Davis Aurini - As I Walk These Broken Roads

Wentworth looked over at Raxx. This part was on him.

“Listen, Captain — here’s the thing — like Wentworth said, these guys ain’t something the two of us can take on. We’ve got to hit the keystone to take them down, and Jenkins is that keystone.” He took a deep breath and glanced down at his hands. “I’ve known groups like this before. I know how they think — it ain’t about profit, they’re not thinking like that, they’re not stealing just to get rich or hurting people for fun — instead they’re thinking like the other Mennites.

“Listen, it would make sense for them to have asked for your help ages ago, but they wouldn’t because of their religion. It’s not about making sense. That’s why you needed us. To break through the Mennites. And to break Slayer, we gotta break the Priest.”

He shook his head, “I don’t completely know what their game is — but I know I can break Jenkins. That’s how we figure out where the shit lies. That’s how we figure them out.”

“Okay…” Patricia leaned into her clenched hands. She spent a moment thinking, “Okay, but what good is that? If Jenkins is betraying the rest of the Mennites for Slayer’s sake, that’s all well and good — but where does it get us?”

“If you could get the rest of the Elders here to see it…” started Wentworth.

“That would take some time… but it might be possible. If they saw what Jenkins—”

“No.” Raxx shook his head, “I need to do it now, while he’s still in shock. If we give him too long, he’ll just figure… well, he’ll figure that this is part of the prophecy, too, and there’ll be nothing for us to say.”

“What prophecy?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know — but I know there is one. I know the patterns on how they think. It’s just a twisted version of the Mennites’ own religion.”

Patricia leaned back in her chair, rubbing her chin. Raxx looked thoughtful. Wentworth shifted his weight over to one leg, relaxing his posture. He’d never worried about political situations before, and Raxx and Patricia’s lack of solutions was annoying him. With even a half-section of the old Black-Ops unit backing him, Slayer wouldn’t have been an issue, and the politics could have been ignored. Hell, even with a half-platoon of regular troops, and radios…

“O’Neil — where’d you get that intercom?”

“What?”

“The box there, you were speaking to your Clerk on it a few minutes ago.”

The annoyed confusion accentuated her crows-feet. “I… I guess it’s always been here.”

“This was an RCMP detachment, prewar, wasn’t it?”

“Yes… I think it was.”

“Do you have any more of this old-tech? The microchip stuff. You didn’t get rid of it, did you?”

“My predecessor insisted on keeping it. There’s an old storeroom, in the back, where we’ve got it all. But what does it matter? It’s all for computers.”

Wentworth paused. For a moment he looked defensive. Then he slid the Datapad out of its pouch, and placed it on her desk. Its cursor blinked out the seconds.

“Is that…”

“O’Neil, you said it yourself: you’re in a situation, and you’ve got to trust me on this. Show me that equipment — we might have a solution on our hands.”

Jenkins stared at his clasped hands. They were still trembling. Lord, forgive me this lack of fait…, but still they trembled. The barrel of the weapon had been so thin, and the shaded eyewear a mark of cowardice — but for an instant three black eyes had seen him naked, and bored into his soul. The kick and the honest hatred in the eyes of the other had almost been a blessing.

His breath shuddered. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Lord, by thy knowledge, strength; and by strength — the scent of the bandanna over his eyes — by strength, wisdom; and by wisdom — the terror of the driving machine — “Lord, I am your steward! I raise a great bestiary in your name!” His elbows collapsed, and his face fell to the cold steel table.

He imagined the female law enforcer sitting across from him.

“Mr. Jenkins, I’d like to apologize for your mistreatment today. I assure you that these men do not represent the citizenry of Hope, and their harassing behaviour is a stain upon us all. They are foreigners who acted on their own. I wish to emphasize that they do not represent the policy of Hope or its government, and again I apologize profusely for the mistreatment you suffered.”

“Young lady, it grieves me that Hope associate with such men. Your apology is quite proper, but it will not be sufficient. You must understand that it is only through goodwill, and our stewardship of the land that your own town survives. We tolerate your worldly ways, for it is said that each must find their way, but that is all: we tolerate, we do not condone.”

That is what he would say — what any other Elder would say, but for them it would not affect the communities… his own imprisonment was more dire.

“Lord… I trust the justice in your ways. I pray thee; show your servant how these events endure prophecy.”

A sudden jerk — the tremors were subsiding, but not yet gone.

The door opened.

He looked up; ready to recite the prepared words, but it wasn’t the law enforcer who faced him. It was the stranger with anger in his eyes, slipping in with a surreptitious glance behind him.

“You.” The stranger’s voice sent a shiver through his spine. For a moment he was prone again, the metal-riveted face staring down at him. He felt for the Lord. He found him. The moment passed.

The eyes still simmered, but now the Lord’s fire was growing within him.

“I’m not finished with you, or your sins!” said the stranger.

The fire surfaced — impudence! — his fear was forgotten. Instead he remembered the words they’d spoken in the Church. Insight, then; he smiled as the spirit filled him. He had nothing to fear from one such as this.

“Ah, my son — and yes, I call you this now, for you are one of the children — you are one lost from the fold, are you not? You are a failed Sodomite?

The man didn’t respond, he just kept glaring at Jenkins. It was true, then. It could be seen in his eyes.

“You are one who has forgotten his path — I see that you have forgotten it in many ways — for is it not said Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart? Child, you disobey both the Earthly and the Heavenly masters. You, and the other — your hatred moves you towards the wrong enemies!”

Now it was Jenkins turn to lean forward.

“Without the Lord… you have become nothing! You feel it within your breast, do you not? The loss that cannot be forgiven. Your community, your family, your truth … the emptiness where once the Spirit did reside? ”

“I know what you did!” said Raxx, forcefully, “They call them altar boys where I come from. I don’t know what word you Mennites use, but it’s all the same in the end. How old was Slayer when you put him onto the path he walks now? How many have suffered because of it? How many others have you sent into perversion?”

“Hah!” Jenkins leaned back again, “Betrayer, without the Lord you have become nothing. All you have are words, words and empty actions. You cannot recognize what is holy and what is profane.

“For it is a truth that the Lord grants his servants dominion over the land, and therein all the beasts that graze, birds that fly, and fish that swim. And through this dominion which his true stewards are granted comes power. Your mistake, failed Sodomite, was two-fold. First, you mistook these people of Hope with their tech — tech devoid of the Spirit — to be the truth; you forgot that power comes from the land and the land alone.” He took on a fierce expression, “ I am the source of power here. I am a Steward of This Land! This situation is such that I have controlled, and the Lord has created! No strength without the Spirit can enact change! You know that no earthly host can challenge the Lord’s Stewards!”