kingdom of god 7

Satisfied with the representative’s response, Wade left the Agency’s office and headed back towards the inn. When he arrived he informed the innkeeper to hold his room for a few more days while he went north yet the innkeeper only moaned and protested.

“I took a closer look at that gold ring you gave me and it ain’t worth two rat shits put together. You’ll have to find another form of payment,” the man said.

But Wade spat on the floor and put his hands on the desk. “I’m gonna need the silver. I’ll pay you when I get back,” he told the innkeeper.

“No sir. I need payments up front.”

“And what about you snoopin around rooms while your guests are away? I doubt the Guild would take kindly to what’s going on here.”

“The Guild don’t have no say in how I do business! Now you get your shit and get outta here!”

“Then I want my ring back.”

“Why?”

“If it ain’t worth two shits then what difference does it make?”

“And what about the whore?”

“I’ll settle up with her later.”

The innkeeper gave the ring back and Wade gathered his things with the satchel dangling in front of him and rifle case around his shoulder and he departed towards the river’s edge. There a ferryman stood by and Wade gave him a piece of silver to boat him to the northern shore. As the ferryman cast off, more Nighthawks scrambled overhead and the ferryman chuckled.

“Ya know, they say that the longer you spend on this river that the river will eventually speak to ya,” the ferryman joked. “But I hear nothing from this water. The only thing I hear is that damn screamin from the sky. I found two bodies floating downstream yesterday. Last week I found six! I suppose the creeks from them mountains are washing the bodies down here. Goddamn. I don’t know what kind of fool would want to go up that a way but I imagine if anything is talkin these days it’s the folks up in those hills. The only folks they sendin down this way are their dead and a graveyards ain’t known for being jovial.”

Wade said nothing as he watched the waters glide underneath the boat.

“I can see you ain’t much of a talker neither,” the ferryman said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 6

And in the morning he stashed away his belongings under the floorboards and away from the prying eyes of the innkeeper and then he marched back down the steps and into the musty streets of Harar where overhead was heard the screaming of Nighthawk missiles as they thundered through the sky and headed northward. Minutes later Wade arrived at the old storefront which housed the local offices of Agency representative Javier Gomez where the inside remained a barren landmark of time in memoriam. The representative himself sans a robust staff scribbled on a notepad at his desk with his back turned against the window facing the northerly Urbana Mountains. Nighthawks continued roaring overhead and were barely muffled by the brick and insulation. Wade noticed Gomez’s hand shaking.

“You think it’s bad here,” he told the representative, “think about how bad it must be for the people of Nain.”

Ignoring his comment and not looking up, Gomez continued his pointless jotting. “What can I do you for Wade?”

“Milner wants to make a bid,” he said.

Gomez dropped the pen and clasped his hands on the desk. “On what?” the representative asked.

“On the lands northwest of the Siana. Just on the border of Milner’s.”

Gomez shook his head and resumed the jotting. “You’re a little late,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“It already has a bid and I doubt you could beat it.”

“By who?”

“You know who.”

“The Shepherd?”

Gomez nodded.

“Do you know where he is? Perhaps I could discuss the matter with him.”

The representative once again looked up. “That’s not a good idea. As of lately negotiating with him hasn’t been good for one’s health.”

“Are you referring to Tollum’s land?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I passed through it on my way up.”

“Then you know exactly what I mean.”

“But you’re the agency. Can’t you facilitate some sort of arrangement?”

“It doesn’t work that way and you know it.”

“Then maybe I should go up there and take care of that problem for you.”

Gomez’s face turned a bright red and he lifted a finger towards Wade. “You listen to me goddamnit! You keep your mouth shut! I won’t have talk of killin in my offices!”

“I said nothing about killin, Javier. You did.”

“I’m not a fool! I know what Milner pays you for and I don’t like it!”

“Have you been to Tollum’s lately? Women and children dead in the streets with their bones getting picked apart by old hermits. I suppose you’ll cede that land to the Shepherd as well? What good is an agency if it can’t stop this lawlessness?”

Javier piped down and lowered his head back to the notepad. “Alright then. If you want to negotiate with the Shepherd then that’s your business. And unless a lawful agreement can be reached, I don’t want to know about it. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 4

North to Nain was a day’s travel on water but the rivers to the east and west were polluted by thieves and robbers of the night which left Wade little choice but to travel overland. The roads were ruptured and shattered and the earth under the asphalt remained in upheaval from the shock of aerial bombardment and the land was festered with the corpses of timber and rusted steel. It was futile for thieves to rummage these parts. But miles ahead through the sun soaked fog, the wanderer saw a curious fellow scouring the naked fields. He momentarily corrected course to follow this itinerant hermit through the brush and through the sea of purpled phlox and arrived at the deserted town once owned by the Tollom Corporation. Wade lowered his rifle then marched forth and whether through disease or famine the dead lay untouched in their homes while the children were shot in the streets with the women mangled and skirts upturned. He stopped the old hermit as he rummaged through the corpses for any morsel of worth left in this decayed land.

“What happened here?” Wade asked the old man.

“What’s been happening,” the hermit said.

“What happened to Tollum?”

“I reckon he refused to sell.”

“Sell to whom?”

“The Shepherd.”

The old hermit moved from body to body and picked apart their swollen and bloodied remains and then burrowed into the abandoned homes and storefronts for anything not yet taken by thieves and the hermit would stash his findings into a brown leather satchel before resuming his ghoulish search. And Wade would watch the old man creep and slink around like a cat cautiously poking through a rubble of trash.

“Did you know these people?” he asked the hermit.

“No not really,” said the old man.

Then he found the body of a woman with breast exposed and belly cut open on the ground and he reached into her dress to retrieve a singular golden ring. He held the ring up and flashed his rotted teeth to signal his biggest find of the day then he dropped the ring into the satchel. Wade lowered his rifle and fired a round into the chest of the hermit and the bullet busted open his chest and the old man collapsed backward to the ground. He walked towards the hermit and when he saw that he was dead, Wade took the satchel and threw it around his shoulder.

It was two more days before he reached the edge of Nain.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 2

The two men marched the two women through the torched and upturned earth past charred trees and stones where echoes of the living had found their resting place. Though the dull and grey and blackened vestiges of bloodshed dotted the countryside, to the south remained a symbol of past and future. A village, or what seemed like one, aligned with stinging metal and men standing watch and looking towards the great abyss beyond. In the center of it all was a relic to law and order. Perhaps it was a courthouse before the days of the alleged war but to the women it was a tawdry reminder of a failed establishment.

The men pushed the women towards the harem where they were stripped and searched and issued new attire. When it was over, the man took the older woman aside.

“Where were you going?” he asked her.

“It’s…it’s difficult to explain,” she stammered.

“Will there be others coming through?”

“I don’t know.”

The man took out an old pack of cigarettes and offered the woman one. She refused. He placed one in his mouth and lit it. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Regina.”

“Regina. What did you do before this?”

“I’m a follower of Jonny.”

“Jonny? The magician?”

“He’s not a magician.”

“Well you know that he died in an attack many years ago.”

“He promised he’ll be back.”

“It’s hard to come back from being blown to smithereens.”

The man stamped out his cigarette and escorted the women to their quarters but before he left the woman Regina stopped him. “Why are you doing this to us?” she inquired.

“You are now property of the Milner Corporation,” he informed her. “The men executed. Were they your family?”

The woman nodded.

“According to law, we are permitted to liquidate men of fighting age,” he said. “You may not understand but as we told you, this is private land. When the war is over, everything that you saw will be fully developed into something greater than what it was before. There is a lot of money to be made. A future to restore.”

“But what will happen to us?”

“You needn’t worry,” the man said. “As women you will bear the future. You will be a part of something wonderful and in time you will understand.”

The women took their bedside. But before the man left, he stopped and turned around. “My name is Wade,” he said. “Welcome to the Promised Land.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

the kingdom of god 1

A speck meandering through darkness. Focus on it long enough and it becomes indistinguishable from the vacuum in which it sojourns. To notice it would seem like a blunder from an otherwise faultless maker. But It is on this canvas of blackened nullity where hopes and dreams reside. Where love and tribulation live side by side like paramours in the dead of night. Look a little closer and a tale will emerge. These chronicles are familiar to us but exist as abominations in the ceaseless void.

Every story must begin somewhere. And this one begins here.

Light puckers intermittently through the greyish mist and a man is huddled under mounds of filth and turnt up earth. He looks upon the valley beneath him like a god casting a shadow on his accursed domain and like a god he sees its few inhabitants as a foolish catch. “Travelers,” he murmurs to himself.

The other man grips his weapon and rejoices like a salivating leopard. “Day travelers,” he gleams.

The man stands up on his kingdomly mound and shouts to the transgressors below. “Halt!” he ordered. The travelers stop and see the specter of a figure several meters above them. There were four in the caravan and one and one attempted a flee. But the man with the weapon rifles a bullet over his shoulder and the young traveler freezes at the kicked up dirt before him.

The two men traverse down the mound to meet their visitors and both were brandishing weapons. They inform the travelers that they were in violation of the law for this was private land. “We are not from the Agency,” the first traveler informed them.

“I figured “ said the man.

“We are fleeing the latest strikes.”

“Where to?”

The traveler didn’t answer.

The man rummages through their belongings and finds little of interest. Just enough food and clothing sufficient for a journey. Then the man looks under the hood of a shrouded traveler. It was a woman.

“I’m taking her according to the law,” the man declared.

“She’s only 15,” said the other woman.

“I’m taking you too.”

“Please have mercy,” begged the traveler. “We have no weapons. We didn’t know this was private land!”

“I’m only doing what the law allows,” said the man.

“Then the law is dead!”

The two men slew the male travelers and gathered their remains. Then they calmed the women at gunpoint then escorted them out of the valley.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia (Conclusion)

Jim reached for his six shooter but he wasn’t quick enough. The cabbie reached for the gun and pulled it from his hands. “Nice pistol you got there old man,” the cabbie said. “But you’re a little slow on the draw.”

Luckily I had the Ruger ready and fired a single shot into the cabbie’s thigh. He fell backwards onto the cab and held his hand over the wound. “That’s for taking the pistol,” I said to him while I was bleeding out on the ground. “Now you better scram before things get ugly.”

Without saying a word, the cabbie stumbled back into the driver’s seat and sped off and then Old Jim attempted to help me to my feet. “It’s fine,” I told him. But it wasn’t fine. The exit wound went through my kidney and blood was soaking up my shirt.

With his arm around me, we stumbled up into the hills before finding a secluded rock overlooking the Los Angeles skyline. I fell to my feet with my back to the rock to rest. I figured I wouldn’t be getting up. “Suppose we need to get you to the hospital,” offered Old Jim.

“Nah,” I said. “I’m ready to meet my prince.”

Jim gloomfully nodded. He planted his back against the rock and we admired the sight before us. I figured I’d have more to say in a moment like this but I didn’t. I didn’t know what time it was but it felt like the sun was racing towards the horizon.

“What do you reckon you’ll do now?” I asked Jim.

“I dunno,” he said.

“I think I have the keys to my apartment somewhere on me,” I said. But I was too weak to reach for them.

“It’s okay,” said Jim. “I never had a home anyway.”

“I guess I owe you an apology too.”

“Forget it,” he said. “I ain’t long for this world no how.”

Those were the last words we said.

It was just before sunup when I woke up alone still rested by the rock. My keys and the Ruger were gone and Jim was nowhere to be found. It felt like the blood was completely drained from my body. I looked around to see the boomer with the Mitsubishi from months earlier leaned up against his car on the side of the road and smoking a cigarette. When he was done with the smoke, he flicked it to the ground and stamped it out.

“What time is it?” I asked him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Come on son. We’ve been up in the hills long enough.”

THE END

Anaideia 51

Welcome to Utah the sign read. I knew exactly where we were headed; it was to the charred remains of the Candyland Brothel where so many of Randy’s victims met their end. It was at the thick of day when the Cadillac and limousine pulled off into an undisclosed dirt road and down through the mountain pass where we braved the threat of Penelope with the late Vic Weathers weeks earlier. It felt like ages ago. Finally we entered the dry lake basin and there in the center was the remains of Randy’s empire in the desert. With his pistol ready, the driver ordered us to exit the limo.

Randy climbed out of the driver’s seat of the Cadillac while gnawing on a Slim Jim. The Madam got out on the passenger’s side and Old Jim from the backseat. Randy offered Dale and me some of his processed jerky.

“Shove it up your ass,” I retorted to his offer. But Dale accepted.

Randy took a deep breath and looked around him. “Such a beautiful country,” he said.

“It’s dead,” I replied. “Just like I will be. And with any luck you will be too.”

He spat and shook his head. “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I have something I want to say,” Dale interjected. “Before I die, I’d like to say I feel blessed to have had the time of my life. I never thought that…” But before he could finish, the driver lifted his Ruger to the back of his head and pulled the trigger. The bullet exited his forehead and his body fell limply to the ground.

I turned my eyes.

And when the shock of his death wore off, Randy signaled to the driver to shoot me next. “Just a moment,” Old Jim interrupted. “I’ll handle this.”

“Dad,” Randy pleaded, “just let him do it.”

“No no, it’s fine.”

Jim checked his six shooter and walked over to me. “Sorry James,” he informed me.

“I don’t take it personally,” I said.

Jim relieved the driver and I looked to the shadows on the ground to see his pistol aimed at my head. Then I looked Randy dead in the eye and the seconds felt like eternity.

There was a gun shot. I again looked at the shadows and watched the driver fall to the ground. When I turned around, he had a hole blasted through his temple.

“Dad! What are you doing?” Randy shouted.

“Well I figured I couldn’t shoot my own grandson,” Jim reasoned.

Randy and the Madam were stunned silent. I nodded a thanks to Jim and picked up the Ruger from the driver’s lifeless body. “Well Randy, it looks like you’ll be dead sooner than I expected,” I said.

“James, don’t be stupid,” he pleaded.

I looked at Dale’s corpse. “Don’t feel too bad for him,” I said to Randy. “He knew what was coming. What’s about to happen has nothing to do with that.”

“What’s about to happen?”

I looked to the mountain pass and then up at the lingering sun. “You claim this as your empire,” I said, “but you have a challenger. I suspect that the sun will set behind those mountains in about four hours. It’s possible to reach the pass before then. I would know.”

Then I shot him in the kneecap.

While he pathetically screamed in agony, I came closer. “Unfortunately I think you can still make it to the pass before Penelope can get to you,” I said, “so I’m gonna need an additional handicap.”

So I shot him in the other kneecap.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 49

Randy finished his glass of scotch and paced around the basement. At that moment there was nothing I wanted more than to be done with this charade so I looked at Dale who was unbothered by this tension. “Well Randy,” I declared, “I don’t forgive you. So let’s stop pussyfooting around and get this over with.”

Randy stopped pacing and looked at the Madam and her eyes drifted to the floor. Then he sighed and poured another glass. “You know what this means don’t you?” he asked me.

“It means in a matter of minutes we’ll dead and buried,” I said plainly.

He swallowed the scotch whole. “But what about your friend there?” he asked, referring to Dale.

“Oh, me?” said Dale. “Yeah I’ve know that this was coming for a long time.”

I could’ve been wrong but I thought I saw a small tear streaking down Randy’s cheek. Whatever emotions he might’ve been feeling, he concealed them well with his following statements. “Okay then,” he said, “but I won’t do it here. This is my home. I wish that I could have given you a better ending but I must have you two escorted to the desert and shot. I’m very sorry.”

“Shove your apologies,” I said.

Randy signaled to the driver and the driver briefly left the room. A moment later, Old Jim stepped out from behind the door with his six shooter ready. “Jim!” I gasped.

“How’s your aim dad?” Randy asked him.

“I may be old, but I can still shoot the pecker off a…”

“Alright alright,” Randy interrupted him. “Take these men out to the desert and have them killed.”

“Dad?!” I shouted.

“Yeah, Old Jim is my dad. Which makes him your grandpa I suppose. I thought it was obvious. You’re both named James. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road…”

Christ, I thought. It was obvious. But it didn’t matter anymore. Old Jim and the driver approached us and took us by the arm. “Hello James,” Jim said to me.

“Jim! Papaw!”

“Papaw,” said Jim. “I remember my papaw. Legend has it that his dick was two feet long and he strangled Wild Bill Hickok with…”

“Dad!” Randy interrupted. “Enough with the stories! We have a job to do!”

“And where are you going?” I asked Randy as he was picking up several Manila envelopes.

“I have a meeting with the Vietnamese in an hour. Sorry that I can’t make it.”

“So a meeting with the Vietnamese is more important than the death of your own son?”

Randy stood motionless at my challenge. “But this is a very important meeting,” he said.

I shook my head. “How typical of Randy,” I said rhetorically. “He can’t even look his own son in the eye.”

He slammed the glass onto the tiled floor and it shattered into a thousand pieces. The Madam was startled by the sudden burst. “Alright! Goddamn you!” he shouted. “If this is what you want then I will grant you your last request! I will, by god, journey with you to the desert where you will meet your demise!”

“Thanks Randy,” I said. “That’s very sweet of you.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 48

Randy didn’t know what to make of Susan. He sipped the scotch mere feet from her face with her eyes bowed to the floor. I turned my head to see a tear stream down her face. Though this was the moment she had been waiting for, nothing had prepared her for it. “I don’t think I know you,” Randy said.

Susan palmed her eyes and lifted her head to face him. When I looked at Randy, I could tell he was genuinely perplexed. “Where is my mother?” Susan managed to squeak out.

Randy squinted his eyes and took another sip. He lowered the glass and placed it in his left hand. “Darling,” he said, putting his right hand to her cheek, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand your question.”

“Where is MY mother,” she repeated.

“If you could tell me who you are, perhaps I could help,” he said, taken back by her sudden forcefulness.

“Susan.”

“Susan who?”

“Susan Brucetti.”

He took his hand off her face and had another sip. “Brucetti?” he asked and swallowed hard. “I believe a Lyonette Brucetti was under my employment many years ago. Is that your mother?”

Susan nodded and lowered her head again. Randy’s face began to blush and he nervously scratched his head. “I’m afraid that I haven’t seen Lyonette in some time,” he explained. “Last I heard, she was living in Chico with her husband. I apologize, but I haven’t been keeping close tabs on her.”

“You’re a liar,” Susan said.

“Pardon?”

“You’re a liar. You sold her into sex slavery.”

“W-why would I do that?”

“Because that’s the kind of man you are!”

“Susan, sweetheart, I think you have the wrong idea. You see, Lyonette and I were lovers for a very long time. I loved her. Why would I sell someone I love into slavery?”

“Then why would she abandon me?!”

Randy turned around and refused to face us. He sat his glass of scotch down and rubbed his brow. “I’m sorry Susan,” he said, “had I of known, I would have done something.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a child together. A girl.”

Susan looked at me with wide eyes. No words came. In real time I could see her heart sink to her feet and Dale shook his head. “Told you it was a mistake,” he uttered under his breath.

“Goddamnit Dale,” I said.

“What was a mistake?” asked Randy, still not facing us.

“Forget it,” I said.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Susan.

Randy picked up the glass again and ignored the comment entirely. He turned around and leaned against the table. “Susan, my dear, I think you should leave,” he said. “I don’t want you to be a part of what’s about to happen.”

Susan quietly nodded and the driver took her by the arm and escorted her upstairs. She never looked back at me. She was defeated.

When she was gone and the shock wore off, I looked at Randy. “Two damaged children,” I said. “That’s your real legacy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 47

It was a shame that we arrived in Tahoe after nightfall. The mountain vistas and alpine would have been a glorious sight to see before death. But the limousine descended into obscure wavy backroads before arriving at Randy’s rocky sprawl and the driver exited the vehicle with a Ruger ready. “Welcome to the Furie estate,” he said after opening the backseat door. “Please step out of the vehicle or be shot.”

We complied with his demand and stood in a row in the late night mountain air and the driver waved us in through the immaculate entrance. Inside the mansion, the walls were adorned with bear skins and moose heads with a few human skulls for added effect. But before I could take it all in we were pushed through the house and down the stairs into a padded and soundproofed basement where on the other end Randy was yelling racial slurs through a microphone while playing Baldur’s Gate. We stood on one end of the basement while the driver shuffled to the other end to inform Mr. Furie.

“Your guests sir,” the driver said.

Randy swiveled around in his chair and when he laid eyes upon us he smiled. “Welcome! Welcome!” he greeted.

“Randy, if this is supposed to scare me then you’re doing a shitty job,” I said.

“Scare you? Why would I try to scare you?” he asked.

He stood up and flattened out his maroon smoking jacket and the Madam stepped through a hidden door disguised as a book case and handed him a glass of scotch. He took the glass then sniffed and swirled it. “The real reason I asked you here is to beg for your forgiveness,” he informed us.

“Why should I forgive you?” I said.

Randy squinted to bear through what seemed to be his internal torment. “Oh why can’t you see the burden placed upon my shoulders?” he posed. “The whole world pleads for forbidden contraband and services and those screams fall into my ears like cries in the night.”

“I can’t imagine the pain you must be in,” I said sarcastically.

“No man can imagine it,” he said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “I come from a long line of service providers; an ancient lineage we are.”

“No doubt,” I said. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“I’ve always desired you to be a part of this proud tradition,” he said with a tinge of mournfulness. “There’s no greater honor than a son following his father’s footsteps.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” I replied.

Randy stepped a little closer with scotch in hand to look us up and down. He could tell something was amiss. “Where’s the fellow among you who destroyed my desert fortress?” he asked.

“He died in the wilderness weeks after,” I told him.

“A tragedy for you no doubt. But a fitting end for a warrior.”

“He got what was coming to him.”

“A fate that we all must face.”

TO BE CONTINUED…