Authors: Mark Souza
The old man had grown on him, as had the giant, Nastasi. Neither had befriended him to further their ends, and now both would be gone far too soon. His heart ached. Was any cause worth this?
Chapter 39
Tuesday, 17 October
A
piercing scream awoke Moyer from his sleep. It was a terrified child. Robyn slept peacefully leaving Moyer to wonder if he’d actually heard anything or just dreamt it. Snarls and the sound of a scuffle filtered through the open window. Then another desperate scream raised the hairs along Moyer’s arms.
Moyer grabbed his pants and hopped toward the bedroom door as he hurried to put them on. Robyn barely stirred. His footfalls pattered softly down the stairs as he rushed for the back yard. Another cry hit his ears as he opened the door.
The sun hid below the horizon drenching the yard in a weak colorless light. Guttural growls drew Moyer along the side of the house like a beacon. Five goats huddled frozen in a corner of the pen blocking Moyer’s view. Beyond them, dogs tugged at a small female goat, one gripping the animal’s nose, two others clamped onto its hindquarters ripping hamstrings, stretching the animal off the ground. A fourth dog jerked at the goat’s belly spilling the animal’s guts on the ground while the goat screamed.
The dogs rolled their eyes toward Moyer exposing their whites. Though they had detected him, Moyer was merely a side note. They still had work to do. A black dog drove its fangs into the goat’s throat and the screaming ceased.
Two dogs bared their teeth and stepped toward Moyer. He went rigid, unsure whether he should hold his ground or run, and too scared to manage either. It was the pack from the church. He was too late to save the goat, and now the dogs looked as if they wanted more. He eased back slowly along the wall. A hand grasped his shoulder. Moyer nearly jumped out of his skin. Armal Connors raised a rake and spread his arms.
“Ha!” he screamed.
The dogs flinched and then frantically ripped at the carcass, nervous and ready to run. Armal advanced and Moyer joined him. The two men screamed in unison as they moved toward the pen. The dogs waited as long as they dared, not wanting to give up their kill. They bounded over the enclosure with what they could carry and sprinted in a line for the hill behind the house and into the shelter of its woods.
Armal scanned the pen rubbing his forehead as if he could smooth out the worry lines.
“This is not good,” he said. He let himself in through the gate and crouched in the dirt next to the carcass. “We are down to only two milkers.”
The five remaining goats trained golden eyes on Armal, still distrustful. He lifted the dead animal. It draped limply over his arms like a stole. Outside the pen, Armal removed a knife from his pocket and deftly skinned out the carcass on the ground. He lifted the pelt and examined the holes in it. He shook his head in disgust. “We need to put a stop to this wickedness lest it swallow us up. Hard times are ahead, brother.”
He laid the skin over his shoulder and handed the carcass to Moyer. “Take it to the creek and wash it good. We’ll eat some tonight and smoke the rest.”
Moyer hoisted the dead goat across his shoulders the way he did sacks of seed when stacking them in the barn. As he rounded the house and started down the slope, he spotted Brother Nastasi standing at the intersection with the main road, staring up the hill at him. It halted Moyer for a moment. What was he doing up at this hour, and why was he here?
As he approached Nastasi the sun crested the horizon and the first rays struck Moyer’s back and shot his silhouette far out in front of him toward the giant. It occurred to Moyer as his shadow closed the distance to Nastasi, that he was the giant this time.
Nastasi greeted him with a distressed look. “It appears there has been trouble.”
“Wild dogs broke into the goat pen.”
“Do you mind if I walk with you?”
“I welcome your company.”
They headed along the path in silence. Moyer knew Nastasi had something to say, there was no other reason to be up so early. The giant slowed as the creek came into view and the rush of water filled their ears. He sighed heavily and his hot breath jetted out in white plumes into the frosty morning air.
“The Good Book says,
for I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock.
As I am departing today, never to return, I could think of no more appropriate passage.”
Moyer stopped. He was struck again with despair and the feeling that this wasn’t fair. He’d only been in Mannington a few weeks and despite that, the giant and the Judge were the best friends he’d ever known. And now he was about to lose them. And for what? A symbolic stand to show Perko and his regime were liars?
Everyone experiences tragedy; however it seemed to Moyer that he’d been burdened with more than his fair share. It pressed down on him like a weight, throwing him off balance, threatening to crush him. And just when he found his equilibrium again, fate rose up to knock him down once more.
Nastasi gazed at Moyer, his expression solemn. The despair and frustration must have been plain on Moyer’s face. “I was bred to die in conflict,” Nastasi said. The big man took the goat from Moyer’s shoulders and knelt in the long, wet grass of the stream bank. He cast his eyes down and wagged his head. “For a while, I thought I might have escaped my destiny here in this place, that I might live a quiet and simple life.”
Moyer felt the same way and held the same hope.
The giant continued, “But I can’t hide while the rest of the world falls into ruin. Something has to be done, and the time is now.”
“But –”
Nastasi waved Moyer off. “If we do nothing, they will find and destroy us. You know it’s true. I saw it in your eyes when we first talked of it.”
Moyer nodded. He knew Nastasi was right. He’d sensed Perko’s fear and the urgency in his desire to find and destroy Begat. Perko knew that hidden somewhere was an idea, a truth, that if ignored, would germinate and spread until it brought down all he had built. He would stop at nothing to root it out and render it to ash. One natural childbirth in the city, witnessed on the net, and his empire, all he’d worked for would be gone.
“I tell you this so I can warn you,” Nastasi said. “The seeds of oppression are scattered far and wide, even among the righteous. Even among those who dwell in this valley with us. I think it is the nature of man.
“There are those in Begat who believe we should live under the strictest interpretation of
The Bible
, that it is the only way to do His will. Though they are not evil people and desire only to do what they think is right, they aim to control what people can think, what they can say, and how they conduct themselves. To this end, they are no better than Perko, than the regime they’ve worked so hard to escape. They would do here what Perko has done everywhere else, only in the name of God. They don’t seem to understand that God gave man free will for a reason. Faith is a choice. It has no meaning if mandated.
“It is vital that there be reasoned leadership after I am gone, lest we repeat the mistakes of the past,” Nastasi said. “Can I count on your support?”
“But I am no leader,” Moyer replied. “No one here is interested in what I have to say.”
“Judge Hawthorne thinks otherwise and I have come to respect his opinion. He says you have psychic abilities that could prove invaluable.”
“But I’m not a believer,” Moyer said. He cast his eyes down, unable to meet the giant’s gaze.
Nastasi rested a hand on Moyer’s shoulder. “None of the twelve apostles started out believers either, and it was they who spread the Gospel throughout the world. Faith will come to you in its own time. And when others see your transformation, knowing where you started from, it will affirm that what they believe in is right. It will strengthen them. I have faith.
Nastasi’s expression shifted to concern. “I have watched your skills applied as you led your crew to bring fresh water into the homes of the valley. You are a talented man with a great deal of technical savvy. But I must advise you to limit how much you improve life here. There is a benefit to hardship. Families must work together to survive. The community must work together. If you improve too much, families no longer need the help of the community, and the community breaks down. Then what we have here will be no better than the city. There is such a thing as too much independence, too much self reliance. Can you see this?”
Moyer was at first stunned. He cast his eyes at his feet. After the initial sting he realized Nastasi was right. He hadn’t considered that there might be negative implications to his
improvements
. “I promise to be more careful in the future,” he said.
“Do you know who your allies here are?” the giant asked.
Moyer nodded.
“Stand with them. Keep the cause going. Spread the word and make the world see. And when the time comes, step forward and lead. We are the new disciples.” Nastasi stood, his eyes fixed on the dead goat. He sighed. “Sacrifices have to be made. This is the will of God.”
By the time Moyer returned to the house, Robyn was awake and getting dressed. She initially recoiled when she noticed the blood running down his shoulders and arms. “Are you hurt?” Moyer stripped out of his stained shirt and hurled it at the floor.
“Wild dogs got into the goat pen,” he said. He jerked open a dresser drawer, pulled out a fresh shirt and wrestled it on.
“What’s the matter?”
Moyer considered for a moment then shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk and wasn’t sure Robyn was ready to hear it. He started to leave and Robyn stepped into the doorway and blocked his way.
“Talk to me, Moyer. What’s going on?”
Moyer studied her face, the determined expression, the worry in her eyes, and the resentment at being excluded. Maybe it was time she became involved. Maybe it was time she knew the breadth of their new lives and the yoke they were expected to bear. “Brother Nastasi and the Judge are leaving today for CapitalCity to confront Viktor Perko and they aren’t coming back.”
Robyn’s face went slack. “That’s why Betsy has been crying. She knew.”
Moyer nodded. “They’re bent on proving that what is shown on the net is a lie. They plan to make an appearance in the city and will be killed for it.”
“You must stop them.”
Moyer wagged his head. “I’ve tried. I have spoken to both of them and it’s no use. Deep inside I know what they are doing is noble and right, but I can’t bear the thought of losing them. It isn’t fair.”
Robyn wrapped her arms around Moyer’s waist and pressed her cheek into his chest.
He said, “If this is the way their God works, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust Him.” Moyer’s breathing became ragged as he fought back his emotions. “I just spoke with Brother Nastasi down by the creek. He was so calm. He warned me of oppressive elements here in Mannington and was concerned about what would happen after his departure. He asked me to take on a leadership role here.”
Robyn pressed away. There was doubt in her eyes. He might have been hurt if he didn’t feel the same way. Leadership was not a quality he saw within himself.
“The Judge warned me once,” Moyer said. “He told me to read their
Bible
and take notice of what happens to their deliverers and messiahs.” He noticed the look of concern on Robyn’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m a long way from being either.”
Monday evening, residents of ManningtonValley collected on the train landing to see off Brothers Nastasi and Hawthorne. Children remained at the church under the watchful eyes of the valley’s teens. Most didn’t know the purpose of the trip, though some had guessed. Only the elders and Winfields had been told. Betsy Connors remained stoic as long as she could manage and then covered her face with her hands and quietly wept.
Nastasi stretched out his massive arms to gather the attention of the crowd. “Brother Hawthorne and I are about to embark on a revolt to free humankind from the lies and tyranny of the corporations. It is doubtful we will return. What we do now we do in the service of God. It is not enough that we in this valley merely survive; we must spread the cause of freedom and the word of God until it sweeps the globe like a cleansing fire. This is the word of God. Always remember, to not work in the service of God is to work in service of His enemies.”
Hawthorne stared into Moyer’s eyes, his face stern, mouth drawn into a tense line trying to convey a warning. Though Hawthorne agreed going into the city for this confrontation was the right thing to do, he did not condone the idea of open confrontation against such long odds. If Begat was perceived as a real threat to the corporations, those corporations would spare no expense to hunt them down and eradicate them. Annihilation would end their cause, and with it, any hope for change. He hoped Moyer knew this.
Hope relied on patience, on waiting for circumstances to align like a line of dominos, where only a small effort was needed to start a cascade, a chain reaction. Hawthorne hoped returning to the city might start the process; that his life would end with meaning in a brilliant supernova-like flash, rather than the slow dim to black of some unnamed star no one remembered. Part of him suspected Perko would withstand this initial assault, though it might serve to start aligning the dominos into a neat row for those that followed.
The gloaming in the West faded to a weak glow. Some cried when they heard the news. Some reacted by turning away wagging their heads as if they had been betrayed and didn’t understand. Most waited to shake Nastasi’s hand or hug him, offering support and messages of thanks for what he had done. Hawthorne’s hand they shook out of politeness, offering either a smile or a “God bless you.”
Moyer offered a hug, and Hawthorne leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Be careful. After we’re gone, you may have to be the voice of reason around here. Don’t let them act like lemmings. It won’t do any good. Keep them on track.”