Alphabet Soup for the Tormented Soul

by Tobias Wade

  The four men dragged my sister into God’s Chamber. The Minister and my parents followed. They left me alone in the tunnel. The sole person left whose loyalty and faith was left in question. It was a test. It had to be. They wanted to see if I would run away. They knew I wouldn’t. I loved my sister too much to leave her to suffer their insults and punishments alone.

  Entering into God’s Chamber, the smell of disgusting sewer trash was replaced with the smell of burning wood and incense. Warmth enveloped me, sending chills all through my body. It felt heavenly. Fire pits burned across the chamber. Worshipers stood at the sides of the fires with their Bibles in hand, praying.

  “Welcome to God’s Chamber,” Meisberger announced at the front of the room. “And a very special welcome to our latest arrivals, the Dayton family.”

  The Congregation responded with murmurs of welcome.

  “We are gathered here in the presence of God, the Prophet, and the Wise Unwashed to baptize the Dayton family into our church,” Meisberger said.

  “Let me go!” Barb pleaded. The Minister turned to one of the men who had dragged Barb into the chamber and nodded to him. The man backhanded her across the mouth. She yelped and went silent once more. Mom and Dad stood front and center at Meisberger’s podium. Complying with the unspoken request, I joined my parents. Mom took my hand into hers and squeezed. I didn’t want to hold her hand. I wanted nothing to do with them.

  In front of the podium, there was a large coffin, resembling an Egyptian sarcophagus. Or at least what I imagined one would look like. The side of it was ornately carved with two angels holding the world on their shoulders. The top was carved into the shape of a man with his arms crossed. An aura emanated around his features.

  “Drew Dayton, Linda Dayton, Barbra Dayton, and Raymond Dayton, step forward and accept the glory, the power, and the enlightenment of God”, Meisberger commanded.

  Dad stepped forward and dropped to his knees. Mom followed and pulled me down with her. Barb was dragged next to me and forced down. My heart broke for her. Meisberger stepped down from his podium and went to my father first.

  “Drew Dayton, do you give yourself and your family to the Prophet and God until the day of your death and beyond?”

  “I, Drew Dayton, give myself and my family to the Prophet and God until the day of my death and beyond,” Dad answered.

  One of the worshipers handed The Minister a bottle of wine. He uncorked it and poured the wine over my father’s head.

  “Will you accept the Blood bond between Man and God?” Meisberger asked.

  “I am one with God,” Dad replied.

  The Minister tipped the bottle into my father’s mouth and he drank. Meiseberger moved to my mother next and performed the same ritual, then came to me next.

  “Raymond Dayton, do you give yourself to the Prophet and God until the day of your death?” Meisberger asked.

  With no other choice available to me, I replied, “I, Raymond Dayton, give myself over to the Prophet and God until the day of my death,” following in line with my father and mother. Meisberger poured the wine over my head. It gave me chills despite its warmth. He lifted my head and poured wine into my mouth. It tasted sour and spoiled, along with something else, with a muted metallic aftertaste. Meisberger then reached out and grabbed my hand. He lifted me to my feet and held my hand in his.

  “The blood of the Prophet and God run through your veins now!” Meisberger yelled throwing both our hands into the air. The Congregation clapped and cheered furiously. Mom and Dad looked pleased with themselves. I hated everyone around me.

  Barb looked like she was going to be sick again. Meisberger noticed her and his expression changed. His eyes went cold against the warmth he’d shown only a moment before. He raised his fist into the air and the chamber went silent. All eyes returned to him once more.

  “Barbra,” the Minister called, filling the chamber with the boom of his voice, “It is time to choose. Would you like to join our family? Do you want to walk in God’s warming light? For the sake of your eternal soul, I do hope you reconsider your position,” Meisberger asked.

  It was at that moment, Barb looked away from the Minister and turned to me. She didn’t ask aloud. She didn’t need to. Her eyes said it all. They begged for an answer. All eyes turned to me then and I realized I had no other choice. I went to my sister, placed a hand upon her shoulder, and told her to join our family. She burst into tears and among the sobs mumbled something which I couldn’t understand.

  Meisberger came forward and placed his finger under her chin lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

  “Barbra Dayton, before entering this holy chamber, you confessed your desire to fornicate with the darkness and the Unwashed. By your own admission, you wished to be a whore to the Unwashed and those who walk in the darkness. Do you deny those claims now? Do you choose to walk in the warmth of God’s light?”

  “Yes…,” Barb whimpered.

  “Barbra Dayton, do you give yourself over to the Prophet and God until the day of your death and beyond?”

  “Yes…,” she whimpered again. He poured the remaining wine from the bottle over her head and then placed the lip of the bottle against hers. Barb took the wine into her mouth and spit it out. It sprayed across the Minister’s face and clothing.

  The Congregation gasped collectively.

  “You sick fuck! This is blood!” Barbra shouted at Meisberger. A chill went through me. Meisberger did not react to being spit on. He continued like nothing happened.

  “Dayton family, God has blessed you with his blood as he has blessed the rest of our Congregation. God gives his blessings and demands faith, prayer, and sacrifice in return. Kneel before God and reciprocate his merciful gesture,” Meisberger said.

  Mom and Dad went to the sarcophagus. I followed their lead and kneeled next to them. Barb stayed in place. Meisberger nodded once more to the group of men who came forward to force her to join us.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Barb shouted while being pushed forward. The Minister stood patiently in front of the sarcophagus. Once Barb was in her rightful place, two men held her there. Meisberger gave them a nod, thanking them. In his hand, the Minister held an elaborate jewel-encrusted dagger, stained with blood. My heart pounded in my chest.

  “Drew Dayton, God demands tribute. Serve him as you have sworn,” Meisberger said. He dragged the dagger across his own hand and grimaced. He placed his hand over the mouth of the figure carved on the sarcophagus and dripped blood into it.

  Following the Minister’s actions, Dad swiped the dagger across his palm and fed the sarcophagus. Mom followed next. She let out a cry as she cut her hand open and gave her blood to God. When Mom passed the dagger to me, I felt as if I would lose my nerve. I didn’t know if I could play along with the façade of those religious zealots. My hands trembled at the sight of the blood on the dagger. The handle was slippery with it.

  “Raymond, pay God his respect,” Meisberger urged. His serious, lizard-like face watched my hand intently. With a weapon, I realized I had an opportunity to end this charade and show the Congregation this was no Prophet or Emissary of God. Of course, I’d be killed afterward, or worse. I wondered if it would be worth it, and came to the conclusion it would not. Meisberger may survive the stabbing and it would all be for nothing. Barb would suffer still. It would all be meaningless.

  I swallowed hard, clenched my jaw, and sliced my palm. I approached the burial tomb and placed my hand over the mouth like Mom and Dad had done. Blood spilled inside. Meisberger came and pressed my hand down to cover the figure’s mouth.

  Something inside the sarcophagus touched me. I cried out and tried to pull my hand away. Meisberger held it in place. Whatever laid inside, lapped up the blood from the wound with a slippery cold tongue. It swept over the length of my palm, sucking at the blood with a grotesque slurp. These were the longest seconds of my life. Meisberger released my hand and pointed for me to return to my family.

/>   “God works in mysterious ways. Ways the Unwashed shall never understand. We, the Faithful, worship a powerful God. A true God. A God of action and love who does not allow for suffering of his flock. Place your faith in God, for all things are possible through him and him alone,” Meisberger said.

  He lifted his hand to the Congregation and showed his palm. The wound had vanished. I looked at my own and saw the unbelievable. My wound was gone too. The Congregation gasped once more, this time in delight. I looked to Barb to see her astonishment matched my own.

  “Barbra Dayton,” Meisberger called out. “God has chosen you for Salvation. You reject his selection. You reject your father’s authority,your mother’s guidance. You commit blasphemy in the presence of God and the Prophet, and resist our efforts to bring you to the light and warmth of God’s eternal glory.”

  The astonishment on Barb’s face vanished. In its place, fear took hold. She trembled and tried to stand. The men continued to hold her down. She squirmed and received another backhand to the chin for her troubles. It dazed her. I could tell she was seeing stars.

  “Perhaps this is why God favors you among us the most. You need God’s love most of all. God has commanded me to bring you closer to his being,” Meisberger announced. He waved a hand to the sarcophagus and the men dragged Barbra forward. She screamed and kicked with the last of her remaining might and spirit. My sister fought and fought. Something I was too cowardly to do myself. I wished I would have fought them too.

  “Honey, don’t resist! God chose you!” Mom encouraged. Dad held Mom in his arms. Tears of happiness streamed down both their faces.

  A set of older women approached the men who held Barb. They yanked and pulled at her clothes. I closed my eyes and covered my ears. It didn’t help drown out the screams and the tearing fabric of her clothing. The crowd surrounding her finished their task easily. She stood before the Congregation naked and pale. I couldn’t stand to look at her.

  Four of the men had peeled off from the group. They went to the sarcophagus and together moved the heavy stone lid to the side. The smell of ancient rot wafted out of the opened tomb. It was like a dead animal left out in the heat. It overpowered the smell of the burning wood and incense. My eyes watered. I gagged.

  Those holding Barb guided her to the sarcophagus. Barb fought them. Where she found the energy, I’ll never know. Amidst her screams, cries, and sobs, she pleaded for me to help her. When she finally reached the sarcophagus and looked inside, the panic in Barb’s eyes burned into my memories. Something broke inside her. The panicked frenzy of her struggle ceased. A far-gone look filled her eyes. Whatever she had seen had forced her to surrender to her fate.

  Meisberger dismissed the men from Barb with a wave of his hand. They released my sister. She stood stupefied at the mouth of the sarcophagus staring down into it.

  “And we commit Barbra Dayton’s body and soul to God for peace everlasting,” Meisberger said. He scooped my sister into his arms like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. A set of withered old hands reached out from inside the sarcophagus to meet the descending Barb. The Minister set her down into those ancient arms and followed them until they were inside the sarcophagus together. With another wave of his hand, the four men returned to slide the lid back into its rightful place. God’s Chamber fell into silence once more. The Congregation bowed their heads in prayer.

  I expected Barb to scream. To cry out. To give one last shout or sign of distress. There was nothing but the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

  It was the last time I ever saw my sister.

  Five weeks passed after our inauguration into the Congregation. Every morning started prayer. After breakfast, Meisberger presented us with a lecture on his Bible and then everyone went to the front of the room and slit their palm with a blade. The blood was collected into wine bottles as their sacrifice to God. These wounds did not heal. These were painful and prone to infections. This was common among the Congregation. The wounds would only heal when we went into God’s Chamber to directly deposit our blood into God's mouth.

  Dad quit his job in the city, broke the lease on our old apartment, and moved the few precious belongings Meisberger allowed us to have into the old distillery. Mom was pregnant. I had a new brother or sister on the way. We wouldn’t know anything until the baby was born. Even for emergencies, women were not allowed to see doctors. I hoped the baby would be born healthy, but I didn’t care if Mom lived or died afterward. Same with Dad. I hadn’t spoken to them since the night they abandoned their daughter to be sacrificed to whatever was inside the sarcophagus.

  Living among the Congregation, worship in God’s Chamber was rare. In five weeks, we had only gone there three times to directly give blood. The Congregation was able to access the chamber through a door in the basement. This also provided access to the door leading to the sewer tunnels and the outside world. It was only a matter of gathering the courage and waiting for my chance to escape.

  Five weeks after losing Barb, I gathered the courage to leave and made my move when I was sure it was the right time. Waiting until it was early in the morning, I got out of bed and crept through the men’s living quarters in the dark. I couldn’t risk lighting my candle yet. Once outside the room, at a snail’s pace to ensure no one could hear my footsteps, I went through the distillery until I reached the basement door. Once in the basement, I lit the candle. A knot twisted in my stomach with the memories of Meisberger’s words coming back to me.

  “So long as the warmth of their light touches you, your soul shall remain pure and worthy of God’s attention and love.”

  It was only a matter of getting into God’s Chamber again and past the sewer tunnel door. With no one around, I rushed through the basement and opened the door to the Chamber.

  With the firepits extinguished and no incense burning, the smell in God’s Chamber was more potent than ever. The sarcophagus sat in the shadow of Meisberger’s podium. In the days leading up to my escape, I resolved to not bother with it. Escaping the Congregation was the goal. All else was unnecessary. Yet, I still found myself standing in front of it. There was no one to stop me from doing what I had dismissed as unnecessary and only dreamed of for the sake of revenge. I didn’t think the opportunity would present itself. I thought I’d be sprinting at full speed out of the chamber and into the sewers with the congregation chasing close behind.

  The mouth of the figure on the sarcophagus was wide enough to fit the candle. The choice now was to either get my revenge and navigate the tunnels with no light source, or focus on my best chance at escaping. My mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons, time was slipping by with more and more chances of getting discovered out of bed. What kept popping into my head was how much of a coward I had been during the time Barb needed me the most.

  Leaving without destroying it would be nothing short of cowardice once again on my part. I vowed since my sister’s death not to be cowed or intimidated. I wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

  Searching the extinguished fire pits, I saw exactly what I needed among the charred remains. A long, thin strip of wood sat at the side of one of the pits. It would serve me well for a torch.

  Using the candle on the piece of wood, it took a few seconds of direct application for it to catch. From there it was only a matter of doing what needed to be done. I went to the sarcophagus and placed the burning candle over the mouth where an unimaginable amount of blood had fed whatever lived inside. As I was about to release it, a voice called out from inside. It was Barb’s.

  “Please, Ray, don’t do this! I’m still alive!”

  I couldn’t believe my ears at the sound of Barb’s voice. Hope filled my heart for only an instant before I realized I truly couldn’t believe my ears. Whatever rested inside the sarcophagus did yield power. It demonstrated it to me when it took Barb. Whether or not it was a God, the God, or something else entirely, I didn’t care. It took my sister from me. It had tried to use my memo
ry of her to ward off its impending doom.

  “Goodbye, Barb,” I said and dropped the candle into the mouth hole.

  The sarcophagus burst into flames. The creature inside howled in agony. I can still hear it in my mind and its suffering brings me delight. But I couldn’t stick around to enjoy it. I ran to the tunnel door and into the sewers. Navigating them was confusing;each twist and turn just led to another dead end. The torch was nearly at its end,its heat was uncomfortable and burning my fingers. Just as I was forced to drop it, I rounded a corner and saw daylight glimmering off the water from a tunnel up ahead..

  I ran out into the morning light. Not knowing where I was or where to go, I ran further into the woods with the hopes of the trees covering my escape. I hadn’t heard anyone coming in the tunnels and I hadn’t seen anyone outside either. I was alone.

  The woods weren’t as dense or large as I had imagined. Running through them for a few minutes, I came out to a busy road. Cars were passing by. Shops were open. People were leaving their apartments. They wore a rainbow of colors other than black. It felt surreal. I thought I was dreaming!

  With a renewed vigor, I sprinted down the street to a Dunkin Donuts. The strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I charged past the people waiting in line at the register and asked them if I could use their phone to call the police.

  The police came to the Dunkin’ Donuts and took me down to the station. I told them everything about Minister Meisberger, my parents, and the Congregation's living area a few blocks away.

  Hours later, police cars swarmed the distillery and discovered the Congregation had fled. The officers at the scene said the building smelled like smoke and charred flesh. No one was inside. It appeared as if everyone had dropped what they had been doing and ran.

  A BOLO was put out on a group of people dressed in all black traveling with small children. It became unnecessary once the police discovered the sewer system beneath the distillery connected and branched off to a bunch of different places. It would take forever to send officers to check each location. It was already too late. The Congregation had escaped.