Extraordinary Retribution (39 page)

“How do I look?” She turned around, her hand immediately going to her mouth. “That bad?” he said, frowning. “Seriously, Sara, how do I
look
?”

“Like Neo in
The Matrix
. But scarier. Quite a look, Francisco, right down to the stigmata on your forehead.”

Lopez reached up instinctively to touch the scar. While the wound had healed—the blackened skin and blisters, the secondary infection that resulted—it still was unusually sensitive, even for scar tissue. Every now and then, inexplicably, the scar felt like it was burning, even bleeding at times from the cruciform shape left behind from the gun sight perched over the half-circle. A mark from the wraith that would never leave him. A connection seeming to span life and death.

Lopez grunted. “Fitting.
Neo
means
new
. New man. Either that, or with this mark of the beast, I’m the Antichrist.”

Houston grabbed his robes and pulled him close to her, kissing him passionately. “To hell with the Antichrist and the Church, Francisco. We have us.”

He looked out from the mountain view over the valley below them, staring toward the horizon. The green sea of the forest seemed infinite.

Lopez sighed. “Now what, Sara?”

She smirked. “We live happily ever after. It’s nice up here.”

Lopez nodded. “But is it enough? I feel lost. I became a priest to
serve
, Sara, as much as anything else. To
do
. Now I’m permanently out of a job. I appreciate all the Special Forces training, but really, what are we going to do with that, outside of being our own personal security system? What do I do now? Model cassocks?”

She smiled. “Now that you mention it, I got a call from Fred Simon this morning. I’ve kept him informed of our little training sessions, your ridiculous progress. He might have something for us to do.”

Lopez’s brows furrowed, the stigmata creasing. “Like what?”

“Jobs that legit agents can’t do. Jobs done by complete ciphers who do not exist. Jobs that need doing.”

Lopez shook his head. “No black-ops, Sara. I don’t want to go down that road. I don’t want to become those things we fought against.”

“We won’t,” she said confidently. “You’re incorruptible, Francisco. I knew that the first time I met you. Something I didn’t feel with Miguel, something I’ve never felt from anyone before. Fred knows it, too. That’s why he trusts us to do the jobs no one else can, that no one else will. Because inside, you’re pure.”

Lopez turned away, shaking his head. “Pure? Hiding. Fighting. Likely killing, if I know anything of this business now. How is that pure?”

She grabbed his chin and turned his head toward her. “Don’t the angels bring destruction on the forces of evil, my former priest?”

Lopez grunted, nodded his head. He recited: “
Then, I saw another sign in heaven, great and marvelous: seven angels having the seven last plagues, for in them the wrath of God is complete.”
He smiled at her. “The Book of Revelations. But angelology was always a messy field of study, Sara. Mystics and bad movies. But yes, the chief ministering spirits of God have been known to bring death and destruction. More like a cleansing fire to cancerous tissue, if you want my interpretation.”

Houston nestled her head into his neck. “So, you’re the avenging angel.” She sighed and was silent a moment. “Wasn’t Miguel named after an angel?”

Lopez paused. He flipped the gun in his hand back and forth, one side visible, then the other. His words were nearly lost in the wind that suddenly kicked up. “Yes. In the Hebrew, the name means
he who is like God
.”

“Well, you’re his brother. You’re of the same stuff.”

“There are only two holy angels named in the New Testament.” He dropped the clip out of the handle to the ground and slapped a new one in, careful not to jostle the resting form of Houston on his shoulder. “There is the Archangel Michael. There is also the angel whose name means ‘God’s Strength.’ He is the one who explained visions to Daniel the prophet, and of all the heavenly hosts, and was sent to announce to Mary that she would be the Mother of God. Some have called him the angel of fire, who also will be sent to destroy sin on earth.”

Houston held him tightly, staring forward toward the targets. “What was his name?”

Lopez raised the weapon and aimed across the field. “Gabriel.”

He pulled the trigger, and the gunshot shattered the quiet around them. His sight was true, the impact in the center of the heart of the target scattering dust and shards of fabric. Echoes of the blast reverberated around them like distant thunder.

Houston whispered. “Then you are Gabriel.”

If it hadn’t been for what we did—with respect to the terrorist surveillance program, or enhanced interrogation techniques for high-value detainees, the Patriot Act, and so forth—then we would have been attacked again. Those policies we put in place, in my opinion, were absolutely crucial to getting us through the last seven-plus years without a major-casualty attack on the US. Protecting the country’s security is a tough, mean, dirty, nasty business. These are evil people and we are not going to win this fight by turning the other cheek.
—Former Vice President Dick Cheney,
Politico.com,
February 4, 2009

Many of my comrades were subjected to very cruel, very inhumane and degrading treatment—a few of them even unto death. But every one of us, every single one of us knew and took great strength from the belief that we were different from our enemies, that we were better than them, that we, if the roles were reversed, would not disgrace ourselves by committing or countenancing such mistreatment of them. That faith was indispensable not only to our survival but to our attempts to return home with honor. Many of the men I served with would have preferred death to such dishonor.
—Senator John McCain,
PBS NewsHour,
October 6, 2005

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my copyeditor Julia DeGraf, developmental editors John Paine and Kristen Weber, and my family and friends who have supported me in ways too numerous to enumerate (thanks also,
The Ninth Configuration
).

There hasn’t yet been a Javed Ahmad, but there could have been, and the ghosts of souls broken in dungeons throughout the ages would certainly haunt our societies if they existed.
Extraordinary Retribution
was written because I heard their voices and could not get them out of my mind. As with
The Ragnarök Conspiracy
, what you hold in your hands is the product of an exorcism.

Erec Stebbins, September 2013, NYC

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

www.erecstebbins.com

I am a biomedical researcher who writes political and international thrillers, science fiction, narrated storybooks, and more. My stories often come from the raw emotional conflicts created and sustained by contemporary events around us. I strongly believe that the best stories challenge us, so I try to create art with a certain kind of relevant edge, at least as I experience it.

I was born in the Midwest. My mother worked as a clinical psychologist, and my father was a professor of Romance languages at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln. In fact, his specialty, old Romance languages and their literature, is the source of the strange spelling of my middle name: “Erec.” It is an Old French spelling, taken from an Arthurian romance by Chrétien de Troyes written around 1170:
Érec et Énide
. Had my brother been a girl, he would have been named Enide. Instead, he’s Michael.

I have pursued diverse interests over the course of my life, including science, music, drama, and writing. My academic path focused on science, and I received a degree in physics from Oberlin College in 1992, and a PhD in biochemistry from Cornell University in 1999.

OTHER BOOKS BY EREC STEBBINS

www.erecstebbins.com

The Ragnarök Conspiracy

"
Outrageously entertaining
: epic, explosive, subversive, engaged and compassionate, like a Michael Bay movie written by Aaron Sorkin."
 —Chris Brookmyre, author of 
Where The Bodies Are Buried

A Western terrorist organization targets Muslims around the world, and FBI agent John Savas is drawn into a web of international intrigue. To solve the case, he must put aside the loss of his son and work with a man who symbolizes all he has come to hate. Both are drawn into a race against time to stop the plot of an American bin Laden and prevent a global catastrophe.

"Fortify your shelf of Armageddon thrillers with this promising newcomer."
 —Library Journal

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READER: Daughter of Time, Book 1

“A richly detailed, compelling story about the power of love”
—Kirkus Reviews

A science fiction adventure unlike any you have ever known. A young girl, born to die in freakish disregard. A doomed world, enslaved to forces unseen. A final hope beyond imagining. Become a Reader, because in the end, the most unbelievable step in the adventure - 
will be your own
.

"Visionary"
—Richard Bunning, Another Space in Time

"Unique and altogether profound, reminiscent of Bradbury"
—San Francisco Book Reviews

“A gripping science-fiction epic that will propel readers toward wonder”
—ForeWord Reviews

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The Caterpillar and the Stone

Once upon a time, in the middle of a beautiful garden, there lived a Caterpillar and a Stone, and they were very much in love. A fairy's tale of love, loss, and beauty for not quite grown-ups. Presented as an illustrated, full-color love storybook. Narration by the author also available.

Buy from Amazon