J. Gonzalez - They

Mike picked up the narrative. “Gladys fell in hard for Maggie and Tom. They became lovers, and with her drug use so high she wanted to be a part of them. Maggie and Tom were already pretty ingrained in the cult and they brought Gladys in. They… I don’t know how to say it, but… they had some kind of spell over her. Made her believe that the coming of Armageddon was near and that they were on the winning side.”

Frank nodded. “She was also most likely brainwashed into believing that their dedication and worship of Satan was, in a way, a glorification of God as well. Because if God had this whole scenario planned out beforehand as prophesized in the Bible, then they figured that serving the Prince of Darkness wouldn’t be bad… they’d be essentially doing their part to fulfill Biblical prophecy.”

“But this group took things a step further,” Mike explained just as he was interrupted by a voice announcing over the intercom that their pizza was ready.

Frank rose to get it and after he came back and they’d served themselves and begun eating, Mike continued. “I’d like to focus on another group for a minute. The End Times Church believed that Jesus, God, and Satan should be equally recognized. One does not exist without the other. In time, members began to focus on certain aspects of the religion; some were devoted followers of Jesus, others concentrated on Satan. The hub that connected them was that they believed in the literal prophecy of Armageddon as prophesized in the Book of Revelations. They also saw themselves as playing key parts in it. It was around 1966 or so that the Satanist sect broke off from the original church in an effort to wholly worship evil and bring about the coming of the Anti-Christ. The Black Cross has been credited with being this splinter group that broke away from the End Times Church. There’s no real hard evidence the Black Cross exists now. Through the research Frank and I conducted, we’ve come to learn that the Black Cross was merely a front group for an older organization.”

“The Children of the Night,” Vince said.

“Yes,” Mike said. “The Children of the Night had infiltrated the End Times Church early on. By the time they initiated the break, their goals were more solid thanks to their leader, a middle-aged wealthy business tycoon named Samuel F. Garrison. They didn’t just see themselves as overthrowing Christianity, they now saw themselves as going into battle with God, who they perceived as being not only weak, but also a blind idiot god who was indifferent to his creations. Their goal was to play a key part in the Battle of Armageddon.”

“You mean as in, actually participating?” Vince asked between slices of pizza.

“Yes,” Mike was eating slowly too, and he chased a mouthful down with a swallow of iced tea. “Their goal became clear: the total destruction of the Christian Church and the return of Satan to his rightful domain: earth.”

There was silence for a moment as Vince digested this bit of information. He ate his pizza, mulling it over. Frank didn’t say anything, concentrating more on the food in front of him. After awhile, Vince voiced a question. “Where do Frank and I come in?”

Mike traded a glance with Frank, and Vince thought he caught a faint sign of wariness there. As if an unspoken message passed between them. Do we tell him everything? No, I don’t think so . Vince was about to open his mouth to say something but decided against it.

“We don’t know where you and Frank come in,” Mike said. “That’s what we’re trying to find out now.”

“What happened to Frank’s sibling?” Vince said, already having a feeling what the answer to that would be but wanting to hear it aloud.

Mike glanced at Frank again, who didn’t return his gaze. Frank kept eating, concentrating on his food. Mike leaned close to Vince and whispered: “This is still hard for Frank to deal with, so I’m going to whisper it in your ear. Okay?”

Vince nodded, the dread blossoming in his stomach.

Mike leaned closer to Vince.

Frank didn’t look up from his plate as he ate. His features were stony.

Mike began to tell him.

Vince stopped chewing. He listened to the atrocity. The initiation. The offering ending in sacrifice.

Three-year old Frank being present as his newborn sister was ritualistically murdered on a dragon-shaped altar in a large, dark room. Looking through the eyes of three-year-old Frank Black as the cultists swarmed over the body and tore it apart in an orgy of death.

Vince felt a black wall loom before him. He closed his eyes, squeezing out the pain he felt. When he opened them Mike was back at his spot at the table, pouring himself another glass of iced tea. Frank was still eating, head down, not looking up. Vince stole a quick glance and saw now why Frank had built up such a strong layer of armor around him. His shell was thickened by what he’d seen and experienced as a toddler. Not to mention what he’d went through after he got out of his family situation.

Vince turned to the slice of pizza sitting on his plate. He picked it up and bit into it, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. He felt like the inside of his skull and innards had been carved out.

They ate in silence for a while. As he ate all he could think about were the atrocities that had been described to him. Human sacrifices, satanic rituals, all in the form of black-cloaked adults grouped around an altar in a candle-lit room, chanting softly, their voices rising reverently. The fact that such people would believe such bullshit and follow it was one thing; Vince had always held a low opinion of religion in all its forms, probably because of his own strict religious upbringing. He’d become an atheist early in life, based on his own intellect and reasoning. He found the Christian God just as unbelievable as the Muslim God Allah, the Jewish Yahweh, the Hindu God of Life, and the various sects he’d heard about through word-of-mouth, the occasional television show or the printed word. His knowledge of the occult was minimal. He knew the Christian version of what the occult was supposed to stand for, and who Satan was supposed to be and what his purpose was. As far as educating himself from a layman’s point of view on the Devil, he hadn’t done a very good job of it. Why educate yourself on a segment of Christianity if you felt that Christianity, not to mention all religion, was non-existent, all created by man to fulfill some Jungian need for spiritual belief?

There was one thing that bothered Vince, and that was the extreme nature of the story Frank Black and Mike Peterson just told him. If such an underground organization existed, wouldn’t they have been exposed by now? Surely somebody would have run to the police. Vince wondered why nobody had spilled the beans yet; somebody always talked: mafia hit men, royal family members, mistresses to the stars and high ranking politicians, members of highly organized drug cartels. Somebody always talked and was eventually rewarded richly for their story.

Vince finished his last slice of pizza, reflecting on this. Frank had already finished, wiped his hands on a napkin, and risen to his feet. “Be right back.” He headed out of the booth toward the restrooms.

When he was out of earshot, Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Hearing about what happened to his sister still affects him, even though he only remembers the ritual through his therapy sessions.”

“I can understand why,” Vince said.

“Things got worse later,” Mike said, slipping back into the narrative. “Gladys became deeply ingrained in the cult, and became especially devoted to Samuel Garrison. Frank’s told you about him already, I take it?”

“Yes,” Vince nodded. “The Head Devil.”

“Samuel Garrison comes from pure European stock,” Mike explained. “His father’s family can be traced back to medieval England, his mother’s from Spain, and some of her ancestors settled in Mexico during the Spanish Conquest of Mexico and parts of the Southwestern United States. We have reason to believe his grandmother became involved with a group of devil worshippers in the Yucatan valley as a teenager. When Sam took control and resurrected The Children of the Night in 1966, the nicknames just became attributed to him.” Mike took a sip of his iced tea. “Gladys became a sort of sex slave to Sam,” Mike continued, speaking slowly and softly. “Frank was very well taken care of during these years, I might add. Sam took care to make sure all the children were taken care of.” He eyed Vince. “I don’t know why Sam insisted the children be well taken care of, but one thing we’ve found out is that this wasn’t happening in Frank’s household.” He shot a questioning glance at Vince. “Do you remember your folks ever mistreating you?”