Mercury Falls (22 page)

The Apocalypse
, Harry thought as he stood behind the temporary stage that had been assembled on one side of Anaheim Stadium. This was it. His moment of glory. Karl stood next to him, oblivious to what was going to happen in mere moments on that stage.

For that matter, none of the forty thousand Covenant Holders assembled to hear messages of spiritual encouragement had any idea what was about to go down either. Probably they would think Harry was insane, denouncing a schlub like Karl. But such was the fate of prophets.

At present, some black Baptist preacher—the Covenant Holders' nod to racial inclusiveness—was wrapping up a speech about the power of redemption. When he was finished, it was Harry's turn. Harry had planned to speak on the role of religious media in shaping the emerging world, but he had scrapped his notes in light of recent events. Now he planned to open with a retrospective on his life, climaxing with his life's mission: the heralding of the coming Apocalypse and the denunciation of the Antichrist.

Harry noticed in the front row a jittery, angular man who seemed to be immune to the reverend's impassioned pleas. The man looked as if he were waiting for something. Waiting, perhaps, for Harry? That seemed improbable, as Harry was a competent but hardly invigorating speaker. Unless maybe the man knew what Harry was about to do?

Nonsense, thought Harry. He chalked his baseless suspicions up to stage fright and paranoia stemming from his recent unnerving trip to the planeport. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and tried to concentrate on what he was going to say. It was nearly time for him to go on.

"Ready?" he asked Karl.

"I guess," grumbled Karl. "I'd feel better if I had my helmet, though."

"You won't need it," said Harry. "Trust me."

Christine was dismayed to find that the conference was running ahead of schedule. Harry was already on stage by the time they got through the gate.

"What now?" Christine asked.

"Look!" cried Mercury. "That's Izzy, down in the front row. That scheming bastard is just waiting for his chance to pounce."

Harry was winding up to the climax of his speech. He was talking about the Divine Plan and events that he had experienced recently that only confirmed his belief that God intended great things for him. Karl, looking bored and confused, was standing almost out of sight by the side of the stage.

"I can't get near Karl," said Mercury. "At the first sign of coercion, Lucifer will cry foul and put his plan into motion. You have to convince Karl to get out of here. And it has to be of his own free will. You can't touch him or use any kind of coercion."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Christine.

"I," Mercury announced, "am going to go knock Izbazel's teeth out." With that, he began to walk purposefully toward the front row.

Christine moved briskly to the side of the stage. It seemed to take forever, and not just because she was listening to Harry blather on about God's plan for his life. When she finally got there, she flashed her
Banner
credentials to the security personnel and found herself standing backstage next to Karl.

"Hey," said Karl. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Karl," said Christine, still somewhat out of breath. It occurred to her that Karl still thought she was. . .what was it? Secret Service? If she just told him that there was a threat to his life, he'd most likely believe her. She'd be telling the truth, although her credibility was itself based on a lie. Was that considered coercion? Damn the legalistic Seraphim and their petty Accord.

"Harry says you're not really Secret Service," said Karl.

So much for her credibility.

Meanwhile, Harry had segued into an announcement that the End Times had arrived.

Christine said, "You're in danger, Karl. Izzy, that guy we ran away from at Charlie's Grill, he's going to try to kill you again."

Karl snorted. "Harry says you're just jealous. Because he gets to herald the Apoc. . .Apoc. . .the end of the world."

"Jealous!" Christine spat. "Harry's a spineless windbag. Lucifer's just using him for his own ends. And Harry's using you. You realize that as soon as you get on that stage, he's going to denounce you."

Karl stared vacantly at her.

"He's going to. . ." Christine struggled for a synonym for
denounce
. "He's going to say that you're. . .a bad guy."

Karl shrugged.

Harry's voice suddenly became louder. "And so I give you. . .the Antichrist, Karl Grissom!"

Karl bounded eagerly onto the stage. The crowd, uncertain how to react, began to applaud and boo simultaneously. Eventually both died out, leaving only a confused silence.

"You may know Karl as the so-called 'winner' of a little contest orchestrated by the people responsible for the Charlie Nyx books. . ."

The crowd erupted in boos.

". . .and chain of family restaurants. . ."

Boos mixed with clapping.

"Continuing their pattern of ridiculing the Christian faith, they have proclaimed Karl to be the Antichrist," said Harry. "Little did they know that there are powers at work beyond their understanding. I have recently learned that Karl truly is the Antichrist, handpicked by Lucifer himself!"

Confused muttering mixed with boos.

"Karl," said Harry, turning to face him, "I denounce—"

A commotion suddenly broke out in the front row. Mercury seemed to have gotten into a fistfight with two stadium security guards on the way to Izbazel. Izbazel, holding something round in his hand, was distancing himself from the scuffle and creeping closer to the stage.

Christine, finding it hard to believe that Mercury had nothing better than a right cross up his sleeve, took a deep breath and ran onto the stage.

"Karl!" she said. "We've got to go. Izzy's right there, and he's got a bomb."

Karl waved to Izzy. Izzy waved back. Harry stood openmouthed, having lost his train of thought.

Having bowled over one guard, Mercury decked the second with an uppercut and advanced toward Izbazel, who flipped open the lid of the glass apple with his thumb.

Christine, realizing that there was no way she could get Karl out of the range of the anti-bomb if Izbazel really intended to use it, considered diving off the stage and attempting to wrest it from his grip. She envisioned this going very badly. Having run out of options, she closed her eyes and said the shortest, most sincere prayer she had ever said. It consisted solely of the word
help!

When she opened her eyes, a familiar but unexpected figure had joined them on the stage: Gamaliel.

"Come with me!" Gamaliel barked. "Izzy's going to implode this whole place!"

Christine had no time to assess Gamaliel's motivations. She had to get Karl out of here.

"Karl!" she snapped. "This is our only chance. You've got to get out of here."

Karl eyed her and Gamaliel skeptically.

"Karl Grissom," said Harry, having regained his composure, "I denounce—"

"Wait!" said Christine, an idea flashing into her head. "Karl wants to repent."

Karl looked puzzled.

"He what?" said Harry.

"He wants to repent and accept Jesus Christ as his savior."

"He can't. . .he's the Antichrist! He can't repent."

"I'm sorry," said Christine. "I'm a little rusty on my theology. Can you tell me where in the Bible it says that certain people aren't eligible for forgiveness?"

Harry's face turned red. He turned to the crowd for support, but it was clear that the crowd had finally—they thought—figured out what Harry was up to. He was going to show up the scoffers by baptizing their supposed Antichrist right here in front of forty thousand believers. Cheers and shouts of "Amen!" filled the stadium.

Harry, seeing that he was losing control of the audience, put his hand over the microphone. "It's not true, is it, Karl?"

Karl, more puzzled than ever, looked out at the expectant faces hoping to welcome him into the fold. He looked like he wanted to hide.

"I. . ." he started.

At this moment, Mercury tackled Izbazel. Izbazel held the anti-bomb out of Mercury's reach, his thumb on the trigger. They were causing quite a commotion in the front rows, but most of the crowd remained transfixed on the surprisingly well-acted drama unfolding on the stage.

"Karl," said Christine as patiently as she could, "you've got to trust me. I'm trying to save your life. And the lives of a lot of other people. We've got to get out of here."

Karl looked at Christine, looked back out at the fervent faces of the crowed, shrugged, and then ran toward Gamaliel. Christine was right behind him.

"This way!" yelled Gamaliel, leading them down a dark hallway behind the stairs.

"Dammit, Christine!" Harry growled, suddenly angry. He removed his hand from the microphone and spoke into it loudly and clearly. "Karl, I denounce you as the Antichrist and a servant of Lucifer, in the name of Jesus Christ! I denounce both of you!"

The crowd gasped and muttered among themselves. This wasn't how it was supposed to end, was it?

Mercury and Izbazel were now rolling around in front of the stage, their gangly limbs intertwined. Mercury had managed to jam his thumb between Izbazel's thumb and the button on top of the apple that served as a trigger. The security guards, having recovered from their pummeling and not realizing the fantastically high stakes of this angelic thumb war, were doing their best to separate the two.

"No!" exclaimed Mercury. "He's got a bomb! Don't let him press that button!"

The security guards paused for a moment, taking note of the fact that Izbazel was, in fact, holding a small, round object in his hand. Then, noticing that the object resembled not so much a bomb as something you might buy on clearance at Macy's for your daughter to give to her fourth grade teacher, they resumed their struggle.

"No!" cried Mercury again. "He's going to. . ."

But it was too late. Izbazel had gotten his hand free.

Izbazel grinned and said, "No Antichrist, no Apocalypse."

His thumb pressed the button.

Gamaliel led Christine and Karl to a steel door at the end of a dark, concrete tunnel. The door was marked "PERMITTED USE ONLY."

"No one knows what that means," said Gamaliel, unlocking the door with a key from his pocket. "So they leave it alone."

The door opened to reveal a tiny, featureless room with a flickering fluorescent bulb in the ceiling.

"Get in," said Gamaliel.

They stepped inside, and he closed the door. Gamaliel pulled closed a folding steel curtain on the inside of the door and pressed a button on the wall. "Hold on," he said, despite the fact that there was nothing to hold on to.

The floor fell out from underneath them.

The walls and ceiling fell, too, but it was the floor that really got Christine's interest. A scream stuck in her throat.

They fell long enough for Christine to realize that she had stopped breathing and to wonder whether she might in fact die of asphyxiation before being crushed on impact with the eventual bottom of the elevator shaft.

When at long last the elevator began to decelerate, it did so with such abruptness that Christine's knees buckled and she nearly collapsed. Finally they stopped. There was a
ding!
and Gamaliel slid open the folding door.

"That's what elevators are like when you don't have to worry about OSHA," said Gamaliel.

He led them down another long, dimly lit corridor.

"Hopefully," Gamaliel said, "we're deep enough that if Izbazel does manage to detonate the anti-bomb. . ."

There was a deafening
BOOM!
followed by a low rumbling and falling chunks of concrete. The three of them instinctively shielded their heads as Gamaliel picked up the pace. "We'll be safe down here," he said. "I think."

"Was that. . .?" Christine started.

"The anti-bomb," Gamaliel said.

"I'm tired," Karl complained. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," said Gamaliel.

"Why are you doing this?" Christine asked.

"I guess you've figured out Izzy is in league with Lucifer," Gamaliel said, ducking down another corridor. "I, however, am not. That idiot thought he had me totally snowed, but I was always three steps ahead of him. I really am part of a renegade faction that is trying to foil Lucifer's plans. This way, please."

"By killing Karl?" said Christine.

"Of course not," said Gamaliel. "In fact, keeping Karl safe is critical to our plan. Karl, this way please. We need to get out of here before Los Angeles erupts in chaos."

Karl had balked at the entrance to a particularly dark and narrow tunnel.

"I'm not going in there," he said.

"We have to, Karl. It's the way out."

Karl shook his head. "No chance," he said.

"What's the matter, Karl?" Christine asked. "What are you afraid of?"

Karl dug in his heels. "Trolls," he said ominously.

"There are no trolls down here," said Gamaliel.

"It's just like the books," said Karl.

"The books?" asked Christine. "Oh.
Those
books."

"Well," said Gamaliel, "it's true that there is a secret network of tunnels under Anaheim Stadium, just like in the Charlie Nyx books. This used to be a sort of secret hideout."

Christine turned to stare at Gamaliel. "A hideout for whom?"

"It's complicated," Gamaliel said. "The faction of angels that I'm working with constructed them a while back. Lucifer made Katie Midford put them in the books as sort of a joke. I can explain more later. In any case, I can assure you that there are no trolls down here. This place is completely deserted."

Karl reluctantly followed Gamaliel through the tunnel, which ended at another elevator. They rode it up for what seemed like miles before it deposited them in a remote corner of a parking garage. Sirens wailed in the air as Gamaliel led them to a dusty green Ford Explorer parked by itself on the bottom level of the garage.

"Get in," he said, and they did.

"Gotta get out of LA," said Gamaliel, peeling out of the garage. "This place is going to be like a war zone." They headed east.

Behind them, a massive column of smoke arose where the stadium had once stood.

"They're going to have a hard time blaming that on a natural gas explosion," Gamaliel said. "It's going be terrorism this time around."

"All those people. . ." said Christine. "There must have been forty thousand people in that stadium."

"Not to mention those in the vicinity," said Gamaliel. "Our best estimate is around a hundred and forty, maybe a hundred and fifty thousand people."

"A hundred and fifty thousand. . ." Christine murmured, trying to imagine the devastation. Then her eyes narrowed at Gamaliel. "Wait, what estimate? How did you have time to estimate the damage caused by that thing. . .unless you knew it was going to happen. Unless you. . .you actually planned for this to happen!"

Gamaliel winced, realizing he had said too much. "Hang on, Christine. It's true that we knew what Lucifer was planning. But we didn't cause that implosion. I would have stopped Izbazel, but it was better that we waited until after—"

"Enough!" Christine exclaimed. "I'm so damn tired of you angels and your grand plans! Don't any of you do anything just because you think it's the right thing to do? Does every single action you ever take have to be part of some convoluted plan?"

The Explorer was now hurtling down the freeway to the east of Los Angeles. Ambulances and fire trucks were speeding the other direction.

"Every side in this conflict has its plans," said Gamaliel. "The only ones who are bouncing around freely, without a thought in their little heads, are you humans. And you'll see where
that's
going to get you."

Christine said, "But I thought you said you were going to put a stop to this. You're saying the Apocalypse is still going to happen?"

"The Apocalypse or something like it," said Gamaliel. "That's not really my concern."

"What is your concern exactly?" said Christine. "What is this faction you're working for?"

Gamaliel laughed. "You actually have no idea, do you?"

Christine sighed. "Are we really going to play this game?"

"I work," said Gamaliel, "for the Great Mother. The author of human ingenuity."

"Uh huh," said Christine. "And does this author of human ingenuity have a name?"

"She goes by many names," Gamaliel said.

"Like Puff Daddy," said Karl.

Gamaliel fixed his eyes in the distance and recited:

"And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters: With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication. So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH."

"Wow," said Christine caustically. "Somebody's been taking adult ed classes."

"Scoff not," said Gamaliel. "It is she who shall inherit this plane when Lucifer's schemes fail and Heaven abandons you. You shall tremble before her name!"

"Which is. . .?"

Gamaliel smiled. "That will be revealed to you in due time."