Babylon (Eden Saga Book 2) Page 18

  “Four,” Alexandra said. “Repeat: execution imminent.”

  “We have no wings here,” Morin said. “Can you assist?”

  Alexandra sighed. What could she possibly do?

  She responded with another question. “Can you mobilize?”

  “Already underway, AC.”

  AC? Oh – her initials. She was learning the ebb and flow of the brief, information packed style of communication.

  “ETA?” she asked, proud of herself for catching on so quickly.

  “Two weeks.”

  The response landed on her like a boulder. What was her play with the execution and birthday celebration looming? She couldn’t wait for the cavalry to arrive. She also couldn’t just walk up to Padre Hernon and-

  An idea popped into her head. She wasn’t quite sure of the full plant, but it was something.

  “Understood,” she said as the plan took more shape. “Can I contact you daily with this radio?”

  “Roger that.”

  Alexandra waited in the pews for the nighttime service. People packed into the already too small house of worship like a fistful of straws in a shot glass. A young Brasilian priest began with a welcoming and the Lord’s prayer – all in Latin.

  Padre Hernon was nowhere to be seen.

  Her rickety plan wavered in her head. Could she pull it off? Was she walking down the path to suicide again?

  “Maybe it’s time for miracles,” a soft voice next to her said.

  Father Callahan.

  Alexandra knew he wasn’t there, and she was certain he’d be gone if she looked. Instead, she smiled and said, “My thoughts exactly.”

  “This is a big deal,” he said. “You sure you’re ready?”

  “Nope.”

  She turned to him, wanting to hide in the safety of his arms. Of course, he wasn’t there. A boy with unkempt hair eyed her suspiciously.

  Sighing, she wondered again how far towards insanity she had slipped.

  After about an hour of chanting, rote response and a sermon in Portuguese, the assembly dissipated. Many went home. Others stayed for confession. A few remained in silent prayer, scattered amongst the pews like buoys in the ocean.

  Alexandra loitered for a while, garnering curious looks from the citizens of Babylon, and eventually sauntered into the confession booth.

  “English?” she asked.

  A sigh. “Bless you. How long since last confession?”

  “Oh jeez, I can’t remember really. Does sharing the road with a Jesuit count?”

  The padre paused for a moment, apparently uncomfortable with his penitent’s demeanor.

  “I don’t understand,” he finally said.

  Deciding she had already wasted enough time, she said, “I have a message for Padre Hernon.”

  Another pause. “Sim?”

  “Tell him Alexandra Contreras is in his church, healing his people.”

  Without waiting for a response, she emerged from the dark booth and raised her voice.

  “The Child King has granted me the power to heal!” she said. Heads turned towards her. “Does anyone have any ailments they wish cured?”

  She repeated her proclamation in Spanish, just to be sure as many people as possible understood her. The young padre from the confessional hurried from the cathedral, giving her a wide berth.

  There was no going back now. Miracles indeed.

  A man pointed to an elderly woman in a nearby pew and spoke in Spanish. He said she shattered her hip on the journey and couldn’t walk anymore. People gathered as Alexandra placed her hands upon the woman’s broken hip and closed her eyes.

  When nothing happened, some snickers escaped from the crowd. One man deserted the scene. Some shouts of derision in Portuguese came from the rear of the church.

  Alexandra blocked it all aside and focused her thoughts. Everything depended upon this. She both needed the people’s support and Hernon’s full attention. She had healed mortal wounds, surely this wasn’t any different.

  As if in response to her bidding, the light appeared and filled the area. The wind gathered around her and rattled the bells near the altar. People gasped. Candles snuffed. Alexandra strained to push the waves of force from her palms. The old woman then jumped away from Alexandra’s touch, her eyes wide.

  Then, she said something in Portuguese and stood.

  This time, citizens ran from the church spreading the word. Someone was healing people!

  Alexandra knew this was an awful gamble. The padre could react in a violent or unpredictable way. She banked on the people’s support to keep her safe – at least long enough for a discussion with her enemy. He would hopefully refrain from shooting into a crowd.

  Time was also against her and she needed to purchase some.

  Knees shaking, she healed a boy with a horribly mangled hand. After the light retreated she marveled at his new wholeness. He hugged her and people screamed in delight, pushed forward and wept in relief. Their support strengthened her.

  Apparently, the Child King hadn’t put on a display as flashy as this.

  Woozy from the boy, Alexandra next healed another elderly woman with systemic cancer. Though the effect wasn’t blatantly noticeable, the crowd still reacted favorably to the fireworks.

  Alexandra’s vision faded for a few moments and she fell into the sturdy arms of a few of the onlookers. The constant healing was taking its toll on her body. She couldn’t keep this pace.

  Another person to heal. She concentrated and filled the chapel with brightness again. Her head spun. The world was fuzzy beyond her hands and she felt disconnected.

  Then, she heard a voice she recognized.

  “Pretender!” Padre Hernon cried from somewhere nearby. “Arrest her!”

  Chapter 19

  Alexandra battled through the thick fog of her weakness in the wake of the healing spree. She surprised herself at the sheer volume of aid she was able to render. Maybe she should have been helping people all along instead of wandering through the wasteland?

  Just another question that needed to wait in line.

  Hernon’s soldiers advanced, interrupting her musings. Then, another form came into view. Large, radiant.

  Crap, she thought. Zaph.

  The world focused for a few moments and she was able to speak. “Wait,” she said weakly.

  One of the men she healed blocked the aisle and questioned the soldiers in Portuguese. The church spun and her head pounded worse than her most violent migraine. Now wasn’t the time to lose her faculties!

  “Army… Coming,” she managed to say between labored breaths. “We will talk… Here.”

  Hernon’s judging stare lanced across the room and he said, “Only lies come from your forked tongue. We do not offer counsel to the devil!”

  The crowd pleaded and spoke of her healing hands. At least she thought that was their intent from the few words and phrases she recognized.

  Though the soldiers appeared reluctant to force their way through the people, Zaph had no such reservations. He lifted himself over the roadblock and landed behind her.

  Damn angels!

  Alexandra whirled as fast as her head allowed and placed her hand on her sword. Perhaps she should have been nicer to the angel the last time they met. With Ael, it happened quickly and he wasn’t expecting her to be so dangerous.

  Zaph had seen her in action. He knew her skill.

  “Did you do what I suggested?” she asked. “Did you inspect your Child King?”

  Zaph drew a silvery sword from his belt and said, “I did.”

  Unsure what her move was with so much imminent violence around her, Alexandra drew her own weapon and attempted to keep both the soldiers and the angel in her field of vision. Her adrenaline sobered her now that she was outflanked and in possible danger.

  “And?” she prompted Zaph.

  “And I am unable to reach a definitive conclusion,” he said.

  Her heart sunk even lower. Aside from the obvious obstacle Zaph
presented, maybe she was simply a freak of nature and nothing more. Why did she allow Koneh and Erzulie to make her into this?

  “Alright then,” she said, running out of options. “Tell me, Padre – how many tanks do you have here?”

  Everyone paused.

  Alexandra continued her offensive. She realized the person who hit the hardest would ultimately win their little feud.

  “Because I’ve made my way all around your little town here, and I haven’t seen any,” she said. “I only ask because I know how many tanks are coming. And I’m the only one who can stop them.”

  She repeated the gist of her words in Spanish to the assembled crowd. Her only hope at this point was to make herself appear needed. Combined with her miracles, Alexandra reasoned she was well on her way. She promised the people she could stop the tanks from destroying their new home, but only if Padre Hernon would listen to her.

  The padre fumed behind his round spectacles and his neck skin flapped as he talked. “You threaten me?!” he said.

  “Not a threat,” she said. “I just used that radio in the back room to tell the United States Army about your hostages. They weren’t happy.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You have been to the hill.”

  Alexandra nodded. “You hold my friend against his will. Again. What choice do you leave me?”

  He mumbled in Portuguese.

  “I never wanted to be your enemy, Padre,” she said. “All you need to do is release the Americans. No tanks. No violence.”

  Well, she thought to herself, no violence for the people here. You are another matter as you killed a friend of mine.

  After a pause, the padre said, “I believe you are –how you say– lying?”

  “You mean bluffing?” she said. “No, Padre, this is no bluff. You’re smart enough to realize those four boys you have under the hill came from somewhere, on somebody’s orders. If I don’t check-in daily on that radio with the American general, your lives are about to become a world more complicated.”

  Hernon addressed the crowd with less anger than before. He appeared to be reassuring them that he didn’t intend Alexandra harm.

  Of course, she trusted his words as much as Lilev’s. Since the world had ended, everyone seemed to have their own agenda.

  “We can talk,” he said as he stepped towards her. “Away from the people.”

  “Not a chance,” she said. “I’d prefer to keep my freedom for the time being.”

  As the padre considered her words, Alexandra wondered if he knew she could easily kill him from this distance. Perhaps only Marco deserved it more. Nicole would be avenged. Much of her anger would be sated.

  Shifting his stance, Zaph watched her closely as if he could read her thoughts. Was he fast enough to stop her? Probably. Maybe the padre wasn’t such an easy target after all.

  “Fine. We talk here,” Hernon said.

  Once everyone was settled and weapons stowed, Alexandra said, “The army battalion stationed at Veracruz came to Brasilia after you left. Benjamin, who traveled with me, is a part of that group. They only want their boys back. Simple.”

  Padre Hernon steeped his fingers and watched her speak. Like before, he appeared to be judging and cataloging her every move.

  “I hear differently,” he said. “Your spies are under the hill, unable to harm our city. You say tanks are coming but I don’t believe you.”

  “We can fire-up that radio right now and I’ll let you talk to General Todd Ryan, of the United States Army.”

  The padre motioned to one of the soldiers.

  “I know who’s been feeding you lies,” she said. “Did you know Marco was in league with demons? I’m sure he left that part of out when he told you his story.”

  Hernon frowned. “You tell me one thing, he tells me another. Marco has been a good ally – you bring demons to Brasilia. I will believe him, not you.”

  “Fallen angel.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Erzulie is a fallen angel,” Alexandra said. “Ask Zaph, he can tell you.”

  Zaph nodded to the padre.

  “It makes no difference – she was from Hell,” Hernon said.

  “Incorrect. She is from Heaven. Discarded by a God who no longer found her useful to His plans,” Alexandra said, almost spitting the words. “Erzulie is a hero. She’s saved many lives since the world ended.”

  The church faded from view and Erzulie’s perfect, ashen body lay naked by a stream. Caressed by sunlight, she smiled at Alexandra.

  “Miss you, Lex,” she said before the scene melted away and the starkness of the wooden building came back into focus.

  What the hell was that? The future? The now? Was Erzulie in Eden?

  Everyone watched her as she squeezed her eyes shut and brought her hand to her still throbbing head. The shift in perception only added fuel to the pain.

  Get under control, she told herself.

  “I heard what you did here,” Hernon said. “You healed many sick. People I know. How? Why would you do that?”

  Alexandra suppressed the agony-induced groan waiting in her throat and said, “That’s two questions, Padre.”

  Hernon frowned. “How?”

  Somewhat recovered, she opened her eyes and leaned against the pew. “If I knew, I’d be more than happy to tell you. It’s just something I’ve been able to do since the earthquake.” She paused. “I also healed the girl, Medina,” she said. “Back in Brasilia.”

  “I hear that too,” he said. “Her Madre sent her to me to study. She is good girl.”

  “Shot by your troops,” Alexandra said.

  “While chasing you.”

  Alexandra sighed. “Can I see her?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Tell me – why heal my people? Why do you come now?”

  “Because I’m here to save those soldiers you hold prisoner,” she said. Then, musing internally, I also thought it was a good way to get your attention, while giving myself a measure of protection.

  Padre Herno’s eyes traveled down to her muddy boots and back upwards past her frayed duster to her weary, grimy face. “You are interesting, Alejandra. You do things you should not do, if you were an evil person. I must pray on these things and more.”

  A Brasilian soldier placed the radio on a small table.

  “But, for now, I think I would like to talk to this General Todd Ryan,” the padre said.

  Alexandra manipulated the controls like she had not over an hour ago. This time, the general answered.

  “Alexandra?” he asked once the line was established.

  “It’s me,” she said. “I have Padre Hernon here with me. Did Captain Morin give you my status?”

  A pause. Then, “Yes. We are mobilizing now. Can the Padre hear me?”

  “I can hear you, General,” Padre Hernon said. “It is good to speak with you.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” General Ryan said. “I hear you have my men in custody?”

  Hernon leaned closer to the radio. “A misunderstanding to be sure,” he said. “I will consult Nebu at once to secure their release.”

  “Nebu?” Alexandra asked.

  “The Child King, born of God on the Day of Judgment,” Hernon said. “He opened Eden and He rules Babylon.”

  So it was true – this Child King took credit for her act. How? He was barely a year old! Was everyone in Babylon enthralled by his three word vocabulary?

  Her bitterness palpable in her words, she said, “Consult your Child King now and we can radio the general once his men are free from that awful place.”

  “He only takes audience in the morning,” Hernon said. “I’m afraid we must wait.”

  Alexandra stood and stared down the padre. “I’m not comfortable with them spending one more minute under the hill,” she said. “Make it happen.”

  Zaph moved closer and Alexandra no longer wondered if she could kill the angel. With her anger flared, she felt unstoppable.

  Mirroring her motion, Padre Hernon stood
as well, but he still needed to look skywards to meet her eyes.

  “You will not command me,” he said. “You must still stand trial for your crimes. Marco witnessed you kill a priest. You brought demons to Brasilia. Do not think you are safe under your threat here. We will still arrest you.”

  “Not going to happen, Padre,” General Ryan said through the radio. “I’m coming for my men, and Alexandra. I expect to find them unharmed and free from any imprisonment when I arrive.”

  Hernon smiled wickedly and turned his head towards the radio. “Oh, I suspect you will be receiving a message from Rome, General Ryan. The United States is gone and you will now take orders from Pope Victor. Or, rather, the pope’s agent in Babylon – me!”

  United States – gone? How? Alexandra had assumed portions survived, like in Mexico and the lower Americas. Had so few people survived? Was there really so little left of the world she once knew?

  “Until a new government is established,” General Ryan said, “I take orders from nobody. Feel free to pass the message along to your pope.”

  “You will hear from him soon,” Hernon said. “An angel will be sent.”

  “I look forward to meeting another angel,” General Ryan said, “though I suppose I’m spoiled. Erzulie was such a delight to have around the base. Alexandra?”

  Tearing her eyes away from her enemy, she said, “I’m here.”

  “Shut down the radio and keep it with you,” he said. “Save some battery for now. I’ll contact you again tomorrow.”

  “Right,” she said. “Be safe.”

  “You too.”

  She winced as she severed the connection to her friends. Once again, she was alone. Did she now need to fight the whole room? Her muscles tightened in preparation for combat. The padre wasn’t buying the whole “tanks are coming” story, though it was very real.

  The tension in the room was as thick as Texas morning fog. Nobody appeared ready to make the first move after the radio conversation. However, with help on the way, Alexandra felt determination and hope swell within her.

  Two weeks. She could do that.

  “Okay,” she said, “where can a girl crash around here?”

  Nobody laughed. The soldiers still fingered their weapons but Alexandra sensed they weren’t quite ready to fill her full of lead any more. They had seen her heal people and they hopefully doubted Padre Hernon.