Reginald Cook - The Hammer of God

Outside, the midnight sky draped the gathering with a clear, star-studded cloak of night. A windless, easy calm enveloped them, as if Lucifer himself held back any intrusion or interruption. The dead stillness caused Cardinal Polletto’s voice to boom through the night like thunder, and as they entered the stadium and slowly marched toward the stage, everyone sitting stood, holding a single lit candle in their hands.

Cardinal Polletto stopped in front of a long table, covered with a dark red tablecloth, as the others took their positions. Father Tolbert to his right, the coffins on the wooden deck directly behind him, where twenty-five children, bound and gagged, lay shivering and shaking on the deck, eyes filled with fear. Cardinal Polletto motioned for everybody to take their seats and finished the chant. Everything fell silent.

“Tonight is a night of triumph,” he told the crowd, loud and confident. “A night we will all bear witness to history, a night when the world will be born anew.”

In the front row of the stadium, Cardinal Polletto spotted the Black Pope, his pasty face and black smile camouflaged behind his black hood.

Sitting next to him, dressed as all the others, sat Alison Napier, nervous and fidgeting, unaware that tonight would be her last night on earth.

The rest of the followers in the stands were some of the most powerful men and women in the world. Cabinet members, generals, heads of state, the influential, rich and powerful from every walk of life, were all ready to bow down and dedicate their lives to the boy who would rule every inch of the earth.

“Tonight, the old will give way to something new. A new way the world will grasp as its lifeline, and we, the ones chosen to serve and lead, will tonight bear witness to this rebirth,” stated Cardinal Polletto.

He began to chant again, this time paying homage to Lucifer, hands held high in the air, eyes to the heavens. The members in the stands blew out their candles and launched into the same chant, hands high, heads to the sky, some smiling, others dead serious, their voices filling the night like a harmonious choir.

“Curse you! Curse every last one of you!” the cardinal heard Father Tolbert scream. He looked over and saw the priest, head up, spewing and spitting, cursing and crying. “Hell is waiting for all of you! I swear it!” Cardinal Polletto continued to chant. Father Ortega approached Father Tolbert, a long silver knife in his hand. Two priests hurried over and lifted Father Tolbert’s feet high in the air. Father Ortega braced to cut his throat and drain the blood into a silver trough on the deck, just below the struggling priest.

Father Tolbert caught a glimpse of the knife. “No, get away from me!” he screamed.

As Father Ortega moved closer, Father Tolbert screamed louder. The crowd raised their voices higher, drowning him out.

Cardinal Polletto looked behind him. Sister Bravo opened the three caskets. Hooded men lifted each boy out and gently stood them up on the deck. The cardinal locked his eyes on Samuel, who looked over at Eduardo and Felipe, their eyes wide, their bodies trembling. But one look from Samuel and the boys seemed to steady. Samuel scanned the area, detached, unmoved by the theatrics.

“No, Lord, help me!” Father Tolbert bellowed.

Father Ortega now stood directly over the priest, waiting for the final signal from Cardinal Polletto. The cardinal raised his hands. Everyone fell silent. On the table in front of him was a small silver plate filled with rich black dirt. He poured water over it and walked over to the writhing, spewing Father Tolbert. Cardinal Polletto mixed the mud with his fingers, and smeared it all over Father Tolbert’s face, whose smoldering anger was now replaced with uncontrollable crying.

“From the earth you came, the Father of our savior. To earth you shall return. Your name will forever be written in our hearts and minds.

Your blood, your seed, gave birth to the savior of this world, and in him you shall live forever.”

Cardinal Polletto stepped back and nodded to Father Ortega. The burly priest placed the knife to Father Tolbert’s neck.

“Urrrrh!” Father Tolbert struggled and writhed.

One of his hands pulled loose from the rope. He grabbed the hand in which Father Ortega held the knife and wrestled violently. Father Tolbert’s other hand tore free, his eyes on fire, his face a raging storm.

He grabbed Father Ortega by his bulky black robe and snatched him to the ground.

Two men rushed over to help a distressed Father Ortega, but before they could reach him, Father Tolbert had the knife in his hand, and Father Ortega lay prostrate on his back.

The men grabbed at Father Tolbert, but were met with hard kicks and stabs, sending both to the ground. Father Tolbert, his eyes fixed on Cardinal Polletto, reached down and stabbed Father Ortega in the chest several times, to the horror of the panic stricken crowd.

“Father Sin, get him!” cried Cardinal Polletto.

Father Sin, already headed in that direction, pulled his own knife from under his robe. Father Tolbert’s eyes never left the cardinal. He smiled, saliva foaming around his mouth, nose flaring.

“Stop him!” Cardinal Polletto screamed.

Father Tolbert rushed forward, knife above his head. Cardinal Polletto braced himself, forearms in front of his face. “Arrrrh!” he cried, as the blade found his flesh.

S amuel stared down at the small black coffin in front of him, afraid, but not showing it. Sister Bravo and Father Sin tied his and his brothers’ hands in front of them, something he had anticipated, but still dreaded. It would make their escape more difficult.

“Ouch,” Samuel cried, wincing as Sister Bravo knotted the rope.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll loosen the rope a bit.”

“Thank you,” answered Samuel, smiling inside.

Sister Bravo instructed Father Sin to do the same with Eduardo and Felipe. Samuel eyed his brothers. They’re fools. We’re going to beat them.

He watched Eduardo and Felipe fight back smiles, and looked away so he wouldn’t laugh. Sister Bravo tore a strip of wide gray tape from a roll, placed it gently over Samuel’s mouth, tossed the roll to Father Sin, who taped the mouths of his brothers. Samuel squirmed, twisted, and mustered the saddest eyes he could.

“There’s nothing I can do about the tape,” said Sister Bravo, smiling.

“But relax, it won’t be there long.” Samuel looked away. Sister Bravo knelt. “Samuel, I hope we can be friends. I want to be a mother to you and your brothers, but you’ll have to let me in. I’ve waited a long time for this day. I hope we can put the past behind us.” You’re not my mother, and you’ll never be! Samuel forced a smile through the tape and nodded. Sister Bravo’s eyes watered, and she stood.

Samuel turned his head toward the front of the room, hatred throbbing in his head. His eyes fell on Cardinal Polletto, who turned and looked back at him. The longer their eyes stayed locked on each other, the hotter Samuel’s anger burned. He didn’t care who the cardinal said he was, or what his place in history would be, he’d kill them all the first chance he got. If not that day, then another, but he was going to make them pay for tearing his life apart.

In front of the coffins lay Father Tolbert, twisting back and forth like he was in pain. Bastard! You deserve to suffer. I hope I get to see you die. Samuel never told anyone all of the horrible things Father Tolbert had done to him. He told his friends, Paul and Carla, some things, like how Father Tolbert had fondled him, but kept the worst to himself.

Cardinal Polletto began to chant. Samuel recognized it as Latin, but had no idea what the cardinal was saying. All of the adults in the room pulled the hoods of their black robes over their heads. Two men approached Samuel, lifted him up and placed him in the coffin. Samuel caught one last glimpse of his brothers, who looked horrified. Stay strong. Don’t break. We can do this.