It was 2 AM and not a sound could be heard in the halls of New York City's Mother of Mercy Hospital. That one fact alone, that a maternity ward could be so unnaturally silent, was enough to make Father John nervous. Having Father Peter hanging over his shoulder like some dark bird of prey didn't help matters much either.

"Hurry up!" Father Peter commanded. "The night nurse will be back any minute."

Father John fumbled with the files. Sister Elizabeth was young and naïve but she kept a neat desk. It felt like a violation to rifle through her papers. "I'm trying," Father John whined, "but they use a short hand for everything. I can't find the proper entry." He opened a different drawer.

"Just look at the dates," Father Peter snapped back. "We're looking for one child. The only child born on June 6th."

Father John began gasping for breath. Every time he thought of what they were about to do he found it difficult to breath. "Are you sure about this, Father? Do we have the right to take a life?"

Father Peter's head snapped up from the papers he was reviewing and he fixed Father John with a piercing stare. A middle-aged man with dark eyes and an even darker disposition, he did not have an inviting demeanor. Father John had never even liked the man but now Father Peter had the authority of the Vatican behind him.

"We have been over this," Father Peter said in a soft and almost gentle voice. "On any given day there are tens of thousands of children born into the world. It is therefore impossible that on this one particular day, in the whole world, only one child is born. The sign is too obvious. He has to be the one."

Father John shook his head. Once, before he had accepted his calling, he had thought to become a mathematician. This was one of the few occasions when he actually regretted the path he'd chosen. "I agree that it is improbable," he countered, "but hardly impossible. On God's Earth everything is possible."

Father Peter bit back whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, his demeanor stiffened. "You cannot deny that the child bears the mark of the beast. It is the only child we know of that was born on June 6th of 2006 - 06-06-06. How much more obvious does it need to be. It must be destroyed."

But Father John wasn't convinced. They were talking about murder. He knew that if he were to do this, he could have no doubt. "That we KNOW of," he agreed. "But there are places in the world where the Holy Church does not have eyes. It is conceivable that we may have missed a few of the births."

Father Peter didn't even try to hide his disgust. "If you knew more about the Church you serve you would not be saying something so stupid." Then he let out a sigh and gave a shudder, like a man wrestling with his own doubts. "Father John, do you really think we came about this decision easily? That we did not seek other evidence and pray for guidance? Do you truly believe that we are ignorant of the horrible sin we are about to commit? That I do not know that my soul will burn for eternity for this? Every doubt was considered. Every argument heard. But in the end, what choice do we have? We have the responsibility to protect the world from evil. We are the shepherds of humanity - even if most of the flock will not acknowledge us as such. Everything points to the here and now and if we do not have the courage to act, who will?" It was perhaps the most sincere speech Father John had ever heard him utter.

"H-Hello? May I help you?" Both men spun around to find Sister Elizabeth standing behind them. The young woman was plainly dressed, being of an order that no longer wore habits, and was holding a bundle of blue baby blankets in her arms. "Oh, Father John," she said with a nervous smile, "it's you. I thought I heard voices but I couldn't imagine who would come visiting at this hour." She gave Father Peter a polite nod. "Hello, I'm --."

Father Peter cut her off. "We are trying to identify one of the infants in your care. A child, born on June 6, which one is he?" He stepped back so as to give her access to her papers. Sister Elizabeth, obviously confused by his odd behavior, turned her attention to Father John.

"He's, he's from the Vatican," Father John offered. "He's come to bless the child." It surprised the young priest that he could utter such an abominable lie so easily.

Sister Elizabeth's innocent face brightened. "Oh, how wonderful. But there isn't just one child - they're twins."

Both men stared at her. "Twins?" Father Peter demanded.

"Yes," Sister Elizabeth confirmed as she put down the blankets on a table. "Two of the most beautiful boys you have ever seen. I mean, everyone says that babies are beautiful but these two are absolutely angelic. They have the cutest noses, the brightest eyes, and never an ill-tempered moment. I swear I've yet to hear either of them cry. And they --"

Father John raised a hand to stop her gushing litany of praise. "And they were the only babies born on the sixth?"

"Yes," she said, nodding her head. "I remember it well because it was the strangest day I'd ever seen here. Six women were in labor but not one would deliver. We had them lined up in the halls. The doctors were saying that if something didn't change they would have to perform cesareans on everyone. Then the Abdullahs arrived and she practically delivered her babies in the lobby. After that, it was as if the gates of heaven were thrown open. Every one of the ladies who'd been in labor delivered their bundle of joy."

"On the morning of the seventh?" Father Peter asked her.

"What?"

"The other ladies," Father Peter clarified. "When they delivered, it was already past midnight, wasn't it? They all delivered on the seventh."

Sister Elizabeth's eyes clouded over as she considered the question. "Why yes," she said with a bob of her head, "you're right. All the other ladies delivered on the seventh. How odd?"

"Abdullah?" Father John interjected, not wanting to lose the point of the conversation. "The parents aren't American?"

"No," the good Sister answered. "I think the father is from North Africa. The mother is Swiss. They're both in the diplomatic corp. I believe that's how they met."

"Are they Catholics?" Father Peter prompted.

Sister Elizabeth now looked uncertain as to whom she should be addressing. They were both firing questions at her so quickly. "I don't think the father is. But I assume the mother is. Or did some other family member ask you to come bless the child?" If Sister Elizabeth were not such an innocent she would have spotted the panic that suddenly swept across Father John's eyes.

"No, no," he said as he turned away, his stomach churning, "it was the ambassador. He knows the bishop." Again, the ease with which he lied surprised him.

"Oh, how exciting!" Sister Elizabeth said with enthusiasm. "Shall I bring them here or do you want to go to their cribs?"

"We will go to --" Father Peter began before Father John cut him off.

"Sister," Father John said, stepping between them, "I'd like a word with Father Peter. Could you excuse us please?" She gave him a perplexed look but nodded and withdrew. Father John spun on Father Peter. "What do you intend to do?"

For all the emotion he displayed, Father Peter could have been a statue. His face was set in stone. "I will kill them both."

Father John gasped. "But one of them is clearly an innocent! You can't murder a child that's committed no sin!"

For the tiniest moment there was a flicker of doubt on Father Peter's face. Apparently, he was not as devoid of emotion as he pretended. "The innocent child will become a martyr. He will sit on the right hand of God, with all the saints and the prophets, and he will --"

"It's murder!"

"It is the will of God," Father Peter snapped back. "He ordained that it should be this way."

Father John's mind raced with the implications. What if they were wrong? No good could come from such a crime. "If it's God's will," he began, "why are there two?"

"What?"

"Why are there two?" Father John demanded. "Why would God want us to be confronted with such a choice? Why would it be so --" Father John froze.

Father Peter saw the expression on his face and grew concerned. "What's wrong?"

Father John's heart began to race. It felt like it was about to burst from his chest. "Free will."

"You're delirious. I'll get the nurse." Father Peter moved to pass Father John but he younger man grabbed his arm.

"Free will," Father John repeated. "It's always been about choice, hasn't it? God could command our obedience. He could force our compliance. But he gave us free will. We have the right to choose."

"I don't understand."

"Twins," Father John repeated. "Choice."

Father Peter frowned. "Are you saying that it's some sort of test? That God wants us to figure out which child to kill."

Father John shook his head. "No. I mean that this is the physical manifestation of all of our beliefs. We must choose the path we wish to follow. Two boys. Two paths. The Alpha and the Omega."

But Father Peter wasn't following him. Or perhaps, part of him didn't want to follow. "What are you babbling about? One of those boys is the Anti-Christ. The other child
is --" Father Peter's eyes grew wide as realization struck. "You're, you're not seriously suggesting that . . . that one of those two boys is . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"He was born a man once. Who's to say that his second coming will not start the same way?"

Father Peter shook his head violently. "What you are proposing is heresy! I won't listen. I won't!"

"Hellooooo!" Came Sister Elizabeth's lilting voice. The sister entered the nursing station with a baby cradled in each arm. "I thought you gentlemen might be a little nervous entering the nursery so I decided to bring the little angels to you." She was grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious that these two babies filled her with joy. "Aren't they the sweetest things?"

Father John looked at the newborns. Both were healthy, strong, handsome boys. Unlike other children their age both were wide-eyed and alert -- and both were staring directly at Father Peter with an intensity that almost bordered on understanding.

The older man seemed to shrink under their gaze. "We must do something," he whispered. "We must make a choice."

Father John nodded his head. "We will," he said as he began to mutter the Lord's Prayer under his breath. "Ultimately, we all will."

-End-