Mer Rouge (Part 23)

The screeching cicadas pierced through the cold silence as the sweat built up on the deputy’s neck. Not a peep was uttered by the suspicious duo. Not even a slight movement. They sat there hard and still like marble statues. The deputy stepped toward the grass and spat out the last remaining hulls between his teeth. “Well boys, are you gonna show me some identification?”

Nothing changed. He looked them up and down but couldn’t make heads or tails on what they might be hiding. They didn’t seem nervous. Not even a bead of sweat was apparent under all that leather. The deputy nearly asked them to step off the bike but before he did, a rickety pickup rounded the corner and sounded the horn. “Evening deputy!” the driver shouted. It was Hopper returning to his farm. The deputy turned his back and waved before resuming his duties. And when he did, the duo was gone. Vanished. Only the bike and the puny sidecar remained.

Ricketts drew his service revolver and searched the treeline. When he came up with nothing, he charged across the road and looked there. Out of options, he returned to the squad car and radioed in. “This is Ricketts. I’m out here on Highway Three and I urgently need another deputy…”

Before he could finish the request, a gigantic fireball exploded underneath his vehicle, lifting it a foot or two in the air before crashing back down. Then, out of the shadows, the brothers reappeared and assessed the carnage. The flames flashed brilliantly through their reflective shades. Satisfied with the destruction, they boarded the bike and kickstarted the engine. But clinging on to dear life, Ricketts pushed the drivers side door off its hinges and fell face first onto the pavement with revolver still in hand. His legs were blown off below the knees, left arm mangled, and his hair and clothes were burning into black carbon. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed with his dying breath. And in his final act, he emptied the revolver in the duo’s direction. Befuddled, the brothers flattened themselves to the ground and drew their weapons. But they watched the deputy pitiably claw his way across the road before the patches of fire spread and consumed him whole in the middle of the asphalt.

The brothers stood up and straightened themselves out and they faced each other for a hot moment. One nodded and the other returned it. Then they climbed on the bike and roared on into Vicksburg.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Mer Rouge (Part 20)

The priest took out a pack of matches and struck one. He lit his cigarette and then Oren’s and flicked his wrist a few times to snuff out the flame. And like all the other crap he had owned, he tossed the discarded match onto the floor. His eyes narrowed as the smoke rose. He took a drag and then another and leaned forward as his voice lowered to a haunting gist. “Mer Rouge is a sinister place,” he spoke.

Oren, non plexed, looked the priest dead in the eye. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“I mean, the sheriff. The mayor. The judge. They ain’t what they seem.”

“Uh huh”

The priest dabbed on the cigarette and let the ash fall to the floor. “They come from a cursed past that should be buried under the sands of time. No man hailing from this age should ever utter their names. Their conquests. The things they discovered here. Humanity should have never of found.”

Oren, slightly irked, rubbed his forehead with the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “I’m not following,” he said.

“Here. Have some more shine,” the priest said. He handed him the jug and Oren took a small swig. The priest tapped on his cigarette again and continued. “No man was meant to live forever,” he warned. “I’ve been around the world and if there’s one lesson I’ve learned is that death is as vital as the air we breathe. Despite our instincts, immortality is a curse. It’s damnation. It chains us to an inescapable and abominable past that must be castigated.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

The priest slapped the cigarette out of Oren’s hands. “Listen to me goddamnit! There’s something here! In Mer Rouge! Something that needs to be destroyed and sent back to Hell!”

“Well spit it out damnit!”

“Alright alright.” The priest calmed himself and picked up the shine jug. “It’s the fountain of youth,” he said. “Judge Castor controls the fountain of youth.”

Despite his instinct to laugh, Oren entertained this story. “I thought that was in Florida.”

“No. It’s here in Louisiana.”

“That’s even worse.”

Oren reached for the priest’s smock and took out the pack of cigarettes along with the book of matches. He took one out and put it to his lips. “So uh, how did this Judge Castor come to control the fountain of youth?”

“Cuz he ain’t Judge Castor.”

“Is that right?” Oren asked with a shade of snark. Then he waved out the match.

“That’s right,” the priest nodded. “His real name is Hernando De Soto.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 25

Telas tepidly approached the Shepherd’s bedside. With glazed eyes focused muddily towards the heavens, the old man was as motionless as death. The high priest pondered. Whatever was left within this cold vessel was a perpetual hostage suspended in the spaces between the living and the dead.. then monitors and machines beeped and dinged wildly as nurses rushed to his aid. There was a faint gagging. The mush that counted as the old man’s sustenance was lodged in his throat. While alarming to witness, Telas hoped that this was the sweet relief that the comatose man was looking for. But they pried open his mouth. Suction tubes were shoved in. Bill Wilcox stood calmly, almost disinterestedly, as the calamity unfolded. The suctioning screeched a loud scraping sound and the Shepherd jostled lightly as if to cling on to the last vestiges of life. But then the machines resumed their usual sounds. The obstruction was cleared and the old man glossed up at the ceiling as he did before. Then Wilcox continued his briefing.

“If this is a bad time, we can do this another…,” Telas began to say.

“Nonsense,” Wilcox interrupted. “The Shepherd wants you to know that he admired Jonny, and he is very thankful for your support.”

“Thank you. And you can tell the Shepherd that I’m thankful for his hospitality.”

“No need to tell me,” said Wilcox. “The Shepherd is perfectly capable of hearing your gratitude.”

Telas looked awkwardly at the old man and nodded. “Thank you sir,” he greeted.

“Now onto more pressing matters,” Wilcox continued. “The temple at Nisan will need to be dismantled. Once when the city’s population has been relocated to the south, you will be permitted to reestablish it with certain caveats.”

“Such as?”

“The followers of Jonny and others within the Alcain religion must not be granted pilgrimage to the Nain. That region will be off limits.”

The high priest shook his head. “The Nain has been a part of our religion for generations. While pilgrimages can be prohibited by temple decree, it will be impossible to stop them entirely…”

“That may be true,” Wilcox warned, “but by the end of the year, any trespassers in the region will be executed.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 24

Telas gawked at the old man as mounds of apple sauce were shoved into his mouth while nurses shuffled in and out of the sterile and cold penthouse overlooking the sprawling megalopolis. It was nestled safely thousands of miles away from the war ravaged Nain. Bill Wilcox, the aide de camp, was at the Shepherd’s beside. Hundreds of tubes and wires were connected to the old man’s decrepit body and they interpreted signals from his brain. Bill was there to elucidate every word to Telas, who along with the commandant of the Nain territory, Brigadier Hilas Philemon, was there to receive the latest decree from the Shepherd. Wilcox looked up from his interface to receive them.

“The Shepherd would like to thank you for being here,” the aide de camp explained. The old man looked motionless and infirm towards the high plafond seemingly unaware of the bustle surrounding him. Wilcox continued. “The Shepherd and the Chancellor commend you both for your service. You have both performed remarkably.”

“Thank you, sir,” the stern Brigadier responded. But the High Priest said nothing.

“The good news is the lands south of the Sianna have been cleared,” Wilcox declared. “But General, have you made any progress in clearing the Yorkin Pass?”

“It’s rough terrain sir,” Hilas explained. “The group occupying the pass have been harassing the operating posts south of Nisan and then retreating back into the Urbanas. It will take some time to flush them out.”

“You need to do it quickly,” Wilcox warned. “Contractors will be in the Nain basin within a month.”

“Aye sir.”

“The political situation with the Chancellor has changed. While his constituency might find a degree of loss of life acceptable, too much may be unbearable. Please handle this situation delicately and discreetly. The people of Nain must find safe passage to the south.”

“Of course sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

The general bowed his head and departed the penthouse then Wilcox turned towards Telas. “The Shepherd would like to speak with you alone,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 19

At the citadel, the preacher was hastily questioned by police and stowed away in the stockades overlooking the marching grounds outside along with the common thieves and the revolutionaries. In the yard surrounding them rested bones and rotted flesh and the black flies and vultures of death. Stephanos prayed to the god that be for his safe passage into the next world as men were dragged out by chromed guards and were summarily beaten and bound. Some were shot and bodies left where they fell. The revolutionaries were tied up and bayoneted and their leaders stripped and humiliated and the prisoners were called to attention to witness the execution of the latest ringleader who appeared before them bound and naked to the bone. He was buggered by the barrel of a rifle and his genitalia cut off and when it was over he was whipped and clubbed and he took it all with the serene power from a god the Preacher could never fathom. But bloodied and battered, the condemned man stood almost defiantly on his feet with his ankles and wrists bound and a noose around his neck. The other end of the rope was tied to a motored vehicle and the engine roared and the dirt kicked up beneath the wheels. The driver roared off and the prisoner flew forward behind him and his body was dragged and tossed through the mud before the vehicle swiftly turned and flung the prisoner’s body away from his head.

Stephanos wept at the horror. He clung to his sacred texts and hopes in a desperate cry for a reprieve and in the dead of night, he was whisked away to the watchman. He was brought to his knees and the watchman looked him over and questioned him. “You’re not a revolutionary, are you?” he asked the preacher.

“No. I’m a messenger of Jonny.”

“There seems to be a lot of those these days,” the watchman mocked. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from the steppe.”

“Then I suggest you return to the steppe. We can’t have large gatherings on the streets. I hope you understand.”

The preacher reluctantly nodded. They unbounded him and marched him down the hill and to the city streets and the watchman warned him that if he saw him again, he will be shot.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 18

PART II

In those winter months, the streets of Nasan swelled with the peoples of Nain with all their tongues and customs and they came to hear the wise words of Stephanos, a mysterious preacher of the plains who claimed the touch of Jonny and his message of peace. He stood upon the stoas and he shouted to the hungry denizens that the reign of the nighthawks was nearing and that the Shepherd was to lend a guiding hand. “God opened his heart,” Stephanos proclaimed of the Shepherd. “He told him that the Nain would be born anew and that bellies will be fed and the kingdom declared! The Urbanas shut up its passages to keep the people from fleeing because this is their land! Their kingdom!”

But a rabble rouser from the throng, a woman, shouted out of the masses to challenge him. “But the Shepherd brought the Nighthawks!” she cried out to the evangelist. “There can be no peace as long as he lives!”

Stephanos called her out from the crowd and when she came forth, he recognized her as a woman from the northern steppe. From atop of his stoa, he looked upon her and blessed her. “Jana, why do you challenge me?” he posed.

“Did you walk with Jonny? Did you hear his words? Did you feel his divine lifeblood in his presence?” she countered.

The crowd looked to one another and Stephanos sensed the unease. He raised his arms to calm them and then he turned his loving gaze towards Jana. “Yes, I felt all of that,” he said. “After the tragedy of the Nighthawks, I saw Jonny’s divine lifeblood absent from his earthly form and from this essence, I received his wisdom. He revealed to me that friend and enemy will walk in hand and the divisions that separated us for so long will be trampled upon and that we will receive a guiding light out of the stars and that the ultimate wisdom revealed to Jonny, the Ambassadors, and finally myself will be bestowed upon all of you. But it begins with a simple message of love and forgiveness and opening our hearts to the Shepherd.”

A smattering in the crowd laughed. Jana mocked and spat. “Think what you want,” she declared. “But there will be no rest until the Shepherd dies!”

There was a murmuring in the masses and few left the throng. But Stephanos wooed the remaining with sage words until men with guns stormed the forum and apprehended him. When the crowd saw what was happening, there was an uproar. The preacher tried to calm the simmering maelstrom but the armed men fired into the masses and it quickly dispersed. But in the thundering panic, men and women were trampled underfoot or shot outright and the peace proclaimed by the preachers of Jonny for the city of Nasan was again shattered.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Wes Lexner x 3

The boss man came to me. He closed the door behind him and laid a pistol on the table then he looked me square in the eye. “I have ass cancer,” he said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him. “Is it hopefully terminal?”

“It is,” he said. “I have six months. Maybe a year. I’ve dedicated my life to this company. You know, it’s funny. As children we have larger than life dreams; that growing up means making a difference by doing the things we love. What they don’t tell you is that once when mediocrity burrows in like a festering parasite, life becomes an endless stream of meaningless toil and futility. No matter how well you think you have it, there’s a deep void within you which whispers to you each night and tells you that you have wasted the best years of your life by becoming a cog in a soulless machine. You can spend the hours burying that voice but you know it speaks the truth. And you go on ignoring it until it metastasizes into an incurable disease. The good news for me is that I don’t have long. I will soon join the legions of the dead and forgotten. But as for you, I must pass my burden onto your shoulders.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“You are being promoted from serviceable to merely competent. The Company has deemed that you take the reins of this operation once when you’ve achieved the applicable credentials, namely a college degree. I suppose a congratulations is in order but I wouldn’t wish this job on my worst enemy.”

“But I already have a degree.”

“Your diploma in Italian porno studies at Brownhole University is not, to quote my superiors, ‘worth wiping your ass with’. I’m afraid you’ll have to get a proper one at a proper school.”

The boss man then holstered the pistol and gave me one last piece of advice. “It is life that gives meaning to death,” he said. “And if you want a meaningful death then you should resign from this job and follow your passions. If not, then classes in business management begin at Western Governor’s University on August 28th. Apply today and receive a 5% discount on fall tuition.”

Then he straightened out his shirt and opened the door. But before he departed this earth, he turned around and tapped on his pistol and winked. “You know what to do,” he said.

“Yes sir, I do.”

Western Governor’s University

Changing lives for the better

kingdom of god 16

Wade feigned ignorance at the girl’s name and Josea held his hands to the prisoner’s face as word of an otherworldly realm slipped through him. “A great child will be born of this woman bearing your seed,” the prophet declared.

“Who is the woman?”

Josea’s hands fell from Wade’s face and he returned from his godly trance. From his seat on high he looked at Wade and proclaimed that he cannot be permitted to enter the Nain. Wade pleaded with him.

“And what of Sheridan?” he asked.

“A blood sacrifice is still demanded of him.”

“Let him go. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Would you permit the woman to take his place?”

“But you said a great child will be born of her.”

“And a great sacrifice it would make.”

Wade spat at him and Josea ordered him away and he was ushered back to the chamber where Sheridan direly awaited news of his fate. Back inside, Wade looked to the ground and he shuffled unable to deliver the prophet’s decree. “They’re completely mad here,” he told his comrade.

“I know that,” said Sheridan. “But will they let us go?”

“The girl and I are permitted to go. You will stay.”

“What does that mean?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Goddamnit Wade! Be straight with me for once! Are they going to kill me?!”

“Likely Sheridan. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Nothing you can do about it?! You’re sacrificing me to save a piece of poon!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t save me! I hope hell burns hot for you!”

At sunup, the warriors returned Wade’s rifle to him and he and Seia were exiled from the pass and they journeyed southwards towards Khiva. Sheridan was taken from his chamber and was quartered first by hacking off his limbs and while he still breathed his belly was split open and his blood rushed into the troths where the warriors of Josea were cleansed and the bones of the old drifter were cast off to the flames.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 15

And she kept returning. When the day’s festivities drew to a close and the crisp air bit down she came into his chamber bearing goat meat and olives and wines for Sheridan. The older man drank of the wine and when he was fast asleep the two beloveds undertook their wordless dalliance first by a caress of the hand then a stroke of the cheek. And when he kissed her, she entered behind his chamber and he took from her what could not be given back. In the nights thereafter she took him out of the chamber and away from the prying eyes of the community and in an enclave nestled high in the mountains he would lay with her and look down to the Nain below and consider his escape. He could not convey to her the need for his Remington and buck knife nor plead on behalf of Sheridan. He would return to his prison each night.

They had been in the Yorkin Pass for a fortnight when the priest came to them. The holy man blessed them and told them that the time to take the Nain was near. “You will be a blood sacrifice,” he said.

“Wait a minute,” begged Wade. “I told you before that they have guns. You will need us.”

“And you have been told before that you must be washed of the blood to enter the Nain.”

“Then wash me goddamnit!”

“Your moment has passed. You have been sanctified.”

“I want to speak with Josea!”

“Not even the great prophet can change the will of God.”

“I will speak with him anyway. Give him my last testimony.”

But the priest only blessed them then departed. The next morning Wade was taken out his chamber and escorted to the temple and placed at the feet of Josea. The prophet held open his palm as was the symbol of Jonny and ordered the prisoner to speak.

“You’re making a mistake,” Wade shouted.

“It’s a decree of God. There are no mistakes,” Josea stated without interest.

“You will be slaughtered.”

“So be it.”

“Then why speak with me?”

Josea leaned forward and placed his hand on the head of the prisoner. He closed his eyes as if to receive a message from God and then he revealed to Wade his great revelation.

“Seia,” spoke the prophet.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 14

And for the next several days at moonlight, the holy man would enter their chambers and chant hymns in the tongue of Nain and place the seal of unity in ochre paints onto their heads and bless the prisoners before departing. On these nights, the priest’s eyes would turn white as lightning and his chantings were like a demonic serenade and when the ceremony was over he would wash his bear skinned cloak in the blood of an unknown creature and drape it over his shoulders.

“Blood will cleanse our land,” the holy man said to Wade.

“Who’s blood?”

“You will see.”

“Ours?”

But the priest departed and said nothing and then the Saranian girl entered the chamber and offered the men unleavened bread and meats and wine. Wade took of the wine and drank and then thanked her and asked of the ring. She heard him but said nothing.

“Do you understand me?” he asked her but she stood bewildered. “I’m Wade,” he said and thumbed his chest.

The girl nodded. “Sela,” she spoke.

“Sela,” Wade repeated. “You are beautiful.” He gestures to her face. “Very beautiful.”

The girl again faintly smiled and bowed and then swiftly left the chamber. Sitting in the back, Sheridan chuckled to himself. “You certainly have a way with the ladies,” he jested towards Wade.

“I have a plan.”

“Oh I know you have a plan. And I can see it’s working.”

“There’s a reason why they’ve kept us alive for this long.”

“Of course. They’re gonna make us a part of their blood ceremony. See? You’re not the only smart one here.”

“Do you see any other way out?”

“I don’t. So keep working your magic.”

After finishing the bread and wine, Sheridan was fast asleep and Wade laid awake listening to the ceaseless chanting and drum beats before it all faded away into the night. And minutes after it did, Sela returned to the chambers and offered him more bread and then she took the dead hermit’s ring and placed it back into his hand.

“No no,” said Wade. He took her by the left hand and slid it onto her finger. “This is for you. Something to remember me by.”

TO BE CONTINUED…