The Mark: The Beast Rules the World Read online

  The decimation of the world’s population was reflected in the workforce at GC headquarters. What had once been its own bustling metropolis was now a shell of itself. The crowds that used to consist of enthusiastic employees were now made up of tourists and pilgrims, necks craned to catch a glimpse of someone famous.

  In the distance David saw visitors crowded around one of the outdoor TV monitors that broadcast GC news twenty-four hours a day. He moseyed over and stood unnoticed at the back. The new Most High Reverend of Carpathianism, Leon Fortunato, held forth from his new office.

  David could only shake his head. Leon stood before a pulpit-type lectern, but his height had seemed to change. A husky, swarthy man a tick under six feet tall, Leon wore a long burgundy-and-navy robe that flattered his physique. But when the late Peter Mathews—in a gaudy, silly-looking robe—had stood at the same podium, he had looked shorter than Leon, despite that he was several inches over six feet. Leon had to be standing on some sort of box or platform!

  He reported on the worldwide competition to see which locales and regions led in the race to complete their replicas of the Carpathia statue. Of course, the United Carpathian States had an insurmountable lead, but the rest of the world competed for second place.

  The report was dotted with feeds from all over the globe, showing how many communities had tried to make unique their version of the statue. Regulations stipulated that the replicas had to be at least life-size and monochromatic, but none could be as large as the original. Past that, local committees were free to exercise creativity. Most of the statues were black, but many were gold, some crystal, some fiberglass, one green, one orange, and several were twice life-size (or half the size of the original). Fortunato seemed particularly pleased with those two and announced plans to personally visit those sites.

  “In the interest of full disclosure, it falls to me to report that while Israel has several replica statues in cities as disparate as Haifa and Tel Aviv, Jerusalem has not even begun theirs.” Leon switched into his deep bass, solemn voice. “Speaking under the authority of the risen potentate, I say woe! Woe and beware to the enemies of the lord of this globe who would thumb their noses in the face of the most high!”

  Here he switched to Uncle Leon mode, sounding like a beloved relative reading a bedtime story. “But you know, while I have been imbued with power from on high to perform all the miracles that our beloved leader performs, and whereas I have proven this power by calling down fire from heaven to destroy the disloyal, your lord, His Excellency, is the embodiment of love and forgiveness and long-suffering. Against my counsel and better judgment, though I defer to his divine wisdom, the Supreme Potentate has asked me to announce that he knows he has devout followers in the capital of the Holy Land. Their loving lord shall not forget those loyal pilgrims, suffering under the insanity and subversion of the very leaders who have been charged with responsibility for the spiritual health of their souls.

  “One week from today, the object of our adoration shall personally visit his children in Jerusalem. He will be there not only to deal forthrightly with those who oppose him—for he is, besides being a loving god, a just god—but also to bless and accept worship and praise from the citizens otherwise without voice.

  “As your global pastor, let me urge the countless oppressed Carpathianists living under the thumb of misguided rebels in Jerusalem to bravely show your support to the one worthy of all honor and glory when he arrives in your home city. May it be a triumphal entry like none before it. Let me, on his behalf, personally guarantee your safety and protection against any form of retribution you might otherwise have suffered for your doing the right thing in the face of powerful opposition.

  “We know that the leadership there has a thin majority of Judah-ites and Orthodox Jews who risk the vengeance of their god by continuing with their suicidal lunacy. Unless they see the error of their ways and come on bent knee to beg forgiveness of their lord, new leadership will be in place before His Excellency leaves that great city.

  “And to those who swear that the temple is off-limits to the potentate himself, I say, dare not come against the army of the lord of hosts. He is a god of peace and reconciliation, but thou shalt have no other gods before him. There shall not be erected or allowed to stand any house of worship anywhere on this planet that does not recognize His Excellency as its sole object of devotion. Nicolae Carpathia, the potentate, is risen!”

  The crowd around the TV shouted the customary response, and David said silently, “Jesus the Christ is risen indeed.”

  Fortunato reminded the world that within two days, all statues must be completed and open for worship. “And, as you know, the first one hundred cities with finished and approved units will be the first to be awarded loyalty mark application centers.”

  Leon had aides bring into view a flip chart he could reach from whatever he was standing on, and David noticed that as they came into view, his proximity made him look seven feet tall. Fortunato used a pointer to show the standard mark application facility. It contained a staging area, where several thousand at a time would be herded through crowd-control barriers, entertained by recorded speeches from Carpathia and Fortunato. Every four minutes, a replay would show Fortunato’s calling down fire from heaven on dissidents and Carpathia’s actual resurrection. He paused to let the picture roll, and David had to look away. The tourists cheered the broadcast.

  Fortunato returned to his demonstration drawing. The citizens would feed into a dozen or two dozen open-air booths—depending on the size of the city and the crowd—where they would be asked to decide on the design and size of their mark and whether they wanted it on their foreheads or the backs of their right hands.

  “A friendly reminder,” Fortunato said with a grin. “Should you procrastinate on your decision or forget due to your excitement, the standard injection will be made on your right hand, depicting the prefix that identifies your region, next to the thin scar that evidences injection of the biochip.

  “We have been asked repeatedly how we are precluding counterfeit marks. While it may be impossible for any but highly skilled and trained observers to tell a fake mark from the real, biochip scanners cannot be fooled. We are so confident of the 100 percent reliability of this technology that anyone whose biochip is not authenticated by a scanner will be subject to execution without appeal. A readable, implanted biochip will be required for standard trade and commerce.

  “And yes, we will have loyalty enforcement facilitators at every mark application site.”

  To David’s surprise, this announcement was illustrated by footage of a huge, gleaming guillotine, and Fortunato actually punctuated it with a hearty laugh. “I can’t imagine any citizen of the Global Community having to worry about such a device, unless he or she is still mired in the cult of the Judah-ites or Orthodox Judaism. Frankly, only the blind or those without access to television have not seen the resurrection of our god and ruler, so I can’t imagine skeptics remain outside Jerusalem. Well, as you can see,” and he laughed again, “they will not remain long.”

  Fortunato then hefted a huge stack of letters and printouts. “These, my friends, are applications from those who want to be first to show their loyalty to His Excellency by proudly having their marks applied right here in New Babylon. Any citizen from any region may have his or her mark applied here, though the code number will coincide with your home region. There is a limit to the number we can accommodate, so get your application in quickly or plan to have yours applied in your local center.

  “Does the application hurt? It does not. With technology so advanced and local anesthesia so effective, you will feel only the pressure of the biochip inserter. By the time any discomfort would have passed, the anesthetic will still be working.

  “Bless you, my friends, in the name of our risen lord and master, His Excellency the Potentate, Nicolae Carpathia.”

  Rayford returned to his bed drowsier but still unable to sleep. He spent an hour noodling assignments for the
Force and finally concluded that Albie and Buck ought to go to Greece. He needed to stay for the sake of morale, and Buck needed to be able to expose the close-mindedness of the Carpathia regime.

  With that settled, Rayford drifted off, planning to get Buck yet another new ID from Zeke in the morning and assign David a little more way-paving from his perch in New Babylon.

  David informed the head of Food Services that Supreme Commander Hickman had need of the largest live pig available for Carpathia’s Israel visit. Then he stopped in his office to check his computer before his appointment with Hannah. He found an urgent e-mail from Ming Toy.

  “I did not know whom else to write to,” she said. “I was distraught to hear of your loss and can only pray God’s strength for you. I cannot imagine your pain.

  “Mr. Hassid, have you seen my family since I left there? Last I heard, they had not seen you. I am most troubled. They have been awarded free accommodations until Chang has been processed for employment, and my father is thrilled beyond words. Mother is silent as usual, but I have heard directly from Chang, and he is desperate. He says the last thing he wants is to work for the GC, yet my father insists. Having his son serve Carpathia is the highest honor he can imagine.

  “Chang has heard that all employees will receive the mark within a few weeks, but there is a rumor that new employees hired during this time may be the first to have it applied. Have you heard that? Could it be true? It makes sense in its own way. Why hire someone without knowing up front that they are loyal? And it saves their losing work time later just to stand in line for their marks.

  “Father is insistent that Chang initiate his paperwork through Personnel immediately and is eager to see him among the very first to take the mark, especially if Father can witness this himself. Chang is ready to admit to my father that he is a believer in Jesus and, yes, could accurately be called a Judah-ite, but he is afraid of two things. One, that Father would report him, and two, that he would demand to know the truth about me. Trust me, Mr. Hassid; I know my father. He would sell us both out to prove his loyalty to Carpathia and the GC.

  “I am urging my brother not to admit anything to Father, and yet I do not know how long he can avoid being tested to the ultimate. The only way to keep from officially applying for work there is to run away or tell my father the truth. Can you help in any way? I am sorry to trouble you with this during such a terrible time for you.

  “Rest assured that I am praying for you. And while I assume you know this, Leah reports that your compatriots in the safe house are also upholding you daily.

  “With utmost respect and honor, your sister in Christ, Ming Toy.”

  David called Personnel. “Can you give me the status on a Chang Wong?”

  “Yes, sir. Impressive résumé. Mentioned publicly, at least among the brass, by Carpathia. A no-brainer. He’s going to work here as soon as we can get him processed. Only question is where. I suppose you want him; everybody else does.”

  “Can’t say for sure. Just wondering.”

  “Your area makes the most sense. You wouldn’t turn him down, would you?”

  “Too early to tell, but I’m not a follower. Just because everybody wants him doesn’t mean I should be desperate to snag him.”

  “True enough. But he’d be an asset.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Don’t know. We expected him yesterday. It’s in his court. He completes the paperwork, makes his app official, and we make an offer.”

  “And if he accepts?”

  “He’s in.”

  “He’s not graduated high school.”

  “We have tutors. He could teach high school.”

  “When would he start?”

  “A few days. Delay would be because of the new freeze. You saw that, right?”

  “No.”

  “Should have it in your e-mail.”

  David didn’t want to appear too eager. “I’ll find it. Thanks.”

  “You want this kid if we can get him?”

  David had to think fast. If he got him and then David and the others disappeared, the kid could be found out as an enemy of the state. But if their disappearance looked like an accident, there would be no suspicion of them or anyone they associated with. On the other hand, if taking the mark was prerequisite to hiring, the issue was moot. The kid would refuse, the father would turn him in, end of story. David would not be under suspicion for wanting him or spending time with him.

  “Would I be able to do a preliminary with him?”

  “Interview? Hmm. Not protocol, but I don’t see the harm.”

  “Where’s he staying?”

  “Four-oh-five-four.”

  That close to Hannah. Wonder if she knows? “Thanks.”

  David hurried to the hospital. Hannah greeted him professionally and asked the typical questions about bleeding, discomfort, and pain. Then she asked him to follow her to a private room for removal of the stitches.

  “You look OK but distracted,” she said, dousing his head with disinfectant and soaking the bandage.

  “Can’t imagine why,” he groused.

  “Sarcasm? Remember, I’m on your side.”

  “Did you know the Wongs are staying on your floor?”

  “Who are the Wongs?”

  David smacked himself in the forehead.

  “Terrific,” she said. “So much for sterility. Close your eyes.” He obeyed and she doused him again. “So, who are the Wongs?”

  He told her the story.

  “What’re you going to do?” she said.

  “Bug their room.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I can do anything.”

  “I’m gathering that. But how?”

  “I’d tell you, but then—”

  “Yeah, I know, you’d have to kill me.” She looked embarrassed to have said that with his having just lost his fiancée. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “My fault,” he said. “I started it.”

  She lightly tugged at the bandage, making his eyes water. “Bear with me,” she said, squirting more liquid.

  “That stuff supposed to make it easier?”

  “We tell ourselves that,” she said. “Fortunately, you had a good surgeon. Oh, yeah, it was me. I cut enough hair that all we’re dealing with is scalp and wound and stitches. Imagine if there was hair too.”

  “I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Think about something else and I’ll hurry.”

  “You can’t just yank it?”

  “Not with stitches. Those have to come out the right way. If I pull one out with the bandage, you’re on the ceiling. Now try to get your mind on something else.”

  “Like what?”

  She stopped and put her wrists on her hips, careful to keep her gloved hands from touching anything. “David, I hardly know you. How would I know what you have to think about?”

  He shrugged.

  “Think about freedom,” she said. “About being away from here forever.”

  “You call that freedom? It’s just another form of prison.”

  “I’ve been wondering about that,” she said. “It has to be less tension, don’t you think?”

  “Different kind, I guess. Ow!”

  “Sorry. Be brave. Tell me more.”

  “Well, we won’t have to worry about who’s watching and listening and whether my secure e-mail and phone connections have been compromised. We won’t have to worry that we’ve already been found out and they’re just letting us hang ourselves and expose others before they arrest us.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” she said.

  “But we’ll never be free again. We’ll be fugitives.”

  “So you’ve already ash-canned my idea.”

  “No, why? I assigned it to Mac and Abdullah.”

  “Because if it works, no one’s even looking for us. We get new IDs, change our looks, and start over.”

  “But without the loyalty mark.”

  She hesi
tated. “Well, yes, there is that. Hold on. There we go.” She held before his eyes the long bandage in a pair of surgical scissors. Besides disinfectant, it showed his blood and the imprint of his wound, two staples, and several stitches.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said. “Totally off the subject.”

  “You mean may I?”

  “Ah, one of those. Showing off your education.”

  “Sorry. Incurable.”

  “I guess we’ll need a grammar cop at the safe house, in case Tsion and Buck are out. Anyway, why do you people think we want to see that stuff? The yucky bandage, I mean.”

  “Yucky?” She morphed into baby talk. “Does he hate to see that yucky stuff?”

  “Doctors and nurses are forever doing what you just did. Just remove it and toss it. You think I need to see it or I won’t pay?”

  She shrugged.

  “You all must just love this stuff,” he said. “That’s all I can figure. By the way, you never said anything about staples.”

  “You just answered your own question.”

  “I’m lost.”

  “I showed you so you know what’s next. The stitches are separate, so they come out individually. It’s not one of those deals where I cut or untie and then the whole thing just sort of tickles as it comes looping out. It won’t hurt, but there are several. And there are two staples that have to stay in till the stitches are out, just in case, to hold everything together. When the stitches are gone, I’ll know whether the scar can contain that big brain of yours. Then I have to get under each of those two staples, one at a time, with a wire cutter.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, sir. I cut through the staple—”

  “Ouch.”

  “Not if you don’t flinch.”