Read Online Desecration: Antichrist Takes The Throne by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins - Free Book Online

What did you do?”
    “See? You are not so afraid of needles! That did not hurt.”
    “But what was it?”
    “It will help you calm down.”
    “I’m calm.”
    “You rest now.”
    The door shut.
    “How long take, Missah Moon?”
    “Not long. Don’t wait too long or he won’t be able to walk by himself.”
    “Okay. You help.”
    They returned.
    “Chang?”
    “Mmm?”
    “You come with us now?”
    “Who?”
    “Missah Moon and me.”
    “Who?”
    “You know Missah Moon.”
    “No, I-”
    “Come on now.”
    “I will not. . . take . . . the . . . mmm …”
    “Yes, you will.”
    “No, I’m …”
    The sound continued with the two men encouraging Chang to walk with them and his mumbling in Chinese and English about not wanting to, refusing.
    “Now, watch this,” Chang wrote. “The surveillance camera from the hallway picks up that they’re pretty much carrying me down the hall, and look what I’m doing! Crossing myself! I don’t even know where I got that! And look! Here, I’m pointing toward heaven! I know it’s impossible to prove what I was doing, since whatever they gave me made me forget even the conversation with my mother. And I can’t tell what words I’m trying to form there, but I had to be trying to say I was a believer!”
    The whole rest of the way, as Chang tied together the angles from various cameras all the way to the corridor leading to Building D, David watched as Walter Moon and Mr. Wong prodded Chang along. At some point a third man met them, carrying a camera. The boy wept, pointed, and tried to form words. Moon reassured the photographer and any onlookers that the boy was “all right. He’s okay. Just a little reaction to medication.”
    Most shocking was that indeed there was a surveillance camera in Building D, and by the time they got Chang there, he was unconscious, eyes shut, drooling, moaning. “Take cap off,” his father said. “Smooth hair.”
    A woman technician who looked Filipino fired up the device. “This boy, he is all right?” she said.
    “Fine,” Moon said. “What’s the region code for the United Asian States?”
    “Thirty,” the tech said, setting the implanter. “I worry that I might get into trouble for-”
    “Do you know who I am?”
    “Of course.”
    “I’m telling you to do your job.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The woman swabbed Chang’s lolling forehead with a tiny cloth and pressed the mechanism onto his skin, producing a loud click and whoosh. “Thank you,” Moon said. “Now be sure this place is ready for the lines in about an hour.”
    The technician left, and Mr. Wong and Mr. Moon took turns keeping Chang sitting up. “Thing wears off almost as fast as it goes to work,” Moon said.
    “Fix hair more,” Mr. Wong said, slapping Chang’s cheeks. “We get picture.”
    The photographer shot Chang with a digital camera. The boy came to, and his father held the camera before his face. “There!” Mr. Wong said. “Look at new employee, one of first to take mark!”
    Chang wobbled and pulled back, reaching for the camera and trying to focus on the picture. His shoulders drooped and he glared at his father, his face stony. When Mr. Wong and Mr. Moon stood him up, he said, “Where’s my hat?”
    He jammed it on and stood there until he regained his equilibrium. He said something to his father in Chinese. “I said, ‘What have you done?’” he wrote.
    “Someday you thank me,” Mr. Wong said. “Now we go somewhere, relax till interview.”
    “I remember just snatches of the argument from the apartment and my father injecting me,” Chang wrote. “I have a vague recollection of the flash of the camera and being angry at my father. After that, I only remember sitting awhile in a side room with Moon and my father and slowly realizing that I had been given the mark of loyalty. I wanted to kill them, but I was also embarrassed. I worried what you would think. I was still out of it for the first part of our meeting, but then I decided to