The Apostates

by Lars Teeney

  Ravine came upon Blaze standing by several sailors moving the gangplank into position onto a pier that they had fastened the ship to. Blaze gave Ravine a sideways glance. She could tell that he was beet-red and something was bothering him.

  “What’s wrong, hun’?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, just a headache from all the drinking,” Ravine lied.

  “Gotcha,” she said and turned her attention toward the docking effort.

  Ravine glanced to see Captain Eldridge and some armed sailors approaching from the bridge.

  “Maybe we can provide some added support?” the Captain offered.

  “Alright, sounds good,” Ravine accepted.

  After some time, Hades and Gale had emerged from the gut of the ship, all geared up and freshly showered. Ravine glared at the pair as they approached, but they paid him no attention.

  “What’s up, everyone? Any news?” Hades had asked.

  “Nope, no contact from the port or the ships. Could it be a Regime trap?” the Captain asked.

  “No way to tell unless we head out and investigate,” Hades suggested.

  “So, we don’t even know who or what we’re looking for?” Gale asked.

  “Nope, but maybe the people we are looking for know that they should be looking for us: a massive flotilla of ships?” Blaze offered.

  “Shall we?” Hades gestured to the gangplank.

  With that the Apostates, the Captain and his men and women were on their way. The group proceeded down the pier toward the shore and the looming hulks of ships. There were no sounds to be heard save for the group’s footsteps and the rusty creaking of loose metal fittings swaying in the breeze. The white noise of the city at large was ever present. The Apostates passed many rows of ships that protruded up from the water’s surface. They had reached the end of the pier and were faced with a massive warehouse with shattered windows. The paint and plaster had been peeling off, and the structures had long been in a state of disrepair.

  The Apostates and sailors scanned the profiles of buildings for movement, for signs of life, but none stirred. Movement was detected under a wooden ramp, and all guns sights were trained on the structure, a stray cat emerged, fearless of the large group of humans. The cat rubbed its body against Blaze’s leg, expectant of some type of treat. Some chuckles could be heard in the crowd. The cat moved from person to person. A sailor pulled some dried meat from his pouch and threw it on the ground next to the cat, which promptly ran over and sniffed it to deem fit for consumption. The morsel passed the test, and the cat snatched the meat in its jaws.

  At that moment, a large debris pile toppled over resulted in a loud crash. The cat, startled, bolted under the wooden ramp with its meat. The group responded by aiming their guns at the source of the disturbance and taking defensive postures. The group split into three, one group followed Hades-Perdition and traveled toward the west side of the warehouse. Another group had followed Gale-Whirlwind and Ravine-Gulch to the east side. The Captain lead a group of sailors to the main entrance, halted and waited for the other groups to finish a perimeter sweep of the warehouse. Hades group took a position outside a westside roll-up door cargo bay and waited. On the east side of the building Ravine and Gale’s group also prepared to breach the eastside service entrance.

  There was silence for a moment. Suddenly the profiles of armed figures emerged on rooftops. The surrounded structures were covered in numerous hostiles with superior firing positions. The three groups were surrounded by sharpshooters and hemmed in all sides by structures. They were in the middle of bottlenecks with no room to maneuver. More armed figures moved out of the structures from the ground level to brandish weapons at the rear of the Apostates. They were outnumbered as well.

  A lanky figure on the roof stepped forward from the sunlight that obscured details of the assailants. As best the Apostates could see, looking up at the man, he was an odd looking fellow, with a long pointy nose, beady eyes, and pointed ears. His hair was peppered gray and converged to a point on the top of his cranium. He was wearing a felt greatcoat and khaki fatigues.

  “Greetings, Intruders. First of all, please allow me relieve you of your weapons. I humbly request you comply, or you shall force my soldiers to do you quite a bit of harm,” the man requested with a degree of civility.

  “Fuck that—you all disarm!” Hades-Perdition yelled back.

  “Interesting, I offer a polite ultimatum and you repay me with vulgarity. This does not bode well for our relations. I implore you, please desist or I fear that I will need to bestow a generous helping of lead upon your persons. Please comply, now!” The man’s patience was being tested. His disposition had shifted to one of irritation.

  “Apostates, train your weapons on that man! Make sure he gets it first!” Hades encouraged his men.

  “My dear sir, you quite underestimate my speed and agility. I must tell you I will be out of your line of sight before any of your comrades can accurately make the shot. I just thought I would do you the courtesy of forewarning you. However, I see that you will not cooperate, so, everyone! Please open fire on these stubborn individuals!” The man, though being quite long-winded, ordered his forces to open fire.

  “Wait! Hold your fire!” Ravine-Gulch had cried out. He used his neural implant to send a call to the bridge of the Iowa. Instantaneously his neural implant established a connection to the targeting and navigation systems of the battleship. He assumed control of the three massive gun turrets, and they began to swivel to face the direction of the assailants. This did not escape the notice of the Man or his forces. Panic spread among the Man’s ranks.

  “Sir, you may get some shots off and kill some us, but right now I can assure you that I am in direct control of the firing systems on board that battleship over there. If you take a single shot I will command those gun batteries to open up and blow this entire place into the slums. Think about it.” Ravine had upped the stakes. He hoped they would not call his bluff as the gun turrets were not prepped for firing. The Man, looking startled, wiped some sweat from his brow.

  “Bravo, good sir, you offer a compelling response to our actions. I, for one, am in no hurry to be consumed in the aftermath of a broadside from your respectable battleship. I will command my fellows to stand down and perhaps we can discuss the situation in a more civilized manner,” the Man had conceded. He gestured for his men to lower their weapons and the tension eased slightly. The three groups of Apostates converged in front of the warehouse, but still kept a wary eye out for danger. The strange Man had descended to the ground level and emerged out a side entrance with a number of armed personnel. Also by his side was a woman with a dark complexion and close-cropped hair with tight curls. She had gages in her earlobes that had been slightly stretched. She wore a sleeveless leather tunic that buttoned in the middle, and black shorts worn over some leather leggings and combat boots. As the two approached they conversed in the Spanish language.

  “Well now, It appears all parties involved are at an impasse,” the strange looking Man said. Up close his face looked mildly weathered. He appeared to be in his late forties. The woman beside him said nothing.

  “Yes, that appears to be the case,” Hades responded, sizing up the Man.

  The woman with the short hair and stretched earlobes gave Gale a glance. She approached closer.

  “Hola señora, pido disculpas por la terrible recepción, pero mi amigo aquí es bastante prudente,” the woman with the stretched earlobes said to Gale.

  “No pasa nada. Esperemos que se puede decir quién es usted. ¿Tienes un nombre?” Gale responded.

  “Bueno, me voy por Angel Seraphim. Es una larga historia,” Angel Seraphim named herself in Spanish.

  “Por supuesto! Estoy Gale-Whirlwind,” Gale explained.

  “What are they saying, please?” Blaze remarked.

  “This woman says her name is Angel-Seraphim and she apologized for the poor reception,” Gale translated loosely.


  “Then I say, What your name? She say Gale-Whirlwind. Know Graham Wynham?” Angel said in slightly broken English. She had a strange compound name as well so Gale assumed that the group were Apostates.

  “So, our comrade Wynham has sent all of you fine people to come seek us out. This is marvelous news, I say. Please, please accept my apology. I am Pale-Silence, for obvious reasons that’s not my real name, but it should suffice,” Pale-Silence offered, he place his hand out to Hades, indicating a shake. Hades-Perdition accepted.

  “What a joyous occasion we have here. I suppose I should inquire, have the lot of you been graced with communication from Mr. Wynham lately?” Pale Silence had asked.

  “I’m afraid not. It seems Graham has dropped off the grid. Last we heard from him he instructed us to find you all,” Hades stated.

  “Why, this throws a veritable monkey wrench into our machinations,” Pale-Silence lamented.

  “Not necessarily. He did divulge his plan to us, so we’ll continue on unless we hear otherwise,” Ravine-Gulch had interjected.

  “The last time I had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Wynham, he had mentioned that allies would seek us out from the North. But, he did not bother to elaborate any further, so when your grand armada came steaming into our humble port, you could see why we had to proceed with extreme prejudice.” Pale-Silence said. His grayish complexion was alarming to look at in the sun.

  “No worries, we’ve been used to hostile receptions as of late,” Blaze-Scorch jested.

  “Anyhow, where does our merry band go to from here?” Pale-Silence asked.

  “You have ships here, yes? Ravine asked.

  “Why yes, we do,” Pale Silence gestured to the ships in the port, “Most are in working order. We have an assortment of military craft.”

  “Well, that is the plan then. We combine fleets, and you all assist us to get to New Megiddo City—figure out a way to take down the Regime,” Hades stated.

  “I have to concur with you. We shall combine our resources and help complete this epic journey!” Pale-Silence exclaimed, “Well, shall we stow all these firearms and maybe share some beverages to break the ice between our respective groups?”

  “Let’s do it,” Gale agreed.

  “Okay, we’ll put up here for the night and then shove off in the morning. You all should check out our flagship, the U.S.S. Iowa,” Hades suggested, waving an arm for them to follow.

  Everyone was at ease and holstered firearms. The Long Beach camp followed the Apostates to the Iowa. They filed up the gangplank and onto the weather deck. The new members were taken on a tour of the bridge and other facilities, then the group made for the mess hall and the cantina for refreshments.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  The black Charger came to a stop on a hill covered in debris piles, which was overlooking the port of Long Beach. Prelate Inoguchi stepped out of the car and gazed down at the water just off the shore. There were ships spread out for miles around. She recognized the ships from the Great Lake and knew that she was close to her query. She walked over to the trunk and popped it, inside she activated a pair of disc-shaped drones, which hovered beside her, one on the left and one on the right. Prelate Inoguchi and the two drones struck out down the hill.

  She walked down through the slums that lay next to the port of Long Beach. She walked slowly down the street. It was lined with shanty structures: some were inhabited, others were on the verge of collapse and abandoned. Prelate Inoguchi spied a leaning structure made of cinder block and rotten wood. She had found that it was empty, so she decided she would wait here for the night. She would move in the early hours of the morning when the Apostates had gone to sleep, and they had a skeletal crew of sentries posted.

  Prelate Inoguchi activated her retinal H.U.D. and set an alarm for just before dawn. She set both drones to “sentry” mode at either entrance to the shanty. Once she felt like the location was secure she decided she would get some sleep. Prelate Inoguchi leaned against a couple wooden planks that were set at an angle to the wall and laid down a cloak. She laid upon the cloak and attempted to go to sleep. She had thought about the light and warmth of her Lord for comfort.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  The cantina was full in the Iowa. Personnel had tapped several kegs of ale, and there was liqueur of all types for mixed drinks. Gale-Whirlwind and Angel-Seraphim were sitting at the cantina bar conversing in Spanish. It had been a while since she had talked to someone fluent in Spanish. Ravine-Gulch glanced over at a Gale for a moment, then took a sip of his beer. He was hanging out alone at a table on the far side of the mess. Blaze-Scorch was conversing with Captain Eldridge and a group of sailors, all which had been drinking heavily and were enamored with her womanly assets. Hades-Perdition had been sitting at a table with Pale-Silence, discussing various aspects of the upcoming voyage and campaign. And both groups’ personnel were mixing and mingling throughout the mess hall and cantina.

  Gale sipped on her makeshift whiskey sour. She was listening to Angel’s story. Angel was fairly animated as she spoke.

  “Mi familia era originalmente de Nicaragua. Que pasa contigo? (My family was originally from Nicaragua. What about you?)” Angel stated. She had a stein of lager and took a sip, but the head was still too frothy.

  “Bueno, la familia de mi madre es de Puerto Rico y México. Mi familia llegó a California hace mucho tiempo, desde la costa este, (Well, my mother’s family is from Puerto Rico and Mexico. My father’s family came to California long ago, from the East Coast,)” Gale responded with a smile. She recalled when she was a girl that her mom would tell her stories about her ancestors, she loved hearing about her family members who lived through World War Two.

  “Mi vida ha sido una locura desde el señor Wynham me reclutó, (My life has been crazy since Mr. Wynham recruited me,)” Angel recounted.

  “Dímelo a mí. Yo había suicidado. Ellos me trajeron de vuelta. (Tell me about it. I had committed suicide. They brought me back,)” Gale had stated with a frown on her face. She looked over toward Ravine. She caught him looking her way, then she broke eye contact. Angel didn’t fail to notice the event.

  “Espero que no te importe que preguntar. ¿Quién es ese tipo? (I hope you do not mind me asking. Who is this guy?)” Angel inquired Gale about Ravine.

  “Yo no pensar en ello. Ha tomado. (I wouldn’t think about it. He’s taken,)” Gale informed her, a part of her wanted to keep Ravine on the back burner.

  “No hay problema. (No problem,)” Angel responded, she could sense the unfinished business between the two of them, so she wanted to sidestep that minefield.

  “Así que, ¿cuál es su habilidad especial? (So, what is your special skill?) Gale asked, wondering why Angel was selected by Graham for the Apostates. Gale was still trying to figure out why she was picked by Graham, herself. She didn’t know which one of her skills had interested Graham.

  “Mert jó vagyok nyelven.” Angel responded in some other language than Spanish.

  “What does that mean?” Gale asked, this time in English.

  “Hungarian, It mean, I good at language. My English not so good. But, I work on it.” Angel answered. She took a swig of her lager and smiled.

  “Oh, I see,” Gale said with feeling slightly inadequate.

  ⍟ ⍟ ⍟

  Hades-Perdition had been engaged in an intense discussion with Pale-Silence. They had touched upon a number of subjects, from the disappearance of Wynham, to the increased aggression of L.O.V.E., and the desperation of the Church.

  “When we were attacked by the Lovers at the Great Lake, there was a third party at odds with them. A woman seemed to be some Church zealot. She had access to some pretty hard-hitting drones. Does this sound familiar?” Hades asked.

  Pale-Silence sat in thought for a time, then he spoke, “Most fascinating. Allow me to tell you something that you may find interesting. Graham Wynham was very deliberate when he made his selections for this outfit. Several of us have had connections to the Regime or Ch
urch in the past. Whereas you were a former Ranger, I was once an ordained Prelate for the Church of New Megiddo. They paid quite a few of us. However, there was one Prelate that no one had ever witnessed in action but cultivated a fairly renowned reputation for ruthless efficiency. She rarely took on ordained contracts, but when she did she never failed. From what I can remember, I believe she had a Japanese name. Pardon my lack of memory—I cannot recall.” Pale-Silence was thinking about his days as a Prelate. There had been good money in the trade if a Prelate was successful. If not, there was a danger that they would be punished with Apostasy.

  “So, the woman who came at us like a bat out of hell was a Prelate?” Hades pondered.

  “More appropriately, THE Prelate. If you cannot confirm that she is indeed dead, do not be surprised if she doesn’t come calling again to finish her work.” Pale smiled crookedly. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling smoke and releasing it through his nostrils. The sight made him resemble biblical demon.

  Hades tipped back his drink to collect the last little bit of liquid, set the cup down, and took a good look at Pale, “Hey, so you were a Prelate. I couldn’t help but notice, your...unique look. Were you—?” Hades trailed off and Pale picked up where left off.

  “Born like this? God’s no. My friend, being a Prelate was a very lucrative trade. I had a penchant for theatrics and had plenty of disposable income. I also happened to have enjoyed instilling a sense of terror in my queries. This was the result of my choice to alter my physical appearance for the maximum impact.” Pale’s beady eyes were wide open when he told the story.

  “Wow, Pale, if I can say one thing about you—it’s that you’re dedicated,” Hades said sarcastically.

  “My friend, It was an effective tactic during my run as a Prelate, but it was also the contributing factor to my downfall and subsequent vilification by the Church. They claimed I was a “spawn of Satan” and thusly labeled me an Apostate,” Pale recounted sorely. He took another drag from his cigarette then smashed it in an ashtray.