Joe's Black T-Shirt (19 page)

A lone, thin woman with a militant style hair cut stood outside smoking. Whether this was Disciple Danielle wasn’t clear. It was certain though, she had been waiting for Karen.

Before she was halfway to the doors, the woman was hurrying over to greet her. It was reassuring. She had caught every damn red light Watson Road had to offer and found herself constantly behind the slowest drivers. Karen had parked in the spot designated for ‘Visitors’ with four minutes to spare. She had thought she had blown it until this lithe woman came to her, embraced her, and never let her go, guiding her from her car through the double doors.

Inside, a deliberate blackout was enforced interrupted exclusively by candlelight. There wasn’t a single electric light being used although Karen could discern air conditioning regulating the temperature. The sudden coolness in conjunction with the candles soothed her body and mind.

“Thank you for coming,” a woman’s voice spoke to her in the dimness. “I am Disciple Danielle.”

The woman who had greeted her so lovingly in the parking lot passed possession of Karen’s hand to the other woman. Disciple Danielle took an immediate hold, replacing the small woman’s hand with her more bountiful flesh.

The small woman clasped her free hands together and bowed in reverence toward them. Karen realized she didn’t even know the small woman’s name before she was gone somewhere into the dimness.

Visibility, at best, was ten feet in any direction. It was exciting and surreal as the Disciple Danielle led her using the calm strength of her grip and her delicate, whispered voice.

“Now is the hour of meditation. The community is focusing on one thought, as prescribed daily by the Congress of Intercession. Today our singular focus is to project a harmonious tone that will interrupt the world economy tomorrow.”

Karen found it a lofty goal, but more reasonable than world peace.

They passed through long corridors. Disciple Danielle didn’t seem to need any light to find her way. Karen was grateful for the companionship. She didn’t consider herself claustrophobic, but under these circumstances, she couldn’t have moved an inch alone.

Occasionally, they did pass others. Small gatherings of men and women, holding hands, and sitting crisscross applesauce. They seemed normal as she, dressed in casual office attire, resting comfortably on oversized cushions. She hadn’t known what to expect, yet found the group meditations a welcome shock. It was the kind of peace Karen had been seeking her entire life.

Disciple Danielle suddenly stopped. They seemed to have reached a dead end, the nearest light twenty feet behind them, ahead nothing but blackness. When Disciple Danielle released her hand, she almost cried out in fear.

“Now is the time of your choice,” Disciple Danielle said. “You alone must go forward, through the darkness. If you are one of us, you will make it. If you are not, no harm will come to you, but your time here will have been worthless. Do you understand?”

There was a time in Karen’s life when she would have turned around, running to find the building’s exit. She remembered those people meditating, how serene they seemed to be. If she had to do this, she reasoned, then they did too.

“I do,” Karen said.

“Fair thee well, traveler,” Disciple Danielle said and was gone, presumably back the way they had come, possibly watching her from a distance. Either way, Karen was alone, barely able to see behind her, and absolute darkness in front of her.

She took a deep breath before she walked forward. The sound of her breath escaping her body masked the pounding inside her chest. A cold sweat chilled her brow and back.

With her arms held out before her, she walked. It was a genuine surprise to her senses that what she had presumed to be a wall directly in front of her was a curtain. A heavy, velvet material that divided as she passed through it. The instant privacy consumed all her senses. She could not see any longer and her hands, though they reached out, felt nothing. Her feet though were still on the same level ground as when she entered. A small comfort to be sure but reaffirming enough.

On the cusp of becoming an emotional wreck she walked in shuffling, tiny baby steps. The deprivation to her senses was taking a toll. She was sure if she called out for help, she would be rescued, but at what cost? If she overcame, then maybe, finally, her life would have a rejuvenated meaning, something beyond meaningless physical or emotional pleasures. A life of which she was in control and not at its’ mercy.

A tiny dot of light caught her attention. In a charge, she hurried toward it, and fell skinning the palms of her hands. Karen disregarded the pain, stood up, calmed down and started again. Her gait now was a determined, slow stride. She concentrated on the light, wanting it more than anything she ever had before. It occurred to her that this might be insanity, like the illusion of an oasis in the desert. Madness be damned, she thought. It was the only hope she had and she clung to it.

The hole was tiny, but in the darkness, even the slightest light is brilliant. Karen peered through the small opening. Unable to see clearly, she leaned her head as close to the puncture as possible. Karen lost her balance and fell forward, splitting a pair of drapes identical to the ones she had entered through. Determined not to sustain another scraping to her already raw palms, she regained her poise.

Karen was in awe. She had come out into a beautiful Zen garden complete with fountains, burning incents, bouquets of hanging flowers, koi ponds, and a small bridge leading to a chair engraved with the sun and moon headrest. The beauty and serenity was her fantasy come true.

***

In the following weeks and months, Karen thrust herself into all things relevant to the GCP. She read dozens of books on meditation, enlightenment, and the origin of the soul. The subject she found most fascinating though was transcendental meditation. This idea of traveling outside of your body to explore distant places, able to go back and forth in time was astounding. Unlike drugs, there were no residual effects, and it became better each time she experimented with it.

Then, of course, was the tenet to shed worldly possessions. Karen gladly gave away her TV, DVD player, and most of her furniture. With permission from the Jury, she was allowed to retain her bed and car. The hardest thing to give up was her precious laptop. It had been a lifeline for so long it was like turning her back on a close friend.

At work, her concentration faltered to dangerously low levels. She could no longer ignore what she was doing. Writing letters for ball-buster corporate attorneys threatening frivolous lawsuits, that if perused, would destroy their lesser opponents. Memorandums thick as small books outlining the acquisition and dissemination of corporations that would leave hundreds unemployed. Debt collection manuals that instructed operators on how to properly design re-affirmation agreements to restore discharged balances with usury rates certain to repeal any assistance issued by the bankruptcy court.

Is this what she had been doing with a decade of her life? In a futile attempt to keep her newfound serenity, she asked for re-assignment to anywhere else in the company. Upper management issued a quick, thoughtless denial followed in kind by a written reprimand. She was warned that if she continued with such reckless behavior, her termination would be imminent.

Karen took her problem before the Elder Tribunal. They concurred that she had achieved a significant state of enlightenment, and her place was strictly among her own kind. If she so wanted, they would foster her matriculation to discipleship, if in exchange she would renounce all her worldly ties. Without hesitation, Karen agreed.

In a matter of twenty-four hours, Karen sold her car, abandoned her one bedroom studio apartment, and moved with nothing but the clothes on her back into the GCP campus. She had thought about calling work, to inform them of her decision, but decided that it would only continue to support the negative energy they manufactured. It was best to make it a clean break, free of any encumbrances, to have no barriers by which her enlightenment could be swayed.

Alone that evening in her assigned room, an indistinguishable cell from the rest of the community, Karen found peace. She had no worries. Everything from this point on would be provided, as she needed it.

***

Karen received her rank as Disciple one year to the day she entered the private cooperative. Without the distractions of the outside world her ability to excel had no limitations.

With rank came privilege, and she was granted access to a manual typewriter. She wrote several documents cataloguing her transcendental travels that were eventually compiled into a two-volume work upon the recommendation of her master. It was a great honor, much more than Karen could have ever hoped for in her past life. Here, she was a rare flower allowed to bloom and reveal her beauty. She could have gone on living this way into infinity.

Asleep, her master woke her.

“Disciple Karen,” he said loudly, “you need to rise immediately.”

Instantly awake, she put on her shoes. A true disciple never questioned their master. She was curious though as to why she was so urgently needed.

She stood to face him as he placed both his hands on her shoulders, his joy undeniable. “The Great Ones have called your name. You have been chosen to carry out the Supreme Commission.”

Karen understood in full what this meant and pretended to be as happy as her master did. She presumed for her lone disobedience, praying that the thing should not come to pass in her tenure, the universe had singled her out.

***

While the coordinated efforts of “Operation Blackwater” where underway nationwide, Karen trained twelve hours a day for her role in the effort. It was boot camp like drills of physical training, nutritional supplication, small arms instruction, thermodynamics, and self-defense tactics.

The Fifty, as they were referred to, had but one opportunity to accomplish their mission. Each person would not be told the location of their target until returned to their individual communities. It would insure against the possibility of even the slightest information leak.

Karen, in spite of her personal reservations, embraced the program. She did well in all areas, but found a particular intuitiveness for explosives. Rapid decomposition and development of high pressures were akin to her theories on OBE’s (out-of-body-experiences) and she believed proof of the transcendental argument. If she had more time, she could write down what she now understood and convince the Elder Tribunal to avoid this irrevocable solution. Then again, who was she to question their wisdom? If the time was now, then what choice did she have?

***

The community had taken on a transformation in Karen’s absence. She hardly recognized the inner dwelling she had called home.

There was no more library filled with sacred GCP texts. No more meditation garden. The daily ritual seeking oneness with the universe seemed a forgotten ideology. It had become a world of the barest necessities. Hundreds of folding beds littered the Great Hall. Bare bulbs burned incessantly and people, many of which Karen had never seen before, aimlessly wandered. The plain hot meals of oats, rice, and vegetables had all been replaced with surplus food that needed no heat or water.

Karen found it hard to accept. This place for so long had been her sanctuary, a refuge that could not be disturbed. Now it was nothing more than a weigh station that the world would discover soon enough. It saddened her yet renewed her determination to her mission.

***

The newsroom was in a state of flux. People hurried in every direction to answer phones and review the incoming data for even the slightest new information. It was Columbine, Timothy McVey, and Jonestown rolled into one. All other coverage had been suspended. The station dedicated itself to around-the-clock coverage as had every other cable news station. Nobody wanted to be caught doing a filler piece on erectile dysfunction, as another major piece of the story became public knowledge. Until this thing was settled, they would be caught in that continuous loop repeating the story over and over again as the screen filled with horrifying pictures of the dead, the dying, and the destruction God’s Chosen People had extracted on this earth.

A man behind a camera pointed to a well-dressed newscaster at a desk. The newscaster had had the good taste to allow his beard to grow in slightly to show empathy with the audience. In his dressing room, he had liked the handsome appeal he felt the dark stubble lent.

“And in five, four, three, two…”

“Good morning nation. I’m Hugh Engle and as this crisis grips our republic, more information continues to come to light in what is being called the largest, most well organized terrorist action ever constructed.

“We go now live to Berry White in Crestwood, St. Louis, with the latest at what is considered to be this nefarious organization’s headquarters.”

“Thanks, Hugh,” Barry said.

Assured by his cameraman they were clear, Hugh pulled out his cell phone to call his agent. They both have been waiting for an opportunity like this to sell him to one of the major networks.

“The bodies were discovered shortly after four a.m. by the ATF serving a no-knock search warrant. After using a tank to crush in the front doors, agents swarmed the building, but found no resistance. However, inside they did find hundreds dead, victims of a mass suicide. At this point, autopsies are being performed on the multitude of corpses, trying to verify the cause of death. We don’t have an exact body count at this moment, but it is estimated to be in the hundreds. Tractor-trailers and buses have been converted to transport the massive fatalities. We have been told some of the dead did die from self-inflicted injuries, but authorities refused to elaborate.

“The cult known as God’s Chosen People is being held responsible for a death toll estimated in the thousands and damages in the millions. A doomsday cult who believed themselves personally responsible for initiating the biblical prophesies according to the last chapter of the bible better known as Revelation. It is by this action they had hoped to break open what is considered the first seal, bringing forth judgment upon the wicked in preparation toward the Second Coming of Christ.