The Circle of Eight (11 page)

A
church!

She ran
as fast as she could toward the carport at the front, then leaned on Jenny’s
shoulder with her elbow to climb up the few steps to the large front doors. As
she entered, she heard a shout and she looked to her right to see the driver of
their SUV stumbling past the corner of the house.

He
raised his weapon and fired, the bullet slamming into the brick railing sending
shards of sharp rock blasting in all directions. Sylvia pushed Jenny inside
then jumped across the threshold as another bullet tore into the door.

“Somebody
help us! Please!” she yelled as the few inside turned toward the commotion. She
stumbled forward, down the aisle of the church toward the altar, her body
weakening rapidly, the adrenaline she had been running on waning in its effect,
forcing her to lean on Jenny more and more, Jenny’s tiny body struggling under
her mother’s weight, the little champion not saying a word in protest.

A man
near the front, kneeling deep in prayer, looked then jumped up as fast as his
old bones could manage as the pastor ran toward them from a side room. There
were only a few worshippers here, it not Sunday, and almost all were retirees
well into their final years.

But
every one of them moved to help.

The pastor
quickly took control.

“Was
that gunfire I heard?”

“Yes,”
gasped Sylvia as she finally fell to her knees, her body too weak to continue.

The pastor
turned to his parishioners.

“Call
nine-one-one, tell them we need police and ambulance, shots have been fired.”

One of
the women pulled her phone out of her purse, dialing as she walked away from
the commotion.

“Kurt,
you were a medic in the war, weren’t you?”

The
first man to have reacted nodded as he struggled to kneel on the floor. The pastor
helped him then ran for the doors. Sylvia heard the clicking of locks as Kurt
quickly looked at her wound, then noticed her cuffs. Loosening the tourniquet,
he quietly said, “Who’s after you?”

“Some
men pretending to be FBI. They tried to kill us. It’s something to do with my
brother’s work.”

“What’s
he do?”

“I’m not
allowed to say. It’s military though.”

“Ahhh,
one of our Special Forces boys. Enough said.”

“I need
to call him.”

“What’s
the number?” he asked as he tore her sleeve off. She gasped in pain and passed
out as hammering could be heard at the doors.

St. Paul’s University, St. Paul, Maryland

“Let’s talk the Black Death.”

Professor
James Acton sat perched on the edge of his desk, legs extended out in front of
him, crossed at the ankles. He faced a class of over one hundred students, most
of whom actually seemed to want to be there. Eager heads popped up at the
mention of one of his favorite topics in history.

“Who can
tell me why it was called the Black Death?”

A hand
shot up.

“Wasn’t
it something to do with these black things growing under their armpits?”

“Very
good. One of the symptoms was the infection collecting in the lymph nodes, some
of which are located under the arm pits. These would swell, filled with a black
puss that would darken the skin. The doctors at the time would slice them open,
letting the infected blood out. It would be this nasty thick, black, horrible
smelling ooze that would cure you of eating anything for a few days.”

There
was laughter from the students, and a little queasiness.

“But,
keep in mind that’s a new term. At the time it was called many things such as
The Pestilence or The Great Mortality.” He paused and took a sip of water from
a glass on his desk. “So, where did it originate?”

Silence.

“It was
thought to have originated in the Orient, probably China, then made its way
along the trade routes, and eventually to Europe. Any idea when it hit Europe?”

“Wasn’t
it in the dark ages? Like thirteen hundred something?”

“Yes.
The first case was believed to have happened in 1328, and the plague ravaged Europe
until 1351. Over the next sixty years there were additional outbreaks, but none
like the first. Some estimates put the death toll at as much as sixty percent
of the European population, most of that toward the end.”

That
got a reaction.

“Now
imagine a plague hitting us, killing off half of America in just a few years.
What kind of impact would that have on us?”

“Our
economy would be screwed.”—“We’d be open to invasion.” —“China would take
over.”

Acton
nodded.

“I hear
mostly negative things. In fact, I think everything was negative unless you
really like Chinese food.” Laughter. “How about we learn from history? It’s
hard to believe that having half your population die horrible agonizing deaths
in a few short years could produce anything good, but it did. In fact, the
Black Death eventually led to many advancements that still impact us today.”

“You
mean like how war spurs technological progress?”

“Yes, in
some ways, but also in others. The obvious was advancements in science in
general. Once cases started to show up, doctors were trying to figure out ways
to cure it. They experimented on patients, and in doing so, came up with the
scientific method. Before that, most experimentation was haphazard guesswork
with no method. But by the end of the Black Death, many new methods of
experimentation were developed that evolved over the centuries into our modern
scientific method.”

“What
caused it?”

“Great
question. For centuries no one knew. There were crazy theories out there. Wrath
of God, bad air being released by earthquakes. As well, Jews were often
blamed.”

“Man,
can’t those dudes ever get a break?”

More
laughter, and Acton smiled, but became serious.

“Jews
were tortured into confessing that they had caused the plague to destroy
Christians, then were put to death or expelled by the thousands. In Strasburg,
Germany, they gave Jews a choice. Convert to Christianity, or be burned at the
stake. Thousands chose to die rather than give up their religion.”

The
laughter was gone.

“The
Black Death was a period of fear. Much of it fear due to ignorance. Back then
they encouraged people not to bathe for fear it would open up the pores on the
skin which would let the plague in.”

“Very
Klingon!”

Acton
chuckled. “Very! So, guess what came into use around that time?”

“Deodorant?”

“Close.
Perfumes and colognes to cover up the stench. But we’ve since determined that
the disease was carried by infected fleas on rats. The rats were aboard the
ships that spread it to rats all along the trading routes, and eventually to
Europe. It never occurred to anyone at the time that it was rats spreading it.
The rats spread the fleas to other rats, the fleas jumped onto the people and bit
them, infecting them.”

“Besides
questionable advances in medicine and stench maskers, what possible good could killing
off half of the population have brought?” asked a skeptical voice from the back
of the room.

“Well,
for one thing it loosened the grip religion held over the population. First,
there were a lot less worshipers, second, those worshippers were being blamed
for the plague, saying it was punishment for their fornicating and blasphemous
ways, and when people did what the church told them, and nothing changed, they
began to question things. It took time, but over the centuries that followed,
it led to the reformation, and eventually the separation of church and state.”

“But how
can we learn from that now? We already have a separation of church and state.”

Acton
nodded.

“True.
We
do, but much of the world doesn’t.”

“Who?”

“Pretty
much any country that isn’t a democracy. Outside of Western democracies and
officially atheist countries like China, there is no separation of Church and
State.”

“So what
they need is a good plague?”

Laughter
filled the room and Acton held up his hand to stop it.

“No, I
wouldn’t say that. I’m just saying that a plague was one of many things that
helped
us
progress. For those who still haven’t figured out how to
separate religion from their government it may be any number of things, but
until they figure out how to separate the two, there will always be conflict
between those who want to cling to the old ways, and those who want to move
forward. But we’re getting off topic.” He clapped his hands together. “So, what
else happens when you wipe out half your population?”

Silence.

“Well, wouldn’t
your workforce also be cut in half?”

Nods.

“So, if
your workforce is cut in half, what do you think would happen?”

“There
would be more demand for workers?”

“Exactly.
So what would happen then?”

“Umm,
wages go up?”

“Yup.
And if you remember from last week’s class, what type of system did they have
in England and much of Europe at the time?”

“The
feudal system.”

“Exactly.
Subsistence farmers working the Lord’s land in exchange for a share of the crop
and a roof over their heads. But if the worker can go into the town and get a
reasonable wage and buy his own food, what do you think happened?”

“The
Lords had to pay more for someone to work their lands?”

“Correct.
So essentially the feudal system began to slowly break up as the availability
of people willing to work for slave wages dried up, especially after the
Peasants Revolt in 1381. Farming techniques were changed to less labor
intensive forms, the migration to the cities began, and the reformation
eventually occurred with the church having lost much of its influence.”

The door
to the back of the room opened and Acton nearly fell off his perch as he
recognized Niner and Jimmy sitting down in the back row.

Something
must be wrong!

“So, I
want you all to think about what would happen to America, and the world, if
half the population were to die off. Not from the negative side, but from the
positive side. What
good
would come out of a mass die off in let’s say
five, ten, fifty and a hundred years out. Two thousand words on my desk by
Monday, then be prepared to discuss it.

“And
don’t just go on the web and pull down a list. That’s where I get all my
information, so I’m liable to recognize it.” Laughter and some averted eyes
greeted his closing statement. “Dismissed.”

The room
emptied and Acton motioned for Niner and Jimmy to join him. They came down the
steps toward the pit where he taught, and he knew something was definitely wrong.
There were no smiles, none of the usual Niner joviality.

Acton
extended his hand.

“Niner,
good to see you.”

“You
too, Doc.”

“Jimmy,”
said Acton, shaking Niner’s traditional partner’s hand.

“Doc.”

“What
can I do for you guys?”

“We need
your help.”

Acton’s
heart skipped a beat. The last time these guys had needed his help he had been
flown halfway around the world in a race to find a nuclear weapon and save his
fiancée, Professor Laura Palmer. Whatever had happened to his nice, cozy life
as an archeology professor he had no clue. It seemed more often than not he was
dodging bullets or worse from either terrorists or some ancient cult determined
on maintaining a millennium long status quo.

But if
it weren’t for those adventures, he never would have met the love of his life,
and his classes wouldn’t have been half as popular as they were now.

“It’s
not another nuclear weapon is it?”

Niner
shook his head.

“Sorry,
Doc. This one’s different.” Niner and Jimmy then gave him the rundown of what
had happened over the past week. The rape, the threats, the murder of Stucco
and his family, the victim, the cop’s family and now Dawson’s sister and niece’s
kidnapping. But through it all, he failed to see anything he could possibly
help them with, and said so.

Niner
opened a file folder he was carrying, and placed it on Acton’s desk. His
eyebrows immediately shot up.

“Where
did you find this?” he asked, his heart pumping a little harder.

“BD said
he first saw it on a table in Lacroix’s room. Lacroix got really pissed when BD
looked at the papers,” replied Niner.

“And
this one,” said Jimmy, pointing at the photograph, “was nailed to a telephone
pole outside of Stucco’s house.”

“Clearly
he was sending a message,” commented Niner. “I’m willing to bet that symbol is
at the other two murder sites, they just didn’t know to look for it.”

“Sounds probable,”
agreed Acton, his mind racing.

“So,
Doc, what are we looking at?”

Acton
crossed the floor to the door and locked it, pulling down the blind. He
returned to the two soldiers and lowered his voice.

“
If
this is genuine, and I do mean
if
, you may be dealing with one of the most
dangerous groups to have ever graced the face of this Earth.”

Pentecostals of Richmond Church, Pickens Road, Richmond, Virginia

Something forced Sylvia to wake. She heard it again, a loud bang,
screams, her daughter crying. Her eyes shot open and she found herself being
dragged by the legs, Kurt and another man pulling her between two rows of pews,
Jenny trailing behind her, shielded by an elderly lady, her hair so thin and
grey it was almost a remembrance of what was, rather than a leftover. As she
was pulled between the thick benches she saw the door swing open and the few
that remained scattering for their lives as the driver limped in.