Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (35 page)

"This is a bad idea," he said. "We could easily get trapped."

"I'd rather be attacked from one direction than two," she said.

There was another corridor on the lowest deck, shorter than the one above but still with plenty of doors.

Captain Job's voice sounded over loudspeakers, "We have armed intruders on board. They are dressed like us. Shoot anybody you don't recognize."

A man stepped out into the corridor with an alarmed expression on his face, and Marina almost tripped over his leg. She left a knife in his stomach for his trouble. He didn't look like he was dying fast enough, so Aaron slashed the man's throat.
This is starting to feel natural
, Aaron thought.
Is that wrong?

The warm tingling sensation in his guts was back. It gave him strength and focus like he had never felt before.
God is pushing me.
The world seemed to slow down.

There was a footstep behind Aaron. Marina swung her AK-47 around. He barely had time to duck before she cut loose with a burst of fire. He turned and saw she had shot a man several times in the face.

The sound of a gunshot came from a room beyond an open doorway. Marina stumbled backwards, obviously hit. Aaron ran to the doorway, spotted her assailant, and pulled the trigger of his own assault rifle. A spray of bullets turned the man's chest into a bloody mess.

Aaron looked back at Marina. She was leaning awkwardly against a wall with a hand on her hip. Blood dripped through her fingers.

"Let me take a look," he said.

She lifted her hand to reveal an ugly, deep wound.

"It's not bleeding too bad," he said. "You'll live if we can get you to a doctor. Can you walk?"

She tried to take a step, gasped, and fell back. "No. Stupid!" She clenched her fists. "I got sloppy for just a second, and now look at me. I'm useless just when I'm needed the most."

"I'll carry you."

"Hell, no! Hide me and leave me behind."

"I can't abandon you," he said.

"We're in the middle of a fucking fight to the death! You can't afford to haul me around like a sack of rocks. Hurry up! They'll be here any second."

He couldn't argue with her logic, no matter how much it bothered him.

He checked a couple more doors and found the weapons locker at last. There were racks of rifles and guns, boxes of ammo, grenades, and even an RPG-7. At least now he would have all the firepower he could carry.

He spotted a large wooden crate with the lid half off. It had Russian markings on the side. He ran over and found it contained some packing peanuts and not much else. Carefully, he carried Marina and placed her in the crate. She only winced softly even though her position was awkward and her wound must've hurt like hell. He kissed her gently on the lips. He gave her a knife and a loaded pistol. Then he put the lid back on, leaving a crack for air.

"Now make me proud," she said.

Aaron looked around the locker. An AA12 caught his eye and made him grin. A fully automatic shotgun designed for urban warfare, the AA12 was capable of delivering 300 rounds-per-minute of 12-gauge mayhem. It was completely illegal for civilians to own. He put down his AK-47 and picked up the bigger, beefier, and much more exciting shotgun. It fit his hands perfectly.

There was a drum magazine, but unfortunately, it was empty. He tore open a box of Remington Express buckshot shells and began to load the magazine. Even though he was pressed for time, he forced himself to be patient. A jammed magazine was the last thing he needed.

He heard soft footsteps in the corridor.
Not yet. I need more time to load this shotgun
, he thought. He grabbed two grenades from a box, pulled the pins, and threw them down the corridor. He heard the satisfying sound of fearful yelling, followed by even more satisfying explosions. Dust drifted down from the ceiling.

He grabbed another two grenades, counted to twenty, and repeated the attack. Smoke and noise from the first set of grenades would've left the enemy blind and deaf. He expected a few of them would still charge forward heedlessly. More explosions rang the ship's hull like a giant bell. Those reckless soldiers were now dead.

Aaron risked sticking his head out to assess the situation. Seven bodies littered the corridor in various states of dismemberment. The bloody mess was gruesome in the extreme. He felt a twinge of revulsion but not enough to bother him. Perhaps it was just the heat of battle, but he was feeling surprisingly happy. The bizarre and grotesque situation seemed normal to him, as if he had finally found his place in life after many years of searching.
I was born to be a Spear,
he realized.

More people were coming down the stairs at the far end of the corridor. They were being very cautious. Aaron grabbed the RPG-7 and examined the firing mechanism. It seemed simple enough. Apparently, he just aimed and pulled the trigger.
Only one way to find out,
he thought. He jumped into the corridor and fired a rocket at the stairs. A fireball dazzled his eyes and hot wind blew across his bare scalp. When the smoke cleared, burnt and twisted bodies remained. He smiled grimly.

He had a few minutes before the enemy would dare to try another attack. He used the time to finish loading the AA12.

Now he had to make a decision. He could run back up the stairs, blasting anybody who got in his way. The fearsome AA12 was the ideal weapon for clearing out corridors and rooms. However, charging directly into the enemy was a dicey proposition. They would need just one lucky shot to kill him, and he didn't know where that shot might come from. The ship was unfamiliar to him.

The alternative was setting an ambush and letting the enemy come to him. That seemed like a smarter idea. Staying low, he went from door to door, looking for just the right spot to hide. His shots had to come from an unexpected direction to create optimal confusion and panic. Simply crouching in a dark corner wasn't good enough.

He came to the end of the corridor, where a grenade explosion had bent a large metal hatch. Heavy chains and padlocks still held the hatch closed, but he could peek through a gap around the edge. A giant bomb was in the cargo hold beyond. It looked just as elaborate and devastating as the one on the
Scimitar
.

Captain Job would be most concerned about the bomb. He would have to send men to check on it eventually. An ambush was definitely the right choice.

After a moment of consideration, Aaron settled on a plan. He rolled back and forth on one of the corpses to cover his green clothes with fresh blood. Then he laid down on the floor of the corridor, completely exposed. The only precaution he took was hiding the AA12 under the corpse, but he kept his hand on the grip. Now he looked like all the other dead men in the bad lighting.

He waited as minutes crawled by. He didn't dare move a millimeter. His pounding heart sounded like a drumbeat in his ears. The burning sensation in his belly was getting stronger.

His discipline paid off when he heard footsteps. Some crewmen crept right past his position. Aaron was ignored, just as he had hoped. The bad guys were looking at the dark corners instead.

He waited until the crewmen were well past him before he took a peek. There were three men wearing body armor and army helmets. The buckshot wouldn't penetrate Kevlar, which limited the choice of targets.

The crewmen moved down the corridor slowly, checking every room. They were facing the other way. Aaron fired a burst of shells at their unprotected legs. The AA12 made a hellacious amount of noise, but the recoil was very manageable. Small metal balls moving at over a thousand feet per second turned flesh into hamburger instantly. The crewmen turned around, and as soon as Aaron could see their faces, he let loose another long burst. The resulting carnage was horrifying enough to make him turn away briefly.

Still, he had a job to do. He walked over to the enemy to confirm they were dead. One man was actually still alive even though his face was shredded. Aaron put him out of his misery by shooting him in the forehead. Blood and brains splattered the floor.
There can only be a few left
, Aaron thought.
We killed so many.

He looked at the locked hatch. After the killing was done, if he survived, he would have to defuse the bomb. He had no idea how to accomplish that.
One impossible problem at a time.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls around him. Without thinking, he immediately dove through a side door. Once he was safely behind cover, he checked himself for wounds. Blood was dripping down his leg, and he discovered he had been shot in the thigh. There wasn't much pain, but he knew it would come soon.

"Come out with your hands up!" Captain Job yelled from the far end of the corridor. "You're trapped."

Aaron shook his head.
Does he think I'm an idiot?

"I'm holding a remote trigger for the bomb," Job said. "If you don't come out, I'll press the button."

"You'll kill everybody, including yourself!" Aaron yelled.

"Exactly right. We'll all die for Simon in one glorious fireball of righteousness!"

Chapter Twenty-five

"You're bluffing!" Aaron yelled.

"You think so?" Captain Job replied. "The ship is in position. I already dropped anchor and disabled the engines. We're just waiting for nine o'clock, but Simon would forgive me if we detonated early. The crowds on Navy Pier are already packed as tight as they can get."

"Do you understand what will happen? How many innocent people will die?"

"Infidels, all of them. Of course, today's attack is just the start. Simon's ultimate goal is a world war."

"It won't work," Aaron said.

"It
will
work. Muslim terrorists will get blamed, thanks to rumors we spread. War will engulf the Middle-east, leading to ever larger conflicts over oil. The plan is both brilliant and simple. Tomorrow will be the dawn of a new age."

"Which you won't see if you're dead."

"I'll watch from my place of honor in Heaven," Job said in a confident tone, "in the presence of Sraosha."

Aaron considered his options. His AA12 still had some shells in the magazine, but its range was limited. Job was at the far end of the corridor, and Aaron wasn't confident he could get a clean kill at that distance. A mere wounding wasn't good enough. Job would just blow up the ship if he were injured. Aaron also had a revolver, but its accuracy was insufficient. He needed a rifle, but unfortunately, all the rifles were in the weapons locker two doors down.

"But you want to live, don't you?"

"I would prefer to live," Job said, "but I can't leave this ship while you're here, so we'll die together. What happened to your woman?"

"Dead." Aaron delivered the lie forcefully.

"That's the fate of females who pretend to be soldiers. Good riddance."

"Why are you doing this?"

"The human race has grown soft and decadent," Job said. "We bicker and squabble like children while the natural resources of the Earth are squandered. War teaches discipline and unity of purpose. An army is the perfect social system."

"What?" Aaron said. "Have you actually been in a real war? Do you have any idea what it's like?"

"Simon taught us all we need to know. My patience is wearing out. Will you show yourself?"

"So I can get my head shot off?"

"Then I'll press the button," Job said. "A shame. This isn't quite the ending I was hoping for, but it's good enough."

Aaron took a quick peek and then pulled his head back. Shadows and smoke made it hard to see, but it appeared three men were standing at the far end of the corridor about thirty yards away. Aaron couldn't tell what weapons they were carrying.

He didn't have a lot of choices. The only way to prevent Job from blowing up the ship was to keep him talking.

"If I come out, will you promise not to kill me?"

"I can't make that promise," Job said, "but your odds of survival will be greater than zero, which is an improvement. Keep your hands up. No weapons. Don't make any sudden movements. I will not hesitate to die for Simon."

Aaron left his precious AA12 behind, but he hid his revolver under his shirt. He could grab it quickly if an opportunity arose.

Very slowly, he limped into the corridor with his hands up. "I'm coming!" he called out. "I'm unarmed!" A barrage of bullets didn't kill him, so he proceeded down the corridor.

"Who do you work for?" Job said.

"Let me ask you a question first. Why does humanity need 'unity of purpose' so badly? What's wrong with a little variety? Is free will so bad?"

"Our species cannot achieve its glorious destiny until everybody is marching in lockstep."

"What 'glorious destiny?'" Aaron said.

"Have you ever watched an ant colony? Ants can accomplish amazing things despite having brains the size of a pinhead. Now imagine what humans could do with our vastly superior intelligence. We would be masters of creation. Poverty and depravity would be forgotten. We would travel to the stars on beams of white light."

"Maybe, but I don't want to live like an ant. I like having my own opinion."

"That attitude is why the world is falling apart," Job said.

Aaron was half-way down the corridor now. Two men stood in front of Job, both armed with AK-47's, which were aimed directly at Aaron's head. The men shielded Job with their bodies.

The warm tingle in Aaron's guts had grown into an intense burn. The Lord was very close and very angry. Aaron's pulse quickened and he felt powerful in a way no normal man ever could. At that moment, he truly understood what it meant to be a Spear.

"And who gave you the right to decide how everybody else should live?"

"The angel, Sraosha," Job said, "who revealed the truth to Simon."

Aaron cocked his head. "Where did Sraosha get the authority?"

"From God."

"That's very strange." Aaron lowered his hands a little. "Don't you think?"

"Why?"

"Consider the universe that God created. Billions of planets and probably a lot of them have their own forms of life. On Earth alone there are millions of different species. Humans come in so many shapes and colors, cultures and languages. It seems like an awful lot of diversity to me, which can't be an accident. Obviously, God wants exactly the opposite of what you're talking about."