Resurrection

Chapter 39 : The Salvation of Abraham

As their leader and prophet of the Lord, I would issue many sermons, including my favourite one from Hosea 1, which I happened to decree on a note of self-imposed piety: "When the Lord began to speak through Hosea, the Lord said to him, "Go, marry a promiscuous woman and have children with her, for like an adulterous wife this land is guilty of unfaithfulness to the Lord." So he married Gomer daughter of Diblaim, and she conceived and bore him a son" I recited all of this in my most fashionable expression as I closed the book in a dramatic fashion.

I continued to lecture them:

"Now the lesson here was that the Lord knew that the Israelites may have been flawed, but they needed to go on and reproduce, and spread the seed of the chosen people further across their part of the globe. Likewise here, we need to build our numbers and glorify our army of Christian soldiers. These Israelites would explode in population and would go from being nobodies to a people of importance and with God being somebody significant to them. We need to be significant again in the eyes of our god. And words only begin to take meaning when they are met with action."

They were hanging on my every word as I continued.

"Like Gomer, I have been a sinner and led a promiscuous life. I don't pledge to be pure but I encourage you all to go out and continue to bear children. For some of you worried about sin, know that I can bear the brunt of that sin for you. I also know like any good bachelor here I need to take on a wife of my own. I'm sure the congregation can help me in this."

As I said this, Beverley looked at me in earnest, though I looked beyond her to see a number of depraved ones looking toward the new saviour. I sighed – what a nice predicament to be in.

"Now this might not be relegated to merely one. Similar parishes to this one have been rejuvenated by a prophet of the lord and having several wives to sustain that bloodline."

I was expecting an uprising by some of the men in the audience but alas, they blindly nodded in unison. At this point I probably owed a lot of my inspiration to Koresh and Rasputin. Instead of rebellion I could feel a wandering gaze of female parishioners holding its glance at groin level or perhaps this was my inflated sense of ego talking. Either way I would continue to feed this magnificent id and allowed myself to smile. I cleared my throat and changed tone- looking seriously out at the rabble.

"We also need to rise up against our growing enemy. They would try to blind us in one hand with the Koran and yet try to rob us of our power by preying on the mercies of our government and due process. In their own countries, they are savage and bring the same savagery to this once peaceful nation." I continued to preach, each one of them devouring my every word in its sustenance.

Peaceful? You call colonisation peaceful?

Adam the ignoramus gave another pitiful argument within our rented space. Luckily for me this lot wasn't as cynical or discerning. Still as they ate up my words with as much enthusiasm as a toddler on the proverbial teet, I knew I needed to get back out into the real world. I was starting to become cursed with the cabin fever of this church and needed a break to do some more people watching and reconnaissance.

****

The smell of a faintly roasted caramel latte greeted me as I engaged in my favourite pastime at an out of town café. The 1950s leather booths and mini jukeboxes at each Formica countertop gave it a kitschy sense of nostalgia as a backdrop for me to send out my extrasensory tentacles of information extrapolation. Better than the internet, my heightened senses eavesdropped on a number of conversations. As I was more reacquainted with Adam's body and had staked a high bodycount, feeding the soul train and boosting the power of my existential virus, I was more powerful and my psyche more finely tuned with this process.

A couple next to me were lost in thought as they attempted to start again following a miscarriage, the lonely man in the booth was figuring out how to come out to his parents. Another married couple were actually just surprisingly happy. Each of these human channels peaked with dramatic sensibility. As I probed further the murmurings of mass psychology hung in the air as I started to sense a growing fear among many of them. Whispers of the new Imam in their rival miniature city were a topic of conversation with extremist views bordering on mass paranoia. Like the percolating coffee punctuated by the distant espresso machine, war was brewing.

After an hour of gleaning information, my thoughts were interrupted as a nearby television that would previously broadcast Catholic mass, was now firmly fixated on a far right republican self-abuse channel that was even more dramatic than Fox news on a rival network. Like Fox, they were building on terror levels and this particular red alert was aimed at a rise in Islamic insurgency across the nation. A café in Houston was the target of a terrorist attack and in the oncoming standoff, a man known to a local Islamic extremist group as a dedicated follower killed two hostages before turning the shotgun on himself in an act of martyrdom. The botox induced chiselled Jaw male newsreader tried to evoke the shock and horror of this attack and could only spread more fear before cutting to the local Imam who did very little to distance himself from the atrocities of these actions, he could not even bring himself to apologise but rather detract from the horrors of religious terrorism. Well this plan of action suited me just fine. I could use this to fuel the fire in the growing army of the guardians of Christ. Christian soldiers could march to war in tandem jackboots. We were the growing critical mass of a mostly Caucasian paranoia.

Some of the older gents gave up comparing the best cobbler in the territory to comment on this most recent terror attack. Sadly I even felt justified in this purpose. My probe went external, allowing me to hang over this conversation like a thick fog.

"Why it's a goddamn outrage, is what it is!" one of the older gents piped up.

"They come to this country and live by our rules and our citizenry and then go ahead and do this. Why it just sickens me." His friend replied.

"That whole area should just be walled up, and why then Uncle Sam should just send a small nuke there way. That oughta fuck em up once and for all." The first man continued to comment.

No one at this point was speaking up for the innocent Muslims that could be caught up in the crossfire. Once again, this just suited me fine. Religious conflict was the very foundation for me to build this shaky house of cards. Another piece had just slotted into place and the mastery of machinations could continue developing.

***

As a precursor to war, I started to build up my inner circle, a team of trusted individuals that would do anything and could be relied on to do so. At the top of the list was Beverley, my second-in-command, she was the Goring to my Hitler. To continue my support was John, another fellow parishioner who helped me through the recruitment process. Thanks to him, we were forcing dozens through the initiation process and building up our militia at a rapid pace. Carol with no E was my Goebbels and the second femme fatale in this operation. Her charm and faithfulness helped us with marketing and easing others to our church. We also had David who was another key to recruiting. Another golden goose that we found in this coalition of the willing was a hacker by the name of Natasha, who would put her skills to great use in the coming weeks. And finally Ned, this wasn't a keep your enemies closer tactic but rather keep your sacrificial lambs fat and content. Ned would be at the forefront of our assault team. The key I believe to success is not trying to come up with the perfect plan, for no plan can ever be truly perfect, as there are so many things that can go wrong. Plans must be simple, organic and open to flexibility. The true key here was having a dedicated team that would obligingly follow you into the abyss.

***

Any amateur can walk into a Mosque and mow down a bunch of innocent bystanders. This was not courageous nor was it in anyone's glory. Not that I was sentimental, merely being a good hunter. You don't go after the prey but other predators to prove that you are the king of the urban Jungle. I could have easily sent Ned into any number of the mosques that dotted Texas, but that would have been considered unworthy by my superior. It also brings on the sympathies of everybody, including the tree-hugging pacifists.

When Ned's precious assault team arrived in their freshly dented van and spilled out the back, they weren't running into a Mosque- an Islamic place of solitude. They were about to run into the wolf's den.