Read Raymond Benson - 2012 - Hitman: Damnation Online
Authors: Raymond Benson
The
mansion was a small palace, separated from the rest of Greenhill by a tall,
electrified wire fence. Wilkins was such a celebrity that he needed protection.
While most Church members were trustworthy and worshipped the man, there had
been a couple of instances in which mentally unbalanced persons had tried to
get into the mansion to cause the reverend some harm. Hence, the electric fence,
security teams, and extra precautions had been installed. There were also a few
other buildings on the inside of the fence—a barn, which was both a storage
facility and a garage for Wilkins’s personal limousine, and a guardhouse.
The
gate was unmanned. Anyone who wanted to open it had to have a keycard, which
was issued to only a few select staff members. Helen slipped hers through the
magnetic slot, and the mechanism clicked. She pushed open the gate and stepped
through. It locked automatically behind her.
She
then walked down the paved path to Greenhill’s Main Street, where Church
members congregated for various activities. There was a general store, a
medical facility, a recreation hall, a gym, and other amenities one would find
in any subdivision of an American city. Three apartment buildings held over a
hundred units for singles and families. As Greenhill was the Church of Will’s
main headquarters, many members lived in the apartments and worked for the
organization. Wilkins owned a private jet and thus had an airstrip built on the
premises. The main attraction was the beautiful church, a large sanctuary used
for Sunday services and other meetings. It resembled a massive Roman Catholic
cathedral, and every side was covered in gorgeous stained-glass windows. When
Wilkins was in town, he usually delivered the sermons. Even non-Church members
would come to the compound from all over the country to hear him. He was
essentially a rock star.
Greenhill
was fairly isolated from other communities in Virginia. Located just east of
Interstate 95, the compound was south of Coal Landing and west of
Arkendale
. Around the northwest bend of the lake were other
villages, streets, and recreational facilities. Willow Landing Marina wasn’t
too far. Nevertheless, the area Greenhill occupied on the north
shore
of
Aquia
Lake was private
and quiet. No member was a prisoner, of course. Anyone could come and go as
they pleased. Residents often visited Stafford,
Garrisonville
,
and
Garrisonville
Estates, the closest sizable towns.
And if one wanted to go to a big city, Washington, D.C., and its sprawling
suburbs were less than an hour’s drive away.
Helen
entered her building, inspected her personal mailbox in the lobby—it was always
empty, but she checked it daily, anyway—and then climbed the stairs to the
second floor. Her one-bedroom apartment was as good as anything one might find
in any city, and the rent was nominal since she worked for the Church. It was
comfortable and homey, decorated with knickknacks she’d collected over the
years and with Church of Will iconography. Her favorite was a framed,
autographed poster of Charlie Wilkins, who pointed at the viewer à la Uncle Sam
and asked his signature question in a dialogue bubble: “Will
You
?”
The Church was all about taking control of one’s destiny and finding and
applying inner strength to get through life on a daily basis. Wilkins believed
that each individual should follow the “Will” of the common man, collectively
bound as a desire to be governed only by the “Supreme One” and not by men or
women who made false promises and led people into partisan politics, paths of
war, and financial catastrophe. The Supreme One was not necessarily “God” but
could be if that was what an individual wanted to believe. The Church of Will
allowed its members to interpret the religion in any way they wanted, as long
as certain creeds were followed.
She
poured a can of soup into a pot to heat up on the stove,
then
went to the bathroom to wash her face and hands. As she dried off, she gazed at
her features and repeated the mantra Wilkins had drilled into her.
I
am pretty. I am worthy. I am Helen McAdams and I have the Will.
Most
men found her attractive, she thought. Helen felt them gazing at her.
And why not?
She was thirty-one years old, thin, and had a
pleasant face. She had dated a few of the Church members, but nothing ever came
of it. Her shyness and insecurity played a big part in her failure to land a
lasting relationship. Her college boyfriend—well, she didn’t like to dwell on what
happened there. Since then, Helen’s love life had been closer to the latter end
of the hit-or-miss scale.
They
say “loneliness is just a word,” she thought to herself.
Six
o’clock.
Time to turn on the TV.
She
returned to the living room, switched on the set, and went back to the kitchen
to pour the hot soup into a bowl. She grabbed the open but corked bottle of
white wine from the fridge, poured a glass, and then took her supper to the
couch in front of the television.
The
news was just ending. The top story concerned the New Model Army’s attack that
morning on an Internal Revenue Service building in Cincinnati, Ohio. Three
bombs had gone off simultaneously, destroying an entire side of the structure.
Luckily, it was prior to rush hour, so only forty-something people were
injured.
Two fatalities.
If the explosions had
occurred during the workday, the death toll would have been disastrous. In many
ways, Helen was sympathetic to the NMA’s cause, but she was strongly against
violence. The fact that innocent people were sometimes “collateral damage,” as
Cromwell liked to call it, was deplorable. Still, the New Model Army and other
splinter militant groups were successful at inciting the unrest that existed in
the country. Helen felt that if enough people were unhappy, the government
would have to change to accommodate them.
Finally,
Wilkins’s aptly titled variety show, Will You
?,
came
on, with its catchy theme song. Will You?
was
one of
the highest-rated TV programs, and it wasn’t on a regular network or cable
channel. Charlie Wilkins owned his own cable network, and he filled it with not
only his signature show but also other Church of Will–sponsored dramas and
sitcoms, made-for-TV movies, news features, and even cartoons for children.
Millions of viewers tuned in. Will You?
was
part talk
show, part musical variety acts, part political rhetoric, and part evangelical
recruitment. The show was taped in a studio inside the mansion at Greenhill
when Wilkins was on the premises (otherwise, reruns were broadcast). Tickets
were a hot commodity, and it was said that the show attracted more tourists
than the Lincoln and Washington Monuments or the Smithsonian Institute.
At
last, the reverend appeared to welcome the studio audience and viewers at home.
Charlie
Wilkins was in his sixties; he had a magnificent mane of white hair and
sparkling blue eyes that melted the hearts of housewives everywhere. He was
terribly handsome, which had a lot to do with his appeal. When he raised one
eyebrow and grinned—a signature trait often lampooned by stand-up comics—his
eyes sparkled and he exuded goodwill. Mostly it was his charisma and charm that
won people over. He was witty, upbeat, and he spoke with the voice of an angel.
The smooth timbre of his baritone speech had the power to mesmerize listeners.
If he had claimed to be the Second Coming, which he didn’t, it was likely that
a lot of people would have believed him. There were critics, however. The
extremely outspoken ones considered Wilkins just another wacko leading a
“cult.” Others were more moderate. While they dismissed Wilkins’s “godliness,”
they admitted he was a smart and fascinating personality who had earned and
deserved respect. Even Americans unsold on Wilkins thought he was entertaining
at the very least.
After
the preliminary stand-up monologue and jokes that rivaled anything heard on
late-night variety shows, Wilkins announced, “Tonight’s guest is none other
than presidential candidate Senator Dana Shipley Linder. I know the
anticipation is building, so let’s get the word from our sponsor over with
quickly and get to the main event! We’ll be right back.”
As
always, Wilkins’s own companies provided commercials for the network. The
reverend’s fast-food restaurant chain, Charlie’s, had become second only to
McDonald’s as the go-to eatery for people on the run. The food was more
expensive than other chain fare, but Charlie’s specialized in guaranteed
healthy, organic products. The grass-fed, free-range beef and chicken were from
farms owned by the Church of Will, and no artificial chemicals were added to
the meat or vegetables. Helen liked it a lot. There was a Charlie’s in the
Greenhill Town Center, and she ate there several times a week. Everyone in
America was familiar with the Charlie’s logo—a cartoon depiction of Wilkins’s
white shock of hair with the word “Charlie’s” scribbled where the face would
be.
The
program resumed and the reverend introduced Dana Linder. As the main challenger
to the incumbent president, Mark Burdett, Linder’s star had risen rapidly after
the creation of a new party to rival the Democrats and Republicans. The America
First Party began as a grass-roots movement but quickly grew to a nationwide
tidal wave. Blaming the Democrats and Republicans for excessive and endless
partisan fighting in Congress, the America First Party promised to end all
that. Already, America First Party candidates had taken many seats in the House
and Senate in the midterm elections. With the presidential election coming up
in just over a month, the pundits were predicting an upset. Burdett would lose
out on a second term, and for the first time in recent history, a
non-Republican or -Democrat would take the White House. Linder was the woman
likely to fulfill that prediction.
Dana
Shipley Linder was in her late thirties and had served as a representative from
Maryland. She was tall, dark-haired, and attractive. There was no question that
she was intelligent and had her finger on the pulse of America. Helen admired
her.
“Thank
you for coming on the show, Dana.”
“Charlie, all you have to do is ask, you know that.
I’d do
anything for my childhood preacher,” she replied, beaming.
Wilkins
laughed and rolled his eyes. “Some of you may not know that, but, yes, it’s
true, when Dana and her brother, Darren, were orphaned as children, I was their
pastor and family friend. I looked out for them. I like to think I gave them
both the guidance that helped them grow into splendid adults.”
“You
certainly did, Charlie,” she said. “And you were so young then!”
He
wagged
a finger at her.
“Now, now!
I’m still young! And so are you! And that reminds me, Dana.
Happy
birthday!”
The
audience applauded, and the candidate blushed and waved away the adulation. “
Charlie, that
was a month ago. You’re a little late.”
“But
I haven’t seen you since. I understand you had a spectacular party.”
“Oh,
we did. John and the children and I threw quite the hootenanny in Towson. I’m
so sorry you were away and couldn’t make it.”
“I
am too. You know I would have been there if I could.” He took her hands and
held them. “Anyway, I hope it was a happy occasion.”
“It
was. Of course, it would have been better if … if Darren had been there.”
Wilkins
nodded with a sympathetic look on his face, as the audience applauded again.
Many members whistled their appreciation.
Helen
considered that much of Linder’s popularity was because she had a hero brother.
Darren Shipley was a marine who had died in Iraq while on an important mission
to sweep insurgents out of a building. There was a massive explosion, and
Darren perished in the flames. A savvy media reporter covered Shipley’s demise,
and the America First Party capitalized on it. The public embraced the story of
the handsome marine and his gorgeous sister, he a national hero who sacrificed
his life for his country, and she a politician who was destined to change
America.