Enter the Rebirth (Enter the... Book 3)

by Thomas Gondolfi

  Father Daniel had been about to chastise the man, but instead said, “Isaac Barebones, are you certain?”

  Rubbing the dust from his eyes, Isaac replied, “I saw him there as certain as I see you here, Father.” The congregation gasped and began whispering amongst themselves.

  Nothing good ever arrived on the Fiveroad, an ancient path to the west of the Field of Bakers. In the days before the scorching time, the Fiveroad brought the people of many lands past the Field of Bakers, but few stopped to see this simple community. To go on the Fiveroad south was to go to the City of Lost Angels, the place where Businessman fell from Heaven. To go on the Fiveroad north was to go to the City of Sacramentals, so named because once great men lived there, named Governor and Politician. Both said they were friend to the Farmer, but they both came under the spell of Businessman, fell for his lies, and betrayed the Farmer. The Farmer told the people to go to the city of Politician, and put every last man, woman and child to the sword, so that Businessman could never harm the Farmer through them again. The people complied with Farmer’s wishes when the scorching time began, and since then the place had been known as the City of Sacramentals. No one from the valley ever went either north or south on the Fiveroad. The Farmer forbade them entry into the lands destroyed by Businessman.

  Father Daniel turned to the congregation.

  “Sister Rebecca, please take the children to the basement of the Parish Center and lock the door.”

  “Why, Father?” asked Riley, who had a seat on the Parish Council and was not known to fear much. “Is this stranger a threat to us? Perhaps he brings news of other parishes.” She stood firm in the second pew, her voice calming the others as they looked to Daniel.

  “It is a precaution, Sister Riley, nothing more.”

  “Nothing good ever arrived on the Fiveroad,” whispered Caleb, looking to the rest of the congregation for confirmation.

  “Yes, yes, we know, Caleb,” dismissed Father Daniel. “So let us prepare to welcome the stranger among us, but let us also be ready in case it is an emissary of Businessman! Sister Rebecca, take the children to the Parish Center.” He turned to look at the altar servers. “Eli and Levi, you may stay, but stay close to me and run to the sacristy if there is any trouble.”

  Daniel then took his place behind the altar again. “Juan, Cameron, please stand on either side of the tabernacle and be ready.” Two of the larger and burlier men moved to the side of the altar and took places on either side of the golden box.

  “Why do you want the Eucharistic ministers up there now, Father?” Riley asked.

  “My daughter, you ask too many questions. They are there if needed to protect the tabernacle and they are there if we continue with mass and will serve the body of Bingo. Is that to your satisfaction?” She sat rather sheepishly, but still with a slight air of defiance. Farmer save the man that marries that one, he thought, admittedly unkindly.

  “Come, come, brothers and sisters. Let this stranger hear our voices and know we are the people of the Farmer, and we are not afraid. Let us sing ‘How Great Thou Art.’

  “O Lord my Dog, when I in awesome wonder, Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made . . .”

  As they sang, they heard someone walking up the steps of the church and the door to the narthex open slowly. The congregation turned and stared.

  A man. A single man. A man dressed unlike any other man they had ever seen. He wore a cloth-covered helmet with a dark glass faceplate. The bottom part of the faceplate had two white cylinders sticking out opposite each other. His entire body was covered in clothing that blended different colors together so that from a distance he would be difficult to see against the sand and desert. His belt had many implements hanging off it. In his gloved hands, he carried a gun that looked like some kind of rifle. A pack sat low on his back, containing a bedroll underneath. He looked somewhat like the soldiers from the Before time, but different. His boots, like his gloves, were somehow both black and silver at the same time. Daniel moved forward to the edge of the altar.

  The intruder stood staring at the congregation, then set down his weapon, reached up and began undoing straps and other fasteners that Daniel could not see or comprehend. A hiss of air escaping something was followed by the man taking hold of either side of his helmet and pulling up. It lifted off to reveal the oldest man Daniel thought he had ever seen.

  “Hi . . . uh, hello,” the man stammered and then squinted. “Sorry, not used to this,” he said, gesturing to the air around him. “Y’know, even though the windows are stained glass it is freakin’ bright in here, right? And this air. Y’all live in this?” He then realized everyone was staring at him.

  “Oh my God. I mean, I’m sorry. I mean, I interrupted your service, didn’t I. I am so sorry. I’ve been walking for a few weeks, ever since my ATV gave out and my partner got . . . Well, I’m alone now and have been for a while, and I’m not doing my job very well, am I?”

  “And what is your job, Stranger?” Father Daniel asked in a quiet but forceful voice.

  “My name is Major Carl Lufteufel, Fifth U.S. Army, Second North American Expeditionary Force, formerly of Fort Sam Houston.” He gave a grim chuckle. “Believe it or not, Texas is even worse than this place. I was sent out with my team to find communities of survivors. We are rebuilding. The new capital of the United States is in Boulder, Colorado. Do y’all know where that is? It’s in the mountains. Much cooler up there.” He seemed to notice they were all staring at him without responding in any way, as if he were speaking a language they did not understand. “May I come in?”

  “Come, Major Carl Lufteufel, come in and be welcome in this house of the Farmer. I am Father Daniel Sanchez and this is our congregation.” He gestured toward the pews.

  The man walked down the aisle through the center of the nave, smiling and nodding to the community. Only Riley nodded back.

  “Thanks for your welcome, Father. I must admit, I did not expect to find anyone in Bakersfield. I was on my way to the Bay Area to meet with some of the community leaders there.”

  The congregation whispered darkly.

  Daniel held up a hand and they quieted. “I am sorry, Major Carl Lufteufel. We are a small and humble people and those who have ventured west have not returned. We think Farmer must have sent you here so that you will not go to the dangerous places that Farmer has forbidden.”

  “Oh . . . I’m sorry, who is this farmer? Is he your leader?”

  The congregation gasped as if he had slapped Father Daniel. Father Daniel, however, made no response at first. Then he asked, “Do you not have the Romathlic faith in Bouldercolorado or Texas?”

  “The what?”

  “The Romathlic Church. The one true faith. Yes, in these times, we are tolerant of our other brethren, the Protestors such as the Lutherins and the Baptizers. Indeed, all three churches in the Field of Bakers work together often, and celebrate the secular holidays together. Are you one of those other faiths?” He smiled. “Relax, I won’t try and convert you—although it would be better for you if I did.”

  The congregation laughed.

  The man looked at the congregation and said, “Thank you, Father. No—we do not have the Romathlic faith back where I come from.”

  “Perhaps Farmer has sent you to us so that we might send missionaries back with you then. You have at least heard of the Holy Name of Bingo?”

  The man let out the slightest laugh. It seems as if he tried very hard not to, but it just slipped out before he pretended it was a cough. “No,” he said, “I don’t think we have.”

  That was when Father Daniel knew.

  The man looked from Father Daniel to the congregation. “Is all of Bakersfield—sorry—the Field of Bakers—like this? Like y’all, I mean?”

  “How do you mean? Children of God?” Daniel asked carefully.

  “Children is right. Jesus, the oldest one of you can’t be more than sixteen.”

  “I have seen eighteen summers come and go,” Father Daniel sole
mnly intoned.

  “I mean no disrespect, Father, but you and all of your congregation are very young. Y’all have been left alone here. I don’t know what happened, although based on what has happened in other communities, I can guess. I am very impressed you and your community are surviving, even thriving after the great drought.” He stopped. Thought. “Do y’all know what solar flares are? Global warming?”

  “You speak of the scorching times.” Father Daniel said. It was not a question.

  “Yes, I guess I do. Most of the nation—that’s the United States—that’s the country you live in—was badly affected by the changes in climate. As I said, we are reorganizing the nation. The president and the government are in Boulder. We are making food, we are reaching out and rebuilding. Goddamn, it is hot in here,” he said, wiping his head and the back of his neck. “I would very much like to bring all y’all to a place where it is not nearly so hot, where there is water all the time and where you will all grow up safe and healthy.”

  Daniel recognized some of the words he used. “So you are telling us,” he gestured to the congregation, “that Politician is in Boudlercolorado and wants us to join him there.”

  The man smiled. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

  Father Daniel’s voice fell to a whisper. “Is Businessman there?”

  The man smiled. “I don’t know if you ever heard of the saying that the business of America is business. We’ve been working on building up the nation’s economy again. I’m guessing you all barter here. Currency is alive and well in the United States. We even actually have the internet up and running again after the flares. We have been in contact with other nations. Mexico is pretty much gone, but Canada did well. We’re working with them on trade and other exchanges. It will only be a matter of time before the nation is strong and productive. The center of the country around the Rockies and Great Plains is stable and running. The Eastern Seaboard is pretty much beneath the Atlantic Ocean now, since the icepacks melted. Kind of ironic—y’all have no water here and the other side of the country doesn’t exist because it’s under water. Pittsburgh is beachfront property now.”

  He smiled at Daniel, as if he had made a joke Daniel did not get. He then turned back to the congregation.

  “Still, I’d like to stay with you for a few days so we can learn about each other and maybe begin moving this community to somewhere more sustainable.”

  From the slight gesture from Father Daniel, Cameron moved quickly from the tabernacle. In one stroke he slit the stranger’s throat. He had to hit hard and fast to cut through all the cloth around his neck, but his blade was sharp and strong, used for harvesting cactus. He struck so deep the man’s head remained connected only by a few bits of skin. He attacked so fast the man’s expression never changed—a slight smile on his lips and playing around his eyes.

  Father Daniel took the great chalice from Juan, the one they had used with the dog on the cross. He caught the man’s blood in the big chalice. Once the blood stopped flowing, Cameron and Juan, who had been holding the man up, dragged his body off the altar and into the sacristy.

  Daniel turned to the congregation, who had not reacted to anything that had played out in front of them, other than to watch it happen.

  “The Farmer and the Most Holy Name of Bingo have given us a miracle. Businessman sent this man to try to convince us to leave the Field of Bakers and go with him. The Farmer allowed us to see through his lies.”

  Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had he passed the trial Farmer had set for him, they once again had blood to drink for their sacrifice. They could save the water for another mass. Another day. Another day of life.

  He raised the chalice.

  “Blessed are you, O Farmer, our God, Lord of all creation. Through your goodness we have this blood to offer. It shall become our spiritual drink.”

  Daniel turned to his congregation. “Does Bingo not remind us in his Book that ‘whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life’? Behold the water of the well of everlasting life. Bingo has sent us this trial, and since we have passed he has given us this blood to drink so we might live in him. Come forth and drink the blood of the living sacrifice.”

  One by one the congregants came forward.

  Peregrinus

  Peter Talley

  Editor: We can’t always choose those we call family,

  but we can choose the actions of family that we will condone.

  The indifferent moon lights up the sky. Beneath the pale glow we watch the enemy reclaim their dead. We had been swift, leaving few alive.

  I am Peregrinus, Third Javelin of Thirty-two. I roam the beastly bowels of dust and fire. My squad is my life. We decimate the armies of the Worthless.

  Tomorrow we ride against the Wind Scales, for their sage is a false shaman. He stole women and water from the caravan. We claimed them two seasons ago. The Herds give us stock and we grant protection. They are generous to their soldiers. No one takes from us and lives.

  Tonight we offered mercy to the Gravel Ravens. We conceded some ground but took watch over our victory on the battlefield. Let the corpse collectors fend off the carrion tribes. My people will not feel their teeth. The savages from the Hyena and Vulture packs will feast well. Such is the way of these barbarians. Border conflicts mean death. The disputed hills that we now guard are no longer needed by the Gravel Ravens. They are few and frail. We are few and prodigious.

  The Peregrinus are nomadic warriors. We desire no home but where we choose to rest after battle. It is the best way to withstand the ravages of the beastly bowels of dust and fire. You must be unshakable to walk with my squad. We all start as stabbers—foot soldiers who are given sandals and scrap blades. Only the worthiest move on to being slicers, pikeholders, or javelineers.

  Toff is my sharpener. We number as four but her presence keeps us maintained. The woman is my friend and the hardest of her kind. Toff joined us after the battle with Brass Law. She could have chosen to die with her tribe, but I watched her earn the right to fight as stabber. She took my brother’s ear as a tribute during that first raid. Anyone able to hurt a slicer deserves the chance to claim a new purpose as Peregrinus. Her skills as healer-mechanic won her a valued position with the best of the eight squads. She has also become my now-lover. There are some who say this is unwise. I care not for false words. I won the comfort of her body and words. In return I continue to train Toff as a javelineer. She is worthy of holding the pilum. I am thankful, however, that she seeks credit by serving.

  Joyle is a pikeholder. He has guarded this squad for many seasons. Toff jokes that this man is all muscle and no brain. I’ve trained him to duel both beast and thug with the precision of a mount machine. It takes a fearless warrior to act as a pikeholder. They stand alongside the javelineers, blocking and destroying the Worthless. The armor he wears provides little defense. Speed and determination, not metal, keeps us alive. Joyle has many an honor scar to prove his worth on the field.

  Moikya left a Herd caravan at a young age to become a slicer. She is the youngest of the squad and the deadliest. Moikya acts as scout assessor. I trust and fear this woman in equal measure. Her beauty and abilities make me question my restraint. I have known no other to be so practiced in the actions of delivering silent death. Moikya alone removed a chieftain, four high priests, and seven guards in one night. This legendary campaign had us name Moikya as Rex Venomious. This title has only been bestowed to one other slicer, more than fifty seasons ago.

  The new leader of the Gravel Ravens salutes us. She raises a gloved hand filled with sand. We watch as the woman’s bruised face stares up at us from below the trash hill. She releases the sand through her fingers. They have disbanded and accept that they are now grains of dust. The Gravel Ravens are no more. We care not for where they will go next. They may find sanctuary with a Herd caravan or die as Worthless.
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br />   Toff whistles to the former Gravel Raven. She signals by custom that she recognizes the victory of the Peregrinus. The defeated fought with credit. There will be no more aggression. Toff raises her pilum triumphantly and screeches at the moon.

  The heat of the next morning is comforting. We break camp before sunrise. The journey to the Wind Scales’ territory will bring us close to the edge of the frontier. We had crossed over the borderline of the frontier during the Two Season Skirmish. It had been a hard place where carelessness meant losing yourself to the dust and fire.

  Joyle and Toff want to chance nature in that realm. This would shorten the travel time but would also put us in danger of facing bramble storms. I’ve seen man and beast torn apart from those mixes of high winds and debris. Moikya says the odds of us escaping the storms this time of year are small. We decide to take the longer route in order to find a settlement and restock.

  We see the dark smoke before we witness the caved-in walls of the tin fortress. Landing Green is supposed to be off-limits to the Worthless. It is a watering hole and pump station for mount machines. I respect Landing Green’s leader. Gorrid had fought with us in the conflict over the war band zones. I had asked him to join the ranks of Peregrinus. He declined due to the limp in his right leg.

  Buzzards circle over Landing Green. I know the settlement lay in ruins before Moikya reports back from her scouting expedition. Gorrid is dead. He and the rest of his seventeen had been burned, along with their fuel. This is the work of Dune Witch Radicals. Radicals are even more reviled than Worthless. They burn and rape anything they see.

  Within the wreckage of Landing Green we find an injured marauder left to die by their cult. Moikya makes him talk. He knew enough of our language for us to track the Radicals. We would be back to kill their colony after confronting the sage. The injured one means nothing to us, so we leave him to be dealt with by nature.