The Apostates

by Lars Teeney

  But, no one else really had the qualifications around him. Graham Wynham would have been an ideal candidate, albeit, he was very close to the Regime, but, he was dead. It was a priority issue the Apostates would need to discuss when they assembled. They would need to handle any negative publicity associated with the decision to detonate a nuclear device in New Megiddo City. Technically, none of the Apostates knew that Ravine was going to do, it if indeed Ravine had been the one to do it. Gale had not confirmed that detail. She had been too distraught to talk after she received the message from him. The Apostates would need to find Ravine to get his side of the story, so that they could handle the blowback, and craft an official version of what occurred.

  Hades still couldn’t wrap his head around the casualty numbers from the detonation. It was estimated that between two and three million people had lost their lives in the nuclear event. The device had been a ten-megaton, hydrogen bomb. Judging by reports of similar devices rigged up to every B.A.G. venue in the country, it had been part of a network to be triggered when the Reverend announced the Second Coming. All the faithful would have been killed in the fires of nuclear blasts. President John W. Schrubb was poised to end his Regime on his own terms in nuclear annihilation.

  In Hades’s mind, the price paid in the destruction of the Capital balanced-out with the lives saved throughout the country. But, his opinion mattered little in the court of historical opinion. What did matter was jumping on the spin right away: to try to minimize damage. As far as he was concerned the Regime had the whole country wired to blow, their system failed but the only one to detonate was New Megiddo City’s bomb. It definitely wasn’t far from the truth. Hades’s vehicle passed an old, road sign, full of bullet holes, with barely visible text that read: “Welcome to Brooklyn”. He had crossed the old Brooklyn Bridge into the the burrows of New York.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  The ships belonging to the Neo Railroad fleet steamed passed the massive sea walls, which had sheltered New York from sea level rise, and into the East River, off the Manhattan waterfront. The battered remnants of Water Street stretched out, spanning the piers. The Neo Railroad piloted re-purposed passenger liners. The helmsmen on each vessel guided their respective hulks in alongside the piers so that they could be moored. Angel-Seraphim and Pride-Swarm waited on the pier for whatever delegates the Neo Railroad would send to meet them.

  Angel wondered if Gale-Whirlwind would be okay. She had been emotionally distraught after Ravine’s message and had locked herself in an armored vehicle. Angel knew that Hades-Perdition was en route as well. She would defer to him as soon as possible because she had no interest in receiving dignitaries and pleasantries. The only thing she could think of was home. She wanted to know what was happening in Nicaragua. But, she still had matters to attend to, and farewells to give before she could travel south. She desired to resume the identity of Consuela and drop these silly aliases as soon as possible.

  Angel noticed that the flag-ship, a behemoth of a ship, had the name “The Bilsby Fairy”. The gangplank had been brought into position and individuals poured out of the hatch near pier-level. She noticed that the other ships of the fleet were painted with a similar theme and that they shared similar names. There was the “Bilsby Epic”, the “Bilsby Princess”, and the “Bilsby Magician”. She could not understand the odd names or the context. Who was this “Bilsby” individual? Maybe he was another religious figure that had some prominence in this organization known as the Neo Railroad, or possibly some great military leader? Angel estimated that the ship could carry roughly four-thousand passengers based on her time with the Apostate fleet. That estimate did not include the crew and service staff. Angel couldn’t imagine the amounts of money it took to procure these vessels. They weren’t just re-purposed vessels hastily assembled: these ships were well-stocked luxury liners.

  The Neo Railroad delegation approached from the pier. They seemed to have been led by a middle-aged woman, of high pedigree. She was tall and slender, with only tell-tail signs of aging. She had an upper-crust quality about her, and wore a collared-tunic that flared out below the waist, which overlaid a shin-length tight skirt, and matching ankle boots. Alongside her was a man, around twenty years of age. He was armed and appeared to assess threats, with his darting glances left and right. To the woman’s other side was a boy, who appeared to be disabled: he was supported by a hovering, mechanized wheelchair. Angel had never seen anything like it. These people truly had access to wealth and riches. The extravagance seemed to even surpass the Regime of New Megiddo’s own excess.

  “Greetings Apostates! My name is Elsa: I represent the Neo Railroad and our interested partners. This is my son Meriwether. My other son: Jasper, you already know. I believe you call him Pride-Swarm. Interesting moniker. This young fellow is Simon. He’s a recent addition to our host. We found him floating in the middle of the Atlantic, in a submersible, of all things. He is quite the talented, young lad,” Elsa introduced herself with refined elegance. She bowed ever-so-slightly after she finished speaking.

  “Pleased to meet you: I am Angel-Seraphim. I fear I am the odd one out as you already know one another. But, wait, Pride, you said you were Graham Wynham’s son, does that mean—” She didn’t have to finish her sentence.

  “Yes, Angel: we are Graham Wynham’s family. We were sent overseas long ago to establish ties with the other powers in the world. Speaking of Graham, have you any news of his whereabouts? We lost contact with him some time ago,” Elsa asked longingly.

  “I am sorry: I have no knowledge of where he is. My associate Hades-Perdition is on his way to join us. Maybe he would have more information for you?” Angel felt terrible that she had no news of Graham.

  “That would be most helpful if he knew anything.” Elsa shook her head as a gesture of appreciation.

  “I am most curious about your ships. How did you come upon such massive vessels, but so old and in good condition?” Angel marveled.

  “Oh, our “Bilsby” fleet? Well, it was actually Graham’s idea to rescue these vessels from the ghost fleet of Southern California. He knew they would be a great addition to the Neo Railroad’s fleet, being able to accommodate thousands of refugees at a time in relative comfort,” Elsa informed her, with a smile.

  “Yes, but certainly the Wynham family’s fortune wasn’t so large that you could squander it on such purchases without the notice of the Regime, right?” Angel was confused.

  “My dear: this whole revolution of Graham’s goes much deeper than just a squabble between the faithful and faithless. It is true that Graham has spent vast sums of his own money, but there are other interested parties, in the governments of Europe and Africa. They have channeled capital our way as well. It enabled the Neo Railroad to re-purpose the vessels,” Elsa elaborated, there were so many details; she could talk about for hours.

  “Yep: we probably owe more gratitude for financial support to a comptroller in the government of West Europa or the Union of North Africa, than my father,” Pride-Swarm added.

  “Interesting. But what is this “Bilsby” thing? Is he one of those wealthy donors?” Angel asked, still puzzled.

  “No, no. These ships were part of a private fleet, long ago. Apparently it was a commercial venture. The founder of the private firm was a man named Winfred Bilsby. He was a cartoonist, and created some sort of popular culture phenomenon, in the Twentieth Century. Back then, it had been an era of such great prosperity that this firm would serve perishable food in what they considered disposable packaging. The principle seems alien to me. Anyhow, Bilsby’s empire grew so large, that even after his death, the firm was able to purchase a fleet of passenger ships, for what was termed “pleasure cruises”. They sailed the world and ferried people of measured wealth to exotic locales. Some of the imagery in the ship is quite nightmarish, I think actually. I don’t know how people took pleasure in it. But, I suppose I would need to study the culture of that period a bit more.” Elsa turned her mind to other matters.r />
  “Perhaps, we should find a more suitable place to discuss the transport of the B.A.G. refugees? It is getting chilly out,” Else requested, miming a gesture of warming herself.

  “Of course, mom! Right this way.” Pride gestured for the group to follow him to the makeshift operating base they had fashioned from an old sky-tower.

  “Hey! Can’t...we...stop...in Annapolis, please? I...need to get...mom...and my books,” Simon Schrubb struggled to get out, while floating beside Elsa, settled in his D.A.D.

  “We shall see, Simon! I hope that we can, depending on time,” Elsa answered.

  “Okay!” The answer brought a half-smile to Simon’s face. The group continued on indoors.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Gale-Whirlwind’s grief had been debilitating for a day and night. She had very little sleep: passing out around four A.M. and waking several hours later to horrid stomach pains and nausea. It had been so great that she thrown up stomach bile. She felt terrible and pathetic. The whole affair made her feel wretched. But, there was more to it: she felt physically sick and did not know what caused it. She thought maybe she had caught a stomach bug. Gale knew that the delegate of the Neo Railroad had arrived. She had been pinged more than a dozen times by various members of the Apostates. She did not want to see anyone. She only had the urge to take a dose of ‘Database’ and forget her misery. At that moment, there was a pounding on the armored vehicle.

  “Gale! Gale!” She had recognized the voice: it was Hades-Perdition’s voice. She abandoned her fetal position and pulled herself to her feet, and willed the rear ramp to descend with her neural implant.

  “Gale! Jesus, girl!” Hades looked at her face. She had swollen, red eyes from hours of crying. She couldn’t really even speak. She just convulsed a bit, overwhelmed with emotion.

  “Hey, hey! Sit down. Just take a minute.” Hades put an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. She wiped some residual tears from her eyes.

  “T-thank you, Hades—” Gale managed to squeeze out between sobs.

  “No, no fuck that, girl. My name’s Evan. Pleased to meet you!” Evan held out a hand to shake. She smiled and laughed a bit. She then grasped his hand and shook.

  “Greta—Greta Sanchez. The pleasure is mine!” She reciprocated. The two laughed.

  “Have you heard from Ravine-Gulch at all?” Evan asked. Greta’s smile melted away. She looked off into the distance, from the back of the A.P.C.

  “You know: there was a time that I had known Ravine as “Marco Havenscent”. In some ways he was a genius, in others he was barely functional. There was something about his duel nature that enamored me from the get-go, but, other parts of his personality infuriated me. And, even though in some ways he really fucked up my life, there always seemed to be some air of greatness about him. It made me think he would make his mark on the world somehow,” Greta recounted, with some lamentation mixed in.

  “Interesting: you talk about him like he’s dea—oh. Greta, I’m sorry. Let me know if I can do anything for you.” Hades felt embarrassed for a moment. He gave her a big squeeze and she laid her head upon his shoulder.

  “You already have done plenty. Thank you for being here for me. In a way, it is a blessing that he passed on. He never had peace in life. Now, maybe he can be remembered for being the one that took a stand against the evil of the Regime. I feel like I just needed a good cry, in order for me to go on,” Greta explained, she smiled and wiped her eyes dry with the back of her hand.

  “I am glad that at the end I actually believed in the guy. It’s a shame he had to get caught in the blast, but we were all prepared for the sacrifice. Come on, girl! You’ve been in this bucket for far too long. The Neo Railroad delegates have been waiting to meet you! Get this: they are Graham Wynham’s family!” Evan exclaimed as he rushed down the A.P.C.s ramp.

  “No shit? Hey, go on ahead I’ll catch up with you right away.” Greta waved him on.

  “Okay! Don’t be long.” Evan was off. When she was sure she was alone she faced the mirror in the bathing facilities. Greta clutched her stomach in pain. She hoped the precious cargo contained within would be without complication.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  The leaves in the trees rustled when the cool breeze weaved through their midst. Pieces of a rainstorm couldn’t quite coagulate into a codified unit, so the sky was blue but speckled with aspiring storm clouds. It was a warm summer day, up on Kelly Butte. The only sounds to be heard, aside from the leaves, was the striking of a mallet on iron nails, and the shrieking of an old man. The pounding went on for several minutes, and the shrieks became guttural moans of suffering. The Old Man would beg to God for mercy from time-to-time. At long last all the Old Man’s limbs were secured to the large, roughly-cut, wooden cross. Ayane Inoguchi pushed the cross closer to the post-hole that she had dug, then she grasped the cross by the cross-beam and heaved it upward, sliding the vertical post into the hole. The cross hit the bottom of the hole with a thud, and Arch-Deacon von Manstein cried out in agony. The cross stood erect among the tall pines on Kelly Butte.

  “Shush, von Manstein. It will not last very long if you are lucky. You of all people know that this is the most glorious way to go: as our savior Jesus Christ did. I have heard rumors of a religious order down south that crucifies sinners. Perhaps when I am done here with you I’ll seek them out.” Inoguchi’s gnarled face smiled or grimaced at von Manstein, he was in too much pain to tell the difference.

  “Please! Please!” was all he could manage, repeatedly, as the former Prelate walked down the hill, to leave von Manstein to the elements.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  “I-I appreciate your candor in this matter,” Elsa Wynham said. She was visibly-shaken and nearly collapsed.

  “I want you to know that he did not suffer at the end: I made certain of it.” Hades-Perdition laid a hand upon her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

  “Somehow, I had known that he had been found out when we lost contact with him. I just did not want to believe it. It is funny: we have been apart for so long that I had become involved with others, and I’m sure he had as well. Our marriage was one of symbolic meaning, but it does not soften the blow of receiving this news. Thank you for telling me. I will need to tell my sons,” Elsa confessed to Hades.

  “It was the least I could do. Let me know if there is anything else you need, and keep in touch!” Hades clasped her hand and shook it with warmth. Then she took her leave of him.

  “Are you sure you won’t be coming along with us? It’s a chance to see more of the world,” Greta Sanchez asked Consuela Grajales. The large ships named after Mister Bilsby were warming their engines and prepared to disembark. The Apostate fleet was further out in the East River just off of, what had once been Ellis Island. They awaited the Neo Railroad’s fleet to make the journey across the Atlantic together.

  “Yes, Greta. I need to return to Nicaragua, to my home. I do not think that the Order of the Pentagram has been completely wiped out. To be honest, I have no idea what the situation is there. I must see it again,” Consuela explained.

  “Very well, sister. I love you!” Gale said, embracing her friend. Consuela’s eyes watered a little.

  “Oh, girl! You have not seen the last of Consuela Grajales and the “Spear of Destiny”!” she announced in a sarcastic voice. They both laughed. Evan approached Consuela.

  “Going my way sister?” he asked.

  “Are you heading south?” Consuela countered, confused.

  “Why yes: but only as far as the former Capital. I need to perform some reconnaissance,” Evan confessed.

  “Wait, you’re not coming with the fleet? I’m the only one?” Greta asked like she was being excluded from a party.

  “Well, not entirely. I’ll be tagging along,” Jasper Wynham answered her question. Greta would miss her old friends, but she was anxious to leave New Megiddo and see the world. The many souls who perished in the nuclear detonation still weighed heavily on her conscience. Sh
e felt that helping the refugees to a new land was something she had to do; penance. And, she wanted a new beginning somewhere besides New Megiddo. She wanted to leave the ghost of “Marco Havenscent” behind.

  “Well, everyone: It’s about time.” Elsa hoped to get the convoy going.

  “Consuela, shall we?” Evan suggested. The Apostates embraced one last time and all went their separate ways. The Bilsby passenger liners steamed out of the Manhattan port. Greta had been ferried back to the Apostate battleships. She took command of the North Carolina but lamented the loss of the capabilities of the Iowa. The two fleets converged near Ellis Island and the battleships assumed the lead, to protect the passenger liners in case of a “remnant Regime” navy attack.

  After the formations were worked out the combined fleet steamed out to the Atlantic, which carried the exhausted and bruised refugees, who anticipated their new lands, passed by the ruin of an odd-shaped island. On the island was a massive, stone “temple” pedestal, with a pair of green, bronze feet from a colossal statue that had long ago been toppled. At the base of the temple was a dusty and weathered plaque. There was an ancient poem that could still be delineated. The inscription read:

  “The New Colossus

  Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

  With conquering limbs astride from land to land;