The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 13: The Long Way Home (Part 5 of 8)

The cold air was merciful after the miserable journey.  As the drive dragged on, Horus had realized he was in the back of a truck with at least eight other people.  He seemed to be the only one hooded and bound.  When he began testing the ropes chafing his wrists, two men squeezed up to him on either side, pressing hard, muscular arms against him.  One of them placed a hand on his shoulder, but they let their presence restrain him rather than force.  They stayed there letting him know nothing would go unnoticed.

Now, the same two men were leading him up a stone path.  Their identities were only known by the continuity of their touch.  When he was untied from the bench, their rough grips had immediately replaced the ropes. 

Horus had barely taken three steps before running his toes into a large stone and stumbling forward.  His captors strained to keep him from hitting the ground, pressing their weight against his and cursing at the effort.  When he was upright again, they moved at a snail's pace in an attempt to keep him from tripping on the rough terrain.

There was a deep chill to the air—a coldness that seemed inherent to the landscape like there had never been heat in this place.  Horus hadn't felt such bitter cold in years.  Not in Phoenix, not in Maui, and not in Los Angeles.  It was a memory from his childhood.  Wherever they had taken him, it was winter. 

Horus tried to guess at his location but he could only deduce: the mountains.  He couldn't be certain how long he had been unconscious, but he doubted enough time had passed to drive that far north.  Flagstaff would make sense, but perhaps he was only thinking that because its low temperatures showed up on the weather report when he was getting dressed that morning.

The path changed to an even set of steps.  Long flat slabs led further upward in a gradual, curving route.  Behind the wind, there was muffled murmuring somewhere up ahead.  It was the sound of voices shielded behind wood and glass.  Every once in a while there was a communal call.  It reminded him of church with the congregation crying, amen.  Only the response was something else.  It was longer and more complex.

A door opened and a gust of feverish heat billowed out along with the subtle sound of many bodies—benches creaking, clothes rustling, feet shifting, throats coughing.

A man was addressing the crowd just like a preacher, in a deep, commanding voice. "...and the eleventh cycle marks the beginning of the end.  He has prophesized that the Beast will rise up and tear down the governments of man.  The Holy Beast will spread righteous anarchy across the lands.  Before its mighty roar, men and women will be as animals.  As animals, they will kill.  As animals, they will fuck.  And as animals, they will die before the Beast.  Only the strongest will be worthy enough to inherit this new world.  There will be no place for lambs among the Holy Beast's pack."

The men leading Horus stopped at the threshold and wavered there between heat and cold.  There was something about their stillness and their posture that hinted at respect and reverence.

The speaker cleared his throat.  "When night falls, the weak fall.  When night reigns, we shall rule, so it is written."

There was a chorus of, "So it is written.  So it is sung."

"Ah," the preacher said dramatically, and Horus felt the congregation shift.  He could hear them all moving in their seats.  He sensed their eyes on him.

"Judas has arrived.  Bring him up here."

They hauled him down the aisle.  Horus felt the waves of hate directed at him.  There was almost a subdued growl in the air as he was paraded through this ungodly church.

"Let everyone see the man who tried to kill the great Dark Prince.  A failed attempt.  We are all living proof that the Dark Prince is eternal.  Each of us are vessels through which he lives on forever.  And with his guidance, we shall ascend and rule at the feet of the Holy Beast."

There was a pause and the air was filled with electricity.  The only noise in the hall was the scuffling of Horus's feet as he was dragged along.  But there was a tense hum beneath the quiet as everyone waited for the next words.

   "Look at this pathetic specimen.  How could he have thought that someone so insignificant could kill someone as great as Strafer.  He is a fool.  But does his foolishness make him worthy of forgiveness?  Does his failure pardon his transgression?"

"No," the throng shouted.

"No.  The Holy Beast does not forgive and neither shall we."

They pulled Horus up the steps.  He tried using his weight against them.  He wanted no part in this madness.  But more hands grabbed at him and hoisted him up onto the dais.  The heat of bright lights burned the skin on his face.  The insane reverend was breathing next to him.  It was the slight pant of mild effort or perhaps anticipation.

"Look at the culprit," the voice said and then Horus's hood was ripped off.  "Here is the traitor who will be made to suffer, as the prophecies tell us."

Horus felt his felt reality fading away, as his nightmares became real.  The preacher looked just like Kyle Silver.  So did the men holding him.  So did many in the audience—both men and women.  Others were half-Kyles having the hair and clothes and maybe the nose or a tattoo.  What the hell was this?

They were all on their feet with fists in the air, cheering.  "Long live the Beast!  Long live the Beast!"  

 At the very back of the church, above the open doors was a golden wheel.  An exact replica of the strange symbol Kyle had painted that day on the bandstand.  Flanking it were two blood-red banners.  Each one was marked with a large white circle and the black image of a baying wolf's head.

***

Author's Note: So the truth surrounding Horus is finally out. I would love to know what you think. Did anyone guess cult of Kyle "Strafer" Silver lookalikes? (For those of you who have read I Was Owen Stewart, you'll notice I have recycled this idea from there.) Regardless, of whether you like the revelation or not, I hope you'll see some interesting possibilities set up here for Book Two.