head as he dropped the vial into the garbage can. “Can’t have you folks manufacturing another Z-Day, can we? Still, I kept one sample, just in case.”

Mancuso coughed, and Barnes let him talk.

“Great speech there, Reverend,” Mancuso said. “I could almost see myself following the beliefs of a church like that. Osiah and his people will still have a lot to make up for, though.” He leaned down to put his face in the Reverend’s. “Wanna tell me what that last bit was all about? Who’s Azariah? Should we hunt down the deacon?”

“You shall burn in Hell forever, infidel,” Wright said through gritted teeth. “They will never accept the new teachings.”

Barnes glanced over at Mancuso and grinned. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, old son.”

Wright blanched. “What new trickery have you to surprise me with?”

“Nothing new, technically. But you didn’t think I was the only spy in your ranks, did you?”

“You… You cowards! How dare you spy on the Church! I’ll have you—oof!”

Barnes was tired of listening to the man and kicked him so hard in the chest, the chair fell over backward. He glanced over at Mancuso again. “Think I might’ve cracked a rib with that one.”

“It’s the least he deserves. He’ll get no pity from me.”

Barnes snorted, then picked the chair up and set it straight with Wright still in it.

“What now, infidels? Torture? Death?”

“No and yes,” Barnes said. “Your cult is dead or will be soon enough once your boy Osiah starts spreading the new word of the Church.”

Wright scowled but remained silent.

“And you, well, you’re not going to go easily or quickly, I’m afraid. You’ve caused too much death for that.”

All three men were surprised when the door opened and Wright’s secretary entered. The tall brunette with the most piercing blue eyes Barnes had ever seen walked in already talking.

“I thought we might have a moment to ourselves before your three o’cl—” She stopped, shock evident on her face. Barnes knew the only reason she would walk in without knocking was if she thought the reverend was alone in his office. Barnes knew about their “romance,” of course, and had from the beginning.

Her hesitation was all the time Barnes needed to make it to her. He kicked the door shut with his foot and clamped a large hand over her nose and mouth. Predictably, she screamed and thrashed in his grip as he lifted her off her feet and carried her over to the desk and the empty visitor’s chair.

“Calm down!” Barnes said and squeezed tight enough to make her groan. “Quiet!”

She nodded and went silent, not struggling.

Barnes sighed. “I wish you hadn’t seen this, Jordana. It’s a shame.”

“We can’t leave her here,” Mancuso said, pointing the pistol he’d gotten from Barnes at the side of her head.

“I know that! You’re the one that didn’t bother to lock the fucking door! Give me a minute to think.” He shrugged Mancuso off, then shook his head. “Jordana, I’m going to take my hand away, but if you so much as breathe heavy, he’s going to shoot you. I won’t be able to stop him. Nod if you understand and agree to be quiet.”

Jordana nodded, shaking.

“Good, now sit down,” he said and threw her into the empty chair. She sat without a peep, her eyes closed and muttered prayers falling from her lips.

Barnes rushed over to the door and locked it. He glanced around the room, then noticed the chains that had held Mancuso. He raced over and picked them up, then went back over to their two captives. “Let’s go, you two,” he said, motioning to the closet door.

The captives stood up, and everyone moved over to the door. Mancuso covered the office door with his borrowed pistol, just in case. Barnes opened the closet door and found what he was looking for: a structural beam with some openings almost tailor made to run chains through. He looped the chain through one of the openings, then motioned to Wright.

“Reverend, you first,” Barnes said and clamped one side of the handcuffs from each of the sets to Wright’s wrist and ankle. The man was now tied to the Church in a very real sense, something that made Barnes chuckle.

He turned to Jordana and was reaching for her wrist when someone knocked on the office door.

“Fucking seriously?” Mancuso whispered. “What the fuck is this, Grand Central Station?”

“Go deal with it,” Barnes said as he finished securing the reverend.

Mancuso crept over to the door, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet. There was another knock on the door, then a man’s voice came through, muffled.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but there’s a call, and I can’t find Jordana…”

Mancuso looked back at Barnes, who was holding the secretary by the arm in case she decided to scream. Barnes shook his head and they waited for the man to leave.

Another knock. “Your Grace, if you need me to come back…” Barnes saw Mancuso point to the locked doorknob, and he could hear it rattle from the closet entryway. “Your Grace, is everything okay?”

Mancuso reached down and yanked the door open, then pulled the man inside and shut it once more. Barnes barely had time to realize the man was the other hallway guard before Mancuso had put a bullet in his head.

Jordana took that moment to make her escape. She twisted out of Barnes’s grasp and bolted through the side door of the office. The secretary ran screaming from the room, somehow dodging the shots that came her way from Mancuso. Barnes didn’t understand how she avoided them all, but it didn’t matter. The door led to a short hallway and a few offices… and the elevator bank. Her screams had no doubt alerted the other guards, and now he and Mancuso had been dropped in the shit.

“Sorry, Rev, you’re done,” Barnes said and clamped the other handcuffs on the man, then slammed the closet door shut. He could hear Wright yelling, but that didn’t matter now either.

Mancuso had shut and locked the door, but there was already banging on the other side as he joined Barnes in the center of the room.

“So much for making it look like an inside job,” Mancuso said. “What now, Major? What’s your exfil?”

Barnes ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Is it better than dying?”

Barnes shrugged. “Marginally?”

“Then let’s do it.”

Barnes nodded and grabbed the dead guard’s rifle. “We need to get to the lobby. I’ve got a bomb hidden in the basement, but we need to be almost out before I set it off. There’s a very short timer.” He grinned. “Last resort sort of thing.”

Mancuso snorted and waved toward the door. “After you!”

Splinters of wood from the double doors exploded inward as the guards outside finally got tired of trying to break them down and just shot through them. Bullets whizzed over Barnes’s head as he took cover behind the desk, but he waited to fire until he could see at least a few of the guards coming in. Then he stood and used their hesitation against them.

After all, wasn’t Harper Grey on
their
side?

Four guards, four shots, and they hit the floor. Barnes ran forward and grabbed what equipment he could from the bodies. He tossed a rifle to Mancuso. “Can I trust you, Major?”

Mancuso ignored him and ran out into the hallway. Barnes followed, and they covered each other with textbook military precision. The few guards that came their way were dealt with fast, and they reached the elevators in good order. The general building alarm was going off, and Barnes was confident everyone else had evacuated.

Mancuso glanced at Barnes. “I think we’ll skip the deathtrap today,” he said, with a nod toward the elevators.

“Damn right,” Barnes said. “The stairwell’s this way.” He pointed past the elevators at the red exit sign at the end of the hall.

They burst through the door and ran down the steps, taking them two at a time. They made it down the four flights of stairs without incident and paused at the bottom.

Barnes reached for the exit door and frowned as Mancuso put a hand on his arm.

“Something’s not right,” Mancuso said. “This is too easy. That door doesn’t lead outside, right?”

Barnes stepped back from the door and thought for a moment. “No, it goes to the lobby. There’s another door at the far end of the hall. You’re right, though. Give me a second.” He stood to one side of the door, then pushed it open a crack, slow and steady so as not to attract attention.

It didn’t work.

A fusillade of bullets struck the door, and a couple punched through and ricocheted through the stairwell. Mancuso grunted, and Barnes looked over at him.

The soldier grimaced and held a hand to his lower side, where Barnes could already see a dark stain spreading. “This blows,” Mancuso said and took a couple deep breaths. “At least we got the asshole.”

Barnes rushed over, but there wasn’t much he could do without some emergency equipment, and they both knew it. They stood with their backs to the wall, and Barnes knew the other man was trying to think of a way out as much as he was.

“I knew this was a one-way trip, Major,” Mancuso said. “The things I’ve done, the spying, all of it. This is my penance. I was a believer once, you know. Not in the Church, but in the word of God.”

Barnes glanced down and saw the man’s pants leg was almost all red with blood. Mancuso didn’t have long. “What’s your first name, Major?”

“Brian.”

“Got any family, Brian? Anyone you need me to pass word on to?”

Mancuso shook his head. “Family’s all dead. Got no one. You got a way out?”

Barnes nodded. “I might, but I can’t do it with you like this.”

“Nah, I’m not going anywhere. We both know it. I can cover you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Like I said, one way. Just…” He gasped and his eyes widened. “Wow. Just make it out. And set off that fucking bomb. Tell them I was a good person at the end.”

“Roger that. It’s been a pleasure, Major.”

“Likewise, Major.” Mancuso kicked away from the wall and staggered toward the door. “Come get some, bitches!” he yelled, then ran out into the corridor.

Barnes didn’t wait to see Mancuso’s last stand. As soon as the brave soldier had drawn the other’s fire, he booked it for the other end of the hall and freedom. He paused just once and looked back as he pressed the trigger on the mechanism he carried in his pocket everywhere he went.

Mancuso was going out in a proverbial blaze of glory. And in a locked cabinet in the basement, a timer was now counting down to the end of the First Church of the Divine Judgment.

Johnny stopped looking back and raced out of the building. It was finally time to go home.

Archbishop Reverend Wright fought against the steel that chained him to the building that had been his headquarters for nearly twenty years. He pulled and strained until his arms felt like they were coming out of their sockets. Until the blood flowed freely down his arms from the scrapes and cuts and tears given him by the handcuffs he’d been forced into.

After a time, he stopped pulling and straining and began to pray. He prayed for forgiveness, for the souls of the damned, and for all those who had followed him for so long. He prayed that his just and righteous God would save him from this imprisonment and that he would be given the chance to yet again bring the truth to the unbelievers.

It was the flickering lights that snapped open his closed eyes, followed by the utter surprise when they went out completely. The fluorescent tubes crackled with static electricity, and he could see it arcing back and forth along them.

The building began to rumble, and he wondered if they had earthquakes in Pennsylvania. As it worsened, he realized it wasn’t an earthquake at all. A moment later, he and the rest of his office disappeared, vaporized in an instant in a fireball that lit up the sky for miles around.

People would talk about the end of the First Church of the Divine Judgment for years afterward. How a wrathful God had sent lightning to purge them of their unclean reliance on technology and destroyed them for their blasphemy.

That God had had enough of war and killing and zombies and death and had decided to put an end to it once and for all. People would talk for years, and the stories and legends would grow. In the end, what people in Pennsylvania would remember about the Church is that once, a long time ago, a crazy man had created pain and fear in the name of their God, and they were glad that man was gone.