The Pestilence (12 page)

“I am humbled that so many of you, in our hour of need, have found the space in your hearts and time in your lives to come to the aid of my family. Found the wisdom to look past your differences and found the common ground to come together and work as one. For that you all have my blessings and for everything else you have my love. Thank you.”

***

HAZEL'S timeline logged a surge in activity; one of the Healed had been recording Dalia's speech and she posted it onto the camp's external website. It quickly went viral. Within ten minutes the speech had been viewed 500,000 times. Within an hour the number had reached 10 million. By the next morning, nearly a billion people had heard Dalia speak to the Healed by the fire just outside the village of Haran.

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 12 days. Information source: BBC World News article: Author, Bill Irons.

SALVATION FOR THE HEALED, IMMUNITY FOR ALL

The University of Jerusalem will announce later today the sensational results of a preliminary study on those healed by Samuel Srour. The study has found that the Healed retain a permanent ability to recover from injury and an ongoing immunity to disease and illness.

The Healed now number in their thousands with hundreds more joining their ranks every day as Samuel Srour continues his miraculous healing crusade. The University of Jerusalem has instigated a study seeking to explore the continuing implications of this healing. Scientists at the Department of Physical Biosciences at the university have been running extensive testing on a number of Healed volunteers, including this reporter. The tests have been conducted to measure each subject's ongoing recovery capability to physical injury including blunt force trauma, cuts, burns, abrasions and more serious intermuscular and skeletal damage. In each case, moments after the injury was inflicted the subject's body repaired the damage almost instantaneously.

Dr Pincus of the Department of Physical Biosciences at the University of Jerusalem:

“We believe that the test subjects' interaction with Samuel Srour has caused a permanent change in their cell structure. The change we believe triggers a vast acceleration in the production of new hyper aggressive stem and white blood cells. Our results show the subjects' ability to regenerate is akin to 10,000 times normal speed. This regeneration ability is so powerful it's also capable of re-growing any damaged organ or limb. At this early stage we cannot postulate if the effects are permanent, but it is highly likely that they will remain with the individual throughout the remainder of their natural lives.”

“As scientists we strive to do more than document this healing. At this preliminary stage without access to the source, without access to Samuel Srour, we are unable to offer any coherent view on how he undertakes this healing. All we are able to do is observe the remarkable after-effects of these abilities. We hope in the future that Mr Srour would agree to submit to some form of analysis and testing so that we may strive to understand the nature of these incidences.”

Additional work by Dr Pincus and the team at the university indicates that the immunity is not just restricted to injury. The team tested a number of viruses and bacterial infections on the cells of the Healed. In each case the cells of the Healed have resisted any and all biological attack.

Dr Pincus of the Department of Physical Biosciences at the University of Jerusalem:

“Our work on the disease resistance of the Healed shows truly noteworthy results. The findings indicate that the Healed are unlikely to succumb to illness or disease. Consequently, the implications for the longevity of the lives of the Healed are profound. Provided these people maintain a healthy diet and a reasonable amount of exercise the Healed should live considerably longer than the non-Healed.”

“More analysis of the long term consequences is required and we are establishing a monitoring programme to catalogue and document these effects. We will be providing periodic reports throughout the life span of our subjects.”

Longer lives, unrestricted by injury or illness - that is the true nature of the miracle that Samuel Srour is offering the world.

Dalia Srour, mother of Samuel Srour said:

“We have seen that my son [Samuel Srour] has the ability to cure the sick. He also has been given the gift to immunise the healthy against any future injury, illness or disease. However, Samuel is just one man. It is physically impossible for him to heal all the sick and to give immunity to all the healthy. He has to prioritise, so for now he must focus on relieving those that are suffering. Samuel plans to remain in Jerusalem healing. If you are ill and are able, please come to him. Eventually he will travel but for now you will find him in Jerusalem.”

Top Comments

MaJik:

What a profound gift Samuel is bestowing on humanity. The source of these gifts must be divine. The proof of the existence of God has just been laid at the feet of mankind.

Stevie:

Shall we just stop investing in hospital and medical centres? Are we supposed to do away with our healthcare industry overnight? Should government spending on health be diverted to something else? We are talking about millions of jobs globally becoming obsolete.

RLA06:

My wife is a nurse; what will she do?

AKI2k:

Shall we just stop investing in hospital and medical centres? Are we supposed to do away with our healthcare industry overnight? Should government spending on health be diverted to something else? We are talking about millions of jobs globally becoming obsolete.

The lady said it when she said Srour can't heal or immunise everybody. There are too many people. So my guess is nothing changes. As usual.

FOLLYfolly:

This is a recipe for disaster; a fraction of the world's population living long, care-free lives, the rest of us coughing and wheezing to an early grave. Why should Mr Srour be the one who decides who lives and who dies? Who made him God?

WalkingOnby:

What about the rest of us? The Healed will be super human. What if their children are also immune? Are the rest of us going the way of the Neanderthal?

BIGBADDAWG:

This is a recipe for disaster; a fraction of the world's population living long, care-free lives, the rest of us coughing and wheezing to an early grave. Why should Mr Srour be the one who decides who lives and who dies? Who made him God?

So he should just stop curing the sick because he can't cure everyone? A doctor won't stop treating his patients because he doesn't have time to see all who are sick. He does what he can. Samuel must keep doing all he can.

SilkAR:

I have no hope of getting to Jerusalem. I have a job and kids to feed.

Mina358:

I have no hope of getting to Jerusalem. I have a job and kids to feed.

I am going to walk to Jerusalem if I have to. I am going to get there any way I can.

***

THE Scientist sat in departures at JFK idly reading a magazine. Samuel Srour had even made the front page of this health and fitness sports magazine. He was everywhere: Television, Internet and print. The Scientist had a twelve-hour flight before him. He had a solid playlist of Brahms' orchestral and chamber music to keep him company. He glanced up at the departure board and counted off that eleven of the next fifteen flights were destined to travel to Israel, Palestine or Jordan. The BBC Immunity World News article and Dalia Srour's fireside speech had triggered a surge of people making the new pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Airlines were laying on extra flights to meet the voracious demand. It was still possible to fly directly to Jerusalem, but you needed a large wallet and a slice of luck to bag a seat. Since the buyout, the Scientist's wallet was indeed the right size and he struck lucky booking an economy seat for a first-class price. He hoped his luck would continue once he got to Jerusalem.

***

DRESSLER was wearing her hair up in a neat, functional knot. Stefano was staring at the mole on her neck. He couldn't believe that he had never noticed it before. At the nape of her neck sitting just beneath the hairline, it was more of a beauty spot than a mole, dark brown in glorious contrast to Dressler's ivory skin. Stefano couldn't wrench his eyes from it. A whispering compulsion from within urged him to reach out and stroke it with his fingers, to place his lips upon it and taste it with the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, I'm talking to you,” Dressler hissed half turning.

“What?” Stefano snapped back to reality.

“I said this door is a piece of shit plywood. I'm going to put my foot through it. On three you go. Ja?”

“Acknowledged.”

The insurance trace on the Tanto yielded instant dividends. The knife was labelled as a Japanese antique and shipped overnight from Tokyo to a small apartment above a fishmonger's in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City. Stefano immediately put a surveillance detail on the apartment but his team noted no movement during the night. Fearing the church had abandoned the safe house, Stefano ordered the assault for dawn. The format of the assault was simple; two by two entry with Stefano and Dressler breaching front and two of his men coming in from the rear. It was unlikely the occupants were armed but the team was leaving nothing to chance. Their licenced firearms were drawn and ready to go.

Stefano stood to the side of the entrance while Dressler steadied herself. She lifted one of her size eleven boots and powered it into the door. According to Newton's second law of motion, force equals mass times acceleration. Dressler weighed approximately eighty-five kilograms of pure muscle and her foot attained a velocity of around two metres per second before it impacted the door. She hit the door with 1,700 Newtons or 173 kilograms of force. The door didn't stand a chance. It flew off its hinges and landed flat in the hallway.

Stefano didn't understand why his feelings for Dressler had suddenly intensified. They were colleagues and close friends, but he caught himself admiring the strength and power of the woman as she crunched through the door. He recalled their brief but enchanting time together, the muscular way she made love and the fleeting moments of vulnerability shortly after.

Stefano hustled into the corridor. The lock fell forlornly out of the door frame as Stefano drifted past, gun held with both hands at eye level advancing with the correct blend of speed and caution. Stefano's preferred weapon of choice was his Guardia issue PX4 Storm .45 calibre pistol, made by Beretta, the oldest gun maker in the world. It was efficient, and in trained hands, a frighteningly accurate weapon. Two nights ago Stefano put a bullet through Mariko's ear and another through her throat from a distance of fifteen metres. The dual sided safety allowed operation with either hand which was perfect for the ambidextrous Stefano.

As his investigators breached the back door Stefano ducked left into the main room, Dressler one step behind. There was no sound in the flat apart from his team. By now the noise of the assault should have woken the sleeping occupants. A well-drilled team would have kept a rotating night watch and they should have met some sort of resistance by now. Stefano's eyes scanned the room keeping his gun moving with his line of vision. The living room was clear.

Dressler led into the master bedroom. She preferred an old-fashioned six-shooting cannon to Stefano's dainty scalpel of a Beretta. Dressler carried the Smith & Wesson 357 Magnum. The 357 was a brutal hulk of a gun, with guaranteed stopping power and genuine fear factor. Nobody liked having one pointed at them and most people invariably complied with Dressler when asked. Dressler was acutely aware that in the confined space of the apartment collateral damage was a serious issue. A round from the 357 could easily punch through any church members and into the apartments beyond.

The master bedroom was clear, the bed made. The attached bathroom didn't contain personal possessions. The team converged on the second and final bedroom but that, like the first, was also clear. The adrenalin charge that had fuelled the assault quickly subsided leaving Stefano momentarily weary. He stood in the centre of the apartment and breathed long deep breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth, returning his heart rate to its resting state, controlling his anger and frustration. The apartment was empty, the church members gone.

***

SEVENTY-ONE miles away in Beersheba, the capital of the Negev, three Japanese tourists were breaking their fast in one of the city's mid-range hotels. They were up early and dressed in identical, newly purchased, hiking clothes. All carried back packs and one had a Nikon camera slung round his neck. Over breakfast they poured over a series of maps and a tourist information pamphlet on the Makhtesh Ramon in the Negev desert, a forty-mile-long natural canyon in the heart of Israel's largest national park. Red, Black and Ashen weren't interested in the Ramon, the vivid colours or unique shapes of the ancient rock formations. The Negev was an important source of Jerusalem stone, a dolomitic limestone used in construction across the Holy Land since ancient times. Vast tracts of the Old City including the Wailing Wall were built or clad in the various hues and tones of Jerusalem limestone. Originally, the stone was quarried within the municipal limits, but as the city expanded and international demand for the stone increased production moved out to the Negev. In the desert, four companies were currently cutting and blasting the rock from the earth.

Ashen sat back in his seat, the open window drawing the warm desert air into the car. He watched idly as the barren landscape of the Negev slid past. Mariko's disappearance had been a blow to him, forcing him to adapt his plans. The Path of Determination was never for her. She was not a warrior. White's path should have been the Path of Light but the thought of discarding her in Tokyo, as he did her family and the rest of his congregation, disgusted him. As the high priest of the church, a man who would ultimately serve at the right hand of the King of Light, Ashen felt the entitlement to take whatever he wanted. Mariko, beautiful, fierce Mariko; she was to have been his prize for removing the False Messiah. He imagined finally pressing himself upon her after years patiently waiting for her to ripen. On the verge of his triumph, White had been foolish. Was it the same with all women he wondered; were they all destined to play the part of Eve, disrupting Adam's bliss, sending him plummeting out of paradise? Mariko had disobeyed his orders. She had been sent only to spy and observe. Yet something had gone wrong and she failed to return from her reconnaissance. Mariko, just like Eve, had been found wanting.