by S. E. Meyer
“That’s a great idea Joe. Why don’t you head that up. You can take the fuel truck and an armed escort and see what you can find. We won’t have to wait for dark since we’re under cover of darkness around the clock right now,” answered James. He looked around the room patiently waiting for more ideas. It was Father Nathaniel that spoke up next.
“I know where we can get some food. I’m a little apprehensive about telling you about it, but you did save my life and welcomed me here as one of your own, so in my mind I guess I owe you one,” answered Nathaniel. His face held a concerned expression and his head was cocked to one side as he spoke.
“Father, we would very much appreciate anything you might have to offer and I can promise you this, you will be well taken care of here. You are among friends,” explained James.
“Yes, well at my church, that’s where I had been staying up until yesterday when you found me, there is a rather large stockpile of food. We have a large food pantry at the church,” Nathaniel explained.
“That’s great news Father,” James interrupted with a broad smile.
“It would be good news except it was looted several weeks ago,” Nathaniel continued. He clenched his jaw and placed his hands together as though he was in prayer before continuing. James displayed a disappointed look and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “However I know where the underground root cellar is. That is where we keep several months’ supply of wheat, rice and other dry goods along with additional canned foods. I would be willing to take you there and we can bring it all back here. There are hundreds of pounds of food down there,” Nathaniel finished. He continued to show concern in his face and there was a trickle of apprehension in his tone. Nathaniel felt nauseous at the thought of giving away several months worth of food to almost strangers. He brushed the thought aside with a wave of his hand. He knew this was the right thing to do.
“Thank you Father. You have no idea how much that will help,” answered James. He took a step in John’s direction and made eye contact. “John, can you and Frank go with Father Nathaniel to his church?” John nodded and then looked over at Frank who nodded back.
“Sure we can go and bring back whatever we can find,” answered John. James looked towards the back of the room before speaking again. He was looking in the direction of three men seated along the far wall.
“Can you three go with them? Pete, Eric and Jason, are you guys all right with that? They’ll need some help loading up. Make sure you bring enough weapons and ammo. Take the one ton pick-up,” instructed James. He slowly peered around the room again. “Anyone else?” he asked. James waited several minutes for a response and when none came he clapped his hands together. “Okay, well let’s get going then. Everyone be careful and don’t take any unnecessary risks. I want you all back here safe and sound,” James finished and walked over to the table where the coffee was and poured himself a cup. The room began bustling with commotion as everyone stood up and began to make their way to other parts of the compound. Jennifer walked up to James and smiled.
“James, give me something to do. I want to help,” Jennifer asked. She nervously brushed away a few strands of hair from her forehead.
James studied her for a moment before answering. “You can come with me. We need to take care of some inventory and I could use a hand,” he said.
John suddenly appeared next to James. “Need a hand with what?” he asked his brother. John raised an eyebrow along with the question.
“Don’t worry John. I’m not going to have Jennifer do anything dangerous. She’s going to help me with inventory,” replied James. He could see the concern for Jennifer in John’s face and knew why he was asking the question. Jennifer raised her hands and shook her head in a ‘what do you care’ expression.
“Okay, well we’re going to head to the church I guess,” John replied ignoring Jenny’s body language. He turned to leave, but James grabbed his shoulder.
“John, be careful. It’s pretty crazy out there. Watch your back and stay together as a group. No wandering off okay?” said James.
John turned around and gave his brother a hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll be alright,” replied John as he pulled away from James and then headed towards the back of the room with Frank and Father Nathaniel.
Within a few minutes John and Frank were seated on either side of Nathaniel in the back of the navy blue, one-ton crew cab pick-up truck. Pete and Eric sat in the front while Jason stayed in the pick-up bed holding a semi-automatic rifle. There were two more rifles leaning against the front seat between Pete and Eric along with several clips and a large box of ammunition. Nathaniel directed them through the city for several blocks until the group could see a large church come into view. They hadn’t seen anyone while they slowly drove their way through the cluttered streets of Chicago. There were abandoned cars littering the avenues and the only sound was coming from the eight-cylinder engine under the hood. The sound of the motor seemed out of place in this new landscape and the noise made the group feel exposed. Pete maneuvered the truck to the back of the church at the direction of Nathaniel. The Father pointed to a large overhead door on their right hand side. “Right there, see if you can back it in there. That will be about as close as we can get to the supplies,” he instructed. Pete slowly backed the truck up to the door and killed the engine, leaving the silence of the city to echo through everyone’s mind. The absence of any sound at all left an eerie feeling in the air, like a thick fog on a chilly fall morning.
The group exited the truck and followed Nathaniel up a set of stone steps that led to a large oak door. He began fumbling with his set of keys when Frank reached over and tried the knob. The latch clicked and the door swung open easily. “Be careful,” Nathaniel whispered. “I left this door locked so someone has been here,” he said as he slowly stepped inside. John and Pete turned on their flashlights once they were inside and Jason, taking up the rear of the group, closed the door. They were in a small entryway near the back of the church and Nathaniel led them along a narrow corridor. They silently crept along in the semi-darkness as everyone focused their attention straight ahead on the beams of light coming from the flashlights reflecting off the walls. The group followed Nathaniel down two flights of stairs, the last one made of stone, until they came to another large door. It was John who tried the door this time, but the latch didn’t move. Nathaniel pulled out his keys and selected the last one on the chain. It was well worn with a generous patina finish. He slid the key into the latch and turned it with a faint click. The door swung open with a loud creak that made everyone nervous.
The smell of damp wood reached their noses and a cold draft amplified the goose bumps already covering their skin. “This one was still locked, that’s a good sign,” whispered the priest and then motioned with his hand for the group to follow. They all entered the dark musty room as John and Pete explored with the flashlights. There were wide shelves along each wall with an additional set of shelves in the middle of the room that could be accessed from all sides. The shelves along the walls were bursting with supplies. The dry goods were vacuum packed into thick plastic bags and then sealed again into large six-gallon pails. Cases of canned fruits and vegetables overflowed the shelves in the middle of the room and there were stacks of canned beans on the floor. The room was dusty and damp, but obvious care had been taken to ensure that the food would not spoil.
“This is amazing Father,” John said under his breath after the group had taken a minute to look around. “It’s the perfect prepper cache,” John added.
“Well I wouldn’t say I’m much of a prepper, at least not in the widely understood definition of that term, but I would say there is nothing wrong with being prepared that’s for sure,” responded Nathaniel.
“What were you preparing for exactly?” asked Frank as he continued to scan the rows of supplies before looking back towards Nathaniel.
“Anything,” Nathaniel whispered slowly. He bent towards one of the shelves and blew the dust off on
e of the plastic pails of wheat berries before continuing. “Supposed to be good for twenty years stored this way,” he finished and then removed the pail from the shelf and set it on the floor. Everyone else took Nathaniel’s lead and they all began to remove items from the shelves and placed them closer to the door. They began to make several trips back outside to the pick-up, carrying as much of the heavy supplies as possible.
Once the truck was about half full John stopped Jason. “Can you stay with the truck and supplies? I need you to keep an eye out, okay?” John asked. “Leaving all this out in the open kind of makes me nervous,” explained John as he gestured toward the pick-up bed.
“Yeah sure,” Jason responded and then checked his clip and loaded a round into the chamber. He patted the side of the weapon and smiled back at John. “Just in case,” he said.
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” replied John and then headed back into the church. John stopped Frank as he passed by him on the stairs. “Have you seen Nathaniel?” he asked.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him in a while,” replied Frank, shaking his head.
“Okay, well maybe he’s down in the cellar,” John responded in a whisper and continued down the last set of stairs. When he got to the cellar he found Pete and Eric grabbing another load. “Hey, have you guys seen Nathaniel?” asked John. Both of the men shook their heads.
“No,” added Pete before picking up another pail of wheat and heading back up the stairs.
John was starting to get concerned. He quickly passed Pete and ran up the stairs, making his way down the corridor as fast as possible. He almost ran into Frank heading back inside as he cleared the doorway. “Any sign of Nathaniel yet?” asked John. He held out his hands palm side up and raised his eyebrows in frustration.
“No, no one has seen him anywhere,” replied Frank, shaking his head. John could see the concern in his eyes.
“I’m going to have to go look for him. He must be in the church somewhere,” John grunted with displeasure.
“I’ll go with you,” responded Frank and then looked over his shoulder toward Jason, who was still guarding the truck. “We’re going to go look for Nathaniel,” said Frank in a loud whisper. Jason nodded and then walked toward them as he fumbled inside his jacket. “Here take this with you,” he said as he pulled out a semi-automatic handgun. “Just in case,” he added as he held it out for John to take. John took the weapon and tucked it in his waist as he nodded at Frank. The two headed up the stairs and disappeared into the church.
“Maybe we should check the sanctuary,” suggested John once they were inside. The two of them headed in the opposite direction of the corridor they had been using to get the supplies and within a few minutes they found the Narthex. The doors were open and there was light coming from inside the Sanctuary. John and Frank slowly crept inside and noticed where the light was coming from. There were dozens of candles lit at the main alter which was casting a soft glow throughout the large room. The walls stretched up to a wide cathedral ceiling and the candlelight bounced and glimmered off the many stained glass windows that ran along each side of the Nave. They slowly continued to make their way through the dim light towards the front alter then stopped in their tracks. There in the first row of pews, hunched over with his hands held together, was Father Nathaniel. Standing directly in front of him, with his arms crossed and holding a smug expression, was Braedon.
“Welcome,” said Braedon through pursed lips. “You’re not exactly the one I was expecting to find here, but maybe you can help me.” The words trickled from his throat like an icy, fast-flowing stream in winter. “You see I’m looking for a woman, maybe you’ve seen her?” he finished with a broad smile and piercing eyes. “I went to visit with her this morning and found out she was gone. Taken! Right from under my nose. Now you can imagine how that made me feel,” Braedon hissed. His calm demeanor had quickly turned to rage. John stammered at first, but found his voice.
“H-how did you find us?” asked John as he slowly moved his hand down towards his waistband that still concealed the semi-automatic pistol Jason had given him.
“As I said, I wasn’t looking for you,” Braedon replied displaying a look of disgust as he spoke the last word. Braedon noticed John’s hand movement and then added, “I wouldn’t do anything hasty now, John.” John could feel Braedon trying to penetrate his mind. Where is she John? Where is the mother of my child? Braedon waved his hand and the stained glass window nearest John instantly shattered, raining down thousands of tiny fragments. John could feel Braedon’s rage. John’s own anger towards Braedon made it easy for John to gather his strength. He closed his eyes and concentrated, forcing Braedon out of his thoughts. “Hmm, I see you’ve grown much stronger since the last time we met. You know, I didn’t help you finish your path to enlightenment so you could use it against me, John. It was so you could join me. It’s not too late you know. I can still use a strong Sura like you. Someone with the power only the ancient priests knew. Come now John, and join the winning side!” Braedon coaxed.
“And then what Braedon?” asked John. “Serve at your side while you take my wife as your own? I could never join you!” John yelled.
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose you’re right,” replied Braedon in a matter of fact tone. Braedon tried to enter John’s thoughts again, but he easily brushed the intrusion away.
“Hmm, yes quite strong. It doesn’t matter though because you possess a weakness that I don’t. Empathy,” Braedon stretched his right hand out towards Nathaniel sitting in front of him. The priest jolted and cried out in pain. John wrapped his hand around the handle of the weapon under his shirt. “Maybe you don’t care as much about the priest, but what about a good friend,” Braedon continued. This time he outstretched his left hand towards Frank. John’s best friend flew forward, smashing into the front alter and landing on the floor in a pile of splintered wood. “Where is she John?” Braedon asked again. “Don’t make me ask you a third time.” Braedon moved his hand slightly and Frank was now levitating above the ground, writhing in pain. Braedon lowered his arms and Frank once again fell to the floor. Nathaniel fell forward and began speaking in a loud voice.
“Oh Lord, protect us from this evil,” the priest sputtered. Braedon took a step toward him and kicked Nathaniel in the ribs. His uncontrollable rage over losing Jennifer was consuming him.
“Do you really think you are safe here?” asked Braedon, once again displaying a smug look. He brought his thumb to his chin and then added, “in this place?” Braedon brought his hand back down from his face and then stretched his arms wide.
Nathaniel took a deep breath. “Yes, this is the safest place we can be. In God’s house, surrounded with all the depictions of safety and salvation,” Nathaniel replied. Braedon flicked his wrist in the air and Nathaniel flew back into a seated position in the front pew.
“Leave them alone,” John shouted drawing the handgun and pointing it at Braedon. Braedon outstretched his right palm toward John. There was a blue flash forcing John backwards to the floor, knocking the gun from his hands. Frank screamed out in agony with a gesture from Braedon’s left hand.
“Now you just stay put John,” Braedon said. John felt paralyzed from the shock of energy that had ripped through his chest. “I’ll get back to you in a minute, right now I need to teach the good Father here a lesson,” said Braedon, then smiled again before continuing. “I’ve had a hell of a day already and I’m just dying to take it out on someone. Besides, it’s the principle of the matter.” Braedon turned his attention back to Nathaniel and pointed up at the stained glass windows. He was projecting all of his anger towards the priest and wanted him to suffer. His voice rose in volume as he spoke. “Do you really think those are signs of salvation and safety Father?” Braedon spat in frustration. “Everything in here Father is a reference to the sun. But not exactly the one you’re thinking of. It would be spelled s-u-n not s-o-n,” Braedon explained.
Nathaniel po
inted at a copy of Da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper. “And how would you find the sun in a picture like that? Nathaniel asked.
Braedon looked to where Nathaniel was pointing. “ That? Oh that’s an easy one. You see Jesus in the middle there? He represents God’s son right? Now remember that’s spelled s-u-n. You see how all twelve disciples are arranged in groups of three? They represent the twelve months of the year broken up into the four seasons. The spring and fall equinox and the winter and summer solstice,” explained Braedon.
“That’s preposterous,” retorted Nathaniel. “And what of that?” he asked now pointing behind the main front alter to a life sized replica of Mary holding the baby Jesus. I-I don’t think you can get the sun from that,” he stammered.
“You see how there is a bright circle behind the head of Jesus? That’s supposed to represent divinity right? Well, it looks an awful lot like the sun to me. Besides, that picture has been around a lot longer than Mary and Jesus have. There were pictures just like that one for thousands of years before Jesus. They were the representation of Isis holding baby Horus. It was depicted exactly the same way, with a circle behind the head of baby Horus. Horus is the symbol of the sun. Just more sun symbolism,” Braedon continued to explain. Nathaniel was becoming angry now as he was feeling the full brunt of an attack on his beliefs. Even in the dim candlelight John could see his face was turning red. Nathaniel pointed to the life sized statue of the crucifix hanging on the wall next to the front alter.
“Jesus died on the cross for our sins so that we might be saved, there’s no way you can get the sun from that,” Nathaniel bellowed.
“The cross?” Braedon asked as he chuckled. “The cross symbol comes from the Ankh, or handled cross. It is an Egyptian hieroglyph that means life, or in some cases life given by the sun. The Roman Catholic Church does not deny this. Another one of the first depictions of the cross is the Sumerian sun wheel. It was a large circle with two lines drawn through it like a pie cut into four pieces,” Braedon explained. “It’s also called the cross of Baal and you use that sign every time you mark yourself with the cross,” replied Braedon.
