The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle (73 page)

He had to hold the earpiece slightly away from his ear
as an excited, high-pitched shriek confirmed. ‘No, don’t make a fuss about it.
It’ll only be for a couple of days. Yes, the business will be fine, don’t worry
about it. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow or so. I love you too. Bye.’

He replaced the receiver, instantly grateful that he
had followed Trevor’s advice to go. Maybe his friend was right. Maybe all he
needed was a few days away from it all. He picked up the phone again, and
dialled a number from one of his business cards.

‘Hello, I would like to book a return ticket to New
Zealand.’

He waited as the woman at the other end of the line
hacked away at her terminal.

‘Yes,’ he confirmed. ‘Single.’

She hacked some more.

‘I would like to fly tonight still, if that would at
all be possible, and come back, say, next week Friday.’

They finalized arrangements, and he hung up after
noting down his reference number. He had enough time for a quick shower, to
pack, to make a few calls and arrange for everything to be taken care of whilst
he was gone.

He liked being at the airport earlier than required.
Just in case. He found airports intimidating; no matter how often he flew.
Andrew switched on the television, more for white noise than anything else, and
caught himself channel hopping.
No time for this
, he thought, but a
familiar face made him freeze on the spot.

‘Arch Bishop Pascale and the European Empire’s
President are set to meet for the first time. The meeting will be held publicly
at the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem tomorrow morning where Arch Bishop Pascale
will make a formal public announcement. No one knows yet what the announcement
will be about, but the country is expectantly preparing for Mr. Yoshe’s
arrival.’

Andrew looked at his finger and rolled his hand into a
fist.
It’s happening
, he thought to himself as a sense of reality and
fear crept down his spine.
It’s actually happening...

- - -*  *  *- -
-

‘You again,’ the older prophet said
as the teenager made his way up the steps to where they were sitting.

‘You can’t...’ Timothy said and stopped to catch his
breath. ‘You can’t get rid of me
that
easily.’

‘That wasn’t our intention,’ the younger prophet
replied.

‘That’s okay,’ Timothy said and smiled. ‘At least you
didn’t toast me.’

‘Harm only comes to those who try to harm us,’ the
bearded man replied. ‘What is it that you seek, young one?’

‘Please,’ Timothy said, ‘the stench in this country is
awful, and people everywhere are losing their minds, becoming very ill; and
some are even dying. I come now, in peace, and ask you to please turn the blood
back to water.’

Both men frowned.

Timothy waited.

The older prophet stroked his beard in deep thought.
Eventually he stared Timothy right in the eyes. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘if that
is what you wish.’

‘It is,’ Timothy said without hesitation.

‘Then it is so,’ the younger prophet said and nodded.

Timothy looked around. The dried blood still stained
everything as far as the eye could see, but where there were fountains, he
could see crystal clear water. Somewhere in the distance, a few cheers could be
heard as relieved citizens of Jerusalem rejoiced and drank as much water as they
were able to physically manage. Timothy opened his backpack, removed a flask
from it, and opened it and again without inspecting the content, gulped down
the water that filled his mouth.

‘Thank you,’ he said finally. ‘Compassion is always a
good trait.’

The older prophet nodded and motioned for Timothy to
sit down with them.

‘Why is it that you listen to me, a mere boy, but
others, religious elders even, you blatantly ignore?’

‘Because you ask with humility,’ the younger prophet
answered, ‘and not from your own selfish needs and desires. Humility is quite a
good trait indeed.’

‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ Timothy
asked.

‘For as long as the Father permits.’ The older prophet
answered. ‘Our quest will be to reunite the hearts of fathers and sons.’

‘Even if your method brings forth hate and death?’

‘We are merely instruments.’

‘For what purpose?’

The elder man held Timothy’s gaze. ‘To shine a light in
a very dark world.’

‘I don’t get it.’

‘When the time is right, you will.’

‘And who were you talking about when you said that
someone was going to turn against me?’

‘Your own will turn against you soon. You must not fear
them, for the Most High will protect you.’

Timothy sighed. ‘My own?’

‘Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the
Earth,’ the older man said. ‘I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I
have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. A man’s enemies will be the members
of his own household.’

‘More of that...Jesus stuff,’ Timothy said cautiously.
‘Didn’t he say something like that?’

The younger prophet nodded.

‘My sister used to sit next to a missionary’s daughter
in class. She learnt that scripture from her, and I overheard it when she used
it on my father.’

‘She was a very wise and brave girl,’ the older prophet
said.

Timothy nodded. He was intrigued by these men. They had
the power of miracles to back their claims, and didn’t seem to
want
to
harm anyone. They just wanted to teach everyone some sort of lesson; a lesson
that he still had to grasp.

He finally looked up at the two men. ‘Tell me more,’ he
said. ‘Teach me about this Jesus.’

- - -*  *  *- -
-

Benny lowered his rifle. The glass
of blood next to him, which served as motivation to pull the trigger, was now
crystal clear water. Strictly speaking, he now had no obligation to dispose of
them—or die, whichever came first—until his contractors would call him with new
reasons, that is.

He used his high-powered binoculars to study the face of
the teenager that was sitting with the men. Should this teen befriend the two
men, he could use him as bait to lure them toward a trap. He flipped open his
blood-stained cell phone and dialled a number.

‘It’s me,’ he said. He listened to the speaker on the
other side. ‘So should I stand down for now?’ The speaker on the other end of
the line confirmed. ‘That’s fine,’ he said, ‘but I still expect payment.’ He
clicked his cell phone shut and started unscrewing the barrel of his rifle. A
few seconds later, there was no trace of him ever being there, except for the
now empty glass.

- - -*  *  *- -
-

The crowd gathering at the Mount of
Olives turned out to be more than expected. Certain barricades were set up
around the stage to prevent people from storming the two men that were to speak
from the podium. No one had an idea about what either wanted to say, but seeing
both Antonio Pascale and Victor Yoshe together live in public is something that
no one was really prepared to miss out on.

People gathered between the numerous white
tablet-shaped tombstones that covered the mount, all the way down to the Tomb
of the Virgin Mary, and still further down the road. Stands for large, flat
screen monitors and giant speakers were erected all over, so that all present
could hear and see the message.

‘Move those people over here,’ a uniformed N-Force
officer shouted to a group of people that didn’t have place to stand, and thus
sat on the graves instead.

A hush fell over the crowd as someone stepped up to the
podium.

‘It’s
him
!’ a woman from within the crowd
shrieked. A few chuckles followed.

‘It’s Arch Bishop Pascale,’ someone else from within
the crowd confirmed.

‘Thank you for the warm welcome and the generous
hospitality,’ Antonio spoke into the microphone. ‘I am extremely honoured to be
here today. We have a lot to cover, so I will be getting right down to the
heart of the matter.’

The people cheered and clapped.

‘Please welcome with me, President Victor Yoshe.’

The crowd went fanatical as Victor made his way up the
platform. He wore an expensive suit, and his smile exposed a set of teeth that
appeared even more expensive than his clothes. The people pressed against each
other for a better view, but N-Force promptly shoved them back into their
respected positions.

Victor walked up to the podium, and shook Antonio’s
hand firmly. It was the first time that they met face-to-face, but it appeared
as if though they had been friends for years. Victor put his arm around
Antonio’s shoulder, and together they waved at the cheering crowd.

The two men basked in their own glory for a few minutes
before Antonio took a seat near the podium. On either side of him sat the other
kings of the Empire, all dressed in their finest attire.

Victor waited for the crowd to settle down before he
addressed them.

‘Friends,’ he said, ‘citizens of a united world. As my
enlightened friend, Arch Bishop Pascale, I too feel much honoured to stand here
today and speak to you.’

The people cheered and clapped again as GMN newspaper
photographers snapped their shots of the man the world loved.

‘As you all know,’ Victor said, ‘all attempts to find
the Pope has been unfruitful.’ He shook his head with a saddened expression,
and some in the crowd mimicked him. ‘We can now only assume the worst.’

More motions of sympathy. Some Roman Catholics
scattered between the Jews made the crucifix sign.

‘As you know, the Vatican used an internal voting
process to expedite the selection of their new leader. It is thus my greatest
honour and privilege to present to you on behalf of the Papacy, your new Pope,
Antonio Pascale. Going forward, he will be addressed as Pope Alexander the
Ninth.’

There was a moment of silence, and then an outburst of
cheering and clapping as Antonio stepped up toward the podium. The two men
embraced, and Victor then took a seat as Antonio took his place behind the
podium.

‘I am honoured,’ Antonio said once the commotion had
settled, ‘to be assigned to this position of highest esteem, and promise to
uphold the moral standards that the Papacy has upheld until now.’

Nods of approval.

‘But I think that all will agree when I say that with
all that have happened lately we can assume that there is no moral foundation
anymore. The world is sick and needs a healer. People are lost and lonely, and
in desperate need of a saviour; a Messiah.’

Nods of agreement.

‘For thousands of years, all people of all races and
all religions believed that a Messiah would one day come to rescue them from
spiritual and moral enslavement. Never would anyone have guessed that they were
all waiting for the same Messiah, the
same
man to rescue them from the
morass into which they were sinking.

‘I therefore would like to have the Jews, Muslims,
Hindus, Christians, and all others that await their coming Messiah, realize
that he has indeed come and has been living amongst us as a normal man.’

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd.

‘Yes, my friends,’ Antonio said and smiled. ‘The same
Messiah that the Jews are waiting for is the one and same Messiah that the
Muslims have been waiting for. It doesn’t matter what you call him. What
matters is that he is here, and he will uplift and save us all.’

‘Who is he?’ someone from within the crowd.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, Jew and Muslim, I present to you
your Messiah: President Victor Yoshe!’

That was the moment that the world stood still. Nothing
made logical sense. There was no time and no direction. No hurt and no joy. For
the briefest moment everything in the universe was quiet, and then, as Victor
approached the podium, a clapping and cheering erupted from the crowd as
everyone excitedly embraced the thought.
He has come at last
, some said.
Others knelt down. But one thing was certain: no one there disagreed.

‘
I am
,’ Victor said and raised his hands.
Everyone in the crowd collapsed instantly under his power, and it took a minute
or so for them to gather the strength to get back up.

‘I have come to lead you, my good people,’ he said. ‘I
have come to bring peace, hope, and a future.’

‘Behold the bread of life,’ Antonio said and pointed
toward Victor. A moment later the people in the crowd gasped as small chunks of
bread fell from the heavens. The people gathered and ate as much as they could
hold on to.
‘Behold your Messiah!
’