by Bo Luellen
Without hesitation, Richard reached up and grabbed Dunn’s hand, replying, “Yes!”
The crowd sprang to their feet and shouted praises to God. The two guards carefully placed the silver pistol on his belt, the body armor on his torso, and the hat on his head. The cap and the vest both said, “Major Richard Enfield, Commander of the Tulsa Christian Crusaders.”
The horde erupted with applause as the sounds of heavy footsteps came from off stage. Appearing from behind Brother Dunn was a seven-person squad. Each was dressed in blue army fatigues, the gold lion of Eastland on their chests, and had parade rifles resting on their shoulders. They marched in unison and came to attention facing the audience.
Brother Dunn put a hand on Richard’s shoulder, proclaiming, “Major, you are now in command of the twelve thousand Tulsa Christian Crusaders. Behind you are the seven Captains in charge of the seven patrol districts of our city.”
Just like he had practiced in rehearsal, he turned and saluted the Captains. He had already spent several hours with each of them, going over their patrol routes, tactics and leads to possible Brotherhood movements. They were each highly trained soldiers and war veterans who operated their districts with precision. This worked out in Richards’s favor, as he was able to feed his operatives in the Crimson Brotherhood precise patrol times and routes. This would allow the Pearce Brothers to complete their mission with decreased risk.
After a lengthy speech from Dunn urging for more dedicated souls to volunteer for the Crusaders, he reminded members to keep the tithing dollars coming. Richard was shuffled off stage after the show and was led into the pastor’s private dressing room. After a brief wait, the leader of Eastland burst in the door and roared in triumph at the show’s success. As an assistant removed the layers of makeup from the pastor’s face, Richard took a seat in the corner of the room and watched as Eastland staffers filed in and reported ratings, what topics generated the most donations, and the current congregation numbers.
After ten minutes, Dunn dismissed the analysts and shut the door, saying, “Well, Major Enfield, what is your first move?”
Richard played the game and said, “Prayer. That will be my first step. While I wait for His inspiration, I’m going to let the Captains do their jobs. My main focus is going to center on the Tulsa Police and hold them accountable for their lack of cooperation with the Crusaders. They should be welcoming the help instead of trying to block us. I suspect they are getting direction from our Governor.”
Brother Dunn tilted his head and said, “Kathrine Hill? She is a strong Christian.”
Enfield lifted his eyes towards him, “A strong Christian who didn’t lift a finger to help us when the Chief of Police tried to stop our anointed patrols. She might have spoken at the mass funeral, shook your hand off-stage, but Governor Hill hasn’t come out in support of our movement. In this war, a neutral party withholds vital resources from the righteous and gives the followers of Cthulhu more places to hide. Without the assistance of the Governor, our efforts could be stopped at the presidential level. Hill needs to be more than just sympathetic; the office needs to wear the colors of Eastland.”
Greyson’s eyes lit up at that, and he replied, “Yes. Oklahoma needs spiritual leadership now more than ever. If we are to defeat this evil, we cannot have a lukewarm Governor.”
Richard blinked as if he had just thought of something, “Brother Dunn, if she refuses to join the Lord’s cause, I believe it will be time to look into other options.”
Dunn sat back in his chair, “We can’t let the Devil in our door, Brother Enfield. If she doesn’t join us, then...”
The door burst open, and a red-faced intern wearing a grey sweater said, “Brother Dunn, come quick!”
The two men jumped up from their chairs and ran along behind the young lady. As the group reached the control booth, they found everyone was watching Channel 6 News on TV. Gasps and sobs were coming from Eastland production staff as they fixed their gaze on the monitors. The video feed showed a giant statue of a man in a hardhat that was set ablaze. Fire trucks had just arrived and were attempting to get the flames under control. The fires were centered on the monument, and the cameras zoomed in on an outlined symbol of Cthulhu on the statue’s chest.
The news reporter said, “... the Golden Driller has been engulfed in flames. Reports started coming in twenty minutes ago. The fire department has just arrived on the scene. Tom, witnesses say they saw a flash of light. Then the symbol of the Crimson Brotherhood started burning in the center of the statue’s chest and quickly spread over parts of the monument. As the statue is made of a mixture of concrete and plaster, it is naturally fire-resistant. I’ve been told by firefighters that some kind of chemical agent was used to create the blaze. The police have backed people away, as parts of the famed Driller have started to melt.”
The desk anchor replied, “Tragic. Again for those of you who just joined us, the Golden Driller has been vandalized, apparently by agents of the Crimson Brotherhood. So far, the police have made no official statement and ...”
Dunn pounded his fist on a nearby desk and yelled, “That is right off of 21st. In plain sight of passing traffic. How? How did this happen? Where were our patrols?”
Richard stepped forward, “Brother Dunn, I think I can answer that.”
Tulsa, Oklahoma – Friday, November 2nd, 2018 – 8:11 a.m. CST
The next morning the press was gathered around the steps to the Worship Center. News trucks from all the local stations, as well as CNN and FOX, filled the parking lot. An empty podium had dozens of microphones clustered behind the logo of Eastland. Rope barricades kept the eager reporters at a distance, while hundreds of the college campus students surrounded the stage to hear the announcement.
Richard sat in a chair just behind the podium, wearing a two-piece suit that still let the chill in. The temperature had dropped significantly, and the freezing wind was turning everyone’s face red. He looked out over the crowd and saw Daniel’s grimacing mug. The thief was bundled in an old sailor’s peacoat and wore a black beanie over his balding head. Richard had ordered him to be present in the throng to gauge the audience’s reaction to the press conference. Polls were one thing, but he liked to get the first blush response from the loyalists of Brother Dunn.
After a few more minutes, Dunn approached the microphones wearing a grey suit and coat. His thinning bleached blonde hair was perfectly styled and impervious to the pulsing gusts. He reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a collection of notes. Reporters sat eagerly in the front row, while campus security flanked each side of the dais.
The pastor announced, “Good morning. I appreciate everyone coming out on this cold November day. Last night our good city suffered yet another attack. The Golden Driller statue was vandalized in what our scholars at Eastland are calling an offering to the pagan god Cthulhu. This is an act of intimidation that sends a clear message: The Crimson Brotherhood is still an active threat, and they are on the hunt.
“I ask, where were the police and FBI when this happened? They were busy making sure the lawful patrols conducted by the Tulsa Christian Crusaders stayed marginalized. The Tulsa Chief of Police Blake Kelly and Mayor Walker made it perfectly clear that they had the backing of Governor Hill. Last evening could have been avoided, but the city said, “trust us.” Well, we trusted you, and this was the result.
“Governor Katherine Hill, the people of Oklahoma, are demanding that you exercise your emergency powers and give the Tulsa Crusaders the ability to patrol our streets as agents of the State. You have the ability to secure our town and to root out these terrorists. The over three million Christians in Oklahoma await your response, Governor.”
Brother Dunn took a step back from the podium as reporters surged forward, yelling questions. Richard got up and followed him to a waiting black SUV. Crusaders were flanking them on both sides as bodyguards opened the armored vehicle’s door. The warmth of the heaters was inviting, as the long hour wait for the pastor’
s arrival had taxed his patience.
Richard removed his gloves and asked, “Do you think she will do it?”
Greyson signaled the chauffeur to drive and answered, “Only God knows.”
The vehicle worked its way towards the main street and quickly put the college behind them. As they drove, Richard rolled his eyes at the old southern hymns that were piped into the cabin and grimaced at how Greyson tapped his foot to the music. He glanced outside the window in disgust and saw his old mentor flying next to the SUV.
The ghost smirked, “Oh, do sing along, Richard.”
Having no refuge from irritation, Enfield trained his eyes on his phone and did his best to stay calm. Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the charred remains of the once magnificent Golden Driller statue. Both arms had fallen to the ground, and the head had melted off at the neck. The once-great figure had been a symbol of the oil prosperity of the city. Now its blackened head lay at the feet of the mangled statue. Richard took stock of the Pearce Brothers handiwork and did his best to play dumb.
As Dunn was being prepped for the camera, Samuel floated over and ribbed, “Have you prayed to Jesus today, Oh Master? Do remember to sober up your wife enough for church this Sunday. I hear they are having a potluck. Considering the bulbous cows I saw coming out of the meeting hall, I’d venture to say they know their way around a kitchen.”
Richard shot him a glare and thought, This must be unsettling for you. Sitting outside the Eastland buildings because you can’t walk on hallowed ground. Relying on me to make the decisions, while you keep your place.
The spirit landed and walked next to him, “I had some reservations about you. You are rash and bull-headed, but I must admit, you are picking up a few things from me.”
The crew whirled the camera lens at Brother Dunn as he stood in front of the lopsided head of the statue. Cars that passed by were honking and yelling loving encouragement towards the evangelist. Pedestrians were gathering around at an alarming rate. This caused the producer to double-time his staff in fear the speech would show up on YouTube before they had a chance to air it.
The camera started recording, as Dunn went into action, “My fellow Christians, I come to you with a heavy burden. I’ve been deep in prayer, and the Lord has told me that the devil has a hold of our political system. I’ve just asked Governor Hill to do her duty and let the Christian citizens of this town defend themselves from the lackeys of Cthulhu. It should have never come to this, but here we are. If the Governor doesn’t commit to the Tulsa Christian Crusaders in one week, I will run against her in the Governor’s race as a write-in candidate on November 8th. Governor Hill, there will be a reckoning against the followers of Cthulhu, and we are determined to defend our families from those heathens. I hope this is a wake-up call for you. The Christians of Oklahoma await your response.”
The camera cut off, and Samuel remarked, “Our good Brother Dunn, how well he seems to be adapting to the national spotlight. I must confess, his message was to the point. He covered the bases and ensured Governor Hill would be cornered into not complying or risk being labeled a puppet. Ironically, he persecutes the actions of the Crimson Brotherhood and manipulates his followers to take up arms for their Hebrew God. A stranger to this world might have a hard time telling us apart.”
Richard bit his upper lip and thought, There is an off chance Governor Hill might actually say, ‘Yes.’”
Samuel semi-transparent grin shimmered in the sunlight, “She could. If she did, then the Crusaders could march in the streets, the Crimson Brotherhood could savage the town, chaos would rise, and Governor Hill would be to blame. The Aeon is coming to a close, and the Herald will be with us soon.”
Richard regarded him suspiciously, The Herald?
The ghost raised an eye at his former Apprentice, “Oh my boy, did you ever pay attention to anything I taught you? One month before Cthulhu can be awakened, the Herald will rise from the grave and visit the plagues upon man’s most powerful nation.”
He sent a text to his driver to pick him up and thought, A Herald, huh? Rising from the grave no less. I suppose after everything I’ve seen, it shouldn’t surprise me. Does this Herald have a name?”
As Daniel Harris pulled up in Richard’s black Lexus, Samuel replied, “Imhotep.”
Richard nodded, oblivious to who or what an Imhotep was, and quickly got in the vehicle. Daniel was sporting a black chauffeur’s hat and sunglasses. It was a thinly veiled disguise for the former institutionalized criminal, as the tattoos on his neck poked up over his collar.
He slammed the door and ordered, “To my estate.”
The short, balding man darted the car out into traffic and quickly pulled a U-turn. The tinted windows of the vehicle did little to filter the morning sun as Richard attempted to sleep during the drive. The long night had been filled with prepping for today’s announcement. He had set up new patrol routes for the Tulsa Crusaders and filtered the information back to his Sect of the Crimson Brotherhood. Richard was now carrying the responsibility of leading the cult and the Tulsa Christian Crusaders at the same time. Juggling two opposing forces was taxing, and the fatigue was starting to show on his face.
Samuel appeared in the seat across from him, saying, “You need to start trusting your subordinates and delegate some of these responsibilities. You’re not doing any of us any good if you pass out.”
Richard squinted his eyes at the annoyance, I can’t slow down, not now. When the Preserve was raided, and the national news reported that an active cult of Cthulhu was responsible, it was like ringing the dinner bell. Crimson Brotherhood members have started arriving from all around the United States to fill up our ranks. Our safe houses and even the Library are at capacity with murderers, arsonists, and anarchists eagerly waiting their turn at distributing mayhem. Now’s not the time for me to slow down.
The ghost leaned back in his chair, “You’re in a better position than you give us credit for. I’ve been preparing for this day and provisioned the Howard Estate with enough explosives, guns, and ammunition to arm a thousand followers of Cthulhu.”
Before Richard could respond, sleep overtook him, and he drifted off. In his dreams, he saw a tanned figure standing on top of a sand dune surrounded by servants and retainers. The figure was dressed in gold finery and had strange symbols decorating his chest and face. Standing to his side was a beautiful woman, dressed in a cheetah hide. Overhead a falcon cried out and snapped him out of the dream
The squealing sound of the garage door closing mimicked the bird’s cry, and he found himself leaning at an odd angle against the car’s glass door. He wiped some drool from his face and looked out of the window to see Amy Howard standing at the doorway to the garage.
Richard got out and gave his coat and gloves to Daniel as he told her, “Good Morning, Miss Howard. Report, please?”
Amy followed him into the house, as she replied, “The cops have nothing. The Pearce Brothers avoided the security cameras, and there weren’t any witnesses. They got away clean.”
As they entered the main study of the estate, Samuel sat staring at them from a brown leather chair. The house was sanctified to Cthulhu and was magically prepared by the ghost in the event of his death. Here he looked almost solid and could interact with the environment with little effort. Richard noticed the ghost’s magical abilities were also enhanced while in the house, and his spells could have some small effect on the living. Thanks to a few enchantments, his daughter Amy was able to see and hear her father.
The spirit stood up and replied, “That is what worries me.”
Richard flung his suit coat onto a chair and asked, “Explain?”
Samuel reached out and took a book off the shelves titled The Art of War, saying, “An enemy that is starved of success cannot be guided to their defeat.”
He turned, stating, “Ahh, Sun Tzu.”
The ghost dropped the book onto a table and snapped, “No, I made that up just now. You assumed it was Sun Tzu because you’re
attempting to look smarter than you are. We must make the enemy believe they are on the right path to keep them in our trap. If all they receive is failure, then they will change their tactics. Right now, you are the spearhead against the Crimson Brotherhood. If you look inept, they will replace you. Do you get the point?”
Richard went red-faced as Amy giggled at his expense. He kicked a chair out of the way and walked over to the cherry wood bar. He loaded up a glass with ice as he considered the wisdom of having these meetings in front of Amy.
He kept his back to the ghost, and calmly asked, “So what are you suggesting? Let them raid one of our strongholds?”
Samuel looked exasperated, “No. That would only weaken us with no benefit to our cause. Sacrifices will need to be made for sure, but what I suggest is something more elegant. Every action we take needs to be centered towards the awakening. If we do that, Cthulhu will strengthen our spells and grant us guidance. I believe we could find an opportunity in the town that has lingering confidence in their police department, the FBI, and the politicians that run Oklahoma. If they were to prove incompetent, such as if Henry Jekyll were to be liberated, then support would die on the vine. I think it is time to put our new Angelic friend to work.”
Richard took a long drink then asked, “Just where are we on delivery of the golem?”
Amy leaned on a cherry wood desk and answered, “There’s a problem with that. Shoshannah Feinstein sent a message this morning saying she won’t be able to produce the golem until next year. She says there are some security concerns she is dealing with, and she is about to go underground.”
Samuel looked out the window at the beautiful Oklahoma sky. “We shouldn’t wait. Hyde is staying in Jekyll for a reason, and it shouldn’t be allowed to finish whatever game it’s playing. We can still house Hyde in another Athame dagger, but we have to get to him. The police have his room surrounded. Without Miniel leading our forces, we would have no chance of getting inside. No, Shoshannah Feinstein will have to postpone her sabbatical. Without her creation, Miniel is a ticking timebomb waiting to go off. Once we have her inside that golem, nothing can stop us.”
