The Apostates (31 page)

A woman approached the two. She wore a
modest grayish dress, with a long-sleeved white collared shirt underneath. She
had a matching veil over her hair. The two surmised that she was a
Sister of the church.

“Buena noches. Bendición a usted. ¿Puedo
hacer por usted? (Good evening. Blessings to you. Can I help you?)” she asked
them, not failing to notice that they were armed.

“Hermana. Le ruego me disculpe. ¿Has visto
a un chico por aquí? (Sister. I beg your pardon. Have you seen a boy around
here?)” Juan Carlos had asked her with a sound of desperation in his voice. The
sister looked at him with a sympathetic eye. She put a hand on his forearm.

“Sí. Por favor, sígueme. (Yes. Please follow me,)” she said solemnly. She led the two over to a drawn curtain across a door frame. She drew the curtain back, gesturing to enter the anti-chamber. It acted as an infirmary. Javier laid in a bed next to a stain glass window. Consuela rushed over to his bed and inspected him. Javier was conscientious. He cried when he saw his sister and it was contagious. Juan Carlos came to the side of the bed. He looked at his son. His face was scraped and bruised, with a black eye. But, the wound that really made his blood boil was the bandage that adorned Javier’s right arm. It was missing below the elbow; the stump was wrapped in gauze and bandage. Juan Carlos embraced his son.

Javier had explained what had transpired.
He had left his village and came to Masaya, to seek out a ‘Database’ dealer. He
had begged the dealer to allow him to distribute a quantity, but the dealer had
refused. So, Javier stole a few applicators from the dealer’s stash, but the dealer had
noticed. The dealer said he was going to make an example of Javier: the thief.
After beating Javier severely, he went about the business of removing the
forearm with a machete. It was the hand Javier had used to steal the
‘Database’. Javier had been left for dead in the street. Fortunately,
sympathetic shopkeepers had carried Javier to the cathedral, where priests had
been physicians. They saved his life.

Consuela had sworn revenge against the
dealer and the Cartel. She pleaded with her father for the two of them to kill
the dealer with their weapons. Her father refused. Juan Carlos tried to explain
to Consuela how retaliating against the Cartel would mean a death sentence for
the entire family, possibly the whole village. He would not allow it. They
would end up arranging transport for Javier back to their village without
exacting revenge. Javier in time would learn to live with his new handicap. He
never did entertain the idea of joining the Cartel again. But as he got older
he would come to notice the impact of the Cartel presence on his village.
Javier watched as schoolmates joined up with the Cartel, becoming soldiers in
territorial disputes among the cartels. Some came back to the village in wooden
boxes.

As her family had moved on from the tragedy, Consuela did not. She kept a fiery hatred burning inside her for what the Cartel had done to her brother. So, she threw herself into Old Testament teachings and tales of revenge. She began to worship this wrathful God of the Old Book. It hadn’t been long before tales had reached the village about a new force that was active in the region. Merchants had brought tales of Crusaders, battling against the cartels. They told of knights clad in white, liberating towns and village from the strangle of sin. She was intrigued. Consuela pictured herself as a white knight, riding roughshod over the Cartel and avenging her brother. She began to practice her marksmanship daily and, drilling with rifle and bayonet. Juan Carlos gave her his Mosin-Nagant rifle with the accompanying dagger-bayonet.

It was no surprise to her parents that one fateful summer day, Consuela had declared to them that she was setting out to join the Order that everyone had heard much about. She had turned eighteen and was a crack shot with her bolt-action rifle. Consuela had spent an entire summer studying an old World War One era treatise on bayonet combat that she had scrounged from town ruins, practicing until her hands were blister-ridden. Consuela had packed her hiking kit and her weapon and was on her way. She did not regret leaving her small, stifling village behind, but she would miss her family.

According to the latest reports from the
market square, traveling merchants had said that to the east, numerous villages
and towns had been liberated from the black market cartels. The mysterious
Order had defeated the cartels and the entire Caribbean coast was now free.
This Order was pushing west and was fighting against the El Paradiso cartel: the
cartel that had taken her brother’s arm, and made her family live in fear.
Consuela struck out east, determined to make contact with this Order that she
knew very little about.

Consuela had caught a ferry across the Lago Nicaragua, a massive lake that lie between her and the other side of the country. Once she made the crossing she figured she would take the old Route Seven east, which converged with the Rio Escondido at a small settlement called Rama. And so she set out, down Route Seven on foot. She estimated it a good sixty miles to Rama. She walked during the day and camped just off the road, out of sight at night. Avoiding campfires, she ate just dried foods. Slowly but surely she had made her way down the old highway. Every once in a while she would run into a traveling merchant and would take on new supplies. Consuela was told by one merchant that she could find the Order at Rama, and so she double-timed it the last ten miles that she traveled.

Consuela had come upon an old, rusted road sign that indicated she was entering Rama. She rounded a bank of a thick growth of trees, and then she witnessed the town gate. She was taken aback when she made out three large, wooden crucifixes that had been erected to the side of the gate. Bound to the crosses were bodies, nailed up in the manner of Jesus Christ. The victims were dressed only in loin clothes, and had a large open wound to each of their chests. They seemed recently deceased. The bodies had wooden signs draped around their necks, they said: “Los pecadores recibir las Llagas de Cristo. (Sinners receive the Wounds of Christ)”. The letters were crude and looked as if they were burnt into the wood. Consuela was horrified, but also invigorated. She thought that it was about time someone had the spine to stand up to the cartels. She was eager to make the acquaintance of this Order. As she entered the town square of Rama townspeople had marked her appearance with suspicion. The inhabitants were silent and solemn but shot her looks of distrust. She wondered what troubled them. There was no town hall or central structure except for the cathedral so she traveled in that direction. She gazed at the cathedral steeple across a plaza with a broken fountain erected in the center. She crossed the plaza, coming toward the main entrance. Consuela glanced upon a crude banner that had been draped above the entrance. It was white fabric and displayed a hastily painted black, encircled pentagram. She wondered what this signified.

A woman seemed to appear from nowhere. She
was clad in a white cloak and hood. The woman stopped several feet from
Consuela and lowered her hood. She was a pale woman with a pointed nose, with
dark hair and eyes. Consuela noticed that her physical appearance resembled the
portraits of the Virgin Mary.

“Saludos niño. Veo que usted está armado. ¿Es usted parte de un cartel? (Greetings child. I see that you are armed. Are you part of a cartel?)” the woman had asked while keeping a hand near the hilt of the sword affixed at her waist.

Consuela carefully considered her answer.
She could see that this woman was at the ready and would try to strike her down
if she answered wrongly, “No, nunca. Buscando justicia contra el cártel. (No,
never. Seeking justice against the cartel,)” she replied.

“Ah, sí. Y tú eres un hijo de Dios? (Ah, yes. And you are a child of God?)” the woman tilted her head as she asked, circling Consuela.

Consuela knew that this was the most important question that the woman had asked so far. She felt like the woman was judging her suitability for life based upon Consuela’s answer.

“En el último año sólo he estudiado el
Antiguo Testamento y deseada justicia del Señor. Quiero ser un instrumento de
justicia. (In the last year I have only studied the Old Testament and desired
the justice of the Lord. I want to be an instrument of justice,)” she said,
waiting to find out how the woman would react.

“Está bien, niña. Yo creo que podemos
tener un uso para ti. (Okay, girl. I think we may have a use for you,)” the
woman said, casually. She began to walk away.

“Espere. Quién es usted? (Hold On. Who are
you?)” Consuela asked hastily, trying to get the woman’s attention.

“Soy el Friar Francis de la Orden del
Pentagrama. Yo soy la herida del pie izquierdo de Cristo. (I am Friar Francis
of the Order of the Pentagram. I am the Wound of the Left Foot of Christ,)”
Friar Francis exclaimed, she unsheathed her sword and pointed the tip at the
pentagram banner above the cathedral door.

Consuela didn’t know what to make of this statement. The Left Foot of Christ? It sounded official. They must possess a certain degree of authority to make that proclamation, “Hola Pie Izquierdo. Mi nombre es Consuela. (Hello Left Foot. My name is Consuela,)” she introduced herself and put out a hand for a shake.

“¡Oh, no. Por favor, llámeme Friar Francis! (Oh, no. Please call me Friar Francis,)” Friar Francis corrected her. She left the hand unmet, “Por favor, ven conmigo. (Please come with me.)” She instructed.

Friar Francis led her through the entrance to the cathedral. They walked up the central aisle. The altar was gone in this cathedral. In place of that was a throne-like chair. Above it was another sloppy pentagram banner hanging. There was a man sitting in the chair. He wore a matching hooded cloak to Friar Francis. There were people standing before him. Consuela surmised that the man was acting as a judge for some sort of legal proceeding. Friar Francis instructed her to take a seat on a wooden pew in the back. Friar Francis approached the Man in the chair. She whispered something in his ear. The Man gazed back at Consuela and stood up.

“Ciudadanos nobles, Posponemos la justicia
del Señor para otro día. Por favor, vuelve mañana a la primera luz. (Noble
citizens, We postpone the righteousness of the Lord for another day. Please
come back tomorrow at first light,)” the Man made the announcement. The people
murmured but no one protested: they seem to have known better. The townspeople
filed out of the cathedral. Soon it was only Consuela, Friar Francis, and the
hooded Man in the chair. He gestured for Consuela to approach him. She slowly
moved toward the throne.

“Bienvenidos a la Corte del Señor. Se nos
conoce como la Societatum Pentagram. O en español: de la Orden del Pentagrama.
(Welcome to the Court of the Lord. We are known as the Societatum Pentagram. Or
in Spanish: the Order of the Pentagram,)” the man stated. Consuela was trying
to keep track of it all.

“Mi nombre es Monseñor Pietro Carafa.
Baraer de la Lanza del Destino. La Herida de la Lanza de Cristo. Quién es
usted? (My name is Monsignor Pietro Carafa, Barer of the Spear of Destiny, The
Spear Wound of Christ. Who are you?)” Monsignor Carafa had exclaimed, and he sat
back down once finished.

“Mi nombre es Consuela, y me buscan
justicia. (My name is Consuela, and I seek justice,)” Consuela had told the
Monsignor of her story, and that of her family and of her brother. She told him
about her burning passion for retribution upon the El Paradiso cartel. She had
also gone into detail about her study of Scripture, but most of all her weapons
training. These details about her piqued Monsignor Carafa’s interest. She was
desperate for a way to not feel powerless.

Monsignor Carafa told her about the
Order’s ongoing Holy War against the cartels. In addition to the Five Wounds of
Christ, he also employed a private army. Monsignor Carafa explained to her about a recent battle that had taken
place. Friar Innocent, The Left Hand, had been killed in a skirmish. Carafa had
told her that he needed to ordain a new Left Hand, otherwise they would not be
the Five Wounds of Christ: only four.

After a lengthy conversation, he had Consuela give a demonstration of her combat ability. She showed him her marksmanship and her bayonet ability. He interrogated her in depth about her knowledge of scripture. Consuela seemed to have passed Carafa’s tests. Carafa had offered her food and shelter for the night, so she agreed to stay in Rama.

That night the Friars had given Consuela the cathedral tower to bed down in. She had hauled her gear to the room below the bell in the tower. She had settled in and was studying the Bible when she heard it: across the town were the echoes of anguished cries and the sounds of hammering. She surmised that it was the sounds of the condemned being nailed to crucifixes. Consuela felt uneasy and cringed when she heard the cries and thought about iron nails piercing flesh. Here she was, studying the Old Testament and plotting revenge and yet she could not handle the distant noise of crucifixions? She tried to harden her heart, but she was too human. She resorted to putting in earplugs she had for shooting, then she put out her lantern. She laid there, thinking about the surreal journey thus far. Consuela wondered what tomorrow would hold. She decided that she couldn’t wait and soon she was asleep.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

Morning came quickly. Consuela was awoken by sun rays beaming through a stain glass window that cast a red hue directly onto her face. She put on her clothes and shouldered her rifle. She exited the room and descended a set of spiral stairs leading to the ground floor. She stepped through a wooden door to the worship hall. As she entered she could see a legal proceeding in progress. Monsignor Carafa was sitting on the throne, and a man stood before him, in chains. Consuela took a seat on a pew and watched intently.

“Enrique Salamanca. Se le acusa de
conspiración para corromper a los seguidores de Cristo mediante la promoción de
vicio. Lo que usted dice en su defensa? (Enrique Salamanca. He stands accused
of conspiracy to corrupt followers of Christ by promoting vice. What do you say
in your defense?) Monsignor Carafa asked the man, with a smirk adorning his
face.