of the world. A new age is upon us, and a new theocracy must be formed that will support the flock. This will be accomplished without negotiation before twenty-four hours have passed. If you do not comply the Wrath of God shall fall upon the City, and upon the mansions of the rich and idolaters!”
“Gentlemen, be reasonable, I didn’t even know you were upset.” Barnstable spoke quickly. “I don’t think it’s possible, what you’re asking, even if I had a reason to comply.”
“The fire that starts shall burn the world. The same fire that smote Sodom and Gomorrah.” Updike’s face was a passionate tangle of red. “This is the beginning for the Lord has spoken, and those who bear His sword shall live in Heaven. Those who oppose His will shall join the fallen in Hellfire.”
“Gentlemen,” Barnstable said after a thoughtful moment, “if you have a proposal in hand, I’d happily present it to committee.” He made a dismissive gesture with his fingers. “I don’t have the power to do what you’re asking.” He stood up, his shoulders broad and impressive. “I am just the mayor of the City of Light and answer to a higher authority.”
“Higher than God’s?” Stoneworthy bellowed. “How truly blind is the moneylender? How committed you are to your false god.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the office clutching Stoneworthy’s arm.
That meeting had taken place eight hours before. Updike dragged Stoneworthy from City Hall into the waiting limousine and ordered the driver to take them to the Rebirth Foundation Compound. Stoneworthy was intrigued. He had heard about the Compound, located some thirty miles to the west of the Foundation proper. The facility housed the dead, and ran a commune of sorts. But this scattered knowledge of it left him unprepared for what he saw.
The compound was hidden in forested mountains, and at first glance, looked more like a military base than a hospice. A tent city of gargantuan proportion filled the valley for many miles. It was an army!
Tents and simple barracks stretched out over the hilly terrain as far as he could see. The soldiers were spread out on the wide parade ground trampled into a four-mile wide circle of grass at the end of the valley.
Though they were of all nationalities and races, they were dead and so equal in every way save one: some appeared so freshly deceased that they were barely recognizable as such; others were so far gone, that they had to be supported by comrades or had been augmented by the Foundation’s teams of miracle workers.
It was his second exposure to others who shared his dead state. His first reaction was sadness, followed by mute horror at the realization that he was one of them. But then the sympathy in their looks moved him to tears.
The limousine had dropped Stoneworthy and Updike by a central building with a small platform in front. They climbed the steps and were greeted by cheers from the assembled dead. Stoneworthy was astonished to see that Oliver Purdue himself-Updike’s first recovery -awaited them. The dead man embraced him, his eyes a blur of milky tears.
“Welcome brother,” he breathed. “I grieve. I rejoice.”
Stoneworthy looked into Purdue’s eyes and knew what he meant. To lose his life was the worst of all possible outcomes, and yet, he had to feel great happiness at being welcomed to these ranks of the dead-for it was where all men must go.
51 – Time for Action
“Tell that grave-digging son of a bitch to fuck himself!” the Prime thundered into the phone. Some ambient energy in the atmosphere gave the connection an annoying hum. “And none of your pandering! There is no voting block to consider, no sympathetic public conscience that you have to suck up to. You answer to me! ”
The Prime rubbed a fat-fingered hand across his brow. Mayor Barnstable called to deliver an ultimatum from that lunatic Captain Jack Updike about redistributing Westprime’s wealth. Easy to do when it isn’t your money! It would be laughable if the corpse-hugger didn’t carry a sizeable supply of public goodwill to underwrite it. All those families reunited: all those fresh-cheeked zombies. Insanity !
But he knew enough about Updike to understand that the disgraced army chaplain would not make a demand like that unless he could back it up. Redistribute wealth? Give me a fucking break.
“Prime, sir.” Barnstable’s voice continued clear and firm. The Prime had bullied any sycophantic qualities out of him long ago. “Of course, Updike’s ultimatum is ridiculous. I am simply stating that local Enforcement Division has kept an eye on Updike’s Rebirth Foundation. He has close to a half million followers that we know of-with the vast majority of them dead!”
“So what?” The Prime drew a reassuring breath into his heavy chest and an electric thrill ran up his spine. His Demon Ally was right then: An army of dead will start the final war. All of this fit the captive’s prophecy too, that the First-mother would one day be his: With the loss of her guardian the world would begin again. And his terrestrial and Infernal agents were working on the second part: When you know the God-wife Cawood before me, all the world will tremble. Then the bitch disappeared.
Trusting his intuition had paid off. Wait until those bastards see how far I’m willing to go. And if they win they’ll see that I’m redefining the phrase: take no prisoners.
“Barnstable, you make me sick. I am aware of the numbers at the Foundation. I ordered the investigation into his organization! It’s called taking the initiative. You keep getting caught down memory lane-glad-handing the population, and they haven’t had a fair vote in decades. I told City Authority to keep tabs on all those dead bastards. I’ve been watching them for years. And Operatives recently reported an exodus of the dead from Zero and One. They’re all headed into the countryside.”
He held the phone away to chuckle. “What did you think, Barnstable? They were just going to disappear? They have their own towns and militias for Christ’s sakes! I’ve got Operatives everywhere, and I know Updike’s forces are digging up any artifact, commandeering any vehicle, and siphoning every drop of gasoline from every abandoned gas station they can find. Do you know what he plans to do?” The Prime let his tirade hang in the air a moment. “Start giving out ultimatums!”
“Sir!” Barnstable blurted.
“And he’s got a bigger force gathering south of us, and one to the west. While Updike built this army you sat on your hands. I can tell you their locations and numbers. They tried to hide by breaking their forces into smaller groups to settle different abandoned towns like they were just poor old dead folk. But my Operatives have collected enough information to prove that they’re quite capable of attacking the City!” The Prime smiled inwardly. The Rebirth Foundation was on the list of targets that he’d given to General Topp.
“Prime, sir.” Barnstable’s voice was shaken. “How should I respond?”
“Tell him we don’t negotiate with terrorists!” The Prime’s anger blew out of him like steam.
“Won’t that provoke him?” Barnstable’s voice shook.
“That’s the idea.” The Prime threw his bulk out of his chair. “I want a war with them. This kind of insurrection is the last thing the City needs. There are other powers in the world with weapons pointed at us-and we have to worry about civil war? Believe me, our enemies abroad are watching how we handle our enemies at home. We have to show them we’re willing to make the hard choices. I want every potential enemy on this godforsaken planet to wet his pants remembering what I do to Updike’s army of the dead.” The office suddenly seemed cramped and confined to the leader of Westprime. The ceiling weighed down on him.
“And the beauty is, they’re already dead.” He chuckled. “The bleeding hearts will balk but it will be token criticism-what dead couples do you invite over for dinner?” He twisted the phone cord around his thick knuckles. “If Updike’s forces show any indication of trying to make his threat real, we’ll do whatever it takes.”
“But…” A high-pitched quaver entered Barnstable’s voice.
“This is an opportunity for us to show the world we won’t be pushed around- and we’re willing to put the dead problem into perspective.” He nodded to himself. The Prime clenched his thick fingers around Updike’s imaginary throat. “The world is watching.”
“How will we?” Barnstable cherry-picked one.
“Don’t concern yourself,” the Prime said. “I pay you to run the City. I’ve got the country’s back.”
“So I await your orders?” the mayor asked.
“Call Updike now! Don’t let the clock run out,” he chortled. “And don’t worry about the media. I’ll gag the Big Three.” He owned the major media stations and distribution hubs.
