Mother of All the Gods

by R. P. Wolff

  They weren’t dressed like Mater guards, but they had to be. He sighed. What was he going to do? He tried to be quiet and go in the opposite direction. He tiptoed to his left. He heard something by the tree ahead of him. Then, a man emerged from the tree holding an assault rifle.

  He was ready to run but …

  “Get on your knees, you mother-fucking Mater, now!” the man demanded. “Now! Or I’ll shoot.”

  Austin fell to his knees.

  “Raise your hands.”

  Austin did as he was told, and said, “I’m not a Mater. I swear. I just escaped …”

  “Shut up.” The man put his fingers into his mouth and whistle much more loudly.

  Austin turned to look at the other men.

  “Don’t look over there,” the man barked at Austin.

  Within seconds, the men darted towards Austin, each holding an assault rifle and backpack.

  One of the men who arrived at the scene said, “Well, what do we have here, a little lost Mater. How sad.”

  Austin spoke frantically, “Look, I’m not a Mater. My name is Austin Foster. I’m only seventeen. I escaped from Harmon. The Mater guards are chasing me.”

  “Bullshit,” the man who found Austin said. “You’re a filthy Mater, and we’re going to kill you and bury you right in these woods. We own these woods.”

  “Please don’t kill me. I swear to Zelda that I’m not a Mater.”

  “Ah, ‘swear to Zelda.’ Dumbass, you are a Mater if you’re swearing to the evil Zelda.”

  Austin could kick himself for saying something so stupid, but the Maters had pounded this propaganda into his head for over a year. Austin pleaded as he took off his hat, “Look …”

  Each man moved closer to Austin pointing their rifles as if they were ready shoot.

  “Don’t move an inch,” said the first man.

  But the hat was already off, revealing the branded “C” on his forehead.

  “See, I’m a Christian. They branded me.” Austin held up his hands in front of his face.

  The guy that was inside the hole in the ground earlier said, “Look, let’s kill him before they track him with the Freedom Chip.”

  “Please,” Austin begged, “let me show you that I took out the chip. Plus, I have my prison clothes in this rifle bag.”

  “Bullshit,” the first man said. “You could be a spy sent in here to fool us. They could have branded you and made you take out your chip to infiltrate us.”

  “Yeah, you think they’re that smart. Please, listen to me. I’m one of you. I’m so glad I found you. How many of you are there?”

  The first man said, “Show me your hand, but be careful taking off that glove. Do it slowly.”

  “You’re not going to believe this bullshit, are you?” the second man said to the first man.

  “Look how skinny he is,” the first man said. “He surely doesn’t eat like a fucking Mater.”

  Austin slowly took off his glove and revealed the white bandage that was now soaked in blood. He peeled the bandage off, and the bleeding continued but not as bad as it was initially.

  “See, no Freedom Chip in here.”

  The other guy, who hadn’t said anything yet, draped his rifle over his shoulder, and cautiously inspected Austin’s hand.

  Austin and all the men turned their heads to the unmistaken sound of footsteps in the distance from where Austin entered the wood area.

  Austin said, “Shit, they’re on to me. Let’s get out of here.”

  The man from the hole pressed the rifle against Austin’s back, “See, I told you all that this was a setup. Let’s kill him right here and get out of here.”

  “Look, I’m not a Mater,” Austin said. “Please, let’s get out of here.”

  The first man said, “Look, we have no choice. We have to trust him. Let’s get down into the hole right now.”

  The man from the hole grunted. “Shit, I don’t like this, but I guess we have no choice.” He nudged the rifle against Austin’s back again. “Okay, get up and follow us to the hole. We have to hide.”

  Austin sighed with relief. He got up and scurried to the hole which had a ladder going down about ten to twelve feet. One of the men climbed down the ladder first and then indicated for Austin to follow.

  Austin could hear the footsteps getting dangerously closer about a hundred or so yards away, he estimated.

  Once all the men were in the underground box, they closed the hatch with a rope. One of the men turned on a light and two fans from vents in the corners simultaneously turned on pushing much-needed fresh air into the area. Austin was fascinated with the hiding spot. The room was about ten by twelve feet. It had a lot of firearms: rifles, handguns, hand grenades, flashlights, knives, vests, backpacks.

  “Wow, what is this place?” Austin asked.

  “Shh,” the hole man whispered and held his index finger over his mouth. He turned on a monitor, which showed the outside area. He turned a joystick, and five Mater guards were hiking through the woods with their rifles drawn.

  “Holy shit,” Austin whispered. “Where are they?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” the hole man whispered. “They’re right above us.”

  Austin held his breath.

  The hole man turned on a speaker to a low volume.

  One of the Mater guards said, “Look, I’m sure I heard a noise coming from this area.”

  Another guard said, “Yes, I heard it too. He’s probably headed towards the lake. Let’s follow that path over there. That’s the only place he could have gone.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said the first Mater.

  Austin and the men watched the Maters head towards the lake.

  The hole man said, “We have to stay down here for a while until it’s clear, probably until the evening.” He stopped and glared at Austin. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Austin sighed. “Okay, let me get out of this disgusting Mater uniform first.”

  The hole man nodded.

  Austin changed his outfit back to the prison garb. The men still seemed skeptical of him. Austin explained his situation in detail, and they seemed to warm up to him after about thirty minutes. He had convinced them.

  “What’s y’all’s situation. Where did you get all these weapons?”

  The hole man ignored Austin’s question, and said, “Tell us more about Harmon.”

  Austin described, in detail, his experience in Harmon, and he told them about his first attempted escape with the governor’s daughter. This perked their interest.

  “You know Governor Hampton’s daughter?”

  “Know her? I’m going to marry her when this is all over.”

  The men chuckled.

  The men exchanged skeptical glances and seemed hesitant to speak.

  After a long pause, the hole man said, “We’re very interested in the former Governor. We’re trying to make contact with him.” He paused.

  “What are your names?” Austin asked.

  One of the other men gestured for him to continue.

  The hole man squinted his eyes, and said cautiously, “I’m Hector. I’m an ex-con. I saw the Maters massacre hundreds of inmates in an open field. I think I was the only one to escape.” He stopped and quickly sniffled. He was clearly upset. “I stumbled along until I came across the resistance.”

  “There’s a resistance,” Austin asked excitedly.

  “Yes,” Hector said.

  “Well, why haven’t you raided the Harmon prison yet?”

  “I ought to smack you,” Hector said. “Do you know how hard it is for us to stay back and not do anything? We are waiting for the right time, and we will strike to not only free the children of Harmon … but everyone. We have assembled weapons and have assembled a network of Mater spies, who are sympathetic to our cause. They pretend to be devoted Maters, but they are loyal to us. We hide in their houses, but we also hide weapons out here in case of emergencies or if one of our safe houses gets raided.”

  �
��Has a safe house ever been raided?” Austin asked.

  “Yes and no. Maters have searched some of the houses thinking that there was some suspicious activity, but our hiding spots within these houses are too good for the stupid Maters to find them. Plus, because we haven’t struck yet, we think that they don’t really think that we have an organized network, so we have been able to get away with it. That’s why we are keeping low.”

  “So what do you want with the Governor?” Austin asked.

  “We want him to lead our new government and encourage doubtful Maters to convert back to Christianity or to whatever religion they want to worship or if they even want to be an atheist. We need someone with some credibility. Do you think he would be willing?”

  “Absolutely. They branded his daughter, the love of my life, on live television. I’m sure he wants to get revenge based on my conversations with Becca, his daughter.”

  Hector looked at the other guys and then back at Austin. “Well, there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a rumor that he has some special power.”

  “Special power? What kind of special power?”

  “He has control over bees, and the bees have actually killed one of the guards.”

  Austin couldn’t believe it. He was thrilled by his luck to run across the resistance so soon. Although he had wished there was a resistance, he was doubtful that he would run into them.

  Austin said, “I’m so glad that you guys have rescued me. I want to be a part of your resistance, and I will do anything you want as long as I can kill some Maters.”

  The men chuckled.

  Hector spoke, “You’re a pretty daring dude for escaping from Harmon. That was extremely brave of you and stupid, but we’re glad to have you.” Hector glanced at his men, grinned, turned back to face Austin, and said, “And yes … you will certainly have plenty of chances to kill some fucking Maters.”

  “Then I’m in,” Austin declared.

  Chapter 21

  Zelda sat at her Oval Office desk waiting for the Secretary of Defense, Colin Grant, to arrive and brief her on the nation’s status. A little over a year had gone by since the conversion, and her cabinet was pleased with the results.

  She was not.

  Sure, on the surface, things seemed fine. The economy was picking up steam now that the government had released most infidels into the workforce. She grinned visualizing the previously rich infidels that now had to do manual and demeaning labor. “Serves them right,” she whispered out loud.

  The foreign affairs situation couldn’t be better as well. The rest of the world was in a global depression, and no one had invaded the U.S., nor did it seem that they were planning on invading. So far, the United States was able to comfortably live on their own resources.

  What worried her, though, was the approximate thirty million infidels that were still unaccounted for. Where were they? she wondered. They had smoked out the major forests in the U.S., or at least they thought they had. They did special inspections on suspected infidel sympathizers at their homes, but her guards never found anything substantial. There were some successful escapes from both the children camps and the adult camps, which also worried Zelda. There must be some organized resistance for these individuals to remain at large, Zelda figured.

  While she waited for Colin, she reflected on the past year. She had tired of Bruce and rarely had sex with him. She regularly had sex with her new male secretary and two Secret Service agents, who were all studs. It was great, and the Secret Service agents showed no signs of remorse even though they were married. They liked their new gig of having sex with Zelda, and she loved it too. She couldn’t get enough. Of course, she had to inflict her pain on them every so often to keep them honest and to make sure they didn’t tell anyone. She told them, while they were under her spell, that if she heard any rumors about her sexual affairs, she would kill them. The threat worked because she heard no rumors.

  What especially worried her, though, was Victor Cook. Bruce had never found him despite having a special force to discreetly find Victor. Perhaps he is dead, Zelda wished, but that was highly unlikely. If he was dead, his body would have shown up somewhere. This thought made her realize that surely hidden infidels have died during the past year, but no dead bodies have shown up. They must have buried them. The missing infidels must be highly organized.

  A beep blared on her desk phone.

  “Madam President, Secretary Grant is here to see you,” said Tom Luxe, her new male secretary and the one she had been sleeping with for almost a year.

  “Thank you, send him in.”

  The tall, gray-haired Secretary of Defense walked in with perfect posture like he was marching in boot camp. These military guys always dressed impeccably and had excellent posture whether they were walking, standing, or sitting.

  He did the sign of the Z, bowed, and said, “How are you Madam President?”

  “Have a seat,” she said ignoring his question.

  He sat down and so did Zelda.

  Zelda was sick of the lack of progress and was going to let Colin know it. “Colin, what is the update on the missing infidels? It’s been over a year, now, and I don’t see any progress.”

  He gulped and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry to say that we are kind of stuck at ninety-two percent. We still have about thirty million unaccounted for.”

  “What are you doing about it?”

  “As I previously mentioned, we have cleared all the significant wooded areas. We regularly check abandoned houses, buildings, and other secluded areas. We have done random searches of homes in the cities but haven’t found anything substantial.” He paused and sighed. “Madam President, I’m starting to think that maybe they either don’t exist or are dead.”

  This infuriated her. She clinched her fists and focused.

  He shrieked and dropped to his knees. “Please, Madam President, we’re doing our best,” he grunted.

  She released her spell. “Now you listen to me. I guarantee that these infidels do exist and are not dead. They are probably planning a major uprising as we speak. You are useless. You haven’t accomplished jack shit for the past year.”

  He slowly got up and patted his hair back into place. “Yes, Madam President. What do you want me to do?”

  “Any word on Victor Cook?” Only Bruce knew of the real reason to find Victor Cook, who might have evidence of her true origin, but Colin knew that Bruce was looking for him, as Colin provided the special forces.

  “We’re pretty sure that he is in the Dallas area.” He gulped again. “Although it doesn’t appear that we have made any progress, Madam President, we have assembled a network of spies. This takes time to establish, but we think the benefits will be fruitful soon. Remember, we just recently released a lot of infidels to society, so the spies can do their work. I know you are losing your patience, but I think it will yield some particularly good results.”

  This news pleased Zelda. “You know what,” Zelda said, “I think you’re right, but I think Dallas is at the epicenter of the potential resistance. I’m going to spend some time there. Get a mansion ready for me in about a week?”

  “Okay, Madam President,” he said without hesitation.

  Chapter 22

  It was 5:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, about two weeks after he arrived at the apartment, and Lance was exhausted. He worked twelve-hour days from six in the morning until six in the evening, six days a week, driving a bus in the early morning and the DART train rail in the late morning and all afternoon. The only day off was Wednesday, in memory of the Awakening Day and to keep it holy. Of course, he didn’t believe in that crap, but he enjoyed the day off, nonetheless.

  In the morning, he picked up mostly infidels from the different apartment complexes, which were just a step up from a prison. Then, at about ten in the morning he switched and drove the green line on the DART rail line from Carrollton to Buckner station. Like all DART routes, this route
passed through downtown. There were more Maters that rode the train versus the bus. It was probably more convenient for the Maters to take the train instead of driving.

  The guards at the Summit apartment complex continued to tell him that he would soon meet up with his wife and daughter, but he didn’t believe them anymore. The complex was all men and none of them had met up with their families, and they were all promised the same.

  He had to take matters into his own hands if he ever wanted to see his wife or daughter, but he had no feasible plan to accomplish this goal. One of his morning bus routes took him past Harmon. He drove slowly and peered through the glass door and wished he would see his precious Becca, but no one was outside when he drove by, so he never saw her. He wished he could give her some kind of signal that he drove by Harmon in the mornings.

  Pete, his roommate, had some ideas of how he could reunite with his daughter, but Lance thought his ideas were wishful thinking and borderline fantasies. Pete was certain that there was an underground network that they could tap into to help them. Lance had given up hope that there was an organized underground, and even if there was, he didn’t think they could help him reunite with his family.

  Lance finally arrived at the Frankford-North Carrollton station at 6 p.m. His shift was over, but now he had to wait for a bus and wouldn’t get to the apartment until a little after seven. He would eat dinner, read a little but it was only Mater-approved books, which were generally boring. Then, he was usually so exhausted that he went to bed by nine. So much for freedom.

  When he finally made it to his apartment at the complex, he saw that it was 7:15 p.m. Damn, he was getting home later and later each evening because the busses were always running behind.

  “What’s up?” Pete greeted, laying on the couch reading a newspaper.

  “Nothing. I’m exhausted.” Lance pressed his hand against the Freedom Chip as he spoke and so did Pete. It was an instinct now to muffle their voices in case anyone was listening through the Freedom Chip.

  Lance sighed and continued. “These twelve-hour days of mundane driving are killing me. I can do it in my sleep. I’m so bored.”