Killing Angels
Page 18
“Perhaps the chair is the fortune teller I should be speaking to if it has such talent for knowing my will and desire.”
The thin lined mouth on Madame Rousseau's face let Remy know that she was a lady that did not like to be mocked.
“Sorry. This is my first time sitting in this chair. It has taken this long because up until this point I knew the future without it having to be told. I could see it as clear as a painting. Now, as the end of all this madness approaches, I find that my vision has become clouded. I am lost, and I need direction.”
The rain curtained around them as Madame Rousseau tapped her index finger against her deck of cards.
“What would you ask of my cards?”
Remy looked out into the distance, to the only home that he had ever known through the good and the bad. He did not want this to be the final chapter for his people. He turned back towards the cards and spoke his question.
“What will become of us?”
Madame Rousseau removed the quartz crystal that sat atop the deck and passed the deck over to Remy.
“Shuffle eight times,” she instructed.
Remy took the deck into his hands and counted the shuffles out in his head. He placed the deck back on the table when he was done.
“Cut the cards into three piles, facing down.”
Remy obediently did as he was instructed.
“You will choose one card from the major arcana. This will be your archetypal card. It represents you.”
Remy selected the card and turned it over on the table. On the card was a picture of a man with a long, white beard, sitting on a throne decorated with the heads of four rams. He sat in a field with a backdrop of barren mountains. In his right hand, he held the symbol of the ankh - the Egyptian symbol of life. In his left, he held an orb that Remy took as a representation of the world.
“The Emperor,” said Madame Rousseau. “The Emperor represents authority or a father figure. The heads of the rams represent determination, action, initiative, and leadership.”
“Well, that doesn't sound much like me at all,” said Remy.
“The shoe fits better than you think. Turn the next card. Let us take a look at the past before we make our way to the future.”
Remy turned over the next card to see a tall tower pitched atop a craggy mountain. The tower was on fire. The fire had been caused by a lightning bolt. People were jumping out of the windows to flee the destruction.
“The Tower. The Tower represents disaster and upheaval. The shattering of ambitions built on a false premise.”
“I don't need a card to tell me that things aren't what they used to be. What else is new?”
Remy turned the next card. Its image was of a man, lying face down with ten, long swords stabbed into his back.
“The Ten of Swords reversed. It is an inevitable end.”
“You know just how to cheer me up, don't you?”
“It also means regeneration and recovery. A new beginning. You must let go and accept the pain that has to come. You have to endure if you wish to see a new day. Nothing is going to come easy for you.”
Remy gave a solemn nod and turned over the final card. Death riding on a pale, white horse.
“I don’t need you to tell me what that one means. I know it can't be good.”
Madame Rousseau shook her head at his ignorance and smiled.
“No, Remy Laveau. This is change and transformation. Do not fear the future. It is only the death of our past.”
“So, seeing Death is a good thing?”
“It can be. For now, we will all experience such pain and loss, but we will fight through it if the right steps are taken. Fight through it, Remy. Fight through the pain and the doubt, and lead us into a new day. The cards say it can be done. I know that you are the one to do it.”
THE BOOK OF DANIEL II
Jacob walked into the reception of the Bukowski Unit in West Livingston, Texas armed only with a single pistol, tucked into the back of his jeans. The real weapon was the phone that he carried in his hand. He approached the reception desk where a uniformed guard sat behind a wall of glass, reading about all of the horrible things going on in the world in her newspaper. Jacob gently tapped on the glass to get her attention. She looked up from her paper and appeared to be annoyed by the disturbance.
“I'm sorry, sir, but all visitation has been suspended for the foreseeable future.”
Jacob did not move. He stood rooted to the spot and stared at the guard's face, trying to recall what her name was.
“Did you hear me, sir?”
“I have an appointment,” said Jacob. “You're going to let me in.”
“Not here you don't. We're closed to everybody until the situation out there calms down.”
“It's Janine Ruffalo, right? 352 Prairie Lane?”
Her eyes just about popped out of her head at the sound of her address. She threw the paper to the floor and stood to face him.
“I'm going to call for some backup, and if you're not out that door by the time they get here, they are gonna toss you out on your ass.”
Jacob tsked at her.
“That would be a shame. Your daughter's life depends on your co-operation, Janine.”
Jacob could see the fear in her eyes as she brought a shocked hand up to her mouth. Just the reaction that he was looking for. He raised up his phone so that she could see the screen. On the screen was a live video of her twelve-year-old daughter with a gag in her mouth and a gun at her head.
“That's your daughter. If you don't do exactly as I say, then my friend will make sure that you don't have a daughter to go home to.”
“Oh God no, please. I will do anything you ask.”
She even got down on her knees and grovelled.
“Get up, Janine. You're embarrassing yourself. All I want you to do is to escort me to the cell of Daniel Blanc. He is currently on death row, prisoner 66012. Do you think you can do that for me?”
She got back to her feet in a panic.
“Of course, but there are other guards. They won't let you walk through.”
“Let me worry about the other guards. You worry about your daughter.”
Janine nodded through the tears and went to work opening a series of doors for Jacob. They made it through three locked doors before they encountered their first guard.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What is this, Janine? The warden was clear. No outsiders.”
Jacob looked at the guard's face and identified him as Lucas Beck.
“Show me Lucas Beck's wife,” Jacob said to his phone.
“Janine, what the fuck is this?”
Janine stayed silent as Jacob raised up the phone and showed Lucas Beck a live video of his crying wife with a gun to her head.
“You son of a bitch!”
Lucas marched towards Jacob with a furrowed, angry brow, but stopped when Jacob raised up a finger.
“I'd calm down if I were you. All I want is Daniel Blanc. Deliver him to me, and your wife will live.”
“Daniel Blanc? The hell you want with that fruitcake?”
“That is between Daniel Blanc and me. I will no longer be needing you, Janine. Lucas should be able to show me the rest of the way without blubbering in my ears. I want you to go home and keep this business to yourself. If you do that for me, then you will be with your daughter before this day is over.”
“Please. Just let her go. I've done everything you asked.”
“Just this one more thing, Janine. I promise.”
Janine seemed unsure, but there were no other options available to her. She left Jacob alone with Correctional Officer Lucas Beck.
“Lead the way, Mr. Beck.”
Twice more they were stopped by guards in their path and twice more Jacob spoke into his phone to conjure up the faces of relatives and loved ones. Slowly, he emptied out the prison of its staff with one familiar face at a time until all that was left was Lucas Beck escorting Jacob towards death row. They walked until Jacob placed
a hand upon the door of the cell containing prisoner 66012.
“This is the one?”
The escort nodded.
“That's Daniel Blanc.”
“Then give me the keys and be on your way.”
“My wife?”
“She will be safe. You have my word.”
“It’s already open.”
Jacob gave Lucas a cold glare.
“There’s another guard inside,” Lucas quickly explained. Jacob nodded stiffly.
“Go now.”
Lucas Beck ran as fast as he could away from Jacob and the situation before Jacob could change his mind. Jacob opened the door and prepared for what was on the other side.
Correctional Officer Bill Brunson had returned to Daniel Blanc's cell every night just as he had promised. Daniel could hear the cell door open over the pap-pap sounds of Bill's punches. Bill appeared to not hear a thing, such was his intent focus on hurting Daniel. Daniel started to laugh hysterically as he spat a gob of blood to the floor.
“What's so God damned funny?” Bill demanded.
“Don't worry, you'll soon have the punch line. It's a killer.”
A hard elbow to the jaw dropped Daniel to the floor. It was there that he started to pray.
“The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
A kick to the ribs flipped Daniel onto his back.
“You take those words out of your mouth. You ain't no real Christian.”
Daniel continued, though his breathing was laboured.
“He restoreth my soul... He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness... for his name's sake.”
“I guess I'm going to have to start pulling teeth. We'll see how good your prayers are then.”
With a great effort, Daniel Blanc managed to get back to his feet and held Bill Brunson’s eyes with his own. He spread his arms out wide in a Christ-like pose.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”
Bill could hear the click from behind his head and felt the press of a cold barrel against his skull. He raised his hands up above his head almost instantly, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped his fear. Jacob stood with the gun in his hand as Daniel Blanc continued his prayer.
“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.”
Daniel placed his hands upon Bill's shoulders and forced him down to his knees. Bill joined his hands together in prayer and whimpered. A smile was visible through the blood on Daniel's lips as he saw the man humbled before him.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Daniel looked upon his rescuer for the first time.
“Hello, friend. My name is Daniel Blanc.”
“Jacob.”
Daniel nodded as if the name made perfect sense.
“Jacob, I do not wish for Mr. Brunson here to be harmed. I have other plans for him. I believe that he mentioned something about extracting teeth.”
“What should I do with his family?”
Daniel’s face lit up like he was a child at a candy store.
“He has a family?”
Jacob pulled out his phone and handed it over to Daniel.
“A wife and a son. Both in our possession.”
Daniel looked at the screen and saw that the two of them were visible. They were on their knees and crying.
“Don’t you touch them!” Bill shouted. “They have nothing to do with this!”
Daniel eagerly skipped back in front of Bill to show him what was on the screen. His family cried all the harder when they saw Bill’s face.
“I love you,” Bill told them. “We’re just gonna figure this out. Just…”
“Kill them,” Daniel commanded.
Guns fired, and Bill screamed like he was the one getting shot. He sagged to the floor and wailed from his foetal position. Daniel danced around his body and laughed.
“It’s a new day! A glorious day!”
Daniel tossed the phone back to Jacob.
“What about the other families?” Jacob asked. “We used them to get the co-operation of the other guards.”
Daniel thought it over for a moment before saying,
“Kill them too.”
“Sir?” came a voice from the other end of the phone.
“You heard the man,” Jacob instructed.
There were more screams, and gunshots as Jacob hung up the call.
“Walk with me,” said Daniel as he left the cell that had been his home for the past three years. Daniel skipped through the corridors gleefully and entered the main cell block unimpeded as Jacob trailed behind. Prisoners called out to him as he passed, shouting questions and voicing their confusion. Daniel just smiled vacantly in their direction and proceeded to the control centre in the middle of the cell block. There he composed himself, sat down in front of a microphone and broadcasted his words to the entire prison.
“My name is Daniel Blanc, prisoner 66012, formerly of death row. The angels have seen fit to give me a reprieve. That means that this prison and your lives now belong to me. The end times are coming, boys. We must all stand and be judged before the Lord. I know that in this building we house some of the most vile and wretched examples of humanity. What I say to you is this - God is merciful. It is not too late for you to be forgiven and earn a place by his side in the kingdom of Heaven. God needs an army, gentlemen. He wants you to be that army. This is how you will atone for your sins. We will move from town to town and cleanse this world of sin one person at a time until only The Heirs of Salvation remain. There is just one small trial for those of you listening to me now before we begin this path. Only the best of you are worthy of service in this army, so what I want you to do for me is take a long, hard look at the man or men sharing your cell. That person is now your enemy. In the name of God, you must strike him down if you ever hope to be free of this place. The last man standing in every cell will be set free to serve the Lord. Those that don't participate will be left to starve. Make it quick, gentlemen.”
Ralph Sanders was the first to act. He was four years into a ten-year sentence for armed robbery. His cellmate was Harry Young, guilty of rape. Ralph bashed Harry's head against the wall so hard that his skull cracked. When Harry fell to the floor, Ralph finished the job with a series of vicious head stomps. This was how he joined God's army.
Burt Walker grabbed the sharpened toothbrush shiv he kept hidden under his pillow and spilled the guts of his cellmate before he even had time to process the situation. In another cell further down, Toby Peters had his eyes pushed into his head as Dave Turner put his thumbs into the sockets and pressed down hard. He only stopped when the screams did.
Daniel Blanc listened to the cries of the dying men with his feet on top of the control centre desk. He listened to the shouted pleas for God's mercy. He listened until there was nothing to listen to at all. When the silence fell, it was sudden. Only the strong remained. Daniel got up from his chair and inspected the cell block. People watched him pass, but this time they didn't say a word. They looked through him with their thousand-yard stares. Every set of eyes that drew breath now belonged to a stone-cold killer. Blood fell like rain from the upper cells as it flowed off the side of the walkway.
“They'll do,” said Daniel as Jacob caught up to him. “They'll do.”
2 DAYS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Daniel Blanc buttoned his shirt and threw the Confederate grey over his shoulders, putting his arms into the sleeves. He swayed from side to side as the 18-wheeler truck he was standing in the back of traversed over bumpy terrain. Tracey whimpered in the bed behind him with the covers pulled up to her chin. A shiny ring on her finger, and a new shiner on her cheek. The large trailer th
at the 18-wheeler hauled had been converted into a lavish, mobile bedroom. It had gas lamps, a carpeted floor, and walls of painted board. Nailed onto the walls were the works of Claude Monet, Edouard Manet, and Pierre-Auguste Renoir. All of the paintings had been liberated from the Dallas Museum of Art for Daniel's personal enjoyment.
Daniel finished dressing and turned back to place a gentle hand on Tracey's head. She recoiled away from his touch and looked up with fear, anticipating that she might be struck again at any moment.
“It gets worse for you if you continue to resist me. You are my wife now, and it is your duty to satisfy your husband. If you fail to perform your duty, then I will continue to force my satisfaction. Neither of us wants that.”
Daniel leaned in close and placed a kiss upon the bruise on Tracey’s cheek. She winced as the 18-wheeler came to an abrupt stop. A moment later there came a knock on the trailer door.
“Come,” Daniel bellowed.
The metal door rose up like a projector screen and disappeared into nothing. It was the faces of Jacob and Sam that they saw, standing in the rain, in front of a halted convoy.
“I think you should see something up ahead,” said Jacob.
Daniel nodded and jumped down from the trailer as Jacob opened an umbrella over his head. Daniel took the umbrella and walked through the mud with Jacob leading the way.
“Come along, Charles. We don't want to keep the surprise waiting.”
Sam locked eyes with his mother and spotted the bruise on her cheek. She averted her eyes away from his, and he obediently followed at Daniel's heel. At the head of the convoy, they saw angel statues swinging in the breeze from the nooses around their necks. Daniel's eyes passed over the sign below.
WELCOME TO NEW SODOM: WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD
He shook his head in disgust.
“Do you see what they have done, Charles? Do you see the beauty they have destroyed?”
Sam said nothing. He had been almost mute since the death of his father, only speaking when absolutely necessary or provoked. Daniel stepped forward and caressed the cheek of the swinging, stone angel. The rain on its face flooded over the eyes and dropped like tears. It was a sight that made Daniel bow his head in thought. Jacob approached from behind and cleared his throat.