by Ryan King
He wasn't afraid to die, he was afraid of what came after. Brazen had never stopped believing in God, just that he was not worthy of divine love and forgiveness.
You are not worthy, said Lancourt's voice in his head.None of us are. That is the meaning of grace. We accept the free gift of redemption that we can never earn.
Brazen could remember telling Lancourt that it sounded like a free lunch and in his experience, nothing in life is free.
You are right about that, Lancourt had answered.The cost is trust. You have to be willing to trust God and submit to him fully to receive his blessings.
The cold wind buffeted Brazen as he came out near the water. He saw a wooden platform erected and several beams of wood lying nearby.
I haven't trusted anyone in a long time, Brazen thought.Not since my sister was killed.Trust always seemed like a fool's game.
You're grandmother was no fool, said Pastor Lancourt's voice,and neither was I.
Brazen couldn't argue with that. He realized that the tall thin man with the cruel blue eyes that they called General Vincent Lacert was speaking to the people through a bullhorn. He thought he should pay attention but realized it wasn't worth the effort. They were certainly saying villainous lies about him to justify whatever it was they were about to do to him. Some of those things might even be true. It didn't matter.
The two guards unbound his hands and took off his shirt. Brazen realized he could probably grab the one on the right's pistol, but what would be the point. There were too many around and they would only take it out on the civilians watching. Brazen closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tilted his head back to the sky.
I want to believe, Brazen thought.Oh, how I do want that.
Then you are closer to salvation than you realize, said Lancourt's voice.
The two guards each took an arm and led him over to make him lay down on the ground. They slipped a thick beam of wood under his shoulders.
Horror filled Brazen as he realized what they planned for him and he thrashed wildly, but more guards came and lay on him. One struck him in the face, stunning him.
While holding one arm they pulled the other out as far as possible and held the wrist. Another soldier placed a long thick nail on his forearm just beneath the wrist. He looked up at another nearby who held a sledgehammer.
Excrutianati, thought Brazen. The Romans had to invent a word for this because the other words for this sort of pain were not sufficient. Excruciating agony. That was what was coming.
The soldier lifted the hammer and slammed it down almost in slow motion onto the top of the nail. It punched all the way through Brazen's flesh and into the wood on the first blow.
White hot fire shot up his arm and into his heart. The bundle of nerves in his forearm fired with every synapses to his brain to tell something was wrong. Brazen tried to draw in more breath to scream again, but it was if he couldn't breathe.
The hammer came down again, and again, and again, until the head of the nail was only an inch above the flesh of his forearm. Then everyone let go of his right arm. Instinctively Brazen tried to pull it free, but it was as if the arm was no longer part of his body. The pain existed in his brain and throughout his being. It was too much agony simply to be from a nail in his forearm.
They did the same to the other side. Brazen screamed and struggled and willed himself to pass out, but he remained completely conscious. When the second arm was done the soldiers stood up and looked down at Brazen as if admiring their work. They nodded and then carefully lifted the heavy beam with his upper body attached into a longer crossbeam perpendicular to the first. It slide into a precut notch with a thud.
Two soldiers pushed his upper body off the wood as far as his impaled arms would allow so they could ensure the two pieces of wood were connected properly. Brazen could feel the tendons, flesh, and muscle in his arms ripping and tearing. He tried to pull his arms off the spikes, but it was no use. The heads of the nails were too large.
Someone was stripping off his pants and undergarments. He lay their naked and had a nearly overwhelming desire to cover himself. He was totally exposed to God and the world.
The soldiers straightened out his legs despite his struggles. Two men held his feet together while another held and long nail over his interlocking feet.
It took the soldier with the hammer many more blows to drive the nail through Brazen's feet. He could feet his bones breaking as the nail pushed through into the wood. By the time he was done hammering, the soldier was breathing heavily.
"Well, at least the hard part's done," he told the others and they laughed.
Let me die, Brazen prayed.Let me die Lord. Take me away.
Not yet, Lancourt's voice said.You still have unfinished business here. You're not ready.
"Yes I am," Brazen wailed out, tears running down his face.
"Oh, you think this hurts," a soldier leered into his face. "You ain't seen nothing yet. Let's raise him up."
The soldiers manhandled the interlocking wooden beams until the base was sitting over a hole in the concrete that appeared to have been dug just for this occasion. Brazen screamed with every agonizing movement, but the men ignored him. They tied ropes to the ends of the crossbeam and stretched them away to the right and left while the end of a winch was attached to the top of the beam over Brazen's head. He saw the cable of the winch led to a work truck parked in front of him by the water's edge.
A face swam into view. Ethan looked down on his sadly. He reached out and tenderly caressed Brazen's tearstained face. "This will be the most important thing you will ever do in your life. You will serve as an example to others. This will deter them from doing evil and wrong. This will make them good citizens. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for this."
Brazen wanted to screamed at him, to taunt him or curse him, yet words would not come out of his mouth.
Ethan leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Goodbye perhaps I will remember you on occasion." Then he was gone and there was nothing but grey sky.
A pneumatic whine filled the air and Brazen felt the beams jerk and then settle. Slowly he was lifted upward. Brazen could see two men at the base of the beam trying to hold it from slipping so it would drop into the prepared hole. The ropes out to the left and right were taunt to keep the beam from falling over. A man worked the winch expertly and carefully, allowing only an inch at a time to be pulled in before checking the alignment.
As he was pulled upward and the beam became more perpendicular, Brazen began to sag, the full weight of his body on his pierced forearms. Higher and higher he rose and he screamed into sky. The nails dug deeper into his flesh until they were finally caught in the junction of his two forearm bones at the wrist and would slide no more.
Instinctively he tried to take some of the pressure off of his arms by pushing up on his legs. The pain from his feet rivaled that of his forearms. His body now hung out away from the beam and Brazen realized he was nearly upright. He looked down as the beam finally settled into the hole. He felt a blessed sense of weightlessness followed by searing fire as the post landed on the base of the hole and jerked his body downward.
There was stillness and silence then. Brazen looked out over the Ohio River and he thought he could see throngs of people on the opposite shore. His people, the ones he had saved.
Doesn't that count for anything? Brazen asked.
It's not enough, said the voice.You will never be able to do enough to earn your salvation. The good news is you don't have to.
Brazen realized he needed to breath. He pulled in a deep breath of cold air and tried to blow it out but couldn't. He could continue to inhale, but not exhale. Brazen felt a wave of panic sweep over him and he pushed himself up on his feet, feeling the nail slide further up into his flesh. With the pressure momentarily off his arms he was able to exhale. Then he dropped back down again.
I never wanted any of this, Brazen thought.You know that. I had no choice.
You always had
choices, said the voice.Even now you have choices.
I have no choice except to die, Brazen countered.I am alone and lost.
You are not lost yet, said the voice.And I will not leave you, but I will not force myself on you either.
Brazen needed to exhale again and pushed himself up and then sagged back down. His vision was starting to narrow into a dark tunnel. He was growing cold and started to shiver. Brazen realized that piss and shit were running down his leg and long streams of snot and saliva hung from his face.
I'm afraid, Brazen thought.
What are you afraid of? the voice asked.
I don't know.
Yes you do, insisted the voice.Tell me.
Brazen didn't want to go to that place. Where he had locked away all his pain and loss. Finally he felt something break inside of him.
That you will not accept me, Brazen thought.That you will reject me.
My son, said the voice lovingly.I have never rejected you. It is you that has rejected me. If you will let me, I will be your father and you will be my son. Forever.
It can't be that easy, thought Brazen.
You've fought me your whole life, said the voice.It's taken you to the point of death to even hear my voice. I wouldn't say any of this is easy, but it is the truth.
Brazen needed to exhale, but he found he no longer had the strength to push himself up. He felt panic and darkness closing in over him.
Time is short my son, said the voice.You must decide. Will you accept me and my love?
Images flashed into Brazen's head. He saw the mother who had left him. He saw his sister and grandmother. He saw all his friends and enemies and those he had let down. He saw Pastor Lancourt and realized the voice he heard hadn't been the pastor's in quite some time.
Yes, cried out Brazen with all the will he had left.I accept you and your love.
And then to the masses of onlookers, he was no more.
The people stood around and gazed at the corpse on the cross. Many wept and more murmured. A wave of cries could be heard from the opposite shore.
Even Ethan admitted he was more than a little disconcerted by the peaceful smile on Brazen's dead face.
Part II
The Starving Time
Chapter 1 - Little Mouse
Jasper Timmons kept a careful watch of the thick wooded tree line as he rode his horse slowly forward in the dense snow. The dogs guarded the herds of sheep and goats well, but it wasn't the livestock he was worried about. The Creek insisted, despite the danger, on their youngsters watching the flocks. They seemed to believe it was some sort of critical rite of passage and were obstinate about their position. It was almost as if they believed a child who grew up without tending animals was bound to end up with baggy pants and neck tattoos.
It had been three weeks since they crossed into Illinois. They had discovered a barren land inhabited by starving humans and desperate animals. Fields and houses were burned and partially eaten human remains were a common sight. The few people they did encounter who were managing to grow food were so fiercely protective as to seem psychotic. Any garden plot that was capable of growing a potato was protected by deadly mantraps or concertina wire. Any barns, sheds, or cellars where food was stored was worth dying to protect.
Providing fodder for the herds was difficult. Few locals were willing to talk to them, much less sell them hay. Mostly they had to slow their advance to allow the animals to nose through the snow to the grass underneath. Fortunately the Creek breeds of cattle, sheep, and goats were hardy and tough, if a little on the small side.
Jasper did admit that their large armed party was probably an intimidating image, although this hadn't stopped a mob of pitiful, thin skeletons from attacking them a week ago. Reason had not worked, and the Creek were forced to gun them down when they attacked.
Cannibalism was obviously not taboo in the area. They saw numerous signs and even one man that had killed and salted his wife and baby daughter for the winter. Billy Fox had dragged that man out into the snow and cut his throat personally before organizing a burial for the partially eaten family.
The large herds were a constant target, one reason Jasper rode along the edges augmenting the Indian youths. They looked at him in a way that made it plain they didn't need nor want his help or protection.They're probably right, thought Jasper.But I'm not really out here for them anyway.
He saw the little girl they had picked up outside of Burlington. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Susan didn't like her out here with the others but hadn't discovered a way to prevent it without restraining her.
Since they'd found the child, she hadn't spoken. They didn't even know her name. The Creek took to calling her Little Mouse and everyone picked it up and soon just called her Mouse. She didn't seem to mind, would answer to it readily enough.
She likes being around the animals, Jasper realized, watching her. She moved among the goats, sheep, and dogs her hands always outstretched to touch their fur. Her deep green eyes seemed to light up even more around them. She especially liked the horses.
"Hey there, Mouse," yelled out Jasper at the sound of the blowing horn. That was the signal to bring the herds in close to camp where they could be fenced and protected for the night. Once Mouse hadn't come in and had wondered off with one of the dogs. Since then either Jasper or Susan went out to ensure she came back each evening.
She looked up at the sound of his voice, her head tilted slightly like an animal smelling the air.
"It's time to come in, girl," he said shifting his rifle to the other hand. "You got to be frozen solid by now."
She rubbed up against a sheep and looked at him as if to say the animals kept her warm.Maybe they do at that, thought Jasper.
"You want to ride with me?" he asked.
The edges of her lips curled up in the faintest beginnings of a smile.
"Well, come on then," he said. "We'll drive the herds in and then get us some dinner."
She nodded and walked forward while shooing the animals gently in front of her. Jasper noticed that they seemed to mind her without all the hitting and yelling the other shepherds and shepherdesses seemed so fond of. They moved before her, guided by her desire that they do so. The two dogs helped influence any of the more wayward animals. Soon the animals raced ahead of them to join the larger flocks headed back to camp.
Jasper noticed that the girl had stopped and was looking at the wood line. "Mouse, come on," he said.
She ignored him. The two dogs were now also starring in that direction. Their shoulders were hunched forward and a low growl emanated from each. Jasper's horse snorted and tried to move away.
"Easy, there," said Jasper pulling on the reins. He checked his rifle. They had been having problems with coyotes taking lambs and baby goats. There could be one nearby.
The dogs were barking and whining now and it was all Jasper could do to control his horse. "Maybe we should head back," he said just as Little Mouse turned and raced past him in the other direction.
"What the hell is –" Jasper was cut off by the rearing of his horse. He dropped the rifle in order to hang onto the saddle. The horse settled down on four feet and immediately started kicking frantically with its hind legs in a wide circle.
Jasper wasn't much of horseman, but Susan had taught him if he was going to get thrown or fall with a horse to get as far away as he could so as not to get crushed or kicked. As he felt himself sliding off the side, he pushed away and jumped. Even so, he was nearly kicked in the head as his horse spun. He hit the ground hard and looked up to see his horse galloping frantically away toward camp.
Rolling over, Jasper couldn't at first credit what he was seeing. A large, gaunt female African lion stared at him from about ten feet away, one of the dogs clamped in her mouth by the throat. Another female swatted at the remaining dog that refused to run. He saw two adolescent males trot cheerfully out of the trees, their ears and tails up high.
It's like Wild freaking Kingdom, Jasper t
hought. He had loved watching nature shows and knew that there was no way African lions should be hunting in Illinois.Must have gotten lose from a zoo or something, he realized.
His musings were cut short by the emergence of a giant male. His ribs showed, but even thin he was majestic as he shook the snow out of his large mane. The lion's eyes settled in Jasper and roared. Jasper realized it was time to go. He rolled over and pushed himself onto his hands and knees, but was knocked back down to the ground by a heavy weight on him. He managed to roll over to one side.
The lion's face was inches from him. Rank cat breath nearly smothered him. The big eyes regarded him carefully and then opened its mouth and bit down on his shoulder and chest.
Jasper screamed and struggled, but that only seemed to make the lion grip him harder with its jaws and front paws that were now holding him down, sharp claws fully extended.
I'm gonna get eaten by an African lion in Illinois, Jasper thought.How many people can say that?
He heard a dullwhacksound followed by a yelp of surprise from the lion. Then anotherwhack followed by a more serious yelp. Suddenly the lion had let go of him and was moving away. Jasper looked up to see Little Mouse holding his rifle by the barrel like a club she swung it again in the lion's direction and missing. The male lion backed away slowly and roared. The other lions were preoccupied with feeding on the two dogs.
"Give it to me," Jasper rasped holding his hands out for the rifle.
Watching the big cat carefully, she slowly passed the rifle to Jasper.
Jasper pointed the rifle with shaking hands at the cat and fired. Even though the lion was only a few feet away, he missed, and then levered another round into the chamber. Nevertheless, the noise had startled the male lion and the rest of its pride. The females and adolescents dragged the remains of their kills off into the woods. The male lion gave him one last contemptuous glance and then followed out of sight.
