Tumultus (53 page)

“Don’t move, cowboy!  Stay very still!  You have one pissed off big bear looking at you!”

Cooper slowly turned around and looked up to see the polar bear staring back at him, no more than ten feet away. The blood of the seeker covered its snout and paws.  The mother bear inhaled deeply the air around her, taking in the rancher’s scent.  For nearly a minute the bear and Cooper Wyse stared back at one another, their breath forming small clouds of moisture between them.

Finally the mother bear shook her head from side to side several times and then turned and walked back toward her dead cub.  Cooper felt his legs grow weak beneath him, but before he fell, was grasped by the strong arms of the Russian, who allowed the rancher to lean heavily against him for support as they made their way back toward the church.

“Bear whispering cowboy!  Would not believe it if Yakov had not seen it with his own eyes!”

Cooper chuckled softly at the Russian’s enthusiastic description.

“That’s me, Yakov just your typical, everyday bear-whisperer.”

Just before reaching the steps of the church, Cooper Wyse passed out.  The Russian, feeling the rancher’s body go limp as he lifted Cooper over his shoulder, grunted a single word reaction.

“Pussy.”

LV. 

Three Days Later…

Mac Walker lay in a makeshift bed looking out a small window inside Father Riel’s church.  He had been put there late yesterday after falling from a chair and finding himself unable to get back up.  His body was shutting down.

The pain in his lower back came and went with increasing regularity, and his lungs no longer breathed so much as wheezed diminishing amounts of air through his mouth.  Mac was grateful to have still been on his feet when the group had gathered around the priest’s short wave radio to listen to the initial reports of drones falling from the skies all across the former United States.

Within an hour of those first reports, Mac was contacted directly by Royce Calhoun, leader of the Texas Resistance.  The emotion in Calhoun’s voice was evident as he described how hundreds of thousands of Texans had come out of hiding once the threat of the drones had been removed.  A human wave swept across the American states, pushing out the quickly fracturing remnants of the New United Nations.  Wherever a globalist flag once stood, it was replaced by the flag of America.

Calhoun also shared how even the massive structure of the New United Nations building in New York was overrun by people once again demanding their freedom.  A group climbed the thousands of steps to the very top of the structure where it had long been rumored the private residence of the Great Consulate could be found.  Inside that residence, so the story went, they found a small room which contained the dead body of a horribly disfigured creature.  It appeared the beast had been strapped to the floor of the room with a series of wire straps.  The thing had eventually cut through its own arms and legs to gain its freedom, though then likely bled out soon after. Clenched between the beast’s teeth was a pair of metallic glasses that appeared to be some kind of transmitting device.  Initially, no sign of the Great Consulate was found.

Weeks later, the recorded contents of that transmitter were unlocked, and the final moments of the former Great Consulate’s life were discovered.  He had sat directly across from the creature, poking at it repeatedly before the monster finally lunged at him, its limbs ripping through the wire constraints as its incredibly large mouth clamped down over the Great Consulate’s throat.  The most horrific part of the footage though, was the viewpoint the glasses provided of the attack.  The Great Consulate was able to watch himself, through the eyes of the creature, be eaten alive.  Even more disturbing was that the audio of the footage left no doubt that the Great Consulate found the experience to be intensely pleasurable.

“Mac, you did it – all of you.  That virus ripped right through the entire system.  Their vehicles were dead, their defense systems no longer functioning.  The entire power grid crashed.  There’s been some rioting in places, and I’m sure some New United Nations personnel have been dragged from their offices and, well, there’s gonna be some ugliness.  A whole lot of people have a whole lot of pent up frustration.  Overall though, it’s been the start of a relatively smooth transition.  When people looked up and didn’t see a drone coming at them, they re-discovered their courage.  They started to remember what they had given up.  We really are taking this country back.  God bless you, Mac. God bless all of you.”

The former defender of Dominatus sat silently for some time after receiving Calhoun’s message, unable to put into words the joy and pride he felt in knowing he and his friends helped to free so many from the tyranny and evil they had been living under for so long.

Even as he lay in bed, feeling the life steadily moving out from his body, it was that joy that sustained Mac during the pain and discomfort of his impending death.  It gave him both comfort and relief, knowing his was a life lived, rather than a life wasted.

Father Riel sat next to Mac and asked if he would be willing to receive last rites.  Mac rolled his eyes at the priest, chuckling at the request.  His voice replied in a croaking whisper.

“You are one tenacious priest, aren’t you?”

Father Riel smiled down at Mac, taking the dying man’s hands into his own.

“The choice is yours, Mac, but I do believe it may provide some comfort to those you care about, those who will remain after you are gone, that your soul was at peace, that you were right when your moment came.”

Mac smiled at the priest’s words, realizing how similar they sounded to those spoken to him by the Old Man during a recent dream.

“I’m not a Catholic, Father.”

‘That is fine, Mac.  The church has long allowed a certain degree of discretion with such things.  If it is the wish of the dying to be given ministration, we are duty bound to do so.”

Mac closed his eyes again as the pain in his back and hips once again took hold.  Normally the pain subsided after a few seconds, but this time it persisted much longer, causing Mac to cry out softly.  Father Riel’s hands remained clasped around Mac’s.

“It’s ok, Mac, I’m here with you.”

Finally the pain began to fade, allowing Mac to open his eyes again.

“You think it’ll make this easier for the others?  For Dublin?  She buried her grandfather just two years ago and now she has to watch me like this.  I…I feel guilty about that.”

“I do believe it will help her to more easily accept your passing, Mac. Her and the others, yes.”

Mac closed his eyes again, considering the priest’s request to administer to him the last rites.

“Ok, Father.  Go ahead.  If you think it will help the others…go ahead.”

Later that afternoon, as the sunlight began to fade toward impending darkness, after drifting in and out of sleep for several hours, Mac Walker awoke to find Dublin’s hand holding his own.  He was reminded again that the girl he had protected for so many years had grown into a beautiful, strong, and intelligent woman.

“I love you, Mac.”

Mac attempted to respond with words, but found the effort to speak too great.  He could simply look back at Dublin and nod.

Father Riel sat next to Dublin, his low voice soothing and relaxed.

“You are surrounded in love, Mac.  Reese and Bear are here, as well as Cooper, Yakov, and Khalid.  We are all here with you in this, just as God has always been with you, Mac.  Always and forever.”

Mac nodded his head as tears slowly traced faint lines of moisture down his cheeks.  He heard Dublin begin to cry quietly next to him, and fought to try and comfort her, but again, found himself too weak to do anything more than close his eyes and focus on taking another breath as the priest’s words continued.

“Mac, your suffering is but temporary.  In suffering, you are now joined in God’s everlasting peace and Christ’s great mercy.  You are absolved of all sin and welcomed into the kingdom of heaven.  I commend you, Mac, to almighty God.  We deliver your faithful servant, Mackenzie Walker, to you now, Lord.  Receive him.  Remove his suffering from him.  May he find the one Truth, and know everlasting life.  Amen.”

Dublin placed her head against Mac’s chest and gently hugged him as her body shook with sobs.  Mac managed to raise his arms just enough to place them around Dublin so that he could hug her back as he again attempted to speak.  Finally his lungs produced enough air to allow him to form the words.

“Dublin…it’s ok.  It’s ok.  Don’t…be sad.  Please.  I love you.  I love you so much.”

Mac Walker’s body continued, as it had done its entire life, to fight.  Dublin and Reese both sat next to him, and even though Mac’s eyes remained closed and he gave no indication of understanding their words, they spoke to Mac long into the night.  Dublin told Mac of how much her grandfather admired him, and how she had, when younger, thought of Mac as some kind of indestructible super hero.  Reese cried as he recalled the time Mac first introduced him to Dublin inside of Freedom Tavern, and how the former Navy SEAL had warned Reese to  treat Dublin right – or else.

Shortly after midnight, Dublin looked out the window nearest Mac’s bed and was stunned at a night sky lit up with the most beautiful array of colors she had ever seen.  During her time in Dominatus, she had watched the Northern Lights many times, but the display on this night in Churchill, Manitoba was beyond anything she had witnessed before. 

“Reese – look at that!”

Reese rose from his chair and looked out the window, his eyes growing wide in amazement as he witnessed the massive display of illuminated green, red, and purple light stretching across the sky.

Mac’s breathing suddenly worsened considerably as his chest heaved upward and then remained there for several seconds, before falling again.  After nearly a minute of no movement, Mac’s chest rose again, and then fell.

As Dublin and Reese silently watched his final moments of life, Mac’s eyes suddenly opened, appearing to stare at the swirling lights that continued to slash across the otherwise dark canvas of the Manitoba night sky.  A faint smile formed on Mac Walker’s face as he continued to look out through the window, until his chest raised and then lowered one more time while he whispered a final word.

“God.”

End.

The Irish Cowboy: A story of love, loss, and redemption...