Free Cobra Z by Sean Deville Page B

audience, he grew tired of the author’s talk, which was more of an elitist rant than a true understanding of the virus that humankind represented. Halfway through the lecture, Jones put his hand up. At first, he was ignored, but he persisted. Then he stood up, causing a murmur around him.
    “A question from the audience?” the author said. “I don’t normally answer questions.”
    “Is that because you are afraid what you might get asked?” Jones said.
    “Of course not,” the author said defensively.
    “Good. I’ve been listening to you, and I hear your message that the herd should be culled. But I also hear your other message, that the elite should be spared. Am I hearing that correctly?”
    “Yes, I believe the best and the brightest should be left to inherit the Earth.”
    “Would those be the best and brightest who developed nuclear weapons? Who developed technology that allowed humanity to grow from hundreds of millions to billions and thus create the very overpopulation we now face? Who developed vaccines and medicine and sanitation? Are those the best and brightest you refer to?” Jones was animated now, and there was a noticeable shift in the audience.
    “I don’t think you quite understand …”
    “Oh, I understand more than you could possibly imagine. You don’t believe in saving the Earth. You believe in your own superiority over everyone in this room. Tell me, what gives you the right to pick who lives and who dies? If you believe in your mission so much, will you be the first to lay down your life? Will your sons and your daughter join you in your sacrifice?”
    That had caused an uproar, and some of the audience even rallied to the truth in his interruption. Jones had still been escorted out, but not before the room had descended into anarchy. With one false prophet slain, Jones had continued his quest. He went to similar lectures, and through other such meetings, he discovered a secretive network of like-minded people who wanted nothing more than to see the human race if not wiped out completely, then at least reduced to a manageable level. It was through this group that he met and befriended an elderly man called Zachariah. Or was it more truthful to say that Zachariah found and befriended him? Then came the fateful day when, attending a meeting with his new mentor (at least that was what Zachariah considered himself to Jones’ inner amusement), he was introduced to a man called Abraham.
    To this day, Jones knew little about the person known only to him as Brother Abraham. What he did know was that his wealth seemed limitless, that he had power normal people couldn’t even imagine, and that his belief in a vengeful God seemed unshakeable, almost infectious. This was not the God of the Bible, although selective Bible texts were used to justify various belief systems that Abraham would spout with such passion. Like the belief that the End Times were coming, and that it was God’s will that his agents on Earth would need to be the catalyst for Armageddon. Jones always wondered why God needed people to work his miracles for him. He didn’t remember the Great Flood being outsourced.
    Jones knew full well that he was joining a cult, and although he wasn’t impressed by the religious aspect of it, the resources that were offered and subsequently made available to him were more than he could ever hope. The professor’s original plan was to create a virus so infectious, so contagious, and so lethal that the planet would be stripped bare of the majority of human life. Some would survive, but the festering, bloated system that allowed his family’s murderer to walk free would be brought to its knees. That was his vision, that was his purpose, his identity. That’s what kept him awake at night, the possibilities churning through his head as his imagination watched a civilisation die. But Abraham had other plans, and he slowly and methodically worked his warped influence on a mind that could not