The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [161]
The scene shifted back to the stage. On it, Sage Carson raised his hands, his splendid words rising toward a crescendo.
“A time of darkness is coming. We see the signs all around us—war, strife, and suffering. Men have forgotten the will of God, and the world is sick and dying. Once before, when evil ruined the world, God knew the only way to save it was to wash it clean and start anew.” Carson's voice dropped low. “Such a time draws near again.”
An audible gasp rose from the audience, along with wails of fear. Carson swept a hand before him. “No, don't despair, for sometimes the only way to save something is to destroy it first. Our world has been corrupted beyond redemption by the unholy, the unrighteous, the unbelievers. And so God has decided once again to save it the only way He can: by destroying the world and making it anew in His image.”
Sickness filled Travis. He wanted to get up, to switch off the TV, but he could only watch.
“So rejoice!” Carson's voice blared out of the television's speaker. “If the Angels of Light come for you, then you have been chosen to prepare the way for His coming. And while the sinners, the evildoers, and the heathens will perish, you will dwell with Him in the new world to come, serving Him as one of his chosen. Hallelujah and Amen!”
The audience erupted into cheers, their fear gone, their eyes alight with fervent joy. Carson smiled, holding his hands out as if in a blessing. However, as the camera panned out over the Steel Cathedral, it couldn't quite hide the men in black suits who stood before the stage, pushing back any who tried to ascend toward the preacher.
Carson waved and walked off the stage, and the camera followed after him. As he reached the curtain at the edge of the stage, it was pulled back by an unseen hand. Carson turned to wave one last time, and in that moment the television showed a glimpse of what lay behind the curtain. Travis could see ropes for operating the curtains, and scaffolding for lights. He also saw a pair of uniformed security guards standing just offstage. One was a large man, but the other was a petite woman with short brown hair. She was young, her prettiness marred by a stern expression.
Travis leaped to his feet. On TV, Carson stepped through the opening, and the curtain fell back into place. The camera panned again to the chanting audience as credits rolled across the screen. Travis couldn't have read them if he wanted to. Instead he stared blindly, his hands twitching at his sides.
Jace. The woman standing backstage was Deputy Jacine Windom. Only she was no longer a sheriff's deputy in Castle City, and her presence at the Steel Cathedral could only mean one thing.
Travis knew where Duratek had hidden the gate.
“You're in luck,” the goateed man said as he stepped back behind the counter. “It looks like we do have one bed left. It's all yours, so come on back.”
Travis nodded, too numb to disagree. He shuffled down the hallway after the bowlegged man. Along the way they passed a willowy young woman with a pierced nose and long hair dyed a verdant green. She carried a stack of folders.
The young woman smiled—a beautiful expression. “Welcome to the Hope Mission,” she said, then headed through a side door. Travis tried to glimpse what was in the room, but the man gestured for him to keep following.
They came to a larger room filled with a haphazard array of folding tables and chairs. The floor was scuffed tile, the walls a yellow too grungy to be cheerful. Fluorescent lights sputtered overhead. Another TV stood in a corner, but thankfully this one was tuned to the inane babble of a late-night talk show.
“This is the commissary,” the young man said. “The men's dormitory is through there. Yours will be the one bed that isn't claimed. There's a bathroom in there if you want to get cleaned up before you go to sleep.”
Travis shook his