Reborn

4

The Sunday meeting was late getting started. Brother Robert wasn't here yet, and if he didn't show soon someone would be asked to start it in his place. Grace hoped no one asked her to speak. She wouldn't know what to say. She glanced around the room at the small, chatting groups. There seemed to be an air of expectation among the Chosen. Martin was paler than usual, and seemed especially tense. She felt it herself and could see it in the eyes of the others. Only the strange Mr. Veilleur seemed immune to it. He was sitting by himself in the last row, in the same spot as Wednesday, staring off into space.

Suddenly Brother Robert burst in, his eyes bright and feverish, his face flushed. He was waving a newspaper.

"This is it!" he cried, waving the tabloid in the air. "The sign we have been waiting for! It has come!"

He rushed by her to the front. The aura of peace and tranquillity that usually enveloped him was gone. His movements were abrupt as he squared himself behind the lectern. His usually soft brown eyes glinted in the fluorescent light. He radiated nervous energy as he began making the sign of the cross without waiting for the Chosen to be seated.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, bless this gathering.

"Friends! We've all been touched by the Spirit in a special way. We've been privileged to be made aware of the incarnation of the Evil One, the Father of Lies, the Antichrist, who would undo all the work of the Son of God and his followers and his Church, who would plunge the world into eternal darkness. We have sensed his presence, but we haven't known in what guise he would come."

Brother Robert held up the front page of the newspaper. Grace recognized The Light.

"Now we know!

"The story revealed in these pages is a fantastic one, an incredible one, one I'm sure will be dismissed as deranged confabulation because of the very nature of the story itself, and because of its trashy source. But let me tell you, friends, the story is true!

"How do I know? Because the Spirit was with me this morning as I passed a corner newsstand. The Spirit drew my attention to these headlines, urged me to pick up the paper and read it. And as I read the article inside I knew that each word was true!"

Brother Robert rolled up the paper and began slapping it against his left palm as he went on.

" 'God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.' " He allowed his Son, Jesus, to be born into the family of a poor carpenter. He allowed a prostitute, Mary Magdalen, to comfort His Son as He carried the Cross to his destiny. And He has chosen a humble, much-maligned tabloid to reveal to His Chosen the identity of the Antichrist.

"The Light tells of the story of a scientist who, with the typical arrogance of all scientists who think man's puny mind capable of unraveling the mysteries of God's nature, decided to play God. This man perverted God's scheme for the reproduction of humankind and, in an arrogant attempt to usurp the power of God, caused a vile abomination to be born. This scientist took a piece of his own flesh, and from it grew another human being! He called this thing a 'clone'—an exact replica of himself. Yes! He played God by creating another being in his own earthly image!"

Grace gasped. How could such a thing be possible? She glanced over to where Mr. Veilleur sat. She noticed that for the first time since his arrival he seemed interested in what was being said. Very interested. He was leaning forward in his seat, his eyes intent on Brother Robert.

" 'But what does this have to do with the Antichrist?' you say. Let the Spirit flow into your mind as I did, and you will see that the creature resulting from this blasphemous experiment is not a man! Oh, he may look like a man, he may act like a man, and he may speak like a man, but he is a hollow thing with no soul! No soul! For how can he have a soul? He is not a new human being, born of man and woman, and therefore the possessor of a new soul. No! He is a mere collection of cells donated by a scientist playing God! And as such, he is a perfect vessel for Satan! The Evil One has entered his soulless body and is ready to begin subverting the salvation brought to us by Jesus Christ!"

The Chosen broke out in cries of astonishment and concern. Grace kept to herself. She wrapped her arms around her against the chill that was slowly seeping through her body.

"Consider carefully," Brother Robert went on. "The Spirit has made us aware of the Antichrist during the past month. We have felt its loathsome presence. According to this article, it was four weeks ago today that this scientist died in a plane crash."

A month ago today? In a plane crash? That had a familiar ring to it. Grace's chill deepened.

"When his will was read, it was discovered that the scientist had left his entire fortune—many millions of dollars—to a young stranger who looks exactly like he looked in his younger days. A record of the scientist's blasphemous experiments was found among his papers. They tell the whole hideous story."

Grace was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the scenario Brother Robert was outlining. It sounded too much like…

"And doesn't it strike you as strange, and so very convenient for the Heir—for that is what I call him—the Heir to Evil. Wasn't it convenient for the Heir that his creator died just as we were becoming aware of the menace of the Antichrist? Wasn't it convenient that this soulless creature suddenly became wealthy beyond one's wildest dreams? That suddenly he possessed financial power that could soon be parlayed into greater wealth and influence, influence that could be brought to bear on mankind?

"Am I the only one who sees something more than mere chance at work here?"

There was a chorus of nos from the Chosen. Grace glanced at Mr. Veilleur and found him looking her way. His expression was grave.

"I fear your Brother Robert may be right," he said to Grace in a low voice. "Righter than he knows."

Brother Robert went on. "Who knows what plans the Evil One has to destroy the work of the Son of God and His followers? I'm sure none of our most deranged nightmares can touch the hem of the foulness he has in store for us.

"But there is another hand at work here. One that has singled us out as leaders in the fight against this abomination. Soon the world will know him as the clone of a dead scientist. But we know that he is more—much more. We know him as the Antichrist, and it is our task to stop him!"

"But how?" said Martin from the front row.

"Expose him!" Brother Robert cried, rapping the lectern with the rolled tabloid. "Let the world know who he is! Forewarned is forearmed! The truth and the power of the Son of God, the True Christ, will be our weapon against him!"

"But how?" another voice said.

"We'll confront him where he lives! We'll put on a demonstration. The Negroes in your country demonstrate for civil rights, the ones called Hippies demonstrate for peace. The Chosen shall demonstrate for Christ. The story in The Light will bring him much publicity—perhaps the Antichrist wants that. We, however, will guarantee that he gets exactly the type of publicity he does not want. Wherever he goes, some of us will be there with signs exposing him as a spawn of blasphemy, a vehicle for Satan. Whenever the TV cameras and newspaper photographers capture him on film, our message—God's message—will be visible in the background."

"Amen!" Martin cried. It was echoed by another, and another. Members of the Chosen began to rise to their feet.

Even Grace could feel herself getting caught up in the fire. The frissons of unease were burned away by the passion of Brother Robert's conviction as he strode back and forth across the front of the room, brandishing the rolled tabloid like a sword.

"Some people will laugh at us, but many more will not. And when the Antichrist tries to exert his influence over the world, our message will be remembered, and a question will linger, even in the hearts of nonbelievers. We can foil his plans, friends! With the help of the Spirit we can defeat him! We can! And we'll start now! Today!"

They were all on their feet—all except for Mr. Veilleur— and cheering, praising the Lord, many speaking in tongues.

"Where do we find him?" Martin cried when the room began to quiet.

"Not far from here," Brother Robert said. "Which is why I believe we were chosen by the Spirit. He lives a short way out on Long Island, near Glen Cove. A place called Monroe."

Suddenly all Grace's previous creeping anxieties crashed back in on her with the force of a blow.

Monroe! No, it can't be Monroe!

"What's his name?" Martin called out.

Grace wanted to shut the answer from her ears, did not want to hear the name she already knew.

"James Stevens," Brother Robert said. "A creature who calls himself James Stevens is the Antichrist!"

No! It can't be! Not Carol's husband!

The room spun once around Grace, then went black.