Chapter Thirty Four
“After this I looked, and Behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lord, begging for His deliverance…”
–Father Abraham, “The Holy Word”. 12 Years After.
* * *
Fuck this job.
Zeke hobbled through the woods, the blood twisting his long brown duster into a darker black through his many open wounds. Though he’d managed to Hunt his share of this Enclave to keep his Rez intact, for every one that dropped, another two were there to replace. How the fuck were there so many of them still out here?
He took stock of his gear. Only a handful of .357s for his revolver and half a mag left in the AK. At least his bastard sword still held strong. Ichor dripped from its edge, reminding him just how many hollows he’d killed to reach this point.
Zeke grimaced. How had he let himself get trapped this way? This was supposed to be an easy job. Find a suitable location to build an outpost as close to the Black Zone as possible. Go all the way beyond the Mississippi River if necessary. With the conventional armies of humanity defeated, they had nothing more to fear.
And yet, here he was, a Hunter on the run.
The water splashed nearby. Whispers followed. Zeke spat out a glob of blood and hobbled further, his bastard sword resting over one shoulder while his revolver sat in his other hand.
Here they come again. The Beholders. A seemingly small group of religious nuts set up in a bayou in Louisiana. Zeke had even offered to bring them back to Pandemonium after his crew ran into them. They were harmless enough, and he needed a place to hide out until a nearby herd of hollows migrated away.
But then his people started disappearing, one after the next. No choice but to turn hostile then, but Zeke was too late. What had started as a crew of eight dwindled to four before he discovered their game, and now he was the last man standing.
Just keep going, and you’re out. He could handle the hollows well enough. Get close, hold breath, blend in, and shamble off to safety before these Beholders caught him. Once he reached the herd, he’d be in the clear.
Then he’d go back home, let Hades know how many of these fuckers were out here, and bomb them back into the stone age where they belonged.
He grinned, knowing how satisfying that would be.
Zeke paused. There was something in the air… A sense that he couldn’t quite place. The kind of instinct that always protected him before now.
With a roar, Zeke spun around and thrust his sword. It cleaved through the thrown net just in time. He rushed through the torn fibers before they could envelop him.
Only for another to launch from the other side. Before he could swing again, the mesh wrapped around, stones weighing it together. Zeke squirmed, but his limbs gained no traction.
The Beholders rushed forth, their widened, frenzied eyes bearing into his own. Zeke scrambled for his revolver, but his arms were now trapped in this tangle of hemp. His enemies pressed their advantage and dove in.
Even tied up and wounded, Zeke did not allow himself to go down easy. Like a cornered bull, he bounded back and forth, using his sheer size to cripple whoever drew too close. More than one Beholder grunted as bones got crushed.
But it was futile in the end. There were too many of them, and they soon had him forced into the ground.
“Heavens, what a fuss,” that familiar voice crept in.
Zeke coughed. “That you out there, Abraham? Quit being a bitch and step into the open.”
He complied with a tsk. “Such vile language. We invite you into our home, we give you food and shelter, and we even offer the Word of the Lord to help you understand our faith. And yet, you still spit at us for all we’ve offered.”
“You hollowed half my crew and killed the rest, you fucking asshole.”
“I will concede that I overestimated their spirits. There is a balance to be made when performing a baptism. Those who are strong become reborn, while those too weak wither under the weight of their many Sins. It was not I who failed them. The Lord simply did not select them for a higher purpose.”
“You’re insane.”
Abraham smirked. “Tell me, Zeke. How do you see your own soul fairing under the eyes of God? Will you be strong enough to see His light, or will you succumb to Sin too?”
He grit his teeth. “Neither. I’ll never submit to your bullshit.”
“Oh, but you will, one way or the other.” He raised his nose to stare into the sun, the light reflecting off his vigorous, lilac eyes. “No one is above the power of the Lord, my son. You will soon see.”
Abraham took another step forth. “You will experience the power of divinity for yourself.”
* * *
What an insurmountable force!
Brother Ezekiel watched the ocean of sinners below, unsure on how to proceed. So many had come to block the path forth. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions. All marching around the ruins of Los Angeles as though this were their home. The Unholy City sat at its center. Revelations had truly come!
“Don’t see a way through there, mate,” Liam said. “Might be that we take this slow, haul up somewhere safe, and find a way for you to sneak in there when the coast is clear.”
His daughter moaned in agreement.
“It is safe,” Ezekiel said.
Liam squinted at the spot where his congregation was supposed to be, now buried under the earth from what appeared to be a landslide. “You sure about that?”
He wasn’t. “The Lord guided us this far, Liam. Now is not the time to doubt His blessings. The Father set several rendezvous points in case anything happened to our camp, and they will come when the time is right. Of this, I am certain.”
“Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure that you can guarantee my daughter’s safety in their hands? Can you truly make that claim? Don’t forget why we’ve come this far.”
He sighed. “I was broken, beaten, and tormented by Sin before God brought me to my Brothers and Sisters. Though we can be crude and fearful against those who do not understand us, they would do nothing to put you or the Chos– or Leah in harm’s way.” He considered the words carefully. “The Lord wants your family reunited, and I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. No matter who gets in our way.”
Liam patted his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Then I’ll trust you on this, Brother.”
Ezekiel smiled in spite of his discipline. Hearing Liam call him his “Brother” so naturally sent a more potent rush than he could ever know. That title was a mere formality in their camp. A reminder that all Beholders were Brothers and Sisters under God. Meanwhile, Liam was a heretical atheist, yet he chose to adopt the same mantle.
It warmed his heart.
The two made their way to the meeting site. From their position in the hills overlooking the valley, they could plot a secure course without drawing the ire of the sinners’ main horde. Those lost souls preferred to cling to lower terrain, as if to be as close to the Devil’s domain as possible.
Buildings were few and far between. Though these structures must have once been sprawling manors during their peak, God’s power had eroded them into hollow shells over the years. The windows had all shattered after so much time, and vines choked the walls wherever they could form. Even the marble fountains and swimming pools became transformed into verdant sheets. Algae clung to the surface, and flowers bloomed on top.
From what Ezekiel understood, these hills had once been home to the most wealthy and decadent of mankind. No doubt they considered themselves greater than the Lord to erect such palaces in their name, and must have bathed in the luxury they gained through it. How insignificant their castles had become. What happened to their owners now?
Sinners shambled down the street ahead, and Ezekiel had his answer. Their empty, soulless eyes sensed plenty but beheld nothing, and their teeth clattered without thought. When they did notice the three drawing near, they raised their hands mindlessly with a hiss.
Brother Ezekiel reached for his bo staff and sighed, remembering it had been lost many weeks before. The crowbar he’d uncovered would have to do instead. He gave it a spin and moved for their enemies.
The sinners did not survive long. After so much time to recover, Ezekiel’s body was perhaps more powerful than it had ever been, and could bash through their skulls with ease. Liam kept his distance, rocking Leah about while the path was cleared.
“Not too bad,” he said. “Looks like you’re back to your A-game.”
“That is one way to describe it, I suppose.”
In truth, Ezekiel could not escape the lingering sense of shame. After years without consuming flesh, he had grown accustomed to ignoring the Hunger before it dominated his actions, but now that he had forced himself to defy the Beholder creed to fulfill this mission, he could no longer contain this desire. Sin flourished in the depths of his heart as a result, and he craved more with each meal.
His skin had also rotted out after so much time away from home. Without the preservatives to keep his flesh smooth and clear, it had dried out in most places, leaving fissures that cracked and oozed. Ezekiel dared not stare too deeply at his reflection. He suspected that his appearance was little different than any sinner.
It will all be worth it in the end, Ezekiel reminded himself. So long as he pushed through this final hurdle, all the Sin he’d committed would have been in service to the Lord. Oh, how badly he wanted to find an open field to repent in peace and embrace the taste of Holy Communion with his family once more…
They reached the base of the hills. Though sinners roamed in the distance, the Lord blessed their path, for not another one troubled them on this final stretch.
Ezekiel’s chest tightened. Two sets of stairs rose from the cracked street, with a trio of worn, acacia doors fused shut through decay. The white plaster walls might have broken after years of neglect, and many of the red tiles on the roof had long since fallen off, but a pair of belfries stood tall on either side before being capped by domes made of gold. A cross still remained on one of these domes, projecting the Lord’s power outward, even as the rest of the world continued to erode to dust.
Ezekiel almost couldn’t believe this miracle. After so many months of fighting through the wastelands of a dead world, they were here.
They were home.
As the group closed in, a shadow passed by a window.
“Hold up!” it hailed, the edge of a crossbow tipping into view. “Who are you, and what business do you have with this place?”
Ezekiel bowed. “I am Brother Ezekiel, and I have returned with the Chosen One.”
“What did he just say?” another voice hissed.
A third gasped. “Can it be!?”
“Let them in!”
In a flash, a door creaked open, and a group of his Brothers rushed out, their black cloaks flowing in the wind.
…Though not ones whom Ezekiel recognized. He interposed himself between them and Liam.
“You are not from my congregation,” Ezekiel said, crowbar in hand. “Who are you?”
The lead man bent low. “Forgive us, Brother. We were all only baptized recently, and would not recognize you on sight.”
“All of you were made Inquisitors? Under whose orders?”
He blinked. “Brother Aaron, of course. The Friars guide the Inquisitors, so we report to him.”
Ezekiel grunted, but held his tongue. It would not do to show unease in front of his new Brothers, even if such a decision was one he would have never allowed.
“Go find Brother Aaron if you must then, and tell him of my arrival.” He looked over his shoulder. “We will wait here until he and Father Abraham come for us.”
The Inquisitor nodded. “Understood, Brother!”
The group went inside, and Ezekiel found himself even less at ease. Though some of these Brothers bore repeater crossbows, many were armed with rifles and machine guns. One even used a radio to call back into Pandemonium as if there was nothing amiss with this employing such an unholy device.
These matters are not your own. At least they had put some effort into preserving this holy site. The pews were freshly varnished and organized, and the floor had been cleared of dust and debris. Candles burned throughout, filling the church with an aroma that was sweet on the tongue. The stained windows held firm, radiating God’s love through the brilliant light that passed through.
Ezekiel probed the head Inquisitor – or Brother Paul as he’d been renamed upon baptism – and learned of the many developments since his exodus. As it turned out, the Head Huntress rallied a force of heretics and attacked their congregation directly, just as Ezekiel feared she might. But the Lord protected them by gifting the Father with a premonition before, sparing their community while destroying the assassins. The rest of Pandemonium had since seen the folly of their ways and been baptized in the Lord’s light, though many still resisted the Beholders’ holy crusade. The unsullied mother, Evelyn, had also been located, and now stood by Father Abraham’s side.
And yet, for all the talk of their divine cause and the faith in their eyes, it was not lost on Brother Ezekiel that these men brandished unholy instruments as their own, and used the technology of a sinful world to supplement their arsenal. Did everyone else forget how their community had been built?
You’ve been away too long. There was no telling just how many changes were made in a fight against heretics. The Lord only knew what trials his people faced in his absence. And he was far from one to judge after his own journey.
A pair of trucks rolled in sometime later, with Father Abraham inside. Ezekiel swallowed the bile in his throat at the sight of someone so pure inside a machine so ugly. More Inquisitors came out to his flank, armed with their own automatic weapons.
“Praise be the Lord’s power,” Father Abraham said, his jaw dropping at the sight of him.
Brother Ezekiel nodded. “Blessed be His name. It is good to see you, Father.”
He held up his hands. “Come to me, my son. What a truly auspicious time that we live in. As the armies of the dead converge and the hour grows late, the Lord has delivered you right on time.”
Ezekiel closed his eyes as Abraham’s fingers clasped his face. It had been so, so long since he’d felt this touch…
“Well, Ezekiel, you have become quite corrupted, it appears.”
“In more ways than one. I did what was necessary to see this mission complete.”
“And complete, it is,” he pointed out, his eyes narrowing on Liam and Leah. “Not only have you located the Chosen One, but you’ve done so without harm.”
“Where is my wife?” Liam asked.
“She awaits you back in the tabernacle, where you belong.”
He narrowed his gaze onto him. “Why didn’t she come with you then?”
“Must she have?”
Liam grit his teeth, but Ezekiel stepped between. “Forgive us, Father. It has been a long journey, and we have gone through many trials to reach this point. Please bring him to Evelyn. They deserve to see each other again.”
“But of course,” Father Abraham said with a warm smile. “We need not drag out such a holy reunion.”
The group started making their way, with Liam holding his daughter close, and Ezekiel lagging behind. But then one of his Brothers stood in between.
“Not you,” Abraham said, his tone suddenly sharp.
Ezekiel grimaced. “I must accompany them.”
“Of course. But first, there is much that we must discuss.”
“Now?” He looked around. “Here?”
“Is there a location more sacred nearby?”
“What’s going on?” Liam asked as his Brothers nudged him onward.
“It’s okay,” Ezekiel assured him. “I won’t be far behind.”
The two met eyes as Liam got shepherded into the truck. Ezekiel did his best to project assurance. If not for Liam’s sake, then his own.
He did not break his gaze until the truck had rolled away. Only then did he turn back to Abraham.
“I must ask, Father. What is the meaning of this?”
“Do not forget whom it is that you speak,” he said, his voice sharp as a knife. “I wish to understand what exactly transpired on this mission of yours.”
Though Ezekiel understood not why Abraham would be so tense, he did his best to obey. He recounted the raid at the hospital, and his chase up north, and the loss of the Brothers, and the Hunters who came for them, and the arduous trip back home. No words were minced, nor did Ezekiel shy away from his own indulgence in Sin. Abraham watched him in silence, his countenance veiled behind a wall of piety.
Abraham frowned once he finished. “So much Sin… So much heresy… And yet, you not only befriended the man you hunted, but you returned the Chosen One to us in the end.”
“God truly blessed our journey,” Ezekiel agreed.
But he remained perturbed. “Is that how you view this journey? Not merely of success, but of a divine victory gained? Need I remind you of how much was lost while you were away. It was not just your Brothers and Sisters who gave their lives in defense of something more, but the camp that we all slaved to build over many long years. The tabernacle fell as well, with the Holiest Place lost with it.” He furrowed his brow. “And you still speak of this escapade of yours as though it were all God’s will?”
Ezekiel averted his gaze. “I was certainly lost for much of this mission, and did not see the truth until I consumed flesh.” He smiled. “I suppose that only through facing Sin up close did I discover the Lord’s light for myself. I am ready to perform whatever repentance is needed.”
“As long as you’re ready to accept responsibility for your actions, there is hope that your soul can be saved yet.”
It was then that Ezekiel realized his other Brothers had him surrounded, guns in hand. A pair grabbed his arms before he could react.
He gasped. “Father, what are you doing!?”
“Exactly as you have requested,” he said. Clouds passed by the windows, shrouding his face in shadow. “That you indulged in so much Sin is license enough for an Inquisition, but the fact that you’ve deluded yourself into believing this was all part of the Lord’s plan is nothing short of the Devil’s work. Such flagrant heresy cannot be allowed to stand!”
“I returned with the Chosen One!”
“But only after you violated the peace I established with the heretics,” Father Abraham countered. “Fighting heresy with further heresy only begets more heresy. Your dead Brothers are a testament to what your hubris accomplished. Thankfully, the Lord brought the Chosen One back home despite your treachery, and not because of it.”
His lips were quivering. “But Father, I did so under your orders…” He’d done everything because of him!
He did not blink. “Do you not see how the Devil commands your tongue, Ezekiel? I made no such order. I would never violate a covenant I made under God, even if it was done with heretics. This betrayal was a machination of yours alone, and you bear responsibility for all the damage that it has inflicted.”
Ezekiel couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be! After so much time on the road and so many memories lost, there was only a single one that kept him going, every step of the way. Abraham had looked into his eyes and said those most precious words…
Save Leah Fenix. Save the Lord whom has saved your soul. Do not return without Her. The fate of the world depends on it!
And yet, as he studied the eyes of his Father, he saw neither recognition nor shame. Only that of genuine disgust. As though it was Ezekiel who held a twisted memory and not him. But that was impossible. None of this made sense!
“I don’t know what to do!” Ezekiel shouted, his voice uneven.
“Allow yourself the dignity to rest in peace, my son. Allow us to purge your tortured soul from its corrupted shell so that you may have a chance at peace in God’s eyes.”
He bowed his head in silence. What more could be done?
“Do make it quick,” Father Abraham said to his Brothers.“I wish to preserve the soldier this man once was, not the heretic he has become.”
They nodded and dragged Ezekiel away. Not that they needed to bother. He’d lost all his strength to resist.
Father Abraham turned to leave.
“Wait,” Ezekiel said before he was gone for good. “Please tell me this much, Father. What will be done with Leah Fenix?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Seven trumpets sounded to reach this point, but seven bowls must still be poured. I will make this decision, just as God wills.”
It took a moment to process the words, but Ezekiel gasped when the revelation took root. “You can’t!” He lunged forth, only to be forced to his knees.
Abraham shook his head. “Such a shame that you will not be there to behold His glory, Ezekiel. Such a shame, indeed.” He walked off without another word.
The Inquisitors muttered amongst themselves as they pulled him outside, but Ezekiel did not listen. He instead focused on the image of Abraham in his mind, repeating false words without the slightest hint of awareness. How could that be possible?
Since that first moment when Brother Ezekiel was baptized in the name of the Lord, many aspects became self-evident. God existed, He had chosen them all to behold His greatness, and Abraham would lead the way. Every family had their Father, and theirs was no exception. This position did not occur lightly. Only through Abraham’s unquestionable faith and inhuman resistance to Sin could he guide them all through these difficult times. Not once had anyone questioned this dynamic.
Until now. Ezekiel had been ordered to capture Leah Fenix. He and his Brothers entered this mission knowing the burdens imposed and the cost of failure, and they had done everything in their power to see it to its end. He witnessed their deaths, inflicted barbarism on their enemies, and blackened his very soul to see it finished. These memories could not have been the work of Satan. They were all that compelled Ezekiel onward.
So there could only be one other conclusion to make. It was Abraham’s recollection in error. Not his. No alternatives could be made.
Father Abraham was as vulnerable to Sin as anyone else.
As alien as such a thought became, there was no denying the truth now that he could see it. A thousand moments blossomed again in his mind. All the moments where Abraham assured him of some ill-begotten memories… Of unfulfilled prophecies in the Holy Word that required revision… Could it be that these instances should have been reversed? Did God speak through Abraham as he claimed?
Or had this always been the work of someone else?
Ezekiel caught his reflection in a stained glass mosaic of Jesus Christ on his way out the door. Just as this Chosen One was crowned in a wreath of thorns, so too could he see the tattoo around his shriveled scalp. All while his Brothers marched him off to his death.
The vision could not have been more revealing. The Romans chose to use this device to humiliate and degrade the name of the Lord. They considered the kingdom they’d built to be above His power.
But the true meaning had always been more nuanced. There could be no knowledge without experience. No enlightenment devoid of suffering. Jesus Christ became a Chosen One through bearing this pain. He tasted death for Himself so that He could understand the death of all men. Only through His sacrifice had humanity been saved.
Ezekiel was no messiah, but he could not ignore God’s lessons when He put them so plainly in front of his eyes.
The Inquisitors tied Ezekiel’s arms behind his back and formed a firing squad.
The fools. This knot was amateurish and would be easy to escape.
“Any final words, Brother Ezekiel?” Brother Paul asked, his reddened eyes awash with a falsified faith.
He spoke a quick prayer to the Lord for his fortune. With a crunch of the bones in his thumbs, Ezekiel slipped out of his restraints. The Inquisitors loaded their unholy weapons, not realizing their prisoner had broken free.
Ezekiel closed his eyes, feeling the gentle touch of the sun and a slow breeze on his skin. Abraham had deluded himself… Perhaps that had always been so. Though he claimed to follow the Lord’s Word, what he planned to force onto Leah Fenix could not be allowed to stand. To defile Her perfect form in this way was nothing short of heresy!
Worse yet, Ezekiel had sworn in the name of the Lord that he would keep Her safe. Such a covenant was not one to be taken lightly, and he had done so with all his heart and soul. Not even the Father could get in the way of that promise.
The Inquisitors took aim. Ezekiel opened his eyes, his resolve and faith more unshakable than ever.
No one was above God’s judgment. No one.
