Chasing the Prophet
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Chasing the Prophet
Orson B. Wolf
Copyright © 2020 Or Ben Zeev
All rights reserved; No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author.
Contact: orsonbwolf@gmail.com
Contents
Prologue
1 Paper Ball
2 The Princess (Four Days Earlier)
3 Little Boy
4 We Have an Offer for You
5 Green Park
6 A Challenging Position
7 Max
8 Relocation
9 A Demigod
10 Wandering Flower
11 Tell Me at Home
12 Are You With Us?
13 Keep Your Eyes Peeled
14 A Militant Fly
15 Blue Tracksuit
16 An Off-Road Dog
17 Angry Man
18 Everything is Fine
19 Another Man’s Redemption
20 A Picture Postcard
21 A Smiling Elephant
22 Green Eyes
23 Closed for Cleaning
24 A Black Spot in the Sky
25 The New Suit
26 The One who Knows
27 Greene’s Story
28 It’s Only Going to Get Worse
29 Surprises are Always a Bad Thing
30 Long Distance Runner
31 One Hundred Thousand Believers
32 Shady Business
33 A Dead End
34 Inside Information
35 A Dynasty of Hunters
36 Dispersing the Fog
37 A Knock on the Door
38 A Bowl of Soup
39 Two Nice Little Youngsters
40 Street Smart
41 A Seat in the Last Row
42 Five Thousand
43 A Yellow Tennis Ball
44 Are You all Right, Kid?
45 Hubris
46 The Game Theory
47 I’m Sorry
48 Third Floor, No Elevator
49 The End of the World
50 A Mother’s Instinct
51 Streetlight
52 Being Closer to God
53 Thus Spoke the Prophet
54 A Boy and His Dog
55 When the Prophet Will Speak
56 A Tin Roof
57 A Volatile Situation
58 Armageddon
59 Pure Evil
60 A Little Spot in the Snow
61 You’re an Angel
62 Complete Chaos
63 A Cocoon of Warmth
64 As Serious as a Heart Attack
65 A New Toy
66 U-Turn
67 Anubis
68 Gabriel
69 A Sense of Urgency
70 A Disturbing Message
71 Cold Mud
72 A Bright Hat
73 A Guiding Hand
“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together;
and a little child shall lead them.”
(End-Time Vision, Isaiah 11:6)
Prologue
The slow deterioration in the relationship between the west and the east has gained momentum in the past two years. Frequent provocations initiated by North Korea have contributed to the growing tension. One month ago, these tensions culminated in an open, deep-sea confrontation between an American destroyer and a Russian submarine.
The leaders of the western world have demonstrated a lax and helpless attitude, and their attempts at creating a dialogue with the other side have collapsed when faced with walls of steady disregard. The entire world has found itself on the brink of disaster. The inconceivably horrific possibility of a nuclear conflict between the United States and Russia has become a reality; the kind of conflict that denies any hope of a future for humanity.
It seems, too, that the lack of balance on the face of the earth has been paralleled in the heavens, as extreme weather has mercilessly ravaged many parts of the globe. Residents of Southern California have been experiencing phenomena that are vastly atypical of the spring season. Violent climatic events—such as lightning storms accompanied by harsh winds, cold waves, and sudden bouts of rain—have become increasingly frequent. The weather experts have been unable to explain these occurrences and have stated, in their hesitant way, that these anomalies are merely the result of the greenhouse effect.
Against this backdrop of growing concerns about the possibility of a global war, the recession continues to deepen, and unemployment is raising its head. Everywhere change is on the wind, and with angry howls it carves an unknown, unpredictable destiny. The eyes and ears of the entire world are now focused on a single distinct voice, clear and steady.
In recent years he has gathered much power. No one knows who he is, and many are the speculations about his true identity.
They call him, “The Prophet.”
Prophet Website Registered Request No. 203901
Dear Prophet,
My name is Charlie Smith and I’m from Oregon. I am eight and a half years old.
My older sister, Brenda, says that you don’t actually decide what’s going to happen. She says you only know about things that will happen in the future.
But I still want to ask something from you, because it’s really important for me and I really hope you’ll read my request, even though you’re probably very busy.
So here is my request:
I ask that there won’t be any rain next Wednesday because we’re putting on a school play and I’m playing the part of the king. I ask this because we put it on in the park where there’s no roof, and they said they’d cancel it if it will rain, and I worked so hard rehearsing for this part so please, please don’t let it rain that day!
And if it has to rain, at least make it only a drizzle.
Thanks a lot!
Yours,
Charlie Smith
1
Paper Ball
“Shit!” the blond teen blurted as the paper ball he’d thrown bounced off the side of the wastepaper basket.
The ball rolled across the floor and stopped at the feet of a woman, about sixty years of age. She sat in a chair, utterly still, her hands bound, duct tape wound around her mouth, effectively gagging her. Her eyes, wide open, followed the teenager’s every movement.
Someone chuckled as he stood there, obviously disappointed. He examined the ball as it lay at the woman’s feet.
“All right, I’m just warming up,” the blond teen said quietly. “Now I’ll show you what a pure shooter is all about.”
He closed one eye, picked up another paper ball, aimed and threw again. This time, the ball landed right in the middle of the basket.
“That’s the way you do it!” he cried out, then turned and bowed, exaggerating the movement as his two friends applauded him.
Moving slowly, he approached the woman.
“Are we in agreement here, ma’am?” he asked. “Oh, I forgot. It’s a little hard for you to talk right now.”
He leaned toward her, his nose almost touching hers. The sound of laughter ceased. Now there was only tense silence.
; He winked at his friends as he placed his one hand on her forehead. With the other, he ripped the duct tape from her mouth in a single, quick movement. Her head jerked forward, and she uttered a short, sharp cry of pain, then was immediately silent. She continued to sit motionless, her eyes staring at him, blinking defiantly.
Disappointment crowded the teenager’s face. “Don’t you have something you want to say? Cry maybe?”
He leaned toward her again and whispered, “What do you say, perhaps it’s time for you to tell us what we want to know?”
The woman remained silent, her eyes regarding him steadily.
The two other teens looked at each other, obviously concerned. One of them mustered enough courage to speak.
“What are you doing, Thomas? Jackie specifically told us not to mess with her until he calls.”
“Jackie’s not here now!” Thomas snarled angrily. He whirled around and confronted the other two. His voice was menacing. “And when Jackie’s not here, who calls the shots?”
The other one immediately backed down. “You do, of course you do,” he muttered.
“Exactly!” Thomas said. “And it’s my call that this old hag will tell us everything, because she doesn’t have a choice!” He bent over and picked up another paper ball, dunking it in the wastepaper basket with a triumphant sneer. “Ain’t that right, Grannie?”
2
The Princess
(Four Days Earlier)
Everyone knew the princess.
Store owners around the corner of 5th and Jackson told stories of how she had been rich once and lived in San Francisco with her husband, a well-known real estate tycoon. They lived with their three children in a luxurious house in Pacific Heights, at least that’s what the rumors said. The princess often said so, too, to anyone who would listen. And if someone ever doubted her words, she instantly fished out from her shopping cart a faded Lifestyle magazine issue, pointed at the cover and declared, “That’s me!” Then she smiled her famous beaming smile. “What, can’t you tell?”
The princess couldn’t remember what exactly had gone so wrong, nor could she explain how she found herself living on a bench on Beverly Drive. Everyone also knew that even if she had actually used to live a glamorous life, the years had turned her into nothing more than a harmless vagrant, spreading her smile in every direction. She always wore colorful dresses, clattering plastic jewelry, and worn-out high heels, as befitting a princess. She was quite happy with her situation in life.
She loved her bench, the bustling sidewalk, and the café across the street. The “Corner Café” employees spoiled her with a fresh cup of coffee every morning. The branches of a wide-canopied tree stretched over her bench, offering her a natural roof, protection from both sun and rain. A few weeks ago, she had pinned the local football team’s pennant to her bench. Since then, passersby began to give her a thumbs up as they walked by, with a good for you, Princess, and it made her feel like a patriot, a true ambassador of the city.
This morning had started for her much like any other, and as she would later say to the reporters, nothing had prepared her for what was about to transpire.
Just like every morning, she listened to her favorite radio show, “A Blast from the Past.” The powerful headphones, which some good Samaritan had given her as a present, allowed her to enjoy her favorite music despite her deteriorating hearing. And so, with the sun gently stroking her face and the scent of fresh coffee filling her nose, she closed her eyes and enjoyed a precious moment.
This was why she became so upset with the stranger that disturbed her.
The man suddenly stood above her, blocking the sun and miming with his hands for her to remove the headphones and listen to what he had to say. He sweated profusely under his baseball cap. He seemed nervous. Dark sunglasses obscured his eyes.
The princess did not appreciate such interruptions. Certainly not now, when she was listening to The Sound of Music. When she’d close her eyes, the sounds took her years back, into her lover’s arms, and she was lost in a blissful night of youth and magic.
Until that irksome man came and ruined it all.
She snatched the earphones out of her ears and hissed defiantly. “What?”
“Thanks. I’m sure you can hear me now.”
At least he spoke loud and clear. Most people nowadays seemed to be whispering, or muttering all the time, as if they didn’t know the princess’s hearing wasn’t what it had used to be.
The man smiled amicably, but he still looked suspicious to her. She had never trusted people who concealed their eyes. The eyes are the windows of the soul, as some poet or playwright had once said—she couldn’t remember which. Only crooks and cheats have reason to hide them.
“What do you want?” she asked suspiciously, examining him from head to toe.
“I’ve heard that you’re the princess.”
His smile softened her a bit.
“True.”
“They tell me you are famous.” He narrowed the distance between them and pointed at the vacant place on the bench.
She nodded. The famous smile began to sprout on her lips. This nice man must want to hear her stories.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” he said as he sat down.
He removed his sunglasses for a moment, wiped his sweat, and looked at her kindly. He was rather handsome, she could now see.
The man leaned toward her and secretively said, “You have a nice smile, Princess.”
This made her smile fully bloom into a grin. She still had all her natural teeth, and was damn proud of it.
“You remind me of this guy I once knew,” she said, and instantly added, “not that anything happened between us. He was married and I’m not that kind of girl.” She chuckled and turned to her shopping cart. “I even have a picture of him somewhere, hold on.” She started fumbling at the bottom of the cart.
“That’s all right, you can show me later.”
She didn’t listen. “Where are you, Theodore,” she muttered and started tossing clothes and other objects from the shopping cart. “I’m sure I put you here.”
The man rose to his feet and went to her. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and said softly, “Princess…”
The sound of his voice made her stop.
“What?” She gave him an embarrassed look.
“I want to hear everything about you, but I’m hungry.” He beckoned with his hand toward the sidewalk on the other end of the street. “Would you do me the honor of sharing a breakfast with me? My treat.”
She looked at the café. The employees were always kind to her. They gave her batteries for her radio, and coffee in a paper cup every morning. But a whole meal? Her stomach started grumbling.
“I don’t know about you, but I sure feel like having a good omelet, buttered toast, freshly squeezed orange juice… not to mention some quality coffee.” He spoke loudly and examined her face. “How do you like your coffee, Princess? Let me guess, a fine lady like you probably drinks an espresso with a little glass of soda on the side and a slice of lemon. Just like the Europeans.”
The princess licked her lips and nodded. “All right, young man, I accept your invitation.” She sent him a reproachful look and added, “But no hanky-panky. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He offered her his hand and she theatrically accepted.
“Hold it!” she suddenly shouted. She snatched back her hand and turned to take her old shopping cart.
The man looked at her with discomfort, obviously not happy with the delay. “We’d better get going, you really don’t want to be standing near your corner right now.”
“What did you say?” The princess twisted her mouth. She didn’t like it when people didn’t speak loud enough to be heard.
“I said I really want to be eating my breakfast right now,” he said louder, took her arm again and pul
led her after him.
His eyes kept returning to the road. He grabbed the shopping cart with his free hand and kept urging her on with the other.
“What a gentleman. You haven’t even told me your name.” She raised her eyes to him questioningly.
He hesitated a moment. “Bogart,” he finally said. “Harry Bogart.”
“Really?” She opened her mouth wide and continued to follow him, as if mesmerized.
They slowly walked arm-in-arm, her waddling on her high heeled shoes, him dragging her old shopping cart behind him. A few drivers stopped at the traffic light stared at the odd couple crossing the road.
The princess walked beside him with her head held high and her plastic jewelry rattling with every step. When they reached the middle of the road, she suddenly stopped and looked back.
Her companion urged her on. “Let’s go already,” he muttered.
She looked at him with confusion, but then he flashed a wide smile. It was captivating.
“Oh, all right,” she said as she started walking again, allowing him to lead her.
They finally reached the café’s door. The outer area was empty, apart from two diners. He led her straight to one of the tables.
When they sat down, he stole a glance at her bench across the road and emitted a sigh. He looked much more relaxed now.
“How are you doing today, Princess?” The waitress showed up and gave her companion a curious look. It wasn’t every day that the princess drifted so far from her bench. And with the company of someone who looked… well, normal.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Of course.” The princess nodded ceremoniously. “This nice gentleman is called Mr. Bogart.”
The waitress raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Bogart is treating me to breakfast!” the princess declared proudly. “Take it down, please, sweetie.” She cleared her throat, gave her voice a more formal tone, and detailed the various ingredients of her breakfast with crisp wags of her finger. “Lastly,” she finally added. “I will have a double espresso with a glass of soda on the side, and don’t forget the slice of lemon.”