everything-ends-in-jerusalemeverything-ends-in-jerusalem

Anal

Subject: Everything Ends in Jerusalem (Gay/Adult-Youth) Please donate to Nifty. They’ve been hosting these stories for decades. I have other stories on Nifty listed in the prolific authors section under Vance Von Jungsburg E-mail me if you liked the story or want to talk – I always ail EVERYTHING ENDS IN JERUSALEM By Vance Von Jungsburg CHAPTER 1: BAKERSFIELD “It’s as soft as it looks,” Mr. Betts whispered as he stroked Elijah’s hair. “And the color…” “That’s enough,” Elijah’s brother Jason commanded. Betts quickly withdrew his hand. Adults and children had been petting Elijah’s head his entire life. The straight, thick hair covered his forehead, neck and ears with a striated assemblage of colors: blonde, chestnut, mahogany and silver, like the coat of a well-groomed fox. It was a head of hair that people were compelled to touch. Beyond his hair, the twelve year old boy’s appearance was equally extraordinary. His large, wide-set eyes were an unlikely gold color, as if a small dusting of metallic glitter ringed each pupil. The eyes were set off by long, dark lashes and eyebrows, contrasting with smooth, unblemished skin which was the color of light caramel. Mr. Betts looked down at the folder on his lap. “Twins…” He looked up at Elijah and Jason and raised his eyebrows. “Wow.” Jason shrugged. He’d heard it hundreds of times and no longer bothered trying to explain it. Their last foster mother, Mrs. Kent, had told him that boys matured at different rates. Still, Jason was a head and a half taller than his twin brother, making him the tallest boy in seventh grade. Jason outweighed Elijah by at least 60 pounds as well, but there wasn’t a pinch of flab on his body – his well-defined muscles gave him an intimidating and imposing presence, one he used to his advantage when protecting his compact twin brother. And Jason’s olive skin and dark, curly hair looked nothing like his brother’s lustrous appearance. Mr. Betts cleared his throat. “I’ll do my best to find you another foster family,” he said in a voice cloaked with cheer. “But once boys become teenagers, it gets a little harder to place them.” “So we still have seven months,” Elijah said with fake enthusiasm. Betts laughed out loud. The boys knew that he’d been charmed. Elijah’s extraordinary appearance and genial personality inspired strong reactions in everyone who came in contact with him. Most people were beguiled by the stunning boy, but a significant number reacted with irrational wrath. Jason had honed his martial skills protecting his smaller twin brother; at this point it was a reflexive part of his existence. “So…” Mr. Betts said to the smaller twin, “Elijah, tell me a little more about yourself. I want to get to know you beyond what it says in this file.” As an afterthought Betts added “You too, Jason.” Jason stood up from the plastic and chrome chair. “We’re really tired. Can we go back to our room?” “Yes, we can continue this later,” Betts said. Beside warding off people who bore animosity toward Elijah, Jason felt like it was his duty to protect his smaller brother from those who took too much interest in him. Jason thought back to their last foster home. Mrs. Kent’s husband, Tom, had barely been a presence in the household when Jason and Elijah moved in. His job as an attorney required long hours at the office, and Jason got the impression that Mr. Kent didn’t have much interest in being around the foster family his wife had assembled after their last son had left for college. But Mr. Kent took a special interest in Elijah and soon began spending more time at home. A week ago Mrs. Kent returned from running errands to discover her husband and the boy alone in the master bedroom. A few days later Elijah and Jason were sent back to the Lamont Group Home where Mr. Betts was the director. The twins walked down the linoleum tiled hallway of the facility to the bedroom they shared with two other boys. Their roommates Keith and Shorty weren’t in the dormitory-style room; the brothers could talk in privacy. “Sulla’gair’teyay’a’hawta Mr. Betts?” Jason asked Elijah in a language only the two boys understood. (“You’re not going to do it to Mr. Betts, are you?”). It was a plea more than a question. “I don’t know…” Elijah shrugged. They didn’t have a name for what they were talking about, but someone with a more developed vocabulary might call it “enticing” or “bewitching.” Jason sighed. Living at the Kent house had been safe and easy. The Kents had leased the eight acres of property surrounding the house in the San Joaquin Valley to a farmer who grew almonds and pistachios, but the children were free to wander and play in the orchards. Elijah had conscripted his foster brothers and sister to build a fort in a large fig tree that abutted an irrigation ditch. Jason and the other children had scrounged or stolen materials and furnishings for the oversized tree house, and had even buried a series of extension cords running from the garage to the structure to provide electricity. Elijah told tales of a coming war and the need for a fortress from which the children could fight. Even the older boys, 14 and 15 year old Ben and Tyler, had bought into the narrative Elijah was forging. Jason grieved for the fort and the coming war – it felt as if that episode of the twins’ life had ended too abruptly. CHAPTER 2: BALTIMORE Dr. Dennis Cornell looked at Isaac’s test results again, as if to assure himself that he was reading the data correctly. It was impossible. He’d run the tests three times and gotten the same outcome. The boy’s resting body temperature was 96.2 degrees and his hyperoxygenated blood contained unknown antigens – he couldn’t be typed as an A, B or O. Cornell picked up his phone, a landline still tethered by a curly cord. “Samuel! Its Dennis Cornell. Yes! Long time. Listen, I have a really unusual case. Twelve year old boy, healthy by all outward appearances, but his antigens and body temperature are way out of whack.” Cornell listened for a few moments then described the test results. “Chromosomal mutation. I guess that makes sense. Yes, I’ll order more tests.” Cornell hung up the phone and wrote a note on his desktop pad. The exceptional interest he’d taken in the boy had led to these startling discoveries. He couldn’t figure out why he’d been so passionate about analyzing Isaac; perhaps it was his unusual appearance. Isaac’s mother had been African American – the boy’s full lips and large nostrils pointed to that heritage. But the singular hair and skin color, and the gold-flecked eyes must have come from the father. Isaac’s twin brother Griffin, with his dark skin and tight, curly hair, obviously took after his mother. The size difference between the twins was also a curiosity. The few medical notes about the boys’ mother, who had died in child-birth, didn’t mention anything about a large stature. There was nothing about the boys’ father in the notes. Cornell picked up the phone again. “Caroline, can we get a battery of chromosomal tests for the Wilson boy?” Six days later, Dr. Cornell received an e-mail from the lab with a warning in the header: Results Appear Erroneous – Resubmitting Blood Samples For Testing Cornell read the e mail: Dear Dr, Cornell, We are subjecting the blood samples A-1199FF to retesting as most of the results have fallen outside the data gamut. It is possible the blood you submitted was tainted, combined with another substance, or animal blood. Please check your chain of custody on the blood samples. We will have new results in two days. I have attached the current results with anomalies highlighted in yellow. Regards, Dr. Betty Pham BioZine Testing Labs Cornell looked over the PDF attached to the email. Each page was splashed with neon yellow strips of highlighted text and data denoting the suspicious results. The lab had detected 50 chromosomes, four more than normally found in a human, arrayed in an ordered but inverted pattern. Various genes which had no common alleles with any other human in the DNA database were highlighted. The doctor turned to the graph showing the boy’s ancestry. The pie chart showed a large portion of West African heritage, with smaller percentages of European and Native American antecedents. But half of the pie chart was grayed out with the caption: INDETERMINATE. A chill descended the Doctor’s spinal column. He knew the retesting would show the same results. The lab would then ask for new blood samples. Cornell was sure they would come back with an identical outcome. A knot of apprehension and excitement grew in the center of his chest. Isaac was special. Very special. He pictured the boy’s face with its bronze skin, golden eyes and thick variegated hair that fell over his face in gentle ringlets. Issac was attractive and unusual, but there was also something about him that the Doctor couldn’t pinpoint. Then Cornell pictured the boy in a hermetically sealed clear plastic room surrounded by scientists and doctors in hazmat suits, arriving at the boy’s hospital bed through translucent inflated tunnels. He knew he was just imagining a scene from “E.T.,” but if Isaac’s secret were to be discovered, he would become a guinea pig for the scientific community, the medical community and perhaps even the government. The doctor picked up his phone. “Caroline, please call BioZine Labs and cancel the testing for the Wilson boy. Yes… tell them I made a mistake. I submitted contaminated blood.” CHAPTER 3: TEHRAN “Aunt Yasmin!” the boy rushed into the small house hopping with excitement, followed by his larger twin brother. “Agha Farhad is coming by this evening!” “Malak!” The boy’s aunt said with reverence in her voice. The boy hated the pet name his aunt had given him but kept quiet. His name was not Malak, which simply meant “Angel.” It was Danyal. But Aunt Yasmin had never called him by his given name, choosing to refer to him as an angel instead. And she meant it literally. It was a source of embarrassment for Danyal, especially because Aunt Yasmin never called his twin brother an angel. Yasmin smiled. She knew they would be eating well for the next week. Agha Farhad was a wealthy man who owned a chain of supermarkets in Tehran. When he appeared at the doorstep of the family home he always bore a few large boxes of groceries. Yasmin imagined what would be in the box tonight: lamb shanks, chicken, rice, fresh vegetables, canned soup and sweets. Her twelve year old nephew Danyal had become a protege of Farhad, spending each Sunday at his office learning the “business of running a business.” The boy’s twin brother Eskandar always accompanied Danyal, but had little interest in learning about the business. He spent the time playing games on one of the computers in at the grocery store headquarters, but did step away to guard the door of Agha Farhad’s office when Danyal and the man went in to talk about private things. The larger boy was not as bright or outgoing as his smaller twin brother, but was perceptive enough to know that behind the closed door of the private office there was more going on than talking. He guessed it involved naughty things, but didn’t have the knowledge or experience to imagine what those “naughty things” could be. But behind the office door, the younger twin brother was experienced and knowledgeable. “Farhad!” he had whispered to his mentor that Sunday morning. “My penis has been thinking about you all week!” Danyal pulled his track pants down to reveal his erection. The man licked his lips without thinking and looked at the boy. He was gorgeous, more gorgeous than Farhad’s beautiful wife had been the night they consummated their marriage. Farhad picked up his iPhone and took a picture of the boy. Danyal only came to the office once a week – Agha Farhad would need the pictures for the days between visits. Farhad examined at the picture he’d just taken. The slim twelve year old stood smiling, facing the camera with his royal blue track pants around his thighs. His thick, straight hair was a color Farhad couldn’t name – was it brown? Blonde? Red? It seemed to be all of those at the same time. The boy’s tawny skin could almost be described as caramel, but it was his golden eyes that Farhad had noticed the first time he’d seen the boy in the supermarket on Azadi Square. Farhad inspected the boy’s hard penis in the picture. It stood straight with a gentle upward curve and a flared head which looked moist and shiny. The boy’s groin appeared hairless, but the man knew that tiny hairs crowned the base of the impeccable appendage. “Come to me,” the man requested. The track pants around Danyal’s thighs caused him to waddle as he approached Farhad, and his erection swung from side to side. Farhad gripped the boy’s penis then knelt and took it into his mouth, pulling the boy’s pants to the floor. Before he met Danyal, the man had not been with a boy since he was a boy himself, first being the passive partner in anal sex, then the active partner as he grew older. The strict segregation of sexes in Iranian society incited boys to experiment with each other. Young boys would be penetrated, but as they grew in strength and size they would become the penetrators until they married and could turn their sexual energies to their spouses. To enjoy being penetrated as a teenager or adult was unmasculine and sinful, though it was understood that a man might enjoy the bottom of a boy even after he was married. Oral sex was never performed among the boys – that was a practice of the kooni, the homosexuals. Between visits by Danyal, Farhad wondered how he had come to adopt the acts of the homosexual – taking the boy’s penis in his mouth and swallowing his seed. But as soon as he was in the presence of Danyal, Farhad’s lust took over and he felt compelled to partake in those carnal acts he once loathed. The man pulled his mouth off of Danyal’s hard, wet erection. Today he wanted to watch the boy’s penis expel its sweet nectar while he was being fucked. Farhad pulled the boy’s shirt off and looked at the naked boy – his flawless caramel skin and hard, eager penis caused the man to tremble. Farhad’s own penis felt trapped in his trousers as it expanded to its maximum dimensions. “Sit on the couch,” the man instructed. He stepped to his desk to retrieve a small tube of lubricant and looked at the boy, who slouched on the sofa with his legs splayed and his erection pointing to the ceiling. The man knelt between the boys’ spread legs and pulled his own trousers and underwear down to his knees, then spread the lube on his long, hard penis. Farhad pushed the boy’s legs up to his shoulders. Danyal’s bottom was beautiful – smooth and round and just a little bigger than one would expect on a boy his age. The boy’s erection pointed toward his tight abdomen which showed the signs of an emerging six-pack. Farhad took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the beautiful tableau. Gripping his own hard cock, he directed it between the boy’s soft buttocks, rubbing it up and down the boy’s crack until he found the entrance to his insides. Farhad gave a slight push, and the opening gave way, admitting his taut, lube-slick penis. The boy’s tight, warm tunnel enveloped the man’s member and sent sparks of bliss through its multiple never endings. Farhad had never felt this kind of pleasure when he was mounting his wife, even when she was young and beautiful. “Agha Farhad!” the boy whispered. “Deeper!” etiler escort The man increased the frequency and force of his thrusts and the sweet sensations in his groin began to build up. He looked at the boy’s erect cock and tight ball sack and felt glad the boy was so turned on, but Farhad was more interested in his own pleasure. Danyal suppressed a moan; his cock convulsed and without being touched it shot a few jets of watery semen over his stomach and chest. The view of the boy’s release, which had been generated solely by the feel of the man’s cock up his ass, was too much for Farhad; he was unable to hold back the torrent and discharged his seed deep into the boy’s insides as the force and speed of his thrusting reached its apex. The man fell onto Danyal and felt the wetness of the boy’s semen-covered body against his own as both bodies heaved for breath. “I’ll come by your house tonight,” Farhad whispered to the boy. “Tell your aunt Yasmin.” Danyal knew a bounty of food would accompany Farhad’s visit. In the aftermath of the passionate lovemaking, Farhad felt both lucky and guilty. To have such a boy as a sexual plaything was a rare delicacy. But God had forbidden the acts that Danyal and Farhad committed together. The man wondered how God could have created such a wonderful and beautiful boy, one who was so willing and enthusiastic, and not allow the boy to please a man. But the wealthy store owner had no idea that he was but one of several men who had taken an intense interest in Danyal. As if by instinct, the boy had imprinted himself on each man, using his beguiling, boyish sexuality to forge a bond that was thrice as strong as a normal human connection – it was the bond of two lovers, of father and son, of tutor and apprentice. CHAPTER 4: BAKERSFIELD “Elijah?… Elijah?” The boy awoke to his name being whispered into his ear. He opened his eyes. It was still dark, but enough light came from the crack beneath the bedroom door that Elijah could see Mr. Betts leaning over him in his bed. When the man saw that the boy’s eyes were open he continued. “Will you please come to my office? It’s important.” Mr. Betts always left the group home between 5:00 and 6:00 pm, so it was unusual to see him there at 3:00 am. But Elijah wasn’t surprised. The twelve year old followed the group home director down the linoleum hallway still dressed in the baby blue boxer briefs and white tank top he had worn to bed. Betts closed his office door and motioned for the boy to sit in a chair facing his desk, then took a deep breath. “I’m not even sure why…” the man stopped, than started again. “I woke up an hour ago with the feeling that… that you needed me. Or that you were in danger.” Betts shook his head and looked down at his desk. He felt embarrassed that he’d woken the boy up in the middle of the night based on a dream or premonition. The boy didn’t say anything, but arose and climbed onto the plastic seat of the institutional chair that faced Betts’ desk. Elijah stood with his arms spread wide and his palms facing the director of the group home, then slowly rotated his body in place, completing a full circle and returning to his original position standing on the chair. Betts felt something like a hot fireplace poker piercing his sternum. Watching the boy turn his body around like a rotating wristwatch display filled his consciousness with an endorphin rush of emotions. The boy’s slim body intrigued him like no male body had before. Betts wondered what the baby blue boxer briefs hid – the mounds of the boy’s buttocks and the bulge at his groin were like mysteries that needed to be solved. The man shook his head, trying to dispel the images. These inappropriate thoughts were shameful, especially for a man who had taken so much pride in his professional standing. Betts thought about his wife and children – he loved them, and knew they would be appalled by the improper feelings which had intruded into his consciousness. The man collected himself, then looked up to the boy and spoke. “Elijah.” The boys’ gold eyes looked directly into the man’s. Betts felt tears building behind his eyes. He tried to remember the name of the French novelist that broke out crying every time he viewed a beautiful painting. Stendhal – that was it. Betts felt powerless against the magnetic pull of the beautiful and extraordinary child. He left his desk and approached the boy who was still standing on the plastic and chrome chair with his arms outspread. “It’s an invitation,” Betts thought to himself. He embraced the boy and buried his face in Elijah’s chest, then exploded in tears. Elijah began to rub the man’s shoulders and back, as if to soothe the crying man. Betts became acutely aware of the boy’s erection poking into his midsection just above his stomach. He leaned away from Elijah and looked at the tented blue boxer-briefs. The boy looked down at Betts and thrust his hips toward the man in a gentle, playful motion. Betts was filled with glowing desire – he had to see the mysterious appendage. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the baby blue boxer briefs and pulled down, revealing the boy’s hard penis. Its slight upward curve and flared head were crowned with a few wisps of barely visible hair. The man noticed that the tip was moist, and experienced a fascinated attraction, as if he was being drawn toward it like a barge being pulled boy a tugboat. At that moment he was a spectator, watching his own body do things he hadn’t willed it to do. His hand caressed the boy’s testicles, soft and pliant in their hairless sack, then his torso leaned in and his mouth engulfed the erect penis. Betts had never tasted cock, and was astonished by how natural it felt, as if the boy’s penis had been sized perfectly to fit his mouth. The warm, moist intimacy of the act was so agreeable to the man that he felt he’d misused his life up until now. “45 years without a cock in my mouth… what a waste!” he thought. Betts increased the intensity and suction of the oral act, and the boy began to hump his face. The man put his hands on the boy’s buttocks and pulled him even deeper, as if to make up for a lifetime of missed blow jobs. And then it happened. Betts knew it would. The boy’s body stiffened and his rigid cock pulsed, then delivered several jets of warm, viscous liquid. Betts swallowed it without consideration. Mr. Betts was not sexually adventurous, and had never tasted his own semen, let alone that of another male. The sweetness and complexity of the boy’s seed surprised him – he knew he would need more. Inside Betts’ body, Elijah’s semen initiated a series of chemical reactions, flooding the receptors in his brain with dopamine and altering his hormonal balance. Over time the thin seed of the boy would lead to craving and dependence. And though Betts was unaware of it at the time, he would never again feel sexual desire for a woman. Elijah looked down at Betts from his standing position on the chair. “Let me do you now,” the boy said. Betts was surprised but willing. He could think of nothing else he wanted more at that moment. The boy stepped off the chair and unsnapped the man’s trousers, and again Betts felt like an observer, as if his body had gone into autopilot mode as it made love to a twelve year old boy. Elijah pulled Mr. Betts’ cock out of his underwear and ran his small hand along its length, caressing it like a tiny newborn puppy. Betts felt moments away from spurting; the boy sensed this and backed off, rubbing the sparse pubic hair on the man’s lower abdomen. Then the boy guided the man’s erect cock into his mouth. Betts took in a deep gulp of air. The women he’d been with had never delivered this kind of pleasure. Elijah’s tongue danced on the underside of the man’s penis, then the boy pushed forward, taking Betts’ cock into his throat as deep as it could go. The man looked down to see the boy’s face pressed tight against his abdomen; he’d engulfed the entire length of Betts’ average sized penis. Elijah’s golden eyes looked up at Betts and then the boy giggled, as if to say “look at how far I got it in.” The man put his hands on the varicolored hair of the boy’s head – its softness reiterated to him how unusual and exceptional Elijah was. Betts was struck with the feeling that he was experiencing a great honor; to be sucked by such a boy was a rare treasure. And the boy was adept with his mouth. Betts felt the torrent building and tried to hold it in, attempting to prolong the act that was delivering so much transcendent pleasure. And then the damn burst and his penis expelled its pent up juices. The boy swallowed it all, and when Betts withdrew his deflating cock from the boy’s face the cool air of the room caused him to shake. Betts grabbed the boy and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. He felt like he could cry again, but held it in. Man and boy stood in a tight embrace for several moments with their bodies pressed against each other and then the boy spoke… “A war is coming,” Elijah said, just above a whisper. “Will you fight with me?” CHAPTER 5: BALTIMORE Dr. Cornell’s phone rang twice before he picked it up. “Hello?” he said into the old fashioned receiver connected to the telephone with a curly cord. “Dr. Dennis Cornell?” The voice on the other end of the line was slow and clear, like a foreign language instructor teaching a class of beginners. “Speaking,” Cornell answered. The voice continued, unhurried and precise like before: “I’m Dr. Severin from HHS in D.C. I understand you have a boy with some unusual genetic markers. I’m currently doing a study on children with chromosomal mutations similar to your boy’s.” Cornell was silent for a few seconds, then responded. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients.” “Dr. Cornell – the department of Health and Human Services has a justified interest in these mutations we’re seeing in kids. It would be in everyone’s best interest if you were to allow the boy to take part in our study,” Severin replied. Cornell felt a wave of fear vibrating through his body. Only he and the genetics lab knew about the unusual test results. BioZine must have alerted HHS. But Isaac was Dr. Cornell’s special project, one he felt the need to protect, like a jealous boyfriend whose girl was getting DMs from strangers on her Instragram. “Alright, Dr. Severin. I’ll speak to the boy and his mother and see if they’re interested in being part of your research.” It was a lie, but it got Severin off the phone. Across the street from the 1970s style glass and concrete medical building where Dr. Cornell practiced, a large black SUV idled. In the back seat, Severin ended the phone call and turned to the man sitting next to him. “He’s not going to give the boy up,” Severin announced. “He said he’d talk to the boy and his mother.” Severin emphasized the word “mother.” Though they didn’t know the boy’s name, both men knew that he would be an orphan. Severin’s colleague, a tall, thin man with auburn hair, shrugged. “The boy obviously has a hold on Cornell. He won’t be able to go more than a couple days without seeing the kid.” “We’ll take turns doing the surveillance” Severin said. “You and I will do twelve on, and Henley’s team can do twelve off. But I need to be the one who does completion.” The thin man with auburn hair nodded but didn’t say anything. Just after 6:00 pm that evening Dr. Cornell left the medical building. He had felt uneasy since the call from Health and Human Services, and had a gnawing need to check in on his unusual patient. Cornell had no idea a large black SUV was following his silver Lexus sedan as he pulled out of the underground car park and headed to the Rosemont neighborhood, where Isaac and his brother lived with their grandmother. Isaac and Griffin sat at the front window of MeMaw Wilson’s apartment waiting for Dr. Cornell to arrive. They knew he’d have two small bags of Asian snack mix with wasabi dried peas – one bag for each of them. They’d grown to love the salty, spicy treat since first visiting the doctor a month earlier. Cornell parked on the street two doors down from the red brick row house that contained the boys’ apartment. It was the closest spot he could find, and he was a little worried about the Lexus being unattended in this neighborhood. But the urgency he felt outweighed his concern for the car. “Dr. Cornell!” The larger, darker skinned brother Griffin came bounding out the building’s door yelling. He was ten paces ahead of his smaller twin. Cornell reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two packets of snack mix just as Isaac reached him. Both boys wore black shorts, oversized white t-shirts and flip-flops. Cornell admired Isaac’s slender physique and shapely legs. “MeMaw is making mac and cheese with ham,” Isaac announced. “Are you staying for dinner?” “That’s up to your grandmother,” Cornell answered, though he already knew she’d say yes. Severin and the man with auburn hair watched the interaction from the back seat of their black vehicle down the street. When the boy with the stunning hair and eyes approached Dr. Cornell the two men exchanged glances but remained silent. Twenty minutes later, just as Dr. Severing was watching Mrs. Wilson put dinner on the table the doorbell chimed. The larger twin sprang up from the table to answer the door. From his seat at the table, Cornell looked across the modest living room with apprehension. Griffin attached the security chain and opened the door. He spoke to the visitor through the crack, but Cornell couldn’t see or hear what was going on. When Griffin closed the door Dr. Cornell exhaled with relief, but the feeling changed to mild panic when he saw that the boy was removing the security chain and opening the door wide. Two men in suits and ties stepped into the living room. The taller man was well-tailored and fashionable, but the shorter, older man looked plain and unstylish. “Dr. Cornell, your friends are here,” Griffin announced. Cornell felt a penetrating urge to grab Isaac and run out of the room. “Dr. Cornell,” the shorter man said. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.” Cornell recognized the slow, steady speech pattern of Dr. Severin, the man he’d talked to on the phone that afternoon. Severin continued. “I’ve been authorized by the INR to take the boy into my care.” Cornell noticed that the other man had taken a wide legged, semi-crouched stance like a martial arts fighter about to begin a match. The man’s eyes were fixed on the larger twin brother. The tension was breached by Griffin screaming. “Hesh ta’ana!” The golden twin rolled under the table as his larger brother launched himself at the tall man, who warded off the boy’s advance with a quick forearm parry. Griffin was knocked to the floor but charged the man again, yelling words which only Isaac understood. “Sa’gigrah’seepo Isaac!” Griffin screamed as he came in low, avoiding the well-dressed man’s roundhouse kick and directing the top of his skull into the man’s groin. The tall man doubled over in pain but Griffin was unrelenting, clawing at the man’s neck with his fingernails. MeMaw Wilson shrieked as the frenzied boy bit into the tall man’s cheek and ripped the flesh from the side of his face, taking the man’s ear and a large flap of skin. The boy reached for the man’s eyeballs with his thumbs. “CRAAAK!!” A gunshot etimesgut escort reverberated in the small apartment and Griffin fell to the floor. The stunned onlookers, deafened by the ear-splitting sound, didn’t hear the thud of his body. Severin pointed the gun toward the table where Dr. Cornell and the boys’ grandmother sat suspended in horror. A small column of smoke drifted toward the ceiling from the barrel of the weapon. “Shit!” Severin whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.” Two quick, precise shots dispatched Dr. Cornell and MeMaw Wilson, filling the room with more flinty gunsmoke. Severin crouched to look under the table. Isaac knelt facing the man and looked into his eyes. The man was held captive by the boy’s gaze. His breath caught in his windpipe, overwhelmed by the unusual beauty of the twelve year old. Isaac held his arms toward the man with his palms out, as if he were offering himself. His long white t-shirt covered most of his mid section like the gown of an angel and his multicolored curly locks crowned his head like a halo. Severin closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to wake from a daydream. “No,” he said just above a whisper. “No!” This time louder. He thought about his own grandchildren. The future should belong to them. The man raised the gun toward the boy and fired. CHAPTER 6: TEHRAN Yasmin looked at her twelve year old nephew the same way she had looked at him every day of his life, with fear and reverence. She thought back to her younger sister Daria, the boy’s mother. Daria had been 15 when she got pregnant with the twins. To have sex with a boy would have been almost impossible due to the restrictions in the conservative Shiite household; the sisters were close enough that Yasmin knew that Daria had never been with a man or boy. Yasmin thought it was a miracle, a gift from God. After all, the Holy Quran said that Maryam had given birth to the prophet Jesus while remaining a virgin; perhaps God had done the same to Daria. But the expectant mother had been dubious and had trouble believing in miracles. “Perhaps the water in the public bathing house was contaminated with the seed of a man,” she told her older sister. Males and females were strictly segregated in the swimming hall – women were allowed 90 minutes of swimming time each day after the indoor pool area was cleared of men and boys, and Daria was an avid swimmer. The memories of her younger sister caused Yasmin to exhale deeply. She rarely thought about that horrible day when Daria gave birth. The expectant 15 year old had been able to hide her pregnancy from everyone except Yasmin by wearing a heavy black chador at all times. The girl had claimed a new-found religious fervor compelled her to dress in the modest garment that covered her from head to foot – this pleased the girls’ stern and devout father. Daria told Yasmin that knew she was carrying a son, and had already told Yasmin she would name him Danyal. When the contractions began, Daria and Yasmin had no plan. The idea that they could deliver the baby and hide it from father hadn’t been thought out – they just knew it was a necessity. When it was time for the baby to come out, Yasmin was surprised and horrified by the amount of blood that poured out of her sister; By the time Daria passed out and turned ashy white, Yasmin knew she had to get help. When he entered the sisters’ bedroom it took a few moments for father to understand what was going on . Yasmin had told him only that Daria needed urgent help. “Anqudr bezirgu ast!” he screamed. The baby was halfway out of the unconscious girl. The father had never delivered a baby, but knew what he had to do, and pulled the infant by its head and shoulders. He held the baby up, still connected by the umbilical cord. “It’s a boy! A big, big boy!” The infant’s dusky skin and black hair looked like that of its grandfather and mother. Father took a knife his jacket pocket and severed the umbilical cord then held the baby against his shirt. “I will call you Eskandar,” he said just above a whisper. It was his own name, and would be the name of his first grandson. Yasmin rushed to her sister who had been motionless during the delivery. She felt for a pulse on Daria’s wrist and found none. Frantic, she pressed her fingers onto her sister’s throat, hoping to find the beat of life, but it wasn’t there. Her eyes teared up but she was afraid to weep openly. Yasmin reached for a blanket to cover her younger sister; even in death she deserved modesty. Then she saw it. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks. The severed umbilical cord which protruded from her sister’s birth canal was moving. At an almost imperceptible pace, it retracted into her body like it was being reeled in. Yasmin peered between her sisters legs. “Father! There’s another baby!” But that was twelve years ago. Yasmin shook her head to clear the bad memories and looked at Danyal. Twelve years later he still looked like like the angelic second baby her father had pulled from her sister. His wide-set golden eyes sparkled like diamond dust the same way they had the day he was born with eyes open, looking around the room of his birth as if he knew where he was. “I’ll miss you, Malak,” Yasmin sighed, adding faux sorrow to each syllable to let the boy know he was loved. “And you, Eskandar. Take care of your brother.” She didn’t know why it was necessary for the boys to take the trip to Gilan Gharb, far west of the city, almost to the border of Iraq. Agha Farhad said they would be scouting locations for a new supermarket, but surely he didn’t need two twelve year old boys for such a task. Yasmin didn’t know that Agha Farhad and the boys would be accompanied by eleven other men on their trip westward, traveling in a caravan of trucks and recreational vehicles. Nor did she know that her Malak, her angel, was the one who had initiated the travel. It was to be the first step in a long journey to Jerusalem. CHAPTER 7: BAKERSFIELD The Junior Senator from California looked at the house. “Are you sure this is it?” he asked his Chief of Staff as their black SUV pulled up the driveway. The building looked like a large, single story ranch house, long and low, but unremarkable in any other way. A small crowd of adults and boys stood in front of the building. Red, white and blue bunting had been hung from the eaves. The Chief of Staff answered, “Yes, Senator. I know it seems unusual, but the director of the Lamont Group Home donated $200,000 to your reelection fund. This will only take an hour. You just have to declare it ‘Lamont Group Home Day’ in Kern County.” Senator Perez nodded his head. Both men were used to the principle activity of a US Senator: raising campaign money. The men didn’t know that the campaign donation money had been the result of embezzlement. By the time the crime was discovered it wouldn’t matter. The Senator, his Chief of Staff, and an aide stepped out of the vehicle and were greeted by a man with mousy brown hair and a gray suit. “Senator Perez! I’m Simon Betts, the director of the Lamont Group Home.” Perez shook Betts’ hand but his attention was elsewhere. Among the group of kids standing silently looking at him was one boy who stood out, as if a spotlight had been directed at him from above. The boy’s unusual hair and skin color were unlike that of any of the children standing around him. The child looked at the Senator and the man felt a novel sensation, as if the boy’s eyes were penetrating the skin of his public persona and examining his private self. Perez closed his eyes and looked away. A thought intruded: “Get in the car and drive away.” Perez determined not to look at the boy again. The ceremony was short enough that the kids of the group home were able to hide their restlessness. As part of the morning’s agenda, Betts was to give the Senator and his party a tour of the facility. Perez looked interested and impressed as Betts showed him around the building, but inwardly he was bored. “Senator Perez,” Betts announced as they approached the bedroom wing. “We have one boy who’s quite a fan of yours. He wants to go into politics when he’s older. He’s made you a gift.” Then he added in little quieter voice, “He’s a bit shy. Do you mind talking to him for a couple minutes without all of us around?” “Not at all!” the Senator answered, anticipating a break from the boring tour. Betts led the group to the open door of a bedroom. “Elijah, this is Senator Perez. You two can talk. We’ll be right out in the hall.” Perez looked into the bedroom and felt a stab of apprehension. The unusual boy he’d seen earlier sat upright on his well-made bed with his hands folded in his lap. Perez entered the room but left the door open. His lifetime of campaigning had equipped him with the ability to talk to anyone in any situation. He sat on the opposite bed facing the boy. “So you want to get into politics?” Perez said with a friendly lift in his voice. “Yes! I can’t believe I’m talking to a real senator!” Perez’s breast swelled with pride. The boy’s golden eyes looked into his. Perez felt exposed, the same way he when he’d first seen the boy. “I have a present for you,” the boy said. “Well, I have to disclose every gift I get to the election commission!” Perez joked, assuming the boy would give him a drawing or hand-made craft. The boy held up a small iPhone and scrolled through it, then showed it to the Senator. The screen showed a photograph of the boy, facing the camera and standing naked. His erect penis curved slightly upward toward his belly, ending in a flaired head. Perez couldn’t look away. Aside from fleeting curiosity when he was a young teenager, he hadn’t thought of the male body in a sexual way. But this boy, with his slim, hairless physique and golden skin, caused blood to rush to his groin. Perez felt his mouth filling with saliva. He looked at the boys tight ball sack, round and full like an apricot, and wanted to lick it. “There are more on there,” the boy said extending his hand. “Take it.” The Senator snatched the phone and put it in his jacket pocket. On the drive back to L.A., the senator was quiet as he tried to make sense of the encounter. A mix of guilt, confusion and joy overwhelmed him. Adding to his angst and disorientation, he could feel the iPhone vibrating in his jacket pocket as it received texts. He didn’t dare look at it in front of his staff, but when he got into the hotel room in Santa Monica he yanked it from his pocket and read. Eli: You felt it too Eli: I just met you and I already miss you Eli: I made a Spotify playlist for you Perez clicked on the Spotifly link and the tinny iPhone speaker began to stream a Coldplay song. It was one of Perez’s favorites. How could the boy know? Perez dug through his suitcase to find his headphones, then lay on the hotel bedspread to listen to the playlist. While the songs streamed, he scrolled through the photos on the phone. There were 24 pictures of the boy and nothing else. A couple of the pictures were selfies with cute Snapchat filters, a few were clothed, but most were naked and sexual. The music soared and descended, becoming the soundtrack to the intensely emotional experience as he stared at the pictures: Elijah with his erection thrust at the camera; Elijah with his legs pulled up and a finger in his ass; Elijah licking a thin dribble of semen from his hand. Perez replied to the boy’s texts. SP: I can’t stop thinking about this morning. I need to talk to you. Eli: Come tonight Eli: The world is ours CHAPTER 8: WASHINGTON DC Dr. Stewart Severin spoke in slow, measured tones as he addressed the room, “We’ve found six of them, but we don’t know how many more are out there.” A younger man in a white shirt and gray tie raised his hand and started speaking before Severin could start his next sentence. “According to our intel, the Chinese have eliminated 58 of them. If you’ve read the report, you’ll know that their armed forces went door to door and searched every household in the country, so 58 sets is a good estimate of how many there were. Based on China’s population, that’s one set of twins for every 20 million people. If we have the same percentage in the US, that would mean 15 or 16 sets were born here.” The Vice President finally spoke up. “15 twelve-year-old boys. I understand everyone’s concern, but how much damage can 15 boys do?” Severin looked at the Vice President and spoke. “You’re from Tennessee. You know about Kudzu. 100 years ago someone sold a few seedlings at a garden expo in New Orleans.” Severin didn’t have to explain further. The Vice President was well versed on Kudzu, the creeping Japanese vine that had invaded over 2 million acres of land in the Southern United States. Every year the vines conquered another 150,000 acres, choking out native forests, pastures and farmlands. Dr. Severin turned back to the others in the room and continued, lowering his voice. “Unfortunately, it looks like eradication is the only way to deal with the problem.” Several men interrupted, disturbed by the brutal solution Severin had offered; the room burst into excited conversation. “The US Government can’t just start a program to assassinate children!” the Head of Homeland Security bellowed. Severin looked at the man for a few seconds, then continued in his slow, clear speaking style. “We’ve identified six boys. Two were killed during the attempt to apprehend. And where are the other four?” He looked at the Head of Homeland Security, but answered the question himself. “Four boys were able to convince their guards to release them from confinement. Four boys in four different institutions were able to ‘cast a spell’ and walk free.” Severin turned to a heavy-set man with a thin beard. “Dr. Rendell. You were able to examine one of the boys for several weeks. Please tell us what you discovered.” “Uhh.. it’s in the reports you should all have,” Rendell dissembled. Just talking about the boy made him uncomfortable. He missed Benjamin. He felt an erection coming on just thinking about the boy’s ass. “Please give us a synopsis,” Severin asked. He knew that politicians rarely read the reports they were given. Rendell began, “Besides the boy’s unusual appearance, his physiology differed markedly from an average human being. His hyperoxygenated blood gave him superior strength and endurance. His red and white blood cells were aggressive in fighting off pathogens – basically, this was a boy that would never experience the effects of illness or disease. His genetic makeup was half human and half… something else.” The men in the room started to murmur amongst each other. Rendell continued. “The boy gnawed off a hand to get out of his restraints the first time he escaped. When he was recaptured ten days later a small, semi-formed hand was growing in place of the missing hand. Five weeks later his fully formed hand was indistinguishable from the hand he had been born with. There wasn’t even a scar.” A young man in a navy blue suit interjected. “These all sound like good things. Wouldn’t it be advantageous to get their genetic stock into the human race?” Severin answered for Rendell, “Perhaps. But we don’t know where the non-human half of these boys’ DNA comes from. Did aliens land on earth and impregnate women all over the world? Did the earth pass through the tail of a comment that was seeded with galactic genetic etlik escort material? We have no idea.” The unusual sets of twins had all been born within three weeks of each other. Severin had developed a theory that the boys were conceived at the same instant, that a long dormant recessive DNA combination had somehow triggered the germination of the remarkable twins. Another person with the same information might have attributed it to God, or aliens, but Severin was a skeptic. He was sure, however, that the genetic makeup of each golden-eyed twin was superior to that of a normal human, and left unchecked, that DNA would lead to the obliteration of the human race. A tall man with side-parted gray hair stood to address the room. “These boys aren’t the product of alien encounters. This world belongs to them.” The room went quiet for a few seconds then Dr. Severin spoke. “Senator Perez? do you have some information the rest of us aren’t privy to?” Perez answered, “Dr. Severin. These boys are just the next step. The same way that humans replaced the hominids before us, these boys will replace us.” Severin replied immediately with an edge of irritation in his voice. “We’re not going to let that happen.” Senator Perez remained standing and swept his eyes across the room, assessing each member of the committee. He’d counted heads when the meeting started; there were eight other men in the room. His magazine held ten rounds, so he’d have to make each shot count. He knew the well-dressed man with auburn hair and a large bandage on his head would be armed – that man would have to go first. No one outside the room heard the eight bursts of gunfire – the secure, sound proof chamber beneath the Senate Office Building had been designed to evade listening devices and eavesdroppers. The Senator left the room and passed through the two doors of the airlock. The secret service agents on the Vice President’s detail were standing outside the entrance to the secure chamber looking bored. “Bathroom break,” Perez said, as he mounted the stairway to the underground parking levels above. The tinted windows of his Lincoln Navigator hid the view of the passengers sitting in the back: two twelve year olds, one small and beautiful, the other large and powerful. Perez got into the drivers seat. Elijah spoke up, “What happened?” “Astri’somabal’sa’kayko’ya,” Perez answered in the twins’ private langauge. “I bought us some time.” CHAPTER 9: TEHRAN “Ayatollah!” Imam Talebi implored. “This is becoming a problem. In the last five days 60 men left their posts and went AWOL. They all headed west to Gilan Gharb. And they took vehicles and weapons with them.” The Ayatollah looked at Talebi. “Why are these soldiers running away to the border?” “They think prophet Jesus, son of Maryam dwells there.” Talebi answered. The Ayatollah exploded. “Impossible! The Mahdi hasn’t revealed himself yet!” Talebi was as well versed in Shiite theology as the Ayatollah, and knew that the Mahdi, or “guided one” would appear in the end times just before the prophet Jesus arrived to usher in the divine Kingdom of Allah. “According to the intelligence services, the one they believe to be prophet Jesus is but a twelve year old boy.” The Ayatollah felt a moment of self-doubt and fear flash through his body. Perhaps prophet Jesus would appear as a small boy. Talebi continued. “The boy is leading a sex cult.” The fear and doubt left the Ayatollah as he raised his bushy eyebrows at Talebi. “The men are partaking in sodomy and other perversions with the boy they believe to be prophet Jesus,” Talebi said. “We captured one of his disciples and used enhanced interrogation techniques to get the truth.” The Ayatollah sighed. Between the proxy war in Yemen and the tensions in the north, he had few military resources to spare. “Pull a brigade from the northern border and have them quell this… blasphemy.” Five days later, the Ayatollah called in Imam Talebi for another consult. “I’ve been following the developments in the western province. The first three days sounded promising, but for the last two days I’ve heard nothing,” said the Ayatollah. Talebi looked at the floor as he spoke. “There have been some unfortunate developments.” The Ayatollah’s face flashed with anger. “Go on.” “Most of the Ahvaz brigade have joined the enemy. Those that didn’t were allowed to leave if they agreed to…” Talebi took a deep breath, “if they agreed to allow a physician in the blasphemers’ camp to sterilize them. I don’t know what happened to our men who refused sterilization.” The Ayatollah’s anger turned to shock and anxiety. “Have you debriefed any of the… ‘sterilized’ returnees?” Talebi answered, “They’ve just been brought to the capital. I’ll let you know what we find out as soon as I know.” The Ayatollah dismissed the imam. Four hours later Imam Talebi appeared before the Ayatollah again. From the imam’s blanched appearance the Ayatollah knew the news wouldn’t be good. “The group of blasphemers has grown to nine thousand,” Talebi began. “They believe the boy prophet Jesus, son of Maryam leads them, along with the Mahdi and the reincarnations of the old prophets: Ibrahim, Ismail, Yaqub, Musa – each has come back in the form of a boy. Our returned soldiers saw at least ten of these boys, these ‘prophets,’ whose eyes glowed like gold.” “Send in airstrikes. Obliterate them all,” the Ayatollah commanded. “Unfortunately, they are no longer in the country,” the Imam replied. The Ayatollah felt a mix of relief and apprehension. The problem belonged the the Iraqis now. CHAPTER 10: WASHINGTON DC “Jerusalem! Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” Jim Barlos asked Senator Perez. They stood just inside the open hatch of Barlos’ enormous private jet, a Boeing 747-8. The engines whirred as it idled on the runway at Reagan International and it’s lights reflected on the wet, dark tarmac.. “The world begins and ends in the Holy Land,” Perez answered. “Which boy thought of that? Barlos asked. Perez paused, then spoke. “Several of the boys suggested it. For the three major religions of the west, everything ends in Jerusalem.” Barlos nodded. He was currently the second richest man on earth, having been surpassed a few days ago by a French industrialist. But those rankings could change hourly. At the moment there was a three man race for wealthiest man in the world based on each billionaire’s value in the stock market. But none of that mattered to Barlos now. The world was entering a new phase. Eleven sets of twin boys were already aboard the jet, along with 28 adult men. Barlos and Perez looked down the steps, waiting for the final three passengers. A few seconds later a black Suburban pulled up at the foot of the boarding stairs. A stout man in a dress shirt with no tie or jacket got out of the drivers seat, followed by two mismatched boys who exited the back seat. Perez recognized the man from his appearances before congress. General Steven McCorkle was the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest ranking military officer in the country. The general climbed the steps, followed by the two twelve year old boys. He nodded at Perez and spoke, “The most wanted man in America.” Perez felt a strange sense of pride. He’d committed a horrific crime for the project, and had been able to evade the authorities for over a week thanks to the powerful men who protected him. Barlos and Perez shook the general’s hand, The two boys who followed McCorkle offered their hands as well. “I’m David,” said the smaller twin. The other boy just grunted “Damon” when he shook hands. “OK… off to Armageddon,” Barlos said. The men and boys laughed. The billionaire pulled the airplane door closed and retreated to the cockpit – he would be co-piloting the 747 on its flight to the Holy Land. A twelve year old with golden eyes sat in the jump seat behind the co-pilot. The boy leaned forward and put his arms around Barlos. “I owe you.” Barlos turned his head and kissed the boy on the lips. “I’ll think of some way for you to repay me, Zachary” he laughed. Zachary understood what Barlos meant. The boy’s sexual charms would be all that mattered to the billionaire now. Zach thought back over the past six months. It started last September – the boy had started thinking about men. The little factory in his groin had kicked into production, flooding his body with hormones and altering his brain chemistry. Soon after that Zachary understood why men had been fascinated with him all his life. Without being told, he knew he could use his sexual power to beguile those men, to recruit them for something important. He didn’t yet know what that important thing was, but he was compelled to follow through, to seduce men and use their connections to meet more powerful men. Unknown to Zachary at the time, there were 400 other boys on earth going through the same experience. Each boy was a twin, an undersized kid with an extraordinary and alluring appearance, protected by an oversized brother who acted as a bodyguard and defender. In the luxurious cabin behind the cockpit, Senator Perez and General McCorkle sat next to each other in soft leather swivel chairs drinking the cognac they’d discovered in the forward galley. Two golden-eyed boys, Elijah and David, sat across from them, talking to each other in hushed, excited tones. This was the first time many of the boys on the plane had met each other. Perez looked at Elijah, the one he considered his boy. A realization washed over him. The boy didn’t belong to him – he belonged to the boy, like a Rottweiler devoted to its master. Regardless, he and the other men and boys on the plane were now on a course that couldn’t be turned back. He looked around the interior of the cabin. Rich and powerful men conversed with beautiful twelve year olds; some held hands, others whispered to each other, their heads held close. The larger twin brothers on the jet were not in this cabin. They had gathered in the enormous master bedroom at the rear of the plane to play Nintendo Switch on the 98 inch flat screen. Like most twelve year olds, the conversations and company of adults held little interest for them. The cognac made General McCorkle talkative. He told Perez that he’d been in contact with his counterpart in Israel, Lev Laskov, the Chief of Staff of the Israel Defense Forces. Only one special set of twins were known to have been born in Israel, but the smaller boy, Natan, had been adept at building and consolidating power. A small but significant number of men in the military believed the boy was “Ha Mashiach,” the anointed one who would rebuild the temple and usher in the Messianic Age. Unknown to either man, other young “messiahs” from Asia, the Middle East and Africa were descending on Jerusalem at the same time. Some would arrive in private jets, others would arrive in convoys or caravans. Like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn, each boy was impelled to Israel by an innate biological drive. Perez basked in the warm comfort of the cognac and stared at Elijah sitting across from him. The boy’s slim, tan legs, were spread wide. The smooth, hairless thighs and shins were like ramps leading to his groin; the gray shorts he wore hid the object of Perez’s attention. Elijah’s golden eyes met the man’s dark eyes and held them for a few seconds. The boy stood up and unbuttoned his shorts, then dropped them to his ankles, pulling his black boxer briefs after them. His erection sprang upward with a perky bounce. The action was like a whistle signalling the start of a soccer game, releasing the coiled sexual tension that had filled the airplane. Other boys stood up and began to take off their clothes, The boy David, who had been sitting next to Elijah, stood and pulled at the buttons of General McCorkle’s dress shirt. Perez knelt in front of Elijah and engulfed the boy’s cock, savoring the warm, rigid appendage, A naked man stepped behind Elijah and pulled the boy’s t-shirt off over his head, then wrapped his arms around the boy’s chest and began nibbling at his neck. Perez recognized the man – he was a political enemy, the host of a popular right-wing news and opinion show on TV. Perez had despised Tanner Carlton’s botoxed face and spray tan in his previous life but now felt like they were brothers, united in giving and receiving pleasure from this astonishing child. Carlton knelt behind the preteen and nuzzled his ass, then plunged his tongue into the boy’s crack. Soon Perez and Carlton were taking turns riding the boy and getting oral pleasure from him. As Perez thrust his hard cock in and out of Elijah’s bottom he looked around the jet’s opulent cabin. An expanse of naked flesh writhed an erotic dance. Arms, legs, cocks, asses. heads, and tongues came together as bronze boys delivered orgasmic pleasures to their patrons. In the same way Julius Caesar used his inspirational speeches to motivate his legions, the boys used their sexual powers to motivate and instill loyalty for the upcoming battle. The orgy lasted for hours until each participant was spent and every pearldrop of viscous seminal fluid was depleted. But the plane still had half a night before arrival – enough time for the legions to sleep back their energy. CHAPTER 11: JERUSALEM Just after touchdown Perez looked out an oval window and felt an adrenaline surge of alarm – Israel Defense Force vehicles were rushing to surround the jet as it halted at the end of the runway. General McCorkle spoke, “If everything is going to plan, this is a welcoming committee,” The airport hadn’t allowed a civilian plane to land since 2001, but Israeli Chief of Staff Lev Laskov had made an exception for this particular jet. The IDF used the former Jerusalem International Airport as a miltary base and weapons depot, but today it would be the welcoming place for an honored delegation. Laskov watched a corporal drive an embarkation stairway up to the 747’s forward hatch and imagined Israel as a giant ovum, an egg waiting to be fertilized. The golden boys departing this plane would be like semen spewing out of a penis. Each boy was a sperm cell – a wiggling white organism rushing to inseminate the gamete. Inside the cockpit, Jim Barlos spoke over the PA system: “We hope you enjoyed your fight to Jerusalem, It’s a beautiful day, sunny, 72 degrees with a 12 mile an hour wind coming from the west. Thank you for flying Apocalypse Air.” Scattered laughter erupted throughout the airplane. The billionaire appeared at the forward end of the main cabin and unlatched the door. “Boys and Gentlemen, Fata viam invenient.” Only a few men on the plane recognized the latin phrase: “Fate will find a way.” The door swung open and the cabin was filled with sunlight. Barlos stepped out of the hatch and down the steps, followed by others. At the sight of the first boy leaving the plane, the Israeli soldiers standing outside their vehicles started to murmur in an excited buzz. Several dropped to their knees, overcome by the sight of the uncanny children. Elijah descended the jetway steps just behind David and set foot on the ground of the Holy Land. Though the clear March day was dry and temperate, he shivered in anticipation. Today would be the first day of occupation, the day they took the Temple Mount and soon the rest of Jerusalem, symbolically laying the cornerstone of the new temple. History would look at today as the last day of the reign of man and the first day of the reign of… Elijah stopped. “What do we even call ourselves?” he asked David. The other boy stopped and thought for a moment. “How about ‘The Ferocious Fuckbuddies?'” Both boys laughed. “I think we need something better for the history books,” Elijah said, more to himself than anyone else. END

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