End Of World Thriller - 1st three chapters
ONE
“Her blood pressure is eighty over fifty and her injuries are the craziest I’ve ever seen…whatever it was went straight through the wrists.”
“Doc, when is she going to wake up? I got two dead on the 7 line that folks are saying she caused.”
“What? This woman caused two deaths? How’s that possible?” the doctor queried.
Claire Rogers slowly opened her eyes before realizing that the conversation she just woke to was taking place to her left behind a white curtain.
Both arms were on fire from her elbows down to her fingers and the small room smelled like toilet cleaner. She struggled to sit up on the squeaky gurney but managed to get a good look at her wrists.
“No!” she whispered loudly as she pulled back her bandages. Both wrists looked to be a bloody mess, not like a suicidal slicing result but more of an impalement from a spike of some sort.
How the hell did she kill two people on the stupid 7 line? The guy talking to the doctor had to be a cop of some sort and Claire definitely didn’t want to talk with the cops. She struggled to remember getting on the 7 line, but, after that point, it was a blank before waking up moments earlier. She really wanted to talk with the doctor alone, but the cop was making that difficult. Claire wished that Lauren, her best friend was with her and planned on calling her soon. She looked around the room to see anything that could tell her what hospital she was in. She would need that before she talked with Lauren.
The cop talking with Claire’s doctor continued to press. “That’s why I need to talk with your patient as soon as we possibly can!”
Claire closed her eyes and really tried to focus on her getting on the subway car. Certainly, she’d remember something like killing two people. Nothing but a blank came to her mind, though. She kept her eyes closed because if she faked sleeping, maybe the cop would leave the room and she could talk with the doctor alone.
“Look, she may be out for a couple of hours,” the doctor answered. “We just don’t know right now.”
Claire heard a door behind the curtain swing open.
“Sir! You cannot be in here!” one of the men behind the curtain asserted.
“Where is the girl?” a deep, Indian accented voice respond.
“Sir, you must leave!”
This was bad. Something inside of Claire made her quickly yank off the wires hooked up to her. She spotted her backpack on the table to her right.
“Where is the girl from the subway!”
Claire franticly decided to hide in the room five feet from her backpack, and, as she hopped onto the floor, she heard the soft sound of a silencer firing three or four times.
Flying over to the door, Claire burst into the room. It had very dim lighting but Claire wasn’t about to flick on the main lights. She had to hide. Fast.
She heard the curtain open wildly, reinforcing her assessment that there was little time to find that hiding spot. The room looked to be filled with large medical equipment, creating a kind of maze like pathway. The one window had two cabinets against it, thus allowing very little light.
She ducked down and started to make her way across the room. Veering to her right, away from the door made the most sense. Claire was behind a mobile lighting station when the door that she had come through opened slowly. Her heart rammed against her chest as she crouched down behind the station. She thought about sitting on the floor but figured that might create some noise. Claire’s right knee had been bothering her since last Thursday’s stumble at the Blue Nile dance club, so she didn’t know how long she could stay crouched down before shifting and possibly alerting the Indian and his silencer.
Suddenly, she heard shots coming out of that silencer. Five or six. Then a reload. They seemed to be whizzing right over her head.
“I know you’re in here, lady…”
Loud screaming started from the other room, making it clear that the killer’s victims had been discovered.
The man quickly closed the door. He didn’t move at first, but then began hustling along the wall opposite from Claire’s position.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you…real soon…you can count on that!”
The man fired a few more shots around the room before fumbling for a door handle; a burst of light flooded the room as the killer exited. Figuring that that particular door led out into the main hallway, Claire sat down against the lighting station. She would wait there for a few minutes.
Who the hell was this guy and why did he want to kill her? Did someone cause injuries to her wrists and then hire a hit man because that someone didn’t want to be found out? As nuts as that sounded, the past few hours would easily fall into the nuts category, so Claire didn’t rule it out. And who else knew she was in the hospital and would there be more hit men? One thing was for sure. She needed to get out of there and get far away from the kill zone which was her in that hospital bed.
She held up her wrists into the dim light of the room. The size of a nickel, the holes looked to bloody up before clearing away for a clean see through…in an alternating kind of way. Every three or four seconds. Only, the blood, when it cleared, didn’t pour out of her like one would think. It just sucked back into the tissue.
“This can’t be happening!” Claire muttered while slamming her foot on the floor. “Not me! Not me!”
TWO
Claire Rogers was 21, 5’7, 127. Her one year anniversary living in New York City was two weeks ago. Long gone was the girl from Omaha stepping off the bus at Port Authority with eyes so wide it was amazing she wasn’t taken for every cent within 24 hours. Aunt Libby, Claire’s guardian for sixteen years, died fourteen months ago and left her niece $30,000. Claire was damn proud to have over 2/3 of that windfall left after more than a year in New York. She didn’t want to be a Broadway star, but instead sought the second most challenging career of model and fashion photographer.
“Lauren…you have to help me!” Claire whispered into her phone. “I blacked out on the 7 line and I ended up at Bellevue.”
“Bellevue?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah, Bellevue!”
Claire was staring at an address sticker on the lighting station.
“Can you meet me outside one of the entrances in like fifteen minutes?”
“Uh, sure,” Lauren responded. “I was actually on my way downtown to pick up a box of stuff for Walter, so yeah, fifteen minutes should work.”
Lauren worked at a tiny ad agency that Walter Michaels owned.
“Great! I’ll tell and show you everything then!” Claire confirmed.
She thought about taking a picture of her wounds with her smart phone and sending them to Lauren, but figured that might slow her transport downtown somehow. She knew she could trust Lauren with anything but the pit in her stomach seemed to be telling her that this ordeal was going to push that trust to the brink.
Claire slowly stood up and leaned against the lighting station as she felt a tad light headed. She knew it was pure luck to have woken up when she did. During the conversation behind the hospital curtain, the non-doctor guy was talking about her causing the deaths of two people on the 7 line; and that’s why he wanted the doctor to wake Claire up. In this social media age, Claire realized that someone had to have video of the incident. She remembered getting on the 7 line and riding it for a bit, but then the next thing she could remember was waking up in the hospital. So, clearly, she had to have gotten the wounds on the train and blacked out.
“But, then, how the heck could I have killed anybody all blacked out like that?” Claire wondered aloud.
Claire found her grey hoodie in her backpack. As she slowly pulled the hoodie over her torso, Claire thought about the model Angie Stevens and the bone she had been throwing Claire the past month. When a model finds a photographer she likes, she sticks with that photographer; and, if that model gets hot, so it goes for the photographer. And hot it was for Angie lately.
Her wounds needed some bandages which prompted a hurried search for a medical cabinet of some sort. What sounded like cops on their walkie talkies could be heard just outside the door Indian silencer guy had used.
Claire found some large bandages on top of a table a few feet from the lighting station and managed to wrap them around her wrist.
“Oh, this is going to get infected in a day,” she whispered to herself while finishing up the taping job.
Claire quickly slid through the door to the main hallway and walked as fast as she could to the elevators. She didn’t even know what floor she was on. Claire thought about pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over her head but figured that might draw more attention, so she left it hanging in the back for now.
The center elevator door opened just before Claire heard,
“Ms. Rogers! We need to speak to you!”
Claire dove to the side of the empty elevator out of view from whoever was calling after her and began hitting the ‘close door’ button madly.
Thundering footsteps rushing toward the elevator dominated her senses but the doors shut quickly. The elevator stopped at the lobby of the hospital which was far more crowded than she expected. The front main entrance to the hospital was out of the question, so Claire looked down the hospital hallway toward another, less prominent entrance. A large man with a ZZ top style red beard bumped into her.
“Sorry ma’am,” he uttered before hustling away.
The jostling set alive the pain sensation from Claire’s wrists.
She quickly headed past the visitors center to the exit on the south side of the building. The hoodie was now pulled over her head.
With her phone in hand, she texted Lauren:
Meet me at corner 1st and 26th. Corner diagonal to Bellevue.
The exit left her on 26th street, east of the corner she told Lauren but she wanted to scan the area and make sure the silencer wielding Indian guy wasn’t around.
“I’d wait around for me outside if I were him,” Claire muttered to herself.
The sunlight nearly blinded her as she tried to study the vibe in the area around the corner to the west. She didn’t want to rush up there without abandon, so she glanced at her phone. Lauren had texted back:
Be there in 4 mins
Claire crossed 26th street and looked around to see if she got anyone’s attention. She figured she couldn’t stay close to the hospital for long, especially if those chasing her into the elevator were cops.
Two large men in suits burst through the hospital exit causing Claire to spin and hurry up 26th street toward 1st avenue. If only she had eyes in the back of her hoodie, but she didn’t dare look back until she got to the cross street.
A group of tourists with an enormous map rounded the corner, making Claire swerve out onto the street to avoid a crash.
She felt a hand grab her arm. It was one of the tourists.
“Didn’t mean to knock you out of the way,” the tourist offered.
Claire winced a smile. “No worries.”
She wanted to kick the guy in the groin for grabbing her arm like that but sprinted up to the corner instead. The men in suits were nowhere in sight.
Claire crossed 1st avenue to the southwest corner.
Happy Town deli was on the corner and she thought it might be smart to duck inside there and wait for Lauren. The deli had a pickle barrel right by the door and the smell wiped the pain away from Claire’s aching body. At least for a moment or two.
She sat at the counter running along the window facing 26th street.
“Can I get you anything, sweetie?” a waitress with grey hair in a bun asked softly.
“Umm…can I get a diet coke?”
The waitress smiled. “Sure thing, doll.”
A group of teens blasted through the deli’s door, laughing up a storm. They sat at the counter behind Claire, loudly talking about one of their teachers. Something about a dance move he showed them.
Claire looked around and didn’t spot the waitress. Glancing again at her phone, she thought about leaving. Was it a mistake to have Lauren meet her so close to the hospital? In any case, she would be very firm with Lauren that they needed to get as far away from the hospital block…and fast.
Two of the teens started to stare at Claire, whispering to each other and looking at their cell phones.
Finally, the diet coke arrived; served by a man with a dark haired pony tail, blue jeans and a black turtle neck.
“It’s on the house,” he offered with a smile. “You okay?”
Claire looked up at the man. “I’m good…thanks.”
She didn’t have a photo shoot that day, something that Claire had come to cherish. Angie had her running all around the metro area for the past couple of weeks. Angie was from Iowa and that Midwest connection definitely helped nurture their relationship. Her younger brother, Robbie, was visiting the past week, but that didn’t seem to slow Angie down.
Claire picked up the soda can and noticed a piece of paper underneath. The dark haired pony tailed guy must have left it.
‘Get out of here right now!’ the note said.
She stood up from her stool and quickly gave the deli a glance to see if anyone was rushing toward her. Nothing. If the past twenty minutes hadn’t just happened, maybe Claire would have asked the waiter for the meaning of such a note, but people were after her, and those people could easily be in the deli.
Leaving the soda on the counter, Claire rushed out of the deli
Claire’s cell phone rang as her feet hit the sidewalk.
“Hello?”
She glanced back at the deli to see if anybody was following her.
“Claire Rogers?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Come meet me about halfway down 26th street, Claire,” the male voice continued. “Hustle up!”
“Jonathan, is that you?” Claire asked in an annoyed way.
Jonathan Gratie was Angie’s assistant and had a really deep voice like the male talking to Claire’s phone.
“So, how do I know you aren’t the one chasing me from the hospital? There was a guy with a silencer trying to kill me back there…”
Suddenly, screaming rang out from inside the deli, so Claire began running west on 26th street as fast as she could..
“You have a birthmark right below your hairline…that’s why you wear your hair long.”
Claire hadn’t shown anybody that birthmark since she got to the New York,
“You still there?” she yelled into the phone.
“I see I got your attention,” the male responded. “Now hold on…”
She was more than a quarter way across the block when a blinding light came out of nowhere and stopped her in her tracks.
Out from the light, a man emerged in front of Claire. 6’5, Caucasian with blond flowing hair, the man reached for Claire’s hand.
“I’m Raphael, the archangel,” he announced.
Claire shot back. “What? You’re….uh….kind of….um…an angel?”
Right… Who was this guy kidding? In New York City, there was a nutso on every corner saying something crazy like that.
Her face suddenly started to become intensely hot which made her back away from Raphael even more.
Claire reached for her face but it was too hot for the touch and she started yelling out in pain.
Raphael took her by the arms. “I have to leave you now. You’re not ready for me yet…and you will burn up if I stay.”
Claire suddenly noticed the Indian guy with the silencer running toward them from across the street.
Raphael raised his arm and a glowing sphere shot out from him. The Indian assassin tried to avoid the attack but the sphere went clear through his abdomen and disappeared into the air. The assassin collapsed in the middle of 26h street before turning into a pile of dust.
Beginning to cry, Claire turned her face turned toward the sidewalk. Maybe this guy was the Angel Raphael after all.
The angel picked her up and put her in a cab that had pulled up.
“St. Peter’s on West 20th,” he told the driver before giving him some cash.
Claire flung the passenger door back open as the angel was closing it.
“So, where were you in the hospital back there?” Claire pressed. “I mean, that was a touch and go situation with that guy bursting into the hospital room as I’m lying innocently in the bed. I could’ve easily been killed and…”
Raphael started to lean into the cab but pulled back. “Well, I woke you up in time for you escape.”
“You woke me up in time?” Claire shouted. “How about bursting in the hospital room and taking this guy out like you just did here on the street?”
The angel chuckled and tapped the top of the cab gently. “Oh, I was there and I made it such that he couldn’t find you in the room you were hiding in. Believe me, I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”
Claire put her head back onto the seat. “Okay, okay…I didn’t mean to challenge you
“Claire, I will find you in a bit…do not leave the church until I talk to you again. There are a number of threats against you, so do as I say. ”
The cab sped off and Claire turned to look through the back window; Raphael was gone.
Her face turned back to normal which was confirmed by her compact mirror.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered softly.
If this archangel was her protector, he had a strange way of showing it. Why hadn’t he taken out the assassin long before the 26th street showdown? He could have waited for the assassin to run out of the hospital and taken him out right there. Why the whole drama around the deli soda and the very public shooting of the assassin?
And where were his wings?
She knew one thing, though; the pain in her wrists went completely away when Raphael was present. Claire noticed that even with her face on fire like it was.
Somehow, Raphael knew she was in the deli, like he was watching her from the street. But if there was a killer in the deli, they probably would have kept Claire from walking out.
Her mind was racing so fast, she closed her eyes and sunk them into her hands.
Maybe she could be around Raphael if she didn’t look at him. She could keep her back toward him at all times. Or would her back, then, start to feel iron hot like her face did?
She felt her phone shake. A message from Lauren.
Girl, where are you? You have me freaking out!
Claire started to type a reply saying to meet her at the church but it dawned on her that someone bad might follow her to St. Peter’s.
So, the reply was changed to: Don’t be freaking out, I am fine. I shouldn’t have bothered you….love you!”
Not two seconds went by before Claire’s phone started ringing.
“You know, you have never called this phone before,” Claire told her friend Lauren.
“Well, I didn’t know if you were tied up by some evil killer dude and it was him texting me back…you really got me worried…and I hate to worry. I am not my mother…”
Claire chuckled, which felt really weird given all that had happened in the last ten minutes.
“I know you’re not your mother, so don’t worry and I’ll stop by your pad in a few hours…”
“What happened to the guy trying to kill you….”
“Oh, I think I was still a little high from the drugs, that’s all.”
“Uh huh…well, folks were screaming out of the deli when I got there and I knew enough not to stick around; but that only made my worry for you clime sky high. So, it’s good to hear you safe, that’s all. Anyway, I guess I’ll see you when I see you, girl.”
“Ciao!” Claire replied.
She sat back in the cab and realized that Angie hadn’t texted her anything about tomorrow, which probably meant that Claire had another day off. She hadn’t had two days off during a work week in five months. But this was a good thing. Maybe Raphael could heal her wounds. Maybe he could work on his human contact demeanor and become way less fiery. Maybe he might tell her what the hell was going on; like why were folks trying to kill her. Too many maybes.
Claire Rogers didn’t know anything about religion. Never went to Sunday school or got confirmed or anything of that ilk. She knew other kids who went to church and all that, but that just wasn’t her family’s thing.
Lauren was one of those church girls, and had a small crucifix in her apartment. She never really talked about it, though, and Claire never brought it up. She did know, though, that Lauren volunteered to teach some kids in Harlem two weeknights a week.
Yet, from the moment that Claire woke up in that hospital bed, she knew exactly what the holes in her wrists were. At least what they looked like, anyway. What they meant for her and why she was chosen…well, that was going to have to come from Raphael.
Her stomach growled and Claire realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since early morning. She wasn’t a fan of eating a big lunch, but she knew she had to eat something soon.
As the cab pulled up to St. Peter’s, Claire spotted a pizzeria down the block. She watched the cab drive away after dropping her off. Just to make sure she hadn’t drawn this cabbie’s interest in her peculiar situation. Claire ran over to the pizzeria to find the place empty. They were taking a fresh sausage pie out of the oven, so she asked for a slice of that pie. And a diet coke.
THREE
Claire exited the pizzeria and immediately heard the guy a block away.
“Watch out humanity, the end days are near and the anti-Christ is coming…beware the anti-Christ! Straighten your ways, straighten your ways!”
The man with long grey hair was wearing a black trench coat and looked like a total fit for the creepy subway platforms New York was famous for. He was standing right outside the church steps. Claire could also see very faded blue jeans underneath the trench coat.
He wasn’t standing there when Claire arrived thirteen minutes earlier.
“Oh, this day is getting better and better!” Claire thought to herself.
Claire took a deep breath and quickly walked toward St. Peter’s. She didn’t get ten yards before the guy whipped his head around and stared in silence.
She decided to walk behind him and approach the stairs from the side. When she was on the stairs, he turned to her.
“The chosen ones will see all, young lady. You’re special, aren’t you?”
Claire glanced back at him and noticed he was smiling…sort of.
Just then, she heard screams from the street.
“The President’s been shot!” a older woman exclaimed as she exited the church.
She looked right at Claire. “They’re saying he and his advisors were on Marine One and it got attacked by a missile. That brought it down on the ground and heavily armed men ran up to the helicopter and shot everybody on it.”
“Oh, no!” Claire yelled out followed by her hand over her mouth.
Several people on the street were now screaming with their cell phones in hand.
“Judgment day is coming some!” the creepy man in the trench coat announced. “This is only the beginning!”
Claire whipped out her phone and hit the CNN app. A photo of the burning helicopter was the attached to the story which read almost exactly like she had just heard from the older woman.
A group of bikers got the whole thing on video, albeit from pretty far away. The chopper lands really hard and has flames coming out the front section following the missile attack. Then a white van pulls up and heavily armed men open fire on the chopper. After maybe thirty seconds, one of them opens the door to Marine One and begins firing on the inside for maybe ten seconds before the white van drives off. End of video.
“Now that lunatic Waltman becomes President!” a young man yelled out on the street.
Rick Waltman was a member of the Illuminati Party that had come out of nowhere three congressional elections ago and performed exceedingly well. So well, that President Clark, a democrat, had no choice but to have Waltman on the ticket the last presidential election. They won in a landslide.
After the most recent congressional election, the Illuminati Party controlled 25% of the House and just under 20% of the Senate.
Profoundly atheist and accused of seeking the advancement of a global government, the Illuminati Party promoted a national healthcare policy like the rest of the world, a 65% federal tax on the top 2% of wealth in the U.S., three year term limits on congressional members and a 30% slashing of the defense budget. Not an official part of the party line, but the removal of the tax free status of churches was feared to be lurking behind the scenes.
Claire ducked inside the church and ran over to the back pew. Twitter was alive with people talking about Rick Waltman. Many were saying that he was behind the assassination.
The church was profoundly quiet and Claire didn’t see anybody around. She sat down over by some lit candles. Her new angel friend would be there soon. Maybe.
One key question was rattling around in her brain: If this angel has all these heavenly powers, how come he can’t figure out how to not make me burn up when I’m around him?
Suddenly, two people emerged over by where the pews began in the front. One of them was a minister.
“Pastor, you cannot call off the service!” an older woman with long dark hair and wearing a loud flowery dress asserted.
“Lisa, I have to think about security of the people and the best thing for everybody is to hunker down, lay low and wait for things to stabilize. ‘Cause right now, things are anything but stable…”
The woman grabbed the minister’s arm. “But that’s exactly why we all need prayer and to be together…for times like this!”
The minister sat down in the front pew. “I don’t know…I just don’t know, Lisa.”
The woman showed the minister her phone. “Look, all these folks on Facebook are asking about the service at 5:30…Pastor, please…they all need you right now.”
“All right…all right!” the minister yelled out with a wave of his arms. “Tell everybody on Facebook that the service is still on…help me God with this call.”
The minister took a step down the aisle. “Oh, Lisa, Michael is back outside scary the poor folks…I don’t want to talk to him, so could you go out there and ask him nicely to tone down his rhetoric? The end of the world is not coming any time soon.”
He acted like he didn’t even see Claire sitting over by the candles. The minister turned and walked back to where he and Lisa had entered.
Lisa hustled to the front door of the church and asked Michael to come inside for a talk.
“Uh, Michael, Pastor Mike, doesn’t want you scaring all folks about the end of days…so could you tone it down, just a little?”
Michael took a step back. “Now, Lisa, I’ll get off the church steps and move to the sidewalk, but this is the land of free speech last time I checked, so…”
Lisa waved both arms in front of her. “Okay…okay! The sidewalk will do just fine…but don’t be blocking the folks coming in here for the service.”
Michael bowed to Lisa. “Thank you much!”
He turned and bolted out of the church.
Lisa sighed loudly before noticing Claire.
“Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there,” she began.
“I just came in to think,” Claire responded. “It’s so quiet in here…and crazy out there with all that’s happened.”
Lisa sat down next to Claire. “I know, right? This country is moving down a very dangerous path. Rick Waltman is our new President and that is a very scary thing.”
Claire chuckled. Part of her wanted so badly to show this woman she just met her wounds and talk about her new angel friend. The other sane part said, of course, said ‘not on your life!’
“So, are you and that Minister good friends?” Claire asked. “He sure seems to listen to you…”
“Pastor Mike? No, not really…well…I do help out at this church a lot and we do end up talking about things, so maybe we are friendly…he is a very blessed man, I’ll tell you that much.”
Lisa put her hand on Claire’s knee. “I have to leave and run some errands this afternoon. It was nice to meet you….”
“Claire Rogers...it was nice to meet you to…”
“Lisa Hunter.”
They shook hands and Lisa left through the front door of the church.
Claire sat back in the pew. Going back to her apartment would be a totally stupid move, she realized, but that apartment was normalcy to her and the past hour had moved so fast with the abnormal - acid trip style.
The bandages had yet to bleed through, which was kind of a shock, and the pain was mildly pulsating.
She picked up her phone, before wondering why the Angel Raphael had sent her to the cathedral. If he wanted to meet her there, he surely would’ve done so already. Was the meeting with Lisa in the plan? Claire began to rub her temples in an attempt to calm her thoughts. After a minute or so, she focused again on her phone.
Can I meet you at your apartment? Claire texted to Lauren. They could grab dinner at The Hive, a hole in the wall burger joint on 2nd avenue near Lauren’s place. Claire really hoped that her friend didn’t draw any attention at the deli, though the place sure seemed to be in chaos mode when she got there.
Sure, sounds awesome! Can I meet you there in 30? Lauren replied.
You bet…How about The Hive?
I thought you’d never ask.
Claire put her phone away. It was still too early for dinner, but it would be nice to sit in Lauren’s apartment and talk. The transport plan was the E line over to the 4,5,6 and up the east side. A guy down the block was on the sidewalk selling hats and scarves…good for hiding on the run.
She stood up from the pew and walked out of the church.
Michael was nowhere in sight. Maybe Rick Waltman’s gang silenced him.
Claire walked up to the hat and scarf display and pick out a Mets baseball cap.
Suddenly, she heard a loud crash up ahead. At least four cars were piled up at the intersection and it became clear the traffic light was out.
“The whole block has lost power!” someone screamed out behind Claire.
She paid the man selling the hats and started to run down the block away from the car crash and toward the church. Something was telling her to get the heck out of there.
People were scrambling around the streets now, acting very weird and looking like looting could start any second.
Claire ran to the block north of the church, 9th Avenue and 21st street, and almost crashed into a motorcycle with Michael, the loud preacher, on it.
“Get on, you can’t be anywhere near here!” he yelled out.
Claire looked at Michael and shook her head. “What the heck is going on?”
She knew the subway likely was a mess, and probably not running, and hailing a cab could take forever, so she hopped onto the back of the bike.
Michael soared the motorcycle up the west side, weaving between the traffic. The traffic lights were out all the way up 8th avenue. They had gotten to about 50th street when Michael pulled the bike over on the sidewalk. Claire hopped off to stretch.
“You’re the special one…I just know it,” Michael declared firmly.
“The special one?” Claire shot back. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Let me see your wrists,” Michael demanded.
“Why?” Claire answered defensively.
“Because the special one has been marked…”
Claire held out her left hand in front of Michael and slowly pulled back the bandage.
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Michael yelled out. “You are the one!”
He then looked around to see if anybody was paying them any attention. Nobody was…at least from what they could tell.
“Okay, so what is so special about this?”
“Have you ever read the Book of Daniel...in the bible?” Michael asked slowly.
Claire shook her head no.
Michael sighed. “All right. so, in the Book of Daniel, the prophecy calls for a seven year period of tribulation after the Anti-Christ takes over the world. I really believe that Rick Waltman is the Anti-Christ.”
Claire laughed. “Oh, come on! You don’t really believe all that bible stuff do you?”
Michael grabbed her hand. “Honey, I am not the one with the marks of Jesus Christ on my wrists…so you better start believing and fast!”
Claire pulled her hand back. “Okay, okay…go on.”
“So, we will know if Rick Waltman is the anti-Christ if he signs a seven year support agreement with Israel.”
“Support agreement?” Claire asked. “I guess I’m not getting the Israel angle here.”
“Well, this agreement would call for the support for the re-building of the new Israel temple.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “All of this is in the Book of Daniel?”
“Yes, and the Book of Revelation as well.”
“Damn...so, what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, the chosen one is to lead all Christians during the tribulation which I believe will involve the opening of Hell to mankind.”
“What?” Claire asked with a firm voice.
“Just know that if Waltman signs any kind of new agreement with Israel and it happens to be for seven years, things are going to get really bad on this earth.”
“So, why would God pick me, someone who doesn’t believe in Jesus and all of that?”
Claire demanded.
Michael sighed again. “That is one very good mystery…I don’t have an answer for you on that one…but those wounds, lady, are the marks of Jesus for sure.”
“And this is end of the world stuff, right?”
“Oh, yeah…the very bitter end.”
Claire started to cry. “This is all too overwhelming…I just need to see my friend, Lauren, right now and settle my mind a bit. Can we head over to the east side?”
Just then, she realized that the Angel Raphael had told her to stay at the church and wait for him there. She thought about telling Michael this, but decided to hold off for now.
‘The angel can find me anywhere if he really wants to,’ Claire reasoned.
Michael hopped off the motorcycle to give her a hug. He smelled like vanilla. After a few seconds, they were back on bike and heading up to 57th street to crossover to the east side.
The 57th street stores and traffic lights were totally dark, drawing several policemen on horses out trying to keep the peace.
With Michael darting through the traffic, Claire began imagining what the opening of Hell on earth would look like. Zombie-like creatures for sure would fill the streets, once human but since damned to the netherworld. Corporations would collapse as would the world economies. Would her cell phone stop working? Would cars even run? The weak surely wouldn’t survive.
Lauren’s place was on 78th street between 3rd and 2nd. Apartment 5B, complete with a doorman. As best they could tell, the east side was just as blacked out as the west. It was a little after 4:00 in the afternoon.
As Claire hopped off the back of Michael’s motorcycle, he reached for her left hand.
“This is where you’ll be staying?” he pressed.
Claire shook her head yes. “Can I find you at…”
“You need to go somewhere on the lower east side,” Michael inserted. “Why don’t we leave the address in your phone?”
Claire pulled out her phone. “Okay, let me have it.”
“Now, this guy’s a former Catholic minister who’s a Stigmata expert as well as being very prepared for the seven year tribulation period. He told me last week that the special one would be emerging quite soon…and look at you right here…amazing!”
“Yeah, yeah…what’s the address?”
“327 Avenue A, above Luigi’s Café, apartment 2A…his name is Roberto.”
Claire typed all of that information into her phone.
“Now, he kind of sounds like a crazy, nut job…if you ask me, but Lauren and I will go see him.”
Michael put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s no crazier than I am.”
“Oh, that’s super comforting…thanks.”
“So, you haven’t told me yet where you got the wounds because…”
Claire folded her arms. “I was on the subway when I saw this huge flash of light and then felt enormous pain in my wrists. Then I must’ve passed out since that’s all that I remember...but I overheard a cop in the hospital saying two people died on account of me and, for the life of me, I have no idea how that could’ve happened.”
Michael’s eyebrows lowered. “Some people died...that is intriguing.”
Just then, Claire noticed a guy with dark sunglasses speaking into shoulder mike. He was staring right them.
“You see that guy over there?” Claire whispered.
“Yup, we gotta get out of here…right now!”
Claire jumped back onto motorcycle and Michael zoomed off. The guy with the sunglasses was running down the street after them. The bike hadn’t traveled two blocks on 2nd avenue when another motorcycle began chasing them. Michael turned the bike onto the sidewalk, passing under some building scaffolding. The chasing bike followed suit. The driver of that motorcycle had a dark helmet on.
A shotgun blast whizzed past them, forcing Michael back onto the street where traffic was crazy heavy. With the lights out, vehicles alternated going through the light one at a time. It was 75th street’s turn to pass through when Michael and Claire arrived but Michael sped on through, narrowly missing a FedEx truck. Michael made a quick turn right down the south side of 75th street and darted in front of the FedEx vehicle. More scaffolding was on the north side of the street, so Michael sped under the platform, heading west.
Claire looked back and didn’t see the shotgun wielding assassin. A homeless man with a shopping cart filled with cans scooted out of an alley and almost slammed into them. They managed to get over to Lexington Avenue in decent time before Michael pulled the bike over.
“Should we head south?”
“I need to call Lauren because they clearly knew of her and figured that I might show up at her apartment. I hope she’s okay…”
Michael slammed the front of the motorcycle with his fist. “They probably hacked into your phone and tracked your conversations and texts with her.”
“How does someone like you know about cell phone hacking? Remember, you’re a scary preacher dude standing outside a major cathedral, warning of eternal damnation. You shouldn’t be up on all this techie stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t know…I was in Times Square a few weeks back and they had world news written on one of the big electronic boards they have, so one of them was talking about criminals hacking into cell phones…I mean, you ask a legitimate question but that’s where I get most of my info on the what is happening in the world…”
Claire laughed. “From the Time Square boards…Oh, now that is rich!”
Michael looked right at her. “We have to keep moving.”
Mr. shotgun dude couldn’t be far behind so they shouldn’t take comfort, Claire realized, as she was hopping back onto the bike.
Michael made a quick left onto Lexington and headed the bike over to the west side of the road. Claire kept on the lookout for the other motorcycle but only spotted trucks and taxi cabs. The sidewalk was too crowded to run the bike along there, so Michael rode up to the next car in line to cross the intersection and simply crossed with it. A cabbie back at 3rd avenue cut them off so they couldn’t do that, but the sidewalk was clear enough, fortunately, for the quick adjustment.
Two police vehicles suddenly appeared in the next intersection and announced that most of the city was blacked out and they were instituting a curfew for 8pm. If workers with night jobs still had to go to work, their employer was to give them a pass.
"I bet a lot of places can get gas generators going or something like that," Michael stated. "It's not like..."
Claire heard a blast from behind and felt her hat fly off her head and onto her left knee.
"Oh, no! It's that guy again...hold on!" Michael yelled out.
The motorcycle that had been chasing them back on 2nd Avenue was maybe forty yards away.
Michael entered the intersection and headed for the other side of the Lexington.
"Are you hurt?" he shouted back at Claire.
"No, he got the rim of my hat...it was that close!"
They had to cut off a delivery van as they zoomed over to the eastern side of Lexington, making the van driver slam on his breaks to keep from running over them.
A loud expletive emerged from the van.
The shotgun blast caught the attention of the police officers in the squad cars who quickly responded.
Two cops ran behind the next car in line and started to shout to Mr. Shotgun.
"Put your weapon down!" they yelled out.
Claire saw the guy turn around head back up the sidewalk, against the traffic. Would he just circle around and try to get in front of them somehow?
Michael took no time at all to move the bike up to the next intersection.
He looked back at Claire. "We can't stay on Lex because this guy isn't giving up and we need to move quicker than we are. So, I say let's make this left and try the FDR.
Claire nodded. Mr. Shotgun dude had missed twice already and she preferred not to make a third time the charm.
Michael did take the next left and it took about ten minutes to get over to the FDR where traffic was moving much faster than on the avenues.
As Claire held tightly to Michael, she began to think about Lauren and her fate. Whoever these guys were, they clearly were not giving up, so did that mean they might use Lauren to draw her out? No such call had come yet, but a 'come to us or we'll kill your friend' threat was certainly possible.
Then, it dawned on her. These guys didn't know Lauren's last name, so unless the doorman gave it up as well as the apartment number, they probably just followed Lauren back to her building and waited outside for Claire to show up. She couldn't call Lauren and warn her without the bad guys picking up her location on the FDR. It was too damn bad that Michael didn't carry a cell phone. Otherwise, he could call her and tell her to use the maintenance door exit and not to come back to the apartment for a while.
As for cash, Claire was carrying sixty dollars which probably could feed her for a while but wouldn't nearly be enough for a hotel room. Did this organization after her have access to her credit cards? Probably not, unless they were government. Could Rick Waltman's team move that quickly?
In short time, Michael found Avenue A and Luigi's restaurant was practically right around the corner.
THE BOOK DANIEL'S END CAN BE FOUND HERE
http://www.amazon.com/Daniels-End-TG-...
“Her blood pressure is eighty over fifty and her injuries are the craziest I’ve ever seen…whatever it was went straight through the wrists.”
“Doc, when is she going to wake up? I got two dead on the 7 line that folks are saying she caused.”
“What? This woman caused two deaths? How’s that possible?” the doctor queried.
Claire Rogers slowly opened her eyes before realizing that the conversation she just woke to was taking place to her left behind a white curtain.
Both arms were on fire from her elbows down to her fingers and the small room smelled like toilet cleaner. She struggled to sit up on the squeaky gurney but managed to get a good look at her wrists.
“No!” she whispered loudly as she pulled back her bandages. Both wrists looked to be a bloody mess, not like a suicidal slicing result but more of an impalement from a spike of some sort.
How the hell did she kill two people on the stupid 7 line? The guy talking to the doctor had to be a cop of some sort and Claire definitely didn’t want to talk with the cops. She struggled to remember getting on the 7 line, but, after that point, it was a blank before waking up moments earlier. She really wanted to talk with the doctor alone, but the cop was making that difficult. Claire wished that Lauren, her best friend was with her and planned on calling her soon. She looked around the room to see anything that could tell her what hospital she was in. She would need that before she talked with Lauren.
The cop talking with Claire’s doctor continued to press. “That’s why I need to talk with your patient as soon as we possibly can!”
Claire closed her eyes and really tried to focus on her getting on the subway car. Certainly, she’d remember something like killing two people. Nothing but a blank came to her mind, though. She kept her eyes closed because if she faked sleeping, maybe the cop would leave the room and she could talk with the doctor alone.
“Look, she may be out for a couple of hours,” the doctor answered. “We just don’t know right now.”
Claire heard a door behind the curtain swing open.
“Sir! You cannot be in here!” one of the men behind the curtain asserted.
“Where is the girl?” a deep, Indian accented voice respond.
“Sir, you must leave!”
This was bad. Something inside of Claire made her quickly yank off the wires hooked up to her. She spotted her backpack on the table to her right.
“Where is the girl from the subway!”
Claire franticly decided to hide in the room five feet from her backpack, and, as she hopped onto the floor, she heard the soft sound of a silencer firing three or four times.
Flying over to the door, Claire burst into the room. It had very dim lighting but Claire wasn’t about to flick on the main lights. She had to hide. Fast.
She heard the curtain open wildly, reinforcing her assessment that there was little time to find that hiding spot. The room looked to be filled with large medical equipment, creating a kind of maze like pathway. The one window had two cabinets against it, thus allowing very little light.
She ducked down and started to make her way across the room. Veering to her right, away from the door made the most sense. Claire was behind a mobile lighting station when the door that she had come through opened slowly. Her heart rammed against her chest as she crouched down behind the station. She thought about sitting on the floor but figured that might create some noise. Claire’s right knee had been bothering her since last Thursday’s stumble at the Blue Nile dance club, so she didn’t know how long she could stay crouched down before shifting and possibly alerting the Indian and his silencer.
Suddenly, she heard shots coming out of that silencer. Five or six. Then a reload. They seemed to be whizzing right over her head.
“I know you’re in here, lady…”
Loud screaming started from the other room, making it clear that the killer’s victims had been discovered.
The man quickly closed the door. He didn’t move at first, but then began hustling along the wall opposite from Claire’s position.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you…real soon…you can count on that!”
The man fired a few more shots around the room before fumbling for a door handle; a burst of light flooded the room as the killer exited. Figuring that that particular door led out into the main hallway, Claire sat down against the lighting station. She would wait there for a few minutes.
Who the hell was this guy and why did he want to kill her? Did someone cause injuries to her wrists and then hire a hit man because that someone didn’t want to be found out? As nuts as that sounded, the past few hours would easily fall into the nuts category, so Claire didn’t rule it out. And who else knew she was in the hospital and would there be more hit men? One thing was for sure. She needed to get out of there and get far away from the kill zone which was her in that hospital bed.
She held up her wrists into the dim light of the room. The size of a nickel, the holes looked to bloody up before clearing away for a clean see through…in an alternating kind of way. Every three or four seconds. Only, the blood, when it cleared, didn’t pour out of her like one would think. It just sucked back into the tissue.
“This can’t be happening!” Claire muttered while slamming her foot on the floor. “Not me! Not me!”
TWO
Claire Rogers was 21, 5’7, 127. Her one year anniversary living in New York City was two weeks ago. Long gone was the girl from Omaha stepping off the bus at Port Authority with eyes so wide it was amazing she wasn’t taken for every cent within 24 hours. Aunt Libby, Claire’s guardian for sixteen years, died fourteen months ago and left her niece $30,000. Claire was damn proud to have over 2/3 of that windfall left after more than a year in New York. She didn’t want to be a Broadway star, but instead sought the second most challenging career of model and fashion photographer.
“Lauren…you have to help me!” Claire whispered into her phone. “I blacked out on the 7 line and I ended up at Bellevue.”
“Bellevue?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah, Bellevue!”
Claire was staring at an address sticker on the lighting station.
“Can you meet me outside one of the entrances in like fifteen minutes?”
“Uh, sure,” Lauren responded. “I was actually on my way downtown to pick up a box of stuff for Walter, so yeah, fifteen minutes should work.”
Lauren worked at a tiny ad agency that Walter Michaels owned.
“Great! I’ll tell and show you everything then!” Claire confirmed.
She thought about taking a picture of her wounds with her smart phone and sending them to Lauren, but figured that might slow her transport downtown somehow. She knew she could trust Lauren with anything but the pit in her stomach seemed to be telling her that this ordeal was going to push that trust to the brink.
Claire slowly stood up and leaned against the lighting station as she felt a tad light headed. She knew it was pure luck to have woken up when she did. During the conversation behind the hospital curtain, the non-doctor guy was talking about her causing the deaths of two people on the 7 line; and that’s why he wanted the doctor to wake Claire up. In this social media age, Claire realized that someone had to have video of the incident. She remembered getting on the 7 line and riding it for a bit, but then the next thing she could remember was waking up in the hospital. So, clearly, she had to have gotten the wounds on the train and blacked out.
“But, then, how the heck could I have killed anybody all blacked out like that?” Claire wondered aloud.
Claire found her grey hoodie in her backpack. As she slowly pulled the hoodie over her torso, Claire thought about the model Angie Stevens and the bone she had been throwing Claire the past month. When a model finds a photographer she likes, she sticks with that photographer; and, if that model gets hot, so it goes for the photographer. And hot it was for Angie lately.
Her wounds needed some bandages which prompted a hurried search for a medical cabinet of some sort. What sounded like cops on their walkie talkies could be heard just outside the door Indian silencer guy had used.
Claire found some large bandages on top of a table a few feet from the lighting station and managed to wrap them around her wrist.
“Oh, this is going to get infected in a day,” she whispered to herself while finishing up the taping job.
Claire quickly slid through the door to the main hallway and walked as fast as she could to the elevators. She didn’t even know what floor she was on. Claire thought about pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over her head but figured that might draw more attention, so she left it hanging in the back for now.
The center elevator door opened just before Claire heard,
“Ms. Rogers! We need to speak to you!”
Claire dove to the side of the empty elevator out of view from whoever was calling after her and began hitting the ‘close door’ button madly.
Thundering footsteps rushing toward the elevator dominated her senses but the doors shut quickly. The elevator stopped at the lobby of the hospital which was far more crowded than she expected. The front main entrance to the hospital was out of the question, so Claire looked down the hospital hallway toward another, less prominent entrance. A large man with a ZZ top style red beard bumped into her.
“Sorry ma’am,” he uttered before hustling away.
The jostling set alive the pain sensation from Claire’s wrists.
She quickly headed past the visitors center to the exit on the south side of the building. The hoodie was now pulled over her head.
With her phone in hand, she texted Lauren:
Meet me at corner 1st and 26th. Corner diagonal to Bellevue.
The exit left her on 26th street, east of the corner she told Lauren but she wanted to scan the area and make sure the silencer wielding Indian guy wasn’t around.
“I’d wait around for me outside if I were him,” Claire muttered to herself.
The sunlight nearly blinded her as she tried to study the vibe in the area around the corner to the west. She didn’t want to rush up there without abandon, so she glanced at her phone. Lauren had texted back:
Be there in 4 mins
Claire crossed 26th street and looked around to see if she got anyone’s attention. She figured she couldn’t stay close to the hospital for long, especially if those chasing her into the elevator were cops.
Two large men in suits burst through the hospital exit causing Claire to spin and hurry up 26th street toward 1st avenue. If only she had eyes in the back of her hoodie, but she didn’t dare look back until she got to the cross street.
A group of tourists with an enormous map rounded the corner, making Claire swerve out onto the street to avoid a crash.
She felt a hand grab her arm. It was one of the tourists.
“Didn’t mean to knock you out of the way,” the tourist offered.
Claire winced a smile. “No worries.”
She wanted to kick the guy in the groin for grabbing her arm like that but sprinted up to the corner instead. The men in suits were nowhere in sight.
Claire crossed 1st avenue to the southwest corner.
Happy Town deli was on the corner and she thought it might be smart to duck inside there and wait for Lauren. The deli had a pickle barrel right by the door and the smell wiped the pain away from Claire’s aching body. At least for a moment or two.
She sat at the counter running along the window facing 26th street.
“Can I get you anything, sweetie?” a waitress with grey hair in a bun asked softly.
“Umm…can I get a diet coke?”
The waitress smiled. “Sure thing, doll.”
A group of teens blasted through the deli’s door, laughing up a storm. They sat at the counter behind Claire, loudly talking about one of their teachers. Something about a dance move he showed them.
Claire looked around and didn’t spot the waitress. Glancing again at her phone, she thought about leaving. Was it a mistake to have Lauren meet her so close to the hospital? In any case, she would be very firm with Lauren that they needed to get as far away from the hospital block…and fast.
Two of the teens started to stare at Claire, whispering to each other and looking at their cell phones.
Finally, the diet coke arrived; served by a man with a dark haired pony tail, blue jeans and a black turtle neck.
“It’s on the house,” he offered with a smile. “You okay?”
Claire looked up at the man. “I’m good…thanks.”
She didn’t have a photo shoot that day, something that Claire had come to cherish. Angie had her running all around the metro area for the past couple of weeks. Angie was from Iowa and that Midwest connection definitely helped nurture their relationship. Her younger brother, Robbie, was visiting the past week, but that didn’t seem to slow Angie down.
Claire picked up the soda can and noticed a piece of paper underneath. The dark haired pony tailed guy must have left it.
‘Get out of here right now!’ the note said.
She stood up from her stool and quickly gave the deli a glance to see if anyone was rushing toward her. Nothing. If the past twenty minutes hadn’t just happened, maybe Claire would have asked the waiter for the meaning of such a note, but people were after her, and those people could easily be in the deli.
Leaving the soda on the counter, Claire rushed out of the deli
Claire’s cell phone rang as her feet hit the sidewalk.
“Hello?”
She glanced back at the deli to see if anybody was following her.
“Claire Rogers?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Come meet me about halfway down 26th street, Claire,” the male voice continued. “Hustle up!”
“Jonathan, is that you?” Claire asked in an annoyed way.
Jonathan Gratie was Angie’s assistant and had a really deep voice like the male talking to Claire’s phone.
“So, how do I know you aren’t the one chasing me from the hospital? There was a guy with a silencer trying to kill me back there…”
Suddenly, screaming rang out from inside the deli, so Claire began running west on 26th street as fast as she could..
“You have a birthmark right below your hairline…that’s why you wear your hair long.”
Claire hadn’t shown anybody that birthmark since she got to the New York,
“You still there?” she yelled into the phone.
“I see I got your attention,” the male responded. “Now hold on…”
She was more than a quarter way across the block when a blinding light came out of nowhere and stopped her in her tracks.
Out from the light, a man emerged in front of Claire. 6’5, Caucasian with blond flowing hair, the man reached for Claire’s hand.
“I’m Raphael, the archangel,” he announced.
Claire shot back. “What? You’re….uh….kind of….um…an angel?”
Right… Who was this guy kidding? In New York City, there was a nutso on every corner saying something crazy like that.
Her face suddenly started to become intensely hot which made her back away from Raphael even more.
Claire reached for her face but it was too hot for the touch and she started yelling out in pain.
Raphael took her by the arms. “I have to leave you now. You’re not ready for me yet…and you will burn up if I stay.”
Claire suddenly noticed the Indian guy with the silencer running toward them from across the street.
Raphael raised his arm and a glowing sphere shot out from him. The Indian assassin tried to avoid the attack but the sphere went clear through his abdomen and disappeared into the air. The assassin collapsed in the middle of 26h street before turning into a pile of dust.
Beginning to cry, Claire turned her face turned toward the sidewalk. Maybe this guy was the Angel Raphael after all.
The angel picked her up and put her in a cab that had pulled up.
“St. Peter’s on West 20th,” he told the driver before giving him some cash.
Claire flung the passenger door back open as the angel was closing it.
“So, where were you in the hospital back there?” Claire pressed. “I mean, that was a touch and go situation with that guy bursting into the hospital room as I’m lying innocently in the bed. I could’ve easily been killed and…”
Raphael started to lean into the cab but pulled back. “Well, I woke you up in time for you escape.”
“You woke me up in time?” Claire shouted. “How about bursting in the hospital room and taking this guy out like you just did here on the street?”
The angel chuckled and tapped the top of the cab gently. “Oh, I was there and I made it such that he couldn’t find you in the room you were hiding in. Believe me, I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”
Claire put her head back onto the seat. “Okay, okay…I didn’t mean to challenge you
“Claire, I will find you in a bit…do not leave the church until I talk to you again. There are a number of threats against you, so do as I say. ”
The cab sped off and Claire turned to look through the back window; Raphael was gone.
Her face turned back to normal which was confirmed by her compact mirror.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered softly.
If this archangel was her protector, he had a strange way of showing it. Why hadn’t he taken out the assassin long before the 26th street showdown? He could have waited for the assassin to run out of the hospital and taken him out right there. Why the whole drama around the deli soda and the very public shooting of the assassin?
And where were his wings?
She knew one thing, though; the pain in her wrists went completely away when Raphael was present. Claire noticed that even with her face on fire like it was.
Somehow, Raphael knew she was in the deli, like he was watching her from the street. But if there was a killer in the deli, they probably would have kept Claire from walking out.
Her mind was racing so fast, she closed her eyes and sunk them into her hands.
Maybe she could be around Raphael if she didn’t look at him. She could keep her back toward him at all times. Or would her back, then, start to feel iron hot like her face did?
She felt her phone shake. A message from Lauren.
Girl, where are you? You have me freaking out!
Claire started to type a reply saying to meet her at the church but it dawned on her that someone bad might follow her to St. Peter’s.
So, the reply was changed to: Don’t be freaking out, I am fine. I shouldn’t have bothered you….love you!”
Not two seconds went by before Claire’s phone started ringing.
“You know, you have never called this phone before,” Claire told her friend Lauren.
“Well, I didn’t know if you were tied up by some evil killer dude and it was him texting me back…you really got me worried…and I hate to worry. I am not my mother…”
Claire chuckled, which felt really weird given all that had happened in the last ten minutes.
“I know you’re not your mother, so don’t worry and I’ll stop by your pad in a few hours…”
“What happened to the guy trying to kill you….”
“Oh, I think I was still a little high from the drugs, that’s all.”
“Uh huh…well, folks were screaming out of the deli when I got there and I knew enough not to stick around; but that only made my worry for you clime sky high. So, it’s good to hear you safe, that’s all. Anyway, I guess I’ll see you when I see you, girl.”
“Ciao!” Claire replied.
She sat back in the cab and realized that Angie hadn’t texted her anything about tomorrow, which probably meant that Claire had another day off. She hadn’t had two days off during a work week in five months. But this was a good thing. Maybe Raphael could heal her wounds. Maybe he could work on his human contact demeanor and become way less fiery. Maybe he might tell her what the hell was going on; like why were folks trying to kill her. Too many maybes.
Claire Rogers didn’t know anything about religion. Never went to Sunday school or got confirmed or anything of that ilk. She knew other kids who went to church and all that, but that just wasn’t her family’s thing.
Lauren was one of those church girls, and had a small crucifix in her apartment. She never really talked about it, though, and Claire never brought it up. She did know, though, that Lauren volunteered to teach some kids in Harlem two weeknights a week.
Yet, from the moment that Claire woke up in that hospital bed, she knew exactly what the holes in her wrists were. At least what they looked like, anyway. What they meant for her and why she was chosen…well, that was going to have to come from Raphael.
Her stomach growled and Claire realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since early morning. She wasn’t a fan of eating a big lunch, but she knew she had to eat something soon.
As the cab pulled up to St. Peter’s, Claire spotted a pizzeria down the block. She watched the cab drive away after dropping her off. Just to make sure she hadn’t drawn this cabbie’s interest in her peculiar situation. Claire ran over to the pizzeria to find the place empty. They were taking a fresh sausage pie out of the oven, so she asked for a slice of that pie. And a diet coke.
THREE
Claire exited the pizzeria and immediately heard the guy a block away.
“Watch out humanity, the end days are near and the anti-Christ is coming…beware the anti-Christ! Straighten your ways, straighten your ways!”
The man with long grey hair was wearing a black trench coat and looked like a total fit for the creepy subway platforms New York was famous for. He was standing right outside the church steps. Claire could also see very faded blue jeans underneath the trench coat.
He wasn’t standing there when Claire arrived thirteen minutes earlier.
“Oh, this day is getting better and better!” Claire thought to herself.
Claire took a deep breath and quickly walked toward St. Peter’s. She didn’t get ten yards before the guy whipped his head around and stared in silence.
She decided to walk behind him and approach the stairs from the side. When she was on the stairs, he turned to her.
“The chosen ones will see all, young lady. You’re special, aren’t you?”
Claire glanced back at him and noticed he was smiling…sort of.
Just then, she heard screams from the street.
“The President’s been shot!” a older woman exclaimed as she exited the church.
She looked right at Claire. “They’re saying he and his advisors were on Marine One and it got attacked by a missile. That brought it down on the ground and heavily armed men ran up to the helicopter and shot everybody on it.”
“Oh, no!” Claire yelled out followed by her hand over her mouth.
Several people on the street were now screaming with their cell phones in hand.
“Judgment day is coming some!” the creepy man in the trench coat announced. “This is only the beginning!”
Claire whipped out her phone and hit the CNN app. A photo of the burning helicopter was the attached to the story which read almost exactly like she had just heard from the older woman.
A group of bikers got the whole thing on video, albeit from pretty far away. The chopper lands really hard and has flames coming out the front section following the missile attack. Then a white van pulls up and heavily armed men open fire on the chopper. After maybe thirty seconds, one of them opens the door to Marine One and begins firing on the inside for maybe ten seconds before the white van drives off. End of video.
“Now that lunatic Waltman becomes President!” a young man yelled out on the street.
Rick Waltman was a member of the Illuminati Party that had come out of nowhere three congressional elections ago and performed exceedingly well. So well, that President Clark, a democrat, had no choice but to have Waltman on the ticket the last presidential election. They won in a landslide.
After the most recent congressional election, the Illuminati Party controlled 25% of the House and just under 20% of the Senate.
Profoundly atheist and accused of seeking the advancement of a global government, the Illuminati Party promoted a national healthcare policy like the rest of the world, a 65% federal tax on the top 2% of wealth in the U.S., three year term limits on congressional members and a 30% slashing of the defense budget. Not an official part of the party line, but the removal of the tax free status of churches was feared to be lurking behind the scenes.
Claire ducked inside the church and ran over to the back pew. Twitter was alive with people talking about Rick Waltman. Many were saying that he was behind the assassination.
The church was profoundly quiet and Claire didn’t see anybody around. She sat down over by some lit candles. Her new angel friend would be there soon. Maybe.
One key question was rattling around in her brain: If this angel has all these heavenly powers, how come he can’t figure out how to not make me burn up when I’m around him?
Suddenly, two people emerged over by where the pews began in the front. One of them was a minister.
“Pastor, you cannot call off the service!” an older woman with long dark hair and wearing a loud flowery dress asserted.
“Lisa, I have to think about security of the people and the best thing for everybody is to hunker down, lay low and wait for things to stabilize. ‘Cause right now, things are anything but stable…”
The woman grabbed the minister’s arm. “But that’s exactly why we all need prayer and to be together…for times like this!”
The minister sat down in the front pew. “I don’t know…I just don’t know, Lisa.”
The woman showed the minister her phone. “Look, all these folks on Facebook are asking about the service at 5:30…Pastor, please…they all need you right now.”
“All right…all right!” the minister yelled out with a wave of his arms. “Tell everybody on Facebook that the service is still on…help me God with this call.”
The minister took a step down the aisle. “Oh, Lisa, Michael is back outside scary the poor folks…I don’t want to talk to him, so could you go out there and ask him nicely to tone down his rhetoric? The end of the world is not coming any time soon.”
He acted like he didn’t even see Claire sitting over by the candles. The minister turned and walked back to where he and Lisa had entered.
Lisa hustled to the front door of the church and asked Michael to come inside for a talk.
“Uh, Michael, Pastor Mike, doesn’t want you scaring all folks about the end of days…so could you tone it down, just a little?”
Michael took a step back. “Now, Lisa, I’ll get off the church steps and move to the sidewalk, but this is the land of free speech last time I checked, so…”
Lisa waved both arms in front of her. “Okay…okay! The sidewalk will do just fine…but don’t be blocking the folks coming in here for the service.”
Michael bowed to Lisa. “Thank you much!”
He turned and bolted out of the church.
Lisa sighed loudly before noticing Claire.
“Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there,” she began.
“I just came in to think,” Claire responded. “It’s so quiet in here…and crazy out there with all that’s happened.”
Lisa sat down next to Claire. “I know, right? This country is moving down a very dangerous path. Rick Waltman is our new President and that is a very scary thing.”
Claire chuckled. Part of her wanted so badly to show this woman she just met her wounds and talk about her new angel friend. The other sane part said, of course, said ‘not on your life!’
“So, are you and that Minister good friends?” Claire asked. “He sure seems to listen to you…”
“Pastor Mike? No, not really…well…I do help out at this church a lot and we do end up talking about things, so maybe we are friendly…he is a very blessed man, I’ll tell you that much.”
Lisa put her hand on Claire’s knee. “I have to leave and run some errands this afternoon. It was nice to meet you….”
“Claire Rogers...it was nice to meet you to…”
“Lisa Hunter.”
They shook hands and Lisa left through the front door of the church.
Claire sat back in the pew. Going back to her apartment would be a totally stupid move, she realized, but that apartment was normalcy to her and the past hour had moved so fast with the abnormal - acid trip style.
The bandages had yet to bleed through, which was kind of a shock, and the pain was mildly pulsating.
She picked up her phone, before wondering why the Angel Raphael had sent her to the cathedral. If he wanted to meet her there, he surely would’ve done so already. Was the meeting with Lisa in the plan? Claire began to rub her temples in an attempt to calm her thoughts. After a minute or so, she focused again on her phone.
Can I meet you at your apartment? Claire texted to Lauren. They could grab dinner at The Hive, a hole in the wall burger joint on 2nd avenue near Lauren’s place. Claire really hoped that her friend didn’t draw any attention at the deli, though the place sure seemed to be in chaos mode when she got there.
Sure, sounds awesome! Can I meet you there in 30? Lauren replied.
You bet…How about The Hive?
I thought you’d never ask.
Claire put her phone away. It was still too early for dinner, but it would be nice to sit in Lauren’s apartment and talk. The transport plan was the E line over to the 4,5,6 and up the east side. A guy down the block was on the sidewalk selling hats and scarves…good for hiding on the run.
She stood up from the pew and walked out of the church.
Michael was nowhere in sight. Maybe Rick Waltman’s gang silenced him.
Claire walked up to the hat and scarf display and pick out a Mets baseball cap.
Suddenly, she heard a loud crash up ahead. At least four cars were piled up at the intersection and it became clear the traffic light was out.
“The whole block has lost power!” someone screamed out behind Claire.
She paid the man selling the hats and started to run down the block away from the car crash and toward the church. Something was telling her to get the heck out of there.
People were scrambling around the streets now, acting very weird and looking like looting could start any second.
Claire ran to the block north of the church, 9th Avenue and 21st street, and almost crashed into a motorcycle with Michael, the loud preacher, on it.
“Get on, you can’t be anywhere near here!” he yelled out.
Claire looked at Michael and shook her head. “What the heck is going on?”
She knew the subway likely was a mess, and probably not running, and hailing a cab could take forever, so she hopped onto the back of the bike.
Michael soared the motorcycle up the west side, weaving between the traffic. The traffic lights were out all the way up 8th avenue. They had gotten to about 50th street when Michael pulled the bike over on the sidewalk. Claire hopped off to stretch.
“You’re the special one…I just know it,” Michael declared firmly.
“The special one?” Claire shot back. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Let me see your wrists,” Michael demanded.
“Why?” Claire answered defensively.
“Because the special one has been marked…”
Claire held out her left hand in front of Michael and slowly pulled back the bandage.
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Michael yelled out. “You are the one!”
He then looked around to see if anybody was paying them any attention. Nobody was…at least from what they could tell.
“Okay, so what is so special about this?”
“Have you ever read the Book of Daniel...in the bible?” Michael asked slowly.
Claire shook her head no.
Michael sighed. “All right. so, in the Book of Daniel, the prophecy calls for a seven year period of tribulation after the Anti-Christ takes over the world. I really believe that Rick Waltman is the Anti-Christ.”
Claire laughed. “Oh, come on! You don’t really believe all that bible stuff do you?”
Michael grabbed her hand. “Honey, I am not the one with the marks of Jesus Christ on my wrists…so you better start believing and fast!”
Claire pulled her hand back. “Okay, okay…go on.”
“So, we will know if Rick Waltman is the anti-Christ if he signs a seven year support agreement with Israel.”
“Support agreement?” Claire asked. “I guess I’m not getting the Israel angle here.”
“Well, this agreement would call for the support for the re-building of the new Israel temple.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “All of this is in the Book of Daniel?”
“Yes, and the Book of Revelation as well.”
“Damn...so, what does this have to do with me?”
“Well, the chosen one is to lead all Christians during the tribulation which I believe will involve the opening of Hell to mankind.”
“What?” Claire asked with a firm voice.
“Just know that if Waltman signs any kind of new agreement with Israel and it happens to be for seven years, things are going to get really bad on this earth.”
“So, why would God pick me, someone who doesn’t believe in Jesus and all of that?”
Claire demanded.
Michael sighed again. “That is one very good mystery…I don’t have an answer for you on that one…but those wounds, lady, are the marks of Jesus for sure.”
“And this is end of the world stuff, right?”
“Oh, yeah…the very bitter end.”
Claire started to cry. “This is all too overwhelming…I just need to see my friend, Lauren, right now and settle my mind a bit. Can we head over to the east side?”
Just then, she realized that the Angel Raphael had told her to stay at the church and wait for him there. She thought about telling Michael this, but decided to hold off for now.
‘The angel can find me anywhere if he really wants to,’ Claire reasoned.
Michael hopped off the motorcycle to give her a hug. He smelled like vanilla. After a few seconds, they were back on bike and heading up to 57th street to crossover to the east side.
The 57th street stores and traffic lights were totally dark, drawing several policemen on horses out trying to keep the peace.
With Michael darting through the traffic, Claire began imagining what the opening of Hell on earth would look like. Zombie-like creatures for sure would fill the streets, once human but since damned to the netherworld. Corporations would collapse as would the world economies. Would her cell phone stop working? Would cars even run? The weak surely wouldn’t survive.
Lauren’s place was on 78th street between 3rd and 2nd. Apartment 5B, complete with a doorman. As best they could tell, the east side was just as blacked out as the west. It was a little after 4:00 in the afternoon.
As Claire hopped off the back of Michael’s motorcycle, he reached for her left hand.
“This is where you’ll be staying?” he pressed.
Claire shook her head yes. “Can I find you at…”
“You need to go somewhere on the lower east side,” Michael inserted. “Why don’t we leave the address in your phone?”
Claire pulled out her phone. “Okay, let me have it.”
“Now, this guy’s a former Catholic minister who’s a Stigmata expert as well as being very prepared for the seven year tribulation period. He told me last week that the special one would be emerging quite soon…and look at you right here…amazing!”
“Yeah, yeah…what’s the address?”
“327 Avenue A, above Luigi’s Café, apartment 2A…his name is Roberto.”
Claire typed all of that information into her phone.
“Now, he kind of sounds like a crazy, nut job…if you ask me, but Lauren and I will go see him.”
Michael put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s no crazier than I am.”
“Oh, that’s super comforting…thanks.”
“So, you haven’t told me yet where you got the wounds because…”
Claire folded her arms. “I was on the subway when I saw this huge flash of light and then felt enormous pain in my wrists. Then I must’ve passed out since that’s all that I remember...but I overheard a cop in the hospital saying two people died on account of me and, for the life of me, I have no idea how that could’ve happened.”
Michael’s eyebrows lowered. “Some people died...that is intriguing.”
Just then, Claire noticed a guy with dark sunglasses speaking into shoulder mike. He was staring right them.
“You see that guy over there?” Claire whispered.
“Yup, we gotta get out of here…right now!”
Claire jumped back onto motorcycle and Michael zoomed off. The guy with the sunglasses was running down the street after them. The bike hadn’t traveled two blocks on 2nd avenue when another motorcycle began chasing them. Michael turned the bike onto the sidewalk, passing under some building scaffolding. The chasing bike followed suit. The driver of that motorcycle had a dark helmet on.
A shotgun blast whizzed past them, forcing Michael back onto the street where traffic was crazy heavy. With the lights out, vehicles alternated going through the light one at a time. It was 75th street’s turn to pass through when Michael and Claire arrived but Michael sped on through, narrowly missing a FedEx truck. Michael made a quick turn right down the south side of 75th street and darted in front of the FedEx vehicle. More scaffolding was on the north side of the street, so Michael sped under the platform, heading west.
Claire looked back and didn’t see the shotgun wielding assassin. A homeless man with a shopping cart filled with cans scooted out of an alley and almost slammed into them. They managed to get over to Lexington Avenue in decent time before Michael pulled the bike over.
“Should we head south?”
“I need to call Lauren because they clearly knew of her and figured that I might show up at her apartment. I hope she’s okay…”
Michael slammed the front of the motorcycle with his fist. “They probably hacked into your phone and tracked your conversations and texts with her.”
“How does someone like you know about cell phone hacking? Remember, you’re a scary preacher dude standing outside a major cathedral, warning of eternal damnation. You shouldn’t be up on all this techie stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t know…I was in Times Square a few weeks back and they had world news written on one of the big electronic boards they have, so one of them was talking about criminals hacking into cell phones…I mean, you ask a legitimate question but that’s where I get most of my info on the what is happening in the world…”
Claire laughed. “From the Time Square boards…Oh, now that is rich!”
Michael looked right at her. “We have to keep moving.”
Mr. shotgun dude couldn’t be far behind so they shouldn’t take comfort, Claire realized, as she was hopping back onto the bike.
Michael made a quick left onto Lexington and headed the bike over to the west side of the road. Claire kept on the lookout for the other motorcycle but only spotted trucks and taxi cabs. The sidewalk was too crowded to run the bike along there, so Michael rode up to the next car in line to cross the intersection and simply crossed with it. A cabbie back at 3rd avenue cut them off so they couldn’t do that, but the sidewalk was clear enough, fortunately, for the quick adjustment.
Two police vehicles suddenly appeared in the next intersection and announced that most of the city was blacked out and they were instituting a curfew for 8pm. If workers with night jobs still had to go to work, their employer was to give them a pass.
"I bet a lot of places can get gas generators going or something like that," Michael stated. "It's not like..."
Claire heard a blast from behind and felt her hat fly off her head and onto her left knee.
"Oh, no! It's that guy again...hold on!" Michael yelled out.
The motorcycle that had been chasing them back on 2nd Avenue was maybe forty yards away.
Michael entered the intersection and headed for the other side of the Lexington.
"Are you hurt?" he shouted back at Claire.
"No, he got the rim of my hat...it was that close!"
They had to cut off a delivery van as they zoomed over to the eastern side of Lexington, making the van driver slam on his breaks to keep from running over them.
A loud expletive emerged from the van.
The shotgun blast caught the attention of the police officers in the squad cars who quickly responded.
Two cops ran behind the next car in line and started to shout to Mr. Shotgun.
"Put your weapon down!" they yelled out.
Claire saw the guy turn around head back up the sidewalk, against the traffic. Would he just circle around and try to get in front of them somehow?
Michael took no time at all to move the bike up to the next intersection.
He looked back at Claire. "We can't stay on Lex because this guy isn't giving up and we need to move quicker than we are. So, I say let's make this left and try the FDR.
Claire nodded. Mr. Shotgun dude had missed twice already and she preferred not to make a third time the charm.
Michael did take the next left and it took about ten minutes to get over to the FDR where traffic was moving much faster than on the avenues.
As Claire held tightly to Michael, she began to think about Lauren and her fate. Whoever these guys were, they clearly were not giving up, so did that mean they might use Lauren to draw her out? No such call had come yet, but a 'come to us or we'll kill your friend' threat was certainly possible.
Then, it dawned on her. These guys didn't know Lauren's last name, so unless the doorman gave it up as well as the apartment number, they probably just followed Lauren back to her building and waited outside for Claire to show up. She couldn't call Lauren and warn her without the bad guys picking up her location on the FDR. It was too damn bad that Michael didn't carry a cell phone. Otherwise, he could call her and tell her to use the maintenance door exit and not to come back to the apartment for a while.
As for cash, Claire was carrying sixty dollars which probably could feed her for a while but wouldn't nearly be enough for a hotel room. Did this organization after her have access to her credit cards? Probably not, unless they were government. Could Rick Waltman's team move that quickly?
In short time, Michael found Avenue A and Luigi's restaurant was practically right around the corner.
THE BOOK DANIEL'S END CAN BE FOUND HERE
http://www.amazon.com/Daniels-End-TG-...
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