Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (19 page)

The communication quality presentation was done by the only woman in the group. Melissa presented her report with the precision of a surgeon. Joe was surprised at the depth of her report. Many of the Spring Hill residents were boisterous in their complaints about America's wars, their relatives, the companies where they worked, and their state of general health. Of the area, Melissa had chosen eight individuals from six households of interest to further study and track. Melissa was also keen enough to slide her hard copy across to Joe for his scrutiny. When she did so, the other techs looked around the table at each other. Joe saw they were catching onto his method of reasoning.

Mr. Schreiber had a passing interest in free pornography and non-cash video poker. Mr. DeLuca routinely checked his email, surfed for restaurant recommendations, the occasional geographical driving directions, and weather reports. Mr. DeLuca didn't voice his opinion anywhere on the internet.

A throat cleared at the table. Joe looked up to see Mark painted with an apologetic look.

“Yes?” Joe asked, pressing Mark to ask his question.

“Are you looking for something specific, Agent Diclaro?” Mark asked, visibly squirming. Clearly these techs had no experience working directly with a field agent, much less a supervisory field agent. They were cute. Joe would try to keep them after this worked was wrapped up.

“This morning I walked the streets of this neighborhood and noticed a couple of interesting peculiarities. Yard content, care and maintenance, those sort of things,” Joe replied, feeling more like an instructor than a supervisor. “When a person fills their yard with objects to maintain, it is a sign they are fulfilled by their own kingdom. We have no interest in those people. When a person fills their kingdom with junk and doesn't maintain their yard, home exterior, vehicles, then the person is consumed with sensation and doesn't care for their personal presentation. And, those I only have interest in if they have a past criminal record above a certain bar.” Joe made a gesture indicating height above an invisible starting point. “However, when a person's yard is devoid of anything; trees, shrubs, statuary, no sign of pets, and the exterior of the home is clean and non-ornamental —“

“That appears as a safe house?” Jason, one of the techs who had yet to report, broke in.

Joe smiled at the influence of watching too much television.

“Rather cloak and dagger of you, um isn’t it Jason?” Joe pointed at the clearly written ID tag with a dry smugness. “This denotes a person who has supreme interest outside his life. Someone possibly caught up in a work promotion, or someone who truly loves their work. God bless them. Or, a person who works out of town.”

The techs were silent. Joe pointed at another member of the group, Perry, who began his oral report on work and family status. Perry wasn't solely responsible for his work. There was another tech who sat behind and to Perry's left. And, had the ubiquitous name, “Bob.” Bob, appeared senior of all the techs in the room, possibly very late twenties to thirty years of age. There was something more interesting about Bob but Joe dropped it to concentrate on the report. Perry gave employment statistics on the neighborhood. He specifically denoted any persons with recent changes in employment. There were a few with new positions, and a couple who had the recent misfortune of being laid off. When the other techs heard the figures Perry gave, there were mutterings of discontent around the table. Comments of the region and the long lost steel industry.

“No, kids,” Joe said between Perry's sentences. "The true unemployment rate for the nation is eighteen percent. This area is somewhat better than the norm.” Joe’s remark gave legitimacy to Perry's figure of sixteen percent. “What the general public doesn’t know is that the United States had a much higher unemployment rate than the media outlets disclosed.”

“I’ve broken down the family status into a spreadsheet,” Perry said, sliding another hard copy across the table. Perry had chosen to submit the copy to Joe instead of reading the figures. Smart, Joe thought.

And there it was, on the work status report. Griffin DeLuca had, without prior concern, taken a two-week personal leave without explanation. Very interesting. The remaining family data showed Mr. DeLuca lived alone.

Joe sat in silence for a few minutes reviewing each of the reports. He took out his pen and circled names from the list he used during his morning walk-through. He removed the list from his clipboard. Placing the list on top of all the tech's reports, Joe laid the stack in the center of the table and looked around, making eye contact with each of the techs.

“Concentrate your efforts on these names,” Joe announced, rising from the table. “Dig deeper on each and begin tracking. I want warrant requests in the morning.”

He started to leave the room, but paused by the door. “And get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long long day.”

He was beat and needed sleep himself. Another fifteen minutes and he would have been fighting yawns. Joe made up his mind to go home and sleep. He would run his techs ragged in the morning. Joe smiled. The feeling waned as he left the building. Something felt wrong, foreboding. Joe ran through the day in his mind. He could find nothing he had missed, nor could he think of further instruction he could have given his techs. Joe tried to put everything out of his mind as he fished his keys from his Dickies slacks. But a feeling was gnawing at the back of his neck. Joe looked up as if to see a giant hammer about to fall on his head. There was none. Before getting into his car, he looked in every direction. There were no eyes on him. From his parking spot southeast of Liberty Avenue, Joe could see city workers still scouring for any parts, plane or human, left from the crashes. He looked again in all directions. Nothing. No one was looking his way. Joe opened the door and plugged in the hotel address into the GPS. His mind let go of the day.

Watching the Watchers

Griffin stepped back around the corner of the building two blocks away. He was now wearing a plain, medium blue, short-sleeve shirt, dark blue slacks, and black sports shoes. From a distance he would look like any city employee working inside the temporarily restricted city. It was lucky for Griffin that the DHS had set up shop just beyond the strip district in lesser-used buildings.

“This is a cool trick,” Griffin thought to Gabriel. “How does it work?”

Gabriel replied with mental shrug. “You have access to me, and to a degree, you tell me how it works.”

“Uh, you’re asking me to step onto an alien space ship and take over the controls without any instruction. I can't do that,” Gabriel thought, using the first metaphor that came to mind.

“You can if you are a part of the pilot's mind,” Gabriel answered. Griffin felt an invitation to ride the Archangel’s senses.

“All right, challenge accepted, Mr. Archangel,” Griffin thought. He slipped back into his own mind and found Gabriel. Griffin slowed his breathing and cut everything else out, concentrating purely on the sound of his own breath. He became aware of the air filling and exiting his lungs. He felt his shoulders rock back and forth with each cycle of air. And then he could feel where everyone else around was looking. He wasn’t exactly seeing through their eyes, but had gained awareness of what held each one’s attention. With further concentration Griffin found this information wasn't just coming from their sight, but from their minds. And suddenly it was filtered in simple colors. Each person within several blocks now appeared in their combined thoughts. When distracted by a sight, thought, conversation, or action that didn't include Griffin, they appeared blue-green. When a city worker, police officer, or FEMA worker would look in Griffin’s direction, Gabriel sent an impulse to the worker averting their attention away. Griffin saw sometimes it meant intervening another person to distract the individual whose attention was falling near him. It was subtle, too, not a glaring action. Griffin marveled at how easy it was for Gabriel to do.

“With this much access to human thought, why do you need me to talk to this prophet?” Griffin asked in thought.

“If I removed myself from you, I would just be another source of energy. And a visible source at that. Without you I'm cut off from the transmission. Imagine me as a radio signal, and each human is a radio, and you are my transceiver.”

“Ah. Makes sense,” Griffin thought. “Is there anything else to see here?” He had been nervous when they entered the city, but now he was bordering on paranoid.

“No, we've seen what we need to see. That man is leading a team of people looking for you. He has singled you out with a five others. They will begin to take great interest in you very soon. We need to approach to prophet soon. This evening.”

“Tonight?” Griffin thought about see the woman again, and a range of emotions popped up before he could control them or notice Gabriel's reaction.

"We are here to convey the messages of God, not ask her out for a date. You will need to control your fear of seeing her.” Gabriel thought sternly in Griffin's mind.

If Griffin could mentally wince he would have. He was embarrassed by his mix of emotion. Part of Griffin thought the woman was attractive. Part was unsure about the entire adventure. Being rejected by a common man-woman approach was crushing enough, but Griffin’s role as vessel unsettled him more than he had ever imagined. It was important to be accepted by the prophet in more than one dimension.

“Dress to impress her, then,” Gabriel remarked. He sounded like a father getting his son ready for a first date. “Do you have flowers?”

Griffin laughed in his mind. “I hate you.”

Gabriel navigated them through a crowd, making sure that no one noticed. Griffin rode Gabriel's actions ensuring he could move in the direction that would take him away from an onlooker's attention. The symbiotic action made the process simpler and more natural.

“Wait,” Griffin said. “You know where she will be in an hour?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Going back to our conversation in your living room. Information comes to me when it is useful. Does that make sense to you?”

“Only when sharing head space, it does,” Griffin replied. “I’m going to need to get out of these clothes. Do we have enough time? Will she be there long enough for me to run home and change clothes?”

“We will be seen entering your home and leaving. Police are watching your neighborhood. Reporting on specific humans,” Gabriel said.

“How do you know that?” Griffin was shocked to learn that Gabriel could be aware of such activity and that he was under surveillance.

“They communicate via radio. Radio is an energy signal offered openly through the air.” Gabriel was being flat again in his responses.

“Okay, okay, enough. I'm just going to stop asking,” Griffin thought.

“It would be easier,” Gabriel thought back.

“Why do I feel like I'm in a mind meld with a Vulcan?”

“Come again?”

“Bingo.”

Third Contact

Itishree and Aruni were on their third hour of shopping. Having taken several laps around the local suburban mall, they had stopped at a chain burger joint. Itishree didn't react well to the food and asked for a slower approach or even going home. Aruni wasn't giving in so easily and decided to take Itishree to one of her favorite stores, IKEA. Aruni guaranteed Itishree there were more restrooms per floor in IKEA than any other store in the United States.

“And,” Aruni continued the sales pitch, “IKEA is an unique experience. You get to walk through these little rooms decorated and furnished perfectly. It is amazing!"

Itishree capitulated and later was glad she did. Once she topped the main entry’s stairway the little kid in Itishree came out, “I’m looking into a dozen beautiful rooms at the same time!” she squealed. They both squealed. Bounding from one room to another, Itishree and Aruni bounced from chair to couch, imagining living within each space.

Aruni admitted to Itishree when she was lonely or down she would often drive out to IKEA and walk the store at least once. Or, as many times as it would take to lift her spirit.

“One of these rooms always removed my suffering. I just had to find that room and sit in it for a few moments. Then, I felt better and could leave with a smile,” Aruni held onto her cousin’s arm. They sat in one of the large living room exhibits looking at the cardboard HDTV as if their favorite program was coming back from commercial.

“I like this IKEA,” Itishree blurted, and smiled. So many smiles today. So much to see and do. Itishree thought of the work she had put into being here and of her father who pushed her to do more, to be more. She stared beyond the furniture, beyond these walls. She was looking beyond the here or the now. A single tear rolled down Itishree's face. The saltiness reminded her of all those tears she shed after her father had passed. But she managed a smile, too.

“Uncle would be so very proud of you,” Aruni whispered. They leaned toward each other and shared the moment.

It was Aruni who broke the silence. She stood. “Now I need to pee. I'm going to cut over to the cafe and use the restroom.”

Itishree stood and started down the path, where lit arrows guided customers deeper into the store.

“I’ll be in the area,” Itishree assured Aruni. She made a circling motion with her index finger.

Aruni darted towards the stairwell. Itishree watched her go then turned to see what wonders lay before her. Itishree could see there were only four living room displays left before the children's area. She had no interest in seeing the children's area. Education, career, husband, family — those were her choices and the correct order in which they should arrive. Itishree comforted herself with those rules her father had given her. She walked up to the next display, a spartan white furnished room. She found it neat but imagined it for a young person who wanted more than a dorm room during college. It wasn't for a young professional like herself. Itishree took in the smaller items but really couldn't warm up to the display. She backed away and crossed the hall toward the large display on the left.