can,” Jack said, falling deeper in love with her with every word she spoke.
•
“Dinner’s served,” Diane announced a short time later, placing a large platter of roasted chicken on the table. Sharing the platter with the chicken was a large serving of carrots, rice, and red potatoes. “God, that looks good,” Jack observed, his mouth watering. “I hope it tastes good,” Diane replied. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jack said, picking up the carving knife, and slicing the chicken into thin pieces, placing some on her plate, and some on his own. He took a mouthful. “It’s delicious,” he said. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“When you grow up in foster homes,” she answered, “you learn to do a lot of things.”
“I see,” Jack said. He could sense the hurt in those words. A lot of hurt. The cat sidled up to him, looking up, hoping to share in the feast. He dangled a thin piece of meat over its head and let it nibble away. “Have you thought of a name for him yet?” Diane asked. “Not yet,” Jack said, furrowing his brow in thought. “How about . . . Eve?”
Diane looked down at her lap, saying nothing. It was the first time since he met her that she displayed any trace of discomfort. The two sat in awkward silence for several moments. Then she looked up, fixed her eyes on him, and said “I know about our mission.”
Jack just looked at her disbelievingly, his fork frozen midway between his plate and his mouth. “Yeah,” she repeated, “I know about the mission.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that,” Jack said.
“I can imagine,” Diane replied, “Wouldn’t be much fun saving the world alone, right?”
“Is that what we’re supposed to be doing?” Jack asked. “Saving the world?”
“Well, what else could it be?” she asked. “Leading mankind to the Garden of Eden. Isn’t that the same as saving the world?”
“I don’t know, maybe the whole thing is just a wild goose chase,” Jack said.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she snarled, and suddenly those two big brown orbs locked on him in a harsh, withering glare; he felt, quite literally, like a deer in the headlights. “I’m just saying,” he replied, floundering for words “that we really don’t know anything yet. I can’t speak for you, but the messages I’ve gotten are long on drama and short on detail. What about you?”
“Well,” she said, gritting her teeth “I haven’t received any specific instructions yet, but . . .”
“But what?” Jack pressed.
“But that doesn’t mean they’re not forthcoming!” she said, her voice rising about two octaves, to just a hair beneath a shout. Jack was taken aback; he did not take her for the emotional type. “Well, to be honest,” Jack said, suspecting he was on the wrong course, but plodding ahead anyway: “I’m not sure I even want any instructions!”
“What do you mean?” she asked accusingly. “I mean,” Jack said, a note of annoyance creeping into his own voice, “this mission has ruined my life. I never asked for any of this, and I don’t even want it.”
“Well, I never asked for it either, but it is what it is. I mean . . . we were divinely appointed to provide a great service to mankind. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Jack did not know how to answer. In truth, he had never actually looked at it that way. He had only considered how it affected him; he had never thought about how it might affect others. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” Jack said sheepishly. “Well, you should,” Diane said, her tone of angry indignation replaced by one of gentle admonishment. “The burden to yourself won’t seem as bad if you think about others. I mean, just look at Christ as an example.”
Oh God, no, Jack thought. Please don’t let her be a born again evangelical nut job. “You’re not . . . religious?” he asked, pronouncing the word as if it represented the worse disease one could imagine.
Sighing, Diane said “No, I’m not religious, but I have prepared myself for this mission. I have studied the bible extensively, along with Greek and Hebrew, and anything else that I thought might be of relevance to this task.”
Jack was dumbfounded. Here he had spent his whole life resenting his calling while she had spent hers preparing for it. He was more interested in her than in their mission; for her it was just the opposite. He wondered if she had any interest in him at all. “Well, he said,” trying to make light of it, “at least one of us is ready for what’s to come.”
She just gave him a sneer and said, “I hope so.” For a moment they just sat there, frozen, then, as if by mutual decision, they resumed their dinner without speaking about their mission again for the rest of the evening.
10
The twelve men, eleven Cardinals and the Pope, all clothed in their vestments, descended the long staircase that lead to the basement chamber of the apostolic palace in Vatican City, Rome. The chamber was a large round room, ringed by massive white columns, with a high ceiling and stone walls with a variety of figures carved into them. The figures were of ancient gods, beasts, angels, demons and an assortment of other strange and exotic creatures. The only light came from lanterns, which sat in holders that had been anchored into the walls. The room was dark and dank, filled with shadows and an eerie silence.
The men spread out into a large circle in the center of the room. Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the circle was a rope. The men knit their hands together in a prayerful pose and bowed their heads. Then they began to chant in Latin. Tuum est regnum, tuum regnum venero ut. The Kingdom is yours; come take your kingdom.
The chant continued for five minutes. Then the pope stood in the middle of the circle, stretched his arms out wide and said in a booming voice: “When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place, Then let them which be in Judea flee into the mountains . . .”
And the cardinals declared in response: Ipse stat in locum sanctum He stands in the Holy Place!
The pope continued: “Let no man deceive you by any means: for that day shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and the man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped; so that he as God sitteth in the temple of God, shewing himself that he is God.
The cardinals declared in response: Venit sedens in templo! Come sit in the temple!
Then the pope pulled on the rope. A whole opened up in the ceiling and a huge cross dropped down, stopping just inches from the floor. It was inverted, with the figure of Christ attached. One by one the Cardinals approached it and pissed on it, declaring Ut benedicat tibi—I renounce you—as they did so.
Then they gathered back in a circle and took up a new chant: tuun est Ecclesia nostra; tolle tibi sedem in templo. Our church is yours; take your seat in the temple.
Over and over again they made the dreadful pronouncement, each time their voices growing louder, until they were shouting it out at the top of their lungs, their bodies trembling, their voices straining, their brows slick with sweat. Amidst their shouts the first plumes of smoke began to arise from
