Chapter Thirty Two
“Do you know what the proudest moment of my life was, Evelyn? Not when I met your mother, or when I earned my MBA, but the moment when I first looked into your eyes and knew you were my daughter.”
–Marquise Jones, “Unnamed”. 5 Months After.
* * *
Was this God’s love?
An overcast, dark sky hung low today. Hisses and moans rolled out from Elysium’s square, where Abraham’s enemies remained crucified. After so much time trapped in this state and without reprieve, many had hollowed, leaving the survivors demoralized enough to follow soon after. This was used to justify the later executions, for hollowing was proof of their “Sin” and not of anything else. Workers, bosses, and even Hunters. Some were strung up as enemies of the new state. Others had merely engaged in “heresy.” The reasons for these crucifixions varied. Many might have been combating the Beholders head-on in a fight, but others found their way there simply by associating with the other gender, as had been common before this invasion. The square overflowed with the bodies of the damned, all in the shadow of the complex that was becoming the Beholder’s new tabernacle. A post-apocalyptic Vatican reborn, with a foundation paved in black blood.
Evelyn watched from above, incapable of doing anything else. She wasn’t sure what to believe. Not anymore. Every ounce of her soul screamed against the wrongness of these acts. Matthew 5 proclaimed to turn the other cheek. Luke 6 emphasized loving sinners, even at the expense of oneself. Psalms and Proverbs were littered with similar lines. No matter how much Abraham altered the text in forming his Holy Word, he could not completely scrub these unfiltered messages from God. His love was unconditional. Not like this.
“Blessed Mother,” Brother Jericho said, “your presence is required.”
She sighed. “That time already, huh?”
“Your family awaits.”
If only that were true. “Lead the way.”
Evelyn followed in the steps of Jericho and his fellow Inquisitors as they made their way for the daily Mass. Abraham would again be speaking to his latest inductees while she stood behind as no more than his prop. With weeks since Leah’s defeat and the subjugation of Pandemonium’s core, many had flocked under his banner of their own accord.
But even Evelyn was blown away by this latest crowd. Elysium’s most prominent dance floor had been retrofitted for this purpose. Instead of giant speakers and flashing lights with a swarm of half-naked rezzers moshing in the chaos, this space now looked like a medieval cathedral. Sconces lit the hall in place of electricity, the graffiti had all been cleaned up, and giant, unadorned crosses now dangled where posters once sat. Pews lined the floor, with a mob of freshly-minted Beholders awaiting their rumored proof of the Lord’s power…
Of the unhollowed woman whom God had spared during their day of judgment.
Father Abraham strolled into view. All eyes fell on him. “Brothers and Sisters,” he began, grinning madly like a televangelist about to rake in another million. “Praise be to you all today for coming for a good dose of faith. Praise be to our Blessed Mother for gracing us with her holy presence. Praise be to the Lord for providing us with these bounties. Amen!”
“Amen!” the crowd echoed.
He went on from there, delivering this latest sermon. Today focused on Romans 13:1 and how authority must be respected. Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of the Lord: the powers that be are ordained by the Lord. Of course, this only applied now that the Beholders were in control. God punished Hades for defying His will, and Leah was the Whore of Babylon whom He struck down. They’d never been “legitimate” authorities. Only pretenders misleading the masses into eternal damnation. Now that Evelyn could see through the cracks, she could practically disregard his entire argument on its face.
But Father Abraham trudged along without missing a beat, and the crowd ate it all up. That was his strength, more than anything. Where everyone else went through this world, slowly hollowing through indecision and doubt, he spoke and behaved with a conviction that could not be matched. All virtues could be tied to his version of the Christian faith, while every vice would be punished by God’s divine might. The Beholders thus became extensions of his own personal dogma. He fed them an authentic faith, and they rewarded him with unshakable loyalty that only emboldened him further. A community incapable of change, and one that only grew stronger with time.
And yet, somehow, some way, fate just kept working out for Father Abraham too. Every prediction he made came true, and every miracle he insisted on would get born into reality. He decreed that the Beholders would find where their Chosen One if they migrated west, and it was done. He prophesied his encounter with Evelyn, and it was done. He insisted that his followers need only faith to defeat the Hollowing, and it was done. He told Evelyn that he would bring her proof of the Lord’s power, and it was done.
In a world filled with cannibalistic undead clawing each other apart for the tiniest scraps, he walked around with no more protection than what the Lord gifted him. No weapons, no fighting prowess. How else could he have made it this far, if not through divine blessings? With all rational options exhausted, that was all that remained.
So why did this hallway feel so empty and inauthentic?
Abraham pivoted to a dissertation on respecting the family, hedging on the rich material in Proverbs. His people quivered to the wisdom he spread.
The lesson continued, but Evelyn no longer listened. While he spoke of the strength of the Beholder family, hers still wandered outside these walls. Somehow, Evelyn knew that Liam and Leah were still safe. If God lingered anywhere in this world, He would be watching over the two of them long enough to make sure they made it back home.
Then they would be a real family yet again. Yes, that would happen so long as Evelyn made it through these trying days. Abraham and the Beholders were just noise. At least compared to her family. After all, it wasn’t just the three of them anymore.
Evelyn rubbed her stomach. Even though the days were too early for the visible bump, and there weren’t any tests to confirm it, she knew the truth.
Evelyn was pregnant with her second child.
Just more proof that not everything he said came true, she reminded herself. Abraham believed that Leah was the only unhollowed child in this world, a testament to the Lord’s power. But Evelyn had another on the way, and there was no denying the contradiction this created for him. Could his religion handle a second Chosen One?
In spite of everything else, this much gave her hope. While the Beholders fought over Pandemonium’s boroughs to attain their full supremacy, new life grew within her womb. One world continued to fall apart through blood and violence, but life still found a way to come through. Born from love and passion, in a place where both had been a distant memory for so very long.
Maybe this was God’s true guidance. Evelyn and Liam had never been a real couple. Not in the organic sense. They had just been shoved together in a bunker twelve years after civilization ended. As the last surviving humans that anyone could find on this earth, there was neither agency nor legitimacy in their relationship. It had been created out of necessity by the last members of a race on the cusp of genocide.
And she’d done her part. Without question, every step of the way, Evelyn fought for the man by her side. Killing the hollows, maintaining Cheyenne, and keeping her health in a good enough state to bear more children. That was the mission, after all, and no one else could complete it but them.
But what had come of their souls in the process? When the first stretch of turmoil died down and they only had the cold reality of their forced relationship, the two withered under such an untenable truth. Just as marriages fell apart in the world before, so too did they find themselves in that same trap. An inevitable, slow decay of two adults who’d never been together by choice.
Until their last day together. Right before Leah’s fever became apparent and they again prioritized her needs over their own, the two came together as one. Not sex, not procreation, but love. Evelyn had started to really think their relationship was irreparably destroyed, but then her husband came back. To her: Evelyn Jones. That little girl who’d been too young to embrace romantic love before the Hollowing, only to become a woman who clung to the shadows lest she get burned by the light. She’d gotten a taste of the purity and bliss that came with the passion of a real marriage under God.
As Abraham’s sermon winded down to its end, Evelyn knew what she must do next. If there ever was any reason for her to be chosen to walk this earth, it would be to protect the lives of those she loved.
No matter who got in their way.
* * *
More days came and went as Evelyn continued in faux acquiescence. She watched as day bled to night from the safety of Elysium as she planned her next move.
The Beholders might have secured the primary loci of power during the early days, but much of Pandemonium still resisted their takeover, especially as the baptisms ramped up in force. Fran clung to the Bank with all her might, and with infinite coffers to leverage, she’d managed to recruit many soldiers to join in her fight. Though the Hunters were equal opportunists who fought as easily for the Beholders as anyone else, they were also a clique like any other and had kept the Lodge under lock and key. It thus became a neutral ground for the revolution and occupation both.
If Evelyn could only make it there, she could bribe her way out of this city and find her family on her own…
First, she’d have to evade the guards though. Brother Jericho led a group of Inquisitors who watched over her night and day. Steel bars were fixed over the windows of her chambers “for her protection,” of course, and no one could get in or out of her hall without Father Abraham knowing. Her unsolicited attempt to get Fran to surrender had backfired once he’d heard about that stunt.
But Evelyn was not one to underestimate.
The Beholders had formed their new tabernacle in Elysium out of equal parts necessity and haste. They were quick to secure the main points of entry, but this was a fortress that Hades himself designed and renovated with his extemporaneous, nonchalant attitude. Over a decade of changes being made on a whim, and nobody other than Evelyn really could see how far he’d gone with his flights of fancy. Entire wings were propped up or gutted to make new paths, rooms were resized or split to appease the needs of the moment, and no shortage of corridors were paved over, only to be forgotten as hidden passages that could quickly skirt the foundation.
After weeks with little to do but wait around for her handlers to feed her or send some prayers, Evelyn finally found her own escape. The rest would have to be made up on the fly.
The door opened, and Brother Jericho entered.
“Blessed Mother,” he said with a bow, “I have brought the food you requested.”
He laid out a platter of charred meat, and her stomach roiled. Do these people not understand the concept of ‘well done?’
“And the silverware?” she asked. “This meat’s tough.”
He grimaced and placed the large steak knife down. “But of course. Just be careful with it.”
If only he knew. “Thank you.”
Jericho left her alone, and Evelyn spun her new weapon in hand. A couple grams heavy on the back end, give or take, but it would get the job done, should she need it.
She set the steak knife aside, lifted her mattress, and dug beneath. The tied-up cluster of pics she’d squirreled away remained where she’d left them, and the simpler, inconspicuous white cloak made for a stark contrast to the one she’d been forced to wear. She quickly swapped out her clothes and tore some cloth from her sheets. That would make for a perfectly viable veil. A handful of talcum powder over the face gave her an uneven, pale sheen. Far from an ideal disguise, but enough to sell her as a rezzer at first glance and would help to mask her scent.
With her outfit secure, Evelyn slipped her knife up her sleeve and dragged her mattress below the spot where the vent above lay. Every second counted.
The vent was dusty, and the air tasted of mold, but Evelyn braved through without batting an eye. She was no stranger to confined, stale places.
Little by little, she crept through the route she’d plotted. Her movements were silent and precise against the rusted metal. What few creaks that did resonate dissipated as quickly as they began. She balanced her weight with her speed and reached the end within minutes.
The hallway’s ceiling panel dipped up and down, with nothing else to herald her arrival. She drew her veil and thrust it over the bridge of her powdered nose. Just like that, Evelyn looked no different than any other Sister.
Inquisitors and Friars marched this way and that, but few paid her mind. Evelyn continued her advance, pacing her steps to be neither urgent nor distinct. Her hands remained clasped, and she bowed her head as she wandered for the exit.
Then Father Abraham rounded the bend with Brother Aaron in tow. Their probing eyes drifted towards hers, and Abraham tilted his head curiously as they lingered a beat too long.
No time to think. Evelyn dipped around the corner before she could be made, then picked another at random. By the time either of them would’ve reached her spot, she’d already doubled back and entered a different wing.
Just keep going, she told herself. You’ve got time. There were plenty of other exits, and nobody had raised the alarm yet. A couple more hallways went without incident as she moved in the general direction she needed.
But her heart skipped a beat when she descended a flight of stairs. Only one path forward. Guarded by Inquisitors.
Their eyes locked onto her before she could turn.
“You there!” one hailed with a raised palm. “This area’s restricted.”
“My apologies, Brother,” she said in a gruff tone. “I seem to have lost my way. These halls are vast and wind in many directions.”
He squinted. “What purpose do you serve in the tabernacle, Sister? Mass ended hours ago.”
What purpose, indeed? Few regular Beholders were permitted in these halls. This was their holiest of places, after all. The seat of power for Abraham and his Friars. Why would she be allowed here?
“I have been sent to prepare another meal for the Blessed Mother,” Evelyn decided.
“Another?”
“She did not enjoy the last.” She dipped her head another inch out of view. “If you would be so kind as to show me the way…”
The other Inquisitor scoffed. “I told you we were short-staffed down here. Lord only knows how Communion would be reached without us.”
The first one chuckled. “If this is your assignment, then you have reached the right place, Sister. Praise be the Lord for His guidance.”
Thank God. “Praise be.”
The two ducked out of the way.
Evelyn entered the next room and immediately regretted it. A fetid stench wafted through her veil, stinging her eyes and churning her stomach. Somewhere between rotten and acidic, with a sour tang to follow. It took everything to keep from vomiting. Was this a kitchen or a garbage bin?
Then she saw the source of the smell, and her heart skipped a beat. A giant vat stood in the middle of the room, with a group of Sisters pouring a yellow-white liquid from jugs inside. The milk they collected for Holy Communion, no doubt.
But it was the additive they put in that made her blood boil.
Brains. Grey, infected, rezzer brains. Carved-out heads lined the shelves of the kitchen. Some of the Sisters ground the grey matter into a smooth paste while another spun a ladle about that was practically the size of her arms. When the paste became thin enough, the Sisters dripped the liquified brains into the finished concoction.
Every Beholder depended on their Holy Communion to retain their Rez, and they did so under the belief that it was through the power of pure faith that they remained so strong. But there was no magic here. Glial cells were a staple of any rezzer’s diet, and these Sisters only laundered the taste so that it could not be sensed by any who’d consume it.
Evelyn wanted to scream. For all his hypocrisies, this secret would have to be Abraham’s worst. Now that she’d glimpsed behind the curtain, there was no going back.
The Beholders were as cannibalistic as everyone else.
The Sisters turned her way, but before anyone could question Evelyn’s presence, she grabbed a bin filled with refuse and went for the backdoor. Sunlight fell on her anew, and she tossed the bin into a nearby dumpster to maintain her cover. Murmurs dribbled out from the kitchen soon after, but they were reacting too slowly. She hopped the nearest wall and broke into a sprint before anyone could pay her mind.
A shout soon followed, but it was too late to stop her. Evelyn was already free. She managed to travel blocks before Elysium’s alarms began to echo.
Her chest thumped as she ran down the street, but fatigue was the last thing on her mind. Holy Communion was supposed to be the pillar of the Beholder’s existence. The sole reason that she’d been lured into giving them a chance. Countless rezzers had joined their ranks based on the belief that they were finally rid of the Hollowing’s curse. On the hope that they could live a life built on piety alone. Their Communion was supposed to reinforce the power of their shared faith.
Evelyn gripped her knife closely, the tears in her eyes. All lies. It was all based on fucking lies!
She reached the Lodge before long. The sandstone walls rose in front, and the hedges were trimmed and clear. No guards were in sight, but a pair of Inquisitors loitered near the entrance, and they looked ready to screen anyone who drew near.
Evelyn fingered the pics she’d smuggled. I’m so close. If she could just get by these guys, she could work up to their suite and pilfer the bookcases for all they were worth. This city thrived on the quid pro quo. Someone would give her a car if she paid them well enough.
Then she’d be free of this hellhole once and for all.
A voice hailed from behind. “Blessed Mother?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and her eyes widened.
Chantelle grinned. “Yes, that is you, isn’t it? I can smell it on you.” She closed in. “What are you doing out here?”
Chantelle first smiled with a mix of interest and concern, but then she spotted the pics and her smile dissolved. Her eyes went to the Inquisitors next before falling back to her. A distant alarm continued to blare.
And Evelyn just stood there. No excuses at hand. No lying to be done. She’d been caught red-handed.
Then Chantelle’s confused visage hardened, and she grabbed her hand. “Follow me.”
Evelyn nearly tumbled from the sudden yank, but she went along in silence. The Inquisitors grew distant as Chantelle pulled her around the corner.
“Are you alright, Sister Chantelle?” Evelyn asked, unsure of what else to say.
“Quiet,” she whispered, her head whipping back and forth as she looked feverishly over her shoulders. “You’re lucky I found you and not them.”
She gulped. Wherever this was coming from, Evelyn would take the win.
Once they reached an alley, Chantelle broke free and pulled a radio from within her cloak. “I’ve got her.”
Another message came back, but it was too quick and gargled to make out.
“Understood,” she said. “We’ll be there soon.”
“You were never baptized,” Evelyn realized. “Were you?”
Chantelle beamed, falling back into feigned fervor. “But of course I was, Blessed Mother. How else would I be able to serve you and the Lord? It truly has been a blessing to remain by your side. Praise be!”
She laughed. “Well, shit. Aren’t you just full of surprises, Chantelle?”
“We have to move quickly, Evelyn. They’ve practically emptied Elysium searching for you.”
“Got a car?”
She shook her head. “No. Something better… Trust me.”
“Got it.” She gripped her knife tight, just to be safe.
They weaved through the streets, northwest along the rim between Tartarus and Asphodel. Trucks filled with Inquisitors rolled by, but the pair were too quick for them to get a lock. It took some time, but before Evelyn knew it, they were within a stone’s throw of the Bank.
A lone Hunter stood watch along a nearby cellar entrance, his face hidden beneath a mask shaped like a skull, with flowers and vines decorated along the sides. He nodded as Chantelle approached and opened the door. The two moved inside, down a flight of stairs, and into a dusty basement beneath.
Yet again, Evelyn’s eyes nearly fell from their sockets the moment the door shut behind her. Out from the shadows of this dimmed cellar, another epiphany hobbled into view. Her black-gloved fingers were wrapped around a cane for support, but a pair of piercing, lilac irises stared into Evelyn’s own.
This should not have been possible. Not after the sheer weight that had been thrown against her.
Evelyn could not help but gasp. “How are you still alive!?”
Leah tilted her head in silence.
