by Black, D. S.
Rusty pushed Billy up against the operating table, Billy’s belt buckle clicked against the metal’s edge. The dead man jerked and moaned on the table, trying with all his might to careen its teeth to bite Billy. Its teeth clicked together, its eyes burned a white cauldron of hellfire, a blackened diseased smell came from its mouth; Billy started to cry.
The hot fluorescents burned down on them like Broadway spotlights. Rusty Ray spoke: “Do you see that creature there? Do you know what its purpose is?”
Billy said nothing; he only listened with fearful breathing.
Rusty continued. “It's purpose is to serve God, our Holy Father. Do you know what your purpose is Billy?”
This time, Billy said, with his throat pressed against the blade tips. “To serve God.”
“That’s right, Billy. We have two choices. One is to serve the City of Flesh, the other is to serve the City of God. When you seek out fleshly desire, such as licking that whore and feasting on the hope of satisfying your sinful sexual desires, you are not seeking the City of God, Billy. You are seeking the City of Flesh, the City of Sin, the City of Man. And that domain is only temporary. The City of God is eternal.”
Billy said nothing; he wept, his tears dripped and plopped onto the dead man’s jerking leg. The creature continued to howl like a demonized wolf, the woman on the floor still lied without a sound, except for soft breathing; Rusty Ray continued as he pressed the tips of his bloody scissors deeper into the soft flesh of Billy's throat. “My mother was a holy and devout woman, Billy. She served the Lord her whole life and made sure I read all the classics, everything written by the early church fathers and the saints. There are a couple of passages that I am very fond of. It's quite fitting for the evil that has befallen you and this city. It was written by St. Augustine in the year 410, in his divinely inspired City of God.”
Rusty Ray’s eyes closed as he began to speak; he’d practiced this sermon countless times:
“Two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by the love of self, even to the contempt of God; the heavenly by the love of God, even to the contempt of self. The former in a word, glories in itself; the latter in the Lord. For the one seeks glory from men, but the greatest glory of the other is God, the witness of conscience. The one lifts up its head in its own glory; the other says to its God, "Thou art my glory, and the lifter up of mine head." In the one, the princes and the nations it subdues are ruled by the love of ruling; in the other, the princes and the subjects serve one another in love, the latter obeying, while the former take thought for all. The one delights in its own strength, represented in the persons of its rulers; the other says to its God, "I will love Thee, O Lord, my strength."
The hungry cries of the zombie on the metal surgery bed screamed out. Its eyes bursting with white flame and its face turning pale like a fleshly ghost with hints of decaying green. Its lips curled up above the teeth and the mouth clicked open and shut, trying like hell to break free of the leather head restraint. Rusty Ray pressed the tips harder against Billy’s throat and poor little Billy stained the front of his pants yellow; his salty terrorized tears gushed from his eye sockets. Eyes that were filled with utter terror. Eyes that stared at the creature that so desperately wanted to eat him alive, and the cold breath that stank of rotting gut and stomach acid plumed into his face; Billy vomited the hot contents of his stomach out onto the zombie's crotch.
Rusty Ray never lost a verbal step, holding Billy in place “And therefore the wise men of the one city, living according to man, have sought for profit to their own bodies or souls, or both; and those who have known God "glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened; professing themselves to be wise,"—that is, glorying in their own wisdom, and being possessed by pride—“they became fools and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, four-footed beasts, and creeping things." For they were either leaders or followers of the people in adoring images, "and worshiped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever." But in the other city there is no human wisdom, but only godliness, which offers due worship to the true God, and looks for its reward in the society of the saints, of holy angels as well as holy men, "that God may be all in all.”
Rusty took in a deep breath and exhaled above Billy’s head. The dead man howled and jerked against the restraints, violently wanting to tear into Billy. Billy’s tears continued, pouring, dripping onto the dead man’s jerking body, streaming down the dead skin, onto the metal table; then streaming down and plopping into the blood-filled collection trays.
Rusty Ray felt what he considered the power of God running through his veins. His adrenaline pumped strength into his lungs and vocal cords. He was alive and living for the Lord, just like his mother told him to. If she could see him now, if only she could see him now. God almighty, only if she could see him now!
Rusty Ray took in another deep breath and continued, “but the earthly city, which shall not be everlasting (for it will no longer be a city when it has been committed to the extreme penalty), has its good in this world, and rejoices in it with such joy as such things can afford. But as this is not a good which can discharge its devotees of all distresses, this city is often divided against itself by litigations, wars, quarrels, and such victories as are either life-destroying or short-lived. For each part of it that arms against another part of it seeks to triumph over the nations through itself in bondage to vice. If, when it has conquered, it is inflated with pride, its victory is life-destroying; but if it turns its thoughts upon the common casualties of our mortal condition and is rather anxious concerning the disasters that may befall it than elated with the successes already achieved; this victory, though of a higher kind, is still only short-lived; for it cannot abidingly rule over those whom it has victoriously subjugated.”
Rusty Ray’s heart trip-hammered in his chest; his mind was on fire with the image of him as the new St. Augustine. He’d made his mother proud; if she could only see him now! He was the Lord’s new and most important representative left on earth; he knew that for sure. He’d always knew that. He always knew that voice that whispered into his ear while he slept as a child, was not some crazy creation of his subconscious, but the voice of God. The Voice. The Voice that told him he’d one day stand against all the evils of this world and stand as God’s earthly judge against the wicked and the powerful; it would be him that would show them that that power was nothing more than a pathetic paper tiger when confronted with the real power that only came from Christ and the mighty Trinity of God and the Holy Ghost! His time had arrived and now he spoke so loud that it overshadowed the screeches of the zombie; Rusty's voice echoed off the walls. His eyes burned with holier than thou tenacity; he stared into the hot light of the fluorescent bulbs with eyes bulging out like he’d been shot in the heart with a dart filled with adrenaline; red veins on the white of his eyes pulsing, his pupils dilating, growing large and strange in the white light; he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt— he was staring at the eyes of God. He screamed out loudly and proclaimed the final Augustine passage with busting gust; as though Christ himself set in the corner judging. “But the things which this city desires cannot justly be said to be evil, for it is itself, in its own kind, better than all other human good. For it desires earthly peace for the sake of enjoying earthly goods, and it makes war in order to attain to this peace; since, if it has conquered and there remains no one to resist it; it enjoys a peace which it had, not while there were opposing parties who contested for the enjoyment of those things which were too small to satisfy both. This peace is purchased by toilsome wars; it is obtained by what they style a glorious victory. Now, when victory remains with the party which had the juster cause, who hesitates to congratulate the victor, and style it a desirable peace? These things, then, are good things, and without doubt the gifts of God. But if they neglect the better things of the heavenly city,
which are secured by eternal victory and peace never-ending, and so inordinately covet these present good things that they believe them to be the only desirable things, or love them better than those things which are believed to be better, if this be so, then it is necessary that misery follow and ever increase.”
Rusty stopped and took in a deep breath. The dead man howled; Billy wept, the black woman on the floor began to wake up.
Billy’s pants were stained dark yellow. Rusty pressed the blade a little deeper against Billy’s throat; the light above glowed bright in Rusty’s dark pulsating eyes; Rusty's voice dialed down to a low and smooth whisper. “You see, Billy. We live in a City of Flesh ruled by hypocrites that use the name of God to control the inhabitants. These rulers are arrogant and put all their faith in human reason and wisdom. Duras and Mary Jane are sinful deviants and their time is coming. Billy you still have a chance, if you are willing to turn your mind toward the gates of the City of God. Duras marches to war with the barbarians in the wilderness; and this, this, my dear Billy boy, is the moment Duras's foolishness catches up to him. His fleshly desire for revenge and conquest has driven him out of the city, leaving it for us to retake in the name of the one true God, and make it the true City of God. There is one thing that Duras is right about. The rapture was never a real thing. There is another six years of torture for those still living and breathing and we must endure and follow God’s way. Duras and Mary Jane have fallen in love with all the desires of Earth and taken many with them, but us the Seekers? We seek out the City of God, Billy.”
The groan of the half-conscious woman caught Rusty’s attention. He let Billy go and ordered him to go fetch little Todd Zacker and have him come back and take the zombies to the holding area.
“Sure … sure thing … I’m sorry. I will seek only the City of God. I promise.” Billy said.
“I believe you. Now run along. I am ready to get this next sacrifice underway.”
3
An hour later, Rusty Ray was peeling off his blood-covered apron and changing into his brown monk robe. The woman proved an easy sacrifice. She screamed a bit, but didn’t fight nearly as hard as he expected. He was ready for a bath and a meal; it’s what he always did after a sacrifice.
After his bath, Rusty was to meet with a Militia representative—Lieutenant Thompson. He’d met the man a few days prior and was just biding his time till Duras ran off on his little mission in the woods. Ever since the attack on the gates, Rusty knew this was the time to act.
As Duras was preparing for the attack on Okona, Rusty went to his final meeting with the Militia; creeping silently and unseen out of the city, and moving stealthily to the old warehouse. The old warehouse was a rusted and battered building that once served as a mill many years ago. It had been shut down after the jobs were sent to China during the nineties, but none of this went through Rusty’s mind as he approached the building. He saw no walkers, but did see the Militia’s Hummers; Rusty smiled. Everything was going as planned. Soon he’d teach Duras a lesson in godliness.
Standing in front of the building, his arms crossed, flanked by two men with insane eyes and large guns, Lieutenant Thompson waited with a smile.
“Welcome Rusty. It’s nice to see you again. Let’s go inside and discuss the situation. I’m anxious to hear what you have to tell me.”
Inside, they found an old abandoned office with battered chairs and a desk that had seen better days. Thompson took the position behind the desk, pulling his seat up and plopping down with natural authority. The room smelled of ancient dust and mold; the heat lingered, so Thompson ordered one of his men to open the office window.
“Much better. Nothing like a cool summer breeze, wouldn’t you say Rusty?”
“Certainly, God’s clean air cleanses the body.”
“Pull Rusty a chair up, Piper!”
A chair was pushed behind Rusty, and he fell involuntarily into its seat. For a moment, a look of fearful confusion worried his face. The room suddenly seemed very small, and he realized just how alone he was. Around the building Thompson’s men had created a perimeter and here he was, stuck in the middle of a possible death trap. Rusty’s realization that this might have been the biggest mistake of his life had come a bit too late for a change of plans. Good or bad, he was here and at the mercy of Lieutenant Thompson. He had to play bold and brave, and pray for God to see him through this ordeal. For a moment thought, Rusty wondered if God was standing by his side at all. He then pushed that ludicrous thought away, breathed in, let out a light laugh, and then focused in on what needed to be said.
“I can hand you a city, a defendable city. One that will bring power to your Militia.”
Thompson leaned back in his chair; it let out a loud squeal that sent shivers down Rusty’s spine. Thompson looked at his fingernail for a moment, then look up with eyes that nearly caused Rusty to piss in his underwear.
“What makes you think I won’t torture you for any information I need? You seem to be playing a game, Rusty; I don’t like games. So, just tell me what I need to know.”
Rusty felt his balls shrivel up, but he made himself stare directly into those cold, hate filled eyes. To Rusty, those eyes symbolized terror and pain; the worst horrors ever to exist. They were devil’s eyes, forged from the very fires of Hell. Rusty could only hope that he could use his position and knowledge of the city to persuade Thompson of his worth. “Without me, you will not defeat Duras.” This came out not in the way he had hoped. He wanted to sound sure of himself, confident in his words, tone and rhythm, but instead, he sounded like a scared child speaking to a scolding parent who saw past his attempts at guile. None the less, Rusty swallowed hard, and tried again. “Duras is many things, but a complete fool he certainly is not. Take caution if you move without my proper knowledge. Perhaps you should radio ahead and ask your captain what you should do with a man that is offering you the keys to the City of God!”
This final attempt to reign in the dark stare he was receiving from Thompson was not planned. But, the threat was clear. He would turn to Thompson’s superiors if the man didn’t back off. That was of course, if his bluff kept him alive at all.
The Lieutenant sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay. We’ll do it your way.”
For a moment, Rusty believed Thompson’s words. For a split second, the man’s eyes had looked kind and forgiving. Then Rusty yelped like a dog as Thompson lunged like a wild cat, grabbed him by his brown cloak, and deftly removed a short dagger from a leg sheath, and pressed the tip against Rusty’s throat. “If I find out you are lying to me, I will shove this dagger into your brain. Do you understand, Holy Man?”
Hope came back to Rusty’s soul. It seemed the Lieutenant was just playing the role of tough guy. He just wanted to let Rusty know who was boss. OK. That was fine, at least for now, Rusty could play along. “You’re a most agreeable man indeed. Just listen to what I have to offer.”
The Lieutenant let Rusty go, who fell back into his seat with a whoosh. Thompson then listened to what Rusty had to say with a stern poker face. Even with a light night breeze coming in from the open window, the air around Thompson was thick and palatable, as though his presence brought its own atmosphere—one made of darkness and supernatural evil.
“Duras has a weakness. He is obsessed with a man that lives in the woods. They’ve feuded on and off for nearly a year. I have no idea why, but I do know it’s how we kill him.”
The Lieutenant pushed back into his chair, laced his hands behind his head, relaxing. “I’m listening.”
“Duras is getting ready to attack. He’s going to burn them out. We must be ready when he does. The city will be open for the taking.” Rusty crossed his arms smugly. He’d given the Lieutenant the key to the city. A chance at easy victory.
“Can you show me on this map where the people in the woods are?” He pulled a map out of his front pocket, unfolded it, and slid it over to Rusty.
Rusty studied the map for a moment. “I can’t say
for sure, but somewhere in this vicinity. It’s just an estimate based on what I’ve heard Duras and his men saying. The best way to know would be to follow Duras. If you hurry, there is a chance you can do so without him knowing. At least not till it’s too late, and you’re on top of him.”
Thompson motioned for Rusty to hand the map back to him after marking it with a pen. Thompson carefully folded the map, and slid it back into his front shirt pocket.
“Do you think I am going to keep you alive for helping us?”
Rusty felt a ping of panic. He fell back to the only recourse he could think of. “I think that is for your captain to decide, Lieutenant!”
Thompson smiled at Rusty’s attempt to intimidate him with Cap. Rusty had no way of understanding just how far from safety he was and hope he’d taken himself. He had no idea of the madness running through Thompson’s mind.
Rusty looked at him sternly, and putting on a calm yet authoritative tone: “Think about something for a moment … consider how religion benefits the Militia. Think about how it benefits your captain. You need men like me to facilitate the introduction of stable society. It is how we maintain power over the remaining population, and fulfill the purpose God honored us with.”
“I hear you. I just want to make sure I understand you correctly. You are saying: this Duras guy is going to march out of his gates with all his men and go play in the woods?”
“Exactly! And that’s when we must strike!”
“I agree, Rusty. I’ll send Piper out with a team out and bombard the poor bastards with artillery.”
Hope, destiny and greatness leaped from Rusty’s eyes as he jumped to his feet, and pounded his fist on the table. “We will bring back the Glory of God! Mark my words Lieutenant! Together we will conquer the world all over again.”
Thompson smiled, and then said: “What’s all this we stuff?” The Lieutenant showed Rusty the dagger, which he had taken from its sheath without a sound. “What makes you think I need you? Or your pathetic fucking religious bull shit? I never liked your kind before all this, and I sure the hell don’t like you now. You misunderstand the purpose of the Militia. My Militia.”