Tag Archives: Alan Zarus

Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.37 It’s Not You, It’s Me

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Book II: Chapter 37
July 15

I watched as Alan and Miriam were led as prisoners through the secret corridors of the Vatican underworld. After his brutal beating, Alan was nearly unconscious, while Miriam’s face was the picture of confusion. It seemed clear to me that she didn’t recognize Cardinalate Marrollo — and the fact that his mind had earlier repelled her Psychic Probe must have been disconcerting indeed.

Was she perplexed by a man who was addressed as ‘His Majesty’ and yet was clearly not the Pope?

Cardinalate Marrollo

Who was this gang of monks willing to do his every bidding – up to and including brutal violence?

Most importantly, how could she and Alan escape?

Whatever Miriam might have thought, I had no way of knowing, and before she had time to figure out how to escape, suddenly Marrollo turned around in front of a service elevator and announced, “Benedict awaits.”

As it turned out, Pope Benedict XVI was indeed waiting for the prisoners in the conservatory of his private residence. And when Marrollo and his masked crew walked in, I noticed the smile on Joseph’s unmasked face – it was the picture of a certain underlying hunger he was unable to contain.

“Excellent…”

(Hmm, Joe was clearly eager to learn more about the intruders, but did he really care about secret treasures they’d allegedly stolen or was it something more… sinister?)

“So, who are our grave robbers?” The Pope asked casually, but when the group of monks separated to reveal their prisoners, Joe immediately changed his tone, “Get out — all but Marrollo and the prisoners!” When they hesitated he arose, “The Curse of the Angel of Death be upon you if you all don’t leave my presence this very instant!”

The priests hurried out of the room, the fear of God speeding their exit. Meanwhile, Miriam was left to try to help Alan get mask back on and then get into one of the chairs to rest, after which she stood silent, waiting.

As for Marrollo, although I couldn’t see his visage behind the mask, he seemed fairly unfazed as he approached the Pope. “I found this on the woman.” And here his left hand emerged from his robes as he handed over a small scroll.

(Now for some reason I had a fleeting thought that something was off about the way that Marrollo had just handed over his prize to Joe, yet before I could consider further the inkling was lost).

Marrollo added, “I have fulfilled my duties. You have the prisoners and that which they sought. I leave the remainder of the matter to you.”

Joseph looked long at the Cardinalate, before finally nodding his ascent. With the Pope’s approval, Marrollo turned around and left – without a further glance at his captives.

(Strange man, huh?)

Once they were alone, Joseph turned towards Miriam and Alan, “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you? Darling, you can remove that silly mask here, don’t you remember the Covid Rules don’t apply here.”

“I feel more comfortable with it on, thank you, Your Grace.” Miriam replied guardedly.

“Suit yourself. But I must say – how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters come together in unity, right?” Joseph smiled, but then, remembering the circumstances, “But what happened? You know you have full reign of my city; why would you ever need to sneak around behind my back? Unless… do you no longer trust ME?”

“No, it’s not that.” Miriam lied. “Well, you see, it’s just that… what we had to do… er, it didn’t really involve…”

“Enough!” The Pope slammed his fist.

“Let’s cut to the heart of the matter.” Pope Benedict continued. “The real reason you are here is… the time is now.” And before Miriam could reply, he added, “The Beast is Bill Bates in the form of Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus and we all know it.”

(Is it? I honestly don’t know anymore).

Miriam looked over at Alan who appeared to have recovered. Sitting up in his chair, ALan flashed a wink to Miriam, then nodded to The Pope.

“I can see that you agree.” Joe concluded

“But, why do YOU agree, Your Grace?” Alan asked.  

“Lazarus, how can you doubt that I would be informed about this situation? Why, ensuring The Second Coming is a matter of state around here. Come now, I represent an entire world of believers. The tapestry of history that my Catholic children have lived surely rivals what you, Mary, and John have done – despite your long lives.” And then, as if realizing it for the first time, “But wait, where is John?”

“He chose not to come, Your Grace.” Alan explained sadly. “We still hold out hope that he will join us, but his participation is very much in question. You see, John is experiencing a period of doubt.”

“We all have our doubts. Frankly, I’m a bit upset with you for not coming to me sooner – it made me doubt the intelligence I’d received proclaiming BAVI, er, Bates as The Beast — for I knew that Satan’s son would not emerge with you three idling in the background. Do you realize that your hesitation has allowed the man calling himself Dr. Ma’bus extra time to secure his place?” And looking at Miriam he grumbled, “How many lives have been lost in your Book of Life?”

Miriam avoided his glance, “You know the final number is only 144,000. It cannot be avoided. And we are not there yet.”

“Then why do you cry about it? It is what it is. We all have our part to play and some of us will be required to die for the cause – that’s why it’s called ‘sacrifice.’ All that matters is the End Game.” And, with a snicker the Pope added, “Ah, but don’t worry about your own hesitation — because I have not been so idle. In fact, I’ve been orchestrating events behind the scenes and playing our moves to perfection. As a result, the outcome is inevitable – why Kasparov himself couldn’t have played a better game!”

Confident in his plans, Benedict said encouragingly, “Buck up, friends, keep your eye on the prize and remember what we’re playing for — our Lord is about to return! And WE are responsible for making it happen!”

(Is Joe really one of the Good Guys or is he just playing us?)

“Excuse us if we don’t quite share your exuberance.” Alan replied. “The game is not over, thus the outcome is far from certain.”

“It’s called ‘Faith,’ my friends. Try it for a change.” And before they could dispute him, Joe spoke on, “In any event, the fact of the matter is that Bates IS The Beast, the time IS now, and WE are responsible for stopping him.” And after the briefest of pauses to lick his lips, “Am I to assume that you have The Nails with you?”

(Oh, Joe, you sly dog!)

Miriam’s gaze fell into her lap, and Alan stuttered to reply, “We don’t have all three Nails anymore. Ah, er… Dr. Ma’bus… has mine.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. How did it happen?” The Pope was clearly fishing.

Alan looked to Miriam for support and when she nodded, he took that as her approval for him to tell his tale, therefore he spent the next candlemark or so explaining the highlights of his capture and torture at the hands of Dr. Flipflop and Bill Bates. He talked about the Fallen Angels, about Bates’ devious plans, and even about the terrible Chairs of Woe.

Alan in the Chair of Woe

All the while Joe listened as if hearing the information for the first time.

(He is such a good actor – I guess it goes with the office).

In case you’re wondering, there was no point for Miriam to try her Psychic Probe on the Pope — this wasn’t the first time she and Joe had crossed paths – like me, she had known him for many years prior to his ascension to the papal throne. I remember one of her letters from a while back (one that I actually read) in which she described meeting an unusual clergyman whose mind was closed to her. In the letter, she warned Alan and I to keep an eye on this priest named Joseph Ratzinger. I didn’t pay it much mind back then (this was perhaps 50 years ago), but I guess Miriam’s inclination was right. And yet, I’m sure that, as she sat before him on this day, she was more than a little bitter than she couldn’t sift through the Pope’s mental fibers to find out if he was really a friend or a foe.

Just then I realized that I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation…

“…see that you agree.” Joseph was saying. “But what I don’t understand is where are Mary and John’s Nails?”

“They are safe.” Miriam averred.

“Well, let me see them.”

“We don’t have them on us.”

“That’s preposterous! Considering what happened with Alan’s Nail, I should think that you would have them strapped to your side.  Come. Come. No lies. I know you have them, let’s see them.”

“Miriam speaks the truth.” Alan said. “Don’t worry, they are safe.”

“As safe as your Budapest bank vault? Alan. Mary. I have known you my whole life. I don’t understand what has happened between us. Why do you doubt me now? What have I done to make you think I am not who I really am?”

(Well for starters, Joe, you’ve been hanging around with Mystery. And you’re an open supporter of Ma’bus. And then there was my dream about you actually killing Ma’bus!)

“It’s not you,” Miriam began.

“Oh don’t you dare try to give me the it’s not you, it’s me speech.” The Pope interrupted. “I think you owe me a little more than that.”

“What do you want us to say?” Alan squirmed.

“I want the truth!” Joseph’s face grew red with anger.

“Then what would YOU do if you were in our position?” Miriam’s anger matched The Pope’s. “Why are you surprised if we are hesitant about you if all we see of you in the public eye is you palling around with Bates?” And with even more passion, “Joseph, surely you know that your actions are driving people around the world to follow this man Ma’bus – yet to us it seems as if they were merely sheep being led to the slaughter!”

“Ah, but most of them are.” The Pope was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes were suddenly blazing with fire.

(What? Joe, say it ain’t so? Are you revealing yourself as The Beast?!?)

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38 – Prepare the Way for the Lord
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.36 Friar Tuck’s UNMerry Men

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Book II: Chapter 36
July 15

Bored out of my mind, at last I watched as Alan followed Miriam out of the cubby they’d been hiding in and back into the wooden stall they started from yesterday, and then out from there and into the Chapel of the Choir at St. Peter’s Basilica. Once more they were masked, gloved, and wearing their Covid QR Passes.

Miriam took a quick walk to the chapel’s entrance and, when she felt comfortable that the coast was clear, she motioned Alan to follow. I watched as they blended into a nearby tour group that was on its way to the piazza. Here Alan took a deep breath and then proceeded forward.

Unfortunately his happy attitude was short lived – for as the tour group began leaving the atrium to exit the basilica, he and Miriam were suddenly awash in a new wave of people – a group of masked monks who surrounded them and, covertly yet forcibly, moved my friends towards the Patio of Saint Gregory the Illuminator.

“The 4 Monks” by Rinaldi

“What’s going on?” Alan asked the clergymen holding his arms.

“Resistance is futile.” One of the priests replied stoically, as he and his rank continued to maneuver their captives into an elevator.

“But we’ve already seen The Dome.” Miriam protested, still playing the part of tourist.

“Don’t worry, madam,” the same priest spoke again, “you’re not going Up.”

And with that, he inserted a key into the elevator panel and and caused the lift to go in a direction the public never went – Down.

“Oh joy,” Alan quipped, “yet another secret locale. I’ve had about enough of all this covert maneuvering for one day.”

None of the monks replied to that comment, but soon enough the ride was over and the priests forced their prey out into a dim corridor.

“Kneel!” The lead monk barked. “Kneel before The Hand of God!”

(Ah, that’s a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?)

From out of nowhere a menacing figure emerged – his presence oozing of an ancient <power>.

He was a mass of black robes – layers of heavy fabric obscuring his true form; and curiously enough, his face was hidden by a venetian mask – a full-face Carne Ricci, with golden highlights around the curved mouth, raised eyebrows, black fabric folds pluming out in all directions above the mask’s forehead, and pearls to outline the trim work. (Like all other face masks, it was more for show than for protection against any virus, but at least the Carne Ricci didn’t claim to be anything other than it actually was).

The person wearing the mask was none other than Cardinalate Giovanni Marrollo – the new Confuto Penitentiary of The Vatican

(Oh no, not this crazy mite again).

The cascade of robes that graced the macabre figure made it seem as if he were gliding over the walkway towards Alan and Miriam, and he didn’t stop his approach until he was nearly on top of them.

I saw suddenly Miriam blanch white and guessed that she had just tried using her Psychic Probe but was repelled – clearly not a good omen.

“Don’t look up to your superior, dog!” Their clergyman captor yelled, while his cohorts forced Alan and Miriam to bow their heads.

At last, the mystery man spoke, “I believe you have something that belongs to me?” And he held out his hand to Miriam.

Miriam kept her head down. “I don’t know what you’re talk—“

<SMACK!> One of the monks struck Alan with a vicious slap, knocking off his mask and sending him to the ground in a heap. Before Alan could yelp out in pain, his attacker laid into him with multiple kicks to the midsection while the other monks struggled to hold him open to more blows – and all the while Marrollo looked upon the scene in stoic silence.

“STOP!” Miriam screamed. “STOP!!” She shook an arm free in order to reach into her pocket and pull out the Doomsday Missive.

“Ah, good.” The mystery man said as he accepted the scroll Miriam held out to him. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you twice. That would not have turned out well for your friend here.”

For his part, Alan was trying hard to catch his breath as he struggled to put back on his mask. The side of his face was torn, his ear on that side was puffy and red, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his ribs was broken from those vicious kicks. Nonetheless, it was the look of dejection on his face that caught me most – disappointed to see that Miriam had just given up the object they had worked so hard to retrieve.

Meanwhile Marrollo cast but a glance at the scroll, and quickly pulled it into the overhanging sleeve of his right arm. “Well and good. Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” Miriam asked, as the guards forced them up.

<SMASH!> At a signal from the robed man, one of the monks pummeled Alan with a right cross to the jaw – buckling the professor’s knees and throwing his mask askew again.

Marrollo turned back to address Miriam, “I’d prefer that you not speak unless spoken to. But, since I was of a mind to tell you the answer to that question anyway, I’ll respond – after all, there is only one thing to do with you…” And he let the thought hang invitingly.

Luckily for Alan’s sake, Miriam didn’t take the bait and after it became obvious that she was not going to speak up – and thus give the monks a chance to further abuse Alan.

At last the cardinal snickered, “I see that you learn quickly. In any event, you’ve been caught stealing priceless artifacts and the penalty for that offense is death.” And here he paused again, as if he had something distasteful in his mouth, before he continued with a sigh. “Nonetheless, only the Pope can deliver the verdict. And unfortunately it won’t be my puppet Francis; instead you’ll be taken to Benedict immediately so he can pronounce your fate.” Then in a more chipper tone, “After that, you’ll be given back to Friar James and his crew. They will oversee your… execution.”

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37 – It’s Not You, It’s Me
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.35 The Sacra Crypta

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Book II: Chapter 35
July 15

The Sight continued for me as I saw that the small room that Alan and Miriam had emerged into.

By the look on Alan’s unmasked face I could tell that it wasn’t exactly what he had expected to find. (And I had to agree with him).

“It looks like an olde world safe deposit box room.” Alan was confused. “This is the sacred crypt of La Papessa?

“Well, your description is not far from the truth.” Miriam replied still wearing that damned Nano Mask.

The walls of the room were filled with a multitude of small openings, each covered with a now-corroded iron door – these were the safe deposit boxes Alan had referred to — and nearly every inch seemed to have such a box built in.

“Hmm. Although this was a nice touch,” Alan joked, “it’s well known that during medieval times locksmithing technology was not all that secure. I can’t imagine this would do much to keep out a determined thief.”

“Take a closer look.” Miriam flashed the light over a block of the boxes. “As you can see, each door has multiple locking systems – to include a spring loaded bolt, interlocking wards on the case, and a padlock. Also notice that each door has no less than seven key-holes – this is significant, because for each box only one keyhole provides access to the interior – choose any of the incorrect key holes, and the final security measure is triggered.”

“What’s that?”

“A small capsule is stored within each of the incorrect keyholes. If their wards are moved, the capsule will be punctured – causing trace amounts of sulfur, naphtha, and quicklime to be released inside the box.”

“Wait,” Alan interrupted. “That combination of chemicals is known as Greek Fire and it’s highly combustible!  I recall John telling me how he helped the Byzantines perfect its use in the 7th century to help defend Constantinople from attacking Arabs.”

Alan’s little history lesson is true – WE smoked those Arab attackers!

Pondering further, Alan added, “Miriam, do you realize that if a liquid fire like that was released into such a small space it would burn indefinitely, becoming so pressurized, that if and when the doorway ever was opened, the Greek Fire would explode outwards, scorching the intruder!”

(Wow, I’m pretty impressed).

“The consequence of an errant deed.” Miriam confirmed, unmoved.

“But what about the treasures inside? They would be burned up too.”

“Only one box actually has anything inside — the one containing my letter from La Papessa.” And here she moved over towards the left hand wall and placed her hand on the door to one of the boxes. “As you can see, this door is still intact, thus my letter is safe.”

“But, what if an intruder had pried at the locks on your box and failed?” Alan was still incredulous at the security system that Miriam and Pope Joan had devised. “Your letter would be gone.”

“That would have been just as well. After all, I know what it says. Remember, we are here to ensure that no one else does.” And before Alan could remark again, she continued. “Time is running short. The Sacra Crypta we stand in now is located exactly under where the old altar of Saint Stephen’s used to be. It is now time for us to retrieve that which La Papessa locked inside.” And she reached into her blouse and pulled out a chain, revealing a small key – one that she then used to unlock the padlock.

<Click!> the device opened.

Miriam then proceeded to turn the dials necessary to unlock the various tumblers that released multiple bolts in turn. Finally she used the same key that opened the padlock and plunged it into one of the seven keyholes – the third from the left. Miriam turned the key a full rotation, only to cause the tumblers to fall in line with a <HIIIiiiisssss…>

At the sound, Alan pulled Miriam backwards, “Greek Fire!”

Yet Miriam shrugged him off, “Don’t worry. My efforts were correct, that was just a small bit of air trapped inside.” With full confidence, she proceeded to open the portal. “This box has been locked for centuries… until today.”

Alan watched as Miriam reached inside the box and pulled out a small scroll – although it was tiny and non-descript, he did not make the mistake of underestimating its importance, “The Doomsday Missive. Can I finally see it?”

“There’s no time.” Miriam stuffed the scroll into her blouse and began looking all around the room, as if expecting something to happen.

“What do you mean no time?” Alan queried.

Just then, the floor began to <Rumble>.

“Get ready!” Miriam called out above the increasing din.

And as soon as she said it, the floor tilted down, giving way beneath them and sending them falling into the darkness below!

“YAWWW!” Alan screamed as the floor of the Sacra Crytpa gave way, causing he and Miriam to land with a <THUD> in the pitch black below.

“Some ride!” Miriam called out. “Are you alright, Alan?”

“Sure. But some advance warning would have been nice. Miriam, I can’t see a thing. How do we get out of this mess?”

“Easy.” Miriam flicked on her lighter again. “Just go up those stairs.”

Now that I could see too, it appeared my friends were in a rough hewn cavern; the location where they dropped from above was once more closed off and there was apparently no other way to go, except up the stairs Miriam just illuminated (how convenient, eh?)

And so, with Miriam leading the way, the pair trudged upwards. After a short while they reached a small landing – yet this too appeared to end in a blank wall.

“So where does this secret doorway take us?” Alan joked.

“I think you’ll be amused at this one.” Miriam reached high on the right wall and pushed in the release mechanism for this portal.

“Wait a second.” Alan hissed as the door opened. “This is the hidden cove behind the wooden stall in the Chapel of the Choir! But, Miriam, why in the world did we go through that escapade to get to the Sacra Crypta if we could have just walked down a flight of stairs? What are you trying to do to me? If I didn—“

“Alan, dear, what good would it have done to go down these stairs? How would you have gotten into the Sacra Crypta? The trap door ceiling can only be released from inside the Sacra Crypta.”

“So, you’re telling me that had we, or anyone, gone down this stairwell from the Chapel of the Choir it would have been to no avail?”

“The only thing you would have discovered would have been that empty chamber below. There is no way to get into the Sacra Crypta — except by that which we traversed.”

“I see.” Alan said through pursed lips, perhaps not yet ready to let Miriam off the hook for the ordeal he just went through. “Well, what now?”

“First let’s don our disguises.” Miriam began putting on her tourist clothes once more. “Then, we wait till the basilica officially opens again.”

Unfortunately for me, my vision did not allow me to skip ahead this time – instead I had to keep a vigil with them.

Time passed by slowly (for all of us) as they waited in that cramped room.

It’s at times like this that I lament not being able to enjoy a good stiff drink while watching these visions. Quite frankly I never understood why He didn’t allow me this little concession – what harm could it have caused? Hell, had I been able to drink a few brews I’d have been much more willing to endure these revelations over the millennia.

But does He ever think of me?

Of my happiness?

Obviously not!

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36 – Friar Tuck and his Band of UNMerry Men
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.34 Tight Spaces

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Book II: Chapter 34
July 15

Now it was finally getting interesting!

In my vision I’d been watching Alan and Miriam make their way through the secret catacombs beneath St. Peter’s Basilica – and so far it was kind of a boring vision. However after watching Alan fail to make a clean jump across the chasm things suddenly got a lot more exciting!

Unfortunately for me, the suspense did not last.

Rather than fall backwards into the pit, Alan somehow managed to throw himself forward – he then careened down into Miriam and sent them both rolling in a pile down the remaining steps.

“Ouch!” Miriam tried to catch her breath as they came to a stop on the damp stones at the bottom of the steps.

“Sorry,” Alan rolled off of Miriam, removing his masks as he gasped for breath. Then looking back at the chasm he asked. “How are we going to get back out? There’s no way we can make that leap back UP those missing steps – if any steps are still there.”

“No time for that. We’ve got to keep moving.” Miriam got up and raced ahead, following the only path available – a sharp curve to the left.

This cave was level – yet even more slippery than before because of a slimy mildew that clung to the rocks. Eventually they came to yet another triple fork. Miriam again chose to go left, yet the cobwebs filling this doorway were so thick she actually had to use her flame to burn them away.

Nonetheless, when they entered the next cavern, not only were the walls narrow, but worse yet the ceiling grade sloped in upon them and after just a few paces, Alan was forced to bend down further and further until eventually he was crawling, “Are we almost there?”

The masked Miriam didn’t reply, but instead pressed ahead.

Crawling on hands and knees, at last she wriggled her way through a tiny opening and then called back, “Don’t worry, I can stand up – this room is larger. Come on.”

Yet when she flashed the light back to give Alan a view, he panicked upon seeing that the opening was the size of a watermelon.

“I can’t do it!” Alan began to hyperventilate even without his mask on. “I’ll get stuck.”

“You CAN do it. Just stick your right arm and head through first, then I will pull you the rest of the way.”

Alan hesitated. For nearly a candlemark he refused to move, regardless of Miriam’s encouragements.

At last Miriam reached her limits and not even trying to mask her frustration she growled, “Would you rather just stay where you are and have me go on without you?”

That’s all it took to get Alan to move. Closing his eyes, he began squeezing into the hole before him…

Only to get himself stuck!

Alan wriggled.

He writhed.

He huffed and puffed, and all the while the rocks tore into his clothes and scratched at the flesh beneath.

Yet no matter what, he couldn’t get through. “ARRRGH! I’m going to die here.”

“Hush, you’re not going to die.” Miriam tried to calm Alan as he remained stuck in the cave. “You can’t die. Remember?”

“But that’s even worse!” Alan whined. “I’ll be stuck here forever.”  

“Sshh. Just give me a moment to think.” After a pause, Miriam joked, “Well, look on the bright side, after a couple months, you’ll lose a few pounds and maybe you can squeak through then.”

“Not funny. Just get me out.”

Miriam stood for a moment more, and then came up with an idea. “Close your eyes.” Then after taking a deep breath, she kicked hard three times against the edge of the portal under Alan’s arm which was sticking through on her side – the rock cracked! After a more kicks, large chunks fell away – making the opening wide enough for Alan to push his way through.

“Thank you, Jesus!” Alan gasped, trying to regain his senses.

He and Miriam were now in another antechamber – and although it was only about five feet by six feet, and Alan still had to stoop a bit, this place must have seemed like a coliseum compared to the suffocating corridor he just came from.

“Don’t worry.” Miriam advised. “The rest of the way should be no problem. Er, assuming that nothing else has changed.”

“Hrmpf.” Alan clenched his teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Miriam took the only way available – a sharp turn to the right – followed this a short way, but then suddenly she stopped.

“What’s the matter?” Alan asked.

Miriam held up the light before her – revealing a blank wall.

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alan asked anxiously, surely feeling the weight of the earth above him and dreading a return back towards that tiny hole. Yet before the phobia took further hold of him, Miriam bent forward and pushed at the lower right corner of the wall, causing the stones to grate apart.

“Ah good, another wall that moves.” Alan remarked casually — no longer surprised to see that Miriam had found yet another secret cavern.

“This is it – The Sacra Crypta.” Miriam rejoiced. “We found it –  praise God!”

(Well, this should be interesting – even I don’t know what to expect now…)

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35 – The Sacra Crypta
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist, Mary Magdalene

2.32 Two Roads Diverged

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Book II: Chapter 32
July 14

God has set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom it.

I was sitting on my back porch, wasting another day. Off in the distance I spied a raccoon nosing around the area that covered the body of my intruder from a month ago. It set me to thinking…

What is Man? He is nothing but an animal – for his fate is the same – all come from the dust and to the dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man goes upward and if the spirit of animal down to the earth? It’s all meaningless!

Eccl 3: 19-21

I took another sip of my version of Stone Pale Ale and got ready to ponder further, when suddenly a new vision was forced upon me — a view of my friends as they continued on with their pointless escapade…

Alan and Miriam were now sitting at a corner table outside a small cafe in Rome. Like the other diners, my friends were masked and gloved and all the tables were socially distant – as always this was claimed to be for protection against the virus, but was in reality just another population control method to keep the people separated so they couldn’t ‘conspire’ against their NWO overlords. Waiters (read: guards) constantly checked on guests (read: patrolled) to ensure the diners wear wearing their specialized Meal Masks correctly.

(You’ll recall that Meal Masks were an invention that came out around 2022 that allowed diners to wear a specially fitted mask that had a small opening around the mouth. That opening could be used to insert a paper straw into for drinking liquids or it could be configured so that it sensed when food was near the face and thus briefly opened to allow the diner to insert a small amount into their mouth. When used in the latter manner, the masks included a timer that only allowed the diner to insert food no more than once per minute to ensure the diner wasn’t contaminating the air with too much of their own breath. All of this was beyond absurd in my opinion, since like everything else with the Covid plandemic, there wasn’t any science to support Meal Masks doing anything to prevent the spread of the virus, but since Dr. Flipflop and the WHO recommended Meal Masks they’d long since become a fixture at public restaurants. Meanwhile, on a more positive note, one of the unanticipated side effects of Meal Masks is that, by limiting people’s time to eat, they became a fantastic method for portion control and in turn weight loss. You’ll probably remember the Meal Mask Diets that were all the rage a few years back – when it seemed like every celebrity was peddling some version of their own glammed up Meal Mask that they sold for a massive upcharge – causing more than a few fools to spend their entire monthly UBI’s on so they could show off to their friends).

“Why didn’t you tell me you about Purgatory?” Alan was chagrined as he left his espresso untouched on the table.

“Alan, it was not my place to tell YOU about your own secrets.” Miriam soothed, knowing that he was both embarrassed and pained.

(Lord, do I really have to sit here and watch this lover’s quarrel?)

“But, Miriam, what a fool I have been in front of you all these years!”

“Hush; don’t say such things.”

“So Jesus told you about me?”

“Yes. In the same way that The Teacher told you about my mission.”

“Of course — for surely if Jesus was willing to tell me about your purposes, why did I not realize he would explain to you about me? Oh, how bloody stupid I’ve been!”

“Alan, stop. What’s done is done. I knew eventually you would come clean with me before our time was through.”

“And yet… would it… have been different between us?”

Miriam fiddled with her mask and whispered, “Oh, Alan, who can say? We can’t change the past.”

(Now ain’t a classic woman’s answer? Ha!)

Alan sank into his chair, “I suppose there’s always a consequence for the choices we make.” But then, raising his head, chin jutting out, he averred, “Miriam, I’m going to believe that, had I honored you by telling you the truth immediately, then events would have turned out more like Jesus promised me – if I had only trusted in him completely, rather than trying to figure everything out according to my own designs.”

Miriam reached her gloved hand across the table to grasp Alan’s hand, “Thank you, Lazarus.”

“But, what about the future? What happens now, Mary?” Alan’s eyes was hopeful.

(Sorry, buddy, it’s not happening…)

Looking down, Miriam pulled her hand away, “Alan, right now we have a mission to complete.”

And after a pause, she whispered, “I’m sorry, but there is no time for a love that might have been.”

(Ouch!)

I watched as Alan did his best to swallow a (re)broken heart. In a stony voice he replied, “Alas, Miriam. You speak the truth. Even Solomon echoed your words, ‘No man can control the evil times that fall unexpectedly upon him.’ Such is the case with us too, neh?” And rising from the cafe table, “Well, we best be moving forward again. Ready?”

“Ready.” Miriam nodded, keeping her head down as she arose so that Alan would not see her tears.  

There was a brief haziness to my Sight, but soon enough it returned.

Apparently some time had passed, because when I saw Alan and Miriam again they were disguised as tourists – complete with obtrusive cameras, dollar-store sunglasses, and an armful of sightseeing brochures. Naturally they also had on their Covid QR Cards hanging around their necks so that the omnipresent patrols could scan them to verify their Vax Status. And of course they were masked and gloved like all the other visitors to The Vatican.

My friends looked to be part of socially distant tourist group on a tour of Saint Peter’s Basilica. It was amusing to see them pretending to listen to the masked clergyman giving the tour as he told all about the history of the grand structure – pointing out the architectural contributions of grand masters like Bramante, Michelangelo, and Bernini; explaining how the church could seat upwards of 60,000 people for a mass; and even giving interesting tidbits of knowledge about some of the unique furnishings inside the cathedral.

I could tell that Alan was rather enjoying the tour. Oh, probably not because the information provided was new to him – for in truth, Alan knew far more about this place than the young priest who was their guide – but instead because the subject of Religious Antiquities was his passion. I’m sure that such a discussion allowed his mind to escape some of the recent pains that had been reopened regarding Miriam.

Unable to resist, Alan ventured a question – modifying his voice in a Hungarian accent, “My friend, I noticed that you didn’t mention the old church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi?”

Miriam’s looked in surprise at Alan’s unexpected query, yet her Nano Mask effectively hid her facial expression from others.

Meanwhile, the tour guide hesitated only a moment before advising, “Oh, scusi me please, I didn’t realize you were Hungarian. How could I forget to mention your country’s national church? Certainly, my friend, Santo Stefano once stood over here.” And he led the group to a different area of Saint Peter’s. “In 1776, Santo Stefano was torn down in order to make this section of the Grand Basilica. My apologies, friend, but surely you’ll agree the space was put to good use, eh?”

“Of course. Grazie.” Alan replied.

“Shall we move outside to the Piazza?” The guide asked the group.

As it turned out, Alan and Miriam never did go outside with the rest of the tour; instead they loitered inside Saint Peter’s, using the mandated social distancing requirements to get lost in the shuffle and eventually making their way into a cordoned off section known as the Chapel of the Choir.

Once inside, Miriam shuffled Alan into one of three wooden stalls.

“We can’t hide here,” Alan protested as he removed his mask to get some fresh air. “Surely the guards will check these stalls before closing.”

Miriam kept her mask on, but pulled a hidden lever under a section of molding that opened a secret inner chamber and then proceeded to pull her startled friend into it.  

(Oh, you didn’t know about that hide-away? No matter. But surely you DO realize that The Vatican is filled with hidden labyrinths, right? Why there are probably more secret meeting places there than anywhere else in the world).

Ensconced in their hiding place, Alan and Miriam were able to remain on site long after the church closed. Although my Sight thankfully did not force me to endure the monotony of waiting in real-time, I was amused to catch one tidbit of their conversation – Alan coaxing Miriam to tell him the history of this secret chamber, clearly unable to believe that there was yet another piece of religious history that he was not aware of.

(It wasn’t the last time he was due to get such a surprise).

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33 – The Secret of the Lie
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist, Mary Magdalene

2.29 Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

1 Comment

Book II: Chapter 29
July 13

The good news is that my friends finally went away.

The bad news it that I did not get to work in peace as I’d hoped because the very next day I had another vision forced upon me – ironically it was about Alan and Miriam (gee whiz, how do I get rid of these guys?)

“Why did we bother to come through JFK?” Miriam complained, fiddling with her face mask.

“Hopefully the delay won’t be much longer.” Alan soothed, he too donning a face mask as per the requirements for air travel that had been mandated since back in 2020. “Meanwhile, let’s take this time to plan our next moves.”

Despite the delay in the plane’s arrival, my friends had been able to book the flight quickly because their Freedom Passes and social credits were still flagged as Platinum status – this was based on the fact that both of them had received every round of their semi-annual Covid top-off vaccines since 2021, had no record of any crimes, had no record of social media hate speech, were both on record as bleeding heart liberals, had taken all their White Privilege re-education programs, and had never missed a daily virus test on their phone (that last was a tally I’d ‘corrected’ during their visit to me in order to account for the time they missed while Miriam was rescuing Alan – it was a task I happily undertook because it fit with my plans to get rid of them!)

“Oh, Alan, always the analytical mind.” Miriam replied. But then, as if realizing her possible faux pas, she added, “Er. I didn’t mean that in a mental telepathy sort of way.” And seeing her friend’s face redden around his mask, she stammered, “Alan, please know that I did NOT go through your private thoughts. I never have in the past and I never plan to. You mus–”

(Don’t believe her, Alan).

“Hush. I trust you, Miriam. But let’s just make a pact so we can save ourselves further embarrassment – no more telepathy, mental probes, or other mental tricks.”

(Amen to that!)

Miriam nodded, “If I have anything to say, I’ll say it out loud.”

“Amen!”

(Copy cat).

“Alan,” Miriam’s grew thoughtful. “How long has it been since we’ve last talked? I mean really talked.”

(Oh no, when a woman says she wants to talk that’s never good).

Alan thought for a moment, “The last time we were together — before you rescued me from Ma’bus — was in 1945 – April 30th to be exact.”

“The day Hitler shot himself – alas another Antichrist theory which didn’t pan out.”  

“And yet, I wonder…” Alan mused. ”Unlike most, we saw Hitler’s remains – at least what his people claimed was his remains – which, as you’ll recall we had certain unanswered questions about at the time. Nevertheless, even though we determined that Hitler was not in fact our Antichrist before he died, we still worked hard to drive him out of his mind in order to rid of the world of his evil.”

“I’d say so.” Miriam interjected. “After all, even though the world never knew, it was you, John, and myself who succeeded in pushing Der Fuhrer down the suicide path.”

(I realize this probably all news to you, but actually it’s quite true).  

“Ah, but don’t forget — Hitler shot himself two days before we thought he would.”

“So?”

“Let’s not forget – none of us actually saw him take the shot. And while we did see his charred corpse, I told you back then I wasn’t comfortable with they way everything played out.”

“But nothing more happened. We all agreed the Hitler File was closed.”

(Actually I agreed with Alan at the time — I wasn’t 100% sure Hitler was really dead, but I didn’t feel like fighting Miriam, so I didn’t say anything).

“What if we were wrong?” Alan mused.

“What do you mean?”

“What if Hitler never did kill himself?” Alan whispered. Then leaning in closer he said even softer, “Miriam, is it possible Hitler actually stayed alive and has now re-emerged as… Dr. Ma’bus?!?”

The color drained from Miriam’s face, yet before she could respond, Alan pressed ahead, “Let me take it a step further. Miriam, in the course of the last few decades, I have been postulating a new theory — in the past, whenever we’ve been presented with a potential Antichrist emerging, how did we evaluate that candidate to determine if they were truly The Beast?”

“I’m not sure I understand — why are we talking about men whom History has proven NOT to be antichrists?”

“Has it? Think about the men we were once CONVINCED were The Beast: Nero, Attila, Arnulf, Weishaupt, and Hitler. I want you to—“

Nero
Attila
Arnulf
Weishaupt
Hitler

“You forgot Martin Luther.” Miriam interjected.

“Actually, I left him out on purpose. There is no question that we were wrong about him and luckily John caught our error in time.”

(Well, at least someone gives me some credit around here. Thank you, Alan).

“Agreed.” Miriam consented as much, but her face told a different story regarding her true feelings Martin Luther. However rather than argue the point, she encouraged Alan to continue, “OK, so what?”

“Miriam, what if ALL of them really were The Beast?”

“How could that be? They all died – and stopped causing problems.”

“And yet, in every case there is a nuance that left me unsure. Consider Nero’s death – a supposed suicide in which he drove a dagger into his own throat – albeit with the aid of his personal secretary Epaphroditus. And yet Epaphroditus then conveniently disappeared from history?”

“Even still, Nero’s death seemed pretty convincing.”

“Death of Nero” by V. S. Smirnov

“Was it? Or did Nero switch with his aide and disappear himself?”

“But, why? For what purpose?”  

(Duh? Miriam, are you so obtuse?)

“Let’s table that and examine the other candidates. Next there was Attila — his demise is still controversial: was it internal bleeding caused by years of heavy drinking or did he die at the hands of his wife Gudrun?”

“What does it matter? Either way, he DID die.” Miriam rebutted. ”And did you forget that Attila was buried in a triple coffin made of gold, inside of silver, inside of iron – all to keep him locked inside?”

“And supposedly his army then diverted a section of the river Tisza over his grave site – yet all those men were later killed by Attila’s son Ellac in order to keep the exact location of the grave site a secret.”

(Hmm. I’m starting to see where Alan’s heading. What about YOU?)

“Attention passengers of Lufthansa Flight 1501 to Rome,” came a voice over the Terminal speakers, “Please proceed to Gate A31…”

“Hey, they changed our gate!” Miriam arose and began to hastily gather her belongings. “That’s at the other end of the terminal!”

“Moving on,” Alan trotted after Miriam, continuing his discourse between breaths as they waded through the crowd. “Arnulf’s death – still a mystery. Same goes for Weishaupt. And we already discussed Hitler.”

“Ugh, Alan, just spit it out — what are you trying to say?”

As they stepped onto moving walkway, Alan whispered urgently into her ear. “Just this, Miriam — what if all of those evil men really were the SAME man?  What if we did correctly identify the Beast each time, but due to our actions or just some unexpected turns of History, Satan chose to delay his rise?”

Miriam suddenly stopped in her tracks – causing a backlog on the tight walkway behind Alan.

“Sorry, friends,” Alan turned to apologize to the many passengers behind him who were now complaining at the stoppage, before quickly urging Miriam ahead towards the end of the moving walkway.

Once they got off, Miriam pulled Alan aside, “My God, Alan, what if the spirit of Satan’s son possessed the bodies of those men and merely used each as a vessel?”

(ARG! Do you see what she’s doing? As always, Miriam can’t accept someone else’s idea, so she has to change it to make it hers. Just like a woman – never satisfied until they have their own way!)

“Hmmm… that I can’t answer,” Alan replied, “But one thing is sure. Lucifer is a master manipulator – for something as important as the rise to power of his son — and his own subsequent release from the prison of Hell — surely, if he felt for even a moment that everything wasn’t going exactly as planned, he would pull the plug and start over later, right?”

“Indeed. For Gabriel always said that once The Antichrist attempts The Armageddon Rite, he will have one chance at it – just ONE. That was the agreement Satan worked out with God. Although why The Lord would allow Himself to be bound by such a possib–”

“Attention passengers of Lufthansa Flight 1501 to Rome,” came the airport voice again. “All passengers should be at Gate A31 ready to board.”

“Oh, let’s hurry, Alan. We can talk more on the way to Rome!”

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30 – Dead Man Walking
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.28 The Bible Code

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Book II: Chapter 28
July 12

Miriam bowed her head, while Alan sputtered – still unable to accept the possibility there might be a secret vault beneath St. Peter’s Basilica that he knew nothing about, “I don’t believe it!”

“It’s true.” Miriam agreed. “La Papessa had the vault built specifically to house my letter. The construction was completed by a craftsman who was in the employ of the Bishop of Hostia – her son. As it turns out that contractor was an illiterate mute – making him an ideal choice for such a covert job. As far as I know, outside of the craftsman, Pope Joanna, and her son, the only other person that knew about the vault was me.”

“Does anyone have access to that depository now?” Alan asked.

“Three people.” Miriam advised. “The current pope –for among the many articles that come with the Papal Throne, a cryptic message about La Papessa’s vault was included in Pope Francis’ personal artifact collection. However, if we surmise that only those popes who have contacted me about it have actually read the letter, then the number of popes who knew about the vault has been very small indeed.”

“How many?” Alan asked.

“None.” Miriam smiled winsomely, before explaining further, “I doubt that any of the popes have ever looked at La Papessa’s message or spent any time trying to decipher its Bible Code. After all, didn’t we just say that Joanna’s reign was discredited? Thus which pope in his right mind would want to be caught meddling with her affairs? Certainly not the millennial-appeasing Francis. Ah, don’t you see the beautiful tapestry of God’s work — even though Pope Joan suffered, it was not for nothing – for she protected this knowledge from prying eyes, even until this very day!”

“I’d like to believe that, but we can’t be sure.” Alan surmised. “Yet you spoke of THREE people — who are the other two?”

“I believe one could be the Confuto Penitentiary.”  Miriam speculated. “He is the keeper of the most secret items of the Papal Artifacts collection.”

(Dammit, she’s on to something. And when Miriam gets a whiff, she’s like a bloodhound that won’t stop).

“You mean the Major Penitentiary.” Alan corrected.

“No. I mean what I said. The Confuto – Supreme – Penitentiary.”

“I love seeing you two argue.” I interrupted, taking another swig of my drink, having now lost count of how many of my Modelo’s I’d swilled in the last hour. (They sure do go down easy when you’re having fun). “You sound just like an old married couple.”  

Both Alan and Miriam blushed red at that comment, and Alan stuttered, “Miriam, there hasn’t been a Confuto Penitentiary for over two centuries.”

(Ah, but there will be soon, buddy – and I couldn’t help thinking about the mysterious Cardinalate Marrollo’s recent request to Benedict – could Marrollo know about The Sacra Crypta and the secrets it housed?)

“No Confuto in office is a good thing!” Miriam advised. “For that’s one less person we have to worry about. But that still leaves one man left who is all the more important to us. He’s never contacted me about the letter but he still worries me.”

“Benedict.” Alan filled in the blank.

“Benedict.” Miriam agreed.

“We must see him.”  

“We must know which side he is really on.”

“Well, that settles it then. We three shall go to Benedict.”

“Good thing we have our Covid Freedom Passes. When do we leave?”

“I guess that’s up to John.” Alan looked over at me in anticipation.

I took another long pull on my beer, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and then leaned back in my chair to make it a recliner, “You two are welcome to get on up out of here whenever you like. And the sooner the better. But as for me, you know I never took the Covid jab so I ain’t got to Vax Pass – and I ain’t about to get one. Naw, I’m just fine where I am.”

“John, how can you say that?” Miriam asked. “Are you concerned about the vaccine’s side effects? But I don’t understand, yes the vaccine is super dangerous, but know they can’t here you.”

I didn’t reply.

“This isn’t about the vaccine or it’s horrible side effects on humanity, Miriam.” Alan surmised. “John probably has more Freedom Passes than we do – albeit homemade ones I’m sure. The fact is that he knows we all must go together.

Still I was steadfast in my silence.

“Bates already has my Nail.” Alan reminded. “Yours and Miriam’s are the weapons we need to defeat him. We can’t afford to let him get them too. If he does, he’ll be able to perform The Armageddon Rite!”

Another taste of my drink, and I licked my lips, “Ah, that’s good. Mr. Modelo sure does brew a good beer, don’t he?”

“Jesus needs you.” Miriam ignored by charades. “I know you are still hurting, but The Lord will restore you again, John — and you will praise Him for it. Don’t you care anymore?”

At that, I jumped out of my chair, sending beer cans flying, “HE doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?” Hobbling over to my bookcase, I pulled out the chest that held my Nail, and threw it at them. “If you want that damn thing so bad, you can have it. Go! Do whatever you two want to. Go to Benedict – see how far that gets you. Visit Bates, if you like. I don’t care; just leave me alone to die!”

And with that, I forced Alan and Miriam out of my house – tossing Miriam’s PPE out with them and then slamming the door shut.

Miriam tried banging on the door to get back in, “Refrain from anger and turn from wrath, John — it leads only to evil.”

“Shut up, Mary!” I screamed at her through the door. “When will you understand — that which is twisted cannot be straightened, that which is lacking, cannot be counted.  I am no more than a man forgotten and I just want to be left alone!”

And so they left – off again to pursue their great Commission.

As for me, I was alone at last.

Finally I was ready get to back to work — for The Opus Magnum beckoned. And this time I vowed to continue that rite until the very end… and hopefully die trying!

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29 – Leavin’ on a Jet Plane
Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist, Mary Magdalene, St John the Apostle

2.27 A Rose by Any Other Name

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Book II: Chapter 27
July 12

My last jibe did not disappoint – and with both Alan and Miriam wfhite-faced, I went for the kill, “Lighten up, people. I know we can’t switch sides. But if Michael wants to do his thing – fine. And if you two want to stop Bates or Ma’bus or whoever he is – also fine. Just leave me out of it.” Then I clicked on the TV – hoping they would finally get the hint.

Miriam walked over, rudely snatched the remote (yes, the remote that I had just recently learned how to use!), and then turned the TV back off. “Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path, John! You’re not listening.”

“WHAT?” I roared. “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO KNOW?”

“Don’t you see — Michael’s offensive is a SECRET attack! I wrote about this in my letter to La Papessa. In the end, after consulting the scriptures, she marked my letter signum eternus and locked it within the most secret of the Vatican’s vaults – where it been ever since.”

“The Biblioteca Apostolica?” Alan asked. When Miriam shook her head, he wondered, “Then your letter must be in The Archives of the Apos––?”

The Vatican Archives

“Alan,” Miriam interrupted. “It’s not in any location under the control of The Apostolic Penitentiary.”

“Then what other secret vault could you be referring to?”

“I’m referring to the… the… Sacra Crypta.” Miriam whispered.

The Sacra Crypta

(Bingo! That’s what I was trying to remember when Joseph was considering Cardinal Marrollo for Confuto Penitentiary – a post that would give him access to the Sacra Crypta. Damn, it’s all starting to make sense now).

Alan’s eyes narrowed, “My dear Miriam, remember who you’re talking to – you don’t seriously expect me to believe that such a warehouse has remained outside of MY knowledge for lo these many centuries?”

“I’m not sure what to say, Alan, but The Sacra Crypta does indeed exist.”

“Then where is it located?” Alan snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“Beneath the church of Santo Stefano degli Ungheresi.”

“Impossible. That church was pulled down in 1776.”

“True. But what else do you know about it?”

“Santo Stefano was established by Charlemagne in the 9th century.” Alan recalled. “And I was in attendance when Pope Sylvester II later granted it to King Stephen I of Hungary back around 1000. In fact, that church was a key diplomatic link between Hungary and the Vatican for centuries.”

“OK. OK.” I tried to move the story along. “What happened next, Professor?”

“Hmm.” Alan tried to remember. “I moved away from Rome again around 1100, and by then the church fell into some disrepair. In 1776 Pope Pius VI pulled down Santo Stefano and built a new sacristy for St. Peter’s.”

“If you loved it so much, why didn’t you stop this?” I teased.

“John, as you might recall, we three were tied up dealing with Weishaupt at the time. Regardless, Saint Stephen’s church was torn down – so now all that remains are its Roman columns – which I convinced Pius, by letter, to place in the new sacristy of the St. Peter’s.”

“Alan, you’re correct on all of that.” Miriam agreed. “I know how much you loved that chapel. However, you overlooked one thing.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Alan asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“There was a secret cellar under Santo Stefano.”

“What?!? That’s impossible.” Alan was offended. “Why, I’ve been there a thousand times, how could I never have known about it? There wasn’t any such feature in the original construction.”

“She said it was a secret.” I laughed.

Alan’s look at me was pure ice, yet it was Miriam who spoke again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Who built this vault? Who kept you from telling us?”

“The answer to that question is one and the same.” Miriam began.

But it was I who filled in the blank, “Don’t tell me — Pope Joan?”

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28 – The Bible Code
Book II Table of Contents
Antichrist, Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.25 The Many Faced Man

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Book II: Chapter 25
July 12

“But how could Benedict hold our Nails in his hands without being destroyed?” Alan pondered at my unexpected revelation about the Pope.

“And without dying?” Miriam was still in shock herself at my suggestion.

Another long pause followed as they tried to make sense of things. I smiled as they prattled on, enjoying my drink.

Naturally it was Miriam who rained on my parade, “For you, O Lord, are the Most High! Don’t you see, this merely confirms what I’m saying — Benedict will be filled with divine power at the appointed time, so that he CAN hold the Nails in order to destroy Bates as Dr. Ma’bus and thus enable Christ’s return!” And she smiled winsomely at the thought.

(Dammit! I hadn’t thought of it that way — she just might be right).

“Envy rots the bones.” I muttered under my breath, before replying to her, “If that’s true, Mary, then what are WE still doing here? In your theory we three are useless.”

“John.” Alan raised a hand. “You know our mission – we are to guard The Nails until the day they are needed, until The Second Coming. Nobody said our role would be in the spotlight. Isn’t it enough to know that our work will be directly responsible for aiding Christ’s return?”

<SMASH!> I threw my glass against the wall. “No, Laz-a-rus, it is not! Do you think I wanted to wait around here for two thousand years, guarding a worthless piece of iron, only to give it off to someone else at the moment of truth — so THEY can get all the glory? That’s a raw deal!”

“John, you know that’s not true.” Miriam reminded me. “YOU, more than anyone, know the value of Jesus’ love.”

“Two thousand years is a long time — I guess I plumb forgot; just like HE forgot about me.” And before anyone could reply, I continued, “Besides, who cares about all your theories, you’re probably wrong… again.”

“What do you mean?” Alan asked.

“Don’t you see?” I said wearily. “There is no many faced man, there is no antichrist!”

“How can you say that?” Miriam gasped.

“Just how often have you two been wrong about The Beast?” I jabbed back. “Oh let me count the ways. First there was Nero – but that was on me – he’s the one I wrote about in Revelation – or so I thought. So I’ll take the bullet for being wrong there.

“But it was you, Mary, who brought us Attila in the 400’s,” I hastened on. “Now Attila was a ruthless conqueror indeed, but NOT the antichrist. Which brings us to Alan’s theory about Archbishop Arnulf of Rheims in the late 900’s.”

“Well, he was a thinking man’s antichrist.” Alan offered.

“Yet again we were wrong. “ I concluded. “So after that, I stopped trying to guess, but you two plodded ahead. You listened to Charles V when he brought you Martin Luther in the early 1500’s – yet why you two couldn’t see that Charles was playing you for a fool, I’ll never know? Luckily I was able to talk some sense into you. Oh sure, Luther caused some problems for the Church, but on the whole, I think you’ll agree he’s proven to be a catalyst for change which the Church needed.”

“Touche.” Alan nodded. “And your poi—“

“And then there was Adam Weishaupt.” I cut him off. “Or should I say George Washington? Indeed, after he pulled his little identity switcheroo he had the world fooled – and us too. And while he advanced the cause of the Illuminated Ones, and laid the foundation for America to become a world harlot, he was surely NOT the Antichrist either.”

The Shocking Truth about our first President?

“How can you be so sure?” Miriam asked.

“Which brings us at last to the one person that you two really had me convinced on – Hitler.” I pressed ahead with my own designs, ignoring Miriam. “Yes, despite my pledge that I was done listening to you two after the Weishaupt Fiasco, even I couldn’t resist your arguments about Ol’ Adolf.”

“Well he DID fit the bill.” Miriam whined.

“And yet, we were wrong about him too.” Alan said. “Oh, he was indeed evil, but… as John pointed out, even Hitler was NOT the antichrist.”

“And so it goes.” I concluded. “There IS no antichrist. Jesus is not coming back. And we three will be forced to rot here in this world forever. Therefore, will you two please just let it be and leave me alone.”

It seemed that my arguments were having the desired effect on Alan, because he was at a loss for words. Yet Miriam continued to protest, “You’re wrong, John. This time is different. Bill Bates as Ghaz al’ Ridwan Ma’bus IS The Beast!”

“Mary, why are you so sure this time?” I grimaced. “Just because this Bates fellow meets all your criteria?”

“He does!” Miriam slapped fist to hand.

“But so did all the others!” I retorted, in disbelief at her doggedness. “Hell, Flipflop was just as bad so why don’t you name him the Antichrist?”

Yet Miriam just sat there — jaw jutting out, back straight, unwilling, or unable, to give up.

Knowing she wasn’t going to leave without saying her piece, my shoulders finally sagged. I felt as old as I looked, “OK, let me hear your story. If you must tell it, get it over with so I can get rid of you two and… get back to the business of trying to kill myself.”

“John!” Miriam said. “You’re blaspheming Christ’s work in you.”

“Whatever. Please, just tell your tale and then go. What makes you so sure that Bates is the Beast? Enlighten me.”

“Because The Infernal War has moved to the front lines of the underworld, and Michael himself is leading the troops in this campaign!”

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Book II Table of Contents
Book 2 Rise of the Antichrist

2.24 The Secret Supper

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Book II: Chapter 24
July 12

I successfully stopped myself from revealing my secret vision about Pope Benedict and Bill Bates to Alan and Miriam by chugging my beer and then going to the kitchen for more.

Yet before I could even sit back down in my chair, Miriam was on to me, “Do you realize that you are proposing that a Head of the Catholic Church is part and parcel to a pawn of Satan? Shame on you, John. Even if Francis is the official head, we all know Benedict is still running the show right? So how can y–”

“John, does your vehemence against Benedict have anything to do with your grudge against The Catholics?” Alan interrupted. “Are you still bitter about the fact that they tried to martyr you for leading a sect of the Cathars? Good God, man, but that was hundreds of years ago.”

“It might as well have been yesterday to me.” I replied, remembering the events of 1235 A.D – when I was sentenced to death as part of Gregory IX’s Inquisition.

(Yet I’ll have you know, his Dominican lackeys succeeded in murdering me only because I wanted them to — unfortunately, their efforts didn’t succeed).

“John, why did you ever get mixed up in that cult?” Miriam inquired. “Did you really believe what you wrote in the Gospel of the Secret Supper?”

(Wow! The Gospel of the Secret Supper – now that’s a classic! If you can find that text, give it a good read — for entertainment purposes only, of course).

“What kind of a question is that?” I exploded on Miriam. “And coming from YOU of all people, Mary? Aren’t you little Miss I’m Tolerant of Everybody’s Beliefs? And what’s with all the Covid virtue signaling – you’re a worse enabler than Zuckerberg or Dorsey!” And before she could reply, I continued, “Of course I believed the Secret Supper Gospel – hell, I believe what I wrote there more than what’s credited to me in the Christian Bible. After all, what’s so wrong about what we Cathars held to be true – namely that ‘the earth was created by Satan as a prison for souls, and that Jesus was sent by God to show us how to escape back to Heaven?’ Ha, the real problem, as you both well remember, was that my Cathars were growing in such popularity in Europe that we were replacing Catholicism! Obviously the Vatican had to do something about that – thus their creation of the Dominican order and the ruthless Inquisition.”

Pope Gregory’s Methods were not very successful

“John, let’s be reasonable,” Alan rebutted. “You didn’t give Pope Gregory much choice — you rejected all the sacraments, and you came up with two very sacrilegious rituals of your own. What did you expect?”

I wouldn’t give in, “Every group has its rank and file. The Rite of Consolamentum allowed us to advance our key members into the class of Perfecti. The Vatican didn’t really give a crap about that. It was Endura they hated.”

“Well, who would approve of encouraging people to deliberately commit suicide?” Miriam questioned. “Obviously YOU thought it was a shortcut to get yourself back to the spirit world. And obviously it didn’t work.” (She was right there). “Oh, John, why must you always pursue your own designs? Why can’t you delight yourself in the Lord, for if you do, He will give you the desires of your heart.” And then she looked at me with eyes that seemed to bore into my brain. “Is it because of the guilt for your sins? You make no effort to hide it; why you wear it as if it is a badge of courage! But why? Surely The Lord will punish you with the rod, but He will never take his love from you. Why not turn back to Him? Say to the Lord ‘I confess my transgressions to you.’ And He will reply, ‘You are forg—“

I could take it no more, “That’s enough! How can I dispute God’s judgment for me, you ask? Well, all He ever does is overwhelm me with misery! Justice? What is justice to Him who makes all the rules? Go take your—“

“OK! OK!” Alan tried to restore order. “John, regardless of what happened back then, and regardless of any guilt you are still dealing with, this is not the time for an intervention. We’re getting way off the subject at hand NOW. Do either of you have anything constructive to share about Benedict?”

I gave no reply – knowing I had already said too much. Instead I merely took a long pull on my drink – finishing it in a giant gulp. Then I let out a loud belch. After that, I got up, went into my kitchen, and grabbed what was left of a six pack of Sam Adams Summer Ale. (It’s not the best summertime brew, but it will do in a pinch and since I had the ingredients on hand I couldn’t resist making a batch a few weeks ago).

When I finally returned to the living room, I could see that Alan and Miriam were still waiting on me to respond. (Oh why does this have to be so tiring all the time? I could feel every bit of my 2,000 years of age. Thanks, Lord!)

Seeing that my ‘friends’ weren’t leaving, I realized that I was going to have to play hardball. So, taking a big swig of my drink, I said after another belch, “You know, I just realized I forget to tell you something — it seems to me there IS more to Benedict than meets the eye. As it turns out, I recently had a vision about our Pope. Now, now, don’t get all excited because I can’t remember much – after all, I’m an old man.” And although I knew they didn’t buy that excuse, I pressed on before they could comment. “In any case, in my dream, I saw Benedict holding our Nails in his hands as he approached this Ma’bus character.”

“You saw Benedict and Ga-, er, Dr. Ma’bus together?” Miriam asked.

“What was the event?” Alan inquired. “Were they friends or foes?”

“You’re both missing the point!” I stopped their questions. “It doesn’t matter why they were together. The important thing is that Benedict was holding the nails…” I reeled them in, “Don’t you listen?

“The Pope was HOLDING the nails… in his hands.”

Alan and Miriam looked at one another, astonished.

(Ah, the sweet taste of victory! Gee, this Summer Ale really IS good.)

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25 – The Many Faced Man
Book II Table of Contents