PmWiki | Tripocalypse / ClockIn

(Continued from http://mousehole-mouse.blogspot.com/2015/10/for-love-of-whatever-its-called-show.html The blue text is from the original book)

Kenny reached for Vicki's hand, and she sang him songs and helped him get to sleep that night, with the promise of exploring Petra in the morning. When daylight came, Vicki, Judd, and Kenny walked along the rocks and watched the people gather manna.

Hasina cocks the shotgun next to the aviator's head.

"Water! Clean, filtered! Listen! Hundreds... thousands of gallons... as much as you want..."

She eases off the trigger.

"Where?"

"Not far. Ten, maybe twenty miles. Not even pumping it, they are. From a source. Gush, gush gush... Day and night. A huge pond full."

"Balls!"

"It's there, you betcha... I'll tell you straight though - it's not self service. It's under guard. Too hard for me. But a woman with your ingenuity... Jesus I reckon..."

Hasina rams the barrel against the aviator's head.

"Don't say that. Just don't. Now, clean water - the only good source left on the planet if I'm any judge. So you did make it inside Petra."

She eases off.

"... well, not quite, I got to the west gate, to try and trade, they closed the east gate and turned that into some sort of trading post, just... they weren't interested. They have everything they need in there! Manna and quail. Just shows up every evening. The birds just lie down and die. I've seen them. That's how I got my meat."

Hasina let the emaciated man go. "You said they didn't trade. So why have a trading post at all?"

"Not that stuff. Sacred. Gift from God or something!" The aviator points to what's left of his ride, front gear and rotor bent. "I've been flying through the flock. Hit a few. Land. Scrape it off. Then I hit a damn pigeon... They've got everything in there. Everything they want. Water, food, power... computers... And I'm left out here scavenging!"

The outer city of Petra, over the walls, was pretty much deserted: who the skirmishes between GC and militia hadn't driven away, infrastructure collapse had. Looting had stopped being worth it. Hasina put the gun away and looked at the wild-eyed man. "Where do you come from?"

"Pacific States. Australia. It's been... pretty brutal over there. The violence never stopped, it got just a bit worse every day. The GC is just another gang. I worked out a deal with a Remnant convoy to get to Europe, did the whole Jesus song and dance even, then one day they just sort of... figured I was lying. Found an airplane, did evacuation, ferrying... until there was nobody left. Then I hit a bloody pigeon. I'm me own man. Even if I end up feeding the snakes, I'm me own man."

Hasina hands her canteen to the man. He drank quickly but efficiently, not a drop lost. Clearly someone used to dehydration.

"Hasina."

"Jed."

"You're obviously not GC." Hasina's armor was anything but regulation, precious scraps of titanium chainmail worn between civvies and fatigues in arctic camo. "Neither are you."

"Listen. I can't get into Petra at all. Some sort of magic. Maybe you can. Maybe we can find someone who can. We have to route their storm drains away from the sewers. CATS - that's the telephone folks - can get some tanker trucks to a reservoir, distribute it."

"Why? You can't sell it yourself, what's in it for you?"

"Because it'll lessen the load on the filtration system. My guys say that even if we defeat Jesus when He shows up, the infrastructure won't last three years..."

"Oh. Altruist. Right. Uh, two of us, we can cart a shop vise here and trying to fix my rig. I'd owe you a ride."

Hasina let Jed lead on to one of the few buildings that still had power. If she was lucky she'd find an angel. If not, at least, water rationing in Jerusalem would be postponed. Not the sort of mission she set on, but it'd be a start.

When the time came, Chang Wong linked by video with the group in Wisconsin so they could see the ceremony. Judd and Vicki had chosen a beautiful spot overlooking the spring of water. Everyone said Vicki looked lovely in her dress. When Vicki saw Judd, she tried to keep from crying but couldn’t. She wished her family could have been there to share the moment. She wished she could have met Judd’s mom and dad.

"And that's the best we can do. Can't get in, but at least we got surveillance."

Kruno Fulcire had stormed into the admin building pretty much as if he was breaching it; the router room was holding as many soldiers as technician.

"...A wedding? You're forcing our men to use teletypes just so that you can put the video of a wedding between traitors on the satellite?"

"Commander, you wanted surveillance. Never mind the wedding. Look past that, look into the corners of the picture. Their water source. Building layouts. Surely as soon as your men figure out how to enter Petra, this will come in handy?"

Fulcire sneered - he wasn't about to lose an argument with a pencil neck. "I want tapes of these details on my desk first thing tomorrow morning!"

"Consider it done" the Foreman answered. "Anything else we can do for you?"

"Just keep the damn phones working. Troops! Move out! To the airfield!"

The Foreman waved goodbye to the soldiers. Making sure the Remnant kept the illusion of a functioning Internet, rather than the patched-up mess that they had to come up with for a communication networks after all the disasters, was their best bet to work out a timeline for the return of Jesus.

They had figured out a reliable way to temporarily get rid of Empyreans -- the Jacobite Armor project had worked, and even now survey teams were in the Mojave boneyards scrapping warplanes into chainmail -- but they still had to sort out a live capture. The weirding modules, of course, hadn't worked. Still, sound...

And maintaining any sort of support from the GC did depend on keeping the damn phones working, as it paid for everything else.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways" the Foreman mused "That is why we will need a biopsy."

Lionel sat forward and pulled up a map of the region. The site of the arrests wasn't that far from the Avery, Wisconsin, hideout. He quickly sent a warning message to Mark and the others. ^

Mark Eisman held his head in his hands while several people filed out of the main cabin in Wisconsin. Maggie Carlson put a hand on his shoulder before she left. Others weren't so kind, with mean looks and whispers.

"Doctor Rose, I got movement."

"Ack that, Joel."

After the third attempt, Joel Hodgson had given up trying to get the Mark removed; it came back, the RFID chip literally teleporting back on his forehead. The theology guys were working on a way to turn that into an advantage, but hadn't gotten much out of that so far.

For the last while, Joel had been running interference. Rural Wisconsin was far enough away from strategic, political and theological importance that the Global Community had turned it into a sort of dumping ground for the incompetent.

Then, Fulcire had come back. The man was nominally in charge of security for the Middle East, but with the food and water shortages going on, he had estabilished a personal presence in North America, being the ever-dutiful hunter of rebel on the airwaves and a warlord only nominally operating under Carpathia's aegis the rest of the time.

Joel had reconnected with his own militia group, using CATS' intel to raid Fulcire's storehouses any time the big man was in the Middle East or flying, pinning the blame on Remnant when he could be arsed. It helped with the bouts of depression which, Dr. Rose assured him, were simply a result of divine interference. Joel had just kept going.

Today he was alone, staking out a Remnant compound. As usual, they weren't doing much of anything... except for this Mark guy. Maybe there could be room for cooperation.

"Joel, be advised, we've effectively lost warehouses 13, 20 and 21."

"What happened?"

"Chloe Steele is dead. Her replacement, Mr. Whalum, won't honor the deal."

Joel grunted an ack into the radio. That so, huh? Maybe it was time for a different sort of raid for once.

Mark rolled his clothes and a small supply of food into his sleeping bag and tied it tightly. He slipped a gun Zeke had left behind into his pocket, but Mark knew there was no way he could overpower the GC. He would have to outsmart them rather than outgun them.

"You know, we could have made a lot of money if we'd have gotten this recipe before the Tribulation started," Vicki said. "Even people who were overweight when they came here have lost pounds eating this."

"There's people actually starving out there, you American bitch."

Hasina and Jed had figured out a way under the city of Petra, if not in; going through the sewer themselves. After the first two attempts to emerge, which simply took them back out of the city gates, they worked out a way to work without being seen. They had spent the last week carting quick-set through pipes and catacombs to make a separate path for the source's water, away from Petra's waste. They had been seen a few times, by maintenance workers, and found themselves out of the gate again. Sometimes, they got close enough to hear the people above.

"It's like a video game. Push continue, try again."

"... You know, I understand why you're doing this. The water, I mean. But - you look mad. You're spoiling for a fight."

Hasina nodded. "I am." One more wall to go up, then shift a valve and - fresh water right into what used to be some rich guy's pool. Working ankle deep in human waste is something you get used to, and the first pool-load would probably have to be flushed out, but so it went. "Every time anyone tries to do something about all this - something big - an angel shows up and stops it."

"Is that it then? We're angel bait? Throw a wrench in the divine plan of everyone dying miserably?"

"You're bait. I'm the trap."

Jeb didn't answer. He and Hasina kept shoveling shit and cement, the last three bags, with any luck. Three T-joints up, at the valve, for a moment, all the shadows ceased.

Above, Vicki cleaned up the breakfast table. As she flushed down the leftovers, she compared her life to that of others, even in Petra, who hadn't been as fortunate.

"I met a woman a few days ago who has family in Jerusalem. She doesn't think they've taken Carpathia's mark, but there's no way to tell. She can't reach them."

"Maybe we can bring this up with Dr. BenJudah," Judd said.

They finished breakfast, then took a long walk to the fountain. It was one of Vicki's favorite things to do -- walk hand in hand with Judd around the sprawling camp, watching people, looking at the rock formations, meeting new friends. Vicki couldn't imagine being any happier. ^

"Hands up! Don't make any false moves, hear me? Huh?"

The man in the robe answered calmly. "I never do."

Jed kept in front of Hasina, shotgun trained on the apparition. "Who are you, huh?"

"I am Anis. You must turn back. Petra is a haven for the believers, and not for you to dwell in."

"We're not staying. Get out. I'm just here to turn a valve." Jed was trying to work out why being seen didn't trip the teleport effect... maybe it only worked with humans. This one clearly wasn't. For one, the wings were a clear giveaway. Behind him, Hasina had put down the shovel.

"The living waters will not provide succor to reprobates."

Jed kept advancing, with Hasina just a step back. She hadn't said a word. "Balls. There's people dying of thirst. Get out of the way."

"You cannot stop me from stopping you. Your weapon is useless. I am a messenger; the sanction is decided."

Shotgun trained on the angel, Jed walked forward and put a hand on the valve. The angel's hand shone with a yellow light, and touched Jed's, causing the limb to fall limp at his side. "You chose poorly."

And that's when Hasina, who had followed Jed meekly throughout the tunnel, stepped to the side and grabbed the angel's wing. Reflexively, the divine messenger spread them to push her off, hurting itself in the narrow tunnel. Hasina grabbed the wing roots, yanked, and kicked the angel solidly in the middle of its back. The two landed in the sewage, Anis pinned down with Hasina on its back.

The angel lifted a hand, the crud falling off it as if it was teflon, and touched Hasina's hip, as had happened with Jacob in the days of old. The titanium chainmail fizzled and sparked, after which Hasina finished breaking Anis' wings.

"This is usually where they disappear. Soon as I look away, soon as I let go for a second, doesn't matter if they're in chains, they just disappear. R&D need a live one. We thought it was quantum lock, that I'd just have to keep an eye on them, but... no go with cameras. Keep watching it. Don't blink at the same time at me."

Jed dropped the shotgun and put his good hand on the valve, then thought of it again. "Wait. It's got a mission, sort of thing, right? This one is supposed to stop us from getting clean water out."

"Yeah?"

"Okay, so, say I don't open this. As long as this asshole is around, we don't open this. That means it's technically winning, right?"

"... Worth a try. If he disappears, we get back here and open the floodgate. Gimme a hand carrying it out?"

Jed found that he still couldn't move his arm. "Yeah, about that...."

"Oh, it's stuck that way. Sorry. Jacob from the Bible walked with a limp the rest of his life."

"What!"

"Means you'll have to get the ligament stitched, don't worry. Medicine's moved on a bit since the Bronze Age. You'll be in a cast for a week, though, so guess we're medevaccing you out."

With three hands, it took the best part of an hour to get a whimpering Anis out of the sewers. Hasina kept jostling the broken wings.

"You want to hurt it" Jed realized.

"I had a guy. Taylor. We were in a militia. The Global Community is why he died. This piece of shit is why he's in Hell. I'll get him out if I have to dig there with my bare hands."

"Thou shalt not-" the angel started before being punched on the broken wing joint again.

Chang shook his head. "No way. They must be jamming that area for some reason. When did you send your email?"

"About forty minutes ago," Lionel said as Chang punched information into the computer.

"Look at this," Chang said. "The GC intercepted your message. It never got to your friends." "What? How could they--?" Chang clicked on the e-mail from Kruno Fulcire's aide. He pointed at the bottom of the screen. "See this? It's code for the higherups. I think they've finally broken into the Young Trib Force Web site." "No," Lionel gasped.

"I.T.?"

"The GC knuckledraggers finally figured out that it's us who have been running the internet around Petra. I had to tell them something, so I gave them a bunch of Hollywood-hacker crap about breaking into their website and reading their comms."

"Do we tip the Remnant off?"

"They can damn well sort each other out. I'm sorry, but we don't have the resources to keep the body count down from these skirmishes anymore."

Truth is, they could barely do their putative job of keeping communications running; keeping all the little subfactions from escalating what was intended to be Earth's final conflict was simply no longer an option. The big timer said 175 days until Armageddon, a jump from 178 that morning after Timeline analyzed Dr. Ben-Judah's daily webcast.

Save a few lives now, or focus on stopping complete annihilation later? Textbook ethical dilemma.

"Foreman! We got a live one!"

"Where?"

"Just outside Petra. Hasina's bagged an angel!"

"Arright. Drop everything but essential maintenance, we need to get the containment cell there right now! How much fuel do we have left for the Sykorsky?"

The Foreman would find time later to figure out what choosing the long view meant from a moral standpoint. Maybe. If there was time.

"That's not the worst news. Looks like the GC has a location for your friends. If we don't alert them, they're dead."