Mer Rouge (Part 24)

The priest put his ear to the frail wood panel wall and focused. After one of the brothers spoke, a muffled voice responded. “Who the fuck are you guys?”. Given the clarity of the brother’s voice, it indicated that they were facing the back wall the priest hid behind. The exchange continued.

“We’re looking for the spring. Where is it?”

“What fucking spring?”

“We’re not stupid, Mr. Fornier.”

“I don’t know of any goddamn spring.”

“And the water you sell?”

“Look, if you want any of that snake oil piss, I’m a little busy right now…”

A gunshot rang out followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor and the Fornier man cried out. “You dun shot my knee!” he yelped. Shaken, the priest holstered the Smith & Wesson and readied the 12 gauge Mossberg hidden under his smock. By now, voices were so heightened that there was no need to put an ear to the wall. The priest quietly mumbled his prayers.

“Who provides you with the water?” he heard a brother ask.

“I…I…it’s my cousin!”

“Where is he?”

“He’s a deputy with the Morehouse Parish Sheriff’s Department!”

“In Louisiana?”

“Yes!”

Another shot was fired and Fornier’s whimpering stopped. The priest kicked open the back door with the shotgun ready. In the brief flash of time before shots were fired, the priest noticed Fornier’s body draped in a barber’s cape with his jaw half covered in shaving cream while the panic stricken barber stood off to the side with his hands in the air. Thankfully, the priest was correct in where the brothers were standing. Without a second to spare, he unloaded the shotgun towards the brother standing on the right and the glass shattered behind him. It was apparent he missed the kill shot, yet the brother stumbled backwards and the other began ripping bullets from what appeared to be a Tommy gun. The priest leapt back behind the wall and the bullets tore through the wood. When he attempted to return fire, the brothers were already outside of the barbershop and one dispatched a Molotov cocktail. The flames roared through the shop, across Fornier’s body, and cutting off the main entrance. While the barber himself was on the floor desperately trying to escape the smoke, the priest reached out a hand. “Here!” he shouted. Yet another gun shot rang out and struck the barber in the back. The priest, now laying low to the ground, crawled back towards the rear entrance. Once outside, as smoke billowed from the building, he ran down the back alley and towards the front. When he got there, the brothers and their bike were long gone.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Mer Rouge (Part 22)

The putrid and rank possum’s corpse laid on the southbound lane headed into Vicksburg. For three days it festered under the sweltering August heat, with red guts spattered on both sides of the road before spoiling and flattening into a pancake with a few scant shit flies picking at its remains. On the northbound side, Deputy Gene Ricketts rested his squad car underneath the large sweetgum lined up on the left side entrance to the old Hopper farm by the lonesome highway. With the driver’s side door open, he spat countless sunflower seed hulls into the unkempt grass while Don Williams softly played. But when the sunflower seeds couldn’t keep his mind off the spittin tobacco, he turned to the 100 proof Jack in the concealed thermos on the passenger’s side floor. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the heat ratcheted up ten degrees every hour. As the time slowly passed, the deputy would dab a rag across his forehead. Eventually, the song faded out and the radio station transitioned to the latest country hit. And as it did, the deputy looked down the road towards the north. A mile or two ahead, through the unbearable Mississippi heat and mirage waves, a small motor vehicle came barreling towards him—an easy speeding ticket, likely his only for the day. He squinted his eyes. It was a motorcycle clearly, but with something peculiar. It had a sidecar. The deputy closed the door and cut on the engine and waited for the bike to roar past him. And when it did, the siren blared and the Warren County squad car sped away from the dirt patch on the side of the road and left a cloud of red dust lingering behind.

The bike didn’t put up much of a fight. Upon noticing the deputy behind, the driver pulled over and braked. The squad car stopped two or three meters away. Deputy Ricketts climbed out, shades concealing his eyes, and he slowly sauntered towards the offending vehicle. There were two men—one on the bike and one in the side car. Neither turned around. Neither made a sound. “Well boys,” the deputy said, “that’s one helluva knucklehead ya got there. Not sure if the sidecar is street legal. But I might let it slide.”

The two men—decked out in black leather, mud washed denim, and wearing German-made half helmets—remained silent. The deputy looked at the license plate. “Ontario?” the deputy beamed. “Canadian, eh?”

They said nothing.

The deputy strolled up to the front of the bike to gander at their faces. His brow furrowed. Like him, the two men had their eyes concealed behind reflecting shades. Their faces looked cut from stone, each sporting a dark chevron mustache. If the deputy had to have guessed, he would have reckoned they were twins. “My my,” Ricketts spoke, “don’t you two make quite a pair.”

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 23

Stephanos puzzled at the strange man sitting across the fire. The boy snuggled up to him and the man reached into his duster for a canteen. “I’m sorry,” the preacher said. “I’ve seen so many faces. Forgive me if I don’t recognize you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the drifter told him. “I’ve seen hundreds of your kind. All with different faces but the same prying eyes. None of you know Jonny from a hole in the ground.”

“That’s not true,” Stephanos protested.

“It’s not? Do you know who that fellow over there is?”

“He was of the agency.”

“Yes. He was Javier Gomez.”

“And how do you know him?”

“I know an enemy when I see one. That’s the difference between you and me.”

“But there are no enemies in the eyes of God.”

“God? Do you think his kingdom dwells in the heavens? Or does it dwell down here, with flesh and blood?”

“As equal creatures in the eyes of God, we will all be relieved of the burden of flesh and blood once we enter his kingdom in heaven.”

The drifter smiled and picked his teeth. His scars flashed as malicious augury against the flames. “You have some funny ideas, preacher,” he said. “Your kind is always searching for the unexplainable in the mystical. It’s indistinguishable from the nonexistent. While tales of magic inspire awe, it prevents you from seeing what’s right in front of you. Evil is real and it sits right next to us. God is not a god of unseen power but is force is itself. To extinguish evil, it takes power. It takes force. You don’t believe in god. You believe in vanity. There is no future for you, only the complacency of an ever cursed present.”

The preacher didn’t reply. He considered reaching for the Colt but the drifter already had fingers on the shotgun. “I don’t want any problems,” Stephanos told him.

“I don’t either,” said the drifter. Then he lifted the shotgun and blew a hole in the preacher’s chest. After emptying the shells, he approached Stephanos’ corpse and took his pistol and placed it under his duster. Then he took the child by the hand and they resumed their path down the king’s road.

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 23

The preacher lifted Gomez over his shoulders and carried him down king’s road. Passersby only glared at the men as sweat drenched down Stephanos’ face. Blood trickled down his smock. Urgency coursed through his veins as the midday sun beat down upon him. “I’m a dead man,” said Gomez. “Just leave me here.” But the preacher ignored him. Miles ahead and his knees began to buckle. He saw a thicket of trees yards off to the right and headed towards it. In a small clearing, he laid down Gomez’s whitening body and tended to his bleeding. “Thank you for your help preacher,” the dying man said, “but there’s nothing more to be done.” Blood puddled into the grass and Gomez grew cold. Before nightfall, he was dead.

Stephanos sat silently beneath the trees for several hours while Gomez’s body rested peacefully against the oak. The nighttime prairie glowed from a full moon and the preacher figured he would bury him in the morning. Numbed by the day’s pain, he struggled to make his bed. Against his better instincts, he dug through the deceased man’s remains and made a fire. He didn’t eat and he didn’t drink. His eyes remained fixed on the smoldering flame.

The hours passed. The preacher’s eyes grew heavy. Then there was a cracking at the edge of the meadow. He turned around to find a hunched over man walking hand in hand with a small boy. As they approached, the fire illuminated the man’s face. He was scared and bundled up in a charcoaled duster. What appeared to be a cane holding him up was actually a long range shotgun. Staphanos thought of reaching for the pistol but the small boy threw him off. The boy was five or six years old and said nothing.

“Excuse me sir,” the man said. “Mind if we rest by your fire?”

The preacher drew a sigh of relief and welcomed them in. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry but I have to food or water to give you.”

“What about that fellow over there?”

“He’s dead.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No. I found him wounded on the side of the road. I couldn’t save him.”

The man straightened out his coat and sat next to the fire. The boy sat with him. He sat the shotgun off to the side and held his hands over the fire. “I’m Stephanos, an emissary of Jonny,” the preacher said. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes I know who you are,” the man said.

“You’ve seen me before?”

“In Cessa in fact. You claim to have received the word directly from Jonny.”

“That is true. I have received the word.”

“Then tell me preacher. If you’ve received the word from Jonny, why don’t you recognize me?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 22

And with Cessa gone, the preacher wondered senselessly toward the bountiful vista. He thought that when the king’s road ended he might journey further into the marauding lands. But as thoughts of an unknown future conjured, he held the pistol and considered burying it under a stone or tossing it into a passing creek. The path was lonely. Only an occasional drifter came coursing along towards the beleaguered south. No words were exchanged between the parties. They both knew fate had them marching towards perdition. But a little deeper into the steppe, Stephanos happened across a traveler beaten and battered behind a small sandstone deposit. He was unconscious. The preacher dabbled water onto his lips and when he came to, he noticed the traveler was stabbed and his leg broken. He rested him against the rock and tended to his bleeding. They rested there for several hours and at sundown, the preacher made a fire and gave him what little substance he could provide. Afterward, he stood watch throughout the night while on the lookout for returning marauders.

He thought about the pistol. He took it from the holster and held it firmly.

By morning, the bleeding had stopped. The traveler awoke and asked for water and the preacher provided. “I’m Stephanos, an emissary of Johnny,” he told the traveler.

The man lowered the canteen from his lips. “I’m Javier Gomez, a representative from the Agency,” he said.

“How did this happen to you?”

Gomez struggled to recall. “I was attacked on my HUV returning to Nisan. I don’t know. They must have taken it.”

“The vehicle?”

“Yes.”

“Were they going south?”

“Yes.”

Stephanos stood up and stared down the path towards the horizon. The sun was climbing towards its zenith and the nearest inn was miles away. He knew he would have to carry Gomez the entire way and that they wouldn’t make it before sundown. “I suspect you were followed,” he told Gomez. “You’re from the agency. Why were you traveling alone?”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“What happened to the others?”

“I don’t know. I was returning from Cessa.”

“Why?”

“Because the Shepherd had called for me.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 21

Stephanos left the temple before dusk and trekked north from the city center past the beggars and the guards through the morning dew and back towards the northern steppe. Outside of the walls where the sheep herders and common traders were gathered, he attracted a small flock led by Jena and she accosted him while men gathered stones and small arms. The preacher threw up his hood and held his head low but Jena spat and cursed upon him. A stone struck his back and knocked him to the ground, but before the crowd could descend upon him, the woman fought back the agitators and permitted him safe passage. With the city behind him, he prayed to the god which had forsakened him for the forgiveness of his transgressors and for the soul of Nisan. The preacher never returned.

He traversed the king’s road past the sandstone barriers which marked the northerly entrance of the Nisan province and the road gently sloped downward into a sea of green and gold grasses. The prairie flattened. As the sun lingered in the sky, Stephanos could make out specks floating along the deep blue horizon. While the wild horses were long gone, the preacher presumed them to be travelers or a caravan of light vehicles that once dominated the steppe. But as they drew nigh, it was apparent that they were indeed men with horses. With caution entering his mind, Stephanos threw up his hands with his left showing the sign of Jonny. They came closer. He could see they had faces painted like those of marauders with spears of scalps and bones, and when they were in earshot, he greeted them in the Saranian tongue.

The leader returned his greet. “I speak your tongue,” he told the preacher.

“Then you should know I hold no weapon,” Stephanos said. “I am an emissary of Jonny and I’m returning to Cessa.”

“I can see that,” the marauder informed him. “I do not intend you harm but you must surrender your gold and silver.”

“But I don’t carry much.”

“Then give us what you have.”

The preacher lowered his hands and surrendered his satchel. A marauder climbed off his horse to gather it and slung it around his body. Pitying the dispossessed, the leader reached into his saddle and tossed Stephanos a Colt revolver pistol sheathed in a leather holster. “Cessa has been destroyed by Nighthawks,” he informed the preacher. “You will need that weapon on the road ahead. I suggest you use it.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

kingdom of god 20

But before he departed the city, Stephanos sought refuge in the temple. He wept at the feet of the gods and prayed for the people of Nain and his safe passage to the steppe. He was joined by the temple priest who laid his hands upon him and comforted him. “I know you,” the priest said. “I’ve heard your message.”

“I was just released from the citadel,” he told the priest. “What have the people done to deserve this?”

The holy man took the preacher by the arms and embraced him. “I had you released,” the priest said. “Your message of peace towards the Shepherd rings true. But if the word of Jonny is correct, then we must do as the Shepherd says and prepare the people to leave the Nain”

Consternation came upon the preacher and he challenged the priest. “Jonny spoke no such words,” he said.

“I was there Stephanos,” the priest reassured him. “I knew and understood the heart of Jonny and was given the commission to spread his word.”

The preacher realized that he knew this man as the first ambassador of Jonny, the speaker of truth. “You’re Telas?” he asked.

“Aye. I am he. I loved Jonny as a brother. And as his humbled servant, he named me as the stone on which to build his temple.”

“But where must the people go?”

“Southwards. Past the Urbanas and the river of Siana. There a new kingdom will be created. God’s kingdom. And there is where the Temple will be established and the word of Jonny proclaimed. Emissaries have been sent to prepare the way.

“I don’t understand. Jonny said the Nain was the established kingdom.”

“Was the word revealed to you Stephanos?”

“Yes. When I was imprisoned in Cessea. A vision appeared to me in the night and the truth spoken. Others saw it and I was given my own commission.”

“Then I am afraid that you are mistaken. I saw the messenger with my own eyes. He spoke to me in his earthy form. His own flesh and blood body.”

“Telas, I’m sorry. But it is you who is mistaken. It is the heavenly form which is greater than the flesh and blood. That is the word which must be made manifest. Peace can be restored with the Shepherd and the land can remain with its rightful heirs.”

The great priest’s eyes grew heavy and he did not wish to continue the bickering. He waved the preacher off but not before extending him a courtesy. “You must return to the steppe,” Telas ordered. “You can stay in the temple for the night. But you must leave by morning.”

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…

kingdom of god 17

Wade and the girl reached the southern slopes into the Siana River valley under a cloudless and sullen moon. They crossed the rocky rivulets back into the abandoned village of Khiva and when they reached the tavern, the girl took clothes for life in the new world and they held refuge there for two days. Wade plundered through Sheridan’s belongings searching for anything of worth but he found only a few shekels of silver and whiskey bottles and nothing else. He stashed them in his satchel and in the morning they marched several miles eastward toward the river’s edge and when they saw Harar on the southern shore, the ferryman saw them and took them across. The old man remarked on Wade’s silent companion and then informed them of nighthawks screaming southbound days earlier. “I’d watch yourself with a pretty young thing in tow,” the ferryman warned. But Wade dismissed him and headed into town.

Despite coldness drifting from the west, Harar was largely vacant of trappers and prospectors that populated its streets during the wintry months and the Agency office too was deserted. Only the innkeeper kept business afloat and when Wade saw him take respite under the awning, he called out to him.

“If you see Gomez, tell him I’m looking for him!” Wade shouted.

But the innkeeper lifted a pipe to his lips and said nothing. They pushed south. In a day’s travel they reached Tollum’s land and the town was raised and smoldering and the fields of phlox burned. The smoke from the depleted inferno still polluted the air and it followed them down into Milner’s Promised Land where a fresh hell of flames awaited them. The courthouse, the town, families and homes were gone. Only the cratering and mounds of earth remained. Wade wept and furied at the destruction and the girl could not console him.

He took his rifle and marched back to Harar.

TO BE CONTINUED…