5

On July 15, 2038, I woke to the soft, clear morning of the fourth year, fourth month, and fourth day after my birth.

My mother took me to the beach at La Jolla Shores, a short walk from our house. Gabrielle followed us there.

We set out our blanket on the sand, stripped down to our swimsuits, sprayed on our Detox Sunblox and walked down to the water. As one of the last local people-safe beaches, and with only a narrow strip of sand to its name, La Jolla Shores was packed towel-to-towel that morning. But it didn’t matter to Gabrielle if there were witnesses to the assassination. She didn’t pretend to know what God had planned for her after she fulfilled her mission. Perhaps she was to be despised as a child murderer, or perhaps she was to be protected and even revered by people everywhere as God opened their eyes to the prophecy she was fulfilling, saving them all. It didn’t matter. The most important thing was that she would have performed God’s will, and would be rewarded with her own child by God himself.

As we made our way down to the water, God’s brilliant plan sparkled ever clearer. Christ had washed away the sins of the world through baptism. God needed the entire Pacific Ocean to wash away our sin. Gabrielle followed us to the water’s edge and waited.

Mom and I stopped when the water reached my waist. Holding hands, we awaited the next wave and jumped as it struck us, laughing as it swept us a little toward the beach, then preparing to do it again. The return water sucked the wet sand from under my feet, tickling, and looping some seaweed around my ankle. I tried to shake it free before the next wave came.

As we waited holding hands for the oncoming wave, my mother inexplicably turned toward the beach. A tall woman slightly older than herself and wearing a long white skirt and blouse was calmly walking through the water, only ten feet away, dark eyes fixed on us with an expression of jubilant peace. Walking into the water fully clothed. Coming directly toward us. Then mom recognized her – the disturbed woman from the park. Shouting something about “the finger of God.” The sun reflected off an object in her hand. A silver knife.

All that happened in a couple seconds, but by then Gabrielle was upon us.

The wave hit us, I jumped into it, and suddenly it was pulling me a few feet towards the shore. My mom had let go of my hands. She never let go of my hands! I floundered and spat out some seawater, my hands sunk into the muddy bottom. Then I heard my mother scream for help. I stood up in time to see her struggling with the woman in white.

As they fell over into the water, a couple of men splashed out to our rescue. One of them disarmed the woman and pinned her down while the other helped my mother to the shore. A lifeguard was sprinting over with a first aid kit. There was so much blood. The woman was screaming something about the “Whore of Babylon.” I ran clumsily out of the water to my mother’s side.

“Don’t worry, son. She’s gonna be fine,” said one of the men who had rescued us.

I was too scared and confused to take it all in, but my mom gave me a comforting smile as they tied a tourniquet on her upper arm. Soon an ambulance was on the scene, and they helped us into it.

“Don’t let them get away!” screamed the woman. “Can’t you see them?”

As the paramedics gave me a seat next to my mother’s gurney, a patrol jeep stopped near the shore and collected Gabrielle Burns. Her eyes found me through the ambulance window. I turned from her and watched as the paramedics worked on my mom.

“I’m okay,” she mouthed to me, and smiled.

I tried to nod, but couldn’t return the smile. It did reassure me. I believed she’d be okay. But not because of me. I had just stood there in the water as she had fought with the woman. She could have died. And I’d just stood there.