Fires Rising (25 page)

The vagrant grabbed Pilazzo hard against the collar and shook him, the awl sending bullets of pain into the priest's neck and head. "I said what's…your…name?" He punctuated each word by slamming the priest back against the wall.

"Jyro!" Timothy yelled. "Don't! He's a
priest
, for Christ sakes!"

The vagrant pulled Pilazzo forward until their noses were almost touching. "Name," he said in a low, gravely whisper.

"Father Anthony Pilazzo. Please…please don't hurt me." For a quick moment he wondered crazily how he could end up surviving a throng of possessed construction workers and an otherworldly beast, only to be taken down by some raving bum with hideous breath.

"Have you sinned in your lifetime, Father?"

"Huh? What? What's this about?" He didn't think he'd get any sort of logical answer out of the bum Timothy had called Jyro, but it was all he could drum up to save his hide.

"Answer me!"
Jyro spat, pushing the priest against the wall again.

Timothy shouted, "Jyro! Stop!"

"No," Pilazzo sobbed. "I have not sinned. I've only forgiven the sins of others."
And allowed my mother—the bride of Christ!—to die alone because of my faith to God."

The vagrant examined Pilazzo suspiciously. He leaned close to the priest so that his beard brushed up against Pilazzo's cheek, then pointed toward two corpses on the floor beneath a bloodstained wall at the opposite end of the room. "You see those men? You see what remains of them? That's what'll happen to you—to us—if there's any sin in your priestly blood. So, tell me again father,
have you sinned?
"

Pilazzo shook his head vigorously, staring at the dead men.

Jyro grinned, grime-filled lines gouging his face like cracked asphalt. The foul stench of him turned forth in a near-visible wave.

An elderly vagrant covered in tattoos asked, "Does he have the rosary?"

Jyro approached Pilazzo, a fresh gleam of alarm in his eyes. "If he does, then for sure we have our man." With no warning, the vagrant started sifting through the priest's clothing.

Pilazzo didn't think twice—he had to protect the rosary.
God is telling me to.
He shoved Jyro back. The bum backpedaled, arms pinwheeling. The awl dropped to the littered carpet with a near-silent thump.

"I am the sinless one!"
Pilazzo shouted, looking back and forth amongst the small group of men standing before him.

Jyro caught his balance and turned his eyes up toward the priest, now glimmering with shock and perhaps a bit of fear.

Pilazzo swallowed a hard, dry lump of fear in his throat. It burned all the way down to his stomach. "I am the sinless one," he repeated quietly, his mind adding,
and the son of the bride of Christ.

"Leave him alone, Jyro. We have our man.
 
Now it's time to let him do his job. He isn't going anywhere."

Jyro shot Timothy a hard glance. Pilazzo slumped and blew out a long, nervous mouthful of air. Timothy grabbed the priest by the sleeve and led him away to the reception area.

"Water…please…" Pilazzo said as he collapsed into a chair, bewildered. His headache returned, sharp and pounding. He felt weak, not well at all.

Timothy looked at him curiously. "We don't have any."

"Look in the closet." He motioned with his chin toward the wall on the other side of the desk.

Timothy stepped to it and opened the door. Sitting on a shelf inside, like an oasis in the desert, were three cases of dust coated water bottles. They were huddled alongside a few bundles of paper towels and a small box of plastic cutlery. The boy tore open the plastic coating on a case of water and handed a bottle to the trembling priest. The vagrants quickly followed suit, the urgency of the moment taking a back seat as they gulped the warm water.

Wiping his lips, Timothy said, "Jyro and I have something to show you."

"Jyro," Pilazzo repeated, eyebrows bound with concern. He gazed up at the aggressive drifter.

"That's me, father…" Jyro marched over to the priest, eyeing him guardedly. "I used to be an altar boy, you know," he exclaimed, demeanor morphing from defensive to respectful.

Pilazzo nodded, trembling all over. In his pocket, he could feel the rosary moving slightly.

Jyro pointed to the eldest of the homeless men, whose clothing was as threadbare as he was stinking. "And so was Dallas." He then pointed to the two dead men tucked against the wall. "Weston over there was a minister for over ten years. Didn't do him much good." He leaned down close to Pilazzo, offering up another serving of hot, stinking breath. "So tell me father, sinless one, what are we to do next?"

Your church awaits you…

Pilazzo shrugged his shoulders. He let his empty water bottle fall to the floor. He could feel a welling of tears in his eyes. He looked up at the vagrant called Jyro and at once developed a strange empathy for him, as if they'd known each other in some past life, or would become very close in the life that would follow. He gazed about the room and asked, "Who are you people, and what in God's name is happening here?"

Timothy quickly introduced all the men to Pilazzo (each man went by a single name that was more befitting to some imaginative nom de plume than a drifter), then filled him in on the events that occurred inside the rectory, starting with his own arrival. He briefly recalled his clash with the beast in the bathroom, the incidents with Larry, the crucified man, and the fires rising from the doors. He then told Jyro and the others of the priest's confrontation with the beast in the church—Pilazzo added no further details other than saying it was 'horrible', mentioning nothing of what he saw out in the streets, the subway, or in the Church of Holy Innocents. He didn't have the will in him to relive it all.

Wrath stepped forward, bald head glistening with sweat beneath the dim splay of the emergency beacon overhead. His shirt was torn, and his pants were burned away to the knees. He spoke to Pilazzo with authority, voice deep and focused. "It is assumed that with every instance of evil, goodness is with us struggling to keep it from fully exposing itself."

Yes, this is true…
Pilazzo thought.

"We can only guess that it is what has kept us alive so far," Wrath went on. "But time is passing and the beast is growing more powerful. I can feel it.
We
can feel it. This goodness that guides us…it cannot continue to provide us with its strength." He spread his hands in a pleading manner and added, "We must find the chalice. It is the only way."

"Or?"

"Or we will witness first hand the end of days."

The end of days…

Pilazzo gazed around his former home. It had seen quite a battle already. But it still stood strong, providing a shelter of protection from the horrific developments in the outside world. But how long would this protection last? The men claimed to have been here for two weeks, sleeping alongside the clamor of the construction crews as they'd worked to tear down its walls. Battling the beast in its many forms. Pilazzo felt a wave of lethargy wash over him, compounding his weakness. He felt an urge to simply stay put and allow the events to unfold unhindered with a hope they would leave everything as it had been.

Monsignor Sanchez's voice broke through his thoughts like a hot prod through warm flesh:
We are being summoned. Follow the message that God delivers to you. Heed His word and do your part to bring down the evil that promises man the end of days…
 

Pilazzo could feel the rosary writhing in his pocket, a constant reminder that he had work to do. He said, "Tell me more about this chalice you speak of…"

"J
yro! Jyro!" From the hallway leading to the recreation room, the bum with the beard and dreadlocks Timothy had introduced as Wilson shambled into the room. He was holding an old transistor radio with an analog dial that controlled a small red bar beneath a worn plastic window. "I found it in one of the lockers. It still works…" Holding the radio by its handle, he finagled the antenna until the signal came in clearly. All the men—Pilazzo counted seven, not including Timothy—crowded around Wilson and listened to the fairly panicked voice of a male newscaster relaying a series of events that were allegedly occurring outside the walls of St. Peter's Church.

Having witnessed the very beginnings of it all, Pilazzo listened with fear and awe to the sobering report:

"…right now there are multiple incidences of violence taking to the streets of the city. We have reports, and I know this all sounds difficult to believe…but it is reported that an entire construction crew working on an Upper East Side building project has seized a homeless shelter on Eighth Avenue, two blocks from their jobsite.

"That just a few blocks from here," Pilazzo said. It was the same shelter the priests used to call for aid in escorting the homeless from St Peter's on cold winter days.

Jyro held a hand up, and the men listened in silence as the announcer droned on…

…witness testimonies are vague, but from what we can gather so far is that at least thirty men entered the shelter armed with power drills and nailguns. The information we have here states that…that soon after the workers went inside the shelter, screams erupted and… this is as disturbing to report as it is to believe, but…they, the construction workers, are purported to have, for no apparent reason, murdered a number of the people inside the shelter. Police are at the scene now, and although not much else is clear, we do know that gunshots have been fired. A news crew has also just arrived, and they've informed us that a man is on the roof of the shelter right now hurling body parts out onto the street. My god, this is truly shocking…and it is with much regret that I must inform you that this is not the only occurrence of intense violence being reported in the city. It appears that…and I know this makes no sense, but according to the reports coming in, there are random acts of extreme violence being committed all over the city by what appears to be city construction crews. I…uh…please excuse me, but something else has just come in…it says here…it says here that the parish members of three city churches of St Michael's church on 59
^th
Street are reporting multiple assassinations taking place inside the churches, during this morning's mass. The transgressors—oh my goodness—numbering in the dozens, have also set the church on fire. Numerous witnesses are claiming that those committing the crimes are males, and that they are armed with boxcutters, screwdrivers, knives, and other hand-held tools. It also says here that others are purported to be committing murders with gas-powered tools. Folks…this is all very sudden, and extremely disconcerting. Police have requested that if you are inside, stay inside. Do not leave your home or your workplace, as there is panic in the streets at this time…

There was a pause of silence where they could hear the reporter shuffling papers. The men continued looking at the radio, as if it would offer them answers to their dilemma. All it gave them was more hell:

There are now reports of looting going on near another midtown site where six men working on a water-main break near the United Homeless Organization's main offices have…have set the building on fire. Witnesses report that the men, armed with blowtorches, entered the building and began firing them at the people inside. Numerous deaths are being reported. Witnesses say that there are bodies littering the streets…

"Enough!" Pilazzo reached out and abruptly off turned the radio. Tears filled his eyes. "We do not need any more proof! I have witnessed the beginnings of all this before arriving here."
And saw the end result in my dream
. "We must find a way to put an end to this chaos now. There must be a way before it is too late!"

Marcus shouted, "Jeezus Christ! How the hell are we supposed to do that?" He folded his arms across his chest and picked at his lower lip with one finger.

"The Chalice!" Jyro yelled. "We find the Chalice!"

Seymour said, "Yeah, and where should we look next? Huh? Where?"

Jyro shrugged his shoulders irresolutely. "There's a way into the church now…"

"I don't think it's there," Timothy replied.

Rollo pointed his gaze to the ceiling and yelled, "We will beseech the good Lord for his guidance! He will tell us where to look."

Wrath said, "No…" He walked over to Pilazzo, fixed the priest's gaze, and said, "The sinless one will tell us."

All the men, and Timothy, turned and looked at Pilazzo.

Pilazzo's mind whirled. He still didn't know what to make of all the horrific events, or this talk of a chalice. And now he was being considered a savoir, the one to go to for answers.
I need answers myself!
He threw a panicky glance at the homeless men occupying the space that not two months ago had been a protected haven for priests and deacons, but was now a retreat for God's supposed army.
Are we at war? Are we the army of tattered men I saw in my vision?

"Timothy…Wrath…" Jyro said. "I think we should bring the priest to the hole."

A sudden panic ripped through Pilazzo at the mention of being taken to a 'hole'. He moved to separate himself from the group with images of being tossed into some pit ablaze with fire and brimstone. He made it to the foot of the steps where Marcus and Wilson grabbed him forcefully and kept him at bay.