by JD Dutra
The masked figures stared at a man who paced slowly from one side to another near the foot of the strange pyramid, the chanting came from him. He was dressed in a white ceremonial robe and cloak, wearing a golden mask like the others, and his head dress was a nemes pure white in color. He held an ankh, the symbol of life in the shape of a cross and loop in one hand and the chain of an incense burner on the other. Its long metallic rope was connected to a golden sphere that swung below his knee, giving out a constant stream of thick white smoke. As The Vessel stopped a few feet from him, the man in white raised his arms and stopped his unsettling mantra.
In one fluid motion, the dark figures standing on the steps of the pyramids opened their arms and began chanting an incantation of their own, their arms raised in from of them, palms facing out towards The Vessel. There was blood on their hands, it was wet, fresh. The white priest opened his arms and nodded slowly at the Vessel, who felt compelled to walk towards him.
The priest began to walk around The Vessel, moving his incense burner from one side to another, bathing him in a cloud of white smoke. The air smelled of frankincense, myrrh and something else that tingled The Vessel’s throat and lungs. The man in white then raised his ankh, touched it on the forehead of The Vessel, praying in mystifying words that The Vessel, himself, couldn’t understand. He then touched the ancient symbol of life onto his chest, then his navel. The Priest then moved to the side and pointed towards the pyramid with the golden ankh in his hand.
“You may now climb the steps that lead to our god,” said the Priest in English. His old and gravelly voice and had a foreign accent so heavy, The Vessel almost didn’t understand what was said.
The masked shadows at the steps of the pyramid raised their blood stained palms as The Vessel walked towards them, and with every step up the pyramid that he took, one of them reached down for his hands and pulled him up onto the next step, they were all voicing the same incantation over and over again. By the time The Vessel was halfway up the pyramid, his hands were completely covered in fresh blood.
He kept on climbing and being pulled up the steps of the pyramid and as the top started to become visible, the shape of a red cloaked man began rising smoothly from the opposite side, without the help from anyone. It was as if the red man could levitate himself off the ground and float towards him. The Vessel’s heart immediately started fluttering inside his chest, as the supernatural sight crippled all his other senses with a stunning jolt of fear. Whether what The Vessel had just witnessed was real or perhaps an effect of being bathed in the priest’s smoke, he didn’t know.
The vivid red cloak and robe couldn’t hide the massive frame of the man who stood before him, he was wearing a golden mask more spectacular than any of those The Vessel had seen before, and it resembled that of a Pharaoh’s. His headdress was a Pshent crown, the combination of the red crown that represented Lower Egypt, and the white hedjet, representing Upper Egypt. It was a large and opulent ornament that seemed somewhat snug on the figure’s massive head. The towering man in red opened his arms, he held a stripped gold and copper blue flail on one hand, and a shepherd’s crook decorated in the same manner in the other.
The Vessel immediately kneeled and kept his head low on the cold stones of the pyramid. All chanting and intonations from below ceased suddenly. The Vessel felt the presence approach him, and something cold and hard began slipping around his neck, forcing him upwards in one smooth motion so powerful, The Vessel felt it would separate his head from his body if he were to lose his balance. The red cloaked man held one end of the shepherd’s crook, the loop side was ceremoniously around The Vessel’s own neck.
“Voice your desire,” said the red man.
Without hesitation, The Vessel responded, “To serve thee, my God.”
“As the true God of this World, why should I allow you to serve me?” The red cloaked man’s deep voice was accented in the same manner as the priest’s.
The Vessel repeated the line he was told to memorize, “Through sacred knowledge, the architects of this world have opened my eyes and I’ve accepted the blood of this generation onto my hands. I desire to bring vengeance upon humanity for the transgressions made against thee,” then he slowly showed his blood stained palms to the red man as he had been told to do at this time.
The red man’s eyes gazed at the bloody palms for a moment, then he removed the shepherd’s crook from The Vessel’s neck and passed the object onto his other hand, to pair up with the flail. The red man extended one large hand forward, The Vessel took it in the ceremonial grip he had been taught to give.
“Do you solemnly swear to be the hands of my will?” Said the man who called himself the God of this world, his strange accent coming in full display from behind his golden mask.
“Yes.”
“Do you accept the power I am about to give you and all responsibilities it brings?”
“Yes.”
“Do you give yourself willingly unto this oath knowing pain, then death will come unto you and your loved ones if it is broken?”
“Yes.”
They let go of the grip, and the red man placed his free hand on the back of The Vessels neck, leaning into his ear, he spoke from behind the mask, “I hereby task you with the cleansing of the North American continent, and along with it, I give you power over all armies, governments and the citizens herein to ensure my will be done. You are to rule it under my command as The Vessel of my will.”
The Vessel nodded once and answered, “Thy will be done, oh God.”
“To seal my blessing and commandment upon you, find the man who stands in your place before the world and take his life as an offering to me,” said the man behind the golden Pharaoh’s mask and he reached for a dagger on his hip, pulling it out. The long, thin ceremonial dagger was ornately decorated in gold with ritualistic Egyptian hieroglyphs and images. He then placed it into The Vessel’s hand.
The Vessel took the dagger and felt the blood on his hands stick to the cold metal hilt.
“My God, I am thy Vessel and I shall deliver thy wrath upon all thine enemies.”
The Vessel bent his knees and curved himself before his God. The red man raised the flail and shepherd’s crook in the air then spoke his ritualistic approval in an ancient and sacred tongue now lost to common men. The dark shapes on the pyramid steps, the white priest and those who brought The Vessel unto the place of his exaltation began raising their hands and chanting in the same language. They sang in unison, praising their God, and the newest instrument of his fury.
Chapter 37
Maryvale Village, Phoenix, Arizona
Sunday, October 25th, 2020
7:21 P.M.
Saucey-Sauce was feeling very ill. His vision was blurry and his coughs were getting more and more intense. Jimmy had made him stay behind at the Oneita’s apartment and watch her, while he took the rest of his crew to make the exchange. He was sitting on Baby Ray’s chair already tired of his hostage’s complaints about everything.
“I can hear that damn girl vomiting all the taquizas all over the bathroom, Jimmy will have to clean that up when he gets here cuz I ain’t doing it,” said Oneita. She was bound to one of her newly acquired dining room chairs with duct tape and when she looked at the chair next to her, it still had pieces of duct tape on it as well. That’s where they’d kept her man and beaten his handsome face and the sight of it flared up her anger again, once more she tried to force her arms free but she couldn’t.
“Oh shut up!” Saucey-Sauce yelled without looking at her. Shaking his head, he went back to drinking and flipping the channels on what Jimmy called his new flat screen, but almost every station was off the air. The lights were off in the apartment and the blue light of the TV gave his sick face a ghostly pale look.
“Let me go Saucey-Sugar, Sauce, or whatever your name is… I need to go after my children, their case worker never answered the phone, I have no idea which foster home they’re at, cut me out of here and let me go find my babie
s!”
“You’re staying right there, so get used to it… And shut your mouth once and for all!”
“Oh I ain’t shutting up, I hope that bastard Jimmy dies out there… After all Baby Ray and I have done for him these past few days he turns on his own cousin… How dare him!”
“I said shut… The hell… Up!” He and threw the beer he was drinking at Oneita. From his awkward position it hit the floor near her high heel platform shoes, shattering the bottle and sending a small wave of beer and glass all over her legs and feet.
“Oh you bastard! How dare you throw a beer at me in my own apartment?”
Saucey-Sauce got up and started to walk slowly towards her. Oneita got louder, “If I wasn’t bound to this chair I’d get up and beat the hell out of you!”
As he stood in front of her, he looked like he was dying of the flu. There was fluid in his eyes and blood inside his mouth. He smelled terrible, not only body odor but something entirely different, something that matched the smell coming from the bathroom.
His face was twisted with anger, she looked away, the fear of what he would do to her was like a bucket of ice cold water on a small fire. His back blocked the dim moonlight that shone through the window and his shadow cast over her. He broke off a piece of the duct tape and as he brought it closer to her face, she tried to look away.
“Gimme yo mouth, I am tired of you yelling!”
She twisted and turned, and he tried to grab her head but he needed two hands to apply the tape. She now pushed her face down, trying to tuck her mouth in between one of her large breasts and shoulder.
Suddenly she felt the tape being applied to her forehead, right over her eyebrows. The initial shock of it made her pause, and gave him just enough time to press it into place then slap it twice, to make sure the glue was really stuck onto her skin.
“What are you doing —” Oneita screamed in pain when Saucey-Sauce yanked the silver duct tape off her head, and along with it came most of her eyebrow makeup and hair. “Get away from me you bastard!” She screamed, but it wasn’t loud enough to top his howling laughter.
He began to step back slowly as he laughed in between coughs, wanting to take a better look at her. His eyes kept switching between the duct tape and her face.
“Let’s see the fat clown without her makeup on, look up over here, let me see your face!” He managed to say in between hysterical laughs.
Oneita wanted to look away, but her anger made her move her arms again and suddenly she thought the tape was coming loose.
I’m gonna kill him with my bare hands, right here where he stands. Mamma Rosie, forgive me for what I’m about to do.
She looked up to him, and he had his hands on his stomach from laughing so hard. He reached up to his bandana to dry his tears with one of the two red ears of it that dangled on his forehead.
“Oh man… You are a joke, you and your man are two clowns, Jimmy is going to kill —”
Oneita heard another shot outside, and Saucey-Sauce’s bandana flew off his head towards the wall. Immediately something warm sprayed across her face and eyes, the reflex made her shut them and look away as she heard the loud sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
Once she opened her eyes, Saucey-Sauce was on the floor, there was a dark pool of blood that looked black, spreading from his head. Oneita saw something yellow and pink on his head, like a lump of fat and meat trims at the supermarket. There was a hole where his eyes and forehead should’ve been. She looked to where his bandana had flown and there was a wet spot on the wall, a mix of clear fluid and blood. The bandana slid down the walk, leaving a wet trail on the dirty paintwork.
She began mumbling to herself, “Oh please, help me, I’m a good person, I swear I am, I don’t deserve to die, my only sin was to have a disability… Baby Ray, is that you, did you come to save me my baby? Who did this?”
The door to her apartment was kicked open and she began to scream. Two men walked in, wearing dark suits, no ties, just colorful silk shirts underneath. One had what Oneita’s favorite politicians called an assault weapon and he moved it around the room as if looking for someone to shoot, the other had two black pistols, one on each hand pointing straight at her.
Oneita looked at their faces, the men were white and she didn’t recognize them, but one looked meaner than the other, she had never seen that look of anger and adrenaline on anyone’s face but Jimmy’s.
She began to cry louder as the men moved through the apartment in silence, clearing the place. One of them went behind her, probably to look at her bindings, then both of them went down the small hallway. When they got to the bathroom, Oneita heard the door open and the two men began to speak to one another in a language she immediately recognized as Russian.
“Oh Mamma Rosie I can’t pay for your sins right now, not now, not those damn Russians again, Mamma Rosie please I’m begging you…” She said in between sobs as tears began to roll down her round cheeks and onto her multiple chins.
Oneita looked in their direction and as they closed the bathroom door they almost looked more sad than angry, one of them made the sign of the cross over his chest. They turned, and began to walk towards her, the steps of their heavy shoes on her linoleum floor echoed loudly now when everything was so silent.
The white man with the assault weapon stood watch by the window, and the one with the two black pistols came closer to Oneita. He kicked Saucey-Sauce’s legs out of the way like a soccer ball and stood where the body once was.
“You must be Oneita,” he said, his accent was heavy, calm and his voice raspy. He began to run one of his pistols over her cheek slowly, fondling her. “I can tell you are Oneita. They’ve described you to me. You are hard to miss.”
She looked away in fear. “What do you want from me? Mamma Rosie is dead,” Oneita said while the tears continued to stream down her face, she tried to control it but the urge to cry came in strong waves.
“Mamma Rosie? The name sounds familiar, but I’m here for the box you and your friends stole. Your people are meeting with mine as we speak, but I just wanted to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind. A little bird told me the box is still here so… Where is it?”
She thought about lying to him, but the look on his face and the touch of the gun instantly discouraged her. “I’ve been bound to this chair. The box used to be in the bedroom, but now… I don’t know what Jimmy did with it, Sir, please let me go…”
The man in front of Oneita walked away from her for a moment, he went into the bedroom and she could hear him tossing everything in there. It took him less than two minutes to go through her small bedroom and come back.
“I found a lot of junk, and the box, but it’s empty. So they took it all did they?” The man began to run the pistol over her cheek again, the steel felt cold and it smelled of gunpowder. He ran it over her lips, and when she turned away, he lowered his hand, sliding his pistol in between her large breasts, aiming the barrel directly over her heart. His deep voice became even softer but more sadistic, and he said, “You don’t want to have a hole in your chest, the size of the one in your friend’s head, yes?”
“I don’t, please, I’m telling you the truth, I know nothing, Jimmy went crazy! He bound me and Baby Ray, oh please let me live!”
“Maybe you need a little more incentive to tell me what I want to know. Let’s go find a nice place for us to make you talk,” he said as he moved behind her. Oneita felt a blade sliding in between her arm and the duct tape, poking and raking her skin along the way.
“Please sir, let me live I ain’t got nothing else to say to you!”
“Oh I am sure you do. Get up Oneita.”
She got up slowly, her large palms in the air as if holding an invisible barrier between herself and the man.
“I don’t want no trouble Mister, please…”
“Shut your mouth and walk towards the door and don’t even think about taking off running. No one can outrun a bullet… Especially you.”
; From his hiding place, Daniel saw a large black woman walk slowly down the steps of Raymond’s apartment, he recognized her as Raymond’s girlfriend. The two men that showed up minutes before who had rushed the door in silence, were now behind her, guns drawn. The apartment complex was silent, it was as if everything was taking place at 3 A.M., but it was not even 8 P.M. They shoved the large woman into a black car with no license plates and drove off.
He looked from one side of the complex to the other, everything was silent. He ran out of the alley, crouching down, shotgun at the ready in front of him. He stayed in the shadows and climbed up to Raymond’s apartment as quietly as he could.
The barrel of the shotgun went in first and he followed behind. He scanned the room in silence, but he saw no one but a dead man with a hole the size of an large orange on the front of his face. The apartment smelled of filth and mold, like it hadn’t been properly cleaned in years, mixed with the same smell of decomposing bodies that seemed to linger like a dense fog outside. Daniel moved slowly, trying not to make any of the old boards under his feet announce his arrival. There was no one in the kitchen or in the pantry and when he got to the bedroom, he saw it had been tossed, there were clothes, food and electronics everywhere.
When he got to the bathroom, his heart started to beat faster. It was the only place in the small apartment he hadn’t been. There was absolutely no sound coming from it.
My kids are either not here or they are dead.
He opened the door slowly and his soul plunged into a pool of agony. His older daughter was sitting on the floor, her back rested against the wall, his youngest son Nick was laying on his side, resting his head on his sister’s legs. His little boy was in his pajamas, his daughter had a sweatshirt on but her lower body had been stripped down to her underwear. Both of them were barefoot. There was vomit on the wall and floor and on half of the toilet, some of it mixed with what could only be blood. Daniel realized his little boy wasn’t breathing.