IT JUST DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE,” said David as he and his partner drove to the warehouse. “All of these bombs, all of these killings, and what have they accomplished? They are only proving what the Messiah says about the Haters. Now the whole world wants to see them die. And for what? To be martyrs for a fraud like Jesus Christ? You can show ten people the same event and you’ll get ten different reactions,” he continued. “We all saw the start of the war at Megiddo and we all saw the miracle that day, the changes the Messiah has brought about. How can anyone see all that and not believe? How can they still have hearts so hardened they’d kill children to get attention?”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’ve all seen too much,” replied Thorold.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about what this world’s been through in the last three months,” Thorold responded. “One minute we’re all about to die in a nuclear war and the next millions of people vanish into thin air. The planet’s been turned upside down. We’re so busy trying to comprehend how we got into this situation, we’re not thinking clearly.”
“What are you getting at, Thor?” David asked.
“I don’t know.” Thorold shrugged. “I guess it’s just that things aren’t always what they seem. After all the years on the job we know that life isn’t always fair. Bad things happen to good people. I don’t understand why. They just do. But Wendy couldn’t accept that. There had to be a reason. She started talking about God’s will and God’s mysterious ways. She got the kids really involved with the church, and next thing I know, she’s praying it won’t rain when we have a family picnic. It was her way of coping, I guess.”
“And you’re saying that calling Franco Macalousso the Messiah is our way of coping with all that’s happened?” asked David.
“Yes. No. I don’t know,” was his frustrated reply. “Look at the facts, David. This guy claims he’s God Himself and says he’s responsible for all the miracles that happened. We’re so relieved we’re still alive, we buy into it. You know what they say. A drowning man will grasp at the point of a sword if that’s all that’s offered to him.”
“The point of a sword?” replied the incredulous David. “The world was going to destroy itself and this guy stopped it. And you call that the point of a sword? I’ve learned one thing. It’s what people show me that counts, not what they say or what they believe. And when the Messiah stopped the missiles, stopped the war, and saved the world, he made me a believer,” conceded David. “He hasn’t established his own church. He hasn’t asked for money. He did what he did to save us from our foolish self-destruction.”
“He made you a believer in what?” Thorold pressed. “Macalousso vaporized my family.”
“But they wouldn’t open their minds, Thorold,” David countered. “You know that. He’s explained it already.”
“What kind of savior vaporizes sweet and gentle people just because he disagrees with them?” Thorold asked bitterly.
“They were holding the rest of us back,” David insisted. “Besides, we don’t know where they’ve gone. Maybe they’re not dead the way we think. Maybe they’re being reeducated somewhere. Maybe that’s what the Day of Wonders is about. Maybe they’ll come back.”
“And maybe we should be considering alternatives, David,” Thorold said darkly.
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” Thorold admitted. “Maybe he’s just a really good magician, only on some sort of cosmic scale. Or maybe he’s just a guy who saw what was happening and jumped in to take credit. For all we know Macalousso is an alien from another planet.” He sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is that someone should be asking some questions. Why am I the only one?”
“Because you’re a cynic.” His partner laughed. “And this hell you’re going through over Wendy and the kids isn’t helping. I’ve known you forever and you’re always questioning. Even at the training academy, you were forever challenging the instructors. But what Macalousso did in Israel was all the proof I needed.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m not looking for God,” Thorold snapped. “I’m just looking for my family.”
The friends were silent as they approached the warehouse. Whoever had blown up a school bus might have booby-trapped their hideout. The Haters might be armed, ready to die a martyr’s death.
Most of their work was peaceful. Most Haters were surprisingly gentle people, unarmed and unresisting. But the ones who had turned to violence were unpredictable. They slowly circled the block, discretely as possible given the situation. Plainclothes officers were positioned at all the escape routes. Smith and Stone parked their car around a corner and out of sight of the empty building. There they were met by an officer who handled the large dogs trained for such assignments.
“Everyone’s in place,” she said.
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter if the Haters see us,” replied Smith as he and Thorold put on their O.N.E. jackets. Thorold also took a shotgun from the car, chambering a shell while Smith took out a small electronic device.
“What’s that thing?” asked the K-9 officer.
“A new toy a few of us are trying out,” Smith responded.
“So what does it do?” the officer asked.
“It’s supposed to read human DNA through solid concrete,” David replied. “A dog’s nose can’t warn us of danger until we’re almost on top of it. Heat sensors are good, but they can mistake a large animal or even a space heater for a human being.” He held up the device. “This will only register a living, breathing person, someone behind a closed door or down a dark corridor waiting to blow us away.”
“If it works,” said Thorold skeptically.
The three officers and the dog moved swiftly down an alley leading to a fire escape on the abandoned building. Smith slowly moved the electronic device from side to side as a series of diodes glowed with varying intensity. Suddenly the dog whimpered and tugged on his handler’s leash as she gave him slack and he moved to the door, sniffing. Smith walked up and held up the meter. It showed nothing.
“No one in there, boy. Whoever it was must have left,” he said.
“I guess they can improve on Mother Nature,” admitted the K-9 cop.
Suddenly the detector lights grew bright and Smith stopped, holding the meter steady to stabilize the reading. He activated the radio clipped to his jacket. “This is Smith. Stone and I are at the South End. We’ve got eighteen of them inside.”
“Roger,” said the voice on the radio. “Will dispatch.”
Within seconds the armored van rolled into position and an O.N.E. SWAT team jumped out, ready for action. The undercovers moved into position, sealing the exits.
“Our orders are to shoot the Haters on sight,” Thorold explained to the SWAT unit leader. “Tell your men to kill anyone who resists.”
“Why is this a terminal operation?” asked the officer. “Is there something we need to know?”
“They bombed a school bus,” Thorold explained. “They’re obviously armed and dangerous. There might be explosives hidden in the building. My partner and I will go in first.”
“That’s not the way we usually do things,” the team leader protested.
“We’re doing it my way, Lieutenant,” Thorold said sternly. “I want your men to hold fire until we have a chance to check the immediate area. If there’s a problem, I’ll give the signal. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said the SWAT officer.
“Then let’s do it.”