A Pale Horse by Wendy Alec
“The harbor.”
The Chinook took off into the skyline over Chinatown.
“Code amber,” Chessler instructed through his earpiece.
A moment later, the entire base exploded in a blistering orange fireball.
* * *
The First Heaven
Nick followed Jether down a golden path through a beautiful, exotic-looking forest. Finally, they stood at a gate. The house was Palladian, its every detail intricately carved.
The vast expanse of brilliant green lawn led straight onto a beach of pearl white sands, beyond which a sea of the same pale blue as the Caribbean gently lapped.
A figure was standing at an easel on the pale sands, painting.
It was a young woman, her long curly hair blowing in the soft sea winds. Her face was alive with joy and wonder.
“Jether!” she cried in delight. She held a rose in one hand.
“He has been with you.”
She nodded. “Oh, that I had known Him better when I was on earth. I fell so short.”
“But now you have all eternity to know Him and serve Him,” said Jether softly. “Lilian, you have a visitor.”
Nick stepped forward as Lilian stepped back. Her eyes welled with tears.
She ran to him, then ran her fingers over his face. “Nicholas,” she whispered, “you look so different.”
Nick grinned. “So do you, Mom. You look amazing!”
Jether looked at Nick. He still looked his earthly age of twenty-nine, but all hardness and worldliness had been erased from his face.
His features glowed with a peace that he had never attained on earth.
“You are beautiful, Nick,” Lilian whispered. “He has made you beautiful. You have been with Him?”
She put Nick’s hand to her face.
“I failed you, Nicholas. I should have taught you about Him. Prepared you when you were young, to live for Him.”
“But He found me anyway, Mom, so all is well.” Nick kissed her tenderly on both cheeks.
“Nicholas.” A soft but low voice came from behind him.
Nick turned.
“Dad!” He drew an astonished breath. The last time he had seen his father, they both had said things that each regretted but never had the chance to take back.
“I’m so sorry, Dad, about the things I said to you. I didn’t mean them. But I never had a chance to say sorry before you died.” Nick hesitated.
“But I don’t understand. You didn’t believe—you were an agnostic.”
“And proud of it, much to my regret.” James De Vere looked out over the lapping waves, his eyes distant. “I viewed religion as a crutch for the weak, a set of fables. Lilian always had faith, but I was stubborn. Wouldn’t listen.
“When I arrived at the hospital after my heart attack I was semiconscious. An old man, a priest, came to give me the last rites. As he placed his hand on my head I felt something strange, a power, surge through me.
“I remember the old man’s words. He said to me, ‘Son, you have not much time. Will you commit your life to Christ?’
“I could not speak, but suddenly, with all my being, I knew this was the truth. I managed to nod my head.
“And in a moment . . . ” James De Vere stopped in mid sentence, overcome with emotion. Tears ran down his cheeks. Lilian took his hand, smiling up at him.
“There was a peace, Nicholas. A peace and assurance I had never experienced before at any time in my life. And as the old man prayed for me, I knew I was to ask forgiveness for each and every sin I had committed while on Earth. And I knew I had to forgive all those who had wronged me. And all the while, this simple old priest was staring down at me with such love and such compassion.”
James De Vere wiped his eyes. He looked at Nick.
“And then the old man’s face changed.” James De Vere’s voice choked with emotion.
“It was Him,” he whispered.
Nick grasped James’s hand. “Christ?”
James nodded. “It was Jesus Christ. He stayed with me, next to my bed, watching over me like a mother, until I took my very last breath. It was He who brought me here.”
Lilian placed her arm around James’s waist. “It still overcomes Him,” she whispered.
Nick nodded, unable to speak, tears streaming down his cheeks.
And together, Lilian, James, and Nick stood, embracing, there on the sands of the First Heaven.
Jether bowed his head. “Oh, the joy of heaven,” he whispered.
And vanished.
Leaving them. Together. Weeping on the white sands.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Internment Camp, Chelsea Pier, New York City
The Chinook was descending fast. Jason stared out in disbelief—it was landing at the Chelsea Pier on Manhattan’s West Side.
“Quite appropriate, I thought, Jason,” Xavier Chessler purred. “The TV series Law and Order was shot in Pier Fifty-nine. VOX bought the studios in 2022—two of your more recent acquisitions. You should feel quite at home.”
The helicopter came to a halt. Two soldiers opened the doors and shoved Jason out onto the tarmac, then shoved Julia out after him.
Jason stared stonily ahead. “What are you going to do, Chessler? Kill us?”
“Oh, no, dear boy.” Chessler stood at the top of the Chinook’s steps. He lit a cigarillo and drew on it. “How distasteful! What do you take me for? If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have cut your throats in the general’s base. No, no, after your timely escape from Babylon, I’ve been dreaming up far more exhilarating plans for you both. After we’ve reprogrammed your DNA, you’ll both be our finest spokespersons.”
“That’ll be a cold day in hell,” Jason said through gritted teeth.
Chessler’s warlock’s brand started to burn.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. But that’s quite a while off. Let’s live for the moment, shall we?”
He turned to the soldiers. “Take them to Subzero. Don’t give them the Mark until I join you. I shall take great pleasure in viewing it firsthand.” He drew hard on his cigarillo and gave a thin smile.
“It’s reminiscent of Nero and the Colosseum, when the Christians were being fed to the lions. Of course, I’m fully aware you’re not a Christian, but I definitely want a front seat.”
“And you’re Nero, I presume.” Jason glared at Chessler.
* * *
Jason screamed noiselessly as the soldier’s steel-toed boot slammed into his groin.
He retched onto the cold, hard concrete, then looked up through bloodshot eyes to see the soldier grasp Julia by the hair and place his mouth on hers. Her long acrylic nails raked down the side of his neck. The soldier flinched in pain as blood ran from the deep scratches. He backhanded Julia savagely across the face. Blood gushed from her nose and mouth as she hit the floor.
“Waterboarding’s nothing to what we’ve got prepared for you both in here.”
A light switched on behind a glass screen, and Xavier Chessler’s face became visible.
“Later,” he said to the soldier. “There’ll be plenty of time for recreation later.
“But first, the Mark.”
A third soldier set two wooden chairs in front of the steel table and threw Jason brutally onto one. Julia clasped the leg of the chair and slowly raised herself up.
A tall man entered, wearing a stethoscope around his neck. He listened to Jason’s heart, then Julia’s, and nodded.
“Pulse,” he said. “Blood pressure.”
A steel tray was wheeled in from the door. Jason stared at the vial filled with blue liquid. The Mark. Adrian’s masterpiece.
If General Magruder’s antidote to the Mark failed, he and Julia were finished. History.
The nurse attached a blood pressure cuff to a monitor, then pushed up Jason’s sleeve. He swabbed down Jason’s forearm and inserted the syringe, then repeated the procedure exactly with Julia.
Chessler smiled slightly. “And now the activator,” he m
The nurse swabbed a small area of skin on Jason’s forehead, then injected the microscopic chip under the skin. He repeated the procedure with Julia.
Xavier Chessler’s eyes were riveted to the monitor. The microchip started to glow red.
“Activation five percent,” the nurse called out.
Chessler watched intently as the red bar graph on the screen in front of him slowly rose.
“Ten percent activated.”
“Twenty-five percent . . . thirty percent.”
Then the red bar on the computer screen reversed.
“Twenty percent deactivating,” the nurse reported. “Ten percent. Program deactivating.”
Chessler sat, his breathing shallow, watching Julia’s monitor readings as they followed Jason’s almost to the letter.
“Program deactivated.”
Chessler nodded. He pressed the microphone button. “Inject a second chip.”
The nurse repeated the process with Jason, then Julia. Chessler watched as the deactivation signs appeared on the screen for a second time.
“Seems the general’s deactivating serum worked, Chessler,” Jason said. “You can’t rewrite our DNA. We’ve been preprogrammed. It’s irreverrsible.”
Xavier Chessler rose slowly to his feet.
“Kill him,” he said softly. “Kill them both.”
He walked toward the door, then turned.
“But make it slow.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
* * *
Jason was chained to the chair. He stared through bloodshot eyes across to Julia, lying half dazed on the concrete. Tears stung his eyes.
She was brave. He’d forgotten how brave Julia St. Cartier was.
“A survivor,” Lawrence had always called her. And he was right.
Jason looked over at her. Her makeup had worn completely off. Her hair was matted and bloody, and her acrylic nails had been pulled off. Blood still seeped from her mouth. She looked so young, much younger than her 45 years. So vulnerable.
And in that moment, he knew. He had never loved her as much as he loved her right now.
The door opened, and two soldiers marched toward Julia and yanked her to her feet.
“Jason,” she whispered.
The first soldier kicked her savagely in her abdomen. She doubled up.
“Jason,” she cried.
The second kick caught her in the spine. She struggled to breathe. The tears mingled with the blood trickling down her cheeks.
She turned her head, in intense pain, toward Jason; then, with a superhuman effort, she spoke. “I’ve always loved you.”
Jason nodded. His eyes welled up with rage and tears. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, for the intensity of emotion welling up within him.
A figure behind him was unchaining him.
He gave Julia a weak, lopsided smile.
The last thing he remembered thinking as someone pushed his face savagely down into the vat of water was that if they ever survived this, he’d give Callum Vickers a bloody-good run for his money.
* * *
First Heaven, East of Eden
Nick and Jether finally reached the Eastern gardens of Eden. Far in the distance were two towering pearlescent gates, guarded by the Seraphim.
Jether took Nicks hand. “I shall await you here.”
“Go . . . Go to your Father.” He kissed Nick on both cheeks.
“Go to Yehovah.”
Nick took a deep breath, steeled himself, then walked toward the entrance to Yehovah’s Hanging Gardens of Eden. The six Seraphim bowed as one to Nick as the enormous pearlescent gates slowly opened.
Nick turned and looked back at Jether for a long while, then walked through into Yehovah’s Gardens. The huge Gates shut behind him.
He took a deep breathand gazed around.
Massive curtains of flickering light shafts, all the hues of the rainbow, shifted across the vast horizons, like some immense swirling celestial aurora.
Nick watched in wonder as the shafts of light transformed from lilac to aquamarine, then to vermilion.
He turned to his left. Hundreds of feet above him was a thundering monumental waterfall that gushed down to a swiftly flowing river lined by ancient willow trees.
On either side of the stream, were lush, tropical celestial gardens where unicorns and oryx grazed in the meadows.
As the luminance lifted, a second gate became visible, and two cherubim, over ten feet in height, clothed with fires and lightning, bowed low before him, their four outstretched wingtips touching each other.
“Nicholas De Vere, beloved servant of Christos our King, they addressed him in unison. The Great Emperor of Heaven awaits you.”
They ushered him through a second much smaller arbour-like pearl gate into the thick, swirling white mists.
He followed the ten foot tall angels, as they walked past knee-high gladioli and frangipani, beds of pale blue flowers that looked almost like tulips except for the long crystal stamens in their centre. Past climbing roses of every hue and imagination. Past intricately carved pearl and crystal benches and arbours. The incredible floral aroma permeated his senses.
Finally, they reached a second gate, different from the previous ones.
It was higher—almost twelve feet high and three feet in breadth, carved of solid gold and embedded with emeralds and diamonds set in a vast jacinth wall that surrounded the entrance to the inner sanctum of Eden. The gate was slightly ajar.
Nick pushed it open.
There, standing in the far corner of the garden, was a tall figure clothed in shining white garments.
Slowly the figure turned.
It was Jesus.
He took Nicks hands in his own, then turned them upward. The aquamarine stone pulsated in Nicks palm.
“You have been chosen, Nicholas. Chosen to visit my Father.”
There was complete adoration on Jesus face as he turned and gazed far in the distance. In front of them, seemingly suspended in midair, were the vast, exquisite Hanging Gardens of Yehovah.
Hardly visible from where Nick stood, rose what seemed to be a thick dark roaring cloud from which emananted blue and white flashing lightnings.
“He awaits you. Go to Him.” Jesus vanished before Nick’s eyes.
Nick stared, utterly transfixed, at the cloud ahead that hung heavily over the hanging gardens. Cobalt blue lightnings erupted from its very centre.
He walked through a second gate, towards two huge trees in the farthest corner of the hanging gardens. the trees were almost wholly enveloped by constantly swirling white mists, their fruit glistening gold and blue in the lightnings. To the north of the trees, Nick could see the dark cloud more clearly.
He placed one foot in front of the other. As he neared the cloud, the thundering grew so loud in intensity, that he could barely hear his own thoughts. Suddenly an immense terror gripped his heart. He turned back to search for Jesus, but the gates behind him were now tightly shut.
Somehow he sensed he had to continue onward towards the terrifying cloud.
As he drew nearer, dragging one foot in front of the other, a strange darkness started to fall like a thick, heavy veil over the gardens. Nick stopped in mid step, closing his eyes in dread. He should never have come. He was not worthy enough to be here. He was not ready.
After what seemed like hours, he took all his courage in his hands and opened his eyes.
Ahead of him, through a gap in the veil of darkness, wound a glittering path. His archeologists curiousity, instinct- ively got the better of him.
Nick bent down and picked up a handful of stones.
“Diamonds,” he murmured in wonder. He looked down at the path, some of the diamonds were as large as a gooses egg. Nick emptied his hand and picked up the large diamond. It felt as light as a feather, its texture, completely different to the diamonds of Earth.
Nick took a few more steps, then frowned. Embedded in the diamond path were rows of large glist
‘Rubies . . . ’ He looked around him. The darkness was shifting from shades of amethyst to a deep thunderous black. Suddenly, he was gripped by a deep terror, a terror that he had never experienced before.
He turned back on the path, the urge to run over- whelming him. He looked down in horror. The path behind him had vanished. Now, behind him was only a mass of black swirling sky.
Trembling visibly, he turned back towards the cloud and looked down.
The shimmering path continued to curve its way deep, deep into the very centre of the darkness to the very epicenter of the lightnings and roarings.
He still fought the overwhelming urge to turn back, but something deep within his soul drew him onward, still onward.
He placed one foot in front of the other in trepidation. He had the distinct feeling he was being observed. There was a movement to his left. Slowly the clouds cleared for a few seconds. Nick gasped.
Towering over him was a monstrous living creature that had six wings. As the clouds cleared, Nick could make out hundreds of living eyes on the creature’s upper and lower wings.
The roaring was coming from the creature. It sounded like many voices harmonizing in unison.
Nick frowned. He could make out the actual words.
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God, the Almighty—the one who always was, who is, and who is still to come.”
Then the clouds descended again and the creature disappeared into the swirling mists.
A tempestuous wind blew. Lightning struck from east to west of the horizon. Nick flung himself, face down, to the ground, petrified.
And then, through the thunder and the roarings, through the lightnings and the veil of darkness, Nick heard a voice.
It was a voice as that of a thousand waters.
It was a voice infinitely more beautiful than either angelic or human imagination had ever the capacity to conceive.
Somehow Nick knew that this was the voice that had thrust a million flaming suns into orbit.
This was the voice that had fashioned ten thousand times ten thousand galaxies and laid the boundaries of the firmaments of a thousand universes.
The voice that allotted the path of a million, million moons and created the lightning, the tempests, and the hail.