Conspiracy at World's End

by James, Daz

“My job,” spoke the woman, aiming directly for his head. “You are to be executed.”

  Marlin felt his guts wrench inside, realizing he had left it too late. He had lost his sister; she was one of them now. He closed his eyes hoping for a swift end to ease the hurt in his heart.

  The two men sat by the fire not daring to look at one another. Sam no longer felt the pain of his injuries; his mind was consumed with his previous actions.

  This gay world was just so new and confusing to him. This would be nothing to a season homosexual, but to a new born it was confronting.

  Joh felt sick every time he remembered what had happened. Women were his poison, he was sure of it, unless that was indoctrinated by society. He could be a fag. He was just hiding from the truth.

  Maybe that is why he couldn’t make it work with a woman.

  Suddenly, Sam shook himself, scattering the thoughts that were bogging down his mental processes.

  He should be worried about Marlin. He was still a

  prisoner. He had to start talking to Joh to break the uncomfortable air between them.

  Sam cleared his throat causing Joh to jump in his seat, “We really have to get past this. We’ve got friends who are depending on both of us.”

  “I’m not a fag!”

  “I didn’t think you were.”

  “It was just the mushrooms,” spoke the biker, trying to kid himself more than anyone else.

  Sam nodded in agreement, “It’s not as if we’re playing by the same rules any more. That was the old Earth. Today, life’s different.”

  “Try telling the Enforcers that as they cart you off to a conversion camp.”

  “They don’t make the rules any more. We make our own.”

  “So, you don’t think I am a fag?”

  “It’s not up to me.”

  Silence descended between them, as they went over in their minds what was discussed.

  Joh uttered a reply, “First thing we need is a car…that bike will only take one at a time.”

  Sam smiled, sighing; now they were thinking practical again. He was worried about the state of his friends. They needed them.

  Suddenly, a deep charismatic voice shook them from their plans.

  The two men jumped to their feet, spinning around to find a hooded figure standing behind them. He was wearing a moss-green robe like those worn by a monk. He removed the cowl causing the two men to back away.

  The man was bald with piercing blue eyes and a gold painted symbol of the letter X in a circle upon his forehead.

  The man smiled, benevolently, “I’m Brother Remi. I was wondering if you needed assistance.”

  “Unless you can get us a car, we don’t need you,” spoke Joh, bluntly, as an icy chill crept into his bones.

  Remi continued to smile, remaining calm, “I believe that can be arranged. We have a vehicle.”

  “Who?”

  “The Church of the Forgotten Souls,” spoke the man. “Our chapel is just beyond that paddock.”

  Joh wasn’t so sure about this man, he was too cool for his liken but the offer of a car was priority in his mind. He followed after him, apprehensively.

  Cross heard the commotion coming from the back streets of Dubbo not far from where her mother lived. She was drawn to the noise like a moth to a flame. She had to see what the Enforcers were doing.

  It had taken her days to get here; another hour wouldn’t kill her reunion with Lila.

  When the coast was clear, Cross dashed across open ground, passing over a main road, ducking down a side street coming out upon a troop carrier.

  She noticed a busted doorway.

  Cross was about to investigate, when a person called out to her from a hedge. She made out a hulk, kneeling down, looking scared shitless.

  The woman raced across to him.

  Boofhead was grateful; finally someone could give him an order.

  “Please…tell me what to do?”

  “What’s up, honey?”

  “My friend is in there with those bad people. They will hurt her.”

  “Well…we’ll see about that,” spoke the woman, rummaging through her backpack.

  Cross took out a small travel bag, opening it up to reveal vials and tools to use against any threat.

  This required far more fire power than a pepper shaker.

  She remembered a pill bottle tucked away in her bag, plucking it out, uncapping it. She grabbed a vial, uncorking it, very gently pouring a couple of drops into the pill bottle.

  She placed the cap back on, packing up her tool

  bag, returning it to the backpack.

  She placed the bag in his lap, “When I say run…go! You understand?”

  The hulk nodded his head, gripping the bag, preparing to move.

  Cross bobbed down behind the hedge making her way to the front door. She peered inside the entrance.

  The woman gasped, recognizing her mother on the sofa looking terrified. She just needed a tiny distraction to get her mother out of there

  The woman took aim and lobbed the pill bottle through the door toward the back of the house away from her mother.

  When it hit the floor, an almighty explosion knocked her backwards, as a belch of fire spewed through the front door.

  She had miscalculated the amount of fuel. That is what sleep deprivation could cause. She thumped the ground, in anguish.

  When the explosion went off, Miranda turned in the direction of the noise giving Santanna the distraction she needed to act.

  She clenched a fist, swinging it out toward the

  traitor, connecting with her jaw, sending the woman flying through the air. Miranda hit the ground, dazed.

  Marlin jumped in front of his friend, “No! Stop! She is my sister.”

  “Not any more, ya fuckin dick head. She has gone to the dark side.”

  “I don’t care…I will never give up on her.”

  Marlin went to her side, helping his sister to rise, “What happened to you?”

  “You never came for me.”

  “I’m here now!”

  “It’s too late.” She pushed him away, “Just go!”

  “I can’t leave you behind…not again. We’re family!”

  “There is no point! I’m not your little sister,” spat the woman, rising to her feet, her busted lip beginning to bleed. “We have no family. It all went the day this place turned to hell.”

  Santanna grabbed him by the arm, “Come on! Leave the silly bitch! Let’s go while we have the chance.”

  His friend began to drag him away, Marlin threw her off him.

  He raced back to Miranda’s side, “That last day when we were together, mum was making scones while dad tried to light the BBQ…remember?”

  The woman began to laugh, she hadn’t done that in ages, “Dad singed his eye brows…you came out. I was planning on setting you up with Marsha Dean’s brother.”

  “The one who collected butterflies?”

  “And made origami cranes.”

  “He wasn’t gay.”

  “That walk said differently.”

  “He was pigeon-toed.”

  “Well, that seemed pretty gay.”

  He laughed, suddenly realizing his face was wet from tears.

  Miranda looked lost as she stared after him, unable to leave her predicament. She too had tears in her eyes. Marlin could see how conflicted his sister was.

  Santanna called out to him from the driver’s seat. He waved her down, not wanting to leave just yet.

  He could hear sirens blaring as Enforcers began investigating the explosion. They would have to go soon.

  He ran to Miranda, wrapping his arms around her, “I’m coming back. I am not going to abandon you again.”

  Marlin broke away from her, running toward the truck, leaping up into the passenger side. Santanna put the truck into gear and roared away.

  The Church of the Forgotten Soul was indeed in the next paddock. It was a run-down old church having battled with the elements. The
stain glass window at the front, that depicted Christ on the cross, was fractured; pieces were missing from the display.

  There was a car port beside the church where a van was stationed, they had a vehicle, perhaps Joh was wrong about his intuition.

  There were two Balinese-like torches by each side of the arch shaped entrance, their flames burned brightly like an Olympic cauldron.

  Sam stopped, noticing white, pasty face staring out from the small window at the bottom of the church wall. This window obviously looked down into the cellar. They looked like goblins.

  He tried to direction Joh’s attention toward the sight, but by then, the faces had gone. Joh coaxed him onward, ignoring his concerns.

  Brother Remi led them toward the entrance, prizing open the heavy wooden door. He stepped aside to let them pass by.

  They stepped into the chapel, the rows of pews in

  disarray, coated by dust. No one gave a mass here anymore.

  They were ushered to the front of the church.

  Suddenly, the two men caught the whiff of some noxious scent in the air. They began to feel light headed.

  From a side door, a procession began to step into

  the room; a woman at the front carried a cracked skull with burning herbs inside it. The smoke surrounded them like a fog. The brethren spanned out around the walls of the room as if to prevent the two strangers from leaving.

  Brother Remi took to the palpate presiding over everyone.

  The woman, with the burning incense, approached the two men, placing the skull down upon an altar.

  The two men back away, halting as they felt cold marble behind them. The woman’s intense gaze burned into their minds.

  They began to feel faint from the fumes, grabbing hold of each other to stay up. The woman took from a belt at her robe, a ceremonial dagger descending on the two men. They felt powerless to stop her.

  There cries of horror rose into the air, shattering the peace of the evening, as the woman carved an X into each forehead.

  “Welcome, brothers, to the Order of the Forgotten Souls,” called out Brother Remi, ignoring their pleas for help. “You’ll never want to leave here again.”

  His chilling smile was the last thing they saw before darkness swallowed up their consciousness.

  An old woman wandered down the main street in Dubbo humming a nursery rhyme that she once sang to her children.

  The woman waved a new knife in the air, excited

  by how sharp it was. It was small and compacted, but could still gut a human being.

  The woman was hobbling on aching legs, ignoring the claw marks on her back and dreaming of a banquet of delights once she found those infernal brats. Aunt Pat never gave up. She kept on fighting. She was born of strong stuff. Her body had been nourished from the meat sauce.

  Maybe it was time for a new line, perhaps a nice range of meat pies to satisfy her customers. This town looked ripe for a new business.

  The conniving cackle from her lips was the only sound that could be heard as she passed down the street.

  To be continued….

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