Fireforce

By Lisa Greco Filali

In a time when only the strong, the devious, and the corrupt can survive, Hollywood heartthrob Cris Taylor, street kid Zeffyr and dedicated hacker Zayne --- brought together by the mysterious Parakletos --- find their futures and very survival depend on learning to trust each other and their ability to outwit a powerful, ruthless enemy determined to destroy them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crown of Life Media
• Release date: Apr 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532390333

Book preview

Fireforce

Fireforce

Copyright 2019  Lisa F. Filali

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

ISBN 978-1-5323-9033-3

To Sara and Julia, who inspired this story in the first place

Part I

Ignite

Prologue

Crisis plagues the remains of what was once the greatest nation on earth.  For over one hundred and fifty years, the United States had been a beacon of power, prosperity and peace; but when a select group of intellectuals spear-headed a movement to strip the halls of academia, the processes of the judiciary and the public arena of the richness of her proud heritage, things began to change. 

So subtle was the shift, even those who should have known the difference were lulled to sleep by the misinformation, misinterpretation and outright distortion of the founding principles upon which the nation was built.  Soon, instead of looking to the One who had so masterfully orchestrated the birth and government of the country, her people began believing they themselves were responsible and as such, expecting the government to cure the ills that began to gnaw at her very foundations.

As the nation began to accept mores and practices once considered heinous and punishable by law, her prosperity began to unravel.  Desperate and misinformed voters, looking to the federal government to solve the economic crisis that was inevitable, elected a radical socialist leader, who used his executive powers to throw the nation into such immorality and debt that it seemed she might never recover.  Using his influence to play upon the now ignorant masses, he backed out of what many deemed an unnecessary fight and left her open to what became the greatest wave of attack and devastation the world had ever known.

Renowned terrorist organizations invaded, first by air, leaving in ruins her coastal cities and devastating many of the inland commerce centers as well, then with biological weapons that poisoned her food supply.  In a matter of a couple short years, they succeeded in bringing her to her knees.

It was then that the horror really began.

Frustrated and misguided vigilantes assassinated the president and many of his cabinet.  As lack, disease and chaos ravaged the nation, what was left of the liberal Congress and activist judges determined that the Constitution and the Bill of Rights were too antiquated to serve modern society, so they were reinterpreted to set in place a new Democratic Regime in an effort to restore the nation to her former glory.  

The State as they now referred to themselves, promptly dissolved the hierarchy of state government, leaving only each state’s governor as an underling to the centralized powers located in the renamed capitol of D.C. – Democratic City.  Military forces were withdrawn from every foreign field and employed to enforce the new ordinances set forth by the new government and to keep the peace --- a full time job.

Christianity, its practice and any mention of the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth was outlawed and punishable by imprisonment, or worse.  The children of known practicing Christians were removed from their homes, institutionalized and reared by the state in an effort to ensure the sect could not perpetuate itself even clandestinely.  Those adults deemed less dangerous were sent to internment camps to provide labor for the new regime, and thus the common good.

Free trade, private education and ownership were now a thing of the past.  The State administered all supply, owned all property and determined what was taught in the ‘public’ schools.  Still, the nation suffered.  Nothing but fear, mistrust, lack and crime seemed to flourish.

As foretold by founding father Benjamin Franklin, when the nation forgot God it became a byword and a reproach to the rest of the world.  The longer they went on, refusing to seek Him, the more they convinced themselves that He had truly abandoned America…

Chapter One

Not a single star was visible.  Blackness covered the city, humidity hanging in the air like a shroud so intense it was almost tangible.  Even the moon did little to brighten the night, masked as it was by thick clouds moving across the sky as though to usher in a storm.  Instead it cast a faint and eerie pall, being the only light shining inside or out.

Tropical weather and beautiful beaches, coupled with a reputation for wealth, casual living, modern night life and family-oriented theme parks had made Florida a playground for the rich and famous and a highly coveted vacation destination.  Her irresistible allure drew all sorts of sun-seekers, money makers and those simply desiring the quiet, natural life she promised.  Swelling with prosperity, she was an opportunity for some, a utopia for others and for many just a dream.

When the bio-terror attacks came, the devastation to the citrus crops was immediate and pervasive.  There was no way to know how long it would take for the land to recover.  Previous attacks had all but leveled Miami, cratered Orlando, reduced to rubble many of her other coastline cities and decimated the beaches, not only taking a vast toll on the population but effectively ruining the tourist industry and reducing a once flourishing economy to poverty almost overnight. 

Central Florida, once thought to be effectively immune from the challenges facing the coastal areas of the state, had become a veritable wasteland of abandoned acreage, broken down buildings, and decaying disrepair.  It seemed the only inhabitants left were those who lacked the resources to flee and those who sought to control them.

In an effort to stem the looting, crime and terror, which was overwhelming the overburdened peacekeeping forces, the State had set a blanket curfew of 11:00 p.m. All street lights were extinguished and anyone found lighting their own dwelling or moving about was subject to immediate action.  Sometimes just a warning was issued, but the overzealous and frustrated patrols often took matters into their own hands and people simply disappeared.  There was no one to question it; most of the time no one even noticed.

Still there was no way to completely stem the nocturnal activities of the criminal and the desperate.  After midnight, a subculture seeped through the city to a pulse all its own.  As the old philosopher once stated, Desperate times called for desperate measures.

In front of the dilapidated remnant of the Lakeland Electric building, a young soldier shifted nervously from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around in all directions continuously.  Removing his camo hat, he ran his hand through a shock of blond hair and wiped his forehead.  Man, it’s hot.  He mumbled, to no one in particular. 

Dressed in lightweight camo fatigues with a sleeveless khaki tee shirt, his lean, sinewy frame was tense. Pacing a few steps in one direction, then the other, he looked like a caged animal.  He hated this after-curfew shift; it gave him the creeps.  You never knew what you were going to run into out here; certainly it wouldn’t be anything good.  Shivering slightly, even in the heat, he stretched his arms.  Sometimes he thought this was even worse than his tour in Iraq.  At least there, he knew what he was fighting against.  Here, it was his own countrymen, and usually the destitute at that.  It didn’t make sense and he resented it.  

From around the corner that led to the back of the building and down an embankment to where the ruins of the once picturesque Lake Mirror sat, a young man about the same age appeared, zipping his army green fatigues and smoothing his black tee shirt.  Thicker in build, he was olive-skinned, his deep, dark eyes cold and set in an angular face, giving him a severe countenance.  His thin, slit of a mouth was curved in a satisfied grin.

The blond huffed, impatiently.  You ready?

Cold Eyes pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one between his lips.  With exaggerated slowness, he retrieved a lighter and set the cigarette ablaze.  After a long draw, he shrugged.  What’s your hurry?

He stretched, surveying the perimeter cautiously.  I just like to keep moving.

Probably won’t see much action tonight.  Cold Eyes chuckled.  Or much more.  Maybe we can find some for you.

Blondie turned away to hide his disgust from his companion.  Where is she?

Cold Eyes shrugged and looked around.  Who cares?  Probably crawled back into whatever hole she came out of.

He knew that many of the patrols would allow the young women they encountered to walk away in exchange for certain favors; a practice he found deplorable.  To take advantage of the desperation of another human being was inexcusable, though he kept his opinions to himself.  In these times, it didn’t pay to voice any dissension to the lawless, selfish practices of the general populace, and even less so of the Peacekeepers, which is what the law enforcement officers were now called.  So when they had come upon the stringy haired, obviously malnourished dishwater blond rummaging in a dumpster for food, he’d said nothing when his partner had insisted she go with him behind the building --- in exchange for going free. 

Dropping the cigarette on the ground, Cold eyes ground it out with his boot.  Come on.  Let’s go.

Moving on in silence, they began their sweep of the area.

Blondie was grateful they’d pulled this detail.  Downtown Lakeland was one of the least active sectors in the city.  As several of the old high rise housing buildings now served as barracks for the peacekeeping forces in this area, and most of what remained of the local business community was also housed here, with hired State guards of their own, it was too well regulated for most of the night crawlers to risk venturing in.  It would probably be a quiet night.  One could only hope.

They walked in silence, Cold Eyes carrying a large flashlight and aimlessly shining it in different directions.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Blondie thought he saw something moving.  Immediately tensed and ready for action, he asked, What was that?

What?

He stared in the general direction.  Was he imagining things?  Then he saw it again.  It looked like nothing more than a shadow.  Some sort of ghost?  Could be the devil himself for all he knew, that is, if you believed in such things.  He wasn’t sure if he did or not.

I don’t see anything.  Cold Eyes huffed.

Shine the light over there, Eddie.

Carelessly turning it toward where he pointed, Eddie was impatient.  Come on, Micah.  There’s nothing there.  Let’s just keep moving.

Micah shrugged and started after him, keeping his attention focused peripherally.  When he saw it again, moving faster, he pursued.

Micah, hey!  Disgusted, Eddie had no choice but to follow.

Unsure whether it was an apparition or something actually material, Micah was wary.  Swirling black as it moved, it looked like every picture he’d ever seen of the Grim Reaper.  He shuddered as he gave chase.  These days, there was no telling…

The figure did its best to elude him, cutting into several of the only small alleys there were downtown, knocking over trash cans and climbing over small cinderblock embankments but the swirling black whatever-it-was seemed to encumber its movement.

Couldn’t be an apparition, Micah determined, or it probably would have disappeared.  Encouraged, he found himself gaining ground and he could hear Eddie closing the distance behind him.

Coming to what used to be an old parking garage, the figure turned to enter it.

Micah knew if it got inside, there’d be little chance of finding whatever it was.  Close enough, he saw a chance and leaped, gratified when he felt the figure, very much material, give way beneath him.

What is it?  Eddie asked as he caught up.

I don’t know.  He answered, then grabbed the hood and yanked it back.  Whoa.

What!  Eddie demanded.

Looking up at him defiantly were the bluest eyes Micah had ever seen, set in smooth, translucent skin and framed by full, though smooth-textured, raven hair heavily streaked with platinum.  The full mouth grimaced.

Eddie pulled his firearm.  Get up.

Both of them rose.

Now, let’s see what we have here.  He said, grabbing what was now obviously a black cloak, and pushing it back.  Hmmm, well now.

Dressed in black rayon pants which draped close over slim hips and narrowed at the bottom over flat black, front lace boots topped by a black sleeveless vest which exhibited lean, well defined arms and accented delicate curves, she was obviously not malnourished.

What are you doing out here?  Eddie demanded.  You obviously aren’t starving.

Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin proudly and remained silent.

Don’t you know that I could shoot you, right here?

Micah’s eyes flashed.

No.  I guess not.  Eddie laughed, shaking his head.  Man, I shoulda waited.

She just glared at him.

Though I hate to give it up, she’s all yours, Micah.  He licked his lips.  But, man if you don’t want her…

Are you kidding?  Micah said.  Look at her.

Yeah, right.

Reaching out, he took hold of her wrist.

Struggling, she tried to pull away.

Look, he spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him.  I won’t hurt you.  But if you don’t come with me, he will.

Searching his face, she saw something in his eyes she couldn’t identify or articulate, even in her own mind.  Meekly, she followed him into the garage.

When they were far enough away, he let go of her arm.

She started to bolt.

He tackled her again. 

Get off me, she hissed.

Micah thought her voice sounded like a melody, low and sultry.  I’ll get off if you promise to do what I say.

I’m not doing anything for you.

Frustrated, he almost let her go, but something inside stopped him.  Listen, if I’m not in here long enough, he’ll know either you ran or I let you go.

So?

He’ll come after you.  He hesitated a moment.  You can bet he won’t let you go.  If he doesn’t kill you…

She appeared to be thinking.

I’m not going to touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.

Are you gay?

He laughed.  No, I’m not gay.

Then, why…

Well, let’s just say I’ve never had to force a woman to be with me.  I don’t intend to start now.

Nodding, she looked at him as if actually seeing him now.  Certainly he wasn’t bad looking with that crème colored hair cut short around a well-shaped face, eyes the color of emeralds but not hard and a mouth that was neither feminine nor severe; probably what he was saying was true.

Now he smiled.  Even as beautiful as you are.

She shrugged.

Getting up, he extended his hand.  Come and sit with me awhile --- ‘til it’s safe.

Okay.  She let him help her up and they went and sat by an inner pole.

Micah wished he’d brought the flashlight, but he knew Eddie would figure he didn’t need it for what they were doing.  Away from the perimeter openings, it was nearly pitch black and impossible to see much of anything except shapes and shadows.  Too bad, because he’d sure like to look at her.

Confused, she sat quietly.  Why was he helping her?  All she knew of peacekeepers was that if they didn’t kill you, they made you pay; if you were female, usually in the kind of favors she wasn’t interested in providing.  What would he want in return, since he wasn’t exacting any payment in kind right now?

What’s your name?  He asked.

Why?

He sighed heavily.  Just making conversation.

We don’t have to talk.

No, but it’ll make the time go by faster.

She considered giving him a fake but didn’t see the point.  Zeffyr.  My name’s Zeffyr.

Zeffyr?  That your real name?

Yeah.  Why?

It’s unusual, that’s all.  Where did that come from?

She shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see her.  I don’t know.

Your parents didn’t tell you?

I don’t remember my parents.

Did they die?

I was raised in one of the government homes.

Your parents were Christians?

Maybe.  I don’t know.  She sighed.  You don’t have to have Christian parents to be raised by the State.

I know that.  He admitted.  What are you doing out here?  You’re not looking for food. 

My friend is sick.  She needs medicine.

Why isn’t she getting it herself?  Micah had enough experience with people to know that most of them wouldn’t risk their lives, especially after curfew, to help anyone else.  Was it possible she was lying?

She can’t.

Why not?

It’s difficult for her to get around, so she’d get caught for sure.  Besides, she’s feverish and congested.

Is she crippled?

Pregnant.  About 8 months or so.

Where’s the baby’s father?  Kind of a stupid question, considering the times, but he wanted to keep her talking.  For some reason, he felt an odd affinity for this girl and his instincts were generally pretty solid.

She doesn’t exactly know who he is.

I don’t understand.

He’s some peacekeeping officer.  She doesn’t even know his name let alone where to find him.

Micah felt sick.  None of these guys ever thought of the other side of what they were doing --- just their own self indulgence.  He didn’t even know why he cared, but he hated the injustice of it.  Besides, there was something about this girl; probably just the fact that she’d put herself at risk like she had for someone else.  After all, what if someone else had found her?  I’m sorry.

Half-heartedly, she shrugged again, not caring that he couldn’t see her.  After all, he was one of them, although he appeared to be different, at least on the surface.  She couldn’t help wondering.  Do you think it’s been long enough?

Not quite ready to let her go, Micah suddenly had an idea.  It was crazy, maybe even suicide, but for some reason he had to help her.  Did you get it?

Get what?

The medicine.

No.  You caught me on my way to the infirmary.

He nodded, though he knew only to himself, and got up.  C’mon.

What?

I’ll take you there.

Are you crazy?

Maybe.  Probably.

Why are you helping me?

I don’t know.  Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the way these guys use the desperate girls they find out here.  Maybe I think your friend deserves better.  He really had no explanation, even for himself.  Do you want the medicine or not?

She got up.

He led her out the back of the garage, looking warily around to make sure Eddie hadn’t rounded the corner and that no other patrols were lurking about.

Let me lead.  She said, pulling her cloak back into place.

But…

Pulling her hood back so he could see her face, she smiled.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been down here.  I know the best routes not to be seen.

Not tonight you don’t.

Look, tonight was just bad luck.  She insisted, defensively.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  If anybody but me had found you…

Zeffyr shuddered and her face softened.  Instinctively, she touched his arm and quietly said, Thank you.

Micah shivered.  He hadn’t been boasting when he said he had no trouble with women but he was choosy.  What was it about this girl?  Shaking himself, he said, We’d better get going.

As she led him through empty windows, down the halls of abandoned and broken down buildings and in and out of the shadows, he had to admit he wouldn’t have known how to get there under such cover.

Now, she said, when the building was in sight around the corner.  There’s usually a loose window in the back.  You’d better let me go alone from here.

No.

What?!

He grinned, producing a key from his pocket.  I’ll go.

But if you get caught…

It’ll be better than if you do.  Besides, there’s no one in sight.

Okay.  Curious, she nodded as she just stared at him.  There simply had to be a catch.  She knew she was flying blind, possibly right into some kind of trap that she’d be unable to extricate herself from but right now there wasn’t a better option.

What do you need?

Penicillin.

Gotcha.

Zeffyr watched as he strode confidently across the street, looking in both directions.  What were the chances?  While she avoided coming down here as much as she possibly could, as it was the most dangerous sector in the city after dark, lately she’d been down here with a frequency that made even her nervous.  Bianca had been so sick and just seemed to keep getting worse.  How could she not help her, even though she knew that the more she came the higher the chance of getting caught?  Thank God it had been someone like him who’d found her.

Thank God?  She almost laughed out loud.  If there was a God, he’d turned His back on America a long time ago; either that or He was as mean as some people said He was.  How could an all powerful, supreme being allow such chaos and destruction?  It didn’t make sense.

He was coming back across the street, his hands empty.

Uh oh.  Had he tricked her?  Was he now going to demand whatever it was that he wanted from her? Or turn her in maybe? She braced herself.

Micah could see doubt and distrust in her eyes.  He pulled a small bottle from the side pocket of his fatigues.

She relaxed, visibly.

He handed it to her.

Thanks.  She turned to go.

Wait.  He said.  Which way are you going?

Without a word, her look said, ‘you’re kidding, right?’

Hey, there are patrols all over down here.  I’ve got to go back to the parking garage and meet Eddie.  Can I see you safely back that far?

It was in the general direction she was headed, but she wasn’t sure.

If we meet anyone, I could pretend …

That made sense and she relented.  Okay.

He let her lead back the way they had come. 

When they arrived at the back side of the garage, she turned to him.  This is where I get off.

Still not ready to let her go, he hesitated.

She turned and started away.

Hey, he grabbed her arm.  My name is …

Wheeling around, she raised a hand to stop him.

Micah.

Disappointment showed on her face.  She didn’t want to know his name.  Even though he had helped her, he was one of them.  An enemy.

What was it?  He wondered.  Obviously she was healthy, well fed and judging by the way she was dressed, not without means.  So why did she seem so afraid of him?  You know, maybe we could …

Vehemently, she was shaking her head.

He reached around behind her head, leaned in and went to kiss her.

Just before he could, she turned, giving him her cheek.  Eyes flashing, she pulled back and slapped him, hard.  Immediately, she thought better of it and those intense blue pools went wide; he could kill her on the spot.  Oh, my gosh.  I’m sorry.

Shaking his head, his smile was weak.  What was he thinking?  No.  I had it coming.

But… she didn’t know exactly what to say.  Reaching out, she touched his arm, gently.  "Micah.  Thank you… for everything."

Something about the way she said his name … But before he could speak, she was gone.  All he could do was stare after her. 

Man, dude!  Eddie grinned, wolfishly, looking at his watch as he came out on the other side of the garage.  She musta been somethin’ else.

Micah just nodded absently.  More than he knew. 

Rocked your world, I’d say.  Eddie shook his head.  "Man, I can’t believe I let you have her.  That girl was hot!"

Forget it.  He said, feigning indifference.  He was doing his best to shake whatever it was off, but somehow he knew, he wouldn’t forget her.

Keeping to the shadows, Zeffyr had followed North Florida Avenue as far as 10th when she felt it: the familiar heat that began in her belly and would spread through her whole body, leaving her so feverish and broken out with blisters that she would be unable to move.  Oh, no… she murmured.  There was still so far to go and she had to get to Bianca before she went home.

Cutting across by Lakeland Regional Medical Center, which now operated at only a fraction of its former capacity, she willed herself to keep on.  It would be disastrous to say the least if she was overcome out here in the open.

In the parking lot, she stopped for a moment bending over to catch her rapidly coming breath and wiping the sheen of perspiration from her forehead.  Suddenly, she saw shadowy movement near what appeared to be some abandoned automobiles.  She had to get out of here.

The shadow came closer and whispered.  Hey!

Gathering her strength, she focused on crossing the lot to Lakeland Hills Boulevard.

Zeffyr, is that you?

She whirled around, trying to make out the face in the darkness but without success.

He stepped out of the shadows.  Even in the dark of night he looked like a creamcicle, his pale red hair, smooth and fine, pulled back and gathered with a bandana, letting it fall neatly between his shoulder blades and set as it was against fair skin dotted with a light smattering of freckles, his cappuccino eyes wide and heavy lidded.  Contrasting the gentle, almost frail face, was the sturdy, long and lean but muscular frame.  He wore a black band tee shirt, the dark writing barely visible, black bondage pants and high tops.

Oh, Cameron.  The tension left her and she nearly collapsed.

Rushing to her side, he steadied her.  You okay?

Weakly, she nodded.  What are you doing out here?

"What am I doing out here?  Looks like the fever’s coming on.  What are you doing out here?"

Bianca’s getting sicker.  I had to get her some more penicillin.

In your condition?

It just started.  But what are you doing out here?

I’m looking for a car.  A guy I met told me there’s some work in Orlando.  I’m gonna go with him to check it out.  I’ve got to meet him at the onramp to I-4.

She nodded.

There’s a car over here with some fuel left in it.  Let me get it started and I’ll take you home, okay?

Okay.

Cameron went back into the shadows, working quickly to jimmy the door to one of the cars open, then hotwiring it to get it started.  Come on, Zeffyr.  Let’s go.

Just a little slowly, she moved around the front and climbed in the passenger side.  Determined not to give in, she steeled herself.

Pulling out of the parking lot, lights off, he turned left up Lakeland Hills toward the onramp to I-4.

Are you staying in Orlando?

I’m not sure.  Depends on if this job thing pans out or not.  You know how that goes.

Grimacing, she shook her head.  Not really.

Oh yeah, he said.  Sorry.

Yeah, me too.  Her tone was weary as her head tipped back against the seat.  She was weakening quickly; it wasn’t a good sign.

Truth was, she’d never had the opportunity to get a job.  The State had determined that since there was no stopping teenagers from experimenting with sex, they would forego any burden to the general populace by inoculating all the females with a new vaccine designed to deter pregnancy and disease.  Ignoring even the feeble recommendations of the now ineffectual Food and Drug Administration of the need for further testing, hundreds of young women had been given the shot, most of them involuntarily.

It wasn’t until two years later that many of them began to show mysterious symptoms.  Debilitating fever, accompanied by all-over boils that looked like fever blisters and lasted for varying intervals rendered the victim completely immobile.  Unsure as to whether or not the disease might be transmittable, and unable to treat it successfully let alone cure it, the State had tattooed a TV, on the backs of the right hands of all sufferers, warning anyone they came in contact with that they were carriers of the mysterious malady.

A large number of young women died from the ailment.  Others were held captive in State-run facilities, while paranoid workers simply flung others out on the street, where they were left to fend for themselves.  Unable to work, and subject to the fear of the general population, they found themselves among the destitute in society’s underbelly.

Nearing the turn at Socrum, and just in sight of the onramp, the car began to sputter.  Cameron hit the steering wheel.  No!  Come on!  But it was no use, the car coasted to a stop.

They got out, left the car on the side of the road and crossed the empty street.

I’ve got to go.  Cameron said, sorrowfully.

I’m pretty sure I can make it from here.

I’m sorry.  I’d get you all the way if I could, but I don’t want to miss my ride.

It’s okay.  I appreciate you getting me this far.

I’ll see you when I get back.  If I do.

Okay.  Good luck.

He nodded, then began jogging up the street toward the turn for the highway.

Zeffyr continued up Socrum.  Laboring now, she crossed the street, keeping her eye on the broken sign in front of the Hampton Inn --- her destination.  Stopping to lean on it for a minute, she breathed heavily.  Almost there.

The small hotel had weathered the devastation well, all things considered.  There weren’t many lights left, except in individual rooms, occupied as some were, by squatters.  Worn but clean carpets still graced the foyer, where a now out of use desk stood forlorn and forgotten against the corner wall on the right.  A small hallway led to what at one time was the morning breakfast area bordered by a small kitchen and across from which sat a lounge-like alcove that housed several couches and an old flat screen television set.

On the first floor, in what must have been the manager’s office she knocked quietly at the door before going in.

To the left as you walked in was a tiny but still operational full bath, across from it to the right was an alcove that contained a mini fridge that sat beneath a short counter space where a hot plate, coffee maker and toaster oven sat.  Two short divider walls separated the kitchen/bath area from what must have been the office proper, cleared now of any office furnishings and made into a dwelling.  It was easier for Bianca if she didn’t have to climb the stairs.

She lay on a mattress on the floor in the corner, beneath a thin blanket, her breath shallow and raspy.  Who’s there?

It’s me, Bianca.

Zeffyr crossed quickly and noticed that she’d paled further, even in the short time she’d been gone.  It was difficult in this light and with the effects of the sickness to recognize the beauty that was Bianca.

Tall, long-legged and with the figure of a supermodel, she had the kind of elegant allure reminiscent of European chic so prevalent in the nineteen seventies.  Almond eyes sat wide apart, her nose thin with only a hint of rounded point and full, slightly pouty lips all set in lovely skin the color of burnished honey.

Dressed now in a loose fitting top and drawstring cotton pants, her swollen belly protruding and her skin wan, the once luxurious bronze mane hung matted and stringy around her shoulders.Oh, thank God.  Did you get it?

Yes.  She knelt beside the mattress and laid a hand on her forehead.

You’re shaking.

Shhh.  Next to the mattress on a makeshift table was a water bottle; not very cold, but it would have to do.  She struggled with the bottle cap.

Are you getting sick?

Never mind about that.  Can you swallow this?

I think so.

She slipped an arm around her neck and helped her sit up.

Bianca opened her mouth to take the pill.

Zeffyr held the bottle to her lips and tipped it.

With a small effort, she was able to swallow the medicine.  Did you have any trouble?

Nothing to worry about.

Zeffyr…

Seriously.  I got stopped by a pair of peacekeepers, but one of them let me go.

Oh, Zeffyr, you didn’t.

No.  This guy just pretended like we were gonna go do something, then he helped me get the medicine and let me go.

Are you kidding?

She shook her head, suddenly not wanting to talk about it.

He didn’t…

No.  She started to get up.

Oh, thank God.  Bianca reached out to grab her arm.  You’re not leaving are you?

I have to.  I don’t know how long this will last or how severe it will be and I don’t want to put the baby at risk.

What happens if I go into labor?  Who will help me?

I’ll be back as soon as I can.

All right.  She lay back heavily, expelling raspy breath.

As Zeffyr made for the door, she heard the sound of her shallow breathing.  Relieved, she sighed.  Bianca would rest now; hopefully the medicine would take care of the rest.

Her room was on the second floor.  Leaning heavily on the rail, she started to climb the stairs.  Fever was coming on so strong; she slipped to her knees and crawled the rest of the way up and down the hall.

Once inside, it was all she could do to get the door locked before she collapsed on her bed.  Immobile, she burned not only with the fever that was raging through her body, but with the injustice of it.  No one had talked to any of the girls, done any kind of physical exam or anything.  The powers that be had just assumed, and given them all the shot.

Zeffyr had never had that kind of relationship, nor did she want to.  Something inside seemed to prevent her, though she couldn’t explain it.  She liked boys and had been very attracted to several, who reciprocated the attention, but that was as far as it went.  A couple had tried to take it further, but when they found they couldn’t persuade her, they wanted to move on, and she let them with no regret.

Feeling her body succumb, she murmured, Oh, God… I can’t go on like this… please… help me… and everything went black.

Stirring, she was unsure how long she’d been down.  It could have been moments or days for all she knew.  Outside the window, it appeared to be still dark but a strange glow in her room caused her to jerk upright.  What?  Whoa…

On the wall opposite her bed, it looked like a movie was playing but as she looked around the room, there was no one there.  Creeped out, she shrunk back, but then relaxed as the images played in front of her.

A young woman, maybe ten years older than Zeffyr herself, was sitting with two children about four years of age.  Jet black hair hung in luxurious rivulets over her shoulders and down her back, matching the deep kohl of her eyes, kind and full of affection.  Altogether an attractive package, dressed in a white cotton blouse and jeans, there was a book open in her lap as if she’d been teaching.  She was smiling as she gathered the children to her and held them tenderly.

Are you ready?  She asked.

Both children nodded.

Okay.  Now repeat after me:  Father God, I come to you in Jesus’ name.  I believe you sent Jesus to die for me and that He rose again from the dead.  Jesus, please come into my heart.  Be my Lord and Savior.  Cleanse me from all sin and make me like you.  I receive you now and I thank you that I’m a child of God.  I will live for you all the days of my life: pure and holy.

Each of them repeated it.

Praise the Lord. 

They hugged her tightly with childlike adoration that was obviously familiar and unfeigned.

Kissing the tops of each of their heads in turn, she said, softly.  Oh, my beautiful babies. Zayne, Zeffyr, I’m so proud of you.

Then, as she watched, men in black stormed in, pulled the children from her arms and dragged them away.  The children cried and struggled, as did the young woman as rough hands grabbed her and the images disappeared.

Instinctively, Zeffyr knew she was witnessing what had taken place when the State had taken her into custody and that the woman was her mother.  Why was she seeing this now?  What had happened to her mother?  And whoa, was that boy her brother?  What had happened to him?  Would she ever see either one of them again?  And where was her father?  Silent tears began to fall, as the questions rolled across her mind and she blacked out again.

Zeffyr, a soft voice, distinctively male, called.

She roused, though barely.  Cameron?  Is that you?

Zeffyr.

This time there was more than just an image on the wall.  The entire room was filled with a light brighter than any she had ever seen.  Immediately, she was fully conscious and sitting up but unsure whether she was really awake or if it was still some kind of dream.  Who’s there?

I am He that liveth and was dead.

Straining, she peered into the light, trying to distinguish the details of what seemed to be some sort of form.  It appeared like a fire, glowing amber but without distinct flames, from the hips up and down, intense and strangely beautiful.  I don’t know what that means.

I am the Resurrection and the Life.  Whoever comes to me will in no wise be cast out.

Suddenly, from somewhere deep inside, she understood the vision she’d seen earlier.  This was Jesus; he was real and He hadn’t abandoned her.  Why had He come to her and why now?  What do you want from me?

When you call on me, I will answer you.

Ok, but…

I am the Lord that healeth thee.

You mean…

He reached out His hand and touched her.  A different kind of heat enveloped her, starting from where His hand rested on her head, intangible, and rolling like waves over every inch of her body, inside and out.  More suddenly than they’d erupted, the boils disappeared and the fever evaporated completely. 

Inside, she knew something had changed as she felt her face and looked over her arms.  Then she gasped; even the tattoo on the top of her right hand was gone.  This was no dream.  Slipping off the side of the bed, she fell down before Him.  My Lord and my God.  How can I ever thank you?

Go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the Name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them all that I have commanded you.  You shall lay hands on the sick and they shall recover.

Really?  How will I do that?

Behold, I am with you even until the end of the age.

I believe in You.  Show me what to do.

There is a place where my Spirit has been sought after and honored.  Wait upon Me there.

What is this place?

The River.

The river?  There aren’t any rivers here.

He placed his hand on her head and immediately her understanding was opened. 

She could see a building with large windows, set back in a secluded area like a field.  It didn’t look like any place in Lakeland.  How do I get there?

The steps of a righteous man are ordered of the Lord.  As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God.  He was gone.

For a few moments, she sat on the floor, trying to make sense of all that had transpired.  Why after all these years, at least twelve, had Jesus come to her now?  Then she remembered, she had asked God for help.  She couldn’t ever remember doing that before. 

Inside, she knew there was a calling --- a job he wanted her to do.  How to start?  Sitting quietly, with effort she forced her mind to quit racing and be still.  From somewhere deep down, she sensed a sort of prompting --- something she’d never experienced before --- yet somehow she was certain of the next step.  She would pack her things and take the highway.  Crazy as it seemed, with no definite travel route, she was sure it was the right course.  Her steps would be ordered as she followed His leading.

Then there was this laying hands on the sick thing…  Almost at once, she thought about Bianca.  Of course!  That same prompting seemed to tell her to leave it alone.  Could that be right?  Somehow she didn’t think so.

Gathering her few belongings into a knapsack, she wrestled with it, feeling almost as though there was something on the inside trying to hold her back.  She shook it off.  If he wanted her to lay hands on the sick, she would obey him, regardless.

With only the slightest apprehension, she looked around one last time at the little room she had called home for nearly a year.  Somehow, she was sure she wouldn’t be back.

Downstairs, she knocked softly on Bianca’s door.

Who is it?  Her voice sounded stronger.

It’s me, Zeffyr.

Are you still sick?

No.  Can I come in?

Okay.

Bianca was sitting up, drinking some water.

You look a lot better.  She swallowed self consciously.  How long has it been?

Eyeing her curiously, she answered.  Just a couple of hours.  I think the penicillin is helping.

Very cool.

What’s going on?  I thought you were getting the fever?

It’s the wildest thing.  I had a vision.

A vision?  Bianca looked wary.

Jesus Christ came to me.  He put his hand on my head and healed me.

Are you crazy?  She huffed derisively.  You must have been out of it.  Did that peacekeeper give you something?

Zeffyr frowned.  No.  I’m telling you, I saw Him.  He spoke to me.

She shook her head.  Zeffyr, that’s just an old myth for weak minded people.

Bianca, I was down with the fever.  But the boils disappeared and look, she held out her hand.  Even the tattoo is gone.

Looking petrified, Bianca shrunk back.