The New York Cafe
Budapest, Hungary
One Week Later
The New York Café in Budapest, Hungary, was a dazzling spectacle of Neo-Renaissance grandeur. Soaring ceilings were adorned with intricate frescoes and gilded stuccowork. The polished marble floors gleamed, reflecting the countless glittering facets of the crystal chandeliers. Deep red damask silk draped the walls, providing a luxurious backdrop to the plush velvet armchairs and banquettes. And statues and busts of classical figures stood watch, silent guardians that added a touch of artistic refinement to the already impressive display.
Jonah was sitting in the lower section of the café swiping through the daily news reports in regard to the continuing chaos in Europe between the incumbents and the candidates, with each throwing political haymakers at each other. Even more pleasing was the news of the Vatican coming under considerable fire, though the heat started to abate somewhat as the AI’s impact began to wane due to broadcasts pointing an accusing finger at the untruth that AI was disseminating. People’s thoughts began to turn—again—their fickleness a never-ending carousel, ready to jump on the next outrage bandwagon.
As he was swiping his finger across the phone’s screen, a massive figure took the seat opposite him.
Jonah, appearing incensed that his space was violated, said, “Is there something I can do for you?”
The man, wearing a hoody that obscured much of his face, nodded.
“And?” Jonah asked him.
The man reached up and pulled back the hood.
Jonah, as his heart skipped a beat inside his chest, allowed his jaw to drop.
Kimball Hayden was sitting with his eyes filled with volcanic rage.
“Remember me?” Kimball sarcastically asked Jonah.
At first, Jonah’s mouth moved in mute protest. And then: “I killed you. You were buried beneath the Basilica.”
“Was I?”
“How are you even being here possible?”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you. I’m here because you took the lives of two men who were my brothers. Job and Nehemiah.”
“Just two? I was hoping to take them all. That was my purpose. To have them assemble at one inescapable location. I’m actually amazed to hear that anyone was able to escape what I saw.” After a pause, Jonah asked, “And what? You’re going to kill me in front of all of these people, is that it?”
Kimball said nothing.
“You think killing me is going to be that easy? Huh? Well, you can’t. And do you want to know why? It’s because I’m in service to God, that’s why. I have so much more to do in His name. What I’ve done to influence people’s thinking is just the beginning. And that’s why I’m still here when my team is not. It’s because God has willed it. It’s because God wants me to continue with my work to bring reforms back to the church and to bring back the conventions that Pope Innocent has willingly changed to accommodate the people instead of promoting the will of God. God does not bend to the will of men . . . men bend to the will of God.”
“Is that right?”
“I will bring back the old conventions of Christianity—just you watch.”
“News alert: this isn’t the Crusades, kid. We no longer force Christianity by the blade of the sword.”
“No. Today, we do it by using AI, which is sharper than the blade of any sword.”
“So, you think God is shielding you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I.”
“Because you still have much to do, is that it? With your AI?”
Jonah’s response was to give Kimball a neutral look.
“What if I told you that I was the one who is here by the will of God,” Kimball told him.
“We both know that can’t happen since our beliefs completely oppose each other’s. I can’t serve Him to bring back traditions, whereas you blindly work for the pontiff whose religious principles contradicts mine and be on the same team. I speak out in opposition of the pope doing what I believe is right by taking a stand against him. You operate by supporting his secular viewpoints due to your blind discipline.”
“And yet, no one has died under his command.”
“There are always sacrifices in war. Angels and demons have been fighting for millennia.”
“Saints against sinners, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re the saint and I’m the sinner.”
“Need I say more?”
“No . . . Not really.” Kimball’s right arm came across in a horizontal sweep, a glint of steel, the movement so fast that it was a blur. Then, getting to his feet, Kimball rounded the table and placed a gentle hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Now,” he stated softly, “you’ll see exactly where you stand between the Darkness and the Light. For you, the mystery ends here.” Patting Jonah’s shoulder lightly, Kimball started to take the stairs to the upper level where the exit door was.
Jonah, shaking his head as if Kimball’s audacity to confront him was laughable, started to feel an itch, and then a burning feeling, across his throat. Bringing his fingertips to the point of the itch and burning sensation, his fingers came away tacky with blood. At first, he appeared dumbfounded, not understanding what was happening, so he brought his fingers to his throat once again, this time feeling a separation in his skin. A second horrible mouth was forming, his flesh having been parted with a single sweep of Kimball Hayden’s arm.
As he began to gurgle, he reached out a hand to patrons at a nearby table with his eyes flaring with alarm. The front of his jacket was saturated with blood that was the color of candy-apple red. Then he coughed, a red mist, the patrons falling away from the spray, and then yelling as Jonah cupped a hand around his throat to stymy the flow.
Within seconds his world started to go plum purple, and then his sight turned midnight black with no lighted tunnel, and no Illumination. And then he fell forward with his head slamming hard against the table.
The mystery of what awaited Jonah in the aftermath of life was no longer a mystery.