The sudden revelation almost completely paralyzed Toni's mind. Too many questions, and way too sudden. How had Antoine found out about his disappearance? From TV? Possible. How had he found out about Darkwater? How could he make them provide him with a helicopter? But none of that mattered anyway, didn't it? How did Antoine know his letter would reach Toni at all? A desperate attempt? How long has Toni been burning? The ring of fire ate at the center of his body and the smell of rubber had been joined by that of scorched flesh and boiling fat.
Antoine's efforts were useless.
No use any more.
It was too late.
Toni had already had this realization several times, and in its absolute truth there was no sting left to torment his soul. Slowly but surely his anger gained the upper hand over his despair.
What were these childish, naive "freedom fighters" actually thinking? Did they really believe that they could burn an angel of the Lord and get away with it unpunished? That they would get away with dragging a god down to themselves in the dirt without having to pay a price?
His gaze fell on the radio tower. Somewhere in the big house there had to be the corresponding transmission station. His body ran and stumbled and still rolled zigzag across the square, he had no power over it, and at the moment he could see nothing. Strangely enough, he became colder inside, even though he was burning. His arms were stuck in the tire. That, too, should prolong his agony, he would not have been able to wipe it off anyway, not even if his arms had been free. In this way the fire had to eat its way through them before it could reach his sides. Toni was horrified by the thought of having to take control of his martyred meat again. Then he would fully feel the pain. That alone could be enough to kill him, even if the fire had not yet reached his organs. But the fucking Indian fakirs could too. Switch off pain and still be able to act.
Elephant skin.
Ganesha, Eliminator of all obstacles.
Radio mast.
Cowardly excuse.
He didn't even know where he was. Then what would he be sparking? How would he get past the men who watched his flesh melt?
Childlike joy.
He was a speaker, not a warrior, not a fighter.
And a fighter without arms was worth nothing anyway.
Speaker.
Preacher.
Wrong priest.
The great seducer.
The snake.
Lord of all lies.
Words that were Azrael's legacy, and much more that he couldn't sort out swirled around in Toni's head. The vortex became faster and faster, became a torrential, extra-terrestrial stream that flushed Toni away. He thought he was drowning in thoughts, longings and regrets and desires and guilt and greed and formlessness. It was too much, and it grew more and more. Way too much, and when Toni had finally gone mad, it suddenly stopped.
And then he just did it.
He returned into his body and let the pain go. He could smell his own fire stench. He felt something dripping down his legs.
Liquid rubber?
Feces
It didn't matter anymore. Now it was only a matter of using the only chance for a last act of revenge as long as it still existed. No other thought was left. He forced his body to stop running.
So he stood there, in the middle of the square, screaming out his pain. He certainly screamed for a minute, two minutes, three minutes. But eventually he stopped. His unbound will made it possible.
They had never seen anything like that. Their faces were pale with fear. No one here was roaring or yelling out his enthusiasm.
Awe.
That's true reverence.
Through the thick black smoke rising from the burning tire, Toni looked at the general who stood in front of the open entrance to the main building into which the cable of the radio mast led. Slowly Toni walked towards him and this cousin whore Imani in eerie silence. Six times he fell his knees on the way there, and six times he stood up again. Then he was right in front of them. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was an almost silent caw.
"You cannot kill me, for I am Raphael, the healer. You can't kill me because I'm Azrael's son. You cannot kill me because I am God's will. I'm not like you. I'm energy."
Toni himself didn't know if he believed in what he said, but it didn't matter. His words were powerful in that second, and each of them seemed like a blow with a machete. Imani, who had clung to the general's muscular arm as Toni had approached, fell to her knees and crossed herself. About half of the others followed this example. The rest just stood there gawking.
The general himself tried to drag Imani back to her feet at first, but then took several steps back as Toni came even closer. Toni saw that in panic he tried to pull the pistol out of his belt. Toni didn't care. He was already dead anyway. He walked past Imani and the general and then on towards the entrance.
The shot hit him in the right shoulder when he was already in the house. The general had indeed had enough guts to shoot at a supernatural being. Toni also welcomed this new pain. It meant nothing to him. Soberly, he noticed that the bullet had come out again in the front. Then he slowly turned backwards. The general was still after him.
Bend your knee, worm! Despair!
When their eyes met, Mobanta lowered the weapon along with his courage, unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to move.
Toni walked on.
The angle at which the cable hung down from the radio mast had told him that the transmitting station had to be very close to the mast. He quickly found it in the small room next door to the shabby main room. He looked over his shoulder. On his way into the house he had set some dirty carpets and bast mats on fire. As he effortlessly pulled his arms out of the burning and now partially fused car tire, he saw that the flesh of his forearms was almost completely burned. He tried to move his fingers, but he couldn't, although his hands had surprisingly remained untouched by the fire. Toni burst into terrible laughter. He was still laughing when he operated the toggle switch with his chin, that switched the radio's table microphone to talk mode. He mixed words into his laughter.
Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle. Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle. Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle. Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle. Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle. Six times I fall. Six cabins in a circle.
Then he kept laughing. And then he laughed even more insanely when he noticed the large map on the wall. The location was marked. Through the smoke it was not easy for Toni to recognize the correct coordinates. But when he finally succeeded, he kept giving longitude and latitude until he heard a helicopter in the distance.
He laughed one last time in the certainty that Antoine and the Americans would come upon the General and his men like the demons he had longed for less than thirty minutes ago.
Then he couldn't laugh anymore.
Then he couldn't do anything.
The Gospel of Madness will be continued in book 5.
Circle of Wagons: The Gospel of Madness (Book 4 of 6) (The Gospel of Madness - (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series)) Page 31