Free The Last Day by Glenn Kleier

glimpse of Rome, New York City and the Great Salt Lake. As the red on-air light went out, the crew relaxed and Feldman stepped in from the balcony to a round of congratulations.
    The breeze was picking up slightly, and the clouds Feldman had noticed earlier off to the south had apparently collected into a squall. It was too far away to affect the telecast here, but would perhaps create enough of a wind to add some drama.
    At Feldman's suggestion, Hunter would begin the final segment with a tight camera zoom on the storm. Flashes of lightning were developing in the distance and Feldman could make good use of the metaphor. As the clock came up on 11:45, Feldman again took his position on the balcony, Bollinger cued the camera on the squall, and Feldman smiled quickly at Anke, who responded in kind.
    “There's a storm brewing over this ancient Holy Land tonight,” Feldman began, as the camera zoomed back from the angry clouds to include the young reporter in the shot. “As you've witnessed over the last few months, a great spiritual movement is taking place across the globe in anticipation of the coming new millennium, only minutes away now. There are an estimated two million people assembled in this vicinity who firmly believe that, in less than fifteen minutes, we are about to experience a climactic end, or perhaps a new beginning, to our world as we know it.”
    The camera pulled back, panning to the right to include in the picture a frumpy, middle-aged woman.
    “One of these people,” Feldman continued, “is Allissa Bateman from Trenton, New Jersey. Miss Bateman is a member of a religious sect who believe they are in communion with the archangel Gabriel, the spiritual harbinger who will herald the Judgment at midnight with a blast from his golden trumpet.”
    Bollinger switched to another camera angle to better frame the smaller woman with the tall Feldman. The developing storm sat nicely behind and above the woman for the perfect dramatic touch.
    “Miss Bateman, you've traveled thousands of miles from home to be here tonight. Can you tell our audience what you previously did for a living, and why you're here?”
    “Yes, I'm forty-three years old, married with two children, Bill and Tommy, and my husband, Frank, he had to stay home with the kids and his job, of course.” Miss Bateman babbled on about a personal spirit messenger for a few more moments and Feldman wrapped her up quickly, not to lose momentum.
    Cutting away between guests, Bollinger switched to cameras surveying the masses below, which were getting truly emotional now as the final moment neared. The rising wind had had a chilling effect. The majority were kneeling, praying, crying, singing, fainting. The fighting and antagonism had ceased.
    Bollinger checked the clock, twelve minutes till. He cued the next guest, a tall, gaunt young man with shaved head and black robes. Very much like a monk, except he wore upside-down crucifixes from his earlobes, and his eyelids were tattooed to resemble open eyes. Very Sodom and Gomorrah, Feldman decided. He was going to have a hard time playing it straight with this guy, but the audience would love it.
    “And this is Mr. Astarte. Am I pronouncing that correctly?”
    “Just ‘Astarte,’ ” the man answered solemnly. “Yes, I am of the Second Realm.”
    “And what's the Second Realm anticipating here tonight, Mr. Astarte?”
    “Only ‘Astarte,’ ” he insisted. “We are here for the changing of the realm, the new time in which the natural cycle will occur and Lord Lucifer will ascend to His throne to rule for the next two thousand years.”
    “And will this transition be a peaceful one,” Feldman wanted to know, “or will we be confronting Armageddon here?”
    “We do not yet know,” Astarte informed the world. “We must be prepared for resistance, but the Lord Lucifer comes into his realm by divine right, and nothing can prevent it. If we must fight to safeguard his passage, so be it!”
    With that