Authors: Edwin Page
‘Ladies and
gentlemen, boys and girls,’ called Dodge as he stood behind the microphone on
the float. ‘Introducing the dream we all dream, the cure we all prayed for.
He’s the Voice of God. We know him, we love him, it’s the one and only Reverend
Peterson.’
He looked back at me as I waited in the darkness between the float and
the hedge, those that had come up from Yonkers cheering. I nodded to Jacqui as
she sat in the cab to my right, watching me over her shoulder.
She turned away and flicked on the stereo and the banks of disco lights
that rested on top of the speakers, which had been angled towards the crowd,
the generators chugging behind their concealment.
Electronic clapping sounds issued from the speakers. A simple piano riff
started.
‘
We have, the chance to turn the pages over
,’ sang John Farnham as
I slowly rose up the makeshift steps that had been constructed with crates,
Dodge clapping and whooping his encouragement to the crowd.
‘
We can write what we wanna write, we gotta make ends meet before we
get much older
.’
I walked over to the mic and came to a stop before it, waving at the mass
of people gathered before me as the song blared from the speakers, finding my
nerves melting away now that the time had come. Dodge stepped aside, continuing
to clap.
‘
We’re all someone’s daughter, we’re all someone’s son, how long can
we look at each other, down the barrel of a gun
?’
I grasped the microphone stand. ‘You’re the voice, try and understand it,
make a noise and make it clear, ohhh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-oh, woh oh oh-oh
oh-oh-oh-aoh,’ I roared.
‘We’re not gonna sit in silence, we’re not gonna live with fear, ohhh oh
oh-oh oh-oh-oh-oh, woh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-aoh.’ I raised my hands in the air and
brought them together in time with the beat as the song continued
Those from Yonkers followed suit, joining in with gusto as those from Albany
looked around in bemusement, unsure what was happening and how to react, the
music and sight of a preacher on the stage before them creating confusion. A
few began to join in, going with the flow of events as the disco lights flashed
brightly in the night above their heads.
‘You’re the voice, try and understand it, make a noise and make it clear,
ohhh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-oh, woh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-aoh,’ I sang, joining in with
the chorus when it came around again. ‘We’re not gonna sit in silence, we’re
not gonna live with fear, ohhh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-oh, woh oh oh-oh oh-oh-oh-aoh.’
I clapped above my head again and most of the crowd echoing my actions
this time around, those from the nearby city getting into the swing of the
occasion and letting loose after three days of living in isolation and fear.
The relief could be seen in their faces. They were happy to feel part of a
community, to feel safe and like they weren’t going to have to get through this
alone. Even the elderly were joining in, though it was obvious that many people
in the audience were feeling weak from the amount of effort they were having to
put into their actions.
I pulled the microphone from its stand. ‘You’re the voice try and
understand it, make a noise and make it clear.’
I held it out to the audience.
‘OHHH OH OH-OH OH-OH-OH-OH, WOH OH OH-OH OH-OH-OH-AOH!’ they hollered at
the top of their voices.
‘We’re not gonna sit in silence, we’re not gonna live with fear.’
‘OHHH OH OH-OH OH-OH-OH-OH, WOH OH OH-OH OH-OH-OH-AOH!’
I smiled and was filled with the buzz that I used to feel on stage in the
80s. Turning to Jacqui, who was peering out of the rear window of the cab
between the speakers, I gave a nod. She faded the music and I looked out across
the expectant faces.
‘Welcome and may God bless you all,’ I greeted. ‘I am Reverend Peterson
and the Lord has seen fit to guide me here to you. There’s a pale horse riding
across this world, but I’m here to offer God’s grace so that you avoid the
stamp of its hooves, that you survive to give testament to His glory in all
that you do.
‘You were promised safety and we’re going somewhere safe. We’re on our
way to Montreal. They weren’t hit by a bomb and you’re all welcome to join us.’
‘What about the cure?’ called a middle-aged man with a receding hairline
to the front.
‘Would all of you that are feeling no ill effects please raise your
hands?’ I asked.
There were a few glances as a thin scattering of hands rose into the air,
only around thirty in all.
‘Could you please make your way to the school bus on the right?’
‘Why?’ asked a large woman with blonde curls and large gold hoops in her
ears.
‘It’s so that we don’t waste the cure on those who don’t need it,’ I said
with a disarming smile.’
‘But we might get ill.’
‘And if you do, then you’ll be given the cure too.’
There was a moment of hesitation and then those that had held up their
hands began to make their way through the crowd towards the bus where Shane and
the Changs waited. I shared a knowing look across the heads of those gathered
between the float and the semi-circle of buses, Shane giving an almost
imperceptible nod.
‘You will all soon testify to the glory of God. He showed me the light,
gave me the inspiration which has led to the cure,’ I stated as the pure bloods
filed onto the bus.
‘To all those who have travelled with me from Yonkers, you will be happy
to hear that we are almost halfway to our destination.
‘Tomorrow we will travel north to Plattsburgh and on to Montreal.’
There was a weak round of applause.
‘What about the cure?’ the man asked again, his tone impatient.
‘Before the cure, I want to dedicate another song to those from Yonkers.’
‘Fuck the song,’ he said, stepping up to the edge of the float. ‘We just
want the cure.’
There were a few nods of agreement.
I looked to Dodge meaningfully as he stood to my right. He pulled one of
the stun guns I’d liberated from the gun store from the back of his jeans and
aimed it at the man.
There was a crackle of electricity as he fired and it attached itself to
the man’s neck and side. His teeth gritted and his body twitched violently
before his eyes rolled back and he fell to the flattened corn unconscious.
‘What the heck did you do that for?’ asked a young women standing near
the man’s prone form, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.
‘Law and order,’ I replied as Dodge jumped down to detach the tazer.
‘Without it everything falls apart. Without it there is anarchy.’
‘So you’re the law now?’
I shook my head. ‘God is the law and I am the Voice of God.’
She stared up at me, but didn’t voice anymore protests. Dodge climbed
back up, placing the spent tazer by the speakers as I noticed another tucked
into the back of his belt.
‘As I was saying, the next song goes out to all those from Yonkers.’
There was a small cheer from those that had travelled north as I looked
to Jacqui and she pressed play. The slow build up of a prolonged note came from
the speakers, a few chimes sounded followed by computerised noises.
‘
Once upon a time, not so long ago
,’ introduced a voice.
‘
Tommy used to work on the docks, union’s been on strike, he’s down on
his luck, it’s tough, so tough
.
‘
Gina works the diner all day, working for her man, she brings home
her pay for love, mmm for love
.’
I readied the microphone and began to sing along. ‘She says, “we gottta
hold on to what we got, it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not, we
got each other and that’s a lot for love, we’ll give it a shot.’
I held it out to the crowd, continuing to sing. ‘Oooh, we’re halfway there,
oh-oh, livin’ on a prayer, take my hand, we’ll make it I swear, oh-oh, livin’
on a prayer.’ Many of those present sung out with me, raising their hands and
beginning to nod to the beat or jumping up and down, the confrontation before
the stage soon forgotten.
The second verse began and I let Jon Bon Jovi sing solo as I rocked on
stage, enjoying the moment, savouring the feeling of performing again,
remembering just how much I’d loved it back in the day.
‘Oooh, we’re halfway there, oh-oh, livin’ on a prayer. Take my hand,
we’ll make it I swear, oh-oh, livin’ on a prayer,’ everyone sang.
A guitar solo kicked in and I played an air guitar on stage, a look of
intense concentration on my face as I strummed the imaginary instrument and
bounced around the float, which rocked slightly beneath me.
The chorus came round again and everyone sang. I held the microphone out
to them, putting my free hand behind my ear. They shouted louder, many people
head-banging as the music blasted out across the field, the multicoloured lights
flashing in time.
I noted Shane and the Changs leading the bound and gagged pure bloods
along the hedgerow over to the right of the crowd, their presence going
unnoticed as the crowd rocked along with the last of the song. The darkness in
the lea of the trees and bushes helped to conceal their passage as they made
their way around to the float, passing around the cab and to the back, where Duncan
waited in readiness to be my example of the blood’s curative effects.
The Bon Jovi hit came to an end and I took a breath. ‘We’re halfway
there, people,’ I said with a smile, ‘and our prayers are about to be
answered.’
Shane ushered the first eight people onto the stage. As they appeared
from behind me a few gasps arose from those who had come from Albany.
‘Sarah!’ exclaimed a man in his twenties, hair slicked back, wearing
jeans and a denim jacket with a white shirt beneath.
He pushed his way through the crowd. ‘What the hell is this?’ he asked
angrily as he reached the front. ‘What the fuck are you doing to my sister?’
I nodded to Dodge. He drew the second tazer from his belt as the young
man began to climb onto the float. The electrical discharge sounded and the
intruder tumbled back with teeth gritted and muscles jumping, thudding onto the
ground and falling still a moment later.
‘What the hell is going on?’ asked the young woman with the ponytail.
‘This is the cure,’ I stated as Dodge helped Shane line the captives up
along the front of the stage, forcing them onto their knees.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ asked the woman with the hoop
earrings.
‘Trust the Reverend,’ called Mark from within the crowd. ‘Just ask any of
us that came up from Yonkers, we’ll tell you what he says is true.’
‘You must drink the blood of those unaffected,’ I stated, most of those
kneeling on the float turning to me fearfully. ‘The is the new Communion that
God has shown me. We drank the blood of Christ to purify our souls, now we
drink their blood to purify our bodies.’
‘You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’,’ shouted a youth from the centre of
the crowd, a Yankees cap on his head and the shadow of stubble upon his sickly
face.
I shook my head. ‘No. This is God’s Will.’
‘This is disgusting,’ said the woman with the ponytail.
‘It works,’ said Cheryl.
‘She’s right,’ said Mark. ‘It takes away your aches and pains.’
‘I knew there’d be doubters among you, knew there’d be some with a lack
of faith, and that’s why I have someone here who’ll be an example to you all,
will show you the glory of God’s plan.’ I looked over my shoulder, knowing that
there was little time to waste, that there were far too many from the city to
put down if they tried to rush the float.
‘Duncan, please join me up here,’ I said after reattaching the microphone
to the stand.
He hesitated and then was helped up the crate steps by David. Reaching
the top, he began to walk across the stage with his arms out before him.
‘Over here,’ I stated as he began to veer to the left.
He followed the sound of my voice until his reaching fingers came into
contact with my upper arm. ‘I’m not sure about this,’ he whispered, leaning in
close. ‘I didn’t expect to be drinking someone’s blood.’
‘This man,’ I began, ‘was blinded by the divine light, but the Lord has
seen fit to grant him inner sight, inner clarity. He knows this is God’s
desire, that this is the new Holy Communion.’
A small knot of people pushed through the crowd led by a large bald man
in a leather jacket. Despite his muscular build, he was staggering a little, his
eyes raw and surrounded by darkness that told of his sickness.
‘We won’t let you do this,’ he stated as they drew to a stop ten yards
from the float.
‘You can’t stop me. I’ve God as my protector. He will not allow it.’
‘We can and we…’ He bent over and vomited.
I shook my head. ‘Is this what you want for yourselves?’ I asked,
pointing at him as he retched. ‘Is this the end you all want to suffer
through?’ I scanned the crowd, with a firm gaze.
‘God offers you deliverance from your suffering and you reject it.’ I
shook my head. ‘You turn your backs on Him in your last days, just as you had
turned your backs on him in your lives before judgement was made upon the
world.’
‘Show us,’ called a man to the left, his hawkish face tight with the
outward signs of his aching head and nausea.
A few others who had come from the city nodded.
I smiled inwardly and pulled the carving knife from my vestments, quickly
moving to the woman kneeling to my far left who was evidently called Sarah. Duncan
trailed behind, his hand upon my shoulder. Stepping forward from the edge of
the crowd, Clive picked up the bucket that had been placed in readiness by the
float’s rear wheels, the gentle splash of the morphine I’d placed inside rising
as he readied himself before the woman, but the sound thankfully lost on him in
the heat of the moment.
I took hold of the woman’s long sandy hair and pushed her forward so that
she leant out over the side of the vehicle. ‘This is God’s Will,’ I stated
again before drawing the knife across her throat.