The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (38 page)

“Listen, Barnstable. You are beginning to
worry me. I’m afraid I didn’t get to you in time. Forget democracy!
You work for International Credit Co. The public will be fine. Just
shake hands and smile for the camera.”

“Should we give Updike an ultimatum?”
Barnstable was thinking; that gave the Prime a little more
confidence.

“Just tell him we do not negotiate with
terrorists.” He crossed to the office window that overlooked the
oceanfront. Cloud and heavy mist covered the distant Sunken City.
“We have to draw the line.”

“Very well, sir.” The mayor paused. “I would
appreciate updates as the situation progresses.”

The Prime’s mind went blank with rage. His
Demon organ uncurled and pushed against the inside of his trousers.
Barnstable
?
Really
? He shook his head in silent
communion with the damned member.
First time for
everything
…

The mayor grew uncomfortable with the
silence. “Thank you, Prime. I will report to you after I contact
Updike.”

The Prime dropped the receiver into its
cradle. All this talk of war and power agreed with his second
penis. He wanted a girl child—badly…but remembered his Ally’s
caution. The girl children did not respond well to his intentions,
and they rarely survived—and there was the chance that one of them
was the
First-mother
. He needed the girl children for the
new age that would come. After the Change, he planned to repopulate
the planet in his own image and he’d already been a glutton with
the girls at the Orphanage.

Then he thought of the
First-mother
.
If he had her—if he had her! The sending had brought some girls in
that matched the Ally’s description…one even had a guardian. The
Prime’s special servants would soon divine the truth.

After coming to full power he no longer felt
it necessary to keep his game face when it came to the forever
children. For years he’d allowed social workers and Children’s Aid
representatives access and limited participation in his Orphanage’s
programs. But his desires caused him indiscretions and the use of
Powers required certain unexplainable disappearances that
undermined the ruse. So the participation of interested parties was
reduced and eventually stopped. Any legal argument was tied up in
court for decades and if anyone pushed too hard, he was likely to
disappear or suffer some violent end in the unpredictable World of
Change: either at the hands of the Prime’s agents outright—charges
of sexual interference on a child were easy to arrange, or the
Prime’s other Powers could come to bear and the children’s advocate
would be devoured by a Demon.

The thought of enjoying the First-mother
caused his Demon organ to grow rigid with violence. He’d have to
make do with a secretary. Or better, he’d interview someone from
the temp pool of pre-Change twenty-something women—someone with
youthful looks—yes…

As he dug into his desk for the personnel
file the Prime enjoyed the waves of pleasure rippling through his
augmented body. He would answer Updike’s challenge. Apocalypse was
being invoked and it would go badly for anyone who hesitated. He
smiled at the notion of burning thousands of walking corpses. Then
he found the personnel file and opened it. A resume fell out. Gods
had to be willing to make sacrifices too.

52 – Battle Cry

Updike returned from the central building.
He’d stepped in to speak with Oliver Purdue before taking a
forwarded call. He had spoken on the phone. It took the army an
hour or more to gather its ranks and arrange itself in the wide
valley. Their numbers weighed on Stoneworthy’s mind. They were
dead, but he could see life in their eyes, excitement as Updike
approached the center of the stage. The rain had slowed to a
drizzle.

“Let us pray,” Updike said over the
microphone before taking it from the stand and dropping to his
knee. Stoneworthy knelt by him. Thousands of dead did the same. A
great rustling of dried and brittle bodies filled the air with
sound as the army knelt in supplication—echoed by the rattle and
clink of armament multiplied many times. It came in a noisy tide of
sound. Those desiccated to inflexibility that could not kneel,
bowed their heads, or were helped to their knees by their dead
brethren. “Our Father Who art in Heaven…” Updike began, the
speakers echoed.

And Stoneworthy felt his thoughts fly
outward, whisking before him to join the collective soul of the
army. There was a great silence, overshadowed slightly by the
fibrous clicking actions of dead lips mouthing words of prayer.
Stoneworthy felt the first surge of power. Somewhere deep inside
his soul he understood that the multitude before him looked to
Updike and to him for guidance. It was intoxicating.

As each of Updike’s words was echoed,
Stoneworthy felt his own chest expand with the collected breath of
their followers. He understood the forlorn reality of the dead, and
yet, even in that finality, he did not need rest. The Reverend did
not need it, as the others did not, for there could be no rest
until righteousness had won out. This final injustice would be
resisted, and recompense delivered. But how he craved it. He could
feel the unwelcome deadness of his body, could feel the stiffening
of his joints and flesh. Soon, he hoped, the end.

He was as dead as humanity’s aspirations—as
wanting of life as its best intentions. Humanity had used death as
the great escape for far too long. God took that away from man so
he could understand there is no rest in death. Stoneworthy
whispered: “Atonement.”

“Amen!” Updike breathed into the microphone
and stood. The time of reckoning had come. There followed a rising
tide of sound as the gathering climbed to its feet. Updike allowed
them a moment to collect themselves. And then he began to
speak:

“Brothers and sisters, friends, Apocalypse
approaches. Come get with me. A New World is here unfolding, and
the light that causes this blossoming comes from the blazing
righteousness in your souls. Come get with me. Before this flower
can come full bloom, there has been a winter. And this winter has
been the World of Change. You have been with me.” In the crowd,
Stoneworthy heard spirited “
Amen’s
” rise up. Updike seemed
to grow in size upon the stage.

“You have walked through the valley of the
shadow of death like no others in human history. Come get with me.
You walk past the crumbling truths of the Old World: Profit! Greed!
Idolatry! Lust! Come get with me. Yet we have not stopped the sins
and so have sinned. You have been with me.” He raised his arms, and
the gathering groaned.

“And because we are sinners, we are punished.
God knows our hearts. He has watched us. He has seen the righteous
struggle. Seen the martyrs die. But He has stayed His mighty hand.
He watches us tempted by the Devil, sees us fall—and yet He waits.
He waits in grace and patience. He waits because He loves us. Come
get with me!”

The Army of the Dead roared its approval.
“
Hallelujah’s
” rang across the valley. Updike waited a
moment, looked at Stoneworthy and made a sign of encouragement
before continuing.

“The Lord chased us from the Garden of Eden,
and gave us this world to call our own. For generations we listened
to the words of God handed down to us through Moses. When we
wandered in the wilderness, God led us. The Lord did not abandon
us. And how have we shown our gratitude? Instead of working hard
for our souls we worked hard for gold. We abandoned Him!” Updike
paused scowling. His eyes burned.

“Still, the Lord was patient.” The preacher
raised his hands, fingers splayed. “He offered us ten Commandments
out of love to protect us from ourselves and from evil. Simple
rules, like any parent would give his child. Come get with me. And
yet we did not follow the ten. Not nine, or six or four… And as we
strayed from our Father, as we broke each commandment, we wandered
ever closer to the Devil. Come get with me.” The gathering shouted
its encouragement.

“‘Do not do these ten things!’ is all He
asked. Yet, we did not obey. And then, as an ever-loving father
might, he did not punish us. Instead he gave us His only son to
teach us, hoping that we could learn from His example. We listened
to the words of Jesus, and we watched His miracles. And we accepted
His gifts. And how did we repay Him? How did we show our love?”
Stoneworthy heard weeping in the audience, interspersed with sad
‘Hallelujahs.’

“We nailed His son to a cross. Come get with
me!” Updike’s voice was husky; his eyes flowed tears. Silence
gripped the shallow valley. “Even then, the dear Lord showed us the
depth of His love for instead of shedding our blood He shed His
only son’s.”

Moans echoed as Updike took a pitcher from a
small wooden table, and poured himself a drink of water. He took
another, as he sadly watched the waiting crowd. Head lowered, he
continued:

“He gave us His Son, and we gave nothing in
return. How He kept His patience I do not know. Humanity perverted
every gift that the Lord our God gave us. ‘
Freedom
!’ some
said. ‘It was our
Democratic right
.’” Updike looked sternly
through the crowd. “Democratic right to disobey our Father in
Heaven? Democratic right to embrace the Devil?” Updike leaned into
the microphone. “Well the Lord has lost His patience. Come get with
me! Judgment Day is here!”

The gathering roared ‘
Amen
.’

Updike wrapped his arms over his chest.
“Judgment Day is upon us, and the Lord’s Wrath leaps up like a
great Lion! His Wrath and Judgment comes upon us now as
Apocalypse!” Some yelled in the crowd, others cried for mercy.

“Who shall stand by our God? Come get with
Him! We shall not turn from Him again. We shall pick up the
righteous sword of our Faith, and stand with the Lion as He roars?
We must throw down the idols. The moneylenders have been Kings of
the Earth too long. They are Kings set there by the Prince of
Darkness. It will stop!”

The gathering was growing anxious.
Stoneworthy could hear harsh and bitter words floating toward the
stage. Weapons clashed in anticipation. Updike let it build and
build, until the minister could feel the anguished fear wash over
him.

“Righteousness!” they cried,
“Redemption!”

Updike gazed out over this growing power for
another minute then raised his hands for silence. It came slowly.
He continued:

“Even now, you ask yourself. Why me?” He
scanned the army, his head turning slowly from east to west. “Why
am I called to aid the Lord while others rest? Well I shall tell
you. The Lord chose you to die, and He chose you to rise up, so
come get with Him!” Updike’s smile stretched wide.

“Why are you allowed to walk the World of
Change when so many departed to join the Lord in Heaven? He needs
an army. He needs an army that understands its mission. Your deaths
are not in vain! Come get with Him. You were not called from your
sleep to fight a war of human folly—you fight for God’s Apocalypse!
The Lord wants the world to end, and by God it shall end! The final
Change begins so come get with it!” There was a clashing roar, and
it took a few minutes for the gathering to quiet. Updike held his
arms overhead and nodded for calm.

“I spoke to you of a blossoming. Such an
unfolding flower awaits in the seed of our purpose. You are the
farmers of the New World who will bury that seed that it should
grow. But such a bountiful crop that awaits us can only grow when
we turn over the soil of the old. We have this chance to make the
world an Eden again. But we must fight for it! We must struggle. We
must sacrifice. We must raze the cities, the mansions of the
moneylenders and the Idolaters. We must break the churches that
worship the Gods of Science and Gold. We must turn over this soil.
We must prepare the ground for the Garden! Come get with Me!”

The soldiers roared as Updike bellowed.
Stoneworthy had never felt such concentrated feeling—it ran
electric over his nerves. He did not know if it was his new dead
status, or whether even in death, human emotion had the ability to
move and join people. Was not human emotion a conduit for God’s
love? He found himself on his feet wildly clapping his numb hands.
Oliver Purdue threw an arm around his shoulder and whispered:

“Brother Stoneworthy! We shall till a new
garden.” They embraced, Stoneworthy entranced by the tactile nature
of the action. He felt alive—vibrant!

“But where do we take this great army!”
Stoneworthy asked.

“To meet the others, and on to Apocalypse.”
Purdue smiled.

“Others?” The minister’s eyes fixed on
Purdue’s.

“Even now, two armies of the dead move toward
The City: one from the south with the farthest to travel and
another from the southwest.” Joy sparkled in Purdue’s eyes. “We
will turn the City’s soil!”

Fear leapt across Stoneworthy’s mind. He knew
many good people within the City, but he corrected himself. That
had been in life, and he was dead. His life had a meaning, but he
had to follow the course that his death had taken—a road to Heaven
on Earth! His actions could save them all from walking death.
Purdue looked toward Updike.

“I must speak now!” he said, and moved to the
stage. The preacher gave him a warm embrace. With Updike’s big
hands on his shoulders he began:

“Go now!” Purdue’s voice rang over the
speakers. “Go my brothers and sisters and prepare. We have spent
years training for this moment, and now the Lord has asked us to
move. Go now, and pray. Remove all doubt from your hearts for we
take up the banner of the Lord at dawn! All Hail His
Apocalypse!”

A roar rang up from the crowd that made
Stoneworthy think of lions. The dead produced the sound of life
with their passion. So great was the storm of feeling that crashed
against him, Stoneworthy was moved to tears. His mind was keen and
fresh—newborn in a world that was about to die. Something dark
passed by the depths of his consciousness that drew his lips down
momentarily. Dismissing his hesitation, Stoneworthy drew Updike’s
full cheek close to his and kissed it. He left the stage with the
preacher and Purdue arm in arm, wondering at the new garden that
awaited them on the morrow.