by J. Thorn
“I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. It’s been a long time since I was an altar boy at St. Bernadette’s. Those people out there are grown up, moved on or dead.”
“A dream has its own reality. The feelings of safety, comfort and assurance you had as a youth can all be yours again. Serve the Lord and He will save your soul for all eternity.”
John flushed with anger. He saw through the shallow eyes of Father and the deceptive illusion of his past. John heaved the crucifix as hard as he could toward the tabernacle. The cross twirled through the air with the long handle spinning underneath it. The solid silver crucifix smashed headfirst into the tabernacle, shattering the top with a wretched crash. The golden chalice of a long-forgotten priest rolled out and fell to the marble stone beneath. John looked at the faces of the parish and yet they did not change. Mouths opened and closed in silence like hungry fish groping for food.
His robes disappeared and he grew back to his adult height, dressed in the jeans and T-shirt of reality. Father never moved and never uttered a word. Flames burst through the floor of the church and wooden pews erupted in golden and blue heat. The faces of John’s past began to melt. The apparitions continued their silent chant as skin and muscle slid from bone. The only thing John heard was his own panicked breathing.
Stained glass windows shattered, exposing the cold, black nothingness of space. Hymnals fluttered through the air like birds of fire. The roof of the church collapsed, dropping chunks of plaster upon the melting bodies. Dark figures swooped down upon the scene while carrying corpses away in talons. The demons lifted those that had not yet burned and devoured their flesh mid-flight.
The church and all of its parishioners of the past dissolved into a barren, rocky landscape. On the horizon, John saw nothing but red-tinged rock with tendrils of smoke creeping toward the black sky. He turned and saw Father standing in the same position he occupied since the dream began. Father’s appearance and halfhearted smile did not falter through the grotesque transformations.
“It is never too late to come back to Him,” Father said.
His white robe stung John’s eyes with its brightness.
“But John, do not waste precious time. You can save your family, your friends, your love and your past if you come back to us. We will accept you with open arms and shower you with the love of God. I have spoken to Him and He tells me you are our savior. You will lead us from this dark time into a new era of shining faith.”
John rubbed his face and pulled the collar of his T-shirt over his nose. The smell of rotting eggs seeping up from hell’s fury made him retch. Distant screams of agony and pain broke the silent façade of the dreamscape as lost souls departed again for eternal solitude.
“Why must you wage war? Surely God sent His son to preach the ways of peace, love for one’s brother.”
“You of all people must know the answer to that question. You are the Revelator.”
“I am not,” John said. “Quit calling me that.”
Father’s face twisted in anger and his eyes turned a shade of red.
“You are. God has written of the Final Battle. Through you, John, He has shared His vision of the last war between good and evil. The infidels must be destroyed. The Warriors of Christ will cleanse the earthly heaven in preparation for the return of the Son. All the souls of heaven must be spared and those innocent of the earth must join them in praise.”
“And God has chosen you to lead this crusade?”
“No. He has chosen you, John. You are His messenger, His right hand. He has chosen me to be your protector.”
“That is bullshit and you know it. How many times has the Church done this and then apologized for it later? How many decent, peaceful and innocent people perished at the hand of the Inquisition? How many bled out on the sword of the Crusades? That is not God’s message. That is man’s desire to force others to live as one.”
“The infidels have raised the demons of hell and set them amongst us. They have lured satan and all his minions to the table. They have feasted on the God-fearing souls of the earth for too long. Ask yourself, John. ‘What shape is the world in today?’ Can you answer that? Illicit drugs steal young people from their families. Women legally kill unwanted seeds in their womb. Nonbelievers taint all of humanity, tempting them with sex and violence. Lucifer walks with us. If we do not stand and fight in God’s name we are all doomed.”
“I will not deny we face challenges that threaten our entire existence. But killing all those who do not prescribe to your ways will not save us. You are mad with blind religious fury and I will not be part of it.”
“You may change your mind yet, young John. Your eyes have not seen the extent of the brutality of the infidels. You will come back to your faith and fight alongside us. You will trumpet the return of the Son, the banishment of satan and the beginning of the Thousand Year Peace. God’s love will bring you back.”
“We have nothing left to discuss. Wake me or cut me free from this vision and do not return.”
“Or what? Do you think you are in a position to threaten me?”
John blinked. When his eyes opened, he sat inside a three-foot by three-foot cell. The walls and ceiling of solid concrete left no room for windows. Iron bars sealed the cell from the only opening in the dungeon. A six-inch hole in the floor smelled of feces as flies circled the opening of the pipe. Beyond the bars, a dark corridor spread out as far as John could see. Meager torches on the moldy brick walls faded into the distance.
“I can put you here until the end of time.”
“This is a dream. You have no power over me.”
“Then wake up, John. Go ahead and do it.”
John stood in the cell and knew he could not.
“I will not be forced to do your will.”
“You are right. You cannot. But you will suffer the consequences. Consider our conversation. Think about Jana and the good you can do for the Holy Covenant. Take comfort in the fact that you can tip the scales and help defeat satan’s army. God will welcome you through the Gates of Heaven and Earth shall sing your praises.”
John slid down the wall of the cell and collapsed onto the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head between his legs.
“I am through with you, Father. Speak to me no more.”
When he lifted his head again, the early morning sun danced through the glass block wall of the front bar of the Jigsaw. Alex was slumped nearby underneath the cooler while snoring off the last of the alcohol from the night before.
Chapter 21
“The infidels are growing in size but they have yet to organize.”
“Are they armed?”
“As best as we can tell, no. There is a group taking refuge in the Jigsaw Saloon and Tavern in Parma. We think they are remnants of the Keepers of the Wormwood and they could have automatic weapons.”
“You mean the biker gang?”
“Yes.”
Father blew a perfect ring into the flickering, fluorescent light hanging above the table. He closed his eyes while the smoke wrapped him in its protective blanket.
The other priests sat amongst the military leaders. Men in black robes carried Bibles while those in camouflage carried machine guns.
The basement of St. Michael’s provided the group privacy and a place to debrief. The generators created enough electricity to run a laptop computer and projector. A high-ranking officer grabbed the laptop and bowed before Father. He wore medals tacked to his chest and they jangled when he walked. A plain cross held in place by a silver chain sat over his coat. Father noticed many of the troops wore a crucifix around their neck.
“Father, what my sergeant here is trying to tell you is we have most of Cleveland secure. That doesn’t mean we won’t run into roaming gangs of infidels or snipers. I guarantee you we will. However, we have enough firepower to handle whatever they throw at us.”
“When will we be ready for the Second Cleansing?”
“That depends on how
quickly we dispose of the bodies from the marked structures. If we can get this done in the next two or three weeks, you’ll be able to commence the Second Cleansing on time.”
Father looked around the table. The other men avoided his gaze by shuffling papers or fidgeting with weapons.
“Have you heard from commanders in other areas?”
“Yes, I have. Pittsburgh and Columbus are in the same situation we are. They have almost finished with the First Cleansing and appear to be poised to begin the Second. There have been problems in other cities, however. The sheer size of New York, Chicago and Los Angeles has made it difficult for us to control the situation. In those three cities an all-out war rages. Air strikes may need to be used to disarm the infidels and flush them out of their strongholds. Many of my men saw action in Afghanistan and Iraq and an overweight buck hunter isn’t going to pose the same threat as the Taliban did. I can tell you that for sure.”
“Don’t underestimate them, general. Satan’s fury should not be taken lightly.”
“We are using any and all means of accomplishing the aims of the Holy Covenant. It may take more time elsewhere but Cleveland is all but secure under my command.”
“And what of the Keepers of the Wormwood? What is your plan for dealing with this group?”
“For now, nothing. If we can secure the neighborhoods around Parma on the west side they’ll have nowhere to go. We can wait them out and avoid taking casualties. I have snipers that can pick them off from a thousand yards. But we must deal with them. The Keepers have the ability to organize a resistance and I don’t want to give them the opportunity.”
“That is fine as long as it doesn’t slow down the initiation of the Second Cleansing. Know if I call for it, I want that group burned off the face of the earth and sent to satan’s gate.”
“That should not be a problem, Father.”
“Very well. That is all we need to discuss on the matter. Does anyone have an update on the whereabouts of John the Revelator?”
The men at the table continued looking down into their hands. After an uncomfortable silence, a young priest spoke up.
“Father, we have not yet located him. He may have been with the vet and escaped through the wreckage barricade at the intersection of 271 and 480.”
Father took a final drag on his cigar and exhaled across the table. He looked up to the ceiling and then back at the priest who’d spoken. Father made the sign of the cross and wiped a lone bead of sweat from the end of his nose.
“If the Revelator is not found before we initiate the Second Cleansing, we all have to answer to Him.”
Chapter 22
Both men froze. Jana remained behind Peter and looked at Jake over Peter’s right arm. Jake’s hand held a steady bead on Peter, the gun pointed directly at his head. Jake’s eyes darted around the store. He then stole a glance back over his shoulder at the open storeroom door.
“Shut and lock that door with the chain and padlock,” Jake said to Jana.
“But I can’t—”
“Do it or you both die, bitch.”
Jana moved across the floor, navigating past the empty coffee cups and cupcake wrappers that littered the floor. Jake backed into the wall and turned his gun toward Peter, keeping the pistol aimed at Peter’s face.
“Can you put that thing down? I’m not armed and I’m sure as hell not going to rush at a loaded weapon.”
“Shut up,” Jake said.
Jana wrapped the chain around the handle of the door, making as much noise as possible before finally snapping the padlock into place.
“Now move back over behind the ugly Brit.”
“I’m Welsh.”
Jake turned the gun sideways and pulled it back, cocked and ready to kill.
“One more word from you and I’ll split your skull with a bullet.”
Peter held both hands up.
“Are you going to shoot me too?” Jana asked. “Why don’t you pump as many bullets as you can into everyone here? What is your problem?”
“My problem is you won’t shut the fuck up.”
Jake stepped toward Jana and slapped her before she could raise an arm to block it. Her hair spun around and the slap of skin echoed off the silent store walls. Peter bit his lip so hard, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Peter said.
Jake’s eyes glazed over with rage and his chest heaved. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He squeezed the trigger. Three bright flashes of light engulfed the store as three explosions punctured the night air, followed by Peter’s body crashing into a magazine rack. Three holes were in his chest. Jana’s scream reverberated in her own skull. Jake lowered the smoking barrel to his side. Sweat poured off his forehead, but his eyes never left Peter. The Welshman’s eyes fluttered for a second then remained open as he expelled a final breath. Dull thuds came from the storeroom as the others pounded on the padlocked door. Smoke filled the convenience store and the burning spice of gunpowder tinged their nostrils.
“You bastard. You fucking killed him,” Jana said.
Jake pulled plastic zip ties from his pocket and wrapped them around Jana’s wrists. He pulled them hard, drawing blood where the plastic cut into her flesh. Then he punched her in the stomach. Jana doubled over. Jake pushed her by the shoulder to the floor and looped another zip tie around her ankles.
“All he had to do was shut up. He couldn’t fucking shut up, could he?”
Jake walked to the storeroom door and called out to those now imprisoned inside.
“One person out here is dead and another is asking for it. If everyone doesn’t shut up now, I’ll open fire and send all of you to hell. Got it?”
The group fell silent, but Jana spoke.
“They must’ve heard the shots. The soldiers are coming. Why would you be so fucking stupid?”
Jake yanked her up by the hair and smacked her across the face again.
“Shut. Up,” he said.
He pushed his hands through his hair and shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans. Jake walked toward the shattered front windows and peered into the dark streets of South Euclid. He shivered and waited for the searchlights of a patrol but none appeared.
Jake’s eyes scanned the parking lot and came to rest on the car wash building. He grabbed Jana by her elbows and lifted her off the floor, flinging her over his shoulder in one motion. He pulled the gun from his waistband and slid toward the front door. Looking out, he started toward the car wash building with Jana over his shoulder. She felt his shoulder digging deep into her abdomen and grunted with each jolting step.
When they reached the office of the car wash, the locked doorknob would not turn. Jake shattered the lock with the butt end of the gun. A crooked desk sat in one corner of the building, facing a greasy front window. He dropped Jana behind the desk and crouched under a stack of cardboard boxes.
Searching beams of light came from Warrensville Road toward Mayfield, creeping along at about four miles per hour. Marksmen sat in the back of the APC swinging spotlights over the empty windows of the deserted businesses. They paused in front of the gas station and then moved on down Mayfield toward Cleveland. Jake exhaled and dropped his chin to his chest.
“They don’t know where it came from. It’s a good thing you locked them in the storeroom.” Jake’s voice reverted back to its cool delivery.
“Please let me go. Please.”
“I’ve sat tight long enough. The world’s going to hell. I’m taking whatever the fuck I want, starting with you.”
Jake took a blue bandana doused with a noxious mixture of cheap cologne and motor oil from his back pocket and used it to gag Jana. He moved his hand to her waist. Jake took a buck knife from his pocket and slid it inside her shirt. Jana’s white skin gleamed in the moonlight. She whimpered and struggled as Jake’s hands kneaded her breasts. He fondled her before his gaze trailed down toward her jeans. Jake used the knife to cut a long slice up b
oth legs of the denim to the waist leaving the soiled bandage on her thigh. He peeled back Jana’s jeans, exposing black cotton panties. Jana twisted and fought Jake with every muscle in her body. He stopped.
“Lie still or I will plunge this knife into your stomach. It will take days for you to bleed to death. It is not a pleasant way to die.”
Jana stopped fighting but her nervous twitches could not be controlled. Jake took the knife and cut the top of her panties on each hip. He pulled them away and felt a growing heat in his pants. He placed the gun and knife next to Jana’s bound feet. With his hands on the inside of Jana’s knees, he pushed her legs apart then inhaled as he licked her belly button.
“Anarchy has its privileges,” Jake said.
He stood up and unzipped his jeans before dropping them to his ankles. The ragged and torn boxer shorts landed on top of a crumpled pile of garments. Jana stared mindlessly at the drop ceiling in the office and counted the individual tiles. She heard him groan and felt his skin on hers.
Then he grunted and his contorted face crashed hard against the thin carpet, landing to Jana’s left. She could still feel the cool air against her exposed skin, but Jake wasn’t moving.
A hand reached down and used Jake’s knife to cut the zip ties from her ankles and wrists, then removed the filthy bandana from her mouth. Jana’s lungs burned with the intake of the cool November air. A blanket floated down from above, covering her up to her neck.
Jana sat and looked down at the pool of dark liquid that crept toward her from the ax blade lodged in the back of Jake’s head. A yellow handle pointed down and parallel to the rest of his body. Jana shuffled away from him on all fours toward the corner, an instinctive attempt to escape danger. She mumbled and whimpered, trying to form her thoughts into words. She glanced up and saw a figure above her.
“C’mon, honey, come with me. That’ll be the last time that man says the word nigger.”
Ruth and Sally lifted Jana by her hands and shepherded her back into the gas station. Jana kept the blanket tight around her shoulders like a superhero in a cape.
