The Apostates (4 page)

“The Regime uses religion for control, but the ruling class is perverse—corrupt and immoral. I should know, I was raised within it, and I continue to
be a part of it. This is why I am working to bring it down,” ‘Sam’
concluded.

“You seem like a capable motherfucker with
connections. Why don’t you do it yourself instead of subjugating all of us?”
Gale-Whirlwind inquired with some rage.

“They know me well. I wouldn’t get very far. All of you are needed because you are an unknown quantity,” ‘Sam’ answered, paused for time, and then added, “At any rate, as bad as the Regime is, their Ministry of State Security secret police are the real threat. L.O.V.E. continues to terrorize the populace to keep order. Inquisitor Rodrigo is a mystery. I have nothing on the man—but make no mistake, he is probably the worst in the Regime. We can’t let them slaughter you all there. Expect to hear from me soon to end their presence in this region.” ‘Sam’ paused to take a breath.

“I think you all are aware that this year is a special one for the Regime. The B.A.G. is this year. But, there’s something wrong. The Reverend Wilhelm is talking like the Second Coming is upon us. Also, the Schrubbs are planning something big. We will be making preparations in the next few weeks to make our move. I will fill you all in when the time is right...One last matter. I am intentionally being vague about my plans. It seems that we have been infiltrated by the regime, so be careful. With this, I must disconnect. Hades-Perdition has further details about immediate plans. Good day all.” ‘Sam’ terminated the communication. All was silent in the infirmary.

Almost instantly the rest of the Apostates knew what was next. There would be a reckoning, so they all filed out of the infirmary until only one solitary figure was left standing: Ravine. He stood silent for a few empty minutes. He looked intently at Gale who was turned away from him. After a moment of awkward silence, Ravine tried to speak.

“You don’t need to say anything. You can’t say anything to make this okay,” she preemptively jabbed, “I may have been forcedly resurrected, and made to exist in the same space as you, but as far as I’m concerned nothing has changed. We’re both dead, and you’re dead to me.”

“Greta, just
listen to me. What did you expect me to do? After what happened back then, I
had no other choice,” he tried to explain.

“That is not my name. I’m dead, remember?
Please leave,” she dismissed him.

“Fine. Play it this way. Sooner or later
we’ll have to speak of what happened.” Ravine
reluctantly opened the large metal hatch and sealed it behind him and slowly walked through the cold, metal corridor.

Gale sat upright staring
blankly at the wall. She thought how she could easily break the glass of a
medicine cabinet, take a shard and finish the job she started. She thought
about how she could consume a bottle of pills or utilize a scalpel. But, then she
considered how suicide didn’t work the first time around. Gale hypothesized that she
was cursed to life—that nothing would break it.

She had thought about what Marco, now Ravine, did
before he took his own life. There would be no forgiveness. Part of her hated him and wanted him
dead, but she couldn’t deny that nagging feeling that she still loved him,
after all he had done.

Gale wondered what kind of freak show she
was forced to join. She contemplated what kind of people they were. It was
obvious that they all once were criminals, but she pondered what they were
actually capable of. She shared the infirmary with another patient who had been
a rapist, according to ‘Sam’. Surely, she thought, that he still had those urges from time to time.
Aside from his wound, what would stop him from coming into her room and having
his way with her? Gale remembered that ‘Sam’ had mentioned something about
enhancing her body’s capabilities through hacking her neural implant. She
wondered what she was capable of and what she could do to Lore-Fiction if he
tried to assault her.

“I’d probably rip his balls off with my
bionic arms.” She amused herself with the thought. Gale considered that maybe
with all these new abilities that it not might be so bad to contribute to the
effort to overthrow the Regime. After all, she did take her own life because
she did not want to live in the reality that the Regime had created. Only now
she just might be in a position to actively oppose the Regime. That was a
tempting thought.

Gale also contemplated what would happen to her if they failed. At best she would die a quick death. At the worst she would be captured alive by L.O.V.E. and tortured in some new and creative way. This was not an attractive prospect. Would she be in a position where she’d have to choose between death and capture? Was she cursed to commit suicide again?

The permutations were numerous. All this
neurotic thought had exhausted her. She thought about going to sleep. She
willed herself to stop thinking about all the negativity. Her mind shut down
and she drifted back to the darkness that she had awoken from.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Ravine-Gulch sat at the cantina bar with a
glass of recently distilled bourbon and a stein of beer. He had a round of
drinks previously. He stared at the carbonation bubbles breaking off from
the bottom of the stein, that pushed their way up through the golden liquid to
settle in the head of the beer. He took a swig of bourbon and chased it with
beer.

Ravine reflected upon his life. He thought about the patterns that formed throughout his time on Earth. He realized that numerous times he had been handed opportunities and through no fault of his own they evaporated in front of him, with no option except to start over from scratch. As a young man in his late teens, he apprenticed to be a tattoo artist, but not long after the Reverend Wilhelm decreed that tattoos were false idols and were banned by the Church. Ravine’s dream was effectively shattered. He had secured a job at a Regime trade hub warehouse in Santa Rosa. Ravine had to keep his body covered because of his tattoos.

Ravine thought about how he got involved with ‘Database’ dealing game. He became a very successful mid-level dealer. He had been making too much money for any citizen of his status and he had to find inventive ways to hide his New Megiddo Tithes. It was around this time that he met Greta Sanchez. It was ironic that she was a Regime community peace officer—a low-level official. Greta helped him devise ways to skirt the law and conceal his earnings. It was a profitable partnership. But like all things in his life it was not built to last. Eventually, the success went to his head, and he started to get high on his own supply. He became an addict and their dealing business suffered. Ravine incurred debt from his supplier and he had to hide out. Greta covered his tracks as best she could with her meager power, but the burden and stress overtook her.

It all resulted in ‘that incident’: the
reason why he broke down—the reason why he took his own life. He recognized
the burden that he had become. Ravine felt useless and so he had made the
decision to overdose on ‘Base’. Ravine had justified it that he would no longer be a burden to Greta. Ravine thought he had done her
a favor. Obviously after today Greta, now Gale, did not feel the same way.

Ravine thought about how he could drink
himself to death, or how he could leave the Mothball Fleet, head to the city
and overdose on ‘Base’—do it right this time. He also thought about how ‘Sam’
probably already predicted what he was thinking and would take measures against
him leaving. There were no good options it seemed. He felt useless once more.
Although he could not understand why ‘Sam’ had given him that special case of
‘Base’—to test his resolve? Ravine thought that ‘Sam’ was a genius: recruit
broken individuals, with past lives they could not return to, keep toese people
trapped with no other options but to train, then harness and funnel their rage
toward one outlet. Ravine
figured that if this was his only outlet he might as well throw himself into it
and enjoy the work. He resolved he’d start tomorrow. Today was a day to drink
himself numb.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

The armory was well kept. All the firearms
contained within were organized by type and caliber.
Hades-Perdition remembered a time in his life when it did not revolve around
firearms. In a different time he belonged to a medieval fencing club. The
activities the New Megiddo Regime did tolerate when it came to keeping Old
World traditions alive were those that related to combat and martial arts. The
Regime deduced that a highly trained population with little outlet would be
forced to join up with the armed forces or L.O.V.E.

Hades-Perdition became a medieval fencing master as a teenager in the local fencing school he attended. His mentor at the school had been a descendant of Scottish immigrants. It was said that his family had been Highlanders and that later they had served in the Blackwatch under the British Empire. The family Claymore had been passed down through the generations to him. One day his mentor had disappeared and left a note bequeithing the family Claymore to Hades. He had been carrying the sword ever since that day.

As time passed and Hades-Perdition had become destitute—he had looked for ways that he could utilize his talent. In the economy of New Megiddo, there was not much use for a medieval European fencing master’s services. He traveled around the Great Lake region looking for opportunity, but none was to be had. The note his mentor had left him suggested he join the L.O.V.E. Rangers to put his martial prowess to good use and finally he broke down and enlisted. As a year turned to a couple and he had
served with distinction. He had become a
L.O.V.E.R. This was the most prestigious and elite outfit in the organization.
Hades-Perdition was trained in marksmanship, and his interaction was firearms
had begun.

All this history had flooded back to him, in that moment, standing in the armory, staring at the weapons. Hades-Perdition selected an M82, fifty-caliber anti-material rifle from the rack. He checked the chamber and set it on the counter. He opened up his pack, threw in multiple loaded magazines, then pulled the drawstring tight. Hades-Perdition was preparing for the operation against L.O.V.E. that ‘Sam’ had mentioned during his call. Hades-Perdition was to conduct reconnaissance scouting to locate L.O.V.E’s position and to estimate the size of their force. He pondered whether to carry out this mission alone or to bring Gale-Whirlwind and determine how capable she was. He decided he would check on her in the infirmary.

Hades-Perdition picked up all the supplies
he needed and secured the armory door with a hydraulic lock mechanism. He made
his way to the infirmary. Inside he found Gale laying in the same bed. Gale
looked over her shoulder as she heard the sound of the door close. She saw that
it was Hades.

“Oh, hello. I thought you might have been
Ravine or whatever the hell you call him these days,” Gale said, as she groaned
slightly at the strain of speaking while pulling herself upright.

“How are you feeling?” Hades-Perdition
asked.

“I feel better. I feel almost normal.
Except for being a prisoner here and having my identity stolen. How long will
you keep me locked up in here?” She inquired.

“Do you think you’d be steady on your
feet?” Hades-Perdition asked.

“I think so. Why? Are you going to let me out in
the yard to run some laps?” She jabbed sarcastically while stretching.

“I’ll level with you. You aren’t exactly free, but I could use you in the field. If you’re going to be part of this outfit, you might as well find out what we do,” Hades-Perdition suggested as he place a duffel bag in front of her at the foot of the bed. He loosened the drawstring an pulled out a scoped, automatic rifle—matte black in color.

“I assume you know how to use guns,” Hades-Perdition
probed.

“I used a side arm as a community peace
officer,” Gale-Whirlwind answered.

“Good enough. That coupled with the fact
that your neural implant has uploaded weapon knowledge to your brain will make
you sufficient enough for this operation,” Hades concluded.

“I’m in. I could definitely use the change
of scenery,” she said.

“Alright. I’ll leave you to get ready.
Don’t forget this weapon and ammunition.” He gestured to the rifle.
Hades-Perdition snatched up his pack and left the room.

Gale stared at the weapon. She studied its
contours and texture. Gale felt the pent up anger and confusion coursing
through her. She considered the last forty-eight hours and how it had changed
her life, and the options she had in front of her. Gale decided that this
mission would be cathartic because she suddenly felt the urge to shoot
something.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Ravine was slumped over the bar, half passed out. It was just before noon and he was drunk like it was late at night. His head shot up from the bar and he rubbed his face, pushed his hand back through his hair, then checked the empty glass for residual liquid. None was to be had. He turned his stool to look around the cantina. Ravine got off his stool and swayed while he walked and exited the bulkhead into the adjoining metal corridor. He nearly collided into Hades-Perdition. Hades-Perdition sidestepped and Ravine fell to one knee. He looked up at Hades-Perdition and noticed he was accompanied by Gale-Whirlwind. He supported himself against the riveted metal wall and pulled himself to his feet.

“Sor—Sorry ‘bout that...Are you going on a mission?” He asked, breath wreaking of bourbon and beer.

“Yes. We’ll catch you later,”
Hades-Perdition said dismissively.

Ravine stood in the middle of the
corridor, blocking their route forward. “I could help, guys. Just lemme get my
gear. I’ll kill a motherfucker,” Ravine blurted clumsily, making a gun gesture
with his pointer finger.

“You’re drunk Ravine. Get some rest. You should sit this one out,” Hades-Perdition suggested, putting a hand on Ravine’s shoulder.

“Nah, man. I can handle it. Come on Gale—let’s do this. We can be partners again!” Ravine, shouted excitedly, stumbling toward her.