Under a Broken Sun (31 page)

They tied my wrists up to the shower head.  There was no running water, so they splashed buckets of cold, murky river water on my back and front.  Then came the brushes, rubber gloves, disinfectant soap.  Over every part of my body.  Most of them scrubbed hard.  I noticed one of them spent a little too much time around my balls. 

My body was raw from the ordeal, and tired from fighting against it.  One the soldiers forced my arms through a red tunic.  The water cooled me off in the heat of the midday but it didn’t take long for that to change.  Hill wanted his people to live normal hours.  Pretend like nothing happened.   Inside this building, a courthouse, or whatever, it had to be a hundred degrees.

Reynolds led me to Reverend Hill’s office and knocked on the door.  “Come in,” came the voice from inside.  The door creaked open.  Hill stood with his back to me, one hand behind his back, the other fanning himself.  “Whoo.  Hot one today, eh, Adam?”

He turned and saw me standing in the door.  “Please, come in and sit down.  Thank you, Colonel Reynolds, we’ll be fine from here.”

Reynolds nodded and left us alone, closing the door.  I went to a heavy leather chair in front of the desk and sat down.  Hill turned and shot out his arms from under his flowing white garb as he sat. 

He slid my cross towards me.  “Can’t say I approve of this, but I don’t see any harm.  Rather grotesque depiction of our Lord’s crucifixion, but I must say it suits you.  Put it on.  Wear it proudly.  It will help them identify you.  Like a scarlet letter.”

I put the cross over my head and check the bottom – still there. 

He leaned back. “Your friends are dead,” he said, answering my unasked question.

But it was bullshit.  Reynolds said Marilyn was with him.  The others were safe.  I smirked.

“I know what Colonel Reynolds told you, but he lied.  Wanted to keep you calm.  But they are dead.  They refused their reeducation, refused to accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.  They therefore sided with you.  And our mission here is to eliminate all people who side with Satan.”

That got me.  “I am not any fucking devil,” I said. 

“No.  I realize that.  Not in the way you think of the devil.”  He popped a mint into his mouth, and sipped from a glass of water.  I could see a distorted smile behind the glass. 

“Then why am I threat?”

“Because you and your kind represent the old way.  The way of separation.  We represent unity.  Peace.  Your way of ‘critical thinking’ and ‘scientific method’ has lasted for many millennia, but has brought nothing but war and hatred.  Now it’s our turn to show you how it’s done.  God had given us our guide two-thousand years ago.  Now he has given us the opportunity to put that to work.  If we leave our new world to you, to your ‘scientific methods’, we’d end up in the same mess we were in before God wiped it out.  We will present the world with unity – they will join us or die.  And tomorrow morning, you will represent that choice.  The question is – what will you choose?”

I looked at him for a long time, then leaned forward to the desk.  "Have you ever considered," I asked, "the thought that maybe religion is the work of the devil?"

He laughed, arrogant prick.  "How do you figure that, my boy?"

"Separation.  Converts.  Wars.  How about the Inquisition?  Or the Crusades?  Hell, even 9/11?  Any of those ring a bell?  All brought on by a belief in God.  Would an all powerful God demand worship in so many different ways that humans tear each other apart proving themselves right?  That hardly seems like the act of the God you prescribe Him to be.  An all-powerful God wouldn't need to be worshipped or feared.  He wouldn't need a fucking thing."

I leaned back.  His smile became more forced.  I pressed on.  "No.  YOU are the antichrist.  You stand for everything he didn't.  You and millions before you, thinking yours is the only right way.  You’re all about power.  Fear.  That's all.  Your unity will only come forcefully.  That's not unity.  That's genocide."

"You're as naive as your father is," he said.

His body was old and withered, but his mind – you could tell he was still sharp and calculating.  He knew he had a chance to rebuild America in his image.  With his people.  Melting pot be damned, the world would be a better place if everyone believed the same thing and didn’t question authority.   That was a world I didn’t want to live in.  “You can't win,” he said. 

I saw doubt in his eyes.  The slightest flinch of uncertainty.  I smiled.  "I already have.”

The scraping metal sound of the cell door woke me up.  I don’t know how I managed to sleep – I guess the body takes over at some point and just shuts down like a computer.  A dim light shone behind Reynolds as he stood above me.  I felt a bug crawling through my hair and flicked it off. 

I rubbed my eyes to get them to focus and saw Marilyn standing in front of me, not Reynolds.  With the light behind her, I thought for sure I had died, and she welcomed me to wherever the fuck this was.

“Hey,” she said.

“Marilyn?”

She sat on the cot as I sat up to meet her, and she wrapped her arms around me.  No words, we just started kissing.  My gut grew warm, and my body began moving in a natural rhythm to hers. 

Her tongue danced around mine, and I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything.  I needed her more than I had ever needed to cut.  She pulled back, looked at me, put her hand on my face.

Then she stood up, and for a quick second, I thought she was going to leave, and I was going to die with a bad case of blue balls.

But she reached out for my hand, which I gave her.  She looked behind her, pulled me up, and pulled me to the dark, shadowy corner in the front of the cell, well out of site of the hallway. 

Our kissing continued, her height equaling mine, making it easier to press her against the wall.  I felt her body under her white cloak, her hand dropping down and feeling mine.  Before I knew it she had lifted my tunic, and reached inside my underwear.  I lifted up her tunic and she practically ripped my underwear down.  I took her ass into my hands and lifted her up, grinding against her wet spot. 

One smooth twist of my hips.  Lifted her leg up.  I slid inside of her, and the knowledge of my impending death drifted away like blown smoke.  Nothing else in the world mattered as much as the soft, warm feeling of being inside of her.  I didn’t even thrust, I just wanted that feeling.  Every movement, every touch on my skin became amplified.  I buried my face into her soft neck, listening to her heavy breathing. 

Natural instincts took over, also amplified, and my thrusting lifted her back up the wall.  Fierce but not painful, her arms held my neck and her hands ran through my hair, both of us swallowing our moans and sounds of pleasure, sharing them in our mouths as we kissed. 

I couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes.  When I came inside her, I wanted to collapse right there, fold into her arms and sleep.  If I died then I would've been fine with it.

I looked at Marilyn on more time as things retreated back down to normal.  Her tunic fell back into place.  I bent down and pulled up my underwear and let my tunic fall into place.  One more kiss, her eyes watered with tears.  “I love you,” she said as she hugged me.

“I love you too,” I replied, kissing her neck one last time.  “Go.  Before Reynolds finds you here.”

A metallic rap against the steel bars brought us back.

“Let’s go,” Reynolds said.  “It’s time.”

I walked through the door, Marilyn's hand slowly falling away from mine.  Outside I could barely make out the roar of a victorious and frenzied crowd outside in the plaza.  Reynolds bound my arms bound behind my back with heavy handcuffs.  As he led me away, I turned one last time and to see  Marilyn in the open cell.  But it was empty.

Reynolds and two other thugs walked me downstairs to the lobby, and we exited to the main plaza.  I'd seen this place before in movies, but never like this.  People stood in every corner, hanging onto fallen girders, shouting, throwing shit at me.  Every group that I passed got louder, shouting at me and calling me Satan.  I'd never felt so unwanted and hated.

But inside, a warmth of peace began to spread.  Death seemed like a welcomed break to all this madness.

Up ahead, Hill stood in the bed of a pickup truck, next to a light post, the kind that hung out over the street.  Dangling from it was a noose, like a live version of the game hangman.  Reynolds held my neck and shoved me forward through the crowd.  The crowd yanked me sideways and backwards, or clawed my hair, hoodie, anything they could get their hands on.  Reynolds didn't even pause to shove people out of the way, elbowing them if necessary.

We arrived at the back of the truck.  A bouncer guy who looked like he just ate his grandmother's bones stood in the bed along with Hill.  How it didn't collapse is beyond me.  I couldn't help but smirk: an executioner?  Seriously?  "A little melodramatic, don't you think?" I asked Reynolds.  He just shoved me into the bed of the truck.  Guess not.

The bouncer reached down and grabbed me by the collar of my hoodie, easily lifting me up into the truck.  He held me in front of him as Hill cracked into what might've been called a smile.  Hill raised his hands and the crowd died down.

"We have done what we've set out to do.  Clearly this is a sign from God."  I'm not gonna say the crowd went apeshit after every line he bellowed, but it was damn close.  "We have the New Jerusalem, we have won the battle called Armageddon, we have killed the antichrist, and now we will kill his son.  The circle will be complete, and the heart of evil will be wiped out." 

The bouncer put the noose around my neck.  I could feel the itchy fibers of the rope digging into my neck.  He yanked the rope down hard into my throat.  Hurt like hell.

Hill went on.  "And then I saw heaven open, and there was a white horse. Its rider is called Faithful and True; it is with justice that he judges and fights his battles.  The robe he wore was covered with blood. His name is The Word of God.  The armies of heaven followed him, dressed in clean white linen.”  The crowd roared their venomous approval.

Hill raised his hands to quiet them down.  “Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered to fight against the one who was riding the horse and against his army."  The crowd went nuts on that one.  The Bouncer lifted me up to the side of the pickup truck's bed.  The noose curved up to its resting place in the middle of the lamp post.

I was gonna die.

"The beast was taken prisoner, and the beast and the false prophet were both thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur.  Their armies were killed by the sword that comes out of the mouth of the one who was riding the horse; and all the birds ate all they could of their flesh."  Flesh eating zombies.  A riot. 

"WAIT," someone shouted.  "Don't do it!"

The crowd opened up.  Marilyn parted them like the Red Sea.  She carried Eve with her.  "For God's sake stop this!"  She rushed to the bed of the truck. 

Hill looked down at her.  "Reverend Mother, please, this has to be done.  It is God's will.  Take the Holy Child away and wait for me."

"FUCK!  YOU!" Marilyn screamed.  That shut the place up.  Eve began a small wail.  Marilyn paced in front of the truck.  "Don’t you realize what you all sound like?  Doesn’t this remind you of anything else in the Bible?”

No one answered.  Not knowing the Bible I had no clue where she was going with this.  Marilyn pointed to Hill.  “He is the false prophet," she said.  "He wants nothing but world domination.  Power.  He's using us, manipulating us.  Can't you see that?"

Hill grabbed the sleeve of my hoodie, right where the rip was.  "He bears the mark of Satan!  Look!"

With a quick yank he pulled down my sleeve and exposed my scars.  "He cuts himself to feed off his own pain.  To shed his own blood.  Who would do that BESIDES Satan?"

Marilyn paused, looking at me, then at Eve.  Finally she spoke.  "I would."  She pulled her arm out of her white tunic, and exposed the same type of scars.  "He's just a cutter," she said.  "Like me.  We're just two messed up people with the same problems as all of you.  We just act on them differently."  She looked up at me, balancing on the side of the bed.  I could tell the Bouncer wasn't gonna let me down easily though.

"I'm sorry, Adam," she said quietly.  "I thought Hill was right.  I thought this was the end of the world.  But it's just the end of THIS world.  And the new one should be for everyone, not just Hill and his army."  She turned back to the crowd.  "I've seen innocent people die.  Christians just like you."

"God has judged them-" Hill interrupted.

"No, YOU'VE judged them!" Marilyn shot back.   Then to the crowd: "He's the evil one.  I've heard him speak of his plans.  He's the devil, not Adam!  Reverend Hill threatened me, raped me, made me do things-"

A gunshot cracked the air.  Marilyn dropped like an empty sack, Eve spilling out of arms and into a sprawling mess beside her.  I watched blood come out from her back, as she lay on the street with Eve screaming.  I shouted but my throat snapped shut as the Bouncer pushed me off the bed. 

I tensed my neck muscles, trying to keep from choking, but every breath drew the noose tighter.  My eyes watered.  I could see the chaos in the street in front of me - people running, screaming, Hill fighting off people trying to take him down, his gun still smoking in his hand.  "She had the mark!  She was in league with Satan!" he shouted with every kick. 

My head throbbed, and the noose squeezed every vein from the neck up like a balloon.  I felt like my sinuses were going to pop my eyes out of my head.  A quick breath.  Then another.  The world spun.

A shot rang out again, snapping the rope above me in two.  I dropped, the full force of my limp body collapsing to the ground in a heap.  I couldn't move.

My vision returned.  Tolbert.  Running towards me, his sniper rifle still smoking.  People's feet shuffling all around me.  More gunfire.  Rapid fire.  Screams.  Hands grabbing my armpits, lifting me up.  Dragging me.  Reynolds clocked Tolbert on the side of the head, dropping him, then fired a round just as Bill grabbed him from behind.  I tried to stand up, to check on Tolbert, but numb legs couldn't respond.  Up ahead, Bill struggled in a death grip with Reynolds.  Something fell out of Reynolds' outfit.  A small ball.  A grenade.