The Mystic or Mathematician – Part II

All at once a war was simmering low in the back of her mind.
Magda coughed and the hazy imagery swam, dissipating before she could get a good look at it.
Lowering the hand holding the cigarette, she closed her eyes, concentrating.
She held onto the dreamlike memory as gently as she could, allowing it to swell and shrink, not wanting to force it into a false solidity.
Slowly she saw the war stretch red and smoking before her.

The war had lasted 40 years, indiscriminate in its cruelty.
It swarmed through the continents, haunted and hungry for suffering, growing louder and stronger and more vicious before running completely out of energy and collapsing into an echoing void.
Shadows of the smell, the feeling of dryness in the air, the taste of unknown gases descending on every inch of breathable air.
The sound was the most vivid part of the memory.
The whistling of death coming.
The quiet, the awfulness of being completely unprotected.
The whisper of vaporized bones floating on a hot wind, covering those left alive in grime.

The old woman dry-heaved but her stomach was empty.

A montage of newspaper headlines flashed next.

Woman calling herself “The Prophet” predicts 40 year war
Watchdog Bill passed:  All phone lines placed under surveillance
All non-domestic trade halted
The Prophet:  Mystic or Mathematician?
Last satellite destroyed last night, 3:21am
President Roth declares state of “communication emergency”
The Prophet rumored to be in hiding following attacks on Her supporters
Underground supporters of The Prophecy rally outside the White House; The Prophet was not among them
Internet blackouts extend into North America
They Struck First:  US retaliates by targeting confirmed nuclear testing site
Who is The Prophet?
The end is coming.

Magda breathed desperately through the cigarette and exhaled, coughing.
Her brain rattled between confusion and fear.
Were these memories or dreams?

A sound like a stampede outside her cell cut through the carefully pieced together thoughts and they shattered, falling like snow around her and disappearing before they hit the floor.
The enormous wooden door opened.
Two armed guards entered, grabbing her arms and dragging her naked body out of the cell.

“Quit dragging your feet, bitch,” one of them snarled in her ear.  “We know you can walk.”

“Or maybe the last interogation was too much for you,” the other snickered.  His sour breath was hot on her neck.  The memory of bodies floating on the wind, heat and sulfur and blood welled up within her and she gagged.

Both guards laughed uproariously.