Nathaniel Rich: Odds Against Tomorrow

"At the end of the tunnel, more tunnel."

"In the darkness of the storm, a ray of darkness."

...

“One day your employees start complaining about insomnia. Many of them call in sick. Those who do show up wear gloves in the office and never remove them. Why? You ask. They don’t respond. Show me your hands, you say. They refuse to show you. You physically force your secretary to remove her gloves. The gloves are filled with blood. You run her hands under the faucet. When the blood drains away, you can see identical cuts on both her palms. The cuts are in the shape of a cross... She has received the stigmata.”

“The stigmata?”

“The stigmata. You see, your secretary is one of the chosen ones.”

“Chosen? For what?”

“You wake up next morning to the sound of a trumpet call. The sun is turning black, like a rotten lemon. At the northern end of Broadway, seven horses appear in the middle of the avenue. They are as white as ivory. Astride the beasts are horsemen cloaked up to their eyes in dark garments. The horses begin to march downtown.

“The East River has turned to blood. The Harlem into blood. The Hudson – also blood. Blood spurts out of the tap. There is a red ring around the shower drain. Blood comes out of there too... The Blood is thick and dark, almost black. It clots the pipes. Plants and crops start to wither. People raid supermarkets for bottled water. When that runs out, they start drinking the blood. The blood is nothing like normal blood. It tastes awful.”

“Zukor? Are you alright? Alec, is he alright?”

“This taste,” said Mitchell, “this is the taste of the future.”