The God Killers

by David Simpson

  “Whoa. Wait a minute. Now I’m just...astounded,” Han said, shaking his head as if he was trying to get water out of his ears. “I cannot believe this. For all of these years we’ve trusted you and thought you understood! But you sound exactly like all of those idiot sheep out there who believe in nothing—in absolutely nothing!”

  Cipher pulled the car to a halt outside of Father Hurley’s cabin and turned off the engine. Natalie had stopped crying, and there seemed to be nothing more that could be said. Cipher began to open the door but stopped when Han suddenly spoke to him, desperation in his voice.

  “Cipher, you have to back me up on this one. You don’t believe any of this shit the father’s spouting, do you?”

  Cipher didn’t hesitate. “I know what I believe,” he said as he got out of the car, “and that’s enough for me.”

  2

  Several hours passed and night fell. They were safe in Father Hurley’s cabin, but tensions always rose at nighttime, when they knew the ghosts were at their most powerful. Father Hurley had changed into civilian clothes and was lighting candles around the inside of the wooden cabin. A wood-burning stove was lit, burning brightly, and had taken most of the damp chill out of the room.

  Han, as usual, sucked hard on a cigarette. He hated that Father Hurley had been right about him. He knew he wasn’t himself. A couple of years of drug abuse had its effect and his most recent forced sobriety wasn’t agreeing with him; he felt permanently irritated.

  Cipher was in the kitchen, glad to see that Father Hurley had kept the cabin well stocked with food, albeit canned. He distracted himself by preparing dinner for the group. He was opening cans of corn and peas and boiling water so he could add dried potato flakes and make a reasonable facsimile of mashed potatoes. He had changed his clothes, as Father Hurley had stored plenty of warm, dry clothes, and he was feeling better. Still, there was something wrong, and it wasn’t just his burnt chest that was bothering him. God had done something to him. He felt as if his soul had been violated in some way. Even there, on the mortal plane, Cipher felt as though he’d been changed forever and that he would never—no matter how long he lived—ever be the same again. It was as though he had an invisible wound that would never heal, an injury he’d never be able to share with anyone else, as no one would ever be able to understand or empathize. It made his hatred for God even deeper.

  Even that had its inevitable silver lining. As painful as the violation had been, it had also taken away Cipher’s fear. Something changed in the moment when God stuck his enormous claws into Cipher’s soul and began to tear and shred. Perhaps God had simply removed his fear—that quality that prevents people from succeeding, that makes them question themselves ad nauseam and leaves them in a constant state of misery. Cipher felt he was no longer a man of fear—or maybe it was because in that moment, Cipher had seen oblivion. He’d looked right into the abyss, saw the end of himself as an individual being, and realized that it was nothing to fear. He had glimpsed the undiscovered country, and that glimpse had changed everything.

  As he worked, he looked across the room at Father Hurley and Han. The priest was scared, yet he was also their wisest member and very much a father to all of them. His fear would have to be neutralized.

  Han was scared as well, but his fear—like most of his emotions—manifested itself as anger and belligerence. Father Hurley was right: Neither Cipher nor Han should have been self-medicating with powerful drugs. Cipher was finally clean now, but Han was a mess. Yes, the fear would have to be neutralized.

  The last part of the puzzle was Natalie. She was absolutely terrified. It was unfortunate that she hadn’t had time to absorb the horror around her—to get used to it. The others had had time to come to terms with the cruelty of existence. Her fear couldn’t be neutralized in the short time that they had, but they’d have to make do.

  Natalie entered, fresh from another shower, and stepped cautiously into the living room. She had been able to comb and even blow-dry her hair, but there was nothing in the cabin that would allow her to clip or tie back her long brown hair. She was wearing a man’s oversized wool sweater and sweat pants that were almost comically baggy, with the waist string pulled extraordinarily tight.

  “Don’t be shy, my dear.” Father Hurley greeted her warmly, gesturing for her to enter the room and to take a seat next to the fireplace.

  “Thanks,” she managed to say, just barely able to get the words out, as her mouth had gone dry.

  “You’re safe here,” the priest said. “No one can hurt you.”

  “I’m shocked as hell that you’re still here,” Han began as he stabbed the last of his latest cigarette out on the ashtray he had balanced on the arm of the old sofa on which he sat, “I had ten-to-one odds that you’d jump out the bathroom window and run like your bra was on fire.”

  “Does everything you say have to be crude?” Father Hurley responded, trying not to lose his temper so as to avoid startling Natalie.

  “I prefer to think of it as colorful,” Han replied.

  Father Hurley ignored Han and turned back to Natalie. “My dear, can we get you some tea?” He called to Cipher in the kitchen, “Cipher, there’s some tea in the second cupboard over the sink. Could you make Natalie a cup?”

  “Of course,” Cipher replied.

  Father Hurley smiled and beamed the smile at Natalie in an attempt to reassure her; his expression was supposed to say, “See? We’re not psychos.”

  Natalie didn’t seem convinced; there was too much desperation in it.

  “Please tell me what’s going on,” she asked. “Who were those people who...who murdered my aunt?”

  The room was silent for a long moment.

  Father Hurley’s face was suddenly stricken with an anguished sympathy, and he tried to think of the right words with which to respond.

  Han didn’t feel very much sympathy at all; Natalie was more of an annoyance to him than anything else—a misery rookie. Everyone in the room had suffered terribly, and as far as Han was concerned, Natalie was simply going to have to learn to deal with it just like everyone else.

  Cipher handed Natalie a hot cup of steeping tea. “It’s chamomile. Should help calm your nerves.”

  “Who were those people?” Natalie asked him directly, becoming forceful in her desperation.

  Cipher sat down on the edge of the same couch on which Han was sitting, adjacent to Natalie. He rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands patiently. “The man with the gun who jumped out of the window was a demon. We don’t know which one, but we know he was very powerful. The little boy…uh, he wasn’t a hallucination. It was a ghost, and it seems you know better than me who he was.”

  Natalie didn’t close her mouth, blink, or breathe. The tea mug began to shake in her hands, and Father Hurley alertly removed it before any damage could be done. “This can’t...it has to be impossible.”

  “Goddamn, this is boring,” Han suddenly interjected, standing up and pacing impatiently. “It’s all true, lady, and we don’t have time for you to be in shock and process the information, okay? We need to know what the fuck is going on and what to do about it, and you’re the only one who knows the answer, so I think it’s time you start answering some of our questions!”

  “Me?” Natalie responded defensively.

  “Han!” Father Hurley shouted.

  “Why do you keep attacking me? Who the hell are you, asshole?” Natalie suddenly screamed at Han.

  Cipher held his hand out, gesturing for both Han and Natalie to stop, his palms facing both of them. “You need to stay quiet for a few minutes and pour those dried potato flakes in the water before it all boils away,” Cipher directed Han in a calm tone.

  “Fuck you, Cipher. I don’t take orders from you,” Han replied angrily.

  “It wasn’t an order. Please,” Cipher said in the same calm tone.

  Han became angrier when he realized that he couldn’t goad Cipher into a confrontation. “You think you’re so fucking awe
some right now, don’t you, Cipher? You’re the man, right? You can stay cool and lead us? What you really need to do is go fuck yourself.” With that, Han exited the room, only pausing for a brief moment to gather his cigarettes.

  “What’s his problem?” Natalie asked.

  “He’s a recovering drug addict,” Father Hurley replied. “He’s had a very, uh...difficult life.”

  “So have you, Father. So have I. And now, so have you, Natalie,” Cipher said, looking Natalie intently in the eye. “I know this isn’t going to be easy for you. It wasn’t easy for any of us, but we need your help.”

  “Me? How can I possibly help? I don’t even understand what’s going on!” Natalie replied, filled with desperate agitation as she closed her hands over her head, forlornly attempting to block out what seemed like the worst nightmare imaginable.

  Cipher turned his eyes to Father Hurley. “I gotta make those potatoes. I’m starving. Father Hurley, you have a knack for explaining crazy shit to people.” Cipher stood up, patting Father Hurley on the shoulder as he headed up to the boiling pot of water. “How about you fill her in?”

  Father Hurley watched Cipher and momentarily reflected on the calmness that the younger man was exhibiting; the calm was infectious, and, as he had done too often in the past, Father Hurley found the words to explain the nightmare to one of its new inhabitants. “Natalie, this will sound very strange and may shake everything you believe in and hold dear to its very core, but you have to understand the reality of the situation.”

  Natalie looked up at the priest and listened as intently as ever a person could.

  “The God that you believe in? He’s real, Natalie…and He hates you.”

  Natalie heard the words and had to remember to blink, but no matter how hard she tried, it simply wouldn’t sink in. “What?” she finally asked.

  “She’s seen Him for herself,” Cipher informed Father Hurley before regarding Natalie and adding, “That wasn’t a hallucination, Natalie. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. What you saw was God.”

  “God?” she finally managed to mutter before beginning to subconsciously shake her head from side to side, as if to reject the reality of the notion.

  “It’s true, Natalie. It’s God—or at least what we think of as God. He’s evil. The white light you saw when you died is a trap. Souls who enter that white light are consumed by God on the other side,” the priest explained. He paused for a minute, then turned to Cipher. “Bring her a glass of water, will you, son?”

  “But I-I’m an atheist,” Natalie managed to say.

  Father Hurley smiled understandingly. “Not anymore, I imagine.”

  “Religions, all of them—Christianity, Buddhism, Islam—well, none of them make sense. How could one of them be true if the others aren’t?” Natalie asked.

  “In a way, they’re all true, and in a way, they’re all lies,” Father Hurley explained.

  Cipher handed Natalie a cold glass of water that she gulped down quickly. He took the glass from her and headed back to the kitchen to refill it as Father Hurley continued his explanation.

  “Each of those religions has an afterlife story, and those stories are like primers for God. They, for lack of a better term, treat the soul of the individual so that it will be palatable for consumption.”

  “Huh? I’m sorry, Father, but I’m lost,” Natalie replied.

  “What he’s saying is that God’s demons on Earth have manipulated people throughout history into creating religions. The stories religions tell make people believe their souls are going somewhere. In every case, the soul is supposed to go to the Creator, whether it’s in Heaven or Nirvana or whatever,” Cipher elaborated as he handed Natalie a second glass of water.

  This time she only sipped at it and clasped it between her hands between drinks.

  “The stories are like roadmaps that guide souls into the trap. Sometimes those souls get lost somehow, for whatever reason, either because of some horrific experience or simply because the person doesn’t believe, and so the souls can’t be consumed by God. Those souls get stuck between the worlds of the living and the dead,” Father Hurley continued. “They are what we think of as ghosts.”

  “But we’ve recently learned that even souls who’ve been consumed by God can end up back on Earth as ghosts,” Cipher continued. “In fact, God has been sending dead people from our personal lives back to torture both Han and me, and I’m betting He sent the little boy to mess with you.”

  Natalie nodded, finally beginning to understand the picture. “Yes. That little boy is, uh…would’ve been my son. I had an abortion a few years back.”

  “My goodness,” Father Hurley whispered in reaction. “It even consumes the souls of unborn children.”

  “But I don’t understand. Who are you people? How do you know all these things? And what do you want with me?”

  “We’re part of The Resistance. We’re a small cell, and we work independently of any other cells that exist. We believe there are hundreds of cells all over the world, but we are ignorant of each other’s names or whereabouts so that if any of us is captured we won’t hurt the rest of the network,” Cipher further explained. “Father Hurley was the founding member of this particular chapter.”

  “Just as you have had now, Natalie, each of us has had a near death experience,” said Father Hurley, taking his turn in the explanation. “All of us have died, yet all of us have come back to life. When one comes back to life, however, he or she brings back the ability to see into what we call the Third Plane. This is why we see ghosts.”

  “You’ve died as well?” Natalie replied, astounded.

  “Back when he was only twenty-nine,” Cipher chimed in. “Care to explain the details, Father?” he asked with a smile.

  Father Hurley grimaced in embarrassment before obliging. “I used to have a certain preponderance for fattening foods. I was blessed with a high metabolism and cursed with an inability to properly break down cholesterol. As a result, by the time I was twenty-nine, the arteries leading to my heart were 99 percent blocked. I had a heart attack right before I was supposed to give a homily. I was revived by a parishioner who happened to be a doctor, but not before I saw the truth—the same truth you saw earlier today.”

  “Those flaming things?” Natalie confirmed.

  “Angels,” Cipher confirmed, nodding.

  “That’s right,” the priest continued. “I knew the truth. I didn’t tell anyone, but I could see ghosts from that moment on. I learned the rules fast enough.”

  “Rules?”

  “Yes. Very important. Never acknowledge a ghost and never let on to anyone living or dead that you can see the truth. Many years later, I met Cipher. He was just a young man then, living with foster parents. He had behavioral problems, but he also seemed quite bright.

  “Father Hurley talked to me, and I eventually trusted him enough to tell him I could see the dead,” Cipher explained.

  “Natalie, I cannot tell you what a relief it was, after all those years, to find someone who could see the same things,” Father Hurley emphasized. “I took Cipher under my wing and explained to him how to survive in a world where we can see the truth but where everyone else is blind. A few years after that, something truly extraordinary happened.”

  “What?” Natalie asked, fully engaged in the story.

  “You should explain this part, my dear boy,” Father Hurley said, ceding to Cipher.

  “I started picking up this crazy feedback on my computer. It didn’t take long for me to notice a pattern. It was something we call electronic voice phenomenon. I recorded the feedback and cleaned it up. When I did, I heard...words.”

  “That’s...just terrifying,” Natalie whispered.

  “Yeah. We’re pretty used to terrifying. I kept recording. We were only getting a word or two a day, but after a couple of months, we had a full message pieced together,” Cipher said.

  “Who was it from?” Natalie asked, transfixed.

  Father Hurley and
Cipher exchanged glances as Cipher paused; there was simply no way to make the next word easier to hear.

  “Satan.”

  “What?” Natalie asked again, suddenly aware of how often that word was coming out of her mouth lately.

  “The message came from someone or something that called itself Satan,” Cipher explained. “It explained that it was a creature from the same realm as God, that it knew what was happening to us, and that it could help us. The problem was communication. Electronic voice phenomenon works, but just barely. It wasn’t practical for getting complex messages to us in a timely manner. So, it told us that it would start communicating to us through demonic possession. This is where you come into the story.”

  “As a priest, it isn’t unusual for me to receive a high volume of calls each year from parishioners or people in the community who think they know someone who’s possessed or who think they are possessed themselves,” said Father Hurley. “It’s quite extraordinary really. Most of the time, it was clear to me that the possessions were hoaxes. We say the right things, do a little ‘exorcism,’ then suggest psychological counseling. But all of the sudden, I started getting calls like the one I received from your aunt, telling me that loved ones were crawling on ceilings or levitating furniture. We began getting two or three of these types of calls each year.”

  “Father Hurley took me with him to the possessions, and I recorded the things the demons said,” continued Cipher. “It didn’t come out in English or any kind of language that would be understandable by any human ear, but I figured out that Satan was layering the messages. The demons were saying different parts of it simultaneously so it sounded almost like the voices in a crowded room, but I was able to write a program to decode it.”

  “Is that why they call you Cipher?” Natalie asked.

  “It’s part of the reason,” Cipher replied before steering the conversation back to the point of interest. “Our last message, the one we received from the demon who possessed you, was that Satan had caused your heart to fail on purpose. She needed you to die and for us to bring you back so you would be one of us and so that you’d be willing to help us.”