Chapter 27 – The Sin of Lust
Friday Evening, September 23, 2310 - Twenty Minutes Earlier
From far out over the ocean, the storm clouds raced toward the city. People hurried home to avoid the imminent aeronautical chaos. Angel City hovered above old Los Angeles, but from any vantage point, the ominous clouds on the distant horizon blocked the setting sun, accelerating the afternoon's cooling into night.
The International Waters, or high water, also known as pirate territory, was already awash in the oncoming storm. It promised to roll in from the ocean and do its best to drown Angel City before midnight.
When a real storm hit an elevated city, the entire metropolitan area was in the middle of it. On sunlit, cloud-filled days, the celestial municipality could be like heaven, and just after a storm is one of its most beautiful moments, but during a heavy storm, the air itself will seem to come alive with madness.
The handful of teens who'd earlier passed the bum-janitor, now loitered on benches outside a convenience store. They were still smoking, drinking, ridiculing people and otherwise misbehaving.
The chief antagonist, Slick, carried at least thirty illegal weapons. His best friend since childhood, a massive beast called Abbot, had recently decided against a professional career in the ring. A healthy sense of greed informed the young thug that winning as a fighter often meant losing as a man. His father and grandfather had both been champion fighters. Abbot had seen too many champions in their later stages of dementia and he watched those who called themselves friends, rob the old men.
Dancer, Slick's exceptionally attractive girlfriend, hung on his arm. Her best friend, Candy, had been trying to catch Abbot's eye all afternoon.
Last but not least, trailed the respectably dressed Nate, odd man of the group. His expensive clothes disguised a short temper. His battered knuckles, scratched and bruised face testified to his exceptionally explosive tendencies. The polished clean-cut image contrasted with his single goal of punching your lights out. He was obsessed with an open act of rebellion against everyone. How he got along with Slick and Abbot was anyone’s guess.
Down the street, Dancer saw the lights of the meeting hall flicker on. She watched a couple people enter through a side door, carrying groceries.
Every street urchin worth their salt knew that for fifteen minutes at the start of any open support group, there was free grub and no cover charge. The only catch was that you have to get there on time or the finger food would be gone and the meeting would have gotten too deep to slip in unnoticed.
Morgenstern removed his coat and laid it across an unoccupied chair. He had dressed in a tailored black suit, replete with vest, tie and handkerchief. Almost seven feet tall, he called the meeting to order and gestured for everyone to take their seats.
The teen ruffians made their way toward a central group of unoccupied chairs and spread out. They were in no hurry to step back out into the rain. Smiling, they compared the treasures piled on their plates and muttered to each other about how good it all looked, yet something about the way the adults were staring at them had subtly discouraged the teens from stuffing their mouths.
Candy noticed the robed Cole and the hooded girl. She clutched at Dancer's elbow. As the oddness of the situation sunk in, the kids reevaluated their situation. The chairs had been arranged in a haphazard semi-circle, with just a few filling the top section, near the podium. The adults regarded them with either open lust or indifference. It seemed half the adults present wanted to eat them, the other half were just curious to see what might happen. Before digging in, the teens found they had lost their appetite.
When Morgenstern began to speak, his captive audience turned their attention toward the podium. "Good evening, welcome, everyone." His deep voice fit him.
Morgenstern read from a sheet. "We gather here to acknowledge that which sets us apart from our peers. We are not here to judge, but to listen. If we can help, we will attempt to do so with compassion and humility.”
He looked out at the crowd and then scanned the rest of the paper. He set it to the side. "Let's just move on to the introductions.” The battle-scarred pathologist came around from the podium to take a seat in the front of the room.
"Some of you are new here,” Morgenstern nodded to Courtland. “So I'll just start."
He cleared his throat. "I'm an old man. I have lived an interesting life. I have learned many things the average person does not learn during their average life. I know this because the average man has never killed another man. I have killed many.
"I know many truths about killing. I know there is an afterlife and it is populated by other beings. They seem alien to us. They are beyond us. They feed on our energy, on our souls.
"We are as grapes, grown for a single season. During that time we are the vintner's chief concern. We are his labor and his love. In the fall we are harvested and remembered by our Lord as a fine vintage, with a pleasant meal, shared among friends.
"The Lord is our shepherd, we shall not want. Our coats shall be cared for and grow thick and full. Our meat and marrow, seasoned and succulent." Morgenstern grinned.
The teens stared; slack-jawed, eyes glued to black-suited giant.
Dunkirk and the governor sat to their right, both drooling at the children. Across from them, Ashley and the Detective sat with Escurrido and the Gardner. Mallus and Courtland sat few rows back.
Morgenstern addressed the teens directly. "Cain and Abel. You know the story? Two brothers who worshiped the Lord, both desired to make a pleasing sacrifice. Could be any lord, or landlord, really. Doesn't so much matter that it was God. It's best not to think of him that way. Think of him as you would any other banker, could be a man or a woman. It makes his actions look a lot more rational. Anyhow, Cain sacrificed the fruit of his labor, his finest sheaf of wheat. Abel, the shepherd, his finest calf.
"God liked Abel's sacrifice better. Why? What was the difference? Look here, I'll tell you. This is the most closely guarded secret of all time. Bread or meat? Wheat or blood? You can’t have much of a sandwich if you only have the bread, but steak, everyone has eaten steak. The Lamb of God, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. It takes ten pounds of grain to produce a pound of meat, did you know that?”
"Why did Cain kill Abel? Jealousy? Come off it. The bible tells us that then Cain slew Abel and that God asked him, Where is your brother? Cain should have answered, Sacrificed for your pleasure, my Lord.
"Perhaps Cain, acknowledging that God's delight in blood, thought he might be rewarded if he sacrificed Abel. God does seem to love the blood.
“Abraham was asked to kill Isaac. He never objected. Sacrifice didn't seem too strange a request, back in the day.
"And our souls? Worth about the same as an apple or a steak; life and energy. In the end, we are angel-fruit. The wine from our souls, our blood, is heaven's fabled ambrosia.
"The Secret of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? The secret we were warned against, on the pain of death. The fruit of the tree of life is the truth of the blood sacrifice.
"There is a little of God's fire in each of us. More in the angels, but there is some in every life, even in the plants and animals. When stoked, when fueled and fed, it grows. The only limit to the accumulation of this energy is the quantity of fuel available. A soul containing others, consumed, compressed and multiplied, becomes unstoppable. I know this, because I have found Eden and the trees of life and knowledge are unguarded.
"Guarded by an angel with a fiery sword?" Morgenstern looked over to the hooded Ashley, then back to the teens. "I have raped and murdered her a thousand times.
"For a long time I thought the gods must surely try and stop me, but with each kill I'm stronger. I've walked through a thousand attacks and accidents, any of which would kill a normal man, but I've killed thousands, and so somehow I always survive. I should make peace with myself and make the most of my life. Don't you think?”
Morgenstern’s gaze settled on the teens.
&n
bsp; Slick leaned forward in his chair. "I think you are one fucked up motherfucker. I don't even believe in God, but I know you're an asshole.”
Morgenstern laughed. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. The best mankind has had to offer; they have all been assassinated. The eye of the needle, as it were. At any time in history, all you have to do is speak the truth. Yet how few of us have that courage.
"Here I sit, a murdering sadist. I am healthy, wealthy, free and prosperous. We were created in God's image; the blood we have spilt is on his hands as much as our own. My name is Franklin Gustav Morgenstern. Nice to meet you.”
The lunatic nodded to Courtland in the back, who smiled in reply.
Morgenstern looked over to Nelson, nodding and passing the torch.
"Um, okay. Wow. How do you top the secrets of the universe? Yeah. Survival, Origins, Evolution. Angels and Demons. I dig it. Okay. I'm Nelson," he said.
Ashley's head pricked up at the sound of his voice.
The sanitation engineer, who'd also been appointed by the state as Ashley's worthless legal defense, leaned forward. "I recently got my law degree and passed the bar. Tried my first case this past week. It took a whole day. They make it look so fast in the vid streams.
"For fun I like to do pressings. We have this big electric press at work. I just lay the canvas out, arrange my subject and hit the button. They make such fascinating shapes. I have some samples I can give away later, if anyone's interested. That'll be fun. Anyhow, that's it for me.”
Nelson looked over to the Governor.
The old woman took a drag off her cigarette. "Everyone calls me Auntie, Auntie Maime," she said. "My hobby is cooking. I love preparing special dishes. I have a scrapbook but I don't know what to call it. Cooking with Kiddies? Children 'ala Mode?" she laughed.
Several members giggled at the terrifying inside joke.
"I like Hansel and Gretel, a Retrospective," Auntie mused.
Horrified, the kids set their plates on the floor and pushed them away.
The Texan roared with laughter. Several members snickered.
Ash growled. Her left hand was still trapped, halfway over her thumb.
Governor Maime nodded to Dunkirk.
"Hi. I'm Marty," he announced.
Forgotten in the back row, the bum sat up. Beneath his wide brimmed hat, he blinked repeatedly. He moved, crablike, toward the front. He took a seat in the open circle of guests, looking strangely at Dunkirk.
No one spoke. His sudden appearance seemed to unnerve the psychotic group. Keller, however, smiled and leaned forward.
The janitor-bum stared at Dunkirk. He pulled out a bottle of alcohol from the folds of his coat. He tore the plastic from the cap and discarded it onto the floor. The janitor downed half the bottle and burped. He returned the whiskey to his coat, the bottle clinking against another.
“I have this condition. I have a really short fuse. I get so fucking angry.” Dunkirk scowled and directed his comments at the group's newest guest.
The bum leaned back in the chair, pulled his hat over his eyes and slipped back into his drunken sleep.
"Obscene behavior is a personal pet peeve of mine. It gets under my skin like nothing else.”
As if on cue, the bum shifted his position and scratched his groin, he then commenced to snore softly.
Dunkirk leaned forward, one leg began to bounce maniacally. "Some people just don't know how close to the edge they get sometimes.” He took a deep breath and spoke to the floor, "I'm done.”
The room stayed quiet for a few moments.
Next to Dunkirk, the Texan leaned forward. "Well howdy, how-dee. So. I've learned to accept it, to live with it. I've got my habits, my desires and a talent for making my wildest dreams a reality.” He pulled out a cigar. “If there's a God, fuck, man, he likes me.” The Texan lit the cigar. He talked around it, between mighty puffs. "He gave me everything I wanted. Maybe because I understand, like you do," The Texan gestured to Morgenstern, "that you gotta make sacrifices.
"And I have to say, that's a real cute analogy about Cain. Rest of what you said is pure horseshit. I should know, I came up in Texas and I've had my share. But if you like the smell, fuck son, it's your stable." He tapped a bit of ash from his cigar onto the floor.
"Anyhow, you want something, you gotta give. That's how I see it. And the good Lord does like them blood sacrifices best; let me tell you that. You got that much right, big man. I have the bank accounts to prove it, but I've said enough.”
Again the silence lingered.
The not-so-good Doctor Mallus simply raised his hand and nodded, saying nothing.
Eventually, the assembled citizens started looking over to the kids, as Slick was next in the line up.
Slick exposed the hidden joint he had cupped in his hand. He took a drag and exhaled.
"Y'all is fucked up. Rain or not, I'm out." Slick stood and walked toward the door. With mock surprise he pointed out a fact he'd already noticed, the door had been locked and chained.
"Oh, what the fuck? Now that, my friends, is a fucking fire hazard. We can't have that, can we, Abbot?”
Abbot, Dancer, Nate and Candy looked at the chained doors.
Abbot stood up. "That's a fire hazard.”
"Sit down, both of you," Morgenstern said calmly, condescendingly.
Slick turned on him. "Look, mate, I'm not a killer, but under these conditions, I got no problem with becoming one. Unchain these doors.”
Morgenstern didn't reply but Slick hung in there and didn't break the stare.
"Abbot, what about the hinges?”
Abbot looked the doors up and down, inspecting their durability. He lifted the chain, it was secured with a timed padlock, digitally counting down toward zero. There was a little over ninety minutes remaining.
"Cheap bolts. I can bust us out, if it comes to it. But it would put us in a right jam sandwich," he said.
The janitor stirred, produced another unopened bottle, cracked it and drank a good amount. He sealed it returned it to a pocket before drifting back to sleep.
Ash continued to work at her cuffs. Her left thumb was likely dislocated, the hand itself numb, swollen and bruised, still jammed halfway in, halfway out of the cuff.
"The doors will be unchained at ten pm," Morgenstern said. "That's not so long, is it? Suffer the presence of your elders, boy.”
"Besides, the food is tasty, don't you think?" Nelson interjected.
The Texan pulled out a dark terillium revolver and Dunkirk, sitting next to him, pulled a machete from his valise.
Slick saw the weapons and a flechette pistol appeared in his hand.
Dancer leaned forward, "You're a bunch of fucking serial killers!!”
"You don't know that." Governor Maime said. "Try and look past appearances. This is called role-playing. This is the creative part, right before the wild orgy. But you'll never know unless your patient. When's the last time you had your asshole licked clean?”
“Eww.” Candy grimaced and huddled closer to Nate and Dancer, "Did you hear what she said? She's fucking crazy!”
Dancer was horrified. "I want out.”
Slick pulled weapons from his pockets and passed them out. He gave Dancer a massive knife. To Nate, went a wicked pair of stun-knuckles and for Candy, a butterfly knife, he opened it and locked the handle for her.
Across the aisle, Pablo's eyes sparkled at the sight of Slick's knives. "Hold it like this," he suggested to Candy, gesturing for her to turn the knife over, upside down, along the inside of her forearm.
Candy looked to Abbot, who glanced back and forth between her and Escurrido before confirming the suggestion.
"For defense it's safer," Abbot agreed. "He's right. Hold it like that.”
Candy inverted her grip.
Dancer did the same with her massive knife.
Pablo grinned in affirmation.
Slick pointed the flechette gun at his face.
Escurrido leaned back in his seat.
S
lick addressed the assembled strangers. "Any of you want a cyanide bolt in your dome, just fucking sneeze.”
"May we resume the introductions then?" Morgenstern asked. "I believe that beautiful creature on your left is next.”
Dancer looked up, "Me? I pass, you freaky motherfucker.”
Nate followed her lead, "Pass.”
Candy as well, "Pass.”
Abbot was last on their row. "I have killed before," he flatly stated. "And I have no problems with putting you miserable fucks down. Like the man said, Sneeze, and I will rip your throat out to piss on your heart.”