Chapter 11



















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The Christ
Clone Trilogy 03 - Acts Of God
By
James Beau Seigneur

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Judas

10:05 a.m., Sunday, June 7, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.) The
wilderness of Jordan, north of Petra

The dusty gray four-wheel-drive truck sped across the off-road terrain north
from Petra, negotiating its way around rocks and ruts. Having long since given
up on the notion of conversing with her passenger he had not said ten words
since he got in the vehicle outside the Siq of Petra an hour before the driver
thought about plans for her upcoming wedding. When she received her assignment
to drive Decker to Jerusalem she had expected a hostile passenger, still enraged
about his abduction. Instead he seemed almost in a trance, so preoccupied with
his thoughts that he acted as though she wasn't even there. Time and again he
ran his right hand up the side of his face and over his head, pulling at his
thinning gray hair as it passed between his fingers.

Alternating between nervous twitching or tapping his foot on the floorboard to a
frozen tableau, Decker tried to understand, tried to think if there was
something that he had missed. But there seemed no doubt what Tom had meant.
Christopher was going to leave Tom in Lebanon.

It must have been, Decker thought, his eyes squinting in reflection, that all
the similarities between his current situation and what happened in Lebanon all
those years ago had caused him to have the dream again. That part was simple
enough. Still, that did not negate the larger meaning. How could he have missed
it for so long? All these years and it had not sunk in until now. Could it have
been just an accident? Decker's mind was filled with the single thought and its
awful implications. It didn't make sense; it couldn't have been an accident.
Decker knew that if he was right, he had discovered the single slip in an
otherwise flawless plan. It had seemed so insignificant at the time, but if he
was right. . .

Another hour passed before the truck finally came to a real road, bounced onto
the blistering hot blacktop, and turned west. Decker's mind flashed back to the
road in Lebanon where he and Tom Donafin had been rescued by the convoy carrying
Ambassador Jon Hansen. Had that really happened just by chance? he wondered.

About three miles down the highway, the driver pulled to the side of the road
and stopped behind a Japanese-built station wagon. "The key is in the glove
box," she said as she handed him a canteen full of water. "Just keep heading
west for about thirty kilometers and you'll come to Jericho."

"Thanks," Decker said reflexively as he took the canteen and the leather satchel
that held Elizabeth's Bible, and got out of the truck. The temperature was well
over 100 degrees Fahrenheit with the sun beating down through perfectly clear
skies, but Decker was oblivious to such details. Going to the car, he mindlessly
opened the door, got in, and closed the door behind him. The driver who had
brought him from Petra sat in the air-conditioned comfort of her own vehicle
waiting for him to start the car, but despite the heat Decker just sat there,
absorbed in thought. Finally, when she was about to go and check on him, Decker
remembered something about the key being in the glove box and reached over to
find it.

Without looking back at the driver, Decker started the car and drove off. Only
the intense heat of the steering wheel in his bare hands broke Decker's
concentration and he used his shirttail to hold the wheel as he tried to
determine how to turn on the car's air conditioning. It was fortunate that the
car was pointed toward Jericho, for he had no recollection of the woman's
directions and no thought of where he was going.

Decker got past the U.N. border guards in Israel without incident, though they
were a bit unnerved to have a high official of the U.N. arriving unexpectedly.
Their response gave no indication that he had been reported missing. Apparently,
Rosen was right: Decker traveled so frequently that after being gone for only
four days, no one was seriously concerned about where he was. This was a point
of some relief as Decker had no desire to explain where he had been or what had
happened to him until he first had some time to think.

He found a small restaurant off the beaten path where he thought it unlikely
that anyone would recognize him. As he ate, he agonized over what to do next.
Certainly he should call someone to let them know where he was and that he was
all right all right, he thought in pained irony, now there was a relative
term. He decided the best course of action would be to call Debbie Sanchez, his
second in command, tell her that he had taken some time off and would be gone
for another week or so. She could tell anyone else who needed to know. That
should work, he thought; Debbie would probably be irritated that he hadn't told
her of his plans ahead of time, but she was too new in her job to question him
or demand an explanation. When she got over being mad, she'd probably welcome
the opportunity to be in charge for awhile.

Decker crossed his fingers and hoped the video on the telephone might be broken
it was going to be hard enough to sound like nothing was wrong without trying
to look the part as well. He could turn the video off, but that would just raise
questions; and he couldn't lie and say the equipment was broken because the
monitor at the other end would indicate that it had been turned off.

Putting on the best face he could manage, he dialed the phone. Debbie Sanchez
had worked for him for less than a year and although she was a very intelligent
woman, he hoped she might not be able to see through his performance.

"Ms. Sanchez' office," a woman said. Decker looked at the face on the screen. It
was Kwalindia Oshala, Debbie Sanchez' administrative assistant.

"Mr. Hawthorne!" she said. The inflection in her voice and the look on her face
made it clear she was surprised to see him. This was not a good sign: obviously
there was some concern about his unplanned absence, even if they hadn't begun an
all-out search.

"Yes," Decker answered, as if everything was fine and he had not noticed her
surprise. "Let me talk to Ms. Sanchez."

"Sir," she responded, "she's out. She's covering for you at a meeting of the
World Press Club." Decker had forgotten about being scheduled to speak, and for
an instant he felt guilty about missing the appointment.

"What about Martin?" he asked, referring to Debbie Sanchez' aide.

"He's covering for Ms. Sanchez at a meeting in Beijing," she answered.

Decker really didn't want to leave a message with a secretary. That would hardly
seem like appropriate behavior from someone who had been missing for the past
four days. He quickly discovered that the option was not really open to him
anyway.

"Mr. Hawthorne," Kwalindia said, "Jackie Hansen left orders for me to contact
her immediately if you called. She said not to let you off the phone until she
talked with you."

Decker thought fast but came up with nothing. This was not working out as he had
planned. If Jackie was so insistent on talking to him it probably meant that
Christopher wanted to talk to him, and he was not at all prepared to do that
just yet: not until he had time to think this whole thing through. But he
couldn't refuse to talk to her. There was nothing to do but hope he could talk
to Jackie briefly and try to appear as if nothing was wrong. "Put me through to
her," he said reluctantly, with a pasted-on smile.

"Jackie Hansen," came the answer a second later, followed by, "Decker! Where
have you been!?"

Decker was about to try to answer when he heard another voice from out of camera
range. "Decker??" the voice said. It was Robert Milner. "Let me talk to him!" A
second later Milner came into view on the screen. "Decker, where have you been?
Are you all right? We were about to send out search teams!"

Mentally Decker groaned, but his face maintained its smiling innocence. "I'm
fine," he answered. "I just decided I needed a little vacation."

Milner was dumbstruck for a moment that Decker would so trivialize their concern
by not even offering an explanation. "I'm sure you deserve it," he said,
finally, "but it's customary to let someone ... at least someone on your staff,
know where you're going and when you'll be back."

"I'm really sorry," he said, trying to come up with some believable lie. "I
mentioned it to Debbie Sanchez before I left. I guess I didn't make a big deal
of it. I should have been clearer. I certainly didn't mean to worry anybody."

"Just so you're okay," Jackie interjected.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I hope that Christopher .. ."

"No," Jackie responded, anticipating Decker's question. "I asked him about you
yesterday, thinking that he might have sent you on some mission somewhere; but I
didn't tell him why I was asking or mention that nobody else knew where you
were. I didn't want to worry him before I knew if something was really wrong;
he's got enough on his mind right now."

"Good, good," Decker said. The look of relief on his face was in earnest.

"When can we expect you back, then?" Milner asked.

"I'm not sure," Decker replied. He wished he could just leave it open-ended but
he knew he had to give them some kind of answer. "Maybe a week," he said
finally.

"Where will you be?" Jackie Hansen asked. Decker didn't want to answer. He
needed uninterrupted time to think things through and once this conversation was
done he didn't want to have to talk to anyone close to Christopher for a while.
Worse still would be receiving a call from Christopher himself; Decker was
certain that Christopher would be able to see through his act and know something
was wrong. Still, he needed to give an answer.

"I'll be at my house in Maryland," he answered. "I'll see you when I get back,"
he added, hoping to bring the conversation to a close.

"Okay," Jackie said, instinctively complying with his intention. "Well, I'm glad
you're all right."

"Thanks," Decker responded.

"Enjoy yourself," Milner said halfheartedly. "And next time you decide to take
off, make sure you have your phone with you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Decker said. "I guess I left it in my office."

And with that Decker ended the call. Milner knows something's wrong, Decker
thought. He didn 't believe me. Quickly he ran over in his mind everything he
had said for anything that might have given him away. Then he remembered: Debbie
Sanchez had not been in the office the day before he left. If Milner followed up
on it, that mistake would surely confirm his suspicions that something was
indeed wrong.

Before he left the restaurant, Decker made two more calls: one to arrange for
passage on the next U.N. flight to the U.S. and the other to have Bert Tolinson,
the man at the agency that took care of his house, get the place ready for an
extended visit.

That evening Decker caught a United Nations troop transport in Tel Aviv bound
for New York. The accommodations were less than those to which he was normally
accustomed, but there was no one else on the plane except the crew, so he had
plenty of privacy. Though he tried, he could not sleep. From New York he took a
commuter flight to Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C. It was on this
second leg of the flight, and on the way to his house in Derwood, that he first
began to notice something that he would soon realize had far greater meaning
than he could have imagined.

Having raced the sun across eight time zones, Decker arrived at his house in
Derwood, Maryland, at about the same time of evening that he had left Tel Aviv.
Now, despite all that was on his mind, after visiting the grave of his family in
the backyard, he went inside and quickly fell asleep.

Monday, June 8, 4 N.A. (2026 A.D.) Derwood, Maryland

Decker rolled over on his back and allowed his eyes to open slightly. Closing
them again, he groaned and fell back to sleep. It was seven minutes after noon
before he was finally really awake. He woke with one thought so clear that it
had doubtless been deliberated for hours by his unconscious mind. In the
brilliant light of day, with the sound of birds outside, it seemed inconceivable
to him that he ever could have imagined such awful things about Christopher.
Yes, there were some things that needed to be explained, but he must have been
out of his mind to have thought .... He didn't even want to think about what he
had thought. It was all so ridiculous. He shook his head in disbelief and more
than little embarrassment.

Of course, there were extenuating circumstance that facilitated Decker's
willingness to believe such things. After all, he had been kidnapped; and while
the KDT apparently had not intended to harm him, he did not know that at the
time. It was a traumatic experience and he realized now that it was foolish of
him to think that he was immune to its ill effects. One of those effects, no
doubt, was being open to suggestion: the suggestions of Scott Rosen and of the
dream.

The clock beside his bed said it was 12:30 p.m. Adding eight hours to that meant
that it was 8:30 in Babylon. He toyed with the idea of whether he should call or
just get on a plane and go back. He opted for the latter. Right now, he was
going to get out of bed, go downstairs, and fix himself some breakfast. Then he
would call and find out when the next plane was leaving for Babylon.

Decker opened the refrigerator and freezer in unison. Bert Tolinson had done his
job well all his favorites were there. For a fleeting moment he thought maybe
he wouldn't go back right away after all. He really could use a vacation. As he
fixed breakfast, with the smell of bacon and waffles and coffee in the air, it
was hard not to think back to better days: days of getting up early and having
breakfast with Hope and Louisa before they headed off to school, days of driving
to the kiss-and-ride at the Metro with Elizabeth. He would never have that back.

But he would have Elizabeth.

Christopher had promised him that. The joy of that thought made him all the more
embarrassed that he could have doubted Christopher.

Decker carried his breakfast into the living room and turned on the television.
It wasn't the same as having breakfast with a real live person but it was better
than eating alone.

The picture came on immediately and Decker was greeted by a very unusual sight:
the reporter on the screen had bandages on her forehead, cheek, chin, and two on
her neck. She was obviously in some discomfort. Decker's first thought was that
she had been in an accident or mugged but it was not just the one reporter. The
camera moved to another reporter who was wearing multiple bandages as well. The
scene then went to a reporter on a nearly abandoned street, interviewing whoever
could be found of the local citizenry. Had Decker looked more closely at the
background, he would have recognized the scene as DuPont Circle in Washington,
D.C., not far from the headquarters for NewsWorld Magazine for which he and Tom
Donafin had both worked, and normally one of the busiest areas of Washington.
But Decker was not interested in where they were. What had captured his
attention was that almost everyone in the picture was bandaged. The few who were
not revealed by their lack of gauze and tape what the rest had hidden: ugly,
red, ulcerous lesions.

"TV stop," Decker said, and the picture froze. "Restart at beginning of this
program." Instantly, the program started again at the top of the hour. Decker
had always found this to be one of the most useful features of interactive
television. Without missing a thing, it was possible to have any program in the
past two months replayed. It was even possible, as the current example
demonstrated, to restart a program that was in progress by accessing a delayed
video feed.

Replaying from the beginning revealed that the whole program was focused on an
unexplained worldwide outbreak of lesions which affected nearly the entire
population. According to the news anchor, the epidemic had begun with a
reddening of the skin and mild itching which continued to worsen until lesions
began to form and finally erupt. Suddenly Decker recalled something he had
noticed that had been too insignificant to pay much attention to before: people
scratching nothing ominous, just minor but repeated scratching. It had been
most obvious on the shuttle from New York and on the Metro ride from the
airport. But as he thought back, he remembered seeing some of the crew on the
U.N. troop transport scratching, as were people at the restaurant where he had
eaten in Jerusalem. Then, as he recalled his phone conversation with Jackie
Hansen, he remembered that she too was scratching.

Decker flipped through the channels. On most of the general interest channels
the story was the same, with pain-racked, bandaged reporters interviewing
bandaged health officials or bandaged politicians or bandaged people on the
street. Nearly all business had come to a halt. Only the hardiest ventured out
at all. Most governments around the world had shut down except for essential
services. Later, there were public service advisories on how to treat the
lesions to prevent infection and reports of long lines of people waiting to buy
gauze, tape, and pain relievers at the few drug stores that remained open.

"As for the cause of the lesions," one of the reporters was saying when Decker
paused on that channel, "while most scientists tell us it is still too early for
any scientific evidence to have been collected and analyzed, one scientist at
the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, speaking off the record, told me
that there is clearly one distinguishing factor between those who have the sores
and those who do not. So far, only those who have taken the communion have the
sores."

It's happening already, Decker thought. This is what Rosen was talking about
when he said that things were going to get much worse fast. There must be some
connection between this and why he had seen so many KDT arriving in Petra. But
though he recognized the connection, he had no idea what the KDT were planning
next.

Decker did not call that day to make arrangements for passage back to Babylon,
nor did he do so the next. He told himself that there was no hurry and that if
he went out in public and was recognized, it would not be received well that
someone so close to Christopher did not have the mark and the sores. At the same
time, it made no sense to Decker to go out and get the communion when that would
cause him to get the sores. He had enough food to last for a while and anything
else he needed Bert Tolinson would get for him. It was far more reasonable, he
thought, just to wait. In reality, however, Decker was again beginning to wonder
if he had not been right about the dream after all. What had changed his mind?
he wondered, though he could not yet admit to himself that a change had
occurred. Why had the certainty of a few hours before so quickly evaporated? Was
he now thinking more clearly or was he once again falling into the role he had
played two thousand years earlier: a part he played so well that after two
millennia the role still bore his name Judas.












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