Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ

by Brandon Messerschmidt

The Jacksons stood on a make-shift stage which guards had apparently constructed near the storied Blood Fountain. A vibrant red cloth was draped over the plywood under their feet, though it looked as though the fabric had originally been an egg-shell white before bearing witness to the geyser's many eruptions.

  Terry stood with three magnificent throne-like chairs to his left, positioned near the center of the podium, and Michelle clinging to his arm on his right. He could tell that his wife felt extremely self-conscious, standing there with every man, woman and child that called Wormwood home looking over the couple from the other side of the crater. They were kept a few yards away from the hole in the Earth by a length of rope stretched out before them. There was a similar space between the geyser and the stage, the ground there stained heavily with a dried red substance that colored the dirt.

  The citizens of this place were no pleasure to behold; each looking more famished than the last in their burlap clothing. The sight reminded Michelle of newsreels she'd seen as a teenager depicting the inhumanities of Auschwitz and Dachau during the invasion of Nazi Germany. Most were painted with the hideous lesions the Alexanders referred to as the Mark of Cain, apparently some sort of plague that attacked the bodies of sinners.

  They were excitable too, many of them laughing or shouting out to declare that they were ready for the show to begin. If The Jacksons didn't know better, they'd have sworn that James Brown was about to jump out behind them and sing Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag from atop one of the thrones.

  One of the ornately dressed guards stepped onto the stage, drawing the crowd’s attention away from the unwitting guest attractions. A hush fell over the mass of souls as he raised a French horn to his lips and belted out a sustained and chilling note somewhere in the middle of the scale. The people silent now, he drew a deep breath and climbed through the register, building to a breath-taking crescendo as he broke into an expert version of Pomp & Circumstance.

  Without further adue, The Alexanders made their grand entrance. Two guards led the way, unfurling a heavy maroon carpet as they marched over the muddy field from the Grand Lodge. Jonas was the next in line, smiling widely to his subjects as polite applause coupled with the tune to serenade him toward the stage. Sandra was close behind him, waiving in the silly pretentious manner that is often attributed to royalty.

  It took forever for them to reach their thrones, the couple dragging it out with their short and rhythmic steps in time to the music. When they finally stood next to the Jacksons Sandra signaled for the musical guard to quiet his song. A hush fell over the crowd once more and the woman projected as firmly as she could to be sure her announcement was heard.

  "Ladies and gentlemen!" She started. "I give to you now - the chosen wife of The King! My beautiful daughter; Misses Jessica Amber Alexander!"

  A deafening roar erupted at the introduction, the crowd shifting suddenly towards the carpeted path as guards struggled to hold them back. Jessica emerged from the Grand Lodge to an ovation the likes of which the Jacksons had never heard. The people were clamoring to be near her; knocking each other over and trampling those that fell in their fight to get even one step closer to her side.

  The girl blushed at the attention, her cheeks turning as red as her gown as she misted the wall of people with her glistening atomizer along the route to the stage. Jonas and Sandra cheered for her as well, her father raising his arms in victory as her mother wept tears of joys and pride. The man with the horn blew feverishly into his instrument, the notes barely audible over the din.

  "What's that tune he's playing?" Michelle shouted in Terry's ear so that he might understand.

  "Here Comes The Bride..." He returned in awe of the spectacle.

  The uproar only quieted once she had reached the stage, hugging her parents and directing them to sit down on the thrones to the left and right of center, which would be saved for her. She sprayed herself one more time with the fragrant mist from her atomizer before speaking to the gathered, clutching the thing tightly in her hands.

  "Citizens of Wormwood." She started with a notable affect in her voice. "Welcome, once again, to the blessing of the Blood Fountain!"

  Pausing for another round of applause, she smiled at the Jacksons. They obliged in returning her grin, though it was forced by both of them.

  "We have two very special guests this evening - sent to us by the Bridegroom himself! Please, make them feel welcome; Mister and Misses Terry Jackson!"

  The couple waived to the crowd, a considerably lesser degree of praise being offered to them from the audience.

  "You'll be pleased to hear," She added. "The Bridegroom visited me again this morning! He wanted me to tell all of you how pleased he is with us as a community!"

  Michelle and Terry exchanged uncertain glances as yet another round of cheering rose from the people.

  "He asked that I give you his love." Jessica continued, pausing briefly when the crowd would show appreciation for her dialogue. "And that I reaffirm the promise that he's made to us all... he has assured me that The Blood Fountain will provide for us forever! All he asks of us in return is that we continue to pay him homage through the sacrifice of unclean souls... I believe I spoke for everyone here when I thanked him for this blessing and swore him plenty of filthy blood to follow!"

  To the surprise of the newcomers, the crowd erupted once more at this suggestion. It seemed that they were looking forward to the display that was to follow... the murder of members of this very community as a sacrifice to whomever or whatever it was that Jessica was conversing with.

  "Are you ready for the offering?" She cried like Michael Buffer amping up the audience for a prize fight.

  They roared in response, even the children jumping up and down where they stood. Jonas and Sandra seemed the most excited of them all, reaching across the chair between them to squeeze each other’s hands as ear-to-ear grins overpowered their faces.

  "Claudius!" Jessica continued. "Send forth your implements of our redemption!"

  The cheering fell to excited gasps as heavily muscled shirtless men wearing crimson sacks over their faces to conceal their identities spilled out from a nearby building. One led a parade of four mighty horses through the crowd, the beasts clearly put off by the attention as they whinnied their objection.

  Another of the executioners followed behind, carrying what appeared to be chainsaw. He garnered the approval of the onlookers, holding it high above his head as he flexed his iron muscles.

  The third and fourth men out of the building each carried an end of a massive crucifix fashioned of blocks of wood that looked like railroad ties strapped roughly together. This earned the largest pop, several people pointing to it and smiling.

  The last of them carried a reel of barbed wire, seeming rather anti-climatic given the outlandish nature of the previous entrants. Terry Jackson wasn't sure how any of these tools would be used, but he imagined whatever the executioners had in mind wasn't going to be pretty at all.

  Once all of the men had cleared the audience they stood just in front of the stage. Jessica has assumed her seat between her mother and father during their entrance, sharing a blast of the atomizer among them.

  "Per the orders of The Lord." She shouted from her throne. "We will have four executions this evening! Our honored judge Claudius has heard your calls; carefully watching over those you said were the most heinous sinners among us! I believe you'll be pleased with his selections -- bring them on!"

  An unusually tall and thin man walked onto the stage, stepping to the point. He towered at least six-foot-ten inches above the ground, his pale bald head resembling The Gray Man or some other extraterrestrial being. He wore a black leather jumpsuit decorated from head to toe with bits of stainless steel and iron, an icon for S&M though he qualified himself with the design of a cross on his back.

  "Fair people of Wormwood." He groaned in a deep and raspy voice. "I give you the damned!"

&n
bsp; The man pointed to a structure opposite the one from which the devices had been carried. Another set of guards emerged, pulling tightly on a pair of chains as though they were dragging down a heavy statue. The two halves came together, routed around a heavy wooden stock worn by a very familiar man.

  "Terry!" Michelle exclaimed. "I think that's one of the men that tried to take my earrings!"

  "I know it is." Her husband replied, recognizing the heavy stains around his face from his use of Crimson Ash.

  The man struggled against the guards who led him like a dog upon a leash, writhing about and dragging his feet into the ground as they yanked him along. The lengths of chain continued out the back end of his stock and into the front of another, this one around the neck of a middle-aged female. Behind her were two more men, each of them looking terrified as the mob begged for their deaths in a bloodthirsty pandemonium.

  "First," Claudius proclaimed, introducing the victims in the order of their entrance. A spirited boo came from the audience as he described each of them and the sin that put them on the executioner's block. "Tommy Windhorst! A thief, drug addict and rapist! He even dared to attack our honored guest, the Jacksons, when they arrived at our community. Second to die, Jane Hogan! The well-trained eyes of our community discovered her true identity; her birth name, in fact Jane Horrowitz -- a Jew! Third and fourth on the card are Matthew Reeve and Jacob Christian -- observed last week engaged in an egregious carnal act; sodomy between the two of them, ladies and gentlemen, they are confessed homosexuals!"

  The chain-gang was pulled before the stage where they were forced to look upon The Alexanders, Terry and Michelle feeling nauseous at the judgment they passed upon them.

  "Sinners!" Sandra proclaimed as she leapt from her seat, shaking her fist wildly at the damned in a show rivaling the theatrics of a circus. "How dare you defy the teachings of the Lord in this, his holy backyard! I curse you! The almighty Lord curses you! Now you shall pay for your wicked ways! Prepare to meet your maker, foul spirits! His day of judgment is come!"

  A chorus of Amen showed she had the support of the masses. The woman reached under her throne and produced a large chunk of rock, holding it up for all to see as she continued.

  "The Lord said -- let he who is without sin cast the first stone. I stand before you now, free of the mark of Cain that afflicts you -- and say DIE!"

  The people went mad as the woman chucked the stone, striking the man that had mugged the Jacksons squarely in the face. She was smug and poignant as she planted herself back upon her throne, turning the spotlight over to her husband.

  "It's time!" He cried, running to the edge of the stage and grabbing hold of the chainsaw from the arms of the executioner.

  Guards wearing thick gloves used wire clippers to cut two lengths of barbed wire from the reel, wrapping them around the wrists of the thief as another freed him from his stock. They pulled tightly in opposite directions, stretching the man's arms out to his sides as the barbs ripped into the flesh of his arms. The criminal cried out in agony as they marched him out to the ledge of the geyser, turning him to face the thousands as they shunned him with their shouting.

  "Please!" He bellowed as blood ran down his beard where the rock had struck. "Please, don't! Forgive me!"

  "Silence, sinner!" Jonas ordered as he yanked the cord of the saw he held.

  It fired up with a throaty grumble, spewing exhaust back in his face. He worked the choke, making the machine roar in fury and inspiring the audience to do the same. He paraded around the stage with it for a moment, taking in the revelry of his subjects.

  "As is our custom," He shouted over the motor. "We will grant one of you the opportunity to carry out the work of Christ! For this soul there is one man in particular who deserves the honor more than any!"

  Jonas walked to Terry, a fire burning in his eyes, and offered him the handle of the rumbling tool turned weapon.

  "Go on!" He said just loudly enough for the Jacksons to hear him over the high-decibel cheering. "Take it!"

  They replied with looks of horror, Terry shaking his head adamantly in refusal.

  "Come on!" Jonas encouraged. "Avenge the crime committed against your wife!"

  "Not a chance!" Terry barked in return.

  Jonas seemed disappointed, but moved on quickly to maintain the flow of the ceremony. He left the stage, approaching the crowd with his deadly saw sputtering away. People started leaning over the rope that segregated them from the show, each begging to be given the chance to do the deed.

  Jonas chose a teenage boy, probably no more than sixteen years of age from among the front row. The young-man's face lit up as he took hold of the chainsaw, an older man next to him patting him on the back as he stepped over the barrier.

  The condemned thief stood over the breach in the stone, shaking his head and begging for clemency though his cries were lost in the sea of adulation for what was about to happen. The guards holding the barbed-wire tethers leaned back with all their might, supporting most of the man's weight as his legs turned to jelly in his terror.

  The boy played into the show well, looking to the onlookers for encouragement as he revved the deadly engine to a savage whine. He held the spinning blade close at the prisoner's side, its razor sharp teeth taking small bites out of the flesh over his hip as the crowd ached for bloodshed.

  Michelle melted into her husband's chest, burying her face into him as the teenager set to work. Terry felt weak as he watched it happen, the saw cutting through the thief's midsection like a hot knife through butter as a shower of red spilled into the cavernous depths below and spattered the teenage boy.

  After just a few brutal seconds the kid had cut his target in two at the waist. The disembodied legs and pelvis fell into the fountain, intestines spilling from the bottom of his torso as the guards held it up with the aid of the barbed wire lines.

  The youngster raised his bloodied arms in victory, howling at the passing clouds as he celebrated his symbolic ascension to manhood. The guards lowered the trembling remains of the thief onto the mouth of the geyser, letting every drop of blood from his body rain down into its bowels. It reacted immediately with a small puff of red smoke, the stones seeming to rejoice in the nourishment they received.

  "God is pleased!" Jessica shouted in praise. She smiled as she squeezed the bulb of her favorite little toy and enjoyed another fragrant dose of whatever was within her atomizer.

  Terry's world was rocked by what he'd seen. Had he consumed the food the Alexanders had offered he would surely have tasted it again, on the way up at this very moment.

  "And now," Jonas spoke up, quieting the crowd slightly as he turned towards the woman in chains. "We move on to the heretic! One that denies Christ, yet does not have the courage to reveal herself before us! How shall we dispatch her, my friends? I think it's time for a CAT FIGHT!"

  The people cheered again as the guards lashed the Jewish woman's hands behind her back. They set her free of the chains and shoved her towards the fountain.

  A shapely woman wearing nothing more than a red hood over her head danced into the clearing in what any upright person would consider a very exotic manner. She bounced over to Jonas who produced a set of macabre black boxing gloves outfitted with eight-inch spikes in the guise of claws.

  She taunted the woman set to die, prancing around her like a vixen spawned of Hell. With a flick of her wrist she cut open the sack that adorned the woman, exposing her flabby body for all who watched to see. The crowd laughed and mocked her nakedness, many snorting like pigs at the sight.

  Michelle dared to take a look, examining the woman from top to bottom. She noticed something about the victim that Terry had failed to see. It was entirely shocking to her, making her question her vision.

  "T.J.!" She exclaimed. "Look at her body!"

  "I see it, Michelle." He lamented. "She's just as God made her!"

  Misses Jackson continued to
look her over as the cat woman slashed and stabbed at her flesh, the poor thing shrieking with each cut of the razor-sharp spikes.

  "No!" Michelle snapped at him. "I mean LOOK at her body!"

  The prodding made him examine her closer than he had intended, his face dropping further than it already had when he realized what he saw.

  "Jesus!" He whimpered. "She doesn't have any lesions!"

  "I don't understand..." Michelle observed as the torture continued.

  "I do..." Terry returned. "These people aren't sinners... this is a witch burning, Michelle!"

  "Oh God... we must stop them!"

  "Hey!" Terry barked as loud as his body would allow. "Stop this!"

  No one heard his call amidst the frantic cheering of the crowd, the executioner finally delivering a jab directly into the woman's face. The tips of the sharpened spikes emerged through the back of her head as her body went limp. The frisky kitten slammed the corpse to the ground, placing her bare foot over the forehead for leverage to retrieve her claws. She spread some of the blood provocatively over her flesh, squatting atop the carcass in a lewd fashion that disgusted the Jacksons further.

  Another wisp of fog blasted from the fountain, this one as tall as the woman who stood beside it.

  Terry ran in front of the thrones and confronted the smiling Alexanders, getting right up in Jessica's face as he shouted his objection.

  "What are you doing?" He hollered at her. "That woman had done nothing wrong!"

  Jessica looked put out; angry at the obstruction of her vision.

  "Shut up, old man!" She snarled. "Unless you wish to be next!"

  "For our grand finale -" Jonas shouted out as he approached the two remaining men, the guards undoing their shackles. "A double header for the ages! We condemn both men at once! They shall die as they have lived; together! As the faggots that they are!"

  "Enough!" Terry's soul-stirring cry silenced the masses as he lowered himself from the stage and pushed Jonas away from the prisoners. "You cannot harm these men!" He ordered. "They've done nothing wrong!"

  Jonas looked to the audience, a massive boo showing their feelings. He let them carry on for a moment before taking back the reigns.

  "It would seem that they have, Mister Jackson!" He argued. "These men were caught performing unspeakable acts with each another! They lay with one another - a sin directly condemned in the Scripture! Tell me -- do either of you deny this charge?" He asked them.

  The men looked at Jackson with fear in their eyes. They seemed hesitant to consider responding, but his warm hand on their shoulders gave them confidence.

  "Go ahead." He advised. "Remember -- The truth shall set you free! What's your name, sir?" He asked the one on his left.

  "Jacob." He explained taking a deep breath. "I'm Jacob Christian."

  "And who is this that's with you?" He continued.

  Jacob looked at the other man who was staring back at him. The second nodded firmly to him, trying to fake a smile to comfort him in the moment.

  "This is Matthew." He replied. "My husband."

  Jonas nodded now too, more curses coming from the gathered.

  "You see?" He asked Terry. "They confess to their crime!"

  "How long as you been together?" Terry questioned Jacob.

  "Seven years." He explained. "Since we were twenty-years old."

  "Tell me about your marriage... are you faithful to each other?"

  "Of course!"

  "And you love one another?"

  "More than anything... Matthew is my soul mate."

  The other man smiled for real this time, clearly longing to kiss his partner though he didn't dare, given the predicament they were in.

  "If this is a sin so terrible," Terry started in. "Then why are they free of this disease you say attacks the unrighteous? This Mar of Cain. If God has deemed them abominations, why hasn't he afflicted them with this curse?"

  For once, Jonas seemed speechless. He opened his mouth as though to retort, but no sounds came through his lips. He tried again, still having no luck.

  "What's wrong, Jonas?" Terry questioned. "Surely you have an answer?"

  "It must be hidden under their clothes!" He called desperately. "We see only a limited bit of their cursed bodies!"

  Terry looked between the two of them, not needing to say what he was suggesting. Facing ungodly deaths they didn't hesitate to strip, spreading their arms and legs wide and spinning around to show the entirety of their bodies to their peers. There wasn't the slightest imperfection of their skin; no sign of the plague upon them.

  "This doesn't matter!" Jonas insisted. "They have admitted their sins! Now they must die!"

  The community showed their support in applause, oblivious to what Jackson was trying to show them. He didn't bother trying to convince them further, it clearly wouldn't help.

  The emcee snapped his fingers, leading the guards to move in on the lovers. Jackson boldly shoved them away, fearing nothing in this moment. A third guard approached, knocking the aged man to the mud.

  Michelle was enraged. She jumped to her husband's defense, throwing herself at the guard in a vain attempt to distract him. The man tossed her down as well, drawing his mighty sword from its sheath and standing over her preparing to strike.

  Matthew threw his naked body over top of her, forming a living shield to protect the woman he barely knew. The sentry didn't hesitate to impale him, driving his blade through the man's back. Blood rained down on Michelle as the man gasped his final breaths in her face. He turned to Terry on the ground next to him and squeezed out his last words with appreciation in his clouded stare.

  "Thank you." He grimaced, succumbing to death.

  The guard withdrew his sword, Matthew collapsing onto Michelle.

  "Wait!" Jonas ordered as the man prepared to cut her down as well. "We do not kill old women, regardless of their crimes. She will be punished, but not at the tip of your blade. Subdue her - but let her watch what happens next!"

  Several men approached, tossing Matthew's corpse aside. They lifted her from the ground and quickly bound her arms with the wire, cutting into her soft flesh. They carried her back to the stage and laid her on the cloth, pulling the hair of her head and forcing her to look upon her husband on the ground.

  "The fountain still requires two more!" Jonas said to the joy of the onlookers. "This man who questions us shall die in the other's place! Prepare the cleansing!"

  Guards set to work, tying heavy ropes to each of the horses they had stationed there before. Another set laid down the cross near where Terry fell and lifted him onto it, spreading him into the death pose of the Christ.

  An executioner clubbed Jacob, knocking him to the ground as well. He was held there, face down and naked in the mud as they bound each of his arms and legs to the ropes hanging loosely between the horses. They turned him over to face the sky before trotting the beasts forward, stretching at his limbs as he was hoisted from the ground.

  Terry endured incredible pain as he was nailed upon the cross with heavy spikes through his wrists and feet, barbed wire being wrapped around his shoulders and knees to lash him in place as well for good measure. Michelle cried out at his suffering, the thousands reveling in the scene.

  Another rope was tied to the top of the crucifix, then tied to the horse facing away from where it lie.

  "In a moment, ladies and gentlemen," Jonas explained like a color commentator at a ballgame. "The executioners will lead the horses, with the faggot strung between them, in a manner that will cause the sinner upon the cross to rise and stand erect. Then, on our count of five they will command the beasts to pull in the opposite directions that they face, tugging at the body of queer until it's torn in quarters! When his joints give out the steeds will continue charging, pulling the cross forward and dropping the man face-first onto -- this incredible bed of nails!"

  It was difficult to see from his vant
age on the ground, but Terry could clearly discern a rectangular bed of spikes which the guards laid upon the ground. It was at least ten feet long and six feet wide, plenty big enough to ensure every inch of him would be impaled on the steel in his prone position. He tried not to imagine how painful it would be as his skull was driven down on them, but the thought was difficult to avoid.

  "You'll notice the two men are positioned so that they can see each other for the duration of this torment, no doubt heightening their suffering as they are delivered unto the Lord! When they have died, the fountain shall erupt in all its glory! Showering us in the love of Jesus Christ, The Lord!"

  The slowly beating hooves and cheering of the thousands marked the beginning, the wooden atrocity lifting from the ground under the guidance of the guards, Terry being pulled up until he hung vertical from the cross. The pain was excruciating as his bodyweight became fully supported by the nails and sharpened wire straps.

  The view was amazing, if horrifying in its nature. He could see the whole of the community from his perch above the ground, but he found himself focused on the tear-lined face of his wife as she screamed in utter agony.

  "It's okay, Mocha!" He called to her, resurrecting a nickname from the days in which he was T.J. "Trust in the Lord, baby! That's what you've always told me! Now I'm telling you -- have faith in his name!"

  Terry looked down at Jacob, his face racked with suffering as the horses tugged gently at his limbs. The guards urged them on slightly, letting the man feel each square inch of pressure they placed upon his joints.

  "Sir." Jacob called to Terry through the pain. "Please -- remember me when you stand in God's kingdom!"

  Inspired by a force not native to him, Terry replied with sincerity.

  "Jacob -- I've never been sure of anything in my life; but --" He started. "I am confident in swearing to you that today you shall be with me in paradise!"

  The man seemed relieved, a life-long burden lifted from him at the words clearly not of this world. His expression changed quickly, however, as the countdown began.

  "In FIVE!" Jonas and the crowd shouted, the executioners taunting the steeds to pull harder.

  "Four!"

  The cross leaned forward a bit further as the horses inched ahead.

  "Three!"

  Jacob screamed in pain as the sound of bones breaking and dislocating echoed through the air.

  "Two!"

  Terry looked back at Michelle, her tears so thick it would've seemed she was on the cross herself.

  "One!"

  The horses grew restless, tugging so hard against the man that it seemed he would be torn asunder prematurely.

  "GO!" The fiends shouted, a great energy boiling out of them.

  With a sudden burst of fury from the beasts, Jacob was torn to pieces; his torso being drug off dangling from his right leg as the remainder of his limbs went off in different directions.

  The celebration of the people was truncated by a gasp of anticipation as the cross tilted forward at the continuing race of the horse to which it was attached.

  Time seemed to move in slow motion as gravity did its part, pulling that which was up back down. Terry's life flashed before his eyes; his first date with Michelle, the joy on their wedding day. Meeting Judy Garland on their honeymoon. The most fantastic lovemaking culminating in the birth of their first child, then the equally sweet moments each time another was born. He saw the faces of two small children; they were unfamiliar to him, but he knew they must be those of his grandbabies... faces he'd never seen in the flesh. All his days seemed wasted at the realization that he'd missed out on their smiles for his fear of flying... denied himself the pride he would've felt in holding them in his arms. His accident had changed him; ruined him... but only because he had let it happen. He had been a fool... just as his wife had tried to tell him. Of all the things he'd wanted to do and be in his days, the title fool was not among them. He was ashamed of what he'd become... what he'd allowed misery to make him.

  He felt no sense of closure as he was driven into the bed of nails, the heavy cross acting as a hammer on his back.

  "T.J!" Michelle wailed in grief as a river of blood developed under his heavily pierced body.

  The people rejoiced as a tower of deep red fog erupted from the fountain with incredible force, the cloud rising high into the sky and raining the energy back down upon them. Jessica and Sandra leapt to their feet with glee.

  The would-be-bride sprayed yet another blast from her atomizer as she looked upon the scene; many scrambling to collect the prized ash that had dropped to the ground, eager to snort it into their detoxing brains. Guards tried to ward off the addicts in their harvest, but it was to no avail; the junkies were determined.

  "Incredible!" Sandra exclaimed, stepping over next to where Michelle was mourning on the stage. "Now you see!" She continued. "The wondrous works of God!"

  The woman couldn't stand to look at the fallen body of her husband, grief driving her to beat her head against the wooden surface with tenacity. She pummeled herself over and over and over, breaking the skin of her forehead and producing a flow of her own blood onto the stage. She could've died in that moment; wished that she would die there. Her husband was gone; stolen from her by demons.

  Where was The Christ? Why did he allow this to befall his faithful followers? All the prayers she'd spoken; all the communions she'd taken in her covenant with the Lord... all seemed for naught at this moment when her life was flushed away.

  Suddenly there was a piercing scream, silencing the frenzied crowd. It had come from Sandra, frozen in her spot with a hand over her mouth while she clenched her atomizer in the other.

  The masses turned their eyes to what had alarmed her; watching in confusion as Terry Jackson lifted himself off the bed of spikes slowly, the cross still strapped upon his back. His body was covered with hundreds of wide and deep holes, viscous streams of red flowing heavily from each of them as he stood.

  His face looked demonic as he turned to the women on the stage, a vengeful anger showing through the wounds. The crucifix he bore exploded into a storm of splinters, the wooden projectiles tearing through the guards around him and striking them dead where they stood. Jonas fell as well, his body mangled by the shrapnel that assaulted it at an incredible velocity.

  Michelle smiled as her husband, free of his burden, walked with a cold diligence towards where Jessica stood on the platform. He grabbed hold of her cherished atomizer, smashing it on the stage before her. It was filled with a powdery red substance; it was Crimson Ash. The very drug the family had condemned so many for abusing. Jennings had told them it was an evil hallucinogenic... no doubt the source of her visions of becoming engaged to the Lord.

  Jackson spoke words that boomed in thunder as streaks of lightning tore the sky.

  "You are not courted by The Christ - but called by Satan himself in your gall!"

  The land shook violently as bolts of electricity struck the soil, the Blood Fountain spewing out a thick black soot that dwarfed the blast of red they had seen before in its scale.

  The people of the community fell and writhed in anguish, the boils on their flesh bursting in geysers of puss that spewed out as dark as this new ash that rained down upon them.

  When it seemed that they all had died, the surviving Alexanders watched in awe as the citizens stood again, a pure flesh revealed under the sores that had adorned them. Terry's body was restored as well before their eyes, his wounds covering over with flesh looking young and tight.

  "He's here!" Michelle announced to them all. "The Lord has come to liberate!"

  The thousands watched now as their former leaders were overtaken by suffering; their own pampered flesh boiling on their bones and melting away amidst their tortured screams. The both of them fell dead, dethroned by the power of God.

  All the citizens of Wormwood looked upon the Jacksons now as Terry freed his wife, hugging her tightly as
an aura of gold surrounded them. Their attention was torn away by a rushing air from the west; a wind generated by a sudden change of temperature as a mammoth curtain of fire closed in.

  "Follow us!" Terry directed. "You are free now of the spell they held you under!"

  The anointed couple turned away, marching briskly off and leaving the Blood Fountain behind. The thousands followed suit, a new objective set before them.

  "To Jerusalem!" Michelle declared, moving the hearts of the masses.

  Chapter 28