Mer Rouge (Part 9)

The priest fired a few more rounds at the gang of bikers before looking over his shoulder. “There it is!” he shouted to Oren. Oren’s eyes squinted to see the uneven dirt road less than a hundred yards ahead. He understood immediately what the priest was getting at. While the ninety degree turn would be easy for the Honcho, the gaggle of Harley’s would have to slow down to make the sharp right. The marshy farmland on both sides also meant the bikes would have to stay on the pot marked dirt path to maintain their pursuit. This was the perfect opportunity to put some distance between them and the Mad Max mafia.

They were closing in on Kurtzy Road fast. “Hang on!” Oren shouted. He swerved right into the shallow marsh and nearly flung out the two passengers in the bed. While Hutch and the priest hung on for dear life, a wave of green and brownish water washed over them. They were covered in shit and leaches and all the muck Louisiana had to offer. When the Honcho was squared up on the dirt road, the priest raised up to look behind them. Through the clouds of dirt and dust, the pursuing lights were dimming. Relieved by this, he threw his arms around a shit covered Hutch. “By god, perhaps there’s a god afterall!” he beamed.

But a cool fog was descending upon the dirt road and visibility was quickly deteriorating. “I can’t see shit!” Oren screamed to the back.

“Don’t worry, there ain’t nuthin on this road! Just drive as fast as you can!” the priest assured him.

“That’s easy for you to say, pal!” the driver argued back. But while Oren had his eyes momentarily looking over his shoulder, road construction signs abruptly appeared. With little time to react, the Honcho crashed through a barricade and barreled toward a seemingly pointless ramp bolstered by a pile of rubble. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkk!” Oren shouted. Failing to hit the brakes, the Honcho went up the ramp at speeds reaching 90mph. Hutch and the priest were flung out from the bed while Oren had little choice but to accept his fate. The truck flew through the air for several yards before crashing face first into the newly cemented pavement. Then it hung vertically for a moment or two before landing upside down and nearly crushing its occupant.

There was silence. Even the crickets and creatures of the night ceased their chanting. But this calm after calamity was interrupted by the roars of Harley’s and hell wagons riding up to the scene. First was the sheriff. He slowed and stopped then lowered the kickstand and dismounted. He looked to the left side of the road. Hutch was laying face down in a drainage ditch. Then he looked to the right. The priest was nowhere to be found. Far ahead was the wreckage of that 81 Honcho. The sheriff presumed its driver to be dead. As the other bikers dismounted, the sheriff issued his orders. First, he pointed at Hutch’s unconscious body. “Grab him,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Mer Rouge (part 8)

A single Harley roared in front of the others and the biker slammed his chain against the Honcho taillight. Millions of pieces of red plastic bits scattered across the two lane blacktop and the priest fired the opening volley of the counter assault. Through the storm of roaring engines, the .38 barely registered a sound. But a single shot lodged itself into the chest of the marauding biker and the resulting explosion of red mist was apparent even under the piercing blackness of night. While the biker clutched his chest, the wheels beneath him bobbled before collapsing bare onto the asphalt and skidding for several seconds. While the Harleys behind him attempted a dodge, they were too close. Sparks, blood, and indiscernible body parts were left in the wake of the skidding Harley and other bikers plowed into the wreckage which left a meshed pile of broken bodies and motorbikes. Stunned by the calamity, Hutch would have vomited had the certainty of an unpleasant death wasn’t upon him.

“Goddamn! That was one hell of a shot!” he shouted to the priest.

“It ain’t over yet!”

The dozen or so remaining bikes scurried around the wreckage, and once they cleared it, the tangled mess of Harley’s inexplicably erupted into a brilliant fireball which casted a hellish orange glow over the bayou. Oren was floored while watching the spectacle in the rearview mirror. Then, like a bat out of hell, another Harley tore its way in front of the pack and emptied a barrage of bullets into the Honcho. Hutch and the priest flattened themselves in the bed as the rounds whizzed above them. From inside the cab, glass rained down on Oren as the rear window shattered. But before the priest could return fire, the speeding Harley was already running apace with the Honcho on the driver’s side. The biker emptied a clip from a semiautomatic and the bullets tattered and ricocheted inside the cab and barely missed the driver. “Jesus Christ!” Oren screamed. Then the priest leapt up from the bed and fired a shot. He missed entirely but sensing gunfire behind him, the biker sped up to outrun the truck. This was a critical miscalculation. While outgaining the Honcho, Oren thought quickly and swerved into the rear of the Harley. The bike swiftly turned right and smashed against the front of the truck. With his right leg shattered, the biker screamed in agony before the Harley fell underneath the runaway Honcho. The vehicle lifted slightly to climb the meager wreckage before the rear passenger tire landed on the biker’s head and smashed it like a bloody meat melon.

Seeing the carnage behind him illuminated by the lights of pursuing Harley’s, Hutch did manage to vomit. Then the priest poked his head in through the broken rear window glass. “Kurtzy Road is coming up!” he told Oren. “Be prepared!”

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…

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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…

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…

kingdom of god 13

Wade returned to the cage and women brought them meats and furred blankets for the nights ahead. Sheridan remained cowed under the coverings and caked in dried blood with his hands shaking at the faintest echo of chanting monks and the hollering of warriors. Not wanting to stay silent, Wade informed Sheridan of his visit to the prophet.

“Will he let us go?” asked the older man.

“I don’t know,” said Wade.

“Then what will happen to us?”

“I can’t say.”

Sheridan gnawed on charred deer meat and drank water while Wade stayed seated with back towards his fellow prisoner. “What is this place? What are they doing here?” Sheridan asked.

“I reckon they’re hiding from the nighthawks.”

“And what of Josea?”

“He’s a charlatan.”

“Of course he’s a charlatan! I mean what’s his angle?”

“What’s the angle of any charlatan? He claims he sees visions of Jonny. That’s what brought him up here.”

“But we can’t be far from the Nain.”

“We ain’t. It can be seen from Josea’s temple.”

“Is that what you’re aiming for? An escape?”

“What other option we got?”

Another young woman of browned skin and dark hair flowing over her exposed breasts brought the night’s food wrapped in hide cloth and she handed it to Wade. Wade took it and asked her her name but the girl meekly looked down and didn’t answer. Before she left, Wade called for her. The girl turned around and he reached into his pocket to pull out the ring taken from the hermit and he offered it to her. She cautiously approached the cage and reached out her hand. Wade placed it into her palm and he clasped her fingers into a fist and he held it. “Thank you for the food,” he told her. She briefly made eye contact and flashed a faint smile then departed.

“Where do you think she came from?” asked Wade.

“I can’t say for certain,” said Sheridan. “Possibly from the Sanalands to the west.”

“Think she speaks English?”

“Not a chance.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 12

Nestled in the Yorkin Pass, an ancient complex to an unknown god was carved out of tanned stone and mounted thousands of feet in the cool and thinned out air of the Urbanas Mountains. This imposing structure housed the so called Temple of Josea and it faced north to the land of Nain. The holy man and Wade ascended the crumbling and crack ridden steps towards the sanctified temple and they were greeted by a battery of naked soldiers with cocks sheathed in bronze and holding spears of chromium points. The holy man signaled to the soldiers and the men unfastened the doors and ushered Wade inside. Josea the man, flanked by his warriors, was cloaked in royal purple but appeared as no king. He stood contemplatively like a wise sage away from his visitors and the holy man instructed Wade to kneel and he complied.

Returning to his stately form, the prophet looked upon Wade. “Speak,” he ordered him.

“I’m a representative of the Milner Corporation passing through here to meet with the Shepherd,” Wade stated.

“Did you not know that this pass was occupied by the people of Jonny?”

“How was I supposed to know that? You people weren’t here a few years ago. This was a dead land used only by prospectors and foragers passing through.”

Josea nodded. “Aye. But did you not hear the Great One speak? He granted us this land by holy decree.”

“The Great One? You mean Jonny?”

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t follow your legends.”

“It’s no legend. He walked among us and blessed the poor and the righteous. He taught us that the reign of the nighthawks will end and that the Kingdom of God will be upon us.”

“Yet he was killed by the nighthawks.”

Josea closed his eyes as if to speak in a trance and he raised his hands to give Wade a mighty revelation. “Jonny revealed to me in his heavenly form that he will return to bring about his kingdom. The destructive power of the nighthawks will be used against his enemies and righteousness will be restored.”

“Yes I’ve heard that one before. So you’re a prophet?”

“So you say.”

“Are prophets always this cagey?”

“It is not upon me to declare myself a prophet. I receive visions and interpret them to the followers.”

“And that’s how you got this temple?”

“It’s for the glorification of Jonny.”

Wade laughed and got off his knees. After dusting off his dirtied trousers, he dropped the pretensions and looked Josea in the eye. “I don’t care what you’re doing here,” he told the prophet. “If you think the nighthawks can’t reach you in these mountains then you’re dead wrong. It’s only a matter of time before the corporations, probably the Shepherd, come through here and take this pass. You can release me or you can kill me. But just know that I won’t be joining this ridiculous circus.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 11

Blackness covered the Yorkin Pass and the naked foot soldiers marched single file with their two prisoners towards the sounds of a primordial dance where fire irradiated through the valley and shadows pranced like demons against the rocks while bare chested women and throngs of gyrating bodies beat their heads with stones to the vibrations of goat skinned drums. And when the festivity reached a nauseating pitch, the carcass of the warrior killed by Wade was dragged through the crowd and placed upon a gallow where Sheridan was stripped naked and placed underneath and the carcass was split open and blood showered over him like a torrential rain. They took Sheridan’s rifle. They removed the buck knife from the barrel and handed the edged weapon to Wade. A holy man decked in garish trinkets of human ears and scalps blessed the preceding and Wade awaited his fate while standing around the bonfire of corpses. The crowd quieted as a boy of no more than fifteen and armed with only a spear approached the glowing blaze and looked upon the prisoner. Wade looked back. The boy lunged towards him and he easily parried the charge. While behind his attacker, Wade waved the spear from the boy’s hands and had the knife to his throat. They tussled before he threw the boy into the fire and the boy briefly escaped the inferno with singed skin and lurched towards the spear. Wade grabbed him again and held his head into the blaze. With his hair alight, the crown sat quietly while the flames engulfed the boy. The victorious prisoner threw the knife to the ground and spoke to the masses.

“I demand to speak to Josea,” he said.

The holy man was silent as warriors took up Wade and Sheridan and put them away from the crowd. Sheridan wept and still dressed only in blood, he cowarded underneath a bear skinned cloth and away from the eyes of Wade. Wade stood stonefaced towards the entrance of the cage and the two men said nothing to each other. Then the sun dawned upon the valley and neither slept. The holy man reappeared bearing water and deer meat and Wade took the water and drank. “Are you Josea?” he asked the man.

The priest looked upon the prisoner and waved his arms. “Who are you to come into this valley and kill one of our own and then demand to be in the presence of our sanctified one?”

“Cut the bullshit,” shouted Wade. “I am a representative of the Milner Corporation and if you kill me then men will descend into this valley and put an end to this madness. So if you know what’s good for you, you will take me to Josea.”

“We don’t fear the corporations,” the priest said defiantly.

“Then you’re a fool. They have guns. You only have spears.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 10

The naked warrior was on the ground with the corner of his skull blown open then Wade and Sheridan covered their noses and dragged his body out of sight. They hastily covered him with rocks and dirt and Sheridan pulled out his canteen to wash the blood from his hands. “There was a better way to handle that,” he told Wade.

“How so? By stripping naked and getting washed in the blood?”

“That’s preferable to getting hunted down. They surely heard that rifle shot.”

“Probably so. Is there another way around the pass? Perhaps along that ridge?”

Wade pointed to the east and Sheridan looked in that direction. He shook his head and drank from the canteen. “Maybe,” said Sheridan, “but they probably have this entire valley covered.”

Wade stood up from where he knelt and dusted away the dirt from his knees. “Well, then we should move fast. They’re likely moving in the direction of the shot. We should be out of this valley before they figure out what’s going on.”

Sheridan twisted the cap back on his canteen and they grabbed their rifles and trekked up the meager paths carved into the boulders until they were on top of the ridge overlooking the crevice below. Sheridan had the buck knife ready and attached to the end of his rifle as a bayonet while Wade held the Remington to his hip. They made a quick pace along the ridge and kept a heavy eye in all directions but no naked warrior opposed them. None appeared at all.

“Maybe they didn’t hear the shot,” Wade uttered.

Miles in and a faint echo of an ancient chant was heard. “Did you hear that?” asked Sheridan.

“I ain’t worried until I see something.”

As they descended the ridge down to the flatter plain beneath, Sheridan breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re almost out of it,” he said. Then a six foot spear flew from atop and burrowed into Sheridan’s right thigh and as he went to the ground, Wade fired a single round towards the ledge.

“Christ!” Sheridan shouted in agonizing pain.

Wade placed his foot on the spear to break and shorten it and after he did, he threw Sheridan’s arm around his shoulders. “It’s too late!” the wounded man cried. And it was. A dozen blood soaked warriors appeared before them like ghosts from the ether and had them surrounded. Wade dropped the rifle to his side and the leader approached him and looked upon him with pugnacious eyes.

“Ah psh NEE!” the warrior cried in an alien tongue and his breath reeked of a putrid grave. Two more naked warriors flanked the men on both sides and took them by the arms.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 9

Sheridan hardly budged. He promised him several sheckles of silver as a down payment plus a partition of the land on the north shore of Siana once Milner purchased it. But the old drifter only spat and drank whiskey and he sat alone while he considered the offer. Meanwhile Wade dug through the old bottles in the tavern cellar before settling on an aged bourbon. He twisted off the cap and threw it to the ground then whiffed the bottle. “I haven’t seen a bottle of bourbon in ten years,” he said to Sheridan. “You’re sitting on a fortune.”

The old man waved him off.

Wade took a swig then sat it down. He hung the satchel around his body and threw the rifle bag over his right shoulder and proceeded towards the door. “If I leave here, I won’t be coming back,” he said. “The offer will be null and void. Are you coming or not?”

Sheridan begrudgingly recorked the whiskey and prodded through the clutter before finding a tactical buck knife and then reached for an old Winchester and it’s case. He placed the rifle in the bag then closed it and looked sternly at Wade.

“You don’t know what’s out there,” he warned.

“Pack lightly,” said Wade.

Under the drizzled rain they left the deserted streets of Khiva and marched north toward the Yorkin Pass nestled in the Urbanas. They stopped briefly to fill their canteens at a passing rivulet before pressing forth and as the elevation climbed the air thinned out. When they were above the prevailing mysts of the Siana Valley and they walked at the feet of barren peaks, they came across a peculiar boulder at the opening of the pass. On its face was imprinted a palm in darkened and dried blood.

“Followers of Jonny?” asked Wade.

Sheridan couldn’t be sure.

At high noon they arrived at the summit of the pass before drifting downhill towards the plateau of Nain. The peaks again grew taller and the two men found themselves in a deep crevice surrounded by brown rock on all sides. At the opening several yards ahead they see a lone warrior standing tall with a spear in hand. As they approached they could make him more clearly. The man was totally naked and drenched in blood and grease from head to toe and his rotten stench extended out several feet. He lowered his spear and the travelers stopped.

Wade lowered his rifle. “You seem to be outgunned,” he called to the naked man.

“Have you been baptized in the blood?” the warrior posed.

“What?”

“This is the Valley of Josea. The gateway to the land of God.”

“And who’s that?”

“Josea. The prophet of Jonny. You are trespassers.”

“Is that so? Well how about I blow a hole in you right here and be done with it?”

“You could. But there will be others. There’s an easier way to pass through.”

“And what’s that?”

“You could surrender arms and join us in the purification of the body. We baptize not by water but by the blood of the slaughtered. For the land of Nain is sanctified and only the holy may enter.”

Wade cocked the rifle and pulled the trigger.

TO BE CONTINUED…