by Lars Teeney
“Jacob!” Gertrude ran over to Ernest, who set the boy’s body on the top of a picnic table. She went to her son’s body and embraced it, weeping.
“Gertrude, I’m sorry,” Ernest said. She just wept, willing Jacob to return to life. Teri slowly approached Jacob’s body and began to shed tears as well. They remained there for some time, mourning the brother and son that was lost to them.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
The ferry, the encampment had been waiting for, finally did show. When it moored to the docks on the shore of the Great Lake, Ernest Greenbaum, and the armed townspeople commandeered the vessel. The operators were just contractors, hired by the Church, so they did not want to lose their lives over such a trivial matter. Ernest loaded up his family, his son’s body, and the many townspeople that wanted to return to their hometown. Somehow, the people had an intuition that the B.A.G. and the so-called “Second Coming” were a sham. It was a ploy for the Regime to control the people to the last moment, and then expire on the Regime’s own terms, instead of being torn down, piece-by-piece, in rebellion. There were still those among the group that would try their luck getting into the Born Again Gathering, hoping to meet their Maker. A dozen of the townspeople had followed Pride-Swarm, who had traveled further inland: to a place called Davis. It was an old, abandoned town. Pride-Swarm had told Ernest that a cargo plane, a rare thing, waited for his return. The plane, which had been financed by Wynham, had taken off to return to the east.
Ernest’s plan for the commandeered ferry was to sail it out the Golden Gate, and sticking close to the shoreline, they would sail north to get them as close to Ukiah as possible. They would then disembark and march east, inland, to return to their beloved home. They had loaded up the provisions they needed for the journey, and the townspeople were relieved to finally depart the camp that had been a living hell. They hoped that when they returned to Ukiah that their homes would still be intact and that when they finally did settle in, whatever remnants of the Regime that remained did not come to seek revenge.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
BATTLE OF LA CHORRERA
Ravine-Gulch had been in bed for over a day recovering from his last ‘Database’ trip. He had been hailed several times over the [Apostate-net], but he had slept through them all. Ravine sat upright and cursed under his breath. He still had a slight headache. He looked around and cursed himself for spending so much time out of action. As much as he knew what he was doing was part of the plan, he couldn’t help but think he was just a lowly ‘Base-head’. He felt extremely depressed. He tried to clear his head of these detrimental thoughts to formulate a plan of action. The first thing he needed to do was get out of bed and get his blood flowing. Ravine stood upright and was immediately dizzy. After a moment, he gained his bearings. He surmised that he was still on the Hermes, hospital ship.
Ravine concluded that he was still too weak to make a trip all the way to the Iowa. He would need to bathe and find something to eat. He stumbled around the empty hospital ward, looking for the bathing facilities. Finally, he came upon a mass of toilets, stalls and a row of showers. He turned the faucet knobs to bring forth warm water. Clouds of humidity were ejected from the shower stall, which fogged up the mirrors. He then stripped off his old, dirty clothes. He tested the water of the shower and found it sufficiently heated, so he hopped in. The sensation of the water trickling over him was invigorating. He began to feel alive once more.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Blaze-Scorch vigorously washed and sterilized medical instruments for surgery and treating wounds. She had a few orderlies readying I.V.s and checking on fresh supplies of plasma and the blood supply that had been donated by members of the Apostates and their crew. Blaze then checked her supply of gauze and bandages. She felt that they had a sufficient stock should La Chorrera erupt into a full-scale confrontation. As much as she enjoyed the medical profession, she did not fancy herself a war medic and detested battlefield trauma. But, she would do her duty and treat the potentially wounded. Blaze finished folding sheets and exited the storeroom to check on Ravine in the hospital ward. She peered in and saw that his bed was empty, but also heard the sounds of a shower running, so she figured he was up and okay. She turned to go back to the storeroom when she noticed Gale-Whirlwind enter, walking among the rows of beds.
“Gale! Hi, are you looking for Ravine? He’s taking a shower, currently,” Blaze informed her.
“No, actually. I was looking for you. Got some time to talk?” Gale asked; she presented a smile. Blaze dreaded this. The last thing she wanted to have was a conversation with Ravine’s ex. Blaze thought of the worst-case scenario: Gale flying into a rage and threatening her to stay away from Ravine, even though she had no interest in him. Then, she tried to push those neurotic thoughts to the back of her mind. She convinced herself to be impartial, after all, she had no idea what Gale wanted to talk about.
“Yeah, I have some time. Care to go up to the top deck for some air? I’ve been down in the bowels of this ship for some time,” Blaze suggested.
“Yeah, let’s go up top,” Gale smiled and agreed.
“Great.” Blaze led the way; they reached the weather deck. The fresh sea air filled Blaze’s lungs and she reveled in it. She stood leaning on the bulwark soaking up sun and air, smiling in the breeze.
“Blaze, how is it spending so much time on the Hermes these days?” Gale asked attempted to break the ice.
“Oh, it’s fulfilling work, albeit lonely. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else,” Blaze confided.
“That’s good to hear. Everybody appreciates having you aboard along with your medical expertise. Especially, since I am worried that you’ll be very busy soon,” Gale confessed to her, as she gazed over in the direction of La Chorrera and the fort.
“It’s scary to think about, but I’ve double-checked my stock of medical supplies and I feel I’m very well prepared,” Blaze reassured her.
“Speaking of providing medical treatment, the rest of us know that you’ve been seeing Ravine as a patient a lot lately. What is the nature of his ailment?” Gale asked her. Blaze was taken aback at the frankness of her question. She thought that the conversation she didn’t want to have had begun.
“He hasn’t really been feeling well. But, he’s also been helping with the medical supplies and other patients. That guy could have been a doctor in his own right, you know?” Blaze was trying to sound convincing, but she knew she wasn’t a great liar.
“Ah c’mon. Cut the shit. I’ve lived with the guy and dealt with his ‘Base habit. I know that he’s been using again and that he is continuing to do so. Why are you covering for him?” Gale was livid. She came right out with the accusations, which Blaze did not appreciate.
“I treat him because he is my friend, and I’m not going to let him suffer alone. He knows more than you all credit him for,” Blaze said defiantly.
“Do you even know what this is? It’s a fucking para-military organization. We’re at war, and you’re going to let Ravine just do a bunch of ‘Database’ and put us all in danger? Hades wants to execute him!” Gale raised her voice and the argument threatened to escalate out of control.
“I’m not going to abandon Ravine. He’s got no one else precisely because you all take such a hard line. Now, you can try to get rid of him, but be prepared to lose me in the process,” Blaze was serious.
“Jesus Christ! Why exactly are you so intent to defend him? I just don’t get it—help me understand?” Gale was genuinely curious.
“He says that he is getting messages from the strain of ‘Database’ he is taking. He says that it’s crucial to the success of our mission and that it’s the key to toppling the Regime. But, he doesn’t know exactly how yet. That’s why he says he needs to finish his doses. I can’t explain it, but I believe him.” Blaze struggled to explain the gravity of the situation.
“Say that he was telling the truth, and that everything he was saying was real. What good would he be to act on the informat
ion he uncovered, by being a useless ‘Base-head’?” Gale asked a hypothetical question that threw her for a loop. Blaze had to take a moment to think about it.
“To be honest, maybe that is what we are all here for: to make sure he succeeds,” Blaze suggested. Gale leaned against the bulwark and looked toward shore. She was growing impatient.
“That sounds much like superstition, you know that right?” Gale said to her.
“Look, why don’t you come down to the hospital ward and talk to him yourself? Let’s go,” Blaze suggested impatiently. Gale reluctantly agreed, and they headed below decks.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Captain Eldridge had watched Pale-Silence, Hades-Perdition, and Angel-Seraphim shove-off toward shore with great anticipation. He had his crew on high alert, waiting for any hint of trouble. He would be ready to order all the battleships to fire upon the fortress and town. The tension on the bridge was thick. Captain Eldridge called for spotters on the superstructure of the Iowa to report in on any new activity, but there was none. The Captain secretly hoped that a confrontation would occur because he had never fired the guns of the Iowa in anger during his tenure as captain of the ship.
Captain Eldridge looked down at the tactical map table. He had been plotting their course ever since the fleet had steamed out from the Golden Gate, all the way down to the Strait of Panama. Eldridge looked at how far the fleet still had to sail. Judging from his calculations, the fleet still had nearly two thousand miles to reach New Megiddo City via the Chesapeake Bay. The Captain estimated that if their ships covered one hundred and fifty-five nautical miles a day that they would reach the Chesapeake in twelve days. That did not factor in resupply, and other obstacles. He was beginning to have his doubts about whether the Apostates could stop the Regime before the Born Again Gathering took place. He figured that they would need to wrap up whatever deals they needed to make post-haste and get through the Panama Strait.
“Ensign, please check in with communications and ask them if they have picked up any traditional radio chatter from that fortress,” Captain Eldridge requested.
“Sir, I will do that right away,” the ensign responded.
“Also, please ask communications to keep an ear open for any coded messages from—aargh!” The Captain’s speech was interrupted and replaced by a gargling noise. A knife made of white, hot plasma had been drawn across his throat, opening it up in front of the bridge crew. They watched helplessly as the Captain floundered and struggled to cling to life as his blood spilled onto the floor. Prelate Inoguchi stood over the dying Captain. Her black, cross-clad armor was stained with blood.
“That is right, Apostates. I shall kill your ships captains! The Lord demands it!” the Prelate stared at the bridge crew, with blood lust in her eyes. The crew looked at each other, and nodded, agreeing on action.
“Get her!” an ensign yelled. They abandoned their stations and rushed toward Prelate Inoguchi. She assumed a ready stance and awaited her victims.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Ravine had finished his shower and was in the process of getting dressed. He was mostly decent when Blaze had knocked on the shower stall door.
“Yeah?” he yelled, wondering who it was disturbing his grooming ritual.
“Hey, it’s Blaze. Can you come out when you’re done? I have someone who wants to talk to you,” Blaze informed him, shouting with a raised voice through the door.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Ravine announced. He threw on his white “wife beater” shirt and opened the door. He was surprised to see Gale-Whirlwind standing there beside Blaze-Scorch. Gale waved to him in an awkward manner.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting you here. What can I do for you?” Ravine was expecting to be berated about his ‘Database’ use, and he was not too far off the mark.
“Ravine, we all know that you are using and that you are justifying your use by telling everyone that it is crucial to our mission and that you get secret information from your “trips”. How can you be so absurd?” Gale had pulled no punches here.
“I know there’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, but you have to trust me. These visions are important.” Ravine could not possibly tell Gale everything he had experienced in his visions.
“Yes, I mean, you did see that pentagram sign in one of you visions, right? Didn’t Hades mention something about seeing pentagram banners on that fort before they set off?” Blaze recalled in passing.
“He what?” Ravine’s interest was piqued.
“Yeah, he said there were pentagram banners flying from the fortress and that they were going to meet with the leadership of the town: La Chorrera,” Blaze informed him. Ravine looked spooked like he had seen a ghost.
“Shit, we have to warn them! They are walking into a trap!” Ravine started to rush off through the hospital ward, but then felt faint and had to catch himself, leaning against a bedpost.
“Easy there. You shouldn’t exert yourself,” Blaze instructed him.
“See, you’ve made yourself useless to—” Gale was interrupted by an emergency hail via the [Apostate-net]. It was coming from the Iowa. All the Apostates received the communiqué.
“All personnel, the Iowa has been boarded and is under attack! Please send assistance!” the message stated.
“Shit! I’m going back to the Iowa. Just look after him, see if you can get him back on his feet!” With that Gale was gone, heading back to the top deck, where she would board a motorboat and be ferried back to the Iowa.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Hades-Perdition gazed up at the featureless town hall building, constructed of cinderblock and white plaster. These people didn’t seem too bad to him. Manuela Noriega did lay it on pretty thick, but he figured that maybe she was just lonely? He noticed that there wasn’t a lack of small arms in the town and that the townspeople seemed a bit on edge. He considered the possibility that they were not used to outsiders. Maybe ships just get sent on their way through the Strait with minimal contact? The Apostates did sail into Panama Bay with an armed fleet of ships, after all. He tried to consider all possibilities, including, that they were walking into a trap.
The Pentagram banner also hung above the entrance to the town hall. Angel did not fail to notice that either.
“Hades, I beg you. Let’s reconsider.” Angel tried to pursue him once more.
“We’re already here: in the thick of it. We might as well get this over with.” Hades was intent on meeting the leaders of La Chorrera. The door guard nodded at the Apostate’s approach.
“Welcome, Evan: Manuela Noriega expects you. Please, for everyone’s safety, leave your firearms. I will watch over them for you,” the doorman asked. Hades did not like this request, but the Apostates complied. Angel removed the bayonet dagger from her rifle and tucked it into her belt. Hades laid his M82 sniper rifle down and Pale placed his assault rifle on the pile. The guard opened the front door for them, and they entered. They did not expect the opulence of the interior, judging from the exterior of the building. Hades had not seen such a collection of antiques since his days in New Megiddo City during his stint in L.O.V.E. There was a sizable collection of Spanish-Colonial furniture in the foyer. In a side room off the foyer, he even spied Twenty-first century, Swedish, self-assembly furniture. The guards opened the double-doors leading to a massive gathering hall, with ornate ceilings and stained hardwood floors. There was a long, wood-plank table in the middle of the room, loaded with a variety of buffet foods. There was a pile of pupusas on a silver platter in the middle of the table, that were stuffed with marinated pork, cheese, and beans. Also present was the staple tostones and a fruit platter with a wide variety of slices of the region’s crops. Manuela was busy grazing on the food, and she had a drink in hand. Alongside her standing silently was a cloaked and hooded man. His cloak was pure white and an encircled pentagram was displayed on it, matching the banners that they had seen. The hooded man was the first person that Angel laid eyes upon.
“This man is not a
lone. There are four other prominent members of the Order. Watch for them.” Angel sent the communiqué via neural implant to the other two Apostates.
“Noted,” Hades confirmed silently.
Manuela noticed the arrival of the Apostates. She put down her food and threw here hands in the air in a gesture of welcome.
“Friends! Guests! Please come in. Partake in food and drink. Let us get acquainted!” Manuela exclaimed.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Noriega. We hope to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement so that we can move our fleet on our way!” Hades responded.
“Why, yes. That is why we are here,” Manuela accepted his sentiment.
“I guess that bring us to—” Hades stopped mid-sentence. He was being hailed, it was an emergency broadcast that the Iowa had been boarded and was under attack. A look of concern washed over his face. The other Apostates received the message as well. Angel clutched the handle of her bayonet dagger, darting glances around the room, expecting an ambush. The change in demeanor did not escape the notice of Manuela and the Hooded Man, who had been watching intently.
“Is something a matter? Were you saying something about an arrangement? You look troubled,” Manuela inquired. She leaned in with a frown on her face. From the back entrance of the gathering hall, large hooded-manentered the room, covered completely by his cloak as to conceal his intentions. From the front entrance of the room emerged two others, also covered with their cloaks. When Hades noticed this he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“What is this? I thought we were just here to discuss business?” Hades looked around at the members of the Order lingering in the corners threateningly. Pale had drawn his tomahawks and glanced around with a smirk on his face.
“Of course, of course. Just business. These are my business associates: Societatum Pentagram, or in English: the Order of the Pentagram.” Manuela gestured to Monsignor Carafa. Friar Francis slowly walked forward to Monsignor Carafa’s side. She gazed upon Angel with a look of pure hatred.
