Gudsriki (2 page)

“I suppose I will,” she said, less enthusiastic about attending. The silence grew more awkward as Ryan stared at Andy Jr.

“Harry Potter. That's what lies in wait for your son. They're gonna tempt him with witchcraft starting today, and perversion tomorrow. And it won't end until he's in the Kingdom of Heaven. There are adversaries out there. Did you know that's what the devil's name means? The adversary?”

Jessica nodded. After a moment, five loud, slow knocks came at the door.

“That will be my father.”

Jessica moved to stand up, but Ryan jogged to the door and let his father in. He was an older man with white hair, wearing a white linen suit. He walked to Jessica and shook her hand firmly. His voice was soft and warm.

“You must be Jessica. A pleasure to meet you! I'm Cody Sparks.”

“Thank you. Ryan was just telling me about you.”

“Oh boy, you must be evangelized out by now. I'm sorry, my son can be a bit forward when it comes to his old man.”

Ryan looked a bit ashamed.

“And that must be our new friend. What a strapping young lad!”

“Thank you!”

She nodded again and set him down in the crib. “So Ryan tells me you're pastor at the little white church out that way?”

“Sure am, services and school Sundays, studies Saturdays. Ice cream on Wednesdays! I'm proud to say there's not a man, woman, or child in this little town that doesn't attend regularly. Only a true church can earn that kind of loyalty. And I tell you we would love to see you there Sunday.”

“Yes, I think I will. Will I meet Mrs. Sparks there too?”

The pastor bowed his head. “I'm afraid she died some time ago.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

Ryan interrupted. “Christ tells us that in the end days it will be parents against their own children, and my mother was a good example. She wasn't a believer; she was never born again. Sure, she went to church, but—”

“We don't need to go into that, Ryan—” said Cody, but Ryan continued.

“She was sinful. Plain sinful. She read books. Books about Islam and Judaism. One of those people who thought Jesus was a Jew, but the synagogues we know today, those are the synagogue of Satan. And he pulled her in like a hooked fish. She was a school teacher, mind you, and she had power over many a child's mind. And she used it to teach blasphemies. Evolution. That we came from apes, and what sickens me, this sickens me most of all, she knew Genesis. She read the Bible every week, but she taught lies. And she taught tolerance of the faggotry too. Tolerance.”

“I'm sorry to—”

“You want to know why she died? Why my momma died? Because the avenging angel, the angel Samael, came to her. Whose name means ‘The Poison of God.' On the night of my tenth birthday I saw—”

“Ryan, we've known this kind woman about one fourth of an hour.”

“Our Lord is a Lord of fire,” Ryan said, “and woe to she who forgets it.”

Another awkward silence gripped the room.

“You know, Jessica,” Cody began, “I prayed for you last night. I didn't know it was you that I prayed for, because I prayed in tongues, but it was. You see, you are a smart woman, and a good woman. And what's coming won't be easy for you, but you will survive, and you will survive because Jesus will help you. I want you to remember when things seem impossible, or rough, that he is watching over you. That he is there to help you if you'll only turn to him.”

“I know it. And thank you for saying so.”

The sun sat on the mountains. Cody went on.

“Do you know what evil is, Jessica? It's not a big red man with horns. It's not a Nazi or an Iraqi or even a democrat congressman. It's the apathy to do what's right. As a mother, you will determine the fate of your son. And the only thing that makes that responsibility possible is the example set by the Holy Bible. When God looked down and saw the evils of men, the sins of men…. He knew in his infinite wisdom that another flood, another Sodom and Gomorrah, another tenth plague, he knew none of that would teach us sheep the lesson. He knew he had to make a sacrifice, the ultimate sacrifice. He gave us his Son, Jessica. His only begotten Son.”

The sun set.

“It is by his blood we are redeemed. And by his grace we live our lives. And by that sacrifice we may enter the Kingdom of Heaven. If the Lord could give his Son for us, then we must give our children to the Lord. So when I ask you if you know what evil is, I need to hear you reply that evil is when a good parent disobeys the Lord. When a good soul lets evil happen, because she is too afraid or too lazy or too self-centered to do a hard thing when she knows that thing is right.”

“I agree, I agree absolutely.”

“That's good, ma'am,” said Ryan. “That's good. It will make this all a lot easier.”

Jessica didn't understand. “I'm sorry, make what?”

“The Lord gives me warnings,” said Cody. “He tells me about the dangers that come to my fine town, and into my church. I keep my neighborhood safe.”

Ryan stirred. “Your son was born on June sixth, 2006.”

Jessica didn't understand.

“Six, six, six,” said Ryan.

Jessica spoke up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not—”

“Look at how you react! You fear the words because you already know the truth of them!”

“Look, I'm a good Christian, but that shit is—”

“Shit? Shit!” shouted Cody, furious. “You will not speak again! You are the whore of Babylon, a bitch of the devil, and I will not tolerate such—”

Andy Jr. began to cry again.

“Hear his wail,” Cody proclaimed, seemingly happy at being justified, “the voice of sin and profanity, enraged at the truth!”

Jessica ran to his crib and held him.

“Okay, you get out right now. You won't do an exorcism. Not on my baby, you'll hurt him. Now listen—”

“We won't. We won't do that. We didn't come to do that. It is clear, ma'am, that your son is the spawn of the devil's loins. And we are here to send him back to hell.”

“Leave or I'll call the police!”

“Gee, I must have never introduced myself properly. Ryan Sparks, Chief of Police for this little village.”

“Leave now!”

“We will, we will,” said Cody quietly, subdued. “Son, let's go to the car.”

In an instant they were gone. Andy Jr. stopped crying for a moment. Jessica held him close, breathing heavily. She was beyond scared. She did the only thing she knew to do. She grabbed Andy Jr. and prayed.

“Our father in heaven, I beg you. Protect my son. Protect my baby. Protect us from the men who wish us harm.”

She began to stutter; Andy Jr. began to cry again.

“Please, just please protect him. Let them see he's just a child. Let them change their minds. Please, God, don't let them come back. Oh God,” she pleaded, her voice quivering, “please save us from your followers.”

She began to cry.

“God, let Andrew come home and protect us. Protect his baby. Those men are Christians, Lord. Remind them not to do us any harm. Please! Don't let them come back!”

Five loud, slow knocks came at the door. Jessica suddenly realized she'd not locked it. She left Andy Jr. in the crib and ran up to the door. She reached out to lock it just as it burst open, hitting her in the head and knocking her out.

When she awoke she was bound with rope. Cody and Ryan stood over the crib, against which one had rested a rifle. Ryan was holding the lamp she kept by the crib's side in his right hand. Cody saw her stir and spoke.

“We had higher hopes for you, ma'am, that when the time came, you would let us do what we had to do in peace.”

“No, no, no, no—” She tried to get out of the rope.

“You'll be silent now,” said Ryan. “I don't want you to shout. You know there's only one house close enough to hear, and you should know that Margaret lent us the rope.”

“You're lying.”

“She comes to our church, Jessica. She told us when he was born.”

“No. No! You're lying, you're lying! She wouldn't.”

“Jessica, your mother Margaret is a faithful woman. And I think you know the truth.”

Jessica sobbed. She didn't have the strength to do anything else. Her head stung and ached worse than she'd ever felt before. The men turned back to Andy Jr.

“Come on, Dad, it's time. Let's do this here.”

“Let us pray.”

They closed their eyes. Ryan spoke.

“Lord, we have found thy enemy, and found the seed of the devil's loins.”

Cody started speaking in tongues. Jessica was petrified. Ryan spoke, eyes closed.

“As you asked Abraham, as you asked Noah and your own son in Gethsemane, we do thy bidding here today.”

Cody's voice grew louder, deeper as he shouted glossolalia.

“Praise Jesus!” shouted Ryan. “Praise the Lord God! Thy will be done!”

Ryan lifted up the lamp, hesitated, and brought it down on the baby's head. Cody stopped praying and picked up the rifle. Ryan struck the baby again.

“Praise Jesus!”

Cody crushed his ribs with the wooden stock.

“Praise Jesus! Praise the Lord!”

Ryan struck again and again, disfiguring the child into pulp. Cody erupted into tongues again as he grabbed the gruesome mess and crushed organs and bone.

“Praise Jesus!” Ryan shouted.

Jessica was screaming, but no sound came out. Ryan and Cody came out of their frenzy and nodded to each other. They held bloody hands.

“Amen.”

“Amen, Lord, amen.”

Cody and Ryan walked to the kitchen and washed their hands in the sink, dripping blood on her dishes and the baby's used bottles. Jessica stared across the room to the crib. She saw blood drip over the side. Ryan returned and knelt beside her.

“God will forgive you, Jessica. He will. Our God is a loving God, and he will hear you repent. He's gonna watch over you. As for us, we are watching you too.”

He cut her ropes and left, but she couldn't move. She tried to cry but couldn't.

Cody departed, and Ryan moved to close the door behind them. “Of course you are still welcome at church next Sunday.”

He left, and she heard their car drive away. She crawled to the bathroom and tried to throw up, but nothing came. She sat there, still and dazed, staring at the stray wet hairs and specks of grime on the side of the toilet bowl. She sat up against the bathroom wall and went numb, still and unmoving. Eventually she slept, shivering.

She awoke without any sense of denial. She knew what had happened. She knew it was real. In time she was able to stand. She looked in the mirror. She stared at herself. Tried to think clearly but couldn't. Then she spotted it. The cross on her neck.

She grabbed it and tore it off as if stung by it, threw it on the floor. It was dawn. She'd slept through the night. She absentmindedly looked to the clock on the counter. It read 7:59 a.m. She knew what was coming at 8:00. Andrew hadn't been able to call the day before as planned, to hear his son's voice. At 8:03 the phone rang.

It took all Jessica had to answer it. She didn't even think of how to tell him. She didn't think he'd believe her if she did. Thankfully he wasn't on the other end of the line. It was an operator.

“This is DSN. We have a call from Corporal Andrew Geki for Jessica Geki and son.”

She held still for a moment, thinking of any way not to tell him. She knew she couldn't do it, there was no way. She hung up the phone. The call was for her and her son. And her son wasn't home.

 

 

O
VER
MOUNTAINS
and frozen wastes, Vibeke trudged through the snow. It crunched with every step and built up before her, so deep that sometimes she had to sidestep the growing mass. She let it collect over and over out of apathy. She didn't feel it through her Thaco armor's fur, but she existed in those days in a constant state of frozen cold, body and mind.

She tried as hard as she could not to think. It was difficult in the near absolute silence, the muffling snow. She inevitably failed to clear her mind and focus on the vast unbroken surface, sparkling day and night even under the thick clouds.

The cloud cover was almost as bright at night as it was by day. After the sun set behind the dull gray sky, it began to glow like the fog atop a vast city. But there were no artificial lights. No city had lit up at night for weeks now. No net link had blinked. The power stations had been the first targets. Quark inversion plants, nuclear plants, geothermal wells, even solar intakes were annihilated.

Some batteries still held a charge. Anything plated in Valhalla gold was functional: her armor, her microwave, her Tikari, and the other Tikari. The Tikari that followed her like an unwanted puppy. With all the radiation in the air, it would never need to recharge. It would follow her for the rest of her life, and then…. The thought sickened her.

She thought about microwaving it a hundred times. Or sending her own to kill it, or smashing it with her boot the next time it landed on a rock. Sometimes she felt Violet's stare emanating from its eyes. The violating stare she was so averse to seeing from her. In those moments she was sure Violet was watching her through it. That only made her miss Violet more. She had craved another month of nothingness in which they could talk, link back and forth like the trip to Mars. Finally she had it, and Violet wasn't there. The link was offline.

She stopped under a dead tree where the snow was only half a meter deep and sloughed the icebox off her shoulders. She stretched her arms and rubbed her trapezius muscles. It was a damn heavy icebox. Hundreds of years old and made of hollow metal, courtesy of the Frasers. She opened it and dug out the old browning snow, then packed in fresh white matter from around her. Her only daily ritual in the last weeks. The snow didn't turn brown the way it did at first when it was full of blood. The blood was almost all gone. She closed the box and set it aside.