Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ

by Brandon Messerschmidt

Having unlocked every occupied cell in the facility, Washington reunited with Creeper and their need partner Chrome in the courtyard of the prison.

  Hundreds of men stood in awe of the raging flames closing in on the place from the west, heating the cool air of the night around them. The heroes that had saved them stood over the crowd on a picnic table at the center of the yard, shouting over the din of the chaos in an effort to calm the rowdy inmates in the face of the coming storm.

  "Shut up!" Chrome belted out, veins popping from his tattooed neck as he screamed. "This ain't the time for fighting, we've got to come together!"

  "Hey!" Washington joined him, watching as the people pushed each other over in what appeared to be the preamble of another large riot. "Stop, damn it! We have to find a way out of here before we all get toasted!"

  "We're hungry!" Some of them shouted, showing no interest in working together towards any end outside of getting their hands on some type of food.

  "Please!" Creeper added. "The main entrance is sealed, does anyone know of another way out of here?"

  "Everything started when the two of you showed up!" A man accused. "I say we eat them! They brought this upon us!"

  "God dam it, that's enough!" Chrome cried, bits of spit firing from his mouth in his anger. Turning to Washington and Matea, he seemed to concede the fight. "It's no use." He lamented. "They're driven only by their hunger. We'll have to find our own way, I guess."

  "I'm not leaving these people behind." Washington said with his resolve. "If they want food -- I'll just have to find a way to feed them."

  "Are you crazy?" Matea suggested. "I checked the pantries myself, there's nothing to eat here! I found two rancid fish, no more!"

  "Two fish?" Washington repeated with a recognition that was foreign to his partners. "Where are they?"

  "They're rotten, Rob!" Matea returned.

  "I didn't ask you what condition they were in, I asked where they were!"

  "In the kitchen area -- there was some molded bread too, if it makes you any more optimistic." Creeper answered with thick sarcasm.

  "Five loaves!" The Commander gave as a prediction.

  "Yeah," Matea responded. "I think so, but they were all fucked up, man, we can't eat that shit!"

  The Commander stepped down from their platform, giving orders to the two he left behind.

  "Make the men sit down." He directed.

  "What?"

  "Just do it!" He commanded. "I'll be back with the food."

  "You heard the man!" Chrome barked at Creeper. "Get them to sit down! Let's go!"

  Washington muscled his way through the crowd with purpose, his soldiers on the table pleading with the lively bunch of inmates in an effort to control the masses. They promised a full belly to each of them as incentive, not at all sure that whatever their leader had in mind would satisfy the bunch in the least.

  It seemed to work, however, the starving prisoners literally dying for a bite to eat and eager to oblige in any venture that might carry them forward to that objective. By the time Washington returned to the yard they were as docile as a bunch of kindergarten students, each of them sitting Indian style in a circle around the picnic table as though waiting patiently for the next round of duck-duck-goose to begin.

  The Commander weaved his way through the crowd once more, toting the gooey remnants of the fish and furry green loaves of bread in his arms. He took his place back upon the table, handing the disgusting specimens off to Chrome.

  "Now listen, everybody!" He called to the silent band of thugs around him. "There isn't much here - but if you'll suspend your disbelief, even just for a moment... I think we'll find that this is more than enough to go around. Creep," He said, turning his attention to Matea. "You take this bread around and give each of the men as much as they would have. Chrome, you do the same with the fish."

  "This is ridiculous!" Matea complained, looking to the burning skies drawing closer to them.

  "Do it!" Washington ordered. "I want everybody to take as much as they can stand to eat, okay? Just believe that there is enough - and I promise you there will be!"

  Though hesitant to do so, Creeper and Chrome did as Washington had asked. The men they fed didn't seem to mind the foul smell, and almost certainly awful taste, that accompanied their nourishment. They were happy to put anything that resembled food into their mouths, spoiled or not.

  To the utter amazement, both of the servers carried leftovers after making their rounds. They looked at Washington in awe, holding the remnants high for him to see.

  "I told you!" He smiled, raising his voice again to address all that were gathered there. "Is anyone still hungry? It would seem there is more to go around!"

  The prisoners looked each other over, every man among them shaking his head and patting his freshly filled gut. Now indebted to the stranger before them, they listened carefully to his words.

  "Friends." He addressed them. "This is a dire time... We have to find a way out of this place quickly! Is there a way out besides the main gate?"

  Suddenly the Earth shook beneath them, a tremor so intense that the Commander was rattled from his perch and fell unceremoniously to the ground. When the rumbling stopped all of the men in the yard stood up, facing the eastern wall of the place.

  "There is now." Chrome remarked as he pointed to a massive crack in the concrete.

  The prisoners swarmed around the new exit, a loud clamoring arising between them as they looked freedom in the face for the first time in many years. No one exited, though, to Washington's surprise.

  Fighting his way through the crowd he peaked out into the emptiness beyond the barrier and saw what held them back. In the distance stood a large crowd of people, at least as many in number as the prisoners. They were several hundred yards away facing the rift, motionless yet threatening in their posture.

  "Outta my way!" Irving Washington shouted as he pushed and shoved his way to the rift.

  Standing side by side with his son he looked out upon the renegades in the field.

  "Oh my God!" He exclaimed as he beheld them, one figure finally stepping forward in the darkness.

  The fire in the west lit the man in an eerie glow as he lumbered towards the broken wall. When he had halved the distance between them it became obvious to the Commander that this was no normal man wandering in the night.

  He was a black man; or had been at one time, at least. His flesh was pale and lifeless looking now, a hole in the center of his forehead leaking a frighteningly red liquid carrying chunks of sickening gray matter from within. He wore a white t-shirt that was also stained with blood in many places, his jeans tattered and torn as well. This man closing on them seemed more dead than alive; only Irving seemed to know for sure.

  "Jesus." He gasped in disbelief. "That's Malcolm Prince!"

  "Who is Malcolm Prince?" His son asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  "That's the man I killed! Well, one of 'em at least!"

  "Are you sure dad?"

  "I'm positive! I see his face every night! He haunts me! That man cost me everything!"

  "Oh shit!" Creeper added as he looked over the others, wedging himself between father and son. "Commander, look!"

  Washington couldn't believe his eyes; they hadn't lied to him through most of his life, though he had started doubting them as of late. If the image they conveyed to his mind was accurate at this moment, there was no longer a question about the nature of the mob that they were faced with on this cold night in Georgia...

  "Shank?" The Commander called in horror, looking upon a very familiar form in the distance.

  The man was clearly a soldier, dressed in his dusty combat fatigues with an assault rifle draped over his shoulder. Where his head should've been, however, was only a bloodied stump... the face of the fellow looked at them with ire from just before the body's chest where it was carried in its own arms.

>   "Fuckin'-A, man, they've come back for us!" Matea whined, seeing several other familiar faces in the crowd. They were the targets he had eliminated per government contract in the years since he spent time in prison himself. He had always anticipated their judgment, but had expected it to come after his death at a ripe old age, comfortable in his retirement.

  "No!" Chrome said as he moved toward the front of the line as well. "God, no!"

  "Who's waiting out there for you, my new friend?" Matea asked him.

  "It can't be." He cried. "Christ, don't let it be!"

  "This is bullshit!" Irving interjected. "They're dead, man! They can't hurt us! What are we all so spooked about?"

  "It's hard." Washington pointed out as mental anguish took its toll on him. "To be confronted by what you've done in this life... the people that you've hurt -- killed, in our cases."

  "Well what are they gonna do?" Irving asked. "They aren't coming any closer -- what do they want?"

  "To keep us here." His son replied. "They won't let us leave... we paid our way into this prison, and they're here to see that we serve our sentences."

  "Fuck that! I don't know 'bout the rest of y'all, but I ain't did shit to nobody that they didn't deserve!"

  "You did, dad... if you can't accept that then your death here won't clean you of the blood on your hands. It won't save any of us..."

  "So -- what the hell are you trying to say? That this is the great plan you said that God had in store for us? To burn up in this crematory when that fire stakes its claim on the place?"

  "Yeah." The Commander answered. "I guess this is our chance to make amends... we're supposed to surrender ourselves to our fate... to wipe the slate clean with our blood."

  "Bullshit!" The senior Washington insisted angrily. "This ain't salvation! This ain't what I was promised! God owes me! Get outta my way, I'm leavin' this fuckin' place!"

  "No - Dad!"

  The Commander's call was in vain, his father breaking free from his desperate grasp and charging off towards the wall of undead in his path. The prisoners watched as the man dashed into the nothingness, coming face to face with the ghoulish creature he described as Malcolm Prince.

  The corpse exploded with fury, grabbing hold of Irving Washington who screamed at its strength. Other monsters closed in around him, Irving seeming to recognize each of them and grew more terrified as he laid eyes on ghosts from his past.

  "Dad!" The Commander howled as he watched the ghouls begin to tear at the man's flesh.

  They clawed at him in rage until their fingers broke his skin, each of them pulling at the skin until they were literally tearing him apart. The mob of monsters moaned their applause as this particular group got their revenge upon the man that had separated them from their living bodies. Muscles and tendons were torn asunder, the demons exposing Irving's bones to the air in their savage dismemberment with evil smiles upon their ghastly faces.

  "Shit!" Matea gagged, fighting back the urge to vomit. He had seen terrible things in his life, but this display was thoroughly sickening. "We're dead... all of us... what the hell are we supposed to do?"

  "I know what I'm gonna do." Chrome responded. "I'm gonna pray... beg for forgiveness that I don't deserve. If it's God's will that I die here for my sins, so be it... but first I intend to set things right with myself."

  "That's not a bad idea." Washington seconded, his emotions running high as what remained of the father he'd never known was carried off by the monsters. "I think we should all pray... accept responsibility for what we've done and face our deaths like men."

  Backing away from the hole in the wall, every soul in the yard dropped to their knees. Washington led them, the words whispered to his soul in the voice of memories of his nana. He paused after each line, the prisoners repeating after him.

  "Jesus, my savior... I place all my sins before you.

  In my estimation, they do not deserve pardon.

  But I ask you to close your eyes, to my want of merit,

  And open them to your infinite merit.

  Since you willed to die for my sins,

  Grant me forgiveness for all of them.

  Thus, I may no longer feel the burden of my sins.

  A burden that oppresses me beyond measure.

  Assist me, dear Jesus, for I desire to become good.

  No matter what the cost; Take away, destroy

  and utterly root out whatever you find in me

  that is contrary to your holy will.

  At the same time, dear Jesus, illuminate me,

  so that I may walk in your holy light forever.

  Amen..."

  "Amen." The chorus of the damned echoed back.

  The yard fell silent as every man reflected on his days; the choices they'd made, both good and evil, and the circumstances that had led them to this place in which they would surely perish.

  "Daddy?" A small and innocent voice called from beyond the wall.

  "Maggie?" Chrome bellowed as he looked upon the little girl from which the beckoning came.

  She was a delicate looking thing; no more than eight or nine years old. She looked like an angel among the killers gathered here, staring lovingly at the biker Washington now called friend.

  "Oh God, Maggie!" The man sobbed as he ran to her, sweeping the girl up in a suffocating hug and spinning her around wildly as fathers often do. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

  "Who is she?" Washington asked, Chrome planting himself on the ground with the child on his knee.

  "She's my daughter." He explained, his grin dissolving as he recalled his deeds. "My wife threatened to keep her away from me." He explained. "When I was riding with the Angels... I couldn't have that!"

  "Chrome... what did you do?"

  A tear fell from the hardened man's eye as he remembered all of the gory details; images he had suppressed in his mind for nearly two decades now.

  "I killed her. I killed my baby!" His wailing intensified as he looked into her sparkling eyes, the angel showing no signs of malice against him now. "While she slept..." He continued. "She was so peaceful... I couldn't drag her through a custody battle as bloody as ours would've been, so I suffocated her with her pillow! God, I can't take the pain of remembering!"

  "It's okay, daddy." Maggie comforted him. "I forgive you now!"

  "Baby, no!" He argued. "You can't forgive me for what I've done! NO ONE can! I'm a monster, sweetie! I deserve to rot in this place for what I did to you!"

  "You're free now, Daddy." She continued as he cried. "All of you are free!"

  The gathered watched as the girl kissed her father before standing and approaching the shattered wall. She reached up, her finger glowing supernaturally, and touched the cool concrete. As though shaken by a mortar's impact it crumbled before her, all the walls of the place folding around them in a glorious cloud of dust.

  The ghouls outside no longer looked threatening. They seemed pleased at what transpired, turning and walking off serenely before fading into the night completely.

  "You can go!" Maggie explained to them. "Your debt is paid!"

  Washington was the first to stand, surveying the entirety of the scene. The wall of fire was close now, the flames hot enough to make him sweat.

  "You heard her." He said to the silent prisoners. "Let's go!"

  "No..." Chrome responded, looking bright-eyed at his daughter. "My account can never be settled so long as I draw breath. I was sentenced to live out all the days of my natural life in this building for what I did to Maggie. I intend to stay here, just as I was meant to... for years, hours -- or minutes... whatever is left of my life will unfold here, as it should."

  The girl moved back to him, spreading her arms for another embrace.

  "I love you, daddy!" She said with her beautiful smile.

  "I love you!" He returned with a sob, kissing her gently as he took her in his arms again.

  "I'm staying, too."
Creeper dropped in with emotion in his voice as well.

  "What?" Washington challenged.

  "I was never tried for my crimes." He explained. "But they weigh heavy on my conscious... I'll await my judgment here, with the rest of these souls that are no different than I, though their sins weren't committed in the name of any country."

  "You're welcome here." Another prisoner added. "Where we will all wait together."

  The Commander looked over his new army, all of them perspiring in the heat of the blaze approaching. They were steadfast in their will; nothing he could say would move any of them from their places.

  "Okay, then..." He conceded. "We stay here!"

  "No, Little Rob." His nana ordered.

  He looked in the direction of the sound and saw her -- standing there, next to Chrome and Maggie. She looked alive and well -- just as he remembered her when she had sung to him in the throes of his sickness.

  "Nana?"

  "You must go, baby!" She insisted with conviction in her tone. "You must part the waters!"

  "But nana, I --"

  "Go, Little Rob!" She commanded again. "Go now! It's not your time yet!"

  Washington looked to Matea as though seeking permission; he had never left his men behind unless they were cold and dead, something none of these people were -- yet.

  "It's okay, Mamba." Creeper said. "Go... do what needs to be done -- win this one, like always!"

  The Commander gave the scene a once over one more time before committing himself for good. With a grunt he turned his back on his friend, sprinting off into the night -- unsure where it would take him next.

  Chapter 25