by Jack J. Lee
In Iraq and Afghanistan, you’re nothing if you don’t have a tribe. Tribes are essential when your government cannot or will not enforce its laws. If/when society broke down I needed help growing and gathering food. I couldn’t adequately defend my ranch by myself. Eight ranch hands weren’t going to be enough. I needed more men. Becoming the next FLDS prophet would solve my need for manpower.
Every Saturday after breakfast, the boys went back home so they could go to Sunday Sacrament services. They came back late Sunday evening. I let them use one of my vehicles to drive back and forth. The FLDS didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. They didn’t watch movies. Only a few privileged members had access to computers and the internet. There were no game consoles. If a book, newspaper, or magazine wasn’t approved, the FLDS didn’t read it.
The only entertainment the FLDS had readily available was gossip. The boys went back every Saturday night with stories about me. Within a week or two everyone in Hildale and Colorado City knew that I was born in Israel and that I could speak and write Hebrew. They knew that my eyes flashed red and that I was an expert in martial arts. They knew I lived and acted like I was FLDS. I matched Darren’s prophecies exactly.
By August, except for the North and South American continents, the entire world had been overrun by zombies. People were panicking. Almost every business and organization was short staffed. People throughout the country were taking vacation and sick leave time to prepare for zombies. Some just stopped showing up for work. In late August, Utah State Prison stopped letting Darren have phone calls without explanation. It may have been due to lack of personnel or lack of funding; it could have been purely arbitrary. His visiting times were also decreased. I got the feeling that he was getting worried about me. The change in the prison rules must have driven him crazy.
He was probably regretting his prophesies. I could picture him wondering, “Now, how do I convince my followers that my last five visions were vivid dreams caused by bad prison food?”
His father Rulon had gotten away with making multiple incorrect prophecies; his father had been loved. Rulon was a dirty old man who liked having sex with willing women. Darren was a sexual deviant who preyed on his own family and people. He wasn’t loved. He was barely hanging on to his position. He clearly didn’t think he had the ability to have his prophesies go wrong and still stay in power because he didn’t try to change them. He sent men to check on me. A couple times a week, some of the higher up FLDS men came to my place to visit the boys.
My ranch hands were constantly being asked about me. My audio surveillance revealed that they had all been told to spy on me. They hated to do this, seeing it as a betrayal. All the boys had been questioned extensively by the FLDS hierarchy. They denied telling me anything about the FLDS community. They were telling the truth. Everything I had learned about the FLDS had been gained without their knowledge. The next morning when I said grace over breakfast I said, “Lord, teach us that truth cannot be a betrayal. The young instruct the old with truth and their truth will be our salvation.”
I could see the awe and relief on the boys’ faces. Awe because somehow I had known that they were told to spy on me and relief because I had given them permission to tell their elders the truth about me. The boys were becoming more and more convinced that I was the new prophet. I knew too many things without being told. Almost every night after I left, they discussed Darren’s prophecy.
Graydon had the prophecy memorized.
“The beasts will come to our nation and the sinners will die. Look deep into your heart and in your brother’s for some of you will turn to the dark. The faithful will endure, but to do this they must destroy the minions of evil. Those who hesitate will fall into damnation. After the first beast, there will come another, more deadly and monstrous. These demons will not be solely of the dark. They are fallen angels given a chance to redeem themselves. Feed them the sinners. They are sent not by the adversary but by the light to cleanse the earth. If they succeed they will be allowed to return into our Father’s grace. A saint ordained by the Father can release them from the earth to return to their once and future home in the Celestial Kingdom. Seek the third risen prophet; he will guide you. You shall know him by his eyes which burn with the flames of God’s wrath. He has been born of the Holy Land from whence our savior Jesus Christ came. His soul has traveled twice to the halls of the Father and has been cleansed of all sin. He has been gifted with the powers of heaven. He will see into men’s hearts. He will be able to destroy by touch and word. He will cleanse the chosen; he will harvest the saved and cast out the damned. He will lead you out of the darkness and into the Garden of Eden.”
To me, the prophecy sounded like generic crap, but the boys believed it was the roadmap of the future. They had decided the first beast referenced zombies. They had no idea what the following monster would be but they were certain that one would come. They were excited to be living through the end-of-days and they were constantly arguing about how I would ‘destroy by the word’. Graydon thought that I would just shout “die” and then the sinner would collapse. Tom, the youngest of the boys, was convinced that a super powerful sound wave would come out of my mouth and blow up whoever was in my way. He was of the opinion that my voice worked like the trumpets that blew down the walls of Jericho.
Periodically I slipped facts into my conversations that I shouldn’t have known. Months before, I set up a video camera on the highway just outside Hildale that could read the license plates of the vehicles leaving and coming back to town. The cameras were linked to software that tracked the movements of all the vehicles owned by the FLDS. I knew when the FLDS left and came back into town. I planted small audio recorders in the heels of my boys’ shoes.
Inductive charging is a wonderful thing. I had the boys take their shoes off when they went indoors. A bench was placed next to each mobile home entryway and there was a place for their shoes underneath. There was a charging station in the bench that created an alternating electromagnetic field. There was a second induction coil in the shoes which took power from the electromagnetic field and converted it to electricity to recharge the recorder’s batteries. A receiver in the bench wirelessly downloaded the audio files.
In late August, I asked one of the FLDS sent to check on me, Lavel Sondermann, how his trip to Darren Jeffries had gone. There was no way I or the boys could have known that Lavel had recently visited Jeffries. I knew the Utah State Prison’s visiting hours and knew about how long it took to drive to the prison in Draper. I made an educated guess that Lavel had gone to visit Darren. Lavel’s face went white. He didn’t know what to say. I was turning Lavel into a believer.
The FLDS leadership in Colorado City and Hildale split into two camps. One camp, which I named the ‘assholes’, claimed I was a false prophet sent by the devil. The other camp which I called the ‘go-alongs’ was open to the idea that I was the next prophet.
The assholes liked the way things were. They liked abusing power. They didn’t want anything to change, and if someone besides Darren became prophet, things would likely change. They were looking for every excuse to get rid of me.
Rulon Jeffries, the best I could tell, had been an honest nut who truly thought that he would live to 350. He liked to have sex with multiple wives. Although some of them were underage, all his wives looked mature and all were willing. Rulon wasn’t evil.
His son, on the other hand, had raped at least three young boys, married his father’s wives possibly including his biological mother, and admitted to abusing a sister and a daughter. He liked abusing the weak and less powerful. In 2004, when he excommunicated 20 men, he got rid of the guys who were like Rulon and promoted the guys who were like him. Darren Jeffries and the rest of the assholes were evil fucks.
A truly good man would have never stayed with the FLDS, but most men aren’t truly good. The go-alongs weren’t evil. They didn’t approve of what Darren was doing, but they didn’t have the strength or passion to resist their god-
chosen-prophet. My fortress showed them that I knew how to prepare for the worst. My boys claimed I did everything well. In the FLDS hierarchy, there were more go-alongs than assholes but the assholes were more passionate and forceful. The world wide zombie outbreak was making go-alongs anxious and the idea of having a competent leader was looking good. Everyone including Darren’s strongest supporters knew he wasn’t competent. The FLDS in Colorado City and Hildale were on a knife edge about what to do about me.
On the morning of September 11th, the boys and I were eating breakfast when the emergency broadcast signal came on the radio. I turned on my TV and saw live video of Manhattan being overrun by zombies. According to the reporters, in under an hour, half the NYC population turned into zombies. Every news channel I could find from the local St. George stations to the cable news networks showed footage of outbreaks all over the US. St. George was less than 50 miles away. The zombies were close.
We all went on top of my tower and tried to use binoculars to see into Colorado City. It was too far to make out many details but we could see plumes of smoke from multiple fires. We could make out the faint sounds of gunfire. The boys all wanted to go back home to help out. I told them that there were thousands of armed men in Hildale and Colorado City. A few more men wouldn’t make any difference. We needed to wait until things calmed down and until we knew how to help. None of the boys liked my decision but most were willing to listen to me. They were convinced that I was the prophet. I had to know what I was doing.
Tom Marsden, the youngest boy at 16, was the only one who refused to follow orders. When I interviewed him and all the rest of the boys, I went by instinct. I didn’t have anything else to go on. All the other ranch hands were exactly what I had been looking for. If I knew then, what I know now, I probably wouldn’t have hired Tom. Tom was a good kid. He was intelligent and had a natural understanding of the way things worked. Although he was the youngest, he was the quickest to figure out how to use new equipment and to fix mechanical problems.
If Tom had been raised like all the other ranch hands with moderately benign neglect, he would have been fine. But Tom had been severely abused. He tried his best to avoid undressing in public but he had to take his shirt off when he went swimming. His entire back was a mass of scars from old beatings. His right leg from the mid calf down was covered with burn scars. It looked like he had been dipped into boiling water when he was a small child.
From my audio surveillance, I learned that he had been abused by both parents. Not surprisingly, he hated them. He loved his younger sister and brother. I suspected his sister and brother were the only reasons he hadn’t run away. He was the only ranch hand that didn’t seem frightened of being excommunicated. None of the other boys were surprised by Tom’s scars. They lived in a small community. Malachi Marsden, Tom’s father was high up in the FLDS hierarchy. There were no consequences for a man in his position. I learned that Tom’s father and mother abused their entire extended family including some of the other younger wives. Rachel Marsden, Tom’s mother was a willing partner to Malachi. Malachi was the leader of the “asshole” camp.
Despite these signs of abuse, Tom usually had an easy temperament. On rare occasions, Tom lost his temper and went berserk. When he lost it, the only way he could be controlled was for the other boys to hold him down. Every Saturday, I could tell that he was reluctant to go home. Only his love for his younger sister and brother kept him going back. I could tell that when he returned to the ranch Sunday night, he was filled with guilt about leaving his siblings behind. I liked Tom but his tendency to go berserk was a liability that I didn’t need.
Tom lost it. His anxiety about his brother and sister set him off. The rest of the ranch hands started toward him. I motioned them off and stood to face him. I’m 5 foot, 8 inches tall and I weigh 155 pounds. I’m strong for my size but since I’m small, I’m not that strong. I am very, very fast. At 16, Tom was 6 feet tall and was 180 pounds of solid muscle. His ability to think was gone. He didn’t feel pain or fatigue. He didn’t have a chance.
Aikido is a martial art that was invented by the Japanese samurai to protect themselves on the rare occasions when their opponent had a sword and they didn’t. In its classic form, it is a primarily defensive art; it is all about not being where your opponent expects you to be. If an opponent can’t hit you, he can’t hurt you. An Aikido master avoids an attack by stepping closer to his opponent. Most attackers don’t expect someone to step toward them. Tom wasn’t thinking or planning. He was operating on instinct. Instincts are easy to predict. I knew what he was going to do before he did.
He threw a haymaker at me. I put up my hand and gently guided his fist away as I pivoted on my front foot and stepped around with my back so we ended up standing back to back, facing away from each other. Almost no one expects this move. He turned toward me. I could feel his torso moving through the pressure of his back on mine and I mirrored his movements.
If Tom had not been completely out of control and trying to kill me, or if I had a smile on my face, the rest of the boys would probably have started laughing. It can be amusing to watch someone trying to grab an opponent who is flat against their back and is mirroring all of their movements. My face was calm, concerned. With my body language, I made it clear to the rest of the boys that this wasn’t a time to laugh. While I mirrored Tom’s movements, I spoke, “Tom, our Father has a plan. Our lives on earth are just a tiny unimportant fragment of our eternal lives. He has been watching you. He knows what your brother and sister are going through. FLDS have lost their way. I promise you that Bret and Danielle are in our Father’s heart.”
As I spoke, he began sobbing; he didn’t stop trying to fight. After a couple of turns to either side to get at me that didn’t work, I could feel Tom’s body tense as he prepared to throw himself backward on top of me. As he pushed back against me, I dropped low. In a normal fight, as his center of mass tipped past me, I would have stood causing Tom’s head to whip toward the concrete slab under our feet. Instead I lowered my body. I guided him gently so he lay on his back.
It would have been easy then to choke him into unconsciousness. I didn’t. I allowed him to get up. He threw himself forward, trying to tackle me to the ground. Tom was so focused on his attack; he didn’t even put out his arms to protect his face as he fell. Before he hit the floor, I caught his wrists and pulled up so his head didn’t strike the floor. I ended up standing, facing him, holding his wrists while his body and arms were fully stretched out. He didn’t have the leverage to do anything but pull his arms toward him. I let his wrist go. Less than a minute had passed since he first threw a punch at me.
“Tom, our Heavenly Father has watched as the world has lapsed into sin. I have been sent to show you the way. Your suffering has not been in vain. You are not alone. There is a reason. There is a plan.”
Tom screamed. He had no words. All his life he had been abused by those who should have protected him. Despite this he had kept his faith in a loving God. He screamed with the pain and anguish of an abused child. Tom Marsden had been beaten so severely and so often that he had learned to cope by going berserk. Love has more power than fear or pain. Tom stopped fighting. For the first time in his life he was certain he was loved.
I pulled him up. I hugged him as if he were my son. I kissed his forehead, “Tom Marsden, I bless you. You are my first disciple. Our Heavenly Father loves you. He will not allow you to throw your life away. God has plans for you my child. It’s not yet time for you to enter his halls. I promise you that your brother and sister will soon be in a better place.”
I looked around at the rest of the boys. They had been watching in silence. Most had tears in their eyes. They all knew Tom’s history. I motioned them to kneel. “We are at the apocalypse. I have been sent to cleanse our people and lead them into the light.”
I walked to each boy, “I anoint you, upon you and your brethren I will rebuild God’s church.”
Chapter 14: Ari Levin, September 22nd, Yea
r O
On the morning of the 22nd, I woke to the sound of silence. There was no more gunfire coming from Colorado City. The smoke and the flames that could be seen yesterday to our west were gone. So far, here at the ranch, we hadn’t seen a single zombie.
It was time to see what was going on in town. I sent Graydon Minor, Tim Herndon, and Tom Marsden back to Colorado City. I told them to not take chances and to come back immediately if it looked dangerous. If the FLDS were ok, I told them to let the FLDS hierarchy know that we were doing well.
The fact that the outbreak occurred on September 11th convinced me that the zombies were no accident. This wasn’t the result of an aids vaccine gone bad. I’d been in the counter-terrorism business for most of my adult life. No organization that I have ever heard of had the technology to create zombie viruses. Even if it was humanly possible, there wasn’t a nation on Earth or terrorist organization that had the ability to successfully make and spread the virus throughout the world without other countries finding out who was responsible. With every intelligence service in the world trying to find out what was going on, there was no way a human organization could have kept everything secret. Once you’ve eliminated the impossible, the only explanation left no matter how improbable is usually correct.
The zombie outbreaks had to be a result of alien technology.
This explanation bothered me, “Why the hell would aliens go through the bother of making zombies? If they were that advanced, why not create a simple plague and be done with it?” I was reluctant to accept the alien theory.
I followed the news carefully. According to the scientists studying the zombie virus, it could only be transmitted by bite. This didn’t make any sense. The zombie outbreak wouldn’t have spread so quickly if this was true; twenty-four hours to take over an entire country was too fast. There had to be another form of transmission.
