MILLENNIUM

"Why Is That It Rains More, Daddy?"
by Paul Windsor (kickit@marlboroelectric.net)


"Why is it that it rains more daddy?"  Frank looked out of the window at 
the rain coming down in a steady unyielding way.  "I don't know 
sweetheart."  Frank replied.  What could he say to the child that she could
understand?  He closed his eyes and tears ran down his cheeks.  Frank
wondered if the night had not wept for all of the innocents who died that
night.  A damp coldness seeped through the drafty window.  He held his
daughter closer, and he looked out over the soaked earth.  The cabin was
damp and lonely, and Catherine had gone somewhere out there.  He ached to
go out and look for her, but he could not let Jordan see her mother filled
with death.  He turned to look at the dying fire and saw the empty syringe
on the floor.  He stared at it and grew angry.  The group would have to pay
for this hell.   The grief came again, and he looked at Jordan with tears.

"Mommy's all right."  Jordan told her father.  "She's with granddaddy."

Frank looked at his daughter and wished he could be as certain as his 
daughter could.

"That's right honey."  He told her.

Exhausted, Peter Watts stood in his living room his clothes dripping.  
Never the less, he stood staring with vacant eyes out at his private burial 
plot.  His daughters and wife were dead.  One by one, he carried them out 
in the rain and dug the graves ignoring the pain and stoically tending to
his task.  Finally, he sat in a chair.   Now all he had was his grief, and
that he wore with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.  He had no one.  He laid
the bottle down and took his gun out of the shoulder holster cocked it and 
looked at it.  Tears blurred his vision.  He slowly raised the gun to his 
head.  He stopped and stared out the window.  Grief chilled him when he saw 
his daughters' souls rise from their graves led by angels.  He slipped the 
hammer of the forty-five into place and put the gun on safety.  Then he 
picked up the bottle and threw it through the plate glass patio window.  
The rain packed wind whistled through the hole.  He holstered the gun and 
walked out of the house.  

"This is who we are."  A man in a black raincoat told the other standing in
the shadows of the dimly lit garage of the Millennium's building. 
 
"This is who we are." Replied the one who was hidden.  He lit up a 
cigarette.

"Have we lost them Mark?"  The man in the black raincoat asked.

"The director of the Millennium group Roosters does not know?"

The man in the black raincoat shifted uneasily, clearly agitated by the 
remark.  The other noticed and regretted it. 

"What about the girl Mark?"  Irritation laced the director's voice.

"The girl was found at a hotel, dead.  We have lost them. Watts left his 
house after he buried his daughters in the backyard.  We have a team there. 
Should we do clean up and sterilization?"  

The director chuckled.  "Why?  There aren't enough alive to do any follow 
up.  Leave it!"  Go to Frank's house and search it.  Maybe we can find 
something that will lead us to him. We still need him.

"What about Watts?"

"Kill him."


The yellow house stood in the rain, and the memory of Bletcher's killing 
surfaced in Watt's mind.  He shook it off walked to the door and broke it 
down.  He looked behind him, but the street below was quiet.  

"Ok Frank where did you go?"  He asked himself.  

He snapped on a flashlight and looked for a light switch.  He reached out 
for it then thought better of it.

"Lead me to it Frank.  Where did you go?"  He asked no one.

He searched the floor and found a picture of an unfinished cabin.  He said
something about a cabin.  It's north somewhere he thought.  Car lights
loomed up to the house, but Watts's attention was divided concentrating on
the clue.  He opened the door to the basement and walked down the steps to
Frank's former inner-sanctum and his files.  He opened the file drawer and
found the location of some property Frank had inherited.  He stuffed the
file down his pants underneath his shirt.  Then, he heard the door open.

"Watts."  A voice called out.  He knew that voice.  

It was Mr. Watts before.  The subtle things humans do to betray their 
deepest secrets, Peter thought.  Now, I know my place in the group.  Beads
of sweat surfaced on Peter's forehead as he crouched down and tried to
think about what he could do.

"Purposes that men have to force the hand of God sometimes are the hand of
God.   A shame that he is alone."  It appeared that the man spoke to no 
one, looking past the walls of the church, and he appeared to move his lips
little.  He had an odd appearance as though he didn't belong.  The eyes
unnerved you, but his face relaxed you.  Ordinary in every way, he looked
different, and an aura of power surrounded him when you came into his
presence.  But then who would have noticed in the long line of dead bodies
that sat in the pews or had drooped over them in irreverence not 
perpetuated by intent, the man's presence went unnoticed.   He turned and 
vanished through the door to meet a woman who just walked up the steep 
stairs.  He smiled.

"Hello Remmie."  He said to her.

Amazed she stopped and looked at him.  Suddenly a crack of thunder from 
above ripped her from his attention.  As she looked back, she heard the 
sound of his cloak hit the concrete.  He was not there.  She turned and 
wondered what the man meant.  Remmie was not her name.  She turned from the
church and walked towards her car.  The sign for the church displayed a 
message.  "God will leave a remnant.  Driving away into the night, she 
headed for a small town, Madrona.

Jordan slept quietly in the sleeping bag, and Frank looked at her with 
indecision.  Somewhere, his wife was out there in the rain.  He wanted to
see to make sure.  Car lights loomed up the dirt road.  Frank took his 
forty-five and slammed a chamber in the round.  He looked at Jordan still 
sleeping walked out into the rain and ran down the path to meet the 
intruder.  He would kill them.  He quickly took cover and waited for them
to get out of the car ignoring his gift's invitation, controlling the
visions, and squelching them.  The lights remained on as the driver stepped
out of the vehicle.  Frank stood up and aimed his weapon.

"Frank!"  Watts called.

Frank did not lower the weapon.  He said nothing, and coldness washed over
Peter.  Watts lowered his head.  "I wouldn't blame you Frank."  Watts said
looking at the rain wondering if the rain would be another baptism.  No,
only one baptism could deliver him from hell.

"One question." Frank stated.  "Who are we?"  He asked.

Peter hesitated.  He couldn't count the times he had said; "this is who we
are."  But the words were not there.  "I don't know Frank.  I just don't
know."

Frank lowered the gun. He looked down in a lifeless unemotional stare.  
Watts noticed his hair.   "Come on in.  Jordan's asleep.  Catherine's 
dead."  Watts turned and walked back to the Rover and killed the lights.  
He seemed to always be intruding in this man's life, he thought.

Jordan, still sleeping, did not see Watts come in with her dad, but a smile
appeared on her face when the two walked into the room.

"How did you find me?"  Frank asked in a low and gravely voice.  

"Had to do some Holmes.  I went to your house."  Watts handed him the 
photo.  "I took all the files I could find pointing to this place.  They
were there."

Frank looked at Peter with concern.   Then, he looked at Jordan.  He looked
at Watts's vehicle.  "Is that the group's van?"  Frank asked.

Peter sat back and looked at the van.  "I don't know Frank.  It could be.  
But I think they would already be here if it were.  We shouldn't take 
chances."
	
It took time to organize the team and coordinate the activities necessary 
for finding Black and Watts.  Everything took time because everyone had to 
do twice the work.  Civilian networks wiped out from the plague could no 
longer be used.  However, the trade-off balanced out the debt by 
eradicating enemies of various places.  A twinge of guilt shot into the 
director's mind.  A flash of conscience burned the words of manipulator.  
But he was an instrument of proportions never realized.  This is who we 
are; flashed in his mind.  But who were we?  He knew the history and the 
purpose.  Long extinguished passions he had when he was young to find the
truth were long gone.  Now, he was making the truth his destiny. Black had
to be found and Watts had to be eliminated.  The government was all but
gone, but the technology left behind untouched promised to be useful for
the task.  The vehicle had no transponder, but the paint on the vehicle
could be seen with a special lens on special camera in a secret satellite.

"Computer access denied."  The computer voice spoke.  

"Roedecker, what's the status?"

"I don't know an hour maybe?"

"I spared your miserable life Roedecker because of things like this.  I
could have had my pick of computer experts, but you helped us many times.
Call it sentimentality.  But I have run out of patience, and you may have
run out of time."  The director slid the chamber of the automatic.

Roedecker looked at the gun feeling the sweat pop up on his forehead.  "It
takes time to go through the encryption codes."  He eyed the gun his voice
shaking.  "The computers we have are the fastest available.  The government
must have been touchy about this project and put some extra security
protocol."

"Access granted."  The computer voice proclaimed.  

Roedecker closed his eyes.  Everything seemed to stand still.  He could 
hear the low hum of the computer.  He heard the director's shoes shuffle 
on the floor as he shifted his weight.  Then he saw a dim flash of light 
and felt searing pain.  

The school building lights shone in a lonely gesture of order.  In the 
morning he wondered how many children would show up.  The teacher walked 
over to the door and saw the chains locking the door.  He contemplated 
kicking them open, but then reason won out and he went around to the little
maintenance building.  It had an outside lock on the door.  The teacher
looked around and smiled.  A steel rod lay on the ground seemingly out of
place.  He half expected to see the body of a former burglar looking for
some tools to hock.   He took the rod inserted it into the hasp and broke
the hinge plate by pulling out the screws from the wood, the wood must have
been rotten.  He found the lock cutters and walked back to the entrance.
Occasionally, he could hear the sound of an animal going through the trash
bin in the back section of the cafeteria. He found his way to the front and
cut a link from the chain and opened the door.  No alarm sounded even
though the sticker in the window said protected by Alarmco.  The school
took away their contract, and Alarmco took away their equipment.  Only 10
more years to pay on the note and it would have been paid, he thought. 
Hundreds of faces flashed across his mind as he walked down the corridor to
his room.  Mixed emotions filled his center, joy and relief mostly.  His
class this year had been terrible, and discipline problems abounded with 
little hope of solution.  Quitting became a thought that often surfaced 
throughout the year.  Now, there was nothing to quit.  He entered his room 
and snapped on the light, the lesson plans were on the board and the
materials lay on his messy desk.  He sat down and thought of how the
decision to not teach had been made for him.  The administration started to
look at him as a teacher, and he knew then that teaching was something he
grew apart from.  Helping people who didn't want to be helped had just been
too much.  He sat in the chair letting all that wash over him, and then the
lights went out.  He looked outside and the lights in the street were out
as well, black out he thought.  He sighed and went into his drawer and
pulled out a small flashlight.  He went to one of the filing cabinets with
a box, and then he laughed.  He couldn't stop laughing, and then he began
to weep.  The stress in his life was gone, but now the emptiness of the
unknown filled him within.  What would he do now?

"Who's there?"  He called.  A small light shone from the room across the
hall from his.  He picked up the iron bar and walked over to the room.

"Who's there?"  He called again.  Light shone from the room brighter than
the beam of his flashlight.  He opened the door violently swinging it open
and raised his weapon.

"My son...."  Said a voice from across the room.  He looked at a statue of
a woman illuminated brightly and increasing.  He dropped the bar. Surprise
shone on his face and the light hurt his eyes, but he could not look away.

"We have to leave, the group is looking for us, Peter." A small fire in the
fireplace cooked some coffee.  "It's only a matter of time before they find
us.  They need us."

Watts looked at Frank as he often did with that blend of respect and awe.  
He had been with the man for years, but Frank's mind always amazed him.  
"Why do they need us?"

Frank looked at Watts.  "Me.  Peter.  They need me.  I think they will try
and kill you."

"They were out there looking for you and information at your house.  That
is certain.  Mark called me Watts and not Mr. Watts.  I knew then that
things had changed."

"Your loyalty is questionable."

"But why do they need you?  Your loyalty is questionable.  You didn't even
enter the group."

"I don't know."  Frank said.  "An impression........"  Frank trailed off 
staring that familiar stare.

A bright light focused Frank's mind and the vision cleared.  It was 
angelic, a statue of the blessed mother.  A man kneeled before the statue.  
Flash!  Outside a school building, men got out of cars and brandished 
weapons.  Flash! A woman appeared from another room. Drawn by the light she
walked toward that room.  Our Lady protects us at St. Mary's Elementary 
School. Flash!  The vision ended.

"Hi Mr. Watts.  Daddy where is Madrona?"  

"Why sweetheart?"

"I saw a beautiful lady with a light dress.  I saw a man with her and a 
lady like mommy."

"Peter we have to go there.  I don't know how much time we have.  I think 
Millennium will get them.  

"Why Frank?  Why risk going all the way there?  The group is looking for 
us."  Asked  Peter looking at Frank, puzzled.  

"Because Peter, this is who we are."

Peter stood there in disbelief.  He made his latter years the group's 
years.  He had believed everything about the group's position in the coming
end until the plague.  Then he drew the line and quit them.  Here Frank, a
mere candidate, was teaching him.  He shook his head and started packing
Frank's car.

"Peter, part of the group, maybe all of the group has gone over.  But it 
still remains that we stand as the true meaning of the group.  The old man
taught me that before he was killed."

"Who are these people they are after?"

"Witnesses, the two witnesses in John's Revelation.  At least the group 
thinks so. I think there may be another group after them, but I am not 
sure."

Mark drove up the hill to the cabin where Frank and Watts and Jordan were 
staying.  They are not there, he thought to himself.  The cell phone rang, 
and he picked it up.  "Loyalty," spelled out in his mind as he clicked the
send button.

"You there?"  The director's voice asked impatiently. 
 
"Yes.  It looks abandoned.  We found our vehicle ditched down the hill.  
I'm sure Watts got to them."  He said without enthusiasm.

"Damn!"  The voice said.  "We will have to delay this project. A more
pressing thing is at hand.  I want you to go to Madrona.   Find the St.
Mary's  Elementary School.  The two we want are there, execute if capture
is impossible."

"Right...."  Mark hung up the phone.  "Loyalty."  The word flashed through
his mind, and he wondered what it meant.  Loyalty to the group had been his
utmost endeavor.  He was loyal to Watts.  Now, that had changed.  Mark
stopped the car and opened his Bible.  It fell to Revelation chapter 11.
He read, "I will commission my two witnesses to prophesy for those twelve
hundred and sixty days, wearing sackcloth."  Witnesses, God's witnesses he
thought.  He turned the car on and drove back to the highway.  He shuddered
at the discovery.  He never had believed in opening the page to the bible
at random for some kind of revelation, but there it was, and he believed.

At dawn Frank, Jordan, and Peter arrived at the school.  Angel Elementary 
stood in a dark outline in front of a rising sun.  Frank looked on top of
the building and stared at the statue of the angel guarding the entrance at
the very top of the building.  Flash!  The angel stood, and he looked at
Frank and smiled.  He had no wings, but his dark raincoat surrounded him.
Flash!  The statue took the other angel's place and crouched again guarding
the front door again.

"We must get to them."  Frank said.  The all got out of the car and began 
to walk to the front doors.  Then they stopped.

"Mark?"  Peter Watts asked.

"This IS who we are."  Mark stated.

Frank noticed that Mark held no weapon on them and no others were present. 
"We have an ally Peter."  Frank revealed.

Peter looked at Frank and then back to Mark.  "Where are they Mark?"  Peter
asked.

"Safe Mr. Watts."  Mark declared.

"For now."  Frank said.  "When they have finished their testimony, the 
beast that comes up from the abyss will wage war against them and conquer 
them and kill them.  Does the group know?"  Frank asked.

"No Mr. Black."  Mark said.

"What will you do with them?"  Peter asked.

"He'll take care of them."  Jordan told Peter.  Mark stared at Jordan in 
awe. 

"You had better go.  Aerotech is on its way.  I will be gone.  I have 
already told the director that you have come and gone with them.  He was 
not pleased.  The group wants them dead. "

"Why?"  Peter asked.

"To control events keep the world from being destroyed."  Frank answered.

"God would just choose some others.  Possibly you two."  Mark offered.

"I wish I had your faith Mark.  What will you do now?  Frank asked Mark.

"Continue with the group."  He said.  "Try to do some right along the way."

Flash!  The gift woke in Frank clairvoyantly.  Trees lined a path that men 
from the group ushered Mark along.  One took out a revolver and shot Mark. 
Flash!

Frank rubbed his face with his hands trying to wipe the vision from him.  
"Mark you really should leave the group."

"I have seen that to Frank.  I must go on my path."  Mark walked past them 
to his car.  

"This Is who we are."  Frank said.

"This is who we are."  Agreed Peter.

"This is who we are."  Jordan said smiling.

Mark turned and smiled.  Opened his car door.  He got in and drove away.

Frank turned around to look at the school.  Jordan looked up.

"He's gone daddy."  Jordan said.

"Yes Jordan.  He's gone."