“I am the clenched fist of the Lord!” Daniel shouted as he shot the nurse right through her left breast. The doctor fell to his knees, pleading for his life. Daniel put a gun to the man's temple as he blubbered and pissed himself.
“The Lord is swinging his fist at you, Doctor Bennett. For all your crimes. For all your deeds. The taste of lead would be too much of a mercy for you.”
Daniel pistol whipped Doctor Bennett, and he dropped to the floor unconscious. Daniel knew that he had to work fast. He could already hear the sirens approaching in the distance. He pulled down the doctor's pants and found the nearest scalpel. Doctor Bennett's cock was a miserable and flaccid thing, but there was still enough of a root for Daniel to yank and cut. He cut the whole thing off, right down to the base. When he was done, he lifted the bloody organ up and smiled as he casually tossed it aside.
“Children may die by your hand, but today a girl is born.”
The cops were almost there. Daniel cast aside the last of his remaining weapons and positioned himself face down with his hands on his head. His holy mission had been accomplished, and there was nothing left to do but wait.
Three years later, Daniel Blanc was no longer Daniel Blanc. He was prisoner 66012 in the Bukowski Unit, West Livingston, Texas. This was the place that they put you when the state had sentenced you to die. Daniel had been holding up the execution date in the courts with numerous appeals. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had a strong feeling that his life was not destined to end up in the electric chair. He felt that the Lord still had a role left for him to play, and so he kept on delaying to see what that role would be. He knew that if he waited long enough, God would eventually speak to him as he did when he told Daniel to shoot up that clinic.
The harsh metal lock of the cell door clanged to the left and in stepped Correctional Officer Bill Brunson. Bill was not a man who possessed many facial expressions, but that day in Daniel Blanc's cell, he had the expression of a broken man who was not quite sure how to put himself back together. His shirt was untucked, and the buttons at the top were undone, exposing the wife-beater vest underneath. The bags were heavy on his eyes and matched the shade of the stubble that bloomed on his normally clean-shaven face. Daniel could smell the alcohol on his breath from where he stood a few feet away.
“Is it true?” Daniel asked. “Have the angels really come?”
Bill looked at Daniel as if realising that the cell was occupied for the first time. He took a fresh hit from his flask and locked eyes.
“It's true.”
Daniel was staggered by the words. He could feel the ground giving way beneath him as his legs turned to jelly. He quickly placed a hand on the cell wall to support his falling body.
“I don't understand. Why haven't they come to me? Why haven't they made themselves known?”
“I would have thought that obvious. You're a no-good piece of shit killer of women and children.”
“I did all of that in their name. I was only ever their servant. Their soldier.”
“I guess that makes you a prisoner of war, and me the one that holds your key. I woke up this morning thinking to myself that there is no point to anything anymore. For a brief moment after getting out of bed, I thought about quitting this life altogether. Even got as far as putting a shotgun under my chin, but for some reason, I just couldn't do it. You see, there still is a purpose for a man like me. That purpose is making sure that scum like you suffer for all the days that you have left.”
A left-right combination dropped Daniel to the floor. Daniel brought himself back up to a praying position, speaking to the angels more so than Bill Brunson.
“Why have you forsaken me? I did everything you wanted. I don’t understand.”
A kick to the gut put Daniel back on all fours. Bill seized him with a fistful of hair.
“I am going to be back here every day, you hear me? This is the only face that you'll ever see from now until the end. No angels are coming for you because you're already in Hell.”
A knee to the face sent Daniel reeling, and when he landed, he was no longer in his cell. He stood on a marble floor in a great hall that was more splendid than anything his eyes had ever seen. Renaissance style paintings decorated every inch of the walls and ceiling, depicting scenes of great biblical significance. Something was moving inside the paintings. A great many somethings. A choir of angels fluttered and zipped through the paint, singing with voices that were too perfect. Their song surrounded Daniel, raised him up to more than he was. Stone cherubs with blank eyes climbed the pillars and called out to him with their chiselled lips.
Daniel's eyes grew wide with ecstasy. He knew that this day would come. Daniel looked to the head of the room and saw an angel emerge from a floor to ceiling painting of the pearly gate entrance to Heaven. The beautiful creature smiled at Daniel, and Daniel fell to his knees before it.
“I knew you'd come. Praise Heavenly father.”
“Behold! I, the angel Michael come to thee with a mission most sacred.”
“Yes! Anything blessed Michael. You need only point, and I will make myself your spear.”
“You will lead the Heirs of Salvation into the rapture.”
“You honour me. I have prepared for this moment my entire life.”
“You will destroy the non-believers, rip the flesh from their bones.”
“I will make of them a holy sacrifice. I will cut out their blaspheming tongues.”
“Kill them all!” came the chant of the painted choir. They called out to Daniel from their paintings. They called out, and they chanted, “Kill them all!”
“Shut the fuck up!” were the words of Correctional Officer Bill Brunson back in the cell of prisoner 66012. He gave Daniel a hard kick to the ribs, but he had stopped responding to the pain many kicks ago.
“Kill them all,” he muttered to himself, a bloody froth fizzing from his mouth. “Kill them all.”
“Fuckin' fruitcake. I'll be back tomorrow when you're ready to pay a little more attention to the ass kicking you’re receiving.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
'Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition,' rang out in another Texas town as The Heirs of Salvation went about their business sweeping the place. Daniel Blanc had other things in mind for himself and a couple of very special guests as he directed some of his men to fetch a dining table and some chairs. They raided a nearby family home and found a nice mahogany table and chair set, which they set up outside in the town square.
Jacob pulled Tracey out of a car and roughly shoved her towards the dining table. Little Sam tried to make a run for it but was snagged by a big, prison tattooed, muscle beast they called Burt. Burt planted Sam in a chair by the dining table and silently stared him down until Sam slumped into a cross-armed sulk of resignation. Daniel Blanc pulled out a chair for Tracey, and she sat meekly enough, knowing that she had no alternatives. She avoided any eye contact with Sam, but could still feel his hot glare of judgement upon her face.
Daniel passed his Confederate hat to Burt and took his own seat at the head of the table. Tracey flinched at the sound of gunfire in the distance, thinking about the fate of her late husband. The sounds communicated that the Salvationer's were meeting some stubborn resistance within the town. Daniel paid it no mind and called forth some other tattooed men with a clap. Each man was carrying a tray of food that they silently laid out on the table. It was the biggest feast that either Tracey or Sam had seen in quite some time. There was shredded chicken, pork belly, T-bone steaks, and a gigantic bowl of fresh salad with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon.
“If there is food in Heaven, then it is definitely Texan barbeque,” said Daniel. “We load all of the livestock that we find onto trucks. The Lord provides well for us, as you can see.”
Daniel grabbed Tracey's plate and started to fill it up with a little bit of everything.
“I'm a vegan,” said Tracey.
Daniel laughed and slapped a T-bone onto her plate, never breaking eye
contact.
“You will eat what the good Lord and I have provided, or you will eat nothing at all.”
Daniel held her eyes with his until she sheepishly nodded her agreement. Daniel smiled at her acquiescence and grabbed the bottle of wine, looking towards Sam.
“You'll have some wine, won't you, Sam? All children are men in this world.”
Daniel poured a generous helping into Sam's glass before topping up Tracey's and his own.
“Who wants to say grace? Sam?”
Sam stared back at Daniel silently, refusing to say a single word.
“Tracey then. You'll honour us with some words, won't you?”
Tracey looked like a deer in headlights. She cleared her throat and desperately searched for any suitable words that could be said.
“Dear Lord,” she began, and Daniel closed his eyes and bowed his head, taking Sam and Tracey's hands into his own. “We thank you for the food we are about to eat. I am humbled by your generosity and your forgiveness. Amen.”
“Well said,” said Daniel. “Shall we eat? I don't know about you, but those long hours together on the road have worked up an appetite in me.”
Daniel forked some chicken into his mouth and stared Tracey down with his steel grey eyes until she finally took a knife to her steak. The steak bled as she cut it and made a red puddle across the plate. The blood pulsed out of the meat as if it contained a still beating heart. She held the cut piece out in front of her on a trembling fork, fighting as hard as she could against her own gag reflex. She closed her eyes as she put it in her mouth and tried to pretend that it was just some tofu, but there was no hiding the texture as she tasted it. A look of disgust slowly spread across her face. A look that she tried her hardest to suppress, knowing that Daniel was watching her every move. They ate together in silence for a while. Tracey did not look at Sam, and Sam did not look at Tracey. Daniel looked at both of them and assessed what he saw.
“I feel like you guys should talk and clear the air. That was some messed up stuff that we all went through together. The last thing I was expecting was for a mother to try and murder her own child. That frankly, blew me away. And I've seen some stuff.”
Daniel took Tracey's hand and leaned in close.
“Don't you think you should apologise to your son? It was your husband's dying wish that you look after and protect him. Yet if I hadn't stopped you, you would have chosen yourself over your offspring. That's cold, Tracey.”
Her eyes darted to Sam, but her shame averted them away again.
“I'm sorry,” she said in almost a whisper.
“I didn't quite catch that,” said Daniel.
“I'm sorry,” she said a little more firmly.
“One more time.”
“I'm sorry!” she shouted as she broke down in tears.
Daniel nodded as he patted her on the shoulder.
“Good, Tracey. That's very good.”
Daniel turned towards Sam.
“How about it, Sam? Do you have it in you to forgive your mother?”
Sam looked away from the two of them.
“I have no mother,” he said quietly.
“You hear that, Tracey? He doesn't have a mother.”
Tracey kept her eyes on her plate and didn't respond.
“I said, the boy doesn't have a mother, Tracey.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay? That's it? Okay? Well, that won't do at all. A boy needs a parent in his life, even if his days are short. If he doesn't have a mother, then how about we give him a father?”
Tracey looked up at Daniel with confusion, and struggled to keep herself together as she thought of John, his body probably still rotting somewhere back in Fredericksburg.
“His father is… dead.”
She choked down a sob as she said the word dead. Daniel gave her hand a comforting pat.
“We can give him a living one. Better than the last. It's not proper for a woman like you to be without a husband in times like these. It creates unnecessary temptation in the ranks. You don't want to be a whore for all these men now, do you? I offer you a solution.”
Daniel reached into his pocket and produced a ring with the biggest diamond that Tracey had ever seen. He got up out of his chair, bent the knee, and presented it to her.
“Tracey, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”
Tracey opened her mouth but said nothing. All of the saliva had suddenly disappeared. The silence hung in the night air, broken only by distant gunshots. Tracey felt Burt press a shotgun against the small of her back.
“This is the part where you say yes,” Daniel prompted.
She nodded her terrified head down at the ring as a single tear ran down her cheek. Daniel smiled with all of his teeth and put the ring on her finger. He grabbed at the back of Tracey’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. He kissed her long, and he kissed her deeply before pulling away from her squirming body.
“I'm so happy,” he said as he returned to his seat. “I haven't been married since my last wife passed in tragic circumstances. I’m certain that you will respect me more than she did. We'll find you a nice dress somewhere, and we'll do it the next time we stop. Then we can start the work of repairing this divided family. You shouldn’t go to the grave as enemies.”
Daniel turned to Sam.
“Do you think you could call me father?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The backhand was swift and violent. It almost knocked Sam right out of his chair.
“I will not tolerate profanity at the dinner table!”
Sam massaged his stinging cheek and looked back at Daniel with hot tears in his eyes. Daniel took a moment to regain his composure and slow down his breathing.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. If you don't want to call me father, then how about brother? Do you guys really want to know why I let two of you live instead of one? It was because of Sam and who he really is. Tracey, darling, Sam only wears the flesh of your son. His real name is Charles Blanc.”
Tracey shook her head, not quite comprehending.
“What is this? What are you talking about?”
“You're confused. I understand. Let me enlighten you. I once had a brother and his name was Charles.”
Daniel produced a wallet, and from that wallet came an old photo of a boy who looked very much like Sam. Daniel placed the picture on the table in front of Sam who looked at it with confusion in his eyes.
“That's you, Sam. Your real name is Charles.”
“No, it's not. My name is Sam.”
“There is a resemblance,” said Tracey. “But only a resemblance. They are not the same person.”
“Eyes are the window to the soul,” said Daniel. “I can see Charles in those eyes. The angels have sent him back to me for all the work I have done for them. They have performed a miracle.”
Daniel started to tear up and raised a handkerchief up to dry his eyes.
“You were right when you said that Tracey is not your mother. Our mother was a heroin-addicted whore, and we never knew our father. Mother overdosed while we were both very young and she made us into orphans. We lived in the system for a while until our true family took us in. They were good, God-fearing Christians. They taught us all about the Bible and what was expected of us as God's children in this cruel world. They made me into the man I am today, and all it took was accepting Jesus into my heart. For you, Charles, it was not so easy. You were a troubled boy and didn't like to listen to the wisdom of your elders. You openly questioned their teachings, not knowing that they were not to be questioned, only accepted. Our parents beat you, as was their right. They chained you up in the cellar and left you alone to learn your lesson through penance. There were days during that time where you never saw food at all. I always remember the sound of you crying through the floorboards as the hunger took you. You were so stubborn, Charles. All you had to do was open your heart, and they would have loved you as they loved me. You thought that
you knew your path better than the God that created you and the people who raised you.”
Daniel was overcome with emotion as he stared at the old photo of Charles.
“One day, they hit you in the face and left a mark under your right eye. A mark like that would have invited complicated questions, so they left you in the cellar while the rest of us went to church as a family. When we came home, you were dead. You had taken your chains and hung yourself on the nearest doorknob. You took the sinner's way out and robbed me of the only true blood that I had left in this world.”
Daniel delicately placed the photo back into his wallet and put his hand to Sam's squirming neck.
“But now they have sent you back to me, and I forgive you, Charles. I forgive you for everything. We have a chance to be brothers again, and you have a chance to finally come to the Lord like you should have done all those years ago. They have sent you to me so that I can save you, brother. I will be your shepherd.”
5 DAYS
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The New Orleans Arena was a beaten and battered thing, haunted by the ghosts of yesterday. The bodies that once littered its floor had long ago been moved and buried without a prayer to be heard over any of the graves. Prayers were just words for the enemy that everyone held responsible, and no one had a desire to waste their breath on a God that had already moved against them and allowed such things to happen.
Remy Laveau could vividly remember the day they moved the bodies. He lifted the shape of a small child with flame blackened flesh up into his arms. The boy’s skin came loose in Remy’s hands as if the child were a well-cooked Sunday dinner. The memory of that moment still haunted Remy. It often invaded his thoughts any time that he sat alone in a dark room. He could not shake the image from his mind no matter how hard he tried to drown it with booze and sex.
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