Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ

by Brandon Messerschmidt

"Three at the gate - The Priest among them!" A guard armed with a barbaric medieval looking battle axe hollered over the walls of the Wormwood community.

  Jennings and the Jacksons had been greeted by men with weapons drawn as they approached the place, the construction looking old and rustic though Terry swore there had been nothing in this space before. The people that had surrounded the travelers after they passed through the mobile of corpses looked like characters out of a renaissance fair more than citizens of the twenty first century, but with man's technology rendered useless a return to the implements of the dark ages seemed only logical.

  The men were dressed from head to toe in leather armor, finely crafted by the hands of artisans without the aid of automated sewing machines or stitchers. On their sides were long sheaths in which magnificent swords of valor rested between conflicts, eager to awaken and cut through a field of unwelcome strangers.

  They looked as dirty as one would imagine people living in the woods would be, and they smelled the part as well. A malodor permeated the air, though no longer consisting of the scents of rotting flesh and maggot chewed tissues. All of Wormwood reeked of sewage, once again the stench that defined humanity as no more than a band of sophisticated animals at play in the fields of the gods.

  Michelle still smelled of Chantilly; the scent of old woman that Terry loathed with a passion seeming a welcome diversion from the foul wind blowing from this place. The three looked entirely out of place, the Jacksons still wearing their best travel clothes and Jennings in his priestly garb.

  The scene had been tense, at first, these new sentries examining the three of them from head to toe as though combing over them for signs of some disease. They studied Michelle's diamond earrings closely, Terry warding them off with a menacing glare in return.

  Having found no signs of whatever they were looking for, one of them shouted clear before allowing them a step closer to the gates.

  The strangers seemed to know Jennings but apparently didn't trust in him enough to grant clear passage to his guests. They were questioned at length about their origin, intentions and religious alignment before being ushered into the expanse of the compound.

  The fields within the gates were muddy with patches of compressed grass strewn about randomly. An overcast sky made the world look gray as smoke billowed from charred embers in spots where fires had clearly burnt, the air smelling of hickory in their wake.

  There were buildings sprouting from the land all around, yet spread at great intervals from each other, preserving an open wilderness feel that would've surely made this a popular camping facility before the walls fell on society. It more closely resembled a refugee camp, now, with its collection of bone-thin settlers moving about sheepishly in tattered rag-like garments.

  Livestock wandered free as well, largely wool-dressed lamb with a few cows thrown in for balance. They looked sickly somehow as they grazed on the remaining patches of green, bleating and mooing aloud as an anachronistic facsimile of life unfolded all around them.

  "How many people live here?" Terry asked as they walked passed crowded cabins, souls stacked ten deep within. They peered nervously out glassless windows at the strangers in their midst.

  "Several thousand." Jennings answered. "More than this place can sustain."

  "You said they rely on this Blood Fountain, but it seems they have enough livestock to feed them for a while. Why are they so famished looking?"

  "The creatures are ill - the flesh is rotten upon their bones. When the cows produce milk it spoils immediately within the bucket. They've become no more than pets, now -- the sheep a source of fabric for clothing; no more."

  "And this fountain provides no nourishment beyond what they require to survive?"

  "So it would seem... I have never seen it erupt or taken any sustenance from it. They tell me they feel as though they're full after its feeding, but their bodies still seem to starve. None have died as a result, but most are very weak. I'm told the leaders, however, seem none the worse for wear."

  "Who are these leaders?"

  "It's a family - there are three of them, I think. The Alexanders. An older couple, and their daughter. They were among the party that discovered the geyser in the fight I told you of... they must've been business people, I guess, before this all began. They control everything about the place... who gets in, who is sent off to die... I don't know how they've managed to keep such a tight leash on things, given the circumstances. The people here follow them without question; often fighting and dying to defend the colony at their behest while they simply relax in the comfort of the Grand Lodge -- right there."

  Jennings pointed to a large building on the horizon, a magnificent looking structure built of massive logs and masterfully finished beams. It was heavily guarded, several beefy men adorned in more elaborate metallic armor than the ruffians at the gates watching over it. They were armed with pikes honed to a deadly point at one end which were trained to the sky as though poised to challenge Heaven to a duel.

  "Sounds like they've got a good thing going for them." Terry remarked as they continued their walk across the landscape.

  "At the expense of all the others, yes. In times like these only the strong survive, and there is something about that family that has the others convinced their strength is unsurpassed. It seems to me that the common people living here are enough in number to overthrow them, if they so desired -- even in the face of the army of guards that they have rallied for themselves."

  "What do you think it is about them that gives them dominion over these people?"

  "I can't say -- I've never met them, nor seen them out and about. They seem to keep to themselves in that lodge, perhaps for fear of such an uprising."

  "In your talks with the people, did it seem that one was brewing?"

  "Strangely, no... the people I've spoken with seem to regard The Alexanders as their saviors. They could've barred the doors and kept the fountain to themselves, as futile as the effort would've been once others learned of it. They welcomed these people, however... chose them among all who sought entrance... it's almost as though the people here are privileged members of an elite society, though the conditions don't reflect such prestige. They are honored to be allowed in this place -- to suffer and waste away in the shadow of the fountain's glory."

  "Father, you said these people needed to hear the word of The Lord." Michelle broke in. "Why? Besides the possibly lop-sided social system you've described, they seem to live in peace with each other. What change do we seek to bring through the gospel?"

  "Things here are not as they seem." Jennings answered forebodingly. "There are many -- problems here, chief among which is the fact that The Alexander’s army seems to unilaterally choose who will be fed, for lack of a better term, to the fountain. Most of the people sacrificed are apparently the weakest among them; unable to defend themselves against their own slaughter. Those that take nourishment from the fountain are essentially feeding on the suffering of the ones sacrificed to it. The people seem to have an affinity for the Alexanders as I mentioned, but they harbor a deep hatred and contempt towards each other that has led to a witch-hunt mentality among them. They are presumptuous in the face of God -- judging one another based on their interactions and rallying around the murder of those whose lifestyles they don't condone."

  "They seek to play God over their domain." Michelle surmised.

  "Exactly. Then -- there's the problem with the Crimson Ash."

  "The what?"

  "When the fountain erupts it paints the vicinity of the geyser in a red substance. It's liquid at first, resembling blood - hence the name - but eventually dries into a flakey powder that has an intoxicating effect on those who ingest it."

  "They're using it as a drug?" Terry asked.

  "Yes -- they claim it allows them to see into the kingdom of God. Many here are addicted to it, though the army tries to salvage and destroy any traces before they fall into the
hands of the people."

  "This too offends The Lord?" Michelle inquired.

  "The visions that they experience are not His work... I believe they are images generated by a darker force. When under the influence of this Ash people become violent and deranged - carrying out unholy acts that do not flatter The Lord. God punishes them with a terrible plague - highly contagious and deadly. It starts in those who indulge in the Ash but can be contracted by any among them... it threatens to destroy the colony. This mark must be erased from them if they are to be saved."

  "And you're asking us to mend this? That is our assignment from The Lord?"

  "Essentially, yes."

  "What is to become of them -- of us if we fail?"

  "The same that shall become of everyone that refuses to follow The Christ." Jennings looked around as they walked as though to ensure no one was listening before he whispered to the Jacksons. "The hand of God is closing around the Earth... a ring of judgment is sweeping the globe in the form of walls of fire as tall as the sky! The circle is closing in on itself and incinerating everything and everyone that does not move from its perimeter. I've watched it destroy countless strongholds very much like this one. I tried to solve the issues that God had with them and get them to walk the path he has laid out - but I've failed each time. Man's resolve is strong, even in the face of death. Changing the ways of a society of many is a herculean undertaking and not a task easily accomplished. Despite my best efforts, they refused to change in their ways of sin. As a result, they were destroyed... all of them. It's closing on us -- right now, as we speak, it's moving to destroy this place as well!"

  "So once we've cleansed their sins we have to convince them to leave this place?" Terry asked.

  "And it won't be easy; they won't readily abandon the fountain for the promise of fighting for survival in the wilderness."

  "You say this -- this circle of fire is closing." Michelle said, apparently a bit too loud as it caused Jennings to shush her. "Where is it pushing us? Where does it want us to go?"

  "I'm not sure." The priest responded. "The Lord hasn't told me anything about it - he's simply taken me to the places where it is and sent me to work with the people. I imagine it will eventually close around the space that he describes as the new world. Only those that move with it shall survive, I'm afraid - though I have no idea what is waiting for us there."

  Jennings slowed as they approached a field of strangely colored stone far from any of the buildings.

  "There it is." He said, pointing to a massive crater in the stained rock. "The Blood Fountain."

  "Ohhhh myyyy God..." Terry gasped at the magnificent site, almost holy in its wonder.

  A thin red fog danced around the crevice like a hazy band of angels, the sound of bubbling liquid deep within the Earth wheezing out an opus for the finite survival of mankind. The ground seemed to undulate as The Jacksons approached the orifice, rocking them gently in its arms and injecting a false sense of comfort that helped them understand the people's attraction to this place.

  "Be careful!" Jennings advised. "It is entirely possible for you to fall in!"

  Terry fell to his aged knees on the stones, running his hand across their grimy orange surface. They felt warm; almost alive. He smiled as he slid closer to the geyser, the Earth seeming to communicate with his soul in a tongue resembling whale song emanating from the deep that rattled his body and attuned it to nature's vibration. Bold in the moment, he moved close enough to run his hand along the inner edge of the crater.

  "It IS alive!" He explained through his grin. "I'm sure it is! I can hear it's song!"

  "Intoxicating, isn't it?" Jennings asked. "I imagine that's the Ash working on your nervous system. It doesn't seem harmful in small, indirect doses... when they snort it, however -- that's a different story."

  "Amazing." The Misses added. "It calls to me... it wants me closer to it - but I'm afraid. Should I be scared of it, Father?"

  "I'm not sure... it seems to perform miracles for these people, but it asks for so much in return. I can't say whether it's the work of God - or something else all together. I can't recommend that you marvel at it for long, though -- I don't know what extended exposure to the fumes will do."

  Jennings turned and walked away from them as they admired the spectacle, Michelle spinning around at the sound of his moving feet.

  "You're leaving us now, Father?" She asked.

  Jennings stopped, but only briefly, to respond.

  "Yes... I must go... I have many more people to reach, and I'm afraid I haven't much time to do so."

  "Where are you going now?"

  "I'm not sure." He hesitated. "This is God's journey -- I'm just along for the ride."

  The husband and wife watched as he strolled off casually, vanishing suddenly in a ray of light that left an impression in their fields of vision like the flash of an old camera.

  "Come on, T.J." Michelle began. "We've got a lot of work to do if we are to help these people."

  The couple left the pseudo-hallowed site behind, moving back towards the cabins and the murky sea of humanity gathered there. They first structure they came upon bore a sign describing it as the Mess Hall.

  As they rounded the corner of the building they were ambushed by two men, one grabbing each of them and dragging them through a squeaking door as Michelle screamed out. Terry landed on his artificial hip, sending a nauseating wave of pain through his body.

  "Shut up!" The goons ordered, shoving the elderly couple to the concrete floor inside.

  It was dark and stank of mildew and mold, not another soul inside to offer aid. Terry got his first look at their attackers - young and scruffy men with a maroon stain covering their mouths and the area of their noses. There were strange lesions there as well... puss-filled blisters on their cheeks that looked as though they could explode at any minute. The skin around them was irritated, a dark ring encircling them, and the flesh stretched tight over the abrasion. Their hands were afflicted as well, presumably the whole of their bodies under their ragged smelly clothes.

  "Give us the fuckin' jewelry, lady!" One ordered as he produced a switch blade knife and worked its mechanism. "And old man - make with your wallet!"

  "Lord, what's happening?" Michelle cried out.

  "It's a fuckin' robbery, lady - now give up the shit or die!"

  Terry dug into his pants for his wallet, having no attachment to the paper or bits of plastic inside that were worthless there and then. Michelle, however, made no attempt to remove her earrings -- staring back defiantly at them instead.

  "You shall not have my jewelry." She said calmly to the goons. "They were gifts from my husband... my T.J... I refuse to let you take them."

  The robbers looked at each other and laughed before the one with the blade dove down by her side. Pressing the cutting edge to her throat he threatened further recourse.

  "I guess you didn't hear me, bitch..." He growled. "I said this is a robbery! Now are you gonna take them pretty rocks out of your ears or am I gonna cut 'em out for ya'? Either way, they're mine now!"

  "Now hold on!" Terry shouted. "There's no need for violen--"

  "No." Michelle interrupted. "You will not have them!"

  The thugs looked at each other again, shocked at her insolence in the face of death.

  "Alright, lady." The aggressor said. "Have it your way!"

  Suddenly the man took hold of her left ear lobe with his icy hands, stretching it out as she winced in pain. With a lightning quick swipe of his blade he had severed it from her head, blood spurting out upon his hand as he cradled the precious gem and hunk of flesh, the woman screaming in agony.

  "No!" Terry cried as he tried to get up and fight the man, his bum hip not allowing it. The second attacker sprung into action regardless, jumping on the defenseless man and pinning him to the ground.

  The savage knife-wielding assailant stretched her right ear now and l
opped it off with the same ferocity with which he had maimed her before. Michelle howled again, raising her hands to the gushing wounds and the robbers fell back towards the door.

  "This is your fault!" The mangler yelled in a hysteria as he looked upon the beaten old souls. "All you had to do was give them up!"

  "Jesus, Eddie -- LOOK!" The second mugger whined, pointing at his partner's hands.

  Both of them watched in horror as the man's fingers put off smoke; a foul smelling wisp arising from one of the drops of blood upon them. The viscous liquid seemed to corrode his flesh, sinking down into his palm until the bone was visible within.

  "Ahh! It burns!" The man bellowed. "Tommy, what the fuck?"

  "Drop 'em! Drop 'em!" The other yelled, the thug obliging by tossing Michelle's earlobes and their jewels to the ground. Still, he found no respite from the pain, his flesh charred where the rocks had been and continuing to dissolve.

  "Jesus!" Terry cried as he watched them in their terror.

  Michelle sat up, still cupping her ears though she no longer cried at the suffering. She seemed to fiddle with them briefly before lowering her hands, revealing perfectly formed lobes below.

  "I told them they wouldn't have them!" She claimed, victorious in her pride.

  The men turned and bolted for the door, pulling it open then freezing in their places. An arm invaded the space from the other side, swinging like a home-run king with a shining cutlass in its hand.

  The knife wielding thug was decapitated in one fell swoop, his head bouncing off the concrete with a splat as his lifeless body curdled to the ground. The second fell to the ground as well, spreading his arms to his side and begging for mercy.

  Two of the guards they'd seen around the Grand Lodge stepped in, scanning side to side for signs of other attackers. Seeing no one but the Jacksons, they stepped to either side of the door. A third guard entered, quickly snatching up the living robber and dragging him out of the building. Stepping through the doorway the two broke to the right, revealing a queenly looking woman in the space beyond.

  "My, so messy!" She said daintily as she entered, stepping with poise over the corpse in her tread.

  She wore a flowing violet gown looking Victorian in its design and adorned with gold and jewels the likes of which Terry had never seen. A large yet subtle black hat complete with lacey veil covered her silky silver locks which were pulled back neatly into a bun behind her head. She looked healthy in contrast to the others they had beheld, her form the epitome of feminine yet hearty in its nature.

  The scent of freshly cut roses overpowered the terrible stench as she moved slowly towards the Jacksons on the floor. She paused before the jewelry and curtseyed down to pick them up, taking them between her cashmere enrobed fingers and holding them up between the light and her deep aqua eyes.

  "Splendid!" She exclaimed, examining the stones with an expert eye.

  She waltzed to Michelle's side and took the liberty of placing them back into her ears before offering her hand and helping the woman to her feet.

  "I'm very sorry about that, Misses Jackson." She said. The woman looked back to the guards with anger before she scolded. "I told them not to take their eyes off you... incompetence! Sheer incompetence, I tell you!"

  The men lowered their heads in shame at the woman's judgment.

  "I'm sorry, Misses Alexander." One of them returned. "I only looked away for a sec--"

  "A second too long!" The woman finished. "These people are insane, boys!" She continued. "I told you to look out for our guests of honor! You should've been more careful!"

  "Yes, m'am..."

  Terry looked upon the woman from his place on the ground as she and Michelle exchanged bright-eyed smiles.

  "What in God's name is goin' on here?" He asked, still aghast at what transpired.

  The women turned to him and approached to offer assistance, extending their hands.

  "Mister Jackson." The regal woman called. "Such a pleasure to meet you finally!"

  Terry took her hand though he doubted she possessed the strength to pull his large frame from where it had landed. To his surprise, she was in quite solid shape despite her age; guiding him up without an ounce of trouble.

  "Allow me to introduce myself." She continued. "My name is Sandra Alexander, I am the empress of this community."

  "Empress?" He asked.

  "I do apologize for the actions of my subjects - they grow more uncivilized each day."

  "Name's Terry." He said., uncertain. "This is my wife --"

  "Michelle." Sandra interrupted. "Surely I know, you big silly! We've been expecting you for some time now."

  "You have?"

  "Yes - we were told to expect you."

  "By whom?"

  "There will be plenty of time to chat, my friends." She said, leading them towards the exit. "But we mustn't keep the others waiting - we've prepared a feast to make you at home. This way..."

  The woman stepped outside, a larger compliment of guards there to escort them as the Jacksons fell in behind her, the two soldiers from inside behind them.

  "Where are you taking us?" Terry asked her as she walked.

  "To The Lodge!" She responded, prancing right along.

  Chapter 21