Thursday, February 26, 2015

Prologue Chapter Three: Somewhere in Chile



He knew they were searching for him, and that it was only a matter of time until they found him and killed him. In his heart he knew there were others hiding somewhere, but officially he was the last person in the world to have taken the “virus.”
The thought didn’t bother him however, he sat at his terminal, smiling, cutting up the text of the Masters file to hide it in a warfare simulation of 17th century England. Finished, he erased his tracks so nobody knew what he’d done, turned off the power to his device and spoke to his cat as was his custom, “A good deys werk Covie.”

There was a knock at the door.
The interrogator reported his visitor’s native language was English, but rather than get up he merely yelled from his seat, “Yes?”
The voice was muffled, but heard clearly enough, “Decklan I need your help, I’m in trouble.”
He got up and looked out the window but could see only blackness.
“Turn on yer com I.D.”
“I can’t, they’d find me. Oh, they’re close, hurry, let me in!”
“Oh, verra well.”
No sooner had he opened the door than the three men began firing at him with silenced weapons. The bullets knocked his body backwards into the wall and he sunk to the floor, bleeding out.

“Was he alone?” A woman’s voice.
“Si.” A mans.
“Check anyway.”
The nearest two stepped around him on their way to the kitchen, while the third bent down, staring intently into his unconcerned face.
“Do you know why we’ve beaten you this day?”
“Aye.” His breathing was hard, and his answer came out between gasps, “providence.”
As if to clarify more fully what that meant the dying Scot sent over a small text file telepathically. The soldier slung the rifle to his back, saw it was too small to be the forbidden one, and used his neural implants to accept and open it. 

[The Master directs us all, disposes as He sees fit, and governs all creatures, all actions, all things-from the greatest to the least. He does so through His limitless and infallible knowledge, freely by His own council and will. You, soldier, are also under His control, but it will go badly for you if you do not join Him. The Master will not be stopped or made a servant of. He is above you.]

The soldier thought back at him:
[Your master has not the strength to spare even a single one of you. What does your providence have to say about that?]

He struggled noticeably to catch his breath, and the response was his last.
[The Master, most wise, righteous, and gracious, does oftentimes for a season leave us to trouble and the corruption of our hearts, that we might be humbled, and see all the more clearly how we depend on Him.]

The soldier stood up, unpersuaded by the argument, but out of habit brought out the portable scanner to check himself for the spike in his mind that would mean the alien had tampered with him. It read negative, he was clean. The other two came back and connected with him mind-to-mind to report their search results more efficiently,
[One tablet, one obsolete computer, both in our possession. No other persons present. All is clear.]

The lead soldier gave a thumbs up and filed a report through the long range communicator on his helmet, “Force command, this is fire team Ypres, the hostile has been eliminated, reporting the city clean of infestation.”
“Well done Ypres. Our database says he was the last of them.”


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