by J. Thorn
“Doctor, how is John the Revelator?”
The priest stepped around and gazed at the dead soldier dressed in John’s clothes.
“He is still out. I would like to take a closer look at him in my office. Can I have this soldier escort me? He seems to be doing much better and wishes to serve the Lord again.”
The priest beamed with admiration at Alex.
“Of course, doctor. Wheel John to the back door and I will send the freight elevator down. You can load him into a JLTV and I’ll have a driver take you there.”
“No need. This soldier can drive it. We can’t spare another man in the battle with the infidels.”
“Yes, you are correct. The light of God has illuminated your soul and it warms my heart. I will let Father know of your plans.”
“I feel the love of the Lord.”
Alex felt the salty blood on his tongue as his teeth bit into his lip.
John grabbed the cot with the dead soldier dressed in black and wheeled it toward the elevator. The priest turned and climbed the steps. Alex and John stood motionless next to the elevator as the motor roared to life and descended. The soldiers tied the church’s electrical system into the generators, giving the building basic electricity. John pushed the gurney inside and Alex shut the door. As the elevator began its return trip, Alex spoke.
“When we get to the top, get into the vehicle quickly. If anyone stops us or looks at us with a second glance, open fire and run for the JLTV.”
“The last gun I fired was a cap gun,” John said. He grabbed an assault rifle from next to a cot.
“Then you’d better be ready because that machine gun has a hell of a lot more kick.”
The elevator door opened and Alex saw him. Father’s vestments flowed and billowed, flickering candles all around. Father walked toward Alex, paying little attention to the man in fatigues to his right.
“Where are you taking John the Revelator?” Father asked. He did not look closely at the man on the gurney or he would have noticed it was not the face from his vision. God showed Father John the Revelator’s face and it was the one of the warrior standing next to the gurney.
“I’m taking John into my office for closer observation. I have electronic equipment there that will allow me to monitor his heartbeat and other vitals. I can bring a portable generator.”
A single bead of sweat popped out on Alex’s forehead and ran straight down the bridge of his nose.
“We can bring it here for you, doctor.”
“Umm, yes Father, I have no doubt you could. However, I am unsure of John’s condition and would not want to lose him in that cold, damp basement.”
Father paused and glared at Alex. He turned in the direction of John and addressed him but kept his eyes on Alex the entire time.
“If this man does anything out of the ordinary, anything, send him to meet the Maker.”
“Yes Father,” John said. He kept his face turned so Father could not see it.
“I have seen the light, Father. I serve the Lord.”
“Let’s hope you are truthful as well as subservient.”
Father turned to speak to another priest. Alex looked at John and exhaled. They left the front door of the church and three other soldiers helped carry the cot down the steps, putting the dead soldier in priest’s clothing into the back of the JLTV. John jumped behind the wheel and Alex sat in the passenger’s seat. One of the men at the back slammed the tailgate with his fist twice, alerting John he should pull out. As the vehicle turned on to East Eighth Street, Alex threw his head back and rubbed his forehead.
“Take it all the way to Shaker and don’t stop for anything. The men that drive these would run down their own grandmother for a spritz of holy water.”
John chuckled and took the suggestion.
Alex motioned John to the curb on Shaker Road, a mile from Shaker Square. John saw red pentagrams everywhere. The JLTV coughed to a halt and the men got out and walked around back to enter the office through a shattered door. John followed Alex into the veterinarian’s office.
“If they haven’t already discovered us, they will soon. Grab as many of the drugs as you can from those two cabinets and throw them in this bag. Meet me back here in two minutes. I need to grab syringes and surgical tools.”
“Where are we headed next?”
“Damned if I know. Do you know a good place to ‘hail the riff’? That phrase was in the message looping on the radio.”
John grinned.
“As a matter of fact, I do. The Jigsaw Saloon on the West Side books stoner rock bands all the time. There isn’t a better place in Cleveland to ‘hail the riff.’ What does that have to do with anything?”
“Get your shit and meet me in the JLTV. Think of how we’re going to get across the Innerbelt and I’ll tell you why we’re heading that way.”
“I ain’t leaving until I find my wife.”
“If she was in the Heights area, she’s dead.”
John stepped into Alex and seized him by the collar.
“Is that going to help us?” Alex asked. “I’m not trying to be cold, just realistic. She’ll be the first we come back for, okay?”
“All right, all right. I’ll meet you in two minutes.”
The two men set about their tasks while the dead soldier waited for them in the back of the JLTV.
Chapter 13
“Sons of Liberty rise and toss the Covenant to the fire. They are not doing God’s will.”
“You heard it twice?”
“Yeah. I stood by the radio for as long as I could and that’s what he said.”
“And you say you heard something else a bit later?”
“Hail the riff. You know where, Sons of Liberty. Get there soon. Two horns up.”
John looked out the window as the dark, empty eyes of the houses stared back at him. He considered the broadcasts, turning them over in his head.
“Is there a radio in this thing?”
“No, but I grabbed one off my receptionist’s desk.”
“Turn it on and see if you can pick up anything.”
Crackling static filled the vehicle as Alex turned the knob on the old AM/FM radio. The blip of a man’s voice broke the wall of interference. Alex backed the dial until the voice popped through again.
“…nothing more than sadistic murderers in a bizarre Holy War of the twenty-first century. Rise up with the Sons of Liberty.”
The static returned.
“Wait. If it isn’t a live broadcast, it’ll probably repeat,” John said.
An angry down-tuned guitar roared to life from the puny mono speaker and then faded back into nonexistence as the voice returned.
“Citizens of Cleveland and the United States of America, lend me your ear. The situation is dire. Monsters slaughter friends and families while our way of life stands on the brink of extinction. Within the past week, a right wing Christian Fundamentalist organization took control of our national forces. Led locally by a priest known simply as ‘Father,’ they mobilized the entire U.S. military in an attempt to eradicate any who do not subscribe to their rigid beliefs. The destruction is probably happening in every major city of our great land. They call themselves the ‘Holy Covenant.’ The Holy War is designed to root out and destroy anyone who is not part of the Covenant. We believe the first phase of the takeover is coming to an end. Nobody knows for sure what will follow the ‘First Cleansing,’ but rest assured they will not stop until all of America is under their heel. The church labels us of different faiths and those of no faith as infidels. They break into our homes and murder our families in the name of God. The red pentagram signifies the residence of an infidel.
“Brothers in the cities closest to us, such as Pittsburgh and Columbus, have shared similar stories. The military has usurped communication and transportation. In addition, they have taken over the major electricity feeds with the Covenant controlling the switch. Our scouts estimate seventy percent of our citizens were killed or imprisoned by t
he First Cleansing. We gained scraps of intel from soldiers and priests captured in the fighting. Although they refuse to divulge much, even under extreme torture, we do know the Holy Covenant thinks it is fighting the Final Battle of good versus evil. In their eyes, when Jesus returns, they will go with Him and leave the infidels behind in a burning, smoking ruin of a civilization.
“However, we are not ready to lie down and die at the hands of the demented faithful. A band of resistance has formed and is organizing. We sent cryptic messages out in hopes the Covenant will not be able to identify our gathering place. We are the Sons of Liberty and we will take this country back. Please find your way to our base. Drive, walk or crawl and bring any that wish to resist the Covenant. Find the Temple of Doom where the sun sets on the Old West. This is where we gather.
“This message will repeat for as long as the Covenant does not find the tower. We are not ready to die under ‘God’s hand.’ This is our country and we will fight for it to our dying breath.”
John pulled the JLTV to the side of the road and killed the engine. They reached an onramp to Route 271.
“I know where they are.”
“The Jigsaw Saloon?”
“Has to be. ‘Temple of Doom where the sun sets on the Old West.’ The Jigsaw is on the west side and books stoner rock and doom bands all the time.”
“What were the chances that two fans of heavy music end up in this together?”
John smiled.
“How do we get there?” Alex asked.
“If we take the highway, we’re less likely to stick out, especially at seventy or eighty miles an hour. But if we are recognized, they’ll block the highway ahead and we’re toast.”
Alex looked at John.
“They were calling you ‘John the Revelator.’ Apparently they think you’re some Pope-approved leader of the new apocalypse.”
John nodded.
“I guess if I were part of the Church, I’d understand what the hell that means. I have no idea why they think I’m their man. For now, we need to keep moving.”
Alex nodded.
“You’re behind the wheel.”
John steered the JLTV away from the curb and accelerated down the ramp and onto 271. Corpses of cars were piled seven high on each shoulder, reaching the top of the sound barrier. From above, the scene looked as if a child was playing with toy cars. Black skid marks snaked across the pavement and appendages hung out of the windows of the wrecks. Alex found a rusty searchlight in the JLTV. He shined it on the highway’s sound wall and saw the painted pentagram every hundred feet.
Twice in the first ten miles on 271, military vehicles sped past them going the opposite direction but neither bothered to communicate or stop the renegade JLTV. John slalomed through the abandoned cars at seventy miles an hour until he approached the intersection of 271 and Route 480. The 480 westbound looped around and underneath 271. At the point of the bend, a massive pileup with dozens of cars stretched across all three lanes. John slowed their vehicle to a stop, killed the engine and let the headlights illuminate the grisly scene.
Both men stared into a wall of twisted, charred metal. Blistered paint bubbled on panels of steel, making the cars look like the scaly skin of a dragon. Alex got out and stood next to John. They looked to the right side of the metal mountain at an opening extending three feet in width.
“There. Can we force our way through that?”
John put his hand over his forehead and squinted.
“Maybe. Let’s see if it’s open through to the other side. If it is, we can get a running start.”
The men walked closer. They put their arms up to their face as the unmistakable scent of burnt hair forced them to pause and cough. Alex stepped down and picked up a pink teddy bear dressed as a ballerina. One eye had fallen out and the bear had dried blood on its foot. Alex straightened the tiara and wiped grease from the plush fur.
“Wait here and make sure nobody bum rushes us,” John said.
“Who are you, P. Diddy? Nobody says ‘bum rush’ anymore.”
John flipped Alex the middle finger and maneuvered through the first couple of cars.
One minivan was turned sideways at the end of the opening. John calculated that the JLTV would be able to knock it out of the way if they had enough speed. He retraced his steps to Alex, who stood in the white beams of the headlights. Night was falling and taking the temperature with it.
“I think we can get through there.”
“Let’s go, Evel Knievel.”
“You dated my ‘bum rush’ comment by another decade. Nice,” John said.
The men got back in the JLTV. John massaged the gear shifter into reverse. It scraped, screeched and sputtered. John reversed the JLTV and turned around to face the wall of twisted metal at a distance of three hundred yards.
“You may want to keep your arm inside the vehicle,” John said.
Alex ducked low and covered his face with a jacket in anticipation of flying shards of glass. The JLTV lurched forward, tons of metal fighting against gravity. As it picked up speed, John slid down in his seat and held the wheel.
An ungodly noise erupted from the sides of the JLTV as sparks shot across the hood. Alex felt like he was in the mouth of a beast, fighting to avoid being crushed by gigantic teeth. When they thought their eardrums might split, the JLTV collided with the sliding passenger door of the minivan. They lurched forward as the JLTV slammed into the van and started to spin sideways as it forced the minivan to the left. They fishtailed to the far right of the shoulder and faced back toward the pileup as the JLTV came to a rest.
“Holy shit,” John said.
“Fuck. If there were Holy Rollers in the area, that would have gotten their attention,” Alex said. “See if you can get this thing started again and let’s get out of here.”
John cranked the lever to the right, but the JLTV emitted a low chunking noise. He tried again and then a third and fourth time. He slammed his fist on the dash.
“There,” Alex said.
From the other side of the pileup and penetrating through the jagged passage, a faint light grew. They heard a thick tire tread vibrating off of the soft asphalt.
“Try it again. Hurry,” Alex said.
John turned the crank and the JLTV came alive. He threw it into gear and maneuvered behind the minivan which now rested on its roof. John eased up to the rear bumper of the minivan and gunned the accelerator. The JLTV slid the van back into the pile amidst a shower of sparks. John gave it another two bursts from the accelerator to make sure the van lodged in the opening. He turned the wheel to the left and shifted again. Alex stuck his head out the window. As the JLTV drove away, beams of light burst through the openings in the wreckage like the flickering light inside a jack-o’-lantern.
Chapter 14
“Something has happened, Father.”
“What is it?”
“Father Thomas has woken up but he seems disoriented.”
“Bring him to me.”
Father lit a cigar and tilted his chair back. Generators rumbled from the boiler room as the electricity provided light to St. Michael’s. The rickety boiler in the basement came to life. Soldiers from the 165th Infantry revived it after ten hours of triage. The old piece of hissing pipe and steam bathed the stone church in comforting warmth as the nights grew colder. Father paged through the reports, noting the pockets of resistance while coaxing the sweet tobacco from his blunt. He heard the two men coming down the hallway toward his office in the back of the church.
“May God be with you, Father,” Thomas said, walking into the office.
Father waved the third priest away. The man pulled the door as he stepped out of the room, but did not close it all the way.
“Sit, my son, and tell me what happened downstairs.”
“He reveals nothing.”
Father rubbed his chin and stared deep into the man’s vacant and bloodshot eyes.
“Who reveals nothing?” he asked.
“
John. He is gone now and so is the vet.”
“Yes, they took him to the vet’s office to conduct tests.”
“No your holiness, they are gone. Lucifer spit his fire on the road to salvation.”
Father summoned the other priest back into the room.
“Please make sure Father Thomas is cared for in the infirmary. He is still having difficulty organizing his thoughts.”
The priest bent at the waist and escorted Thomas from the office. The cigar sat in the ashtray, smoldering and sputtering. Father reached over and snuffed the lit end. He walked out of the office and into the back of the church. Priests knelt in the pews while saying their evening prayers. An armed guard stood next to the main door and did his best to stay awake.
“Soldier,” Father said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Dispatch a team to the vet’s office and bring him and John the Revelator back here.”
The young warrior spun on his heels and jumped into a JLTV. Father watched it disappear down East Eighth Street.
Chapter 15
Jana crawled out from under the sink. The wound turned her jeans a dark red. She lay her face down on the cold kitchen floor waiting for the muscle spasms in her legs to subside. She smelled fried chicken. The shattered glass from the broken beer bottle scattered across the floor and the beer dried into sticky patches.
The frigid room invited the crescent moon to light one corner with a chilled glow. Jana’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of both screen doors flapping in the night, hanging from their hinges.
She rubbed her calves and toes, working the blood back into circulation. The cramps subsided allowing her to stand. Jana walked upstairs to her bedroom, navigating through the shattered remains of a nightstand and lamp. She pulled a messenger bag from the closet and threw essentials into it, wrapping a toothbrush, Band-Aids, deodorant, soap and a hairbrush inside of a shirt. She changed into old jeans and a heavy sweatshirt, then sat on the edge of the bed and cried.
She grabbed the waterproof radio off the gooseneck of the shower and rubbed a finger over the battery compartment, hoping they still held a charge. Jana slid the dial to “on” and turned the volume down. Even though John left it tuned to his favorite FM station, the radio bleated nothing but static. She turned it off and threw that into her bag as well. If the electricity did not return, the radio might be her only connection to the rest of the world, assuming it still existed.
