Second chapter of The Black Amethyst!

~2~

Fires of the Damned

“We are the chosen generation. Chosen by our God above to rebuild this new world,” The man of religion spoke to the adoring congregation. “Many see the Armageddon of 2012 as a tragic event-that is not the case. Our God cleansed the earth with floods, fires, and storms to rid it of the evil that once resided here. We are blessed to come to this new world. Let us not abuse this power we were given. We must use it for good.” He clasped his long hands together and smiled in a way that made him look humble. “So go. Do good and exterminate whatever remaining evil there may be.”

Sky sat beside me on one of the many benches that crowded the little damp church. I looked down to her and she met my icy blue eyes with her own. They were soft and gentle and brown-as usual-but tainted with the same unease that I felt.

The man’s name was Coren and he brought religion to our town just a year ago. Blinded by their fascination and curiosity, the small population of Salinas village welcomed him with the utmost trust and respect. They hung on his every word and even built a church house near the town’s square. He lived in the small room behind the elevated platform from which he preached.

He was unfairly loved by the families of Salinas.

All but one: Mine.

There was something . . .off about Coren that I couldn’t quite place. At first, I thought it was just my paranoia. But even my younger sister, only twelve years of age, sensed something wrong about this man.

He smiled sincerely to his crowd as they applauded. The fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

That night my mom, Sky, and I ate dinner together in our small home, much like the others in Salinas. Beef soup mixed with vegetables and a side of bread for each of us. My mom kept a garden behind our house that grew the best vegetables this village had tasted. That’s how we made our living, and it was a good one.

“Can I play games tonight in the square with all the other kids?” Sky asked, a dribble of broth running down her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her sleeve.

My mom frowned, her chestnut eyes marred with worry. “I don’t know honey. I don’t like you off playing in the dark.”

My mom and my sister were nearly identical. Soft brown eyes, long curly dark hair, and a heart shaped face. By contrast, my eyes were the lightest shade of blue and my hair was blond and bone straight. The only physical appearance I had in common with Mom was our build: Short and slender.

The only thing I had in common with Sky however, was a mystery. We each possessed one little crystal that was imbedded in our skin since birth. Neither of my parents had any explanation as to what it was, and no matter how hard I had tried in the past, I could not remove it. Mom had suggested we hide them, even though she always said they were are mark from an angels kiss. She said the world feared things it didn’t understand, and this was one of those things. So, the flat black stone just below my collar bone was rarely seen by even us, and never spoken of. Sky’s clear crystal on the inside of her wrist was less noticeable, but she would never be seen wearing short sleeves even in the summer. I laid awake many nights wondering if my dad had a jewel in his skin. I knew I got my looks from my dad, who died in a hunting accident when Mom was pregnant with Sky, but anytime I said a word of him she would break down into tears. I had no memory of him at all, and by the time I was ten years old I had learned to stop asking about him.

It didn’t upset me as much as I thought it should. I felt no love for the man I had never remembered and never been aloud to speak of. It had always been just the three of us in our cozy little home, and that was the way I preferred it.

“Ever since Emily went missing,” Mom went on, “I’ve been so nervous for you girls. Poor Sharla. I couldn’t imagine one of my daughters just disappearing like that.”

I swallowed a mouth full of bread. “Suspicious. The way those unexplained disappearances started just after Coren arrived, isn’t it?”

She paused with her cup of water half raised to her lips and looked to me distastefully. “That’s a harsh accusation to make, September.”

I shrugged. “I’m just saying. There’s been four girls that have gone missing since he showed up with all his bibles and sermons.”

“But I’ll be sooo careful! I’ll stay with a friend the whole time!” Sky pleaded. “Everybody else gets to go.” Her already big eyes seemed to get bigger. “How about September comes with?”

I raised my eyebrows and Mom looked to me, considering the idea.

“No way,” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go play games with all the little kids. I have better things to do.”

“Oh, like what?” Mom asked with her mouth full. They both looked at me.

“Like clean up the kitchen after . . .” I wondered if that were a good enough excuse.

Mom laughed half heartedly and sighed. “I guess Sky. But not too long, okay?”

“Okay!” She beamed and jumped up from her seat. “Thank you!” She ran to the door and slipped on her shoes.

“What, right now?” My mom dropped her spoon in her bowl and turned to watch Sky. “Can’t you at least finish your dinner?”

“I’m not hungry! Bye!” She flung the door open, and slammed it shut behind her.

Mom sat, looking at the door for a moment and I listened to Sky’s footsteps run past our shut window. She sighed again and turned back to her food.

Her lips were pursed, her usually bright eyes were saturated with concern and looked right through her bowl. A twinge of guilt tugged at my conscience. I had always hated to see her unhappy, perhaps if I weren’t such a softy I would know more about my father. But she was the best friend I had ever had, and I tried to keep her in a good mood. Resigned, I slurped the last bit of soup from my bowl and took my dishes to the wash bucket by the cabinet.

“I’ll go watch them play Mom,” I said, holding back a grimace. “After I wash my dishes.”

“Thank you,” She said relieved. “Just for a little bit. And then you can make her come home.”

After my dishes were clean and put away, I stepped outside into the warm summer air and shoved my hands in my pockets. Salinas was a small town, and it would only take me a few minutes to get to the square where all the children met for night games after dinner. I ambled slowly past the log houses, all set in orderly lines on either side of the main path that went straight through the whole village. It was worn down to dirt and rock after thousands of shoes and hooves had walked on it. Most shutters were open, yellow fire light spilling onto the street. Families still sat at the tables, enjoying dinner. Sky had left early; all the other kids were still eating. The smell of fires and fields wafted through the evening air. The sun was setting quickly behind the trees.

I could see the church now, its fat doors facing the square. Though it was bigger than any other structure in our town, it was still small. It had been Coren’s idea to put the giant wooden cross in the middle of the square. He said it would be used to burn evil, when we came across it. As I got closer, I saw that there were two figures in front of the church: a tall thin one and a shorter one.

I recognized her instantly from across the square. What was Sky doing on the church steps, and who was she with? Finally, nearing the last house, I could see him clearly in his black suit against the white paint of the church. Their voices were clear to me then, as if I just walked into the room.

“It’ll only take a second,” Coren said to my sister. He was leaning forward, she was stepping back. “It’s really amazing. I just want to show you-”

“No thank you Mr. Coren,” She said politely and looked over her shoulder. “I have to get back.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re fine for just a little bit,” he said. I stopped walking when I had passed the final home and watched. “Like I said, it’ll only take a minute.” The way he spoke to her, reminded me of the way a sneaky predator might coax its prey. Too soothing. Too kind. He took a step forward and she stepped back.

“No I-”

Coren’s shoulders dropped, along with the luring smile and he wrapped a big hand around Sky’s arm. She cringed back, her eyes wide with astonished pain, and yanked her arm loose from his grip.

I was sprinting across the square instantly. “Hey! Get away from her!”

He had just managed to re-latch onto her wrist when he saw me and within a matter of breaths, his arm began to blacken. It started at his fingertips and crawled up towards his shoulder, leaving his sleeve burning to embers on the ground, steam rising off his arm. He released Sky’s wrist and gaped down at his rapidly disintegrating arm. Screaming in anguish, he shook as if it was on fire and the blackened parts fell away like ash in the wind. He fell to his knees, howling and staring at the grey stub that ended at his elbow.

I looked from Coren, to the curious families emerging from their homes, to my little sister standing above his crumpled figure. My heart thumped painfully in my chest when I saw the horror on the family’s faces, and realized how this must look to them. Sky was backing away slowly with her wide eyes locked on Coren, unaware of the people that surrounded the scene.

“Sky!” I shrieked and my voice cracked. She looked to me sharply and I gestured for her to come just as a man stepped in front of her.

“What happened?” He demanded witheringly.

“She burned me!” Coren whaled shakily, before she could reply. He cradled his stub to his chest, looking grossly pale. “She burned my arm off! She’s a witch! A demon!”

They all looked to her with blank astonishment and my breathing spiked.

“Sky!” I shouted again. “Come here!”

She saw me and darted past the growing crowd.

Her eyes were huge with fear when she reached me. “What happened?” She gasped. “What did I do?”

“GET HER! SHE DID THIS TO ME!” Coren bellowed with anger and pain. His face was ashen and he looked on the verge of passing out. “SHE’S EVIL!”

They looked to us with big uncertain eyes.

“We have to go,” I said and tugged her through the houses.

“Hey! Wait!” One man called behind us and I pulled her faster.

“We can’t go home!” Sky hissed. “They’ll know we went there!”

I looked over my shoulder. I could still see the square from here and the group was getting bigger.

“GO AFTER HER! SHE’S EVIL!”

“Just keep running. What happened?”

“I don’t know!” She cried. “He touched my stone and-”

I stopped short, yanking her to a halt. “Your stone did this?”

She shrugged, her brows pressed with worry. “I don’t know.”

I bit my lip and looked back again. “We have to tell mom.”

“But they’ll know we went there! They’ll find us!”

“We’ll hide in the secret room,” I said. “Mom will just tell them we didn’t come home.”

She was about to protest when I began to run again, pulling her with me to the very last house. We doubled back, behind the houses and off the street, till I saw our garden.

I darted between the sprouts of green and flung the shutters open. “Mom!” I called quietly and turned to Sky. “Climb in.”

I moved out of the way so she could hoist herself onto the window seal and pull herself through. I could hear the chaos from the square. What if Mom had gone there with everyone else? I prayed she didn’t.

“Mom!” I called a bit louder as Sky hopped onto the bedroom floor with a thud.

The bedroom door opened and my mom poked her head through with a puzzled look. “What on earth are you two doing? What’s going on at the square?”

“My stone burned Coren’s arm off!” Sky squealed and ran to hold Mom’s stomach.

I crawled in and shut the window behind me.

“What happened?” She asked. I could tell she was trying to keep herself calm.

“When I found them Coren was talking to Sky-”

“He wanted me to go into the church with him and I said no,” She interrupted.

“When he grabbed her by the wrist to keep her from leaving, his arm just burnt to ash! Up to his elbow!” I said exasperated. “He was screaming and the whole town came out to see and he told them all to get Sky because she did that to him and she’s evil!”

My mom stared at me with rising terror.

“We have to hide Mom,” I said quickly. “We ran and he’s going to send them after us. You have to tell them that we never came back here.”

She blinked, as if I had just awoken her and she nodded. “Of course. Quickly, come into the kitchen.” She turned and towed Sky with her. I was hard on their heels. “Did they see you come home?”

“No,” I breathed and helped her shove the table to the side. Sky ran to the window and peaked out. “Close the shutters Sky. We ran to the end of the village, and circled back behind the houses.”

Mom rolled the heavy rug aside, revealing a square door laid into the wood. She tugged on the metal handle and it opened with a moan. The door fell back, slamming the kitchen floor and making me jump. My heart was racing and my hands shook.

“Sky come quickly,” She held out a hand for my sister. Sky ran from the window and threw herself on Mom, nearly knocking her out of her crouch. Mom pulled her away to look her in the eye. “It’ll be fine Sky. Just stay quiet no matter what happens and don’t come out until I open the door. Okay?” She glanced to me and I nodded.

My breathing hitched. The way she was acting-too calm-only made me more nervous. I had never seen that look on her beautiful face before.

She was beautiful. Her soft skin was flawless all except the wrinkles around her eyes, proof of a life full of smiles and laughter. Her hair spilled to her waist like silky curtains, only a few shades lighter than her eyes rimmed with thick black lashes.

“Get inside.” She smiled, but I knew it was fake.

I watched as Sky turned to lower herself into the little black room. When my dad saw the jewel in my skin, he thought ahead and dug a secret room, just in case anything like this happened. My mom had deemed it unnecessary-until now.

I glanced to the door anxiously, half expecting them to burst in.

“Now you,” she said and she was closer than I expected. She pointed to the black hole when I didn’t move. Sky’s head peered out the top and a knot set deep in my stomach.

“What’s going to happen?” I asked. Mom always seemed to have the answers to everything when I was young. But she hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second but I saw it as if time had froze.

“I’ll tell them you never came back here.” She smiled again but her thin eye brows tilted the way you might smile at a sad, ironic truth. “They’ll leave to look for you and we can leave tomorrow night when they’re all sleeping. We can go to Foster city.” She nodded and her eyes glistened. My heart plummeted. “You remember Foster City?”

Tears stung the back of my eyes. She was lying. I knew her better than I knew anyone else in this world, and I knew she didn’t believe her own words.

I shook my head.

A silent laugh shook her and her smile was nostalgic. “You were very young. We were there eleven years ago-you were six.” She glanced to Sky, who looked as if she wanted to join us there, kneeling on the floor. “You weren’t even born yet.” She looked back to me, and the tears in her eyes had vanished. She laughed a lighter laugh and said, “You loved it there. You would have lived on that beach if you could.”

I gnashed my teeth together and dried my eyes. I was about to protest, to tell her I knew she didn’t mean it. My face must have given me away and she shook her head ever so slightly.

“I need you to take care of each other down there,” She said, her voice stern. “Its dark and its cold, but you will be with each other. Promise me,” She glanced between the two of us. “That you will take care of each other. Always.”

“I promise,” Sky said without hesitance.

I shut my eyes, keeping the tears back and I knew her words were directed to more than the time spent in that little hole in our floor. I sucked in a deep breath and looked at her.

“Hide with us,” I almost shouted as the idea came to me.

But she shook her head. “They’d find us eventually. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“And promise me you’ll stay hidden, no matter what happens.”

“I promise.” Sky agreed.

“Promise.”

She smiled and wrapped her warm arms around me. Usually, I didn’t like hugs and touching and feelings. I had never been one for those types, since I could remember. But now, I wished she would hold me longer. She let go too soon and hurried me into the room with Sky. The little square of yellow that the kitchen light cast showed me it was a tiny room with wood walls and cold dirt floor.

She looked down to us as Sky latched to my side. “Remember your promises. Don’t come out till I come to get you.”

“I love you,” I choked.

“Love you,” Sky repeated in a lighter tone.

Mom shrugged. “It’s going to be fine. But I love you girls too. So much.”

With that, she lifted the heavy slab of wood and slowly let it slide shut in its place, leaving us alone in the vacant dark.

Not more than two minutes later heavy banging landed on our front door and a muffle of voices outside.

“Stay quiet,” I warned Sky, who was still wrapped around my side. I didn’t like having her there, I felt vulnerable. If anything were to happen, she’d get in the way.

Mom’s footsteps passed nearby to the front door and I stopped breathing.

“Hello?” She answered and then gave a small shriek. “Coren! What happened?”

“Your daughter happened!” He shouted back. Their voices were muffled and I had to strain to hear.

“I don’t understand.”

“She burned my arm off!” There was a chorus from the mob that came with him, though I couldn’t make out their words. “Where are they?”

“Coren I don’t see-”

“Your child is evil!” He interrupted. He sounded in pain. “Witches!”

There was a pause.

“They couldn’t have possibly done this.”

“Sky fell!” he spat and I clenched my hands into angry fists at the way he spoke to her. “When I tried to help her up, she looked at my arm and mumbled some words I couldn’t understand and my arm burnt to ash! It’s dark magic! She’s a witch!” The mob threw angry agreements at Mom, fueled by Coren’s anger.

Sky gasped. “That’s a lie.”

I hushed her.

“That couldn’t possibly have happened.” Mom’s voice was getting sharper now.

“I saw it!” One man cried out. It sounded like Mr. Bain.

There was a pause and I imagined my mom, defenseless and sweet, standing against an angry mob of who she thought were friends. We shouldn’t have left her there alone. I wanted to stand with her, but I knew I couldn’t ask that of Sky.

Coren said something too low for me to hear and Mom’s answer was curt.

“They left to play night games in the square after dinner. That’s the last I saw them. They haven’t come home.”

Another pause.

“You’re lying!” Coren snapped and then said only a bit more calmly, “They had to have learned their dark magic from someone. You taught them, didn’t you?” Before Mom could defend herself he yelled, “YOU’RE A WITCH TOO! YOU’RE WHOLE FAMILY! SHE’S A WITCH!”

My stomach churned and I was glad the dark hid my horrified face from Sky-it only would have scared her. I tightened my arms around her and the terrified tears began to spill from my eyes. She was unnervingly still.

There were muffled voices that we couldn’t make out until one spoke out louder than the rest.

“She couldn’t be a witch.” It was Emily, bless her soul. “I’ve known her since we were children.”

“Oh but she is,” Coren protested. “Where else would the kids have learned their witchcraft? Their father?” He laughed once. “She probably killed him herself.”

My jaw set tight at the pain this must have brought my mother. Hatred pulsed through my blood, making it hard to breathe.

“She is a witch!” He preached. “This is the answer to why your little girls have gone missing! Will you simply stand by and let this evil continue? Will you do nothing to protect your children and yourselves? We must rid the world of this evil! Or she and her children will continue to destroy!”

There was a chorus from the excited mob. They fed off each others fear and anxiety. Sky’s heavy breaths matched mine, but we stayed quiet. We kept our promise even as the sounds of the crazy group in our house searching for us drown everything else out. Even as the sounds of Coren demanding my mother’s execution pierced our hearts.

And as the sounds of hurried feet took my mother from her home and the door slammed shut, we were left in the lonely blackness as silent as the promise we continued to keep.

First Chapter of my soon to be published novel, The Black Amethyst!

Chapter 1

Armageddon

“And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon.”

-Revelations. 16: 16

Boggs Mountain, California.

Dec. 20 2012

Underground Mountain Scientific and Ecological Lab - UMSEL

Drip, drip, drip. The dark purple liquid fell in tiny droplets into a glass beaker that was nearly half full of the thick substance. Clear, spiraling tubes twisted and turned over a long metal table that was congested with all sizes of clear vials and stoppers. At one end of the table, a small bowl held a blue liquid that boiled over a small flame. At the other end of the table, a similar bowl was filled with a sticky, red liquid which was subjected to a constant spray of liquid nitrogen. Each bowl had a tiny hole in the bottom which enabled the two liquids to slowly leak out into glass tubes and begin their journey over the long table. Both substances spiraled from coil to coil until they came together and mixed in a long glass vial, the blue and red turning a dark violet as they heated above another open flame.

      The long table sat in the center of a large room that was scattered with scientists in long white coats. The men and women moved about with a sense of urgency, clearing other tables of their scientific contents. Some articles were being packed up and taken out with no true method of organization, while others were being smashed, burned, or shredded.

      In the midst of this anarchy stood a man many years past his middle age. He stared unblinking at the small beaker as another tiny colored splash landed inside. He seemed oblivious to the chaos around him, his dark eyes focused on his greatest achievement. The entire underground facility could collapse at any minute, and he would not so much as inch away from his work.

      Doctor Andrew Drekkedo stood straight and tall, just over six feet. He was a thin and sickly looking man who took time out of his crammed schedule to nourish his body only enough to keep his brain functional. Wrapped around the greatest mind of the twenty first century was a head that contained a pointed nose, hollow cheeks, and a small bony chin. Thin lips pursed as intently as his eyes stared under thin white eyebrows. His grey hair was barely there at all and wisped out in every direction, seemingly adding the look of crazy to a man already thought to be so. He wore a long white coat and kept his hands buried in the deep pockets on both sides.

      “Doctor we have to abandon the facility! They say D.C. has been demolished and that the president has gone underground,” another scientist tried to get the immovable Dr. Drekkedo to come to his senses and help with the evacuation. The older man ignored the younger, and the scientist ran off with a frustrated sigh, throwing his hands up and then grabbing two boxes and racing out the door.

      As madness unfolded around the old man, he remained calm. The large steel room echoed with panicked conversation and sounds of breaking glass and tearing papers. Along the far wall was a stretch of solid, thick plexi-glass where one could look into a chamber that housed the unfortunate victims of the so called “mad scientist”. A woman with long, black, dirty hair stood frozen behind the glass. She stared without emotion at the scientist as he stared down at his formula. There were others in the cell lying face down on the floor in the straw they used for beds.

All were dead.

Only the woman remained, her eyes the same color as the violet substance Dr. Drekkedo had spent most of his years concocting. She may have been beautiful once, maybe still was, but it was hard to tell in her tattered condition. She was strong though, and that’s why she endured while the others died.

The few remaining scientists soon cleared out, the last calling to Dr. Drekkedo, pleading for him to join them. He did not budge. Soon, only the silence was left to try to disturb him, but still he did not budge.

* * *

Middle East Israeli Plains

Dec. 20 2012

The helicopter blades pounded the airwaves, forcing them to pulse and break as reverberating thumps were heard across the Israeli landscape. The Blackhawk flew fast, its hull a solid black with the markings of a hawk. It had a beak at the nose of the craft and eyes and wing feathers decorated both sides. Also painted on the side was the name of the mechanical beast: Sand Hawk 1. She was as famous in the Middle East as the president was in the United States.

      Sand Hawk’s pilot was even more famous. Lieutenant Colonel James P. Black. He had been everywhere and done everything and was the most decorated active soldier in the U.S. military. He was always pushing for more though, and these days more was easy to find. Wars had spread across the globe like an incurable pox. What began as small border wars became mighty military engagements. Every country was mobilizing for war and all threat levels were in the red. The world was a fingers touch away from nuclear devastation.

Even the earth seemed to be at war with its inhabitants: people were being killed off by the thousands in massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. There was another outbreak of the plague spreading throughout Europe and looking all too familiar. It was like the dark ages all over again and most borders were closed, their populations on lockdown. Terrorism was at an all time high and the global market could not get any lower.

It truly did seem like the end of days.

“I’ve never seen anything . . . Came out of nowhere . . . Never believe . . . there are millions . . . everywhere!”  The radio kept breaking up and it was hard to understand what the other end was panicking about.

“Say again Tower 3,” Captain Ashlock responded. The man sat next to Lieutenant Colonel Black in the cockpit of the Sand Hawk 1. They were moving fast, high above the plains of Israel.

The two men had been chasing a ghost call; a distress signal that ended up being bogus. They were preparing to head back to base when they picked up a radio signal from Tower 3 at the base of Mount Megiddo. It was unlike anything either man had ever heard before. The radio signal was scattered, but they could barely make out enough to understand that there were two massive armies coming together in the valley of Jezreel, which was stretched out before the ancient fortress of Megiddo.

James P. Black worked at the controls, handling the Sand Hawk with ease. He looked up at a picture of his wife and two children that he always kept with him when flying out on missions. His family was safe back in the states at their large estate in Brisbane, California. He hoped to take leave and see them again soon. It was the “End of Days” and he was chasing ghost calls a world away from the only people he cared about.

The End of Days. That phrase that seemed so commonly used in the past few years made him think back to a year ago when he was stationed back in the states. He rubbed his thumb against the smooth, polished black stone hanging by a cord around his neck as he remembered the day he bought it. He was walking through the streets of San Francisco, searching for a tourist shop so he could bring home a couple of presents to his kids. As James P. Black walked, he noticed an old man wearing a tattered gray robe standing on a street corner. The beggar had an unkempt beard and bushy white hair that fell about his shoulders. A large sign was hung by a filthy rope around his neck and he called out to those walking by. He preached words of God and prophecies that spoke of horrible events and the day of reckoning.

Normally James would have walked right past the homeless man, but it was the sign that peeked his interest. Scrawled on the white board in fading blue marker was a scripture from revelations and he recognized it from a pamphlet he had received in one of his few visits to a church. It talked about judgment day and about a book that God would use to call the souls to heaven.

He remembered walking up to the crazy man, and as James approached him he noticed he was blind. His eyes were a milky white and faded pupils gazed past the people he shouted at, until James came closer. As the Lieutenant Colonel looked into the man’s foggy eyes, they seemed to dilate and refocus to stare straight into Black’s eyes. The unshakable Colonel recalled getting slithering chills that day for the first time in his life; every time he thought of the incident, the hair on the back on his neck would stand erect.

“It is The End of Days my friend,” the preacher had said in a pleading tone. “Armageddon is at hand, but The Book of Life has been stolen, delaying The Rapture and forcing those that would have ascended into heaven to stay and witness Hell.”

James Black slowly walked past the street prophet, his eyes locked on the milky orbs of the blind man, whose eyes followed him all the way while his mouth continued to speak words of prophetic doom. “We will all be stranded here! Never will man step the doorway of Heaven until the book is found and read! Only the black amethyst can . . .”

James was out of ear shot before the man had finished and was left to wonder what the end of that sentence would have been for the rest of his life.

“I’ve lost them Lieutenant Colonel,” Captain Ashlock sighed angrily, snapping James out of his reverie. Ashlock continued to scan on different channels but none of that would matter.

Sand Hawk 1 crested the final rise into the valley of Jezreel and Black’s eyes widened when he saw the sea of men flooding the triangular plains. The two armies numbered in the millions and they covered the fertile valley in a spread as thick as ants. There were no planes, tanks, or artillery. The only armor on the field of battle was that of the warriors and it glinted in the sunlight so bright that it was impossible to make out individual figures past the unusual glimmer. In an instant, the two masses began to slowly move to one another, marching at an equal pace.

Suddenly, the Blackhawk began losing power, the back rotor freezing up and causing the craft to spin and slowly descend to the valley below. Warning lights flashed and alarms pierced the air in the craft as James P. Black worked vigorously at the controls, trying desperately to keep his helicopter from crashing into what would be an inevitable death.

In the land of Canaan, the two infinite armies came together and there was a blinding flash of light, flooding the men’s vision with white. Sand Hawk 1 dove into the valley floor a split second later, giving the pilots the tiniest of moments to witness the battle at Har Megiddo.

* * *

Boggs Mountain, California

UMSEL

Dec. 20 2012

Dr. Andrew Drekkedo inserted the long needle into a thin, weak vein just below his withering left bicep. His thumb slowly pressed the syringe, pushing the dark purple liquid into his system. This was his second dosage and soon there would be a third. The old doctor sat on a stool next to his work table. The lab was scattered with debris, but absent of any other humans, save the woman who remained behind the plexi-glass. She continued to watch the man as he subjected himself to the possible fatal liquid. It had been his life’s work, but only tested on thirteen people; twelve men, who had all died, and one woman. She had been the first test subject to show remarkable adaptations.

She was known as Test Subject 144587, but Dr. Drekkedo named her Eve and she would be the mother of a new race of people. The world was dying and it would take a sort of superhuman race to endure the coming apocalypse.

The problem was, all the male test subjects had shown negative results when given the formula. In fact, each man had died within minutes of receiving the treatment. Each time the doctor tweaked the potion here and added a little there. Each time the male test subject would go through congestive heart failure and die on the operating table. After months of trial and error and twelve men dead, his colleagues began questioning his methods. Dr. Drekkedo was labeled “The Mad Scientist” and was denied further testing on humans.

He kept at his work however, and believed he had perfected the mixture just as the facility began evacuation and lockdown procedures. It was nothing he couldn’t override, but still he had no one to test his mixture on. It might be, the doctor thought, that he himself would have to be the so called Adam of the new race of man. If he survived. If not, well, he was probably bound to die in the near future anyway. All of man was now fighting to stay alive. Extinction was probable.

The doctor looked over to Eve and she continued to watch him inject the liquid into his arm. He wondered if she realized that if he were to die, she would surely starve to death in the chamber she now looked out from. Something told him she knew.

The effects came slowly at first. The doctor sat on the stool for at least an hour after taking the final dosage before he began noticing subtle changes. At irregular intervals, his heart rate would peak, making him think he was sure to die, but then the condition would fade and Dr. Drekkedo would feel slightly more energized, a little bit stronger, and a bit more enlightened. His brain began to work faster, which was incredible for a man who was already a genius.

Finally, after hours of waiting to die while undergoing short, painful changes, the scientist stood and faced the plexi-glass wall and locked gazes with the disheveled woman on the other side. She did not look frightened or concerned but more . . . relieved. Of course, the doctor knew intense emotions were no longer a possibility for the woman to feel; the formula had stripped most of those away because emotion was futile and an inconvenience in Andrew Drekkedo’s eyes.

Eve blinked and tilted her head, the first time she’d moved in hours. She lifted her thin hand and pressed it against the plexi-glass. Dr. Drekkedo shed his lab coat, feeling exuberated and strong. It was unnerving, the way his vitality pulsed through his veins so electrically. She scanned the doctor from head to toe with her eyes with an air of understanding. The formula had heightened her intuition and intelligence and the doctor knew she was aware of the reason he had created her.

He placed his hand on the glass over hers and smiled slightly.

Dr. Andrew Drekkedo had succeeded in his lifelong efforts to prolong the existence of the human race. He now had all he needed to help mankind survive. The facility had enough food and medical supplies to endure until the end of the destruction, when the earth and its people can once again find balance. It could take a hundred years or a millennia, but man would once again dominate this earth and “his people”, Dr. Drekkedo added to his thoughts, his people would be the shepherds of man, helping them to endure, survive, and prosper.

Year 2015

The world is engulfed in a war no side could possibly ever be named victor. Nuclear weapons are expended and mankind is bent on its own destruction. Those who are able retreat to underground camps and struggle to survive. Those that stay above ground and participate in the Earth’s destruction pay for it with their lives.

Year 2050

Clusters of humans begin to move about the poisoned surface of their world. Mankind struggles to find food and shelter and few adapt to the toxic changes. Rotting corpses are scattered across the surface and many more die.

Year 2090

The dwindling population begins to adapt and change. Clans, villages, and a few kingdoms are established by the strongest of the survivors. New species are discovered in plants,

animals, and man.

Year 3012

The earth is still sick, but is beginning to breathe with new life.

Five angels are born among men.

The cheers were deafening and cruel.

Some leaned forward on the wooden benches, enthralled in the event while others sat bored and wished the round would end. The sun glared down on the spectators, though the earth is still cold, so are its inhabitants. The air is filled with sick anger and anxiety.

In the middle of the diamond shaped arena, two men circle each other wearily. They were dressed in tattered animal skin. The smaller of the two held a fat club with what appeared to be jagged scraps of metal jutting out in all directions. The bigger man swung a heavy lead ball on the end of a chain, stirring up dirt and sand.

Keaton looked to his brother that sat beside him on one of the thousands of benches that surrounded the arena. Alec, being a year younger was seventeen. His brown eyes were eager with the fight, but it wasn’t the same eagerness of the rest of the crowd. It was mixed with something Keaton couldn’t quite decode, even when Alec was looking straight at him-like he was now.

“What?” Alec asked, running his scarred hands through his short, brown hair.

Keaton only shrugged, not embarrassed to be caught staring.

Alec ignored his strange brother and shifted his focus back to the match: two thieves pitted against each other to fight to the death for their freedom. The larger man had robbed and killed a wealthy land owner. The skinny one had been caught taking food from merchants for his family. He could not feed them otherwise. He would die due to King Beckom’s greedy rule.

Alec’s lips twisted into a disgusted glare at the king. He sat in a secluded box on the front row across the stadium from Alec. Twenty of his finest men, The Soldiers of Night, formed a square around him. He sat proudly in his high backed chair lined with black fur and wore an evil smile on his long face as he watched the mismatched fight.

The large bandit swung his ball on a chain at his sides, building momentum and making it impossible for the feeble thief to get in a blow with his jagged club. The big one walked quickly towards the other, swinging his weapon and backing him into the far corner of the arena. His face was confident and determined, while the small man’s was pained with fear. He swung, the man dove out of the way of the led ball, and it struck the dirt with a thud. The little man smacked his club into the back of the other’s neck, making him howl in pain. Red dots oozed blood where the pieces of metal had penetrated the skin. Angry, he whirled on the man, swinging his ball wilder than before. But he was slower than the other, and brandished a heavier weapon. The little man leaped behind him and hit him in the same spot as before. Misplaced hope was clear in his eyes every time he dodged another swing or got in another hit. Keaton thought he might actually have a chance. The big man hung his ball in the air, ready to strike and the small one dove too soon to the side. The man repositioned his swing and the ball smashed the other square in the shoulders, knocking him to the ground. He crumpled there, his club a few feet from him. The thief towered over him and swung his weapon in circles above his head with a morbid smile.

Alec closed his eyes, and the crowd went wild.

*  *  *

Snake bar was the lowliest bar in Oakland with its dim lighting and mismatching tables. Irritable regulars overcrowded the place because of its cheap women and cheap drinks-however vile they may have tasted.

A place of sin and filth indeed, where two boys-not quite men-were seen late that night, obviously brothers by their round dark eyes and brown hair. They were quite good looking, though Alec paid no mind to the women that ogled him like the finest glass of Brandy. He wandered the bar aimlessly, his ears perked and his eyes peeled.

Though he was younger than nearly all the men in the bar, none dared approach him with their hopes of another bar fight. There was an air of threatening confidence that he held in his shoulders. A dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

Keaton on the other hand, leaned against the far end of the counter with a look of approachable insouciance. Women gathered around him, impressed by his muscular build at such an age. They spoke of nothing but themselves, feigning perfection, and Keaton did a perfect job at feigning interest.

Alec chose an empty table smack in the middle of everything. He cleared away the half eaten food, sat down, and listened.

“Well you’d think he’d know better-”

“-and it’s that simple!”

“It’s too late to not be drunk yet.”

“Oh damn it! This was my best shirt!”

“Anything I can get for ya’?”

Alec looked up. A bar maid stood with a hand on his table and a suggestive smile on her thin lips. She had a violet colored tattoo running across the length of her forehead in the form of a dying tree, and thick purple makeup smudged her eyes. She had watched him when he came through the door with that tall brother of his and had been finding excuses to strike up a conversation with him ever since. He looked her up and down in a way that made her heart throb.

Then all he said was, “no,” and looked away.

She frowned. “You sure? It’s on me.”

He ignored her and she stared at the simple way he had dismissed her. Hurt, she turned and left the rude boy at his table.

“-with a teeny, tiny stone in their skin.”

Alec’s head jerked in the direction of the table beside his. It was a heavy set man with crumbs in his beard and anxiety in his sunken eyes that had spoken.

“Where’d you hear this Rick?” One of the five men at his table asked with clear disbelief.

Rick jutted out his chin. “The librarian and his daughter be talkin’ bout it. And they wasn’t lyin!”

“So some guy says a bunch of little kids with rocks in their skin-“ another began, but Rick cut him off.

“Five youth. And they only have but one little stone in their skin. Each.”

The hair on the back of Alec’s neck prickled.

The one waved his hand with disregard to Rick’s correction and continued. “Five kids with rocks in their skin be the only ones that can get Beckom off the throne?”

“No. He said that-”

“You are drunk!” His friends laughed at him.

“No I’m telling you-” Rick cut off when he saw Alec, who just then realized he was leaning so far forward that his chair balanced on two legs. The rest of the men looked at him irritated.

He relaxed his posture, letting the back legs of his chair slam the floor with a jolt.

“Can we help you with somethin’ lil boy?” Rick asked in a tone that sparked Alec’s temper. “You need help findin’ your mommy or somethin’?”

Alec said nothing, but thought of all the different ways he could humble this group of pigs.

“Why don’t you get outta’ here kid.” One said into his mug and took a long swig.

He wondered if any of them had experience with fighting besides their meaningless bar fights that they were too drunk to remember. Probably not.

“What are you, deaf?” Rick spoke again. “He said get out!”

Decided, Alec smiled devilishly and stood. The men watched with confidence that slowly turned to confusion when Alec strolled to stand behind Rick.

He put a hand on Rick’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. He stunk of alcohol and sweat. “Careful old man. For I was raised by one of the finest armies, trained with Drekkers in the north, and have mastered more weapons than you’ll ever see in your pathetic life time.”

Rick only laughed. “Trained with Drekkers, he says!”

The rest chortled and drank with amused smiles.

“No human trains with Drekkers! They’d never allow it.”

Alec grinned and flicked the knife hidden in his sleeve to his hand, though no one seemed to notice.

This would be fun.

A firm hand caught his wrist and he looked up to see Keaton who shook his head and let go.

“Is there a problem?” He asked loud enough for the men to hear. He knew his brother could have easily taken all five guys, but he hated to see him fight. Alec would always be Keaton’s little brother-despite his age-and he never would have chosen this life for him given the choice, though Alec certainly would.

“You better keep your friend in line,” Rick growled. “Or he’s gonna’ get hurt.”

“I didn’t interrupt for my brother’s sake gentlemen.” His warm smile didn’t match the implication in his words.

“Oh really? What’s he gonna’ do?” One retorted.

“Aw come on Keat,” Alec complained. “They’re asking for it.”

“They’re practically begging,” he agreed. “But we have to get moving.”

Alec suddenly recalled what the man had said earlier and forgot the impending fight entirely. He grabbed Keaton by the arm and pulled him towards the door, leaving the men slightly confused and agitated.

“I’ve got something to tell you.”

Keaton’s eyes brightened. “News on the king?”

“No. It’s much better.”

The prologue of my soon to be published novel, The Black Amethyst!

And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is The Book of Life: And the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.

And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.

Revelation 20:12, 15

Preface

"Hearken when Michael speaketh, for I am he that stands in the presence of God."

-Apocalypse of Paul 42

  

“Saint Michael. Ruler of the fourth heaven, guardian of the keys to the two kingdoms, and conqueror of our fallen brother.”

The mighty and glorious Archangel.

The one to slay the serpent.

Yes. Michael was all of these things, but even more, he was my brother. And I feared for his fate now.

“Thou hath been judged and tried by the Father, the Seven Angels of Armageddon, and the Court of Machon for your crime against the Father and His kingdom.”

If only they could understand mine and Michael’s pain.

If only there was another way to save Her.

“For the crime thou so thoughtlessly committed, the Father has mercifully granted you a single choice between two.”

There was a surprised and hopeful murmur among thousands of white cloaked angels. I saw Michael’s one and only eternal soul mate amongst them; her soft soul wept tears that shimmered silver as they fell through the glistening floors. She and I both knew that Michael would not amend his sin if blessed with the chance. He did it for Mother and he would accept the consequences that follow.

“The first option we grant thee, and pray with the fullness of our souls that thou wilt choose, is full pardon and forgiveness to you and yours if thou wilt recover what you have hidden on the Earth.”

My brother, whom I loved so much, stood before the court steadfast and immovable. His hair shone like sunlight and his eyes were as blue and soft as an Earth’s winter.

“The second option, and the one we plead thee not to take, is a punishment to fit the crime.”

This day would be nearly as famous in all angelic history as the day The Morning Star fell.

The day the Archangel Michael chose punishment over pardon.

“I would suffer anything,” my brother whispered. “Before I would condemn my innocent mother to face the tormenting waves of The Lake of Fire.”

More angels broke into the soft song of tears, a tragic and haunting melody that echoed through the golden court. They loved him almost as much as I, and with a heavy heart I found myself wishing I could take his place. It should have been me to hide the evil thing on the Earth! It should be me standing trial and receiving punishment!

The seventh angel leaned towards Michael. “Is it punishment you so chose?”

“It is punishment I so request,” he replied softly. “If mine own mother may be tricked into a Hellish fate, then I shall choose it by mine own sane will!”

The angel sat back, and concern for my only brother’s sentence picked away at my soul. “Very well,” the angel said sadly. “The punishment, decided by the Lord and the Father, is banishment and exile from the Kingdom of Heaven. The term of proclaimed banishment will last only as long as the sacred instrument is hidden and will be lifted the hour it is returned.”

There was a wale of sorrow from the angels. Earth was a cruel and lonely place.

“As an addition to the punishment!” The angel continued over the sounds of saddened angels, his voice heard by all. “You, Saint Michael, will not be carrying out the term of the banishment, but rather, five other angels shall take thy place to assure that the return of the sacred instrument is guaranteed! They shall be removed of their heavenly memory and be branded with a mark of heaven to aid in finding one another. Among your sister, the remaining four angels are-“

Now, instead of a soft weeping, there was a burst of waling, shock, and devastation that thundered through the grand court as the angel declared the four angels that would be accompanying me to Earth.

“Daughter of the Archangel Azrial! Eldest son of the Archangel Uriel! Eldest son of the Archangel Rapheal! And brother to the Archangel Gabriel!”

Angels sobbed, unable to fathom the punishment given. They knew too well that their fallen brother, Samuel, would fight to temp and corrupt the five angels on Earth, where he and his own have power.

I would accept this punishment of course, but would I be strong enough to return? Too many angels fell into the grasp of the worldly pleasures. Without mine own heavenly memory, how would I remember who I was? Would I remember Michael? Would I remember the Father? Surely I would not know what I was sent to do; I would not know mine own purpose.

The Earth used to be a beautiful place, so I’d heard from older and wiser souls. The birthplace of the very first bodies, and the origin of The Garden. Spirits loved and lived together there once, even so much as a vicious beast lying with the quintessence of innocence and fragility.

But that was in the beginning, before men grew wicked and knew their true identity as God’s natural enemy. The race of man had fallen many earthly years ago. Without having the sacred instrument, The Father could not call on the last days. He allowed disasters such as floods, fires, storms, and many other catastrophic things to tear apart his creation, His creation that he so lovingly declared as a home for his angels to feel and learn. Few souls dwelled there now, only the strongest and most courageous or the most wicked and vindictive. Samuel has let his fallen angels fly upon that cursed world, leaving them to do as they please; and they so please to desecrate.

Will I be strong enough?

Michael was staring at me, his eyes brimming with guilt and pain that I could feel all the way from across the grand court. He knew what the earth was like, and I saw the anguish he felt for being the reason his sister would be sent there.

I tried to smile, to let him know that it was going to be okay, that I would be okay. But I could tell he knew me better.

Wish granted.