Again the noise subsided.
“I looked and there was an enormous crowd. They were from every race, tribe, nation and language and they stood in front of the throne of the lamb.”
His voice was slow and contrite. As he spoke he used his hands in sweeping gestures to add effect to the delivery of his message. Like all great orators in history, he was a master of crowd control and his followers were now eating right out of his gesturing hands. They lapped up every tasty morsel he threw at them.
With palms turned down and arms outstretched he quietened his flock.
“These are unprecedented times,” he continued. “We have been blessed by the grace of God to have found sanctuary amidst the turmoil this earthly world is facing. In his presence right now we must give thanks by preparing this world for the day when the Lord God will walk among us.”
As he continued in the center of the arena Josh turned to Siobhan and raised an eyebrow. “What a fucking nut-job,” he said.
“Well put,” she replied. “I have a feeling though,” she said with a sigh, “that we might be up shit creek tonight without the proverbial paddle.”
Josh gave a concerned look.
“Relax for now boyo. Whatever that mother fucker has planned I’m not going down without a fight.” Siobhan glanced sternly at the two men. “Now, are you with me?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Josh was in.
“Colin?”
“Without question little lady,” said the butcher. “I have no idea what’s in store for us, but I ain’t checking out like this. No fucking way I am!”
The Lamb of God ended his well prepared and polished opening with a resounding ‘Amen!’ that was repeated by all but seven at the zoo that night. He then unscrewed the lid off an Evian water bottle, poured it into a chalice and took a sip. All the while he eyed Siobhan.
“Brothers and sisters of the four horsemen. It is JUDGEMENT TIME!”
Whilst his statement was delivered like it was a line from a low budget television game show, it was well received and it evoked the loudest cheer of the night thus far. There was something very macabre about the desires of this crowd, all of whom were totally oblivious to just how far they had regressed as a society.
Martin continued. “Before us, stand seven.”
Boos and hisses.
“Each stand accused of sins against the Almighty. They have broken God’s law and must be punished for their crimes.”
Josh shook his head. “Some trial,” he said, “guilty until proven guilty huh.”
Two guards dressed completely in black marched towards the prisoners. Only when they drew near did the white 4Horsemen logo on their shirts become visible. They stopped at the two men chained to the poles next to Colin then turned to the podium.
The two prisoners were accused of desertion. When the Lamb of God read out their charges he paused for effect and put the right emphasis on particular words in a deliberate attempt to sway his followers. They may indeed have been the jury, but he was unequivocally the judge and executioner.
“On the night in question,” he continued with the case against the two men, “they stole from you, from us… each of us. Food, supplies and weapons.”
Angry boos rang out.
Next to the two poles the accused men did not move. They stood defiantly with their hands clasped in front of them, heads held high staring at the crowd.”
“Brothers and sisters, those who have sinned shall be forgiven, that is God’s will. However, those who do not repent, shall be punished.”
The crowd roared again.
“They deserted us, abandoned us, stole from us.”
The noise around the arena had become deafening.
Martin waited for the crowd to settle.
“Salvation comes from our God, who sits on the throne. And from the Lamb!”
“The Lamb,” repeated the crowd as one.
In the cold night air tension burned everywhere. The crowd waited with baited breath for the verdict. They had all been here many times before to witness this well-orchestrated theater of justice, it was not new to them and each of them knew their roles in this interactive drama.
Lawlessness had reigned over the world since it changed. With the collapse of all modern infrastructure law and order had been left in the hands of the people, with scattered survivors living by their own rules. Early vigilante groups were no match for murders, rapists and thieves who seized the opportunity to roam the streets raping and pillaging without fear of recrimination. With no-one to hold them accountable for their crimes they went unpunished. No-one tried to stop them.
The world had fallen into a dark pit where chaos reigned. Humanity deserted the earth and rapidly people began to fear people as much as they feared the undead.
In the beginning Martin’s quest had been noble and just. He had vision and built a following on the values of community, faith and justice. Initially it showed promise looking every bit the Utopian society he dreamed it would be. Laws were implemented and law breakers punished, for the first time since the turn citizens of Martin’s 4Horsemen cult felt a sense of belonging. They also felt safe at this new sanctuary.
Religion and power had driven the man on the platform who referred to himself as the Lamb of God off the rails. The power he had over his people had come from decisive leadership policed by a heavy-handed and loyal force of henchmen, his officers. He had given people hope in a time of despair, but it came at a cost. So successful was he in espousing his beliefs, that he had convinced his flock that he was indeed a servant of God sent to save believers and to punish sinners. There was no room within his sanctuary for those who doubted or disputed his word, no room at all.
“Lord God almighty!” Martin bellowed, looking to the heavens, “true and just are your judgements.”
The gong resounded and reverberated once more.
Turning to face the two men in the arena that had been singled out, the Lamb of God passed sentence.
“Judgement! For the crimes of desertion and theft you face the punishment...,” he paused, “of death!”
Whilst the audience had received the verdict they had hoped for, they went strangely quiet.
The two men immediately looked at each other in horror, their hearts sank. It was too much for one of the men who immediately dropped to his knees and began sobbing into his hands.
The Lamb of God was not finished. “Don’t be afraid of anything you are about to suffer, be faithful to me even if it means death, and I will give your life as your prize of victory.” Despite reading this scripture, Martin tried to make out that these were his own words.
The gong sounded again.
“Live and I give you life,” said Martin, raising an arm and dropping it again. Gave the signal.
Suddenly a gate at the front of the arena opened. It was dark inside that space, pitch black and gloomy.
“What the fuck!” exclaimed Josh.
No-one had time to respond, which was lucky for they had no idea of what was happening anyway.
“Come!” yelled Martin, immediately falling into a trance-like state. “There was a pale-colored horse, its rider was named Death. Everyone who hears this must also say... come!”
The crowd instantly responded, chanting, “Come! Come! Come!”
Emerging from the darkness galloped a white stallion, a rider clad in black was astride urging it on. He wore a long black cloak with a hood that covered his face and head. In the cool night air steam puffed from the nostrils of the enormous beast, muscles rippling as it sped forward. One would have been forgiven for thinking at first glance that it was breathing fire.
“What the fuck!” exclaimed Josh once more, a lot louder this time.
The chanting stopped once the horse and rider arrived in the arena, replaced by loud cheering.
Hooves thundered around the arena as the rider guided his steed on a path that circumnavigated the outer perimeter below the feet of the bellowing bystanders. As horse and rider pass
ed each section of the crowd noise levels became deafening, in the same way a Mexican wave might have sounded at a packed out football match.
Eventually the rider pulled at the reigns, turning his steed to gallop past the seven prisoners. Coming to an abrupt stop in front of the two condemned men a small dust cloud rose and then settled again at the hooves of the pale horse. With a whinny the stallion blew more steam through its nostrils as it breathed heavily.
Reaching inside his cloak the dark rider, who signified Death in this bizarre ritual pulled out two weapons raising them into the air before tossing them to the ground. Both men cast their eyes down to where a sword and an axe lay at their feet. Again they looked at each other struggling to comprehend the sentence they had be given. Whilst they did not know each other, neither had killed another human being before and the thought of having to take another person’s life in order to survive sickened them both to their stomachs.
The rider masquerading as Death addressed the two men with one word, delivered in a cold deep brazen tone.
“Fight!”
A shiver went down both their spines.
The rider pulled at his reigns rearing the pale horse up onto its hind legs before galloping off into the darkness from whence he came. The gate slammed shut behind him.
An eerie silence fell upon the arena as the two men contemplated their fate.
Martin’s voice broke through the lull. “Judgement has been passed. Live, and I give you life,” he repeated, “but should you choose not to fight for your life, then the Lord God Almighty will claim it for you.”
“What the hell have you gotten us into Siobhan,” Josh said, wrestling with his restraints.
A chant began in the crowd, starting quietly at first before quickly gaining momentum and volume. Soon it rang out everywhere.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Siobhan looked up to the main platform and caught Martin’s stare. He had traded his water for a chalice of red wine, seemingly more befitting of the evening’s events. Despite the first judgement of the night falling on the two men Martin’s attention was still firmly locked onto her, his look containing pure hatred.
Not one to be intimidated the tough Irish girl chained to the center pole mouthed the words, ‘Fuck you,’ in his direction. She then gave him the middle finger which enraged him further, causing him to drop his stare and look away.
“Round one to me,” she whispered quietly to herself. No-one else saw this fiery little altercation as all eyes were fixed on the two condemned men.
The moon made its first appearance for the evening, shining brightly between the clouds that had held it captive until now. Moonlight danced off the blade of the sword as if it were a divine sign from the heavens, yet neither man made a move for it.
The shorter of the two condemned men had dried his tears and remained on his knees staring at the two weapons struggling with the justification to do what he had to do. Before coming to the sanctuary he had killed many of the undead creatures and had never given it a second thought. He had never faced having to kill another person before, never had call to do such a thing until now. Despite this he was fully aware of what was at stake – he must kill this man, in order to live!
As he battled with his conscience over this moral dilemma he watched as the other man slowly reached down to collect the sword, gripping it firmly in his hand. He froze momentarily not knowing what to do, wanted desperately to run but knew that he couldn’t. He contemplated pleading for his life, but knew mercy was not ever a consideration for Martin having witnessed his ruthlessness on many occasions. He was doomed.
At that very moment the words ‘kill or be killed’ went through his mind. He heard the crowd chanting.
“I’m sorry,” said the other man, raising the sword high in the air.
Colin, who had the best view as he was shackled closest to the two combatants, saw the blade glint in the moonlight. As tempting as it was at that moment to close his eyes he kept staring intently witnessing everything.
Slicing through the air the sword bore down with tremendous force on its target. When it landed with a thud the man wielding the weapon looked on dismay, he had not connected with anything at all and had just hit dirt. His opponent had vanished in a flash.
As he rolled away the shorter man made a desperate lunge for the axe, righting himself with the weapon securely in both of his hands. Swinging with all his might as if he were chopping down a tree he sent the blade slicing deep into the thigh of the taller man. With a scream he toppled blood gushing from a gaping wound below his hip.
Such was the force of the second blow that collected him on his bicep it cut clean through skin, muscle and bone, severing the arm clean off. For some reason Colin could not bring himself to watch the final blow, but he heard it and knew precisely what had happened. When he reopened his eyes he saw the axe embedded in the skull of the taller man who had died on his knees. As the body toppled over blood spurted from the dismembered arm onto the ground below turning the soil a deep crimson.
Dropping to his knees once more the man who had won this fight so easily sobbed loudly into his blood soaked hands.
Around him the crowd roared.
Josh turned to look at Siobhan. “There’s no way I’m fighting you,” he said.
“Somehow,” she replied, “I don’t think you will have to.”
15
Lake of Fire
A pool of blood that had formed around the body of the vanquished combatant glistened as the moon once again made an appearance, beaming brightly through the clouds. A light layer of steam rose from the corpse as the man’s warm insides were exposed to the cool night air.
The body never convulsed, shook or twitched in any way. There was no death rattle, no gurgling sounds, no last words – the man had simply died, instantly and that was that. The dead man wasn’t a strong combative type by any means and the truth is he never actually wanted to fight, especially not in these circumstances in a duel to the death. He had convinced himself that if he didn’t make the first move then he was more than likely going to die. In the end however, it made no difference as the outcome was the same.
“To the victor go the spoils!” Martin’s voice echoed across the arena.
Raising his head from his hands the axe-wielding gladiator felt anything but victorious. Having just killed a man in cold blood he was now battling with the immorality of his action. Staring blankly in the direction of the main platform his face dripped with the vanquished man’s blood.
“Brothers and sisters,” continued Martin, “salvation comes from our God and from the Lamb.”
Nods of silent agreement followed.
Turning to face the blood-soaked victor he announced, “God grants you life, this is your reward for ridding the world of one less sinner.”
Martin often used this act of compassion to win more favor with his followers, but in truth he cared not for the individuals he released for they were merely pawns in his self-centered game. It was a game which he played very well – by granting life in such a public setting and using the words of the bible to justify his actions, he succeeded in convincing his people that he was indeed the Lamb of God. Cunning perception and masterful manipulation.
Cheers of approval rang out.
Still on his knees the man who had just gained his freedom sobbed once again. He did not know whether he should be happy for himself, or sad for the man who gave his life so that he could live. Still contemplating this dilemma he felt the metal bracelet on his ankle release its hold. Strong hands lifted him to his feet and before he knew it he was being dragged towards the perimeter fence.
A small door opened and he was led inside, pushed into a seat in the dimly lit room. Once the exterior door was shut he took a deep breath and smiled, started to convince himself that he had no choice to do what he did – it was self-defense. Ironic that this would be his last thought.
A small sharp blade sliced effortlessly across his throat cutting throu
gh his windpipe. Blood streamed from the gaping wound as he struggled against the two burly men who held him down, until eventually his body went limp. Releasing their grip the guards pushed his lifeless body to the floor.
The five remaining prisoners stood in the center of the arena awaiting their fate. Having already witnessed the rather brutal duel they each feared the worse. Up until now this point none of them were really clear as to what they were actually accused of doing, a crime so heinous to warrant such a cruel ending.
“Brothers and sisters,” Martin started up again.
The crowd hushed.
“Here we go,” said Siobhan. There was an air of expectation in her voice.
“It is time for the final judgement!” continued Martin.
The arena fell completely silent. If a pin were to drop it would have echoed loudly at that moment.
“The word of God is clear and unequivocal,” Martin said, raising his bible. “An eye for an eye!”
Row upon row of eager eyes stared back in anticipation.
“True and just are indeed the judgements of our Lord God Almighty. Tonight, those who stand before us have committed murder.”
Uneasiness.
“Two crimes, two murders, two victims. Two of our own have been taken from us at the hands of these sinners.”
Josh had been wondering all night what the couple next to them were accused of, now he knew. Understood precisely why they too were chained like animals in the middle of this vast arena awaiting their fate at the hands of a madman.
“An eye for an eye, the good book says. And that is tonight’s judgement.”
Cheering ran out at the judgement.
Martin looked directly at Siobhan. She started straight back, once again flipped him the bird.
“And I saw the dead, great and small alike, standing before the throne.” Martin read directly from Revelations. “Death and the world of the dead also gave up the dead they held. And all were judged according to what they had done. Then death and the world of the dead were thrown into the lake of fire.”
Dark of Dawn 4Horsemen: Book one in the Dark of Dawn Series Page 17