In my best drill sergeant voice, channeling Samuel L Jackson as best I could, I let my voice fill the barn as I cried, “Ezekiel 25:17. “
All eyes snapped to me.
I continued, “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.”
I pushed DeLorean forward so everyone could get a good look at me. “Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children.”
“What is this intrusion?” demanded the Reverend.
But I shouted even louder and said, “And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers! And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you!”
One side of the Reverend’s face had fallen and no matter how active the other side was, this side refused to move. I knew exactly the cause of it. Stroke. The great leveler. But as still as that side was, the other was animated in fury.
“How dare you blaspheme in this house!” he seemed to try and stand, but failed.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle, old man?”
“Get this blasphemer,” he ordered.
I pushed DeLorean forward. “Anyone comes closer and I’ll blow her away.”
This stopped the man and woman who’d been coming toward me from my left and right.
“I have my finger on the trigger and if anyone so much as shoots me, as I’m falling my body will cause the trigger to be pulled, killing your daughter.”
The Rev stared at me, anger mixing with uncertainty.
“Poor Daddy, doesn’t know what to do,” she said.
“If she has a seizure, you will kill her,” the Reverend said.
“Want me to pretend to have one, Daddy?” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Get rid of me once and for all? I know you hate having me around. I know you wished I wasn’t — what was it you called me — a blaspheming sexpot bitch.”
His face reacted as if he’d been struck as the congregation turned to him. I’m sure the last thing he wanted was for this super-personal soap opera to be playing out.
“You know that’s not what I want,” he said.
“Yes it is, Daddy. I’ve heard you talking with the others.”
“No it is not,” he said, bringing his hand down on his throne, knocking free the bible which fluttered to the feet of the alien. The Rev looked around as if he noticed for the first time that everyone was staring at him. “I just want her to be normal,” he said, frustration filling his words. “I just want you to be normal,” he said to her.
“I am, Daddy. This is the new normal.” She spread her hands. “This is how we cope. You have your way, chowing down on alien lunch meat, and I have mine, trying to replace the images I have in my mind with something closer to love.”
“That’s not love,” he said.
“It’s closer to love than anything you’ve shown me since Mother died,” she cried.
For this he had no response. The Rev slouched back in his chair, head down for several moments. Then, as if it took all of his energy, he raised it. “What is it you want Righteous Man?”
“I want her,” I said, pointing to Suzie.
“Is that all?”
I looked at my helmeted captive and at the congregation, much of them with blood-smeared faces. I knew what I saw was wrong, I knew what they were doing was terrible, but how could I limit their free will? This was their desire. This was their belief. Who was I to stop them? But there was one more thing I could do.
“Free it,” I said.
“What?” he said, staring at his Alien Christ. “That cannot be done.”
“Is this not the blood of Jesus? Is this not his flesh?” I asked.
Several of the congregation nodded, and then looked to the Rev to see his answer.
“Transubstantiation. This thing is not Christ until I say the Eucharist. Then it becomes him.”
“So is it not now Christ?” I asked. “Do you hold your own god captive?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” he said dismissively.
“Let me tell you who I am. I am Benjamin Carter Mason. I am Hero of the Mound. I’m the one who brought down the first hive on the plains of Africa. I’m also the one who became a zombie only to return. Many of you lost family to the spore. I can tell you that they felt and heard everything that happened when they were zombies.”
Several of the congregation sobbed and broke into tears. Probably those who’d been forced to kill those who’d become infected.
“I’m also the one who took a squad of mechanized infantry and brought down the Hollywood Hive. I’m the one who went in there. I’m the one who fought Cray — man to alien. I’m the one who blew that hive off the face of the planet. I above all should hate the Cray and god knows I do. But as you say, I am a righteous man. Kirk is a righteous man. And neither of us would allow a creature to be kept in so much pain and suffering.”
I saw both fear and wonder on many faces.
“So yes, I would have this thing be free. So free the damn thing and find something else to pretend to be Jesus then you can eat that too.”
I realized that by the end, I was shouting, especially when the last three words echoed in the silence several times.
“That was impressive,” DeLorean said, her voice empty of the seductress.
“It’s merely the truth,” I said.
“But I don’t get one thing,” she said.
“And what’s that?”
“Who the heck is Kirk?”
“That’s a longer story that I don’t care to tell.”
The Rev gestured for a man to free Suzie from her cell.
I pushed DeLorean down a set of stairs. I met several pairs of eyes as I descended to the bottom. No one was angry. All seemed to be in wonder. These weren’t bad people, they just wanted something to believe in. Anything. Instead of what they’d been doing, I showed them there was a different path. A righteous path. I doubt they’d all follow it, but maybe some would.
At the bottom of the theater/church, I stood but a few feet away from the Rev. Up close I could see how the stroke had ravaged him. He’d looked to have been a large imposing man, but was half that now, his right side totally immobile.
“Do you want your daughter back?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” he said.
“No,” I paused to lend emphasis to my words. “Do you want your daughter back?”
He stared at me.
“It means don’t chain her up in the basement.”
My words caused a few gasps from the congregation.
“It means help her deal with her issues. Let her help you deal with yours. Jesus, at this point don’t you think we can all just get along?”
I glanced at the Cray who seemed to be looking at me as if it understood everything that was going on. I felt a tickle in my brain and knew that a master was trying to communicate through it, perhaps even control me. I fought against it, sending it images of the dead and wounded, hoping each one would be enough of a road block to keep it from doing so.
The Rev looked for a moment as if he was going to do the right thing. Then said instead, “Trap sprung. Amos. Steve. Kill this man. Emma, Frank, Sara, Rolando, Carl, to me.”
The man who had been about to unlock the cell door stopped and stepped away.
Amos and Steve both stood from different places in the congregation. They held pistols, pointing at me. Two men and two women descended the stairs toward us, but of the fifth there was no sign.