Deep Redemption
Page 93
He glanced to the side and held out his hand. Sarai, his consort, walked onto the stage and took his outstretched hand. I could see that Judah loved her, in his own way. And she loved him, but it was a love that was anything but great. It was a love born of cruelty and obsession. An evil soul bound to an evil soul.
Sarai nodded her head as he whispered something into her ear. She kissed him on his lips, and gave him her most encouraging smile.
He faced the crowd again. The people were all completely silent now. All waiting for the next words from their prophet. “Today we shall beat the devil at his own game. We know that the devil challenges the faithful by luring their souls in this life, by tempting them with vices and greed . . . by threatening death. But we, the truly faithful, do not fear death. How could we, when we know what our pure souls will meet—paradise. God calls on us, His chosen people, to welcome death. He calls on us to thwart the devil’s plans.”
I sat, breath held, as he shared the rest of his “revelation”. “Satan sends his men for us now. They come to wreak havoc and spread nothing but sin and pain. So we are to confront Satan with the greatest rebellion of all.” The people watched Judah with wide, trusting eyes, as he announced, “We shall place our lives into His hands. We will submit to His will. People of The Order! When the devil’s men arrive, we shall no longer be here in spirit. They shall mourn the loss of our captured souls when they see our lifeless bodies lying prone on this sacred ground. But we will be rejoicing with our Lord in Zion! We shall overcome their wickedness. People, be joyous for this day, for we shall soon be dining at our Lord’s table!”
Most of the people erupted into the throes of manic happiness, holding their hands in the air and worshiping my brother and their Lord. Others sat motionless, terrified . . . trapped by the guards.
“No!” I shouted when I realized what was about to happen. I gripped the bars harder. “The syringes . . . they’re not wine . . . they’re poison . . . fuck! He’s going to kill them . . . he’s going to kill them all!”
“No,” Ruth cried beside me, shock coating the word.
“Judah!” I screamed, panic and disgust surging through me. But the music drowned me out.
“Those who are beside a child, you have been given two syringes—one is for you, the other is for them. Like the holy caretakers that we are, that we pride ourselves to be, we will send the innocent souls of the children to God first,” Judah smiled a kind, loving smile. “He will cherish them in His warmth until we arrive soon after.”
“Oh no!” Sister Ruth cried. “The children . . . he’s going to kill the children too.”
Sickness worked its way up my throat. I screamed and I screamed as I saw Judah signal to the crowd to proceed. The women and men who were sitting beside children turned to face them. Scalding tears filled my eyes as the young children looked at the adults with such trust . . . such fucking trust that they would let them do anything.
My hands bled as I pulled on the bars, my skin breaking apart. My shoulders screamed out in protest as I tried to wrench the door off its hinges, but it wouldn’t fucking move. I heard Solomon and Samson roaring in rage beside me, screaming at the elders to stop. Stephen was white-faced with horror. Ruth cried, slumping to her knees when no one heard our calls.
But I couldn’t stop. Even though it was useless, I couldn’t fucking stop. “Judah!” I roared, but my voice was lost under the noise. “JUDAH!” I screamed again and again and again . . .
Then I saw the adults start to push the syringes into the children’s mouths, encouraging them to swallow the fluid down their throats. I froze, stock still, as the adults took their turn.
I fucking saw red. My stomach twisted with bile and vomit. Whatever was in the syringes didn’t kill the children quickly. They began to scream in agony, their tiny bodies writhing on the ground. Froth and blood poured from their mouths as they fought to breathe, scraping at their throats, their hands reaching out desperately for help . . . but nobody was there to save them.
Nobody was fucking there to ease their pain . . .
No one ever cared for the children here in this hell. They were always alone . . . even in fucking death, Judah ensured they were alone and in pain.
The adults’ dose of poison began dragging them under too. One by one they went down, thrashing on the floor in torture.
In the panic, some of the people tried to get up and run, throwing their syringes to the ground. And I watched, helpless, as the guards forced them to back to the ground and pinned them down, pouring the poison into their mouths.
Sarai nodded her head as he whispered something into her ear. She kissed him on his lips, and gave him her most encouraging smile.
He faced the crowd again. The people were all completely silent now. All waiting for the next words from their prophet. “Today we shall beat the devil at his own game. We know that the devil challenges the faithful by luring their souls in this life, by tempting them with vices and greed . . . by threatening death. But we, the truly faithful, do not fear death. How could we, when we know what our pure souls will meet—paradise. God calls on us, His chosen people, to welcome death. He calls on us to thwart the devil’s plans.”
I sat, breath held, as he shared the rest of his “revelation”. “Satan sends his men for us now. They come to wreak havoc and spread nothing but sin and pain. So we are to confront Satan with the greatest rebellion of all.” The people watched Judah with wide, trusting eyes, as he announced, “We shall place our lives into His hands. We will submit to His will. People of The Order! When the devil’s men arrive, we shall no longer be here in spirit. They shall mourn the loss of our captured souls when they see our lifeless bodies lying prone on this sacred ground. But we will be rejoicing with our Lord in Zion! We shall overcome their wickedness. People, be joyous for this day, for we shall soon be dining at our Lord’s table!”
Most of the people erupted into the throes of manic happiness, holding their hands in the air and worshiping my brother and their Lord. Others sat motionless, terrified . . . trapped by the guards.
“No!” I shouted when I realized what was about to happen. I gripped the bars harder. “The syringes . . . they’re not wine . . . they’re poison . . . fuck! He’s going to kill them . . . he’s going to kill them all!”
“No,” Ruth cried beside me, shock coating the word.
“Judah!” I screamed, panic and disgust surging through me. But the music drowned me out.
“Those who are beside a child, you have been given two syringes—one is for you, the other is for them. Like the holy caretakers that we are, that we pride ourselves to be, we will send the innocent souls of the children to God first,” Judah smiled a kind, loving smile. “He will cherish them in His warmth until we arrive soon after.”
“Oh no!” Sister Ruth cried. “The children . . . he’s going to kill the children too.”
Sickness worked its way up my throat. I screamed and I screamed as I saw Judah signal to the crowd to proceed. The women and men who were sitting beside children turned to face them. Scalding tears filled my eyes as the young children looked at the adults with such trust . . . such fucking trust that they would let them do anything.
My hands bled as I pulled on the bars, my skin breaking apart. My shoulders screamed out in protest as I tried to wrench the door off its hinges, but it wouldn’t fucking move. I heard Solomon and Samson roaring in rage beside me, screaming at the elders to stop. Stephen was white-faced with horror. Ruth cried, slumping to her knees when no one heard our calls.
But I couldn’t stop. Even though it was useless, I couldn’t fucking stop. “Judah!” I roared, but my voice was lost under the noise. “JUDAH!” I screamed again and again and again . . .
Then I saw the adults start to push the syringes into the children’s mouths, encouraging them to swallow the fluid down their throats. I froze, stock still, as the adults took their turn.
I fucking saw red. My stomach twisted with bile and vomit. Whatever was in the syringes didn’t kill the children quickly. They began to scream in agony, their tiny bodies writhing on the ground. Froth and blood poured from their mouths as they fought to breathe, scraping at their throats, their hands reaching out desperately for help . . . but nobody was there to save them.
Nobody was fucking there to ease their pain . . .
No one ever cared for the children here in this hell. They were always alone . . . even in fucking death, Judah ensured they were alone and in pain.
The adults’ dose of poison began dragging them under too. One by one they went down, thrashing on the floor in torture.
In the panic, some of the people tried to get up and run, throwing their syringes to the ground. And I watched, helpless, as the guards forced them to back to the ground and pinned them down, pouring the poison into their mouths.
