The Apostates (46 page)

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay with the fleet. I
have some patients that will need my attention soon. I’m
off,” Blaze informed them. As she was making for the exit, Gale moved to catch
up with her.

“Blaze, mind if I join you in the mess?” Gale asked when she caught up to her side.

“Sure, come on. Let’s get some food,” Blaze invited her. The two exited the bridge, heading for the mess hall.

“Captain Eldridge, we’re going to go
ashore. Can you keep you guns trained on the town? We need to leverage the
threat of shelling the town in case anything goes wrong,” Hades was deadly
serious. It would be the only ace up his sleeve surrounded by unknown threats.

“Will do, Hades. You know I will have you
all covered.” Captain Eldridge was confident as usual.

“Shall we?” Pale-Silence gestured to the exit. Pale-Silence, Angel-Seraphim, and Hades-Perdition moved below decks to reach the armory. A guard unlocked it at the sight of the Apostate’s approach. Hades-Perdition, who had already geared up, waited outside the armory. The other two stepped inside the cramped chamber, surrounded with assault rifles and side arms of many makes. Angel-Seraphim picked up her old Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle, that she had hauled with her during her trek north. She stowed it over her shoulder and sheathed its bayonet. Pale-Silence grabbed a belt, which he fastened to his waist. Attached to the belt was a pair of titanium tomahawks: a type of hatchet weapon that had originated in the cultures of the Natives of the Eastern United States in antiquity. The tomahawk could be used in hand or thrown at a target. He also selected a scoped assault rifle from a weapon rack. They finished gearing up and hurried above deck, where a crew was busy lowering a small motorboat into the calm waters of the Bay of Panama via a winch and pulley system. The three started down a rope ladder that extended down the hull of the battleship and dropped into the boat. A fourth man attended the motor and rudder for the three Apostates.

The boat sped away from the gray, hulk of a battleship. The fleet had halted a good five miles out to sea from the mouth of the Strait. The water was calm so the going was made easy. The late afternoon sun was hot but showed signs of abating as it lost altitude in the sky. There was a light breeze on the sea that kept the humidity tolerable. Hades’s thoughts grew concerned with the onset of the evening; he did not like the idea of going on this excursion at night. He continually scanned the fortress and the town with his riflescope, but then it occurred to him that they were watching him back and may mistake his reconnaissance gathering as a threat, so he stowed his weapon.

As the small motorboat drew closer to the shore the scale of the fortification became clear to the passengers. It was a three level behemoth, hexagonal in shape, with howitzers bristling on every face. Angel-Seraphim felt a slight joyous feeling overtake her as memories of happier times flooded her mind. She gazed at the town skyline, and remembered walking the streets with her father near the old town hall, where they skipped rocks down at the waterfront by Fort Noriega. She peered upon the imposing walls of the fort and then gazed upon banners that were draped down the sides, near the top of the structure. Her heart sank when it registered what she saw: the crude, black encircled pentagram sigil of the Societatum Pentagram. She remembered helping to paint some of the banners in the past. She recalled how Monsignor Carafa wanted the banners to be purposely crude and sloppy: it was his trademark.

“Hades, Pale! I know that sign. Those
people are bad. That pentagram, we have to turn back and attack them!” Angel
exclaimed, pointing toward the pentagram banner billowing in the wind.

“What? Are you certain?” Hades asked in
confusion.

“Yes! These are bad people, I used to be
among their rank!” Angel warned.

“Are these the people that you told me you
fled from, Angel?” Pale asked her showing concern.

“Yes, the pentagram: it’s the sigil of the
Societatum Pentagram. They were trying to conquer all of Central America when I
fled. I can’t believe they made it this far south!” Angel cried out. She wanted
to take control of the craft and turn it back around toward the fleet and have
them sail away, never to return.

“We don’t really know what the situation
is here. It could be they fly their banners to show subservience. It doesn’t
mean the people you speak of are here,” Hades suggested, looking through his
rifle scope at the fort again. Nothing looked out of sorts to him.

“We should go back, now!” Angel grew livid
that they continued onward.

“No. Look, this may be our only chance to
cross the Strait, and we have to do it. We have to get to the capital! Let’s at
least go and feel things out.” Hades had his mind made up, as they needed to meet
with the town leadership to see what they proposed.

“Fair enough, Master Hades, If you feel
like this is the most judicious course then I stand by you, with my tomahawks
at the ready should things go south,” Pale reaffirmed his commitment to the
cause with the stroking of one of his axes. It seemed his blood lust had gone
too long unfulfilled.

“Alright. If this is what we have to do, I
am in,” Angel agreed to move forward as well, albeit hesitantly.

So their motorboat moved onwards. It traveled under the shadow of the towering fort. A man stood on the shore with a flag, waving the boat onward to the marina at the foot of the fortress. The pilot at the rudder guided the boat along a wharf, and he moored the boat to it. The three Apostates stepped out of the boat and onto the wooden planks of the rickety dock. Further up the embankment, toward the foot of the fortress was a gate that was being opened. The three Apostates stood by anxiously to see what surprise lay in store for them behind the gate. As the doors were drawn open a gray car came sputtering out and traveled down the road leading to the docks of the marina. The car came to a stop and the driver rushed out and around to the passenger side door. He opened it for the woman who sat there. The dark-haired woman wore her hair piled on top of her head and what appeared to be a black evening gown. It had a slit that reached almost to the hip. She wore calf-high, black boots with a heel. Topping off the outfit was a white feather boa draped across her shoulders. Two armed men also exited the car, which the Apostates assumed were her bodyguards. The woman sashayed over to them. She stood for a moment looking at her query, then spoke,

“Greetings, travelers. I see that you
certainly know how to make an entrance. I am Manuela Noriega, head of the
Noriega family. I represent the merchant families of La Chorrera. Normally I
receive advanced notice when a force of your size comes seeking to cross the
Strait of Panama. So tell me, who you are and what are your intentions?”
Manuela paced in front of them, taking stock of their appearances and weapons.

“Miss Noriega, pleased to make your
acquaintance. I am Evan; my companions are Consuela and Morgan. Please accept
my apologies for your town not receiving advanced notice of our arrival. I am
truly sorry. I assure you that our group means no ill will. All we seek is safe
passage through the Panama Strait to be on our way to New Megiddo.” Hades said
calmly.

“Ah yes, I see, Evan. Well, aren’t you quite the stallion.” She strutted around Hades, making him feel uneasy.

“Well, yes. Ma’am I try,” Hades responded,
trying to discourage the scrutiny of himself further.

“Tell me, where do you all come from? More
to the point, what is your purpose?” Manuela prodded into their affairs. She
turned her glance to the odd looking, demon man, then gazed upon
Angel-Seraphim, who stared back with a look of suspicion.

“Miss Noriega, we are humble merchants,
hauling supplies for the upcoming Born Again Gathering in New Megiddo. We set
sail from California and must reach New Megiddo City in time for the event. We
employ armed escort in case of piracy. Perhaps we can come to some financial
arrangement to secure passage through the Strait?” Hades fabricated a cover
story on the fly.

Manuela walked back to the front of the
group to address them. She glanced at the three for another moment without
saying anything. Then she nodded and smiled.

“Yes, yes, we can work out all the contractual minutia later. First, how about the three of you come to my gathering hall. Surely you must be itching to relax after such a long journey? Feel free to have your personnel leave your vessels to enjoy what our town has to offer. Plenty of accommodations.” Manuela stated seductively.

“Miss Noriega! We definitely appreciate
your offer, we really do, but our fleet must be under way soon. It is paramount
that we reach New Megiddo City.” Hades tried to explain the urgency in their
situation.

“I completely understand your timetable,
but surely you can spare a night, and humor your host? Besides, you cannot pass
right now, anyway. I fear there has been a terrible accident in the Strait that
has blocked passage. Most tragic, fishing vessels collided and sank right in
the middle of the Strait. We are working to clear the wreckage. So, please, I
insist you join me.” Manuela strode back to her rustic Volkswagen, Kübelwagen.
The driver rushed to get her door and she took a seat, then he closed it behind her,
“Welcome to La Chorrera, Evan. I am sure you will enjoy your stay here.” She
said.

“Miss Noriega! One more thing: what can you tell me about those Pentagram banners you fly on the fortress?” Hades asked her hoping, to glean information about the Order.

“Oh, that? It’s just a sign of devotion to the Lord!” With that, the car sped away back through the gates of the fortress. The gates were left open with the anticipation that the Apostates would follow Manuela’s lead.

“I don’t like it, at all. You know it’s a
trap, right?” Angel asked rhetorically. She unslung her rifle.

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. We can’t
go in looking like we’re about to shoot people. Let’s see what she has to say,”
Hades argued.

“I’m telling you, they created that boating accident to block off the Strait. We’re just sitting at their mercy,” Angel continued to argue.

“Noted. It could very well be the case.
But, we’re far from defenseless,” Hades pointed toward the line of battleships
that screened the vulnerable ships of the fleet.

“I concur with Master Perdition, here. I believe we should venture forth and compile intelligence on La Chorrera. We can still communicate with our fleet. If the proverbial excrement collides with the rotary fan, we can have our battleships shell the town,” Pale explained.

“Alright, I’ll inform Captain Eldridge to
order to keep the fleet on high
alert, and combat ready,” Hades reassured everyone that they would not be taken
easily if it was a trap.

“Fine. But, I still think that we will not
like what we find inside the town,” Angel was skeptical and on edge.

“Now we venture into the jaws of the
beast,” Pale said forebodingly. The three Apostates set out up the embankment
on the path to the gate of Fort Noriega. The tension in the air increased with
every step they took closer to the imposing fortress of cement and steel.
Angel looked up to one of the pentagram banners that hung over the side of the
fort. The bottom of the banner was wet; a drop of the mystery liquid
hit her cheek and she recoiled. She wiped it off her face with her hand. The
liquid was thick and viscous. Was this black paint or blood? She could not
tell. She took the omen as an ill one, and all the violent experiences with
Order came rushing back to fill her head as she walked.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

“Where did you get that fancy suit anyway? It’s a shame you got it all muddy!” Teri Greenbaum exclaimed, making a vain attempt to remove caked-on mud from Dmitri Zhukov’s suit.

“I come from a very prominent background. My father is a Cardinal in the Church of New Megiddo leadership, and I am the head of the Zhukov family agricultural enterprises. This...is where the nice suits come from. You should see my penthouse suite in downtown Santa Cruz! Perhaps I will take you there some day!” Dmitri laid a finger on the tip of Teri’s nose and made a “boop” sound. She giggled with delight. and flashed eyes that were enamored with him.

“But, do you even still have all of this?
I mean, why were the Ranger’s after you?” Teri made an attempt at critical
thinking.

“Because, my dear, just like your family
and these good people, I also believe the establishment corrupt. They have branded
me a traitor for it! They have my honorable father. I will not rest until he is
free!” Dmitri proclaimed for the starry-eyed, young woman.

“You mentioned agriculture? I’ve got a
green thumb. What’s your business like?” Teri asked with piqued curiosity.

“We do very important work! Very important, indeed. Our scientists improve crops; we build upon what nature provided, and make better, stronger, more nutritiou,s and resilient to the elements. Of all the official, government-sanctioned cropsand all the main fruits, our organization comes up with the prototype seed. We distribute the seed to Virtuous farms which are contracted with the Regime, to grow the crops that keep your belly full.” He placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed it while flashing a smile. She flinched like she had been tickled and squealed with glee.

“Also, we seek out and report any illegal
farming operations, that do not follow proper Regime guidelines—at
least—that’s what I used to do. But, I assure you, when this farce is over
with and we overthrow the tyrants, I will resume my important work.” Dmitri looked
troubled for a moment, then, went back to smiling for the girl.

“Oh! We used to
have an urban farm. Does that mean we were doing something illegal?” Teri
scratched her head.

“Yes, yes. I am afraid so. But, now you are here,” Dmitri told her, looking deep into Teri’s eyes. The two of them were in Teri’s tent: a spacious, heavy canvas structure with a metal spine, that she shared with her brother. The tent was separated in two via a retractable canvas flap that spanned its middle. They were the only individual’s in the Greenbaum’s cluster of family tents currently. Her mother, Gertrude, was on kitchen detail for the day, her brother, Jacob, was out fortifying the perimeter, and her father, Ernest, was helping Head Ranger Rick with the logistics of running the camp. The families were allowed to leave one member to tend encampments while others were away at work detail: that was Teri’s job, and was she ever tending camp.

“My family was talking about a resistance movement
planning something against the Rangers! Maybe you can help them? You seem to
have connections!” Teri blurted without really thinking.

“Are they indeed? This could be mutually beneficial for all of us. You’re such a smart and beautiful girl,” Dmitri told her. He stroked his fingers through the hair above her ear. She smiled at him and then planted a kiss upon his lips. This caught him by surprisel. She pushed him, back first, down on her bed and removed her shirt, exposing her black lacy, floral-print bra. He scrambled to remove his own shirt, and she helped him, all while they continued to kiss. Dmitri grabbed her and roughly pivoted her so that she was underneath him with her back on the bed. Teri was surprised by the rough treatment, but it turned her on so she laughed it off. He kissed her once more and groped her chest. She moaned with delight. He ground against her with his pelvis. She arched her back and thrust back in response. He reached down to undo her pants and she stopped him, “No, I’m on my period!” she whispered. He froze up. Exasperated he dropped his head on her stomach.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think we—”
She was interrupted.

“Father...father...please!” Dmitri
whimpered.

“What?” She asked him, puzzled.

“No, father! I won’t...I love her!” He
began to sob on her stomach.

“What—why are you crying? What’s wrong?”
She put a hand on his head. She had a troubled look on her face. Suddenly his
face shot up to meet her gaze. It was red with fury.

“I won’t! I won’t do it! You can’t make me! I fucking love her!” Dmitri grabbed her by the throat and began to throttle her. Teri was terrified and tried to scream but only managed to get out a guttural, croaking noise. Dmitri had a glazed-over look in his eyes. He was somewhere else, but his strength and rage were not. He squeezed tighter and she gasped for air and choked, flailing her arms in a vain attempt to free herself. Teri rapidly lost strength and the world was fading away.

Teri would have died had it not been for
the Ranger entering the tent, sticking his rifle around Dmitri’s neck, and
putting him in a strangle hold with the length of his gun. The tables were
turned on him and he relinquished his grip on Teri’s neck. The Ranger picked Dmitri
up off the ground with his head and neck caught between the rifle and the armor
over his chest. Dmitri was now hacking and gasping for air, as his legs flailed while
he tried to gain a footing.

“Father! Please save me! Father, save me!” he managed to get out between hacks. Teri looked at him and thought he was praying to God. She held her neck and recoiled at the scene of violence. With one quick jerk to the side with the Ranger’s left arm, he wrenched Dmitri’s head in an unnatural direction. A series of snaps could be heard, then, Dmitri struggled no more. The Ranger let the limp body fall to the floor.

“Good thing I had my eye on that one,” the
Ranger said casually.

“Y-You killed him!” Teri managed to get
out while wailing.

“Yes, and he was about to kill you. You
wouldn’t have been his first.” The Ranger tossed Teri her shirt. “You better
put that on. Things are about to happen,” The Ranger instructed her.

With a look of confusion, Teri quickly
pulled her shirt over her head. She cowered and sat with her legs tucked up
under her arms.

“Apostates, Apostates: this is Pride-Swarm. The time is now, I repeat, the time is now!” The supposed Ranger spoke through his neural implant. Teri wondering who he was talking to, but whoever it was it seemed to get results because she heard the sound of gunfire outside her tent.

“Get under the bed! Don’t come out! I’ll
be back for you,” the man who called himself Pride-Swarm checked his rifle and
then and ran out of the tent. Teri took the man’s advice and crawled under her
bed, where she tried to stay quiet, but the sobs just kept coming.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Inside Ranger Rick’s command tent, Ernest Greenbaum had been busy analyzing the inventory of the camp’s supplies. He had crunched the numbers as he always did for the past two weeks while they had waited for transport across the Great Lake. The ferry that had never come, the terrible living conditions in the camp, and the killing of several townspeople by Rangers during a scuffle had brought the situation to boiling-point. Ernest, who himself, was suspecting that his son would be found guilty by a Ranger inquiry into the matter, had taken no chances. Ernest had sought out the leaders of the brewing resistance among the townspeople. So, he plotted alongside the leadership. He kept a low profile and a stern poker face; he was good at that, having plenty of experience in business matters.

Ernest had figured he would be a valuable
member to the resistance because of his direct access to Ranger Rick’s command
center. So, this is where he found himself working when he received the message
from Pride-Swarm: a leading agitator among the camp’s resistance. Ernest became
nervous. He wondered why action was called so hastily, and why in the middle of
the day? When Ernest heard the sporadic gunfire outside he knew that events
would only escalate from here.

Ernest heard yells and cries outside in
the encampment, but he was in the heart of the Ranger command post. He couldn’t
just run out and join the others. Just then, Head Ranger Rick burst into his
command tent. He yelled at a subordinate outside,

“I don’t give a shit what you have to do! Put this mutiny down, whatever measures you need to take!” As he entered the tent he caught a glimpse of Ernest toiling away on the central table in the room. Ernest nodded in respect to the Ranger, who returned the nod. Ranger Rick walked over to a locker behind his desk, and he prepared to change his undershirt. He unfastened his armored cuirass. He also placed his sidearm on his desk. Ranger Rick began to speak to Ernest while he faced the locker, “God damned, ingrates! The lot of them. All we were ever doing was escorting them to the B.A.G.! They were all going to receive the Lord’s salvation! Now look at this mess. That’s why I like you, Ernest. You’re loyal. Always efficient, no questions asked!” Ranger Rick sprayed some deodorant under his arms. Ernest got up out of his seat, staring at the Head Ranger.

“Maybe I’ll have you go out there; talk some sense into that rabble. They would certainly listen to you. Tell them to lay down their arms. I can’t totally promise your safety, you realize? Might brand you a traitor. But, you’d risk that to be loyal, wouldn’t you, Ernest?” Head Ranger Rick rambled on. He pulled an undershirt over his head, and plucked out a fresh uniform button-up top from his locker and swung it over his shoulders. Ernest approached and stood over the side arm that laid on the desk.

“Of course, if you helped put down this rebellion, I’d make certain that you and your family were treated exceptionally. For the rest, however, I cannot promise them leniency. Someone will have to pay for this mess. They will be made an example of.” Head Ranger Rick finished buttoning his shirt and reached down for his metal cuirass. He began to refasten it.

“So, what do you say, Ernest? Ready to make New Megiddo proud? Do your duty?” The head Ranger asked. He reached down for his sidearm, and it wasn’t there. He heard the hammer cocking and turned around quickly.

“You’re right, Ranger Rick. Someone needs
to be made an example of.” Ernest pulled the trigger and sent a round flying
that hollowed out the core of the Ranger Rick’s head and deposited its contents
inside his locker. Ranger Rick’s body fell back against the locker. Ernest
rushed over to the entrance of the command tent and peeked out. He saw that the
Rangers were engaged elsewhere so he rushed out of the tent with the side arm
tucked into his waistline. Ernest made his way over toward the food service
area to try to find his wife.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

By the time the carnage had began, Jacob was
already exhausted from a full day’s work digging in the trenches. When the
firing started he had laid low and kept his shovel handy, for any attack he
could possibly launch on an unsuspecting Ranger. He could see that the Rangers
that had overseen his section were drawn off by the gunfire. So, now the men
around him were unsupervised, and so Jacob rallied five other laborers to rush
a guard tower position, just off a corner of the encampment. One Ranger remained
in the tower, and his attention was diverted elsewhere, firing across the camp,
at a group of resistance fighters who had overpowered Rangers and stolen their
guns.

Jacob and the other laborers stayed low and ran to the tower’s base via the half completed trench. The Ranger continued to trade fire with mutineers on the far side of the camp, unaware of Jacob’s band. One man used a shovel to force the locked door open, and the rest of the men poured in. Jacob and the other men ascended the internal staircase, then reached the top level. The sound of gunfire was close. Jacob signaled to the men on the count of three, that they would take the Ranger. On three, the men rushed the Ranger as he fired from the side of the tower. Most of the laborers stayed low but one man ran right out with his shovel held overhead, going for a wide swing and was unlucky enough to catch an incoming round to the chest, that had been aimed at the Ranger. The sound of the impact startled the Ranger, as he turned around to find the five laborers rushing him with shovels and picks. He tried to bring his rifle to bear, but before he could he was shot in the back by the mutineers from the far side of the camp.

Jacob sent a shovel flying into the
Ranger’s facemask. He dropped his rifle, which Jacob picked it up for himself.
Another man grabbed the Ranger’s side arm, and yet another took the Ranger’s
bayonet dagger. The other laborers found additional side arms in a locker, to
the rear of the room. As fast as the men stormed the tower, they were now
descending the stairs in an effort to find other areas of conflict.

Along the perimeter they traveled, using the trench they had dug as cover. They could hear the sound of a firefight getting closer. The group of armed laborers rounded a corner and halted. They spied a group of three Rangers huddled down behind building supplies, exchanging fire with a mob of mutineers. It was an asymmetrical engagement because the mutineers were not trained and they ran out, firing wildly, getting picked off, while the Rangers waited patiently, aiming. The Rangers fired in short, controlled bursts, as their training had instilled in them. The sight of seeing so many of his fellow townspeople being brought low enraged Jacob. The other laborers felt a similar anger. One of the laborers fired his sidearm, which ricocheted in the dirt near the group of Rangers. The Rangers flinched and reacted by instinct to the new threat on their flank. One Ranger returned fire catching the laborer in the throat. He hacked and gasped as he fell to the dirt. Shots now blanketed the area where the laborers crouched. They also returned a terrible hail of lead in the Ranger’s direction. None of the shots were particularly well placed, but some struck knees and an arm of two of the three Rangers. The one uninjured Ranger fired back, more effectively laying low another of Jacob’s company. Jacob felt piercing pain in his stomach and looked down to the sight of blood. The Ranger stood upright now, advancing slowly but surely as he fired. Jacob’s company of laborers were hit one after another, falling where they stood. Jacob crouched down behind the earthen embankment. He prayed to his God, as earth and rock were torn up all around his position, where bullets impacted.