Lassiter 07 - Flesh and Bones by Levine, Paul (ebook reader web .txt) 📕

The others murmur their agreement. "The I.R.S. can listen to your phone calls," says one of the grizzled men.

"Not only that," another says. "Every car manufactured after 1979 has a computer chip built in. A bureaucrat in Washington hits a switch, and your engine will stop dead."

"That why you still drive a '78 Chevy pickup, Will?" another guy says, laughing.

"Yeah, and it's why I keep my thirty-ought-six in the gun rack with five thousand rounds of ammo and provisions for six months under the barn. When the revolution comes, I'll be ready."

"Me too," the bartender says. "I got two dozen kegs of Coors in the shed out back."

Which sets the others to laughing. Will turns toward a long-haired man standing alone at the end of the bar. The man is lean and muscular and wears a blue chambray shirt and khaki pants. "What about you, fellow? You think there's going to be a second revolution?"

"A Second Coming," Brother David says. "The angel poured out his bowl on the sun, which scorched people with fire. They cursed the name of God and refused to repent."

"What the hell?"

"Revelations, chapter sixteen, verse eight. It is the Word."

Will studies the man, decides there's no use going down that road. His ex-wife was a Bible-thumper, used to drive him crazy. "Well, the Word's making me thirsty." He motions to the bartender for a refill.

No one moves to join Brother David at the end of the bar. He sips a cup of coffee and resumes watching television. On the screen, an anchorman with gray hair and a somber tone begins to speak, and the screen goes to a videotape of the President shaking hands with several men in the Rose Garden. "At the White House," the anchorman says, "the President welcomed the United Nations Nuclear Non-Proliferation Commission, which today begins a tour of U.S. missile bases scheduled to be shut down under the START II Treaty."

The bartender tosses his towel in the direction of the sink. "What bullshit! Business ain't bad enough, they gotta pull out the Air Force."

"See, I told you so!" Will puts down his freshly poured beer. "First the missiles, then our rifles. The U.N. and the Trilateral Commission are gonna confiscate our guns and give them to the Zulus and the Zionists."

Brother David walks to a nearby table and sits, joining a younger man who nurses a bottle of beer and a woman who holds a cup of coffee, gone cold. There is an air of peacefulness, of knowing calm, about Brother David, who smiles placidly. "Hello, Billy. Rachel. May the glory of God be with you."

"Thank you for coming, Brother David," Billy says. Neatly dressed in jeans and an open-collar shirt, he is a baby-faced, twenty-four year-old with rimless glasses and pale blond hair. "I've looked to the Lord for answers, just like you said. But…" Tears form in his eyes. "There aren't any answers. Not for me, anyway. Kathy said she'd wait for me, and now she's going to marry my best friend, and…" His voice takes on a pathetic whine. "I'm stuck out here in the woods for another six months. What can I do?"

Rachel leans across the table and gathers Billy's hands in her own. In her late twenties, she wears no makeup and hides her figure under a shapeless granny dress. "Brother David understands, Billy. He loves you. He'll take care of you. And so will I."

Brother David stares hard at Billy, then squeezes his eyes shut, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper, "I see a quiet house. In the Midwest, I believe. There is a child, just one, a little boy, but no man there. Still, the house has the feel of a man. In the closet, there is a uniform, as if he might come back." He pauses a moment, takes several deep breaths, and continues, "There is the sense of loss. Was your father killed in the service?"

Billy's lower lip trembles. "No, but he was in the Army. He left my mother. And me. He never came back."

David's gaze seems to trace an outline around Billy. "Your auric fields are weak. There is purple and gold, and that's good, but the colors are muddy, not vibrant. You are unsure, misunderstood, still in the process of awakening, and are not appreciated for what you have to offer."

"Yes," Billy says excitedly. "Yes, it's all true, but can you help me?"

Suddenly, Brother David grabs Billy's beer bottle and slams it on the table. Foam erupts and streams down the long neck. David dips an index finger into the pool of suds that surrounds the bottle. He reaches across the table and draws the sign of the cross on Billy's forehead, then touches the tip of his finger to Billy's lips. "Drink of my blood."

Billy takes Brother David's finger into his mouth as an infant would his mother's nipple. He stares, wide-eyed at the man he considers the Savior. David rewards him with a beatific smile, then withdraws his finger. He grabs Billy's head, cupping his hands around the base of his skull. "Do you seek everlasting life?"

It isn't a question so much as a demand. Billy can't say a word, but he nods against the pressure of David's hands.

"Good, William, good. Because you, Lieutenant William Riordan of the United States Air Force. You hold the key. And only I can turn it."

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