The Apostates (18 page)

“Wait, man. I’m not sure I like what
you’re saying. We’re talking about my father; my family. I mean are you calling
them crazy? Because that’s what this implies.” Keir was getting angry.

“No, Keir, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m
sure they are competent individuals. They’d have to be to have accomplished so
much. But, what if their religious beliefs are wrong? What if there is no
afterlife the way they believe? You’d be sacrificing everything. The country,
your right to rule, everything gone.” Graham felt he was on the verge of a
breakthrough.

“Son of a bitch. Graham, you do make a
good point. I’d be giving all that up. But still, what would I do? The entire
country is expecting the world to end at the B.A.G. We’d have riots if it
didn’t happen.” Keir was in way above his head, and Graham felt this was the
point that he wanted Keir in, He had taken the bait, now all he needed to was
lead him to shore.

“Keir, you’d have to assert you’re
dominance. You need to move decisively and use the leverage of the armed forces
to take the necessary actions,” Graham suggested.

“God damn, Graham. We’re talking treason
and a coup, against my father and sister. Most likely we’d have to move against
L.O.V.E and the Church! That’s a tall order. My family, dammit.” Keir was
acting distraught.

‘Yeah, that’s the price of power, Keir. It
all depends on how bad you want it. But, know I stand with you. Just tell me
what you need. I mean think about it, we could save all the people, and they
would be grateful subjects to their savior, Keir Schrubb!” Graham was really
enjoying his performance now.

“I gotta hand it to you. You’re one
convincing fellow. It’s a very tempting prospect, to take the reins of power.
Not have to take shit from my family any more. Imagine that.” Keir was looking
pensively out a window, into the distance when he said this. He took a drink of
his beer.

“That’s right, plenty of possibilities.
The sky is the limit,” Graham encouraged.

Keir stood silent for some time. He continued sipping his pint. He peered out the window, the only sounds were of some purple dinosaur on the monitor singing an obnoxious children’s song and of Keir’s kids fighting over toys and subsequently breaking them. Graham sat at the bar, feeling suspense while swirling his beer in its stein. Graham hoped that he had made the right call. Part of him wanted to leave the Ministry and get back to his motorcade. He felt conflicted. Keir was proving difficult to read.

“However, Graham, something is troubling
me. I mean it is appealing, this whole plot, but I think you may want it to
happen more than I do.” Keir had an accusatory tone. He walked back around the
bar and poured himself another pint.

“What? Don’t be absurd. I’m here just to
provide you with support. This is about you, not me.” Graham tried to deflect
the accusations. His leg fidgeted with agitation.

“Nope, I’m pretty sure it’s about you now,
and your ambition to undermine the Church and Regime.” Keir was dead serious.

“This is crazy. I’ll let you get back to your family. Take it easy, Keir.” Graham cut the conversation short. He hopped off the barstool and walked away, heading towards the massive double doors at the entrance. He pulled out an unlit cigarette and let it hang from his mouth. Graham thought that the jig was up and he needed to make his exit, fast. He laid his hand on the door knob but felt it turn from the other side. The giant doors swung open, slowly. As they opened wider he could see two figures standing in the darkened corridor. The two shrouded figures took a few steps forward into the light. It was President John W. Schrubb. He was accompanied by Inquisitor Rodrigo, who looked to have bicycled over to the Ministry of Defense; clad in spandex cycling gear and a helmet. The President looked like a withered corpse dressed in a slim cut suit and skinny tie.

“Graham Wynham, I was best friends with
your grandfather, and was close to your father, too. He and I accomplished
great things together over the years. It was a shame when he passed away, a
true loss. But, well, I am glad that he is not alive today. It would break his
heart to see his son display such treachery,” John W. Schrubb said
threateningly.

“There must be some mistake here. This was
purely a social call. Keir and I were just reliving old times.” Graham tried to
lie his way out. He removed the cigarette out of his mouth and took a step
back.

“For being such a sophisticated subversive
surely you must have known that L.O.V.E. monitors quarters and facilities of
prominent officials of New Megiddo to keep them safe, from people such as
yourself.” The Inquisitor relished this moment.

“Sorry, Graham, this is my family and my religion we are talking about here.” Keir washed his hands of his lifelong friend.

“It appears that all of your minds are
made up here.” Graham tried to quickly run by the President and the Inquisitor
to freedom. Inquisitor Rodrigo pulled a “U-lock” that was tucked into his
spandex shorts and delivered a blow to the back of Graham’s head. Graham
collapsed to the floor. The world around him became a haze and the sounds
echoed in his head. He remembered hearing the Inquisitor’s voice, “I have very
inventive methods of learning all we need from traitors such as yourself.”

Graham tried to process what was being
said, but the effort was too great, and he passed out into the darkness.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Keir’s quarters had been cleared and he
sent his family back to Keir’s residence. Keir was sitting on a barstool,
looking shaken. President Schrubb had gone behind the bar and poured himself a
shot of whiskey, he downed it and coughed a little. He then grabbed a stein and
filled it with a pale ale, and took a swig to chase the whiskey.

“Wow, what a sensation. Boy, I tell ya,
when I was younger I would put shots like that away like there was no tomorrow.
Of course when I do it these days it means hours of regeneration therapy,”
President Schrubb admitted looking at himself in the beer tap reflection.

Keir said nothing. He just stared down at
the bar. President Schrubb gave Keir a cold look as he took another sip from
the stein.

“I like what you have done with the place!
Full bar, jacuzzi, amazing furniture, a mountain of toys for the kids, and
treacherous plots! All with my money. You’ve got my balls, kid,” President
Schrubb threateningly said, leaning over the bar toward Keir.

“Father, I...figured that being so close to the end that—” Keir was cut off.

“That what? That you and your family could
stop living Virtuously and partake in a bunch of banned material like a family
of fucking Apostates!” President Schrubb worked himself up too much and began
to have a coughing fit.

“Father, drink some water! You shouldn’t
drink right now!” Keir was worried his elderly father would keel over at any
second.

“My treacherous son, presumes to know
what’s best for me, huh?” President Schrubb recovered from his coughing fit.

“Father, please.” Keir was fearful for his
life.

“Living it up, you paid for it by letting most of the ministry staff go. Boy, you sure do have quite the sense of timing! We are on the eve of the Rapture, and you are endangering everything by weakening the security of our state because you wanted to live it up before the end.” President Schrubb was livid, but he was trying to keep his heart rate down. He knew that if he worked himself up too much he could die.

“You know the danger we face with this group of Apostates roaming free. They are out there and are plotting to stop the Coming of the Lord. Do you have any idea what would happen to us if they succeed? The people would tear us apart if the Reverend did not deliver on his promise.” President Schrubb was facing down his potential fate.

“Father, I know what danger the Apostates
represent,” Keir reassured.

“Don’t give me that shit, boy! You were
discussing treasonous plots with Wynham! I cannot even fathom...The son of my
best friend, plotting a coup, with my son! Never in a million years would I
have thought this would come from you.” President Schrubb had moved from behind
the bar to the window overlooking a courtyard, he held one hand behind his back
and the other supported the stein of beer.

“Father, I will do whatever you need
me—” Keir was cut short again.

“You damn will, boy. Do you know what
happened out west while you were having your little party here? The resistance
base was located, and L.O.V.E. attacked without the Inquisitor’s orders. They
came close to taking the Apostates but failed in the end.” President Schrubb
was agitated.

“Father, that is terrible news,” Keir
shook as he spoke.

“Yes yes, but that’s not the worst of it.
Survivors of the encounter reported that the Apostates have converted an entire
reserve fleet to working order. They are at sea with a fleet of goddamned
battleships. God knows where there are trying to get off to. They may try to
sail through the Panama Strait. Sail up and attack the capital from the sea,”
President Schrubb hypothesized.

“Father, I’ll do whatever I can to stop—” Again President Schrubb talked over Keir.

“Of course you will, boy. What you will do
is activate the capital ship, you will personally take command of the N.M.N.
Reverend Wilhelm, super battleship, and you will sink every last one of their
vessels!” President Schrubb commanded.

“Yes! Of course father. I would never fail
you!” Keir groveled.

“Good, because you are already condemned.
The only way to clear your name is to destroy the Apostate fleet. You’re a
traitor to me until the time you destroy them.” President Schrubb did not look
at Keir when he spoke. Keir began to tear up, something psychological was
triggered in him, and he reverted to the role of a child, pleading for the
approval of his father. Keir grabbed a napkin from the bar to wipe tears away.

“Yes, father.” Keir kept it short.

“I’m glad we have an understanding. You
will be under watch by L.O.V.E. I will be in touch with further details about
your mission and the time table. Wait for further instructions.” With that
President Schrubb slammed the stein on the bar, and walked out of the room. He
joined up with his detail and then he was gone.

Keir couldn’t help it, he was a child again. He folded his arms onto the bar, tucked his head in and started balling uncontrollably. Then anger took over. He cursed his father in his head. Keir forced himself to stop crying. He was trying to harness his rage to harden his heart. He could not fail in his new mission if he did he knew his family would pay the price as well. Keir also cursed Graham Wynham, that treacherous bastard tried to enlist Keir into his plot. Keir also cursed himself for nearly joining the plot. He had let his pride get the better of his judgment, and he would not let it happen again. Keir was going to turn himself into an unfeeling weapon; a pure force of will that would not rest until all Apostates lay lifeless. Keir rushed over near to the sofa, and picked up a pair of weights and started doing arm curls, manically, far faster than usually recommended.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Everything was pitch dark. The pounding in
his head was unbearable. Graham had a vague idea what had happened but he had
no idea about his current whereabouts, and whether his entire body was intact.
Graham knew that he had been restrained in some fashion because he couldn’t
move his limbs freely. He couldn’t detect whether he was blindfolded or in a
dark room. Graham’s retinal display still worked, he guessed that L.O.V.E.
hadn’t found out that his neural implant had been altered to encrypt data and
send it onto a masked sub-network. He formulated a message and sent it to the
Apostate’s anonymous address. It was the only chance he would get. Graham
assumed that they would canvass the data banks of his neural implant, and when
they did they would come upon an encrypted partition. It would only be a matter
of time before they would discover all of his secrets, but they would need to
remove it from his head.

More worrisome was that they would have the identity of the Apostates and the Regime would be privy to his plans. They would have what they needed to thwart everything. Graham weighed his options, he was a dead man no matter how it played out. Perhaps he could provoke one of his captors to kill him once they started his interrogation. Chances are his interrogators would be experienced professionals, not reactionary enough for him to provoke them. They interrogators would very soon hijack his neural implant. If they didn’t administer physical torture it would most likely be torture by manipulating his implant, he surmised. Graham was trying to prepare himself mentally for whatever they could throw at him. He was determined not to break, he had already sacrificed everything in defiance of the Regime, what more could they do to him? He would keep his iron discipline to the last.

Graham heard the opening of a rusty-hinged door, and footsteps slowly approaching his position. He guessed that he had heard a metal stool being dragged across the room on hard concrete, then it is placed on its four legs. The sound of a cigarette being lit was heard, and a shifting of weight on the stool.

“Well, Mr. Wynham, you really did it this
time. You had it all. A cushy lifestyle, the head of Wynham Industries. You
were on track to claiming your place in the Lord’s Kingdom. But, you have
forfeited that privilege,” the voice said.

Graham thought that it was probably the
Inquisitor, gloating about his catch. Graham sat silent, he would try to ignore
the Inquisitor as long as possible.

“Your family has had a close relationship with
the Schrubbs for nearly two hundred years. Why would you throw that away?”
Inquisitor Rodrigo prodded.

“You have dishonored your family name. You
have ruined your business. The state will assume Wynham Industries operations
and your assets will be claimed to help fund preparations for the Second
Coming.” Inquisitor Rodrigo attempted to elicit a reaction from Graham.