by Rockow, B.
Chris had a wife named Gloria. She was petite and quiet. Gloria had given Chris four daughters. He wanted to keep trying and eek out a son, but Gloria’s burden with the four girls was taxing enough. Over the past couple years Gloria found convenient excuses for avoiding marital communion with her husband. Headaches, backaches, fatigue, the excuse didn’t matter so much to Gloria. She simply did not want another child.
And this drove Chris mad.
So mad, in fact, that Chris offered to use condoms. He wanted a boy, but even more than that, he needed sex. Gloria denied the simple request, quoting a sermon that Jacob had given about modern sexuality and the abhorrent practice of birth control.
“It’s just not right,” Gloria said to her husband. “And the Bible supports my choice. If you want a family of God, you follow God’s word. And that’s that.”
But Chris’s mind was too much like that of a satyr to accept Gloria’s response as a final solution. He was marginally satisfied by the stability of a faithful wife, the kids, the nine to five job. But he couldn’t live without sex. It took a few months for Chris to simmer and stew before he set foot on the path of infidelity, but when he did decide to stray the choice was clear. He would ravage Jacob’s wife. Her name was Savannah.
Savannah was a stunning country beauty. She stood with perfect posture at five foot nine inches. Her breasts always swelled. Her chocolate brown hair was normally tucked back in a bun, which gave her this aura of authority that most men naturally submitted to. She was smart, in the real sense of the word. She never went to college but growing up on the family pig farm made her strong headed, mouthy, and tough. She could hold her own with any hog farmer. And even though Savannah was a farm girl first and foremost, her mother trained her daughter to be a lady second. Savannah was fond of simple, classic, attractive Midwestern fashion. Her look was always country and clean. And undeniably sexy.
Chris had been screwing Savannah for a year. He was screwing Savannah so good that she had become pregnant. She was a month along, and they didn’t know if it was going to be a boy or a girl yet. Savannah decided to be surprised.
“Savannah, can you be a doll and grab my snack bag?” Jacob said.
The wife batted her eyes. “Of course my love,” she said. “And I must say, the way you get these kids singing is so beautiful. It just melts my heart.”
Jacob leaned in and kissed Savannah’s forehead. She cooed.
Gloria paused her crochet and observed the couple’s interaction from the other side of the aisle. Envy stirred in her chest. She wished so bad that Chris would exchange sweet little niceties with her the way Jacob did with Savannah.
“Attention campers!” Jacob said. “It’s our first official snack time. Reach into your packs and grab something sweet, something salty, or a little bit of both.”
The bus full of campers happily dug into their chocolate chip cookies, potato chips, cheesy crackers, and juice boxes. Jacob and Savannah had one boy on the bus. They had named him Richard after Jacob’s grandfather. He was seven years old, and this was his first trip to camp. Richard stood up from his seat at the back end of the bus and walked up the center aisle. He tapped his mother on the shoulder.
“All I’ve got is carrots mama,” the boy said.
Savannah brushed her fingers through the boy’s hair. “I know sweetie,” she said. “They’re healthy. You want to do well at camp, don’t you?”
“I do mama,” Richie said.
“You want to be the best, don’t you? The strongest, fastest camper there?”
“I do mama.”
Savannah smiled warmly. “Carrots are a superfood. Only super heroes can eat superfood. So go back there and munch on those carrots. And when you’re the best camper at camp, you’ll know exactly what got you there.”
Little Richie silently accepted his mother’s explanation. He turned around and ran back down the center aisle, whooshing his arms as if he was Superman flying through the clouds.
“He’s a heck of a nice boy,” Gloria said to Savannah. “You and Jacob really did a great job.”
Savannah blushed and put on a demure face. “Richard’s a work in progress,” she said. “You should have seen him at age three. An absolute demon child.”
Gloria looked shocked, but she was obviously humored. “Jennifer was exactly the same when she was that age. My Lord she wouldn’t listen. And that attitude. You know one time I was cooking dinner and Jennifer came up to me with the darndest thing. She was about three at the time. She comes up to me when I’m stirring the marinara, tugs on my dress, and tells me straight up that she’s the boss of the house now. She had her hands on her hips and everything.”
“That’s cute,” Savannah said. “But Richard was literally a demon child. He would run around and scream bloody murder until ten, eleven at night. He would piss and shit himself on purpose at the most inopportune times.”
“Like when?” Gloria asked.
Savannah leaned over the center bus aisle and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Church,” she whispered.
“Oh my.”
“That’s not half of it. He would poop himself and when we would take him out to the car for a diaper change, he would scream and holler vile profanities, invoking the name of Satan, and taking the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Oh my Lord,” Gloria said. “Where was all this coming from?”
“Well we told Pastor Bob what was going on. What he said was...”
A loud bang stole the two ladies from their conversation. The bus slowed to a halt.
“Oh hell,” Chris said. “The bus has a flat.”
“There’s no need to swear,” Gloria said.
Savannah rubbed her husband’s shoulder. “Honey, step out there and see what’s wrong.”
“Attention campers!” Jacob said. “It looks like the bus has a flat tire. I want everybody to be on their best behavior while Brother Chris and I figure out what to do. In fact, this is a great opportunity for y’all to study up on the word. Open up to Zechariah 14. It’s tough reading, but definitely puts things in perspective.”
Jacob stepped out of the bus to assess the situation. Chris just shook his head and followed along. The two men noticed right away that this wasn’t just a single flat tire. Both front tires were blown out. Jacob walked to the back left of the bus, and Chris to the rear right.
“They’re goners,” Chris said.
“I’ll be,” Jacob said. “I’ve never in my days seen six tires blow at once.”
“Well fuck me Jesus,” Chris said. “It’s a hundred degrees out here in the shade. The last farmhouse was five, six miles back.”
“Somebody will come by,” Jacob said. “We’ll flag them down. Chipper up, Chris. This is a small obstacle for the Lord to remove. Have faith.”
“I’m done with faith. I’ve had enough.”
Jacob walked over to Chris and put his hand on his shoulder. “Let us pray.”
Chris stepped back and pushed Jacob’s hand away. “You’re thirty five years old and still believe in that imaginary bullshit. Drop the act, man. God’s not gonna help us. God doesn’t give two shits about this flat tire. There are starving kids in bumfuck Africa. Mothers are getting blown up in Syria. Shit, even in our own damn country you’ve got shootings and rapes and hunger. The Lord doesn’t step in for any of it. So cut the shit, Jake. You’re not fooling anybody.”
Jacob was unmoved. “You’re in despair. Satan has hold of your heart. Let us dispel the wickedness and set you free. Father, who art in heaven--.”
Chris started waving his arms. “Stop, stop, stop the shit,” he said. “Listen, if you’ve gotta keep the act up in front of Savannah, I get it. She’s a hot piece of ass. She was raised proper. I get it man. I would do the same. But we’re out here in the middle of bumfuck Kansas and all six of these tires are popped. Now let’s start using our damned brains here.”
Chris folded his arms across his chest and paced back and forth. The muggy Kansas air enveloped him like a
blanket. Sweat gathered at the ridge of his brow. He looked anxious. He could smell something off in the air. It wasn’t the corn, the amber wheat, or the cows in the barn. He smelled danger. He smelled death.
Jacob looked up the road. “We ran over something.”
“Yeah? No shit?” Chris said. He shook his head, and looked back up the road. They did run over something. “Oh shit, look back there Jake. A spike strip.”
The two men jogged back down the road. Fifty feet back the bus went over a full blown spike strip, the kind that they imagined cops would use in the line of duty. They approached the spike strip with caution and confusion.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see this fucking thing,” Chris said with frustration. “I want answers. Who put this damn thing out here?”
“You got that right,” Jacob said. “Let’s dial 911.” He pulled out his cell phone, dialed 911, and clicked send. He waited for the call to connect. But there was nothing. “Hey Chris, try your phone. Mine’s acting up.”
Chris pulled out his flip phone and dialed emergency services with the same result. “No signal. Damn. Damn it.”
“Alright Chris, we’re not going to panic. We’re going to go back to the bus, let everybody know what’s going on, and hatch a plan. We’re Glen Elder Campers, nothing stands in our way,” he said with a wink.
“I’ll stay here in case anybody drives by,” Chris said.
“It’s a plan.”
Jacob whistled a Bible song as he walked back to the bus. Chris punched the air in frustration. His whole life was built up on appearances: the church, Gloria, his job’s good wage. He was a leader in the church, but didn’t believe a word of it. He was married to Gloria, but didn’t live up to those vows. He wasn’t even loyal to his friend Jacob.
The frustration with his own lies were mounting. And the blown out tires put him over the edge. He couldn’t avoid the ugly truths any longer. He vowed to come clean with his infidelities once the camping trip was over. He would divorce Gloria, admit his affair to Jacob, leave the Glen Elder Church, and make it on his own. This conviction brought solace to Chris as the Kansas sun beat down on him.
Presently, two large black vehicles appeared on the road’s horizon up ahead. They sped rapidly towards the bus. As they got closer Chris noticed that they were two Humvees, and they took up both lanes of the two lane highway. Seconds later the two military vehicles were parked in front of the bus. Chris knew that there was something very, very wrong.
Four large men, huge men, suited up in all black paramilitary uniforms hopped out of each Humvee. Their faces were horrifying, as if the devil chiseled them out from hell’s own stone. Fiery red hair lit up their skulls. The giants wielded automatic weapons and quickly formed a line to await their orders.
Following the soldiers Chris saw what he thought was a demon. It was, like the soldiers, at least eight feet tall, massive around the shoulders and chest, with arms like Chris had never seen. Although the beast stood on the legs of a man, it possessed a head of a massive bull. Its face was covered in black hair. Its eyes were big black orbs in the center, encircled by ruby. Unlike the soldiers who were completely covered in black fatigues, this beast only wore camo pants and black boots. The bull man’s body was ripped. The soldiers gave this freak of nature their full attention.
Chris hesitated at first, out of pure shock, but came to and realized that he had to get back to the bus. This group looked bloodthirsty. He crept back to the bus and around its side. The passengers, full of young campers, were already in fits about what was transpiring outside of the bus. Chris slowly worked his way under the bus. His idea was to crawl under and make his way undetected to the door.
His plan didn’t get far. Two hands wrapped around his ankles and dragged Chris back out from under the bus.
“We’ve got him,” a deep voice said.
“Get off me shithead.” Chris tried kicking his way free, but the giant that had hold of him was at least three times his size. He had never seen a man this large in his life. The soldier’s face looked like a bag of leather, filled massive bones. Chris locked eyes with the soldier. They were glazed over and through them Chris could literally see the pits of hell.
The rest of the soldiers quickly surrounded Chris. The bull man joined them. Right away Chris noticed the bull man was wearing a mask. An incredibly realistic mask, but a mask nonetheless. He locked its red eyes onto Chris and looked him up and down. He snorted with force as he breathed in and out.
“A woman you have on that bus,” the bull man said. His accent was thick and German. “Her name is Savannah. Her brother fucked up. And now it’s time to pay the price.”
Chris was still being restrained by the soldier that pulled him out from under the bus. “What is this shit? Who are you?”
“My name is Grantha,” the bull man said. “We are of the Orobu race.”
Chris tried to pull away from the soldier’s grip. The giant backhanded Chris, knocking a couple teeth out from his mouth. Chris spit them out on the asphalt. He looked back up at the bull man. “Real men don’t wear masks,” Chris said. “You’re a coward.”
Grantha could smell this human’s own weakness. “Not as much of a coward as you.”
Chris chuckled softly. His chuckle turned into a laugh. His laugh into a guffaw. “You don’t know me,” he said defiantly. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, you’re nothing more than the turds I send down the toilet. You don’t scare me.”
“Chris? What’s going on? Who are these people?” Jacob appeared from around the corner. In short order he was subdued by two of the soldiers. He resisted much more vehemently than Chris did, but his efforts were just as futile. One of the soldiers took Jacob’s arm and twisted it until it snapped. Jacob let out blood curdling screams, as his arm flailed stupidly at his side. When he finally quieted down, the soldiers brought him to stand face to face with Chris. Grantha stood at their side.
“Two of you are standing now,” Grantha said. He looked side to side at both of the men. “I will give you ten minutes. After that time, I want to see only one of alive. If you resist, if you practice compassion, then both of you will die.” Grantha pointed to the kids on the bus. “Along with all of them”
Jacob tried to pull away from his captors. His heart thudded against his ribcage. He prayed to Jesus inwardly, so that this giant bull headed demon would be slain. The Orobu soldier grabbed hold of Jacob’s broken arm, and twisted it again. The pain shot through Jacob’s body like lightning. It was unbearable. “Not the kids,” Jacob said through gritted teeth. “You’re not getting those kids.”
Grantha looked up at the bus. The campers had gathered at the windows. They were like meerkats peering out over a dune. Their eyes were bigger than the moon. Grantha sneered, and all the kids shot back down into their seats. But for just a moment. It wasn’t long before they crawled back to their perch to await the next move. “One of you dies, and they live,” Grantha said. “But, they will watch.”
Jacob looked up and saw his son Richard. He looked lost. “The Lord is my shepherd,” Jacob prayed. “I shall not want. He lets me lie down in green pastures. He leads me by the still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in the path of righteousness for his name’s sake.”
“God damnit Jacob,” Chris said. The gravity of the situation was starting to sink in for Chris. He was done with living in denial, in a web of lies. He accepted the situation, and was ready for battle; he was ready to wrestle with life and death. “The prayers are unnecessary right now. We’ve been buddies for nine, ten years now. We know each other pretty damn well. We know which of us is the more righteous. We know who follows the Lord’s word more faithfully. What we don’t know is who is willing to sacrifice themselves so that the other may live on.”
Tears welled up in Jacob’s eyes. “Listen Chris,” he said. “You’ve got four daughters. You’ve got a wonderful wife. You’ve got a life that you earned, built up from nothing. My life has been a blessing every step of the way. Y
ours has been blood, sweat, and tears. The choice is simple.”
Chris lowered his head. “Before we go on, there are confessions I must make. I am a sinner.”
“As am I,” Jacob said.
“You don’t understand,” Chris said. He struggled with the words, but he felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. “Somewhere in the Bible it says that a man who commits adultery has no sense. That he who does it destroys himself. That he gets wounds and dishonor and the disgrace cannot be wiped away.” Chris paused and looked up. He locked eyes with Jacob. Chris prepared to bare his soul and his sins. “I’ve gone above and beyond that. I’ve broken old laws, my friend. Old laws that are meant to keep the machine running. I deserve to die by your hand.”
Jacob received his friend’s confession, and saw it as an act of courage. “You are strong, Chris,” he said. “And infidelity is a great sin. But it can be forgiven. God forgives, and is almighty. The Lord will protect us now, and bring these monsters to ruin. They are the abomination. They are the godless, not us. Their appetites are an hellish and of Satan. Ours are of truth and mercy, which will always win.”
Chris listened with rapt attention. But his friend was wrong. Nothing, not even God, was going to save them now.
“I have sinned,” Jacob said. “I have lied, and taken the Lord’s name in vain, and I have coveted another’s life. Your life, Chris.”
“God damnit Jake,” Chris said. “You’ve been forgiven a hundred times over. You are the nicest guy I know.” He looked up at Jacob, and he was finally ready to tell the truth. “Honor is something I’ve long since gambled for carnal reward. Look at me, Jake. The wealth of my spirit is spent. I bare my soul before you and the Lord, so that I may die in peace. I’ve spoiled your home. I have stood between you and your wife. I’ve been screwing her, Jake. For about a year. And she’s pregnant with my child.”