CATACLYSMOS Book 1 Part 3: The Deacon: A Post-Apocolyptic Serial Thriller

by Michael Lister

  When he turns the light back on her, she’s holding a large hunting knife in her right hand.

  She’s frightened, but she’s feral too, and he wonders how long it has been since she’s been around other people, wonders what all she’s had to do to survive. How has she survived?

  —I have some food and water to share. I truly mean you no harm.

  She lets out a noise—something between a grunt and a growl.

  —Let me get you some water. Sounds like you could use some.

  She seems to consider it but doesn’t say anything.

  —I’m here trying to find my daughter. Her car is out there on the highway. I’d like to ask you some questions, but if you’re too afraid to talk to me, I’ll back away and let you go. It’s up to you.

  He begins to back away slowly.

  —Wh . . . she begins breathlessly. Where . . . you . . . come . . . from?

  Her voice is not only small but her mouth and throat are dry, the sounds she’s making alternating from airy to the parch-mouthed smack of skin sticking together.

  —Atlanta. I’m from Wewa, but I was in Atlanta when all this started.

  —Wh . . . What . . . is . . . it?

  —What is what?

  —This.

  —An REM song, he says.

  —A . . . Wh . . .

  —It’s the end of the world as we know it. But I don’t feel fine.

  —Wh . . . caused . . .

  —Wasn’t just one thing. I don’t think. I don’t really know.

  —I . . . keep tryin’ . . . to wake up.

  He nods.

  —Me too, he says. Worst nightmare ever.

  —You’re really not one of them?

  —One of who?

  —Them. The . . . Lefters.

  —I don’t know who that is. I’m not one of anyone except me.

  —What’s your daughter’s name? What was she driving?

  —Meleah. The dark red Mustang. There’s blood on the airbag.

  —They have her. She broke her nose when she wrecked.

  —Who has her? he says, his pounding pulse pushing the rush of adrenaline through him. She’s alive?

  —Give me some water and some food and I’ll tell you, she says. Try anything and I’ll cut you up good.

  He hears her but all he can think is She’s alive. My Meleah is still alive.

  2

  —It’s safest in the restroom, she says when they reach his bags and he’s getting her water.

  He hands her the small bottle.

  —Drink it very slowly, he says. If it comes back up you’ll be worse off than you are now.

  She nods, but still drinks faster than he thinks she should.

  —Why is that? he asks.

  —Huh?

  —Why is it safer in the restroom?

  —There’s a passage behind the paneling that leads outside. Can’t get trapped.

  —Then let’s go in there.

  She nods and begins to walk in that direction.

  After he has lifted all his bags again, he follows.

  —How long have you been out here on your own?

  —Nearly the entire time. I guess I was with the Lefters about a week or so in the beginning, but been here ever since.

  Her voice sounds better already, but he tries to keep her talking so she won’t drink too fast.

  —What’s your name?

  —I’m nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody too?

  —I am, as a matter of fact, he says.

  —Then there’s a pair of us. Don’t tell. They’d banish us you know.

  —We’ve already been banished, he says. And there’s no longer an admiring bog.

  —Oh yeah there is. The Deacon is a frog with a thick fuckin’ bog.

  —The Deacon?

  —The prick who has your daughter. He’s the leader of the Lefters.

  They walk into the bathroom and he turns on his light and closes and locks the door. She positions herself against the back wall and holds the knife out in front of her with both hands.

  Placing his gun back in the bag, he withdraws a can of green beans and the can opener from the other bag and hands them to her.

  She hesitates, but eventually takes them, keeping the knife in one hand as she does.

  He sits across from her, his back against the thin, hollow wooden door.

  With the knife in her right hand, she awkwardly opens the can.

  —I understand you being cautious and think it’s a good thing. I’ve seen some very bad things since all this began, but I’m as far away as I can be from you in this small room. I’m unarmed. And I’ll hold my hands behind my head. Just don’t hurt yourself with that knife and slow down. Don’t eat so fast.

  She seems to relax a little.

  The small, dingy bathroom is dry as a bleached bone and long past smelling. The bare concrete floor is cool. Above the cracked porcelain sink with the pink highlighted blond hairs in it, an unframed mirror hangs on the wall—something he’s avoided so far.

  —When you can, tell me what you know about what happened to Meleah.

  —Let me finish eating and I’ll tell you everything.

  He nods and waits, looking more closely at the necklace dangling down from her neck. It’s a simple chain with an antique-looking ring on it.

  She’s alive. Meleah is alive.

  3

  —The Deacon is a dangerous man, she says. So are the Brothers. Very. Nothing more dangerous than a self-righteous religious fanatic.

  —They part of a religious group?

  —They believe what happened was the Rapture and that we’re now in the Great Tribulation.

  The Rapture and the Great Tribulation are part of Fundamentalist Christian eschatology based on a literal reading of the Bible. This type of Christian Millennialism is the result of misinterpreting and then cobbling together various passages from both the Hebrew Bible, particularly the Book of Daniel, and the Christian Scriptures, particularly the Book of Revelations. The simpletons and superstitious, the literalist and uneducated who subscribe to this form of Fundamentalist fairytale believe that Jesus will come down in the clouds and call his chosen to him—both living and dead—and that they will go back to heaven with him while a terrible time of tribulation will be unleashed upon the earth, after which time Jesus will return and reign as king for one thousand years.

  —So they actually believe they missed the Rapture, he says.

  Millennialism teaches that those left behind were not right with God—even if they thought they were—and are being given seven years in which to repent and get right with God before it’s truly too late and they’ll spend eternity in the torture of the lake of fire.

  —Yeah, for not being pure enough, not being strict enough, she says.

  —You called them Lefters, he says. Because they were left behind when the Rapture happened?

  —Uh huh.

  —Do they call themselves that or is that just something you—

  —They call themselves Disciples.

  He nods.

  —Deacon’s got ’em convinced God has turned what the devil meant for bad into good, she says, that they are here for a purpose. They can miss the Great Tribulation if they will just follow the Deacon and do what he says. They’re on a mission to be as pure as possible and to save as many others, making them as pure as possible too.

  —How?

  —Their discipleship program. The Deacon preaches all the time—is always getting new revelation revealed to him from God. He shares it and his gang of thugs, the Brothers, enforce it.

  —They use force?

  —When necessary. Mostly it’s all done by manipulation. He’s very persuasive. But yeah, the Brothers use force so the Deacon doesn’t have to.

  —And they have Meleah?

  —They got everybody from the pileup. The Deacon actually hid the bodies of the ones who died in the wreck and told everyone the crash was caused by the Rapture, by some drivers being caught up
out of their vehicles.

  He recalls the oft cited passage from Thessalonians. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord.

  What’s the other passage they use for the Rapture? Oh yeah.

  As in the days before the flood they were eating and drinking and marrying and giving into marriage until the day Noah entered the ark . . . and the flood came and took them all away . . . so shall the coming of the Son of man be. Then shall two be in the field . . . the one shall be taken, and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill . . . the one shall be taken, and the other left.

  —His followers are just afraid, she’s saying. It’s a scary fuckin’ world. They’re listening to the only man around who says he has the answers—and he’s so certain, so sure, so convincing because of his conviction. And a lot of his followers already believed some form of this type of Fundamentalist end-time religion anyway. He just had to convince them of their secret sin that kept them from joining Jesus in the air. Which wasn’t hard to do.

  —No, I don’t imagine it was.

  —Can I have a little more water? she asks.

  He finds some and gives it to her.

  —You were part of this group? he asks.

  —For a little while. I wasn’t given a choice.

  —How so? How do you know so much if you were only part of it for such a short while?

  —Because, she says, the creepy, charlatan cocksucker running the whole thing is my stepdad.

  4

  Daylight.

  Dew on the ground.

  Compound.

  He hasn’t seen dew since this all started. Here, it’s on everything—all the surfaces are slick with it.

  Michael and Nobody are lying on the roof of the country store. Michael is studying the Lefters compound through binoculars. Nobody is beside him sketching with the nub of a No. 2 pencil in a composition book full of her artwork.

  The Deacon had taken over Clarksville Baptist Church and its parsonage.

  The small, white wooden country church is on a large lot—the entirety of which is surrounded by semi tractor-trailers. The trailers, many of them with the semis still attached at jackknifed angles, have been jammed in end to end, chain link welded to the inside to form a formidable fence.

  The trucks and trailers all came from Shelton’s Crossroads about ten miles or so up Highway 73, which gives them an evenness and uniformity that adds a certain aesthetic to the makeshift enclosure.

  Inside the compound a network of RVs, campers, tents, storage containers, animal stalls, and gardens form a community centered around the small, white church.

  Across the little road from the compound sits a small cemetery. Neglected now. Overgrown.

  —My mom’s buried there.

  —Sorry, Michael says. Did she die before all this began or—

  —During, she says, absently reaching up and touching the ring hanging from her neck.

  —How’d it—

  —Her heart was weak already, then the stress of all this shit, but mostly it was because that prick blamed her for him missing the rapture. Said she had never let him follow God like he knew he needed to, that she had always held him back. What she had done was serve him hand and fuckin’ foot every moment they were together.

  —I’m very sorry.

  She doesn’t respond.

  —Was that her ring? he asks, nodding toward it.

  She frowns and nods.

  —It’s all I have left of her.

  —Why’re you still here? Why haven’t you moved on?

  —To where? she says. Besides, the Deacon and I have unfinished business.

  —What do you plan to do?

  —Expose him.

  —Can you wait until I get Meleah out safely before you do anything? he asks.

  —Waited a while already. Little longer won’t hurt.

  He looks around the compound again.

  —I can’t figure out how to get in, he says. How’d you get out?

  —Used to be a little gap in the fence in the back right corner. They fixed it after I left. The only way in or out now is the front gate.

  —Shit.

  —I can tell you how to get in. It’s easy. Getting your daughter and getting out . . . that’s gonna be the hard part.

  —How do I get in? he asks.

  —You get rid of all your stuff, you lose the camo pants and boots, and you just start walking down the road. Let them find you. They’ll invite you in and try to convert you.

  He’s about to say something when the front gate begins to open.

  An armed escort walks a pale, chubby, blond-haired middle-aged man out of the gate and onto the road.

  —That’s two of the Brothers, Nobody says.

  The Brothers were young militant-looking men with closely cropped hair and serious firepower. They wore black paramilitary-type uniforms decorated with random Christian iconography on them.

  —So all she has to do is get banished, he says. If she hasn’t already.

  —She hasn’t. I’ve been watching. No one has in weeks. But she won’t anyway.

  —Why’s that?

  —Look at the guy being banished. He’s a fat, lazy lump of lard. Young pretty girls don’t get banished.

  The two thugs walk the excommunicated man down the road maybe a half mile or so as he pleads with them not to make him leave.

  Coming to an abrupt stop, the Brothers pull their weapons off their shoulders and point them at the pale man.

  It’s obvious he doesn’t want to, but he keeps walking. Slowly. Hesitantly. Continually looking over his shoulder. Begging. Pleading. Bargaining.

  Eventually, the Brothers turn around and walk back to the compound and disappear inside.

  —If he won’t banish her, Michael says, I have to find a way to get in and get her out. How many Brothers, are there?

  —Too many for you to break her out. Think of something else.

  He thinks of going back to the compound Lyle and Teesha mentioned to him for reinforcements. Maybe even to Marianna for Augustus. Be nice to have backup. Even a shooter up here in case things don’t go as planned.

  Be a lot better to sneak her out. Doesn’t run the risk of her getting shot unintentionally.

  —Will you draw a diagram of the compound for me? he asks. Label where everything is.

  —No problem, she says, and immediately flips the page and starts on it.

  —Would you be willing to help me? he asks.

  —What am I doing now?

  —With the escape. Would you be willing to create a diversion?

  —I have grenades, she says.

  —Grenades?

  —Took them from the Lefters’ arsenal. The Deacon had us using them on those things in the woods for a while, but there was just too many of them.

  —Grenades will work great. Are you sure you can—

  —I’m proficient as fuck with ’em. Won’t hurt anyone I’m not supposed to—including myself.

  —Let’s don’t hurt anyone. Let’s just—

  When Michael looks back up, he sees the chubby banished man jogging as best he can back toward the front gate of the compound.

  —Look, Michael says. He’s back.

  Nobody looks up.

  —Stupid motherfucker, she says softly, genuine pity in her voice. You don’t get a second chance. He knows that.

  —The Lord is my shepherd! he’s yelling as he approaches. I shall not want! He makes me to lie down in green pastures! My cup runneth—

  When he’s within twenty feet of the front gate, his head splits open not unlike the way Kennedy’s had, not unlike the way Michael’s would have if he hadn’t eluded the sniper.

  A spray of blood in the air above and behind him, the sound of the shot as he crumples in a sad fat heap on the asphalt.

  Michael’s stomach lurches and he feels like he’s going to vomit.

  The m
en who have Meleah are even worse than he realized. Far worse.

  He begins praying for her. Sincerely. Naturally. Fervently.

  So easy and automatic when it’s for her.

  The gate opens again and another pair of Brothers, this time in a small truck, come out. Wasting no time, they quickly lift and load the body into the back of the truck and speed away, driving around the pileup and heading east on Highway 20, disappearing from view in a matter of less than a minute.

  —Let’s start over, Michael says. Tell me everything you can about the Deacon, the Brothers, the Disciples, and the compound. Everything. No matter how small it may seem.

  5

  He is picked up on the road and taken into the compound and directly into the small sanctuary where a service is taking place and the Deacon is speaking.

  It’s evening. He and Nobody had spent the entire day making preparations for the breakout, including securing another semi tractor-trailer rig from Shelton’s and hiding his stash of supplies and weapons in an old Ford pickup they plan to use in their escape.

  Doing his best to appear docile, submissive, and a little lost, Michael sits quietly and listens intently, shrinking down into the pew as much as possible.

  He mostly maintains eye contact with the Deacon but as he is able, he takes in the people and the place.

  The Deacon is not what he had expected.

  Young. Fit. Groomed. Bright-eyed. Well spoken. Clearly educated.

  He’s wearing a suit that appears tailor made, but only because of how well he wears it. His light brown hair is cut close and fixed simply. His mesmerizing blue eyes are both intense and empathetic.

  —I believe we make this notion of repentance too complicated, he is saying. It’s not complicated. It’s simple. To repent means to change—change your mind, change your direction. You’re thinking one thing. You realize it’s wrong. You change your mind. You think something else. Simple. Not easy to do necessarily, but simple. You’re heading in a certain direction. You realize it’s wrong. You repent—you do an about-face and head in the opposite direction. It’s that simple and difficult.

  The sanctuary is small, simple, austere.

  The Brothers are spread throughout—two on the platform with the Deacon, two at every exit, a few on the front row, some scattered throughout the congregation.