deployed six mobile cannons a half-mile behind them to provide artillery cover against a mechanized force that Bolton expected sooner or later.
The destruction of the barricades, and the approaching horde of the dead were too much for the City Defenders-who living had apparent immortality to lose. They ran. Only a few remained to hold the barricades-and the Army of God soon added them to their ranks.
As the smoke cleared Stoneworthy joined Bolton in the wreckage. From their new vantage point, the road dropped gradually for eight miles before heading toward the City over relatively flat and open ground for twenty more.
“That won’t be easy to cross,” Bolton remarked.
As if to prove this, a squadron of jetfighters flew the City’s perimeter. Their contrails could be seen against the metropolis’ mountainous glow, the distant jet engines roaring defiance. The City Defenders’ technological angels might lack Divine power-but they would provide a destructive force that the Army of God would have difficulty answering in the open terrain before them.
After a moment studying the landscape, Bolton gave his binoculars to Stoneworthy.
“Down there. You can see where the road drops over that hill-there’s a valley to the south. I’ve seen diesel plumes.” The minister scanned the area. The valley ran north to south for about five miles. Stoneworthy knew it well. A small river ran through it, little more than a stream before the Change it now swelled occasionally to flood levels. The depression that it ran through was shallow-but wide, and could easily hide a large force.
“Let’s hope Gabriel lives up to his word.” Bolton studied the distant valley. “There could be a three-hundred tanks in there!” He left Stoneworthy to recall his cannon emplacements.
The minister looked around. The ruined barricade would have to be cleared before any of the Army’s mechanized units could negotiate the ruins. Luckily, things had happened too fast for the City Defenders to build anything more substantial or come up with a better defensive plan. Already, dead crews were hauling stone from the road. Stoneworthy looked across the distance. Archangel Tower reared through the City’s hulking levels- stabbing into the constant overcast like a flaming sword. How beautiful!
The minister’s soul was a seizure of conflict. He had worked so hard. Karen had worked so hard to build it, and such great works were done within it and through its combined ministries. Slowly, it had grown in stature to outstrip the Vatican. But all of that could be lost. The war was just; and it was a pity that destruction was a key to its success-but a necessary evil? He wondered if he could stand to see the Tower fall. Such lofty ideals had gone into its construction-such faith. Only to see it destroyed? And yet, what was the Tower when set against the will of God?
Stoneworthy and Updike had demanded that the City’s wealth be shared. And wealthy men had refused the demand. What of the people who needed such help-people who had already been cut out of their share? Had they refused Updike’s ultimatum? Had they even heard it? It was possible that after hearing the good intentions and noble aspirations of the Army of God that the City’s denizens could be convinced to join them in their mission and renounce the Gods of money and greed.
But how to convince them? Perhaps an emissary could bring an appeal for peace. The killing would stop the moment people knew that there was no need for it. As always the wealthy and powerful would be spinning lies to gain the support of the populace. But things were different. Perhaps the Change-one hundred years of its effect would make people-the living-more accepting of the truth.
If Stoneworthy could stop the killing before the destruction of the City was necessary perhaps repentance could buy the sinners a chance on Judgment Day? Forgiveness need only be asked. He resisted the urge to attempt Gabriel’s direct aid. The Angel’s appearance could do much to convince the unconverted and yet, Stoneworthy knew that this would be wrong. God did not put on displays to gain faith.
Yet faith was required. Faith. And that could only be gained through understanding. Stoneworthy knew that understanding grew from knowledge. And knowledge of God was contained in His Word.
A determined smile grew on the minister’s face. Parley was part of every war. Would the City Defenders recognize the white flag? Resolve hardened in him. Parley was the only thing that would make the Army of God clean. They had to offer the cheek to strike before they could exact the harsh judgment that Stoneworthy knew was coming. God’s Word was best heard coming from men, not the mouth of a cannon. He could not watch more killing and destruction go unopposed. It had to stop!
73 – The Watcher
Felon barely had time to focus on the creature before it attacked. Its body was covered with shimmering blue-green scales. The Watcher had a dinosaur torso with long rear legs and broad leathery wings. Its teeth were wide tapered plates of some flint-like material, and its snaky red tongue was white and red-veined. Great cheekbones anchored jaw muscles over a ridge of bone where the eyes should be but were not. It had a long serpentine tail that cracked the air like a whip and thick muscular arms like an ape’s. Its rear legs were as tall as Felon-tapering to a pair of splayed bird’s feet with four toes. These were jointed in several places like spider’s legs and two feet long.
The Watcher slashed these jointed spikes at him but Felon shifted out of the way, opened fire. His gun blazed until the metal burned in his hand. Most of the bullets bounced off the monster’s scales-only those traveling at perfect trajectories would penetrate its body. The Watcher screamed, slashed at Felon again. This time one of the spiky toes tore through the assassin’s overcoat, sunk into the wooden engine housing beneath him. Felon rolled, but the thing’s claw had him.
Its mouth opened and the Watcher screamed. The creature’s rotting breath rippled Felon’s hair and his ears were pushed to a pitch where all sound turned to a buzz. A heavy hand grabbed Felon’s right wrist, pushed it aside with ease. The assassin slid his left knee under the Watcher’s chin, forced it back as far as he could. He flipped the empty. 9 mm from his right hand and snagged the. 44 out of its holster with his left. He pressed its mouth against the creature’s forearm and fired once. The thing shrieked as bone and flesh dissolved and it leapt back with a beat of its wings.
Felon glanced at Passport and would have shot him but the Watcher attacked again. One powerful beat of its wings knocked the assassin into the oil drums before he could gain his feet. The Watcher kicked out, and Felon’s left leg went numb. Blood sprayed across the boat. The assassin reached up to his belt, yanked on the big buckle, and pulled a short stabbing knife free in time to deflect the Watcher’s bite with a slash under its chin. It shrieked again, but Felon pressed, managed a shallow cut along its throat. It turned quickly, smashing the assassin across the hips with its tail, throwing him into the short rail that ran around the top of the gunnels. Felon dropped to the deck, raised his. 44 and fired a shot at its face. A chunk of scales came off the thick bone on its forehead.
Felon howled at the creature, slashed with his knife. He fired the . 44 again but was swept into the drums by the Watcher’s tail. Before he could get to his feet its claws sunk into his waist and tore into his shoulder. It shrieked, and pulled him off the deck.
Growling for escape, Felon was lifted between tall brick walls that formed the channel. The boat dropped away. Constricted as he was, Felon gritted his teeth against the pain, cursed as his knife fell out of his hand. He jammed the. 44’s barrel into the Watcher’s groin and fired it empty. The Watcher screamed, raked its jaws at Felon-but its abdomen was torn and spilling a hot deluge on its prey. The Watcher threw its head back, jaws working, throat constricted around a scream. It struck at the assassin like a snake-to sink its fangs into Felon’s throat and face.
Felon ducked-but his temple struck against bone. Electric shock jumped over his vision as they fell. The assassin saw the crowd of Swimmers bloated, white against the black water now-arms reaching upward. Hundreds crowded the trawler as the water came up hard. It was like a wall of ice when he hit.
74 – The Dream
Updike was dreaming. Lying on a bed of flowers he exulted-the aroma of nature penetrated every pore of him. The yellow sun blazed down. Its rays warmed his face with prickly heat. High, high above, clouds scuttled by in long straight lines of haze-Stratus Nimbus clouds-he thought-or was it Nimbus Stratus? The clouds swept by bound for distant lands. He smiled. It had been so long that his bunching cheek muscles felt alien-unnatural. He took a deep breath, tasted the musty, damp pollen on the breeze. Alive. He rolled on his side giggling. A valley swept away
