The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two

by G. Wells Taylor

  “Do not speak the Lord’s name in vain!” Stoneworthy said with as much strength as he could muster. The politician was dismayed.

  “Forgive me. I was surprised to see you,” Barnstable said quietly. “Gentlemen, I am writing a speech that I will be delivering tomorrow to the City Chamber of Commerce. Perhaps we could…”

  “Commerce?” Updike barked. “Chamber of Horrors! Do you meet to discuss the redistribution of wealth?” He slammed a fist on the desk.

  “Seriously, gentlemen.” The mayor sat back in his chair, crossed his legs and toyed absently with the heel of a shoe. “I object to your method.” He cleared his throat. “We at City Hall pride ourselves on the relationship we have nurtured with Archangel Tower and those who use it. The City contributed many millions to its construction.”

  “Oh that I could tear each brick from it that was purchased with the profits of this usury!” Updike turned to look at Stoneworthy. Something apologetic passed across his eyes.

  The mayor sighed and shifted in his chair. “Could we do without the fire and brimstone?”

  “Your moneylenders will be stopped.” Updike’s face was a snarl.

  “Gentlemen, no disrespect, but you’re just telling me what to do.” He smirked. “I can’t negotiate from there.”

  “We are not negotiating.” Updike’s voice dropped an octave. “God’s commands must be obeyed.”

  “Commands?” Barnstable frowned. “I prefer a discussion.”

  “We do not have time to discuss anything with an overseer. Speak to your master the Prime, and tell him this: The Lord thy God knows thee Pharaoh in whatever disguise you wear. Tell the moneylenders, that all their wealth and power must be transferred to Archangel Tower Ministries Accounts to be divided amongst the religions of the world. A new age is upon us, and a new theocracy must be formed that will support the flock. This will be accomplished without negotiation before twenty-four hours have passed. If you do not comply the Wrath of God shall fall upon the City, and upon the mansions of the rich and idolaters!”

  “Gentlemen, be reasonable, I didn’t even know you were upset.” Barnstable spoke quickly. “I don’t think it’s possible, what you’re asking, even if I had a reason to comply.”

  “The fire that starts shall burn the world. The same fire that smote Sodom and Gomorrah.” Updike’s face was a passionate tangle of red. “This is the beginning for the Lord has spoken, and those who bear His sword shall live in Heaven. Those who oppose His will shall join the fallen in Hellfire.”

  “Gentlemen,” Barnstable said after a thoughtful moment, “if you have a proposal in hand, I’d happily present it to committee.” He made a dismissive gesture with his fingers. “I don’t have the power to do what you’re asking.” He stood up, his shoulders broad and impressive. “I am just the mayor of the City of Light and answer to a higher authority.”

  “Higher than God’s?” Stoneworthy bellowed. “How truly blind is the moneylender? How committed you are to your false god.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the office clutching Stoneworthy’s arm.

  That meeting had taken place eight hours before. Updike dragged Stoneworthy from City Hall into the waiting limousine and ordered the driver to take them to the Rebirth Foundation Compound. Stoneworthy was intrigued. He had heard about the Compound, located some thirty miles to the west of the Foundation proper. The facility housed the dead, and ran a commune of sorts. But this scattered knowledge of it left him unprepared for what he saw.

  The compound was hidden in forested mountains, and at first glance, looked more like a military base than a hospice. A tent city of gargantuan proportion filled the valley for many miles. It was an army!

  Tents and simple barracks stretched out over the hilly terrain as far as he could see. The soldiers were spread out on the wide parade ground trampled into a four-mile wide circle of grass at the end of the valley.

  Though they were of all nationalities and races, they were dead and so equal in every way save one: some appeared so freshly deceased that they were barely recognizable as such; others were so far gone, that they had to be supported by comrades or had been augmented by the Foundation’s teams of miracle workers.

  It was his second exposure to others who shared his dead state. His first reaction was sadness, followed by mute horror at the realization that he was one of them. But then the sympathy in their looks moved him to tears.

  The limousine had dropped Stoneworthy and Updike by a central building with a small platform in front. They climbed the steps and were greeted by cheers from the assembled dead. Stoneworthy was astonished to see that Oliver Purdue himself—Updike’s first recovery—awaited them. The dead man embraced him, his eyes a blur of milky tears.

  “Welcome brother,” he breathed. “I grieve. I rejoice.”

  Stoneworthy looked into Purdue’s eyes and knew what he meant. To lose his life was the worst of all possible outcomes, and yet, he had to feel great happiness at being welcomed to these ranks of the dead—for it was where all men must go.

  51 – Time for Action

  “Tell that grave-digging son of a bitch to fuck himself!” the Prime thundered into the phone. Some ambient energy in the atmosphere gave the connection an annoying hum. “And none of your pandering! There is no voting block to consider, no sympathetic public conscience that you have to suck up to. You answer to me! ”

  The Prime rubbed a fat-fingered hand across his brow. Mayor Barnstable called to deliver an ultimatum from that lunatic Captain Jack Updike about redistributing Westprime’s wealth. Easy to do when it isn’t your money! It would be laughable if the corpse-hugger didn’t carry a sizeable supply of public goodwill to underwrite it. All those families reunited: all those fresh-cheeked zombies. Insanity!

  But he knew enough about Updike to understand that the disgraced army chaplain would not make a demand like that unless he could back it up. Redistribute wealth? Give me a fucking break.

  “Prime, sir.” Barnstable’s voice continued clear and firm. The Prime had bullied any sycophantic qualities out of him long ago. “Of course, Updike’s ultimatum is ridiculous. I am simply stating that local Enforcement Division has kept an eye on Updike’s Rebirth Foundation. He has close to a half million followers that we know of—with the vast majority of them dead!”

  “So what?” The Prime drew a reassuring breath into his heavy chest and an electric thrill ran up his spine. His Demon Ally was right then: An army of dead will start the final war. All of this fit the captive’s prophecy too, that the First-mother would one day be his: With the loss of her guardian the world would begin again. And his terrestrial and Infernal agents were working on the second part: When you know the God-wife Cawood before me, all the world will tremble. Then the bitch disappeared.

  Trusting his intuition had paid off. Wait until those bastards see how far I’m willing to go. And if they win they’ll see that I’m redefining the phrase: take no prisoners.

  “Barnstable, you make me sick. I am aware of the numbers at the Foundation. I ordered the investigation into his organization! It’s called taking the initiative. You keep getting caught down memory lane—glad-handing the population, and they haven’t had a fair vote in decades. I told City Authority to keep tabs on all those dead bastards. I’ve been watching them for years. And Operatives recently reported an exodus of the dead from Zero and One. They’re all headed into the countryside.”

  He held the phone away to chuckle. “What did you think, Barnstable? They were just going to disappear? They have their own towns and militias for Christ’s sakes! I’ve got Operatives everywhere, and I know Updike’s forces are digging up any artifact, commandeering any vehicle, and siphoning every drop of gasoline from every abandoned gas station they can find. Do you know what he plans to do?” The Prime let his tirade hang in the air a moment. “Start giving out ultimatums!”

  “Sir!” Barnstable blurted.

  “And he’s got a bigger force gathering south of us, and one to the west. While Updike bu
ilt this army you sat on your hands. I can tell you their locations and numbers. They tried to hide by breaking their forces into smaller groups to settle different abandoned towns like they were just poor old dead folk. But my Operatives have collected enough information to prove that they’re quite capable of attacking the City!” The Prime smiled inwardly. The Rebirth Foundation was on the list of targets that he’d given to General Topp.

  “Prime, sir.” Barnstable’s voice was shaken. “How should I respond?”

  “Tell him we don’t negotiate with terrorists!” The Prime’s anger blew out of him like steam.

  “Won’t that provoke him?” Barnstable’s voice shook.

  “That’s the idea.” The Prime threw his bulk out of his chair. “I want a war with them. This kind of insurrection is the last thing the City needs. There are other powers in the world with weapons pointed at us—and we have to worry about civil war? Believe me, our enemies abroad are watching how we handle our enemies at home. We have to show them we’re willing to make the hard choices. I want every potential enemy on this godforsaken planet to wet his pants remembering what I do to Updike’s army of the dead.” The office suddenly seemed cramped and confined to the leader of Westprime. The ceiling weighed down on him.

  “And the beauty is, they’re already dead.” He chuckled. “The bleeding hearts will balk but it will be token criticism—what dead couples do you invite over for dinner?” He twisted the phone cord around his thick knuckles. “If Updike’s forces show any indication of trying to make his threat real, we’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “But…” A high-pitched quaver entered Barnstable’s voice.

  “This is an opportunity for us to show the world we won’t be pushed around—and we’re willing to put the dead problem into perspective.” He nodded to himself. The Prime clenched his thick fingers around Updike’s imaginary throat. “The world is watching.”

  “How will we?” Barnstable cherry-picked one.

  “Don’t concern yourself,” the Prime said. “I pay you to run the City. I’ve got the country’s back.”

  “So I await your orders?” the mayor asked.

  “Call Updike now! Don’t let the clock run out,” he chortled. “And don’t worry about the media. I’ll gag the Big Three.” He owned the major media stations and distribution hubs.

  The line buzzed and crackled. He could hear the mayor’s faint breathing as the fool puzzled his way through the ramifications.

  “I can see your logic.” Barnstable said. “It is extreme, but I can’t see the public—the living—being upset about it for long. Studies have shown that most living people are uncomfortable with the dead. As long as we’re ready for the backlash—if there is one.”

  A fucking study! The Prime’s shoulders sagged as he thought that over. There won’t be anyone left for a backlash… Rage seethed in him momentarily. He pushed a pile of papers off his desk.

  “Listen, Barnstable. You are beginning to worry me. I’m afraid I didn’t get to you in time. Forget democracy! You work for International Credit Co. The public will be fine. Just shake hands and smile for the camera.”

  “Should we give Updike an ultimatum?” Barnstable was thinking; that gave the Prime a little more confidence.

  “Just tell him we do not negotiate with terrorists.” He crossed to the office window that overlooked the oceanfront. Cloud and heavy mist covered the distant Sunken City. “We have to draw the line.”

  “Very well, sir.” The mayor paused. “I would appreciate updates as the situation progresses.”

  The Prime’s mind went blank with rage. His Demon organ uncurled and pushed against the inside of his trousers. Barnstable? Really? He shook his head in silent communion with the damned member. First time for everything…

  The mayor grew uncomfortable with the silence. “Thank you, Prime. I will report to you after I contact Updike.”

  The Prime dropped the receiver into its cradle. All this talk of war and power agreed with his second penis. He wanted a girl child—badly…but remembered his Ally’s caution. The girl children did not respond well to his intentions, and they rarely survived—and there was the chance that one of them was the First-mother. He needed the girl children for the new age that would come. After the Change, he planned to repopulate the planet in his own image and he’d already been a glutton with the girls at the Orphanage.

  Then he thought of the First-mother. If he had her—if he had her! The sending had brought some girls in that matched the Ally’s description…one even had a guardian. The Prime’s special servants would soon divine the truth.

  After coming to full power he no longer felt it necessary to keep his game face when it came to the forever children. For years he’d allowed social workers and Children’s Aid representatives access and limited participation in his Orphanage’s programs. But his desires caused him indiscretions and the use of Powers required certain unexplainable disappearances that undermined the ruse. So the participation of interested parties was reduced and eventually stopped. Any legal argument was tied up in court for decades and if anyone pushed too hard, he was likely to disappear or suffer some violent end in the unpredictable World of Change: either at the hands of the Prime’s agents outright—charges of sexual interference on a child were easy to arrange, or the Prime’s other Powers could come to bear and the children’s advocate would be devoured by a Demon.

  The thought of enjoying the First-mother caused his Demon organ to grow rigid with violence. He’d have to make do with a secretary. Or better, he’d interview someone from the temp pool of pre-Change twenty-something women—someone with youthful looks—yes…

  As he dug into his desk for the personnel file the Prime enjoyed the waves of pleasure rippling through his augmented body. He would answer Updike’s challenge. Apocalypse was being invoked and it would go badly for anyone who hesitated. He smiled at the notion of burning thousands of walking corpses. Then he found the personnel file and opened it. A resume fell out. Gods had to be willing to make sacrifices too.

  52 – Battle Cry

  Updike returned from the central building. He’d stepped in to speak with Oliver Purdue before taking a forwarded call. He had spoken on the phone. It took the army an hour or more to gather its ranks and arrange itself in the wide valley. Their numbers weighed on Stoneworthy’s mind. They were dead, but he could see life in their eyes, excitement as Updike approached the center of the stage. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

  “Let us pray,” Updike said over the microphone before taking it from the stand and dropping to his knee. Stoneworthy knelt by him. Thousands of dead did the same. A great rustling of dried and brittle bodies filled the air with sound as the army knelt in supplication—echoed by the rattle and clink of armament multiplied many times. It came in a noisy tide of sound. Those desiccated to inflexibility that could not kneel, bowed their heads, or were helped to their knees by their dead brethren. “Our Father Who art in Heaven…” Updike began, the speakers echoed.

  And Stoneworthy felt his thoughts fly outward, whisking before him to join the collective soul of the army. There was a great silence, overshadowed slightly by the fibrous clicking actions of dead lips mouthing words of prayer. Stoneworthy felt the first surge of power. Somewhere deep inside his soul he understood that the multitude before him looked to Updike and to him for guidance. It was intoxicating.

  As each of Updike’s words was echoed, Stoneworthy felt his own chest expand with the collected breath of their followers. He understood the forlorn reality of the dead, and yet, even in that finality, he did not need rest. The Reverend did not need it, as the others did not, for there could be no rest until righteousness had won out. This final injustice would be resisted, and recompense delivered. But how he craved it. He could feel the unwelcome deadness of his body, could feel the stiffening of his joints and flesh. Soon, he hoped, the end.

  He was as dead as humanity’s aspirations—as wanting of life as its best intentions. Humanity had used deat
h as the great escape for far too long. God took that away from man so he could understand there is no rest in death. Stoneworthy whispered: “Atonement.”

  “Amen!” Updike breathed into the microphone and stood. The time of reckoning had come. There followed a rising tide of sound as the gathering climbed to its feet. Updike allowed them a moment to collect themselves. And then he began to speak:

  “Brothers and sisters, friends, Apocalypse approaches. Come get with me. A New World is here unfolding, and the light that causes this blossoming comes from the blazing righteousness in your souls. Come get with me. Before this flower can come full bloom, there has been a winter. And this winter has been the World of Change. You have been with me.” In the crowd, Stoneworthy heard spirited “Amen’s” rise up. Updike seemed to grow in size upon the stage.

  “You have walked through the valley of the shadow of death like no others in human history. Come get with me. You walk past the crumbling truths of the Old World: Profit! Greed! Idolatry! Lust! Come get with me. Yet we have not stopped the sins and so have sinned. You have been with me.” He raised his arms, and the gathering groaned.

  “And because we are sinners, we are punished. God knows our hearts. He has watched us. He has seen the righteous struggle. Seen the martyrs die. But He has stayed His mighty hand. He watches us tempted by the Devil, sees us fall—and yet He waits. He waits in grace and patience. He waits because He loves us. Come get with me!”

  The Army of the Dead roared its approval. “Hallelujah’s” rang across the valley. Updike waited a moment, looked at Stoneworthy and made a sign of encouragement before continuing.

  “The Lord chased us from the Garden of Eden, and gave us this world to call our own. For generations we listened to the words of God handed down to us through Moses. When we wandered in the wilderness, God led us. The Lord did not abandon us. And how have we shown our gratitude? Instead of working hard for our souls we worked hard for gold. We abandoned Him!” Updike paused scowling. His eyes burned.