The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (35 page)

39

Sermon on the Green

T
he crowd numbered in the thousands.

There were the street vendors and the hustlers and the film bootleggers and the jewelers and the folks that worked in the small shops selling everything from leather goods to cheap Chinese-made toys with exaggerated colors on them. They stood side by side with those
who came down from the valley. —families from Thousand Oaks and Sherman Oaks. Empathic wealth from the shoreline cities and the gated communities that lined the hills overlooking the city centers across the Southland. They all stood steadfast while extraordinary gusts of wind drowned out their collective murmur. Able-bodied young men climbed the trunks of the Mexican fan palms that lined the outer rim of MacArthur Park, hoping to catch a glimpse of young Logan Drake before he delivered his much-anticipated sermon. It was a pious gathering filled with pure intentions, but it was also surrounded by ominous signs of nature gone rogue, which did nothing to stop the taco trucks, roach coaches and food vendors from pitching their wares amidst the foul winds.

Logan
’s arm was tightly locked onto Keelen’s as he helped her up the largest grassy hill overlooking the dried, emptied lake in the center of the park. He looked tired and worn. His face gaunt. Large dark circles formed in and around his eyes. The skin on his arms was dried and cracked. Blood was on his mind but so was his mission of revelation. Keelen looked over her shoulder and was overwhelmed with the sea of people behind her, but also at the darkening skies above.

“
That doesn’t look good,” she said.

Logan glanced up at the old Quest Lending Building where Fisker and a couple of snipers were perched, the foreboding glint from their scopes vibrated urgency in his voice.
“Come on...just don’t look at the sky. We gotta get moving.”

Augustus Fisker noticed the crowd gathering around the bare patch on the grassy hill. He quickly identified Logan and Keelen through his binoculars as they emerged from the commotion.
“That’s him,” he said to one of the snipers, his voice rasped due to the dry wind. “That’s the fucker.”

“
Him? He doesn’t look very dangerous,” said one of the marksmen, who reclined on his belly, eying Logan through his scope of a Remington 700. His finger rested on the trigger like a miniature executioner awaiting his order. “The guy with the girl, right?”

“
That man has wreaked unbelievable amounts of havoc,” Fisker said. “He’s a terrorist.”

The sniper swayed the reticle in a circular motion, painting Logan
’s chest, shoulders, neck and head. He held his breath for a brief moment to try to gauge the wind as it blew on the exposed skin of his chapped cheeks.

Fisker glanced at the sky and eyed the silver gray sheen which killed his own shadow as heavy gusts blasted his chest with anger. He hoped for a break in the wind, so the bullet
’s trajectory could not be altered. “Wind isn’t letting up...we might have to get closer.”

As they reached the top of the hill, Logan demanded Keelen
’s attention by massaging her shoulders and making eye contact. “Stick with me, all right? If the crowd sees you with me, if they associate you with me, they’re going to be eager to help you if anything were to happen to me.”

“
What?”

“
If something happens. Whatever you need, just ask. They’re eager to help,” he said cryptically, but she knew what he meant.

“
Nothing’s happening to you,” Keelen said. She then pointed toward the crowd. “You’re gonna be fine...they love you.”

“
Remember, you stay by my side...always. Don’t lose sight of me. Make sure they don’t take me.”

“
Who’s they?” she asked loudly, as cheers and applause erupted around them. “Don’t be silly, no one’s kidnapping you. Who’s gonna kidnap someone as powerful as you?”

“
I’m not that powerful,” Logan said, as he smiled and waved at the thousands gathered to see him. “I’ve never felt worse.” He then waved at the sky, grinning at the multiple cameras that hung underneath the swarm of news helicopters, knowing full well that his image lacked the ability to be transmitted. He even smirked at the police in riot gear. Many of them tipping their helmets and lifting their clear shields at the charismatic demigod.

“
Things are so unfair,” he said. “How can perfection be demanded from beings that are inherently imperfect?”

“
What do you mean?”

He then bellowed at the crowd, raising his arms in the air, animated.
“How can perfection be demanded from beings that are inherently perfect?”

The assembly of Angelinos roared back with approval and cheers.

Logan fed off the energy of the diverse crowd and paced the lawn like a four-star general. “An overwhelming majority of you love your families, you do what’s best for them, you take care of them, and you love them. Yet, the majority of you aren’t worth saving?” Logan’s voice projected, his vocal chords amplified through divine means. “That’s right. The powers-that-be, whether those who rule you, on Earth or from the heavens, think that’s not enough. Surrender unto me, they say. You live for them, to satiate their power. Sure, they highlight those who do their bidding by giving them the keys to everlasting salvation or the keys to a wonderfully materialistic life on Earth, but only a selected few, the sycophants, those who sacrifice their own identity for their own selfish means know how to play the game or are allowed to play the game. What’s gonna happen to those of you who still do the right thing by looking at your children in their eyes before bedtime and remind them how much you love them, but will be judged in death because you profess a different faith from the one that worships the dominant God? Or have lied for survival, or have thieved because you’re hungry, or have cursed a wretched set of abusive parents? The expectations are unreasonable, you should not be punished, you should be heard.”

Logan
’s enthusiasm and the vibrating crescendo in his speech escalated feelings of empowerment for everyone who came to see the young man who had bucked the structure of power. “You work 50, 60, 70 hours a week, yet, you can’t feed your family. You’re called freeloaders, unskilled. That’s right,
unskilled
. The new word for ‘slave.’ An economic unit, not worthy of a voice or decency. The hypocrisy in the message is deafening, isn’t it? Work hard they say and you will be rewarded, pray hard they say, and you will be rewarded with eternal salvation, yet there is limited space. Resources, people. Whether on Earth or in the heavens...resources are what determines who lives and who dies, who succeeds and who fails, who gets absorbed and who receives the gift of eternity. Nothing else nothing more.”

Fisker
’s face contorted with agitation. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” His wings pulsed against the back of his suit, as he was tempted to swoop down and silence Logan, but the Prophecy was near its culmination, and if humans witnessed Logan getting thrashed by an angel, the demigod’s plan for disruption could come to fruition. Fisker snapped at one of the snipers, “How come you haven’t taken a shot?”

“
The girl...she’s in the way...I can’t, sir.”

“
Who cares about the girl?”

“
We’re already getting shit for taking out civilians in these types of situations. I don’t want the headache and I don’t want the paperwork. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, sir, but you should know better.”

Everyone
’s eyes and ears were dialed in on Logan Drake. People who were working in the nearby office towers stepped out onto the rooftops to listen. The rooftop crowds gave Fisker pause. “Wonderful,” he said, with sarcasm. “Everyone’s gonna be wondering about our little party.”

The wind howled like a beast in agony.
“Look,” yelled a child in the crowd, pointing toward the sky behind him. The low-hanging dual layer of clouds, one darker than the one below, spawned a collection of distended whirling funnels. They tapped the tops of the buildings with a delicate grace, sending some of the spectators running back inside their buildings. The clouds from which the funnels descended, looked angry and hateful. Everyone gawked and gasped, as the small funnels converged, creating a powerful tornado which began ripping at the satellite dishes and antennas that lined the rooftops of the skyline overlooking the park. The twister grew exponentially. First, as wide as an entire 20-story building, then as wide as two. It touched ground just north of the park and kicked up the vehicles from the street as if they were made of Styrofoam. Eighteen-wheelers still attached to their containers were thrown against the sides of buildings. Terrified pedestrians who were downwind of the tornado ran toward the gathering. The sounds of twisting metal and the crunching of concrete filled the ears of everyone who came to hear Logan speak, as panic replaced inspiration.

“
Listen,” Logan said, his voice louder than before, thundering across the sea of panicked clamor. “We can still overcome this. It doesn’t have to end.”

The large twister made it way down one of the narrow streets, the crowd began scattering away from Logan and the oncoming twister.

“Wait,” Logan pleaded loudly.

The frenzied swarm fled as some got trampled, others stopped to help those who were getting knocked and pushed to the ground. Amidst the fearful chatter, cackles and chuckles rang from the center of the pandemonium. Even though they weren
’t supernaturally loud, the sounds were out of place and caught Logan’s attention as well as those who were around the hyenic outbursts. In the middle of the sea of humanity, stood Paolo dancing and prancing in a pink tutu, with a multi-colored parasol, and Cindy, following suit, holding a pair of cymbals in her hands, which she bashed together with comic vigor, while wearing a red felt fez on her head. Their actions caught the attention of a young boy who first flashed a smile, then laughed, but the adults didn’t stop and yanked the boy by the arm. Logan noticed what they were doing and recognized their actions immediately. A feeling of joviality overtook him. Warmth overwhelmed him.
Mother
. “Everyone stop,” Logan boomed. “Tell jokes, make the person next to you laugh.”

M
irabel was very loyal to Logan, even staying at his side during the impending doom that swirled before them. She was confused at first, but if Logan Drake asked them to be humorous in the middle of a crisis, who was she to question it? She tucked in her arms and pinched her hands close to her chest and hopped around like a bunny, compelling a group of little girls with long, silky-straight, black hair to giggle nonstop. A sweaty and tired Keelen Grant joined in on the hopping and wiggled her nose as if she smelled around for a delectable patch of fresh grass. As expected, the children, who had an amazing ability to disregard the most heinous of events to appreciate a moment of slapstick, burst into laughter.

“
What are you doing?” Mirabel asked Keelen.

“
Hopping around like a bunny.”

“
I’m a T-Rex, not a bunny. Didn’t you hear the growl?”

“
I thought that was the sound bunnies make,” Keelen said, eyeing the oncoming twister.

“
Rabbits don’t make sounds, do they?”

A clear, glass dome burst from within the crowd
’s center, next to where a wildly dressed

Paolo and Cindy danced like fools.
Thalia grew powerful as she absorbed the laughter, particularly the sincere and pure glee that came from the children. The dome reverberated outward and did not cease its growth until it shielded everyone who stood at the outer edges of the park. People who scrambled away and spilled out onto the surrounding streets, made their way back and squeezed themselves inside the protective bubble. As the twister approached, all eyes stared in fright as the dome shielded them from airborne tires, shards of glass as long as spears, and pieces of indistinct metal.

Fisker told his men to stay put.
“Stand firm,” he said. “The tornado is heading away from us.”

“
What is going on down there?” asked one of the shooters, as the wind drowned out the consonants in his words.

“
Focus,” Fisker yelled. “Keep your eye on Logan.”

By news estimates, there were over 100,000 people gathered at McArthur Park, every one of them now
under the protection of Thalia’s shield. Logan ran toward the wondrous woman who glowed as if she were powered by the city’s power grid. Keelen, not long behind, did her best to remain calm and collected, as she witnessed an incomprehensible miracle. She neared the motley crew at the center of the dry lake and then made eye contact with the petite girl dressed in the silly attire who held the cymbals at her side. “Cindy?” she asked loudly, everyone around her parted, letting her reach her friend unobstructed.

“
Keelen?” Cindy replied, with elation. She dropped the cymbals from her hands and rushed Keelen with open arms. They connected in the middle of the dry lake like two long-lost sisters who hadn’t seen each other since the beginning of some decade-long war, even though it had only been two days since they’d last talked.