Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (63 page)

“You worthless piece of shit. How dare you desecrate the
collar of our Lord!”

Fists rained down upon Steve until another voice cried out. The
tone cut through the others with an edge of purpose, of dynamic potential.

“The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.”

Steve said nothing.

“Young man, you have committed vile and blasphemous deeds. God
will weigh your soul on these matters. If you cooperate with me, I will send
advance warning to Him of your coming.”

Steve shook his head. The blood settling in his stomach made
him sick. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than to pass out.

“All men have fallen short of the glory of our God the
Father. Speak, son, and let his forgiving kindness accompany your soul to the
Gates of Heaven. Now, where did you find John the Revelator?”

“He found me. He thought I was one of his parishioners and
he aimed to save me.”

Steve waited, hopeful that his final play was one that
wouldn’t cost his life.

“Glory be to God! I believe Father John carries the word of
our Savior on his lips. We’ve come to call him John the Revelator. You will be
rewarded in the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“I’m not one of his parishioners and I fucking hate church.”
“There is no need to be so vulgar in the presence of Father!” said a man.

The butt end of a machine gun crashed into what was left of Steve’s
nose. Streaks of color blinded him. His neck snapped back and darkness moved in
from the outer edges of his vision.

“Wait. He must not pass before Last Rites.”

The fury of the priest frightened the hardened soldier, and
he backed away from Steve.

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty,

the Creator of heaven and earth,

and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:

Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died, and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day He arose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,

whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and life everlasting.

Amen.”

Steve struggled against the encroaching darkness as the
words rang out in his ears. Hands grabbed his hair and shook him. They did not
want him to pass until they finished.

“
Pater noster, qui es in caelis:

sanctificetur Nomen Tuum;

adveniat Regnum Tuum;

fiat voluntas Tua,

sicut in caelo, et in terra.

Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie;

et dimitte nobis debita nostra,

Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus
nostris;

et ne nos inducas in tentationem;

sed libera nos a Malo
.”

“What the fuck?” Steve
asked through a shattered mouth and lacerated tongue.

“The Rites are complete. Show him the Glory of
our God, almighty Father, forever and ever.”

Two soldiers grabbed the mechanic by the arms
and lifted him up. They cut the ropes that bound his legs and walked him up a
flight of steps, his bare feet scraping against the coarse sandstone. He
shivered in the open courtyard as stars flickered cold light on the bare trees.
A man approached Steve and placed a crown of thorns on his
head. The soldiers tied Steve to the wooden beams and
raised the cross high in the air.

“May our Lord have mercy on your soul and
promise you everlasting life.”

Chapter
10

“Has John the Revelator arisen yet?” asked Father.

“No, your holiness He is still recovering from the ordeal. The
Sisters are tending to him and offering prayers to God. How do you know it is
truly Him?” the priest asked.

Father held a grainy photograph up and tapped it with his
finger.

“He was found on the east side of Cleveland. Look at the
photograph. He is the one.”

The priest believed the photograph could have been any
number of men but he knew better than to question authority.

“What is the status of the diocese?” Father demanded.

The priest hesitated and then motioned for Father to sit at
a polished round table. A tablet PC connected to a digital projector flashed to
life on the bare, white walls. The priest navigated through folders on the hard
drive until he found a collection of satellite photographs.

“Here you can see the areas secured under the Holy Covenant,
Father.”

The subservient priest used the cursor to draw red circles
around Cleveland Heights, South Euclid, Lyndhurst, Shaker Heights, and a
handful of other communities on Cleveland’s east side.

“The areas in blue are still in the process of going through
the First Cleansing.”

He used the cursor to point out Parma, Parma Heights,
Lakewood, and Ohio City, all on Cleveland’s west side.

“Has there been any further communication from the Vatican?”
asked Father.

“No sir, we have received nothing since the transmission of
the Holy Covenant sent one week ago. There has been spotty communication from
the diocese of the city of Pittsburgh and Buffalo, but that is the extent of
our current network.”

“It is in the Lord’s hands.”

“Yes, Father. It is in His hands.”

Father stood and adjusted the white collar underneath his
black shirt. He’d considered wearing his Sunday vestments, but did not want to
soil them on the sins of the fallen.

“I would like to return to the church.”

“Yes Father, I will arrange that immediately.”

The priest left Father alone in the conference room while he
summoned a driver and vehicle. Father stared at the screen, fascinated by the
number of pixels comprising the images. He let his vision blur and squinted his
eyes. The number of crosses that arose from the eagle-eye view of the city
reminded him of God’s will and his duties as a servant. He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a fine cigar. He removed the plastic wrap. It crinkled as
the smell of fresh tobacco filled his nostrils. Reaching back into the same
pocket, Father grabbed a stainless-steel, military-issue lighter. A piercing,
blue flame sent threads of sweet smoke into the air as the nicotine pulsed
through his veins like the glory of God. The Lord’s mortal representatives had
always indulged and he considered tobacco to be a more minor one.

“Father, the commander is here, along with a driver and
security detail. They are waiting for you on the curb.”

“Thank you, my son” he replied.

The bluish haze of the smoke lingered and danced with the
dust mites in the tired conference room. The worn carpet slid underneath his
polished, black shoes.

“Please alert me of any progress on the Holy Covenant or of
any communication with the Vatican.”

“Absolutely, Father.”

“May God be with you.”

“And with you.”

Father followed the commander through the dark hallways of
the hotel and into the main lobby. The sound of generators echoed off the stone
pillars, casting greasy diesel exhaust throughout the room. The fountains of
water normally filled with stringent chemicals lay still in pools of
undisturbed silence.

The commander stepped through the shattered glass door of
the Cleveland Marriott East and stood next to a Humvee parked underneath the
canopy, as lumpy balls of white hail ricocheted off the blackened asphalt
parking lot. An early November snow loomed high above Lake Erie in threatening
gray clouds. The commander held the door open for Father, keeping his machine
gun raised and his senses alert. A number of support snipers encircled the vehicle.
The commander refused to let Satan’s disciples steal the lifeblood of Father. He
nodded to the driver while sliding into the front seat, as Father moved into
the backseat, still tugging on the sweet cigar.

“Father, are we headed to the church?”

“Yes, but take your time. I would like to get a visual
assessment on the results of the First Cleansing.”

“Yes sir,” replied the commander.

The Humvee pulled out of a parking lot littered with
abandoned cars. The Holy Covenant had identified many of the guests in the
hotel as Infidels, and the First Cleansing eliminated them. Records showed that
many succumbed to the Dark Lord’s powers by drinking alcohol from the mini bar
– or worst yet, ordering obscene movies in their room. And so their scattered
cars would wait in vain to get the owners home to places like Michigan,
Indiana, or Pennsylvania. Father noted the various license plates, and chuckled
to himself, realizing how unnecessary those arbitrary divisions had become. The
Warriors of Christ, created by the Holy Covenant, aimed to exterminate the
Infidels. Those were the only divisions necessary now.

The Humvee paused, as the commander surveyed the ramp to
route 271. Although the Infidels had not organized a planned resistance, the
commander knew war well enough to know this would happen sooner or later. He
would not be the first victim of a road-side bomb. He motioned for the driver
to continue, and the Humvee maneuvered around several disabled vehicles on the
highway, as well as the bloodied limbs of those who died inside.

As the vehicle’s wheels vibrated on the wet pavement and
began to pick up speed, Father’s head lolled to one side. Since the First
Cleansing began, he’d had little time for sleep. He planned to rest in Heaven,
at God’s right hand. They continued driving northbound, passing an occasional
army truck going in the other direction.

“Father, may I ask you a question?”

Father enjoyed nothing as much as imparting wisdom to the
flock.

“Why, of course, my son. I will speak with God’s tongue.”

“What is the next phase of the Holy Covenant?”

“That is for Him to decide. The Vatican has instructed us to
find John the Revelator, and when they share news of the next phase, we will do
His will. John has been foretold to lead us to eternal peace.”

The Humvee left the highway and picked up East Eighth
Street. Father used the back of his hand to wipe the condensation from the
windows. The damp odor of combat boots did not mix well with his cigar, and he
tossed what was left of it out the window, bringing a surge of fresh, cold air
that cleared his head. All along East Eighth, Father saw The Sign painted on
houses, small businesses, and other structures. The army had cleared most human
remains, but the occasional dark-red splatter could be seen on doors and
sidewalks.

They turned north on East Eighth and started climbing the
hill toward St. Michael’s. The archangel sat atop the highest steeple, guarding
parishioners from Satan’s wrath. A convoy of Humvees lined up on the street
outside the old church. Father never tired from the splendid intricacies of the
structure. Bright-yellow brick, sullied by years of nearby heavy manufacturing,
still managed to shine in the muted daylight. Huge wrought-iron fences wrapped
around the building, complete with a massive gate at the entrance to the
church. The Virgin Mary, fixed in alabaster glory, spread her arms over the
tiny garden on the side as she blessed the children at her feet. As if on cue, the
bells rang out, cutting through the swirling hail and snow that became more
intense as the lake-effect storm slid further south off Lake Erie.

The commander opened the door, shaking Father from his
contemplation. Nodding his appreciation, Father exited the vehicle and climbed
the five steps into the main vestibule of St. Michael’s parish. Stained, wooden
doors shut behind him, silencing the howls of the ragged wind. A flurry of
activity caught Father’s eye as priests milled about the church. Some tended to
candles, keeping the votive lit for the souls of the departed. Others dusted
the pews and polished the wood floors. Near the tabernacle, one priest repaired
a golden hinge on the door of the Holy Sacrament. Lingering remnants of the
incense teased Father as he wiped his nose. Candles lit the interior of the
church, and Father felt the cold chill of the stone walls. Soldiers labored to
tie the electrical system into a platoon of generators. Until they did so, the
church would remain in darkness, like the rest of the city.

“Father, it is good to see you back in your parish.”

“Thank you, my son. How are you serving God?”

“My ears are open to his calling, and my heart is open to
his love.”

Father smiled at the adolescent. He could not remember his
name, but he did remember that the boy attended church with his mother every
week. Father saw the other members of the family, including their father, only
on special occasions.

Christmas-Easter Catholics
, thought Father.

“Where is the rest of your family? Has God called them to
serve the Holy Covenant?”

A cloud spread across the young man’s face.

“I alone serve Him. The others were not willing to stand
against the Infidels and therefore were sent to Him during the First
Cleansing.”

Father raised his eyebrows and let a smile cross his face.

“His love above all else.”

“Yes Father, His love for eternity.”

Father placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked deep
into his eyes. He turned and walked toward the back of the church, leaving the
boy to continue his chores.

The door on the wall behind the altar swung inward to reveal a room . Eight priests from Cleveland’s eastside parishes engaged in animated
conversation, standing over a map spread out on a table. The discussion came to
a halt when Father stepped into the room.