Chapter 29

PM

“A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.” ― Laura Gilpin

1420 hours, local time,
Saturday, 31 January, 2015
Magnolia Manor
Cairo, Illinois

Mayor Joshua Barnes was more than a little relieved at the presence of the Prophet David Howard, of course. Given that the city of Cairo was only spared the worst of the crazed violence of the surrounding areas by its relative isolation, it was a mercy that not only did the Prophet and his gang manage to blast through the Hell’s Angels, but he made it safely to the below level town, protected by levees from the nearby rivers.

The Prophet looked out over the town, a handful of buildings peeking out from the rolling Mississippi floodplain. The river was a constant presence here, a serene giant that had been both a lifeline and a nemesis to the people of Cairo. The town looked tired, but there was a stubborn vitality to it that made him feel hopeful. It was a stark contrast to the desolate wasteland they’d been traveling through for weeks.

“The Hell’s Angels have really disrupted life in this state, especially in southern Illinois, haven’t they?” David remarked, his hands protectively holding his legal wife, Andrea, and their niece, Denise Catalan, who was among his many other wives, even if unofficial.

Mayor Barnes nodded gravely, his eyes reflecting a mix of anger and resignation. “They’ve turned what was once a thriving community into a series of small, isolated pockets of fear and survival. They take what they want and leave destruction in their wake. But Cairo has held out, thanks to the cooperation of the local survivors and our strategic location.”

“For the record, yes, I am the Prophet David Howard ... of the Havenite faith. This is my ... wife, my first wife, Andrea. This is our niece, my second wife, you might say, Denise. This is Amanda Shapiro, this is her husband, Allen, and this is Connie, their wife. This is Melanie Brewster and her husband, Kyle. She used to be a Unitarian minister, though we’re all Havenites now. This is Jenny Fajardo, a former bank teller ... and this is Mercedes, a former assistant to a used car dealer. She’s from Brazil.

“These are Karen and Salome, former waitresses from the Hammerhead Bar and Grill. This is Tom Walters, a former tattoo artist ... and this is his sister, Colleen, who is a widow and a former tattoo artist, too. This is Clement, Mercedes’s boss, and this is Claire Liggett, a car dealership owner herself ... or former owner, I guess. This is Cory Bradshaw, Karen’s fiance, and this is Violet, his mother.

“This is Kait Corcoran, a former waitress from a cafe ... and this is Tozroman, a ... demon,” David introduced some members of his party, before the Mayor inadvertently interrupted him.

“Well, as you know, I am Joshua Barnes, Mayor of Cairo, Illinois. This is the City Council ... this is Arlena Zoitakis, Marcus Mladic, Orson Warren, Stuart Levin, and Dario Espinoza. This is Lionel Warlimont, the City Solicitor, this is Morton Dubbs, the Treasurer, and this is Chief Constable Lars Gunderson, head of our constabulary, our police force, however limited in size and scope ... though our population has swollen due to our refugees,” the Mayor introduced the municipal government, even if he was a bit jolted for a second by the candid mention of polygamy ... confirming some rumors right now.

The group walked through the busy streets, children playing as if the world hadn’t ended, a stark contrast to the chaos and savagery of the outside world. The Mayor was worried, of course, about the continued threat of Hell’s Angels, among other things, of ways to preserve their better way of life. The continued threat of privation, managed through rationing and cautious commerce with folks in sectors within Missouri and Iowa, naturally concerned him and his fellow city fathers or elders. The economy had remained somewhat stable, but shortages naturally served as a constant irritant ... shortages of things once taken for granted, such as gasoline, for instance.

The air was thick with the scent of cooking fires and the distant rumble of generators. The buildings were a patchwork of salvaged materials, a testament to the town’s resourcefulness. The Prophet noticed that despite the makeshift repairs, there was an underlying order to the town, a sense of unity that was palpable. It was a stark contrast to the anarchy they had seen outside the city walls. These people had worked hard and cooperated for the greater good in spite the hardships that didn’t exist in some other communities.

As they walked, Mayor Barnes pointed out the various shops and stalls that had sprung up, each one a sign of life’s resilience. There were traders bartering goods, a blacksmith hammering away at a new piece of metal, and a doctor’s office where a line of patients waited patiently, hope etched on their faces. The town’s economy had adapted to the scarcity of goods, using a mix of barter and a local currency called “Cairo Coins.” It was a system that kept the community afloat.

“Well, there is some hope here, but it will mean ... working with certain communities in Missouri. Particularly ... St. Louis,” David suggested, reminding Barnes of the one prospect that he had considered most ... and even traded with, but still kept at arm’s length ... the predominantly Havenite city of St. Louis.

“We’ve had some contact with them, yes,” Mayor Barnes said cautiously. “But to be frank, we’re still ... debating about ... well, you know.”

“Religion,” David answered succinctly, because Havenism was still very controversial across North America ... some loved it, some hated and feared it, and some were ... on the fence.

“Exactly,” Mayor Barnes said, his eyes flickering towards the Council members who had remained silent during the introductions. “We’ve managed to keep the peace by being a secular city, welcoming all survivors regardless of their beliefs. But we’ve heard that St. Louis has embraced your teachings. We’re concerned that aligning too closely with them might make us a target for those who ... disagree ... and that they might be too ... theocratic.”

“Ask around, my friend. Ask us, in fact. We can answer many of your ... questions and concerns about our faith ... and our doctrines and institutions ... and our intentions, of course,” David offered freely, seeking to mollify or reassure the Mayor.

The Mayor looked at him intently, then sighed and nodded. “I’ll consider it. But for now, let’s focus on more immediate matters. We’ve prepared a space for you and your tribe at the edge of town. It’s not much, but it’s secure and you’ll have access to what resources we can spare.”

“That is quite gracious and hospitable of Your Honors. I very much appreciate that, my friends. History will be kind to you and your government ... and we will help you in what ways we can, if you wish it, of course, in whichever ways that you need,” David told him with a very sincere smile, of course, “having been on the road for so long ... we are not going to be picky.”

The Mayor nodded, his eyes weary but hopeful. “We can always use extra hands and minds, especially skilled ones. We’re working on reinforcing our defenses, setting up a better communication system with the outside world, and finding ways to produce more food. We’re also trying to get our power grid back up and running. We’ve got some engineers who’ve made progress, but it’s a slow process.”

“Yes, I noticed the back-up generators, which is definitely a necessary step in the meantime, and gives you more options ... especially in the most ... urgent sectors. At the very least, we can assist with the food distribution, maybe more than that, given that so many of our people have experience in food services. My own experience is in commerce ... small business, antiques in my case, as is Claire’s, Clement’s, and Mercedes’s ... and Tom and Colleen.

“Jenny here, of course, has some experience in banking, of course, however limited. Allen, mind you, is a chemist, of course. Kyle is an attorney, for what it’s worth. Cory is, well, a student. Andrea is a pharmacy technician,” David informed him now of some of the trades and skills that they had, “I’m not quite sure of a demon’s skill set ... outside of security and defense, but those are handy right now, of course.”

“We’ve all had to adapt since Fireball Day,” Mayor Barnes said with a wry smile. “But I’m sure we’ll find something for everyone to do. Our community is strong, but we could use some new ideas, especially when it comes to security. The Hell’s Angels have been pushing northward, and we can’t risk them discovering our location.”

The look on the Mayor’s face made it clear that Tozroman might actually be the most useful member of the tribe, which was a real shift, of course. Of course, David didn’t quite disclose the full extent of his powers, but if he did, the Mayor would really perk up. A Prophet had certain martial skills, ones which had to be seen to be believed. A demon’s abilities were ... quite obvious.

The Prophet looked at the people they passed by, their eyes curious and wary. They knew who he was, of course. News traveled fast, even in the post-apocalyptic world. He could feel their gazes, a mix of awe and skepticism. Some whispered prayers, others spat on the ground. David knew that winning their trust would be a challenge, but it was a challenge he was ready to face. He had to show them that Haven wasn’t just a place; it was an idea that could save them all. The nudity of several members of his family or tribe probably did him no favors with some, even as it helped him with others.

That was when ... well, someone hurled a Molotov cocktail at them ... clearly up to no good. David was able to catch it, much to everyone’s shock, and hurl it right back at the assailant, incinerating him in front of everyone ... but how did he pull that off ... he wasn’t even sure. He had just acted on reflexes, or so it seemed.

The crowd gasped and backed away as the flaming figure writhed in pain before collapsing to the ground, the stench of burning flesh and gasoline filling the air. The Prophet looked around, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination that even Mayor Barnes couldn’t ignore.

“Someone wanted one of us dead, but just who was the target, we can’t be sure. Be confident of this, though ... no one shall harm the Mayor or Council while I reside here, nor shall they be able to slay me or my tribe during my stay,” David’s eyes turned pure white, no pupils, temporarily blinded for a hot minute before his vision returned, and his voice didn’t sound human at all.

He had prophesied with the words of God or Heaven ... and this particular occasion, God chose to make it apparent to his audience that He was with David ... that David was indeed His Prophet. The city fathers were floored as they witnessed this astonishing event.

Mayor Barnes staggered back, his hand over his heart. “My ... my God,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The Council members exchanged shocked glances, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. Even Chief Gunderson, a burly man who had seen his fair share of horrors, looked shaken.

“It’s ... true, isn’t it? You really are the real thing, an actual, living Prophet, which means that the other Havenite Prophets must be true as well. They all speak for God, even the one in Haven itself,” Gunderson declared in shock.

“Especially him,” David’s voice sounded thunderous right then.

The crowd grew quiet, the shock of what they had just witnessed hanging in the air like a dense fog. The Mayor, still visibly shaken, managed to compose himself. “Well, Prophet Howard, your arrival has certainly made an ... impression,” he said, swallowing hard. “We’ll have to review our security measures immediately.”

The whispers around them grew in frequency and pitch, people pointing at the Prophet, a new fear and reverence in his presence rather evident. They pointed at his entourage, especially the demon Tozroman, an authentic devil in the flesh in front of them. His horns, crimson skin, pointed tail, and pitchfork were impossible to ignore, after all.

The Prophet turned to Mayor Barnes, his eyes now back to normal, and his voice gentle yet firm. “This act of violence only underscores the urgency of our mission. We must stand united against those who would seek to destroy what we’ve built here. Our way of life is precious, and I believe that together, we can ensure its survival.”

“I can ... see that. Allen here is really a chemist? That is impressive ... what is your specialty in that field?” Barnes, whose father had been a high school chemistry teacher, recalled that now, especially with the Molotov cocktail attack.

“Synthetic biology and biochemistry, but since Fireball Day, I’ve had to ... diversify,” Allen said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor, even though his heart was racing from the close call.

“And as stated, I’m a pharmacy tech,” Andrea reminded them.

“I was briefly a lifeguard ... shocking, given my youth, but the Mafia state was lowering some of those required ages since it took shape. That’s why I was able to deliver pizzas, too ... relaxed child labor laws,” Denise added for her part, “if you don’t want a nudist lifeguard, of course. Oh, wait, it’s the wrong season for swimming, isn’t it?”

“Still, your training can make you very useful in certain cases. CPR, Heimlich, etc.,” Ms. Zoitakis reassured her, “I was a gym and health teacher and swimming coach before going into politics.”

The Prophet nodded, a smile playing on his lips, “Indeed, Denise’s skills would serve well in a medical capacity, and as for me, I can be quite persuasive, if that’s what you need.”

“I can see that you’ve been ... underestimated, to say the least,” Barnes smiled now, albeit awkwardly.

“It’s not uncommon. But we are here to serve,” David assured him, his eyes sweeping over the Council members, “and I suspect you’re going to need a good deal of ... persuasion in the coming days, with the Hell’s Angels and other issues. And you know where to find us if you need anything.”

“Sir, we’ve just received a report ... the Hell’s Angels have taken Nauvoo and executed any Mormon leaders still there. They made a very public spectacle of it, too. They clearly wanted to make an example of them. Most of the LDS there have already fled to Deseret, but these ones stayed behind to buy time for their escape,” an aide now informed the Chief Constable, who basically headed what passed for defense, security, and police forces in the small town.

The Mayor’s smile faded immediately. “They’re getting closer,” he murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

“Pardon my French, but you need a proper militia, my friend. There’s no getting around that fact. A police force, even paramilitary, won’t hold off an invader like that,” David warned the Mayor.

Mayor Barnes nodded, his expression grim. “We’ve been trying to organize one, but it’s been tough. We don’t have the manpower or the resources to train and arm everyone who wants to fight. And we can’t just hand weapons to anyone off the street.”

“Another area where we can assist, then. I recommend putting Tozroman in charge of it, but with supervision from the Chief Constable, because, well, not everyone is going to quite trust a demon yet,” David proposed.

Mayor Barnes’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t immediately object. “You think a ... demon ... can help us organize a defense?”

“He’s your best bet in terms of specializing in warfare, I would argue. What were demons but soldiers in an army ... just not a human one?” David raised that point now.

Mayor Barnes took a deep breath and looked at Tozroman, who nodded gravely, “I understand your ... reservations, Mayor. But I assure you, our intentions are peaceful, and I would defend your city with everything I have,” Tozroman said, his voice surprisingly calm and reassuring despite his monstrous exterior.

The Council members exchanged uneasy glances, but the Mayor held up a hand to silence them. “Let’s table this for now,” he said, his voice firm. “We’ll discuss it in private. For now, let’s get the Prophet and his people settled. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

They walked towards the designated area, passing by a group of residents who had gathered around the charred remains of the would-be assassin. The whispers grew louder as they approached, and David felt a mix of satisfaction and unease at the power he had just demonstrated. It was a tool to be used wisely.

As if that wasn’t crazy enough, all of the sudden, a massive, blindingly white figure stood in the street and pointed to David with a stern expression on its face.

“The Prophet of God ... behold and listen to him, for he speaks the words of Heaven as well as of Haven. I am Gabriel, an angel of Heaven ... take heed not to slander or libel this man, for he is of God,” the figure spreads its wings ... and then flew away.

The crowd stood there, frozen for a moment before bursting into a cacophony of whispers and gasps, dropping to their knees and praying fervently. The Mayor and Council looked at each other, stunned by the sudden appearance and divine endorsement.

“Well, Mayor, I guess that settles the question of our legitimacy,” David said with a smirk, as the townspeople approached them with a mix of fear and reverence.

Mayor Barnes couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “I suppose it does. This is ... unprecedented, to say the least. I don’t think anyone here has ever seen an actual angel before.”

“Let alone one so ... famous,” Councilman Warren added, “I grew up believing that the angel Moroni appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith and gave him the instructions to find the golden plates that became the Book of Mormon, but I never had visual confirmation or testimony of that ... as I do of this.”

The Prophet nodded solemnly, his heart racing with excitement and fear. The appearance of Gabriel was a clear sign that their mission was blessed, but it also meant that the stakes had been raised significantly. They had to tread carefully to maintain the goodwill of the townspeople and not let the power go to their heads. Gabriel also happened to be the father of the Lawgiver, Mark Schumacher, the greatest Prophet of the age, so that was very helpful in pointing up the legitimacy of the Lawgiver, the Chancellor of Haven and head of the Church of Haven.

The Council members looked at each other, their faces a mix of shock and awe. The Mayor cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose we can’t ignore that. Prophet Howard, we will discuss your offer to help with our defense at the Council meeting tonight.”

“Does this mean that ... Havenism ... which didn’t even exist until after Fireball Day, is the one true religion?” Zoitakis wondered in passing, “I grew up Greek Orthodox ... this is a bit of a jolt for me.”

David chuckled, “My dear, Havenism isn’t so much about theology and dogma nearly as much about practical teachings on how to live in brotherhood, sisterhood, and community. It’s about rebuilding civilization and living in peace with your fellow man ... the Golden Rule. Being a good neighbor. It’s not a mutually exclusive faith. You can be a Christian and Havenite, though it’s admittedly a paradox that will possibly lead to cognitive dissonance. Ditto Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, etc. Two of the Lawgiver’s wives are Assyrian Christians by birth and baptism, in fact.”

“But you do practice polygamy,” Gunderson asked pointedly.

“Among other things, yes,” David conceded, “I have plural wives, as do the others. I don’t conceal this fact at all. I live in the light, not in the shadows or the darkness.”

Mayor Barnes looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “We’ve had our share of ... unusual practices crop up since Fireball Day. We’ve had to adapt to survive. I suppose that’s what everyone’s doing. If it doesn’t interfere with the laws of the land and the well-being of our people, we might be able to find common ground.”

“Common ground is the objective, with a view toward the success, survival, peace, and prosperity of this community, in fact. You’ve held out this long ... I want this community to survive. It deserves to do so, having weathered the worst. The Hell’s Angels, though, aren’t going anywhere, and they do not care about your welfare, only their own. They need to be kept at bay and hopefully put down like the mad dogs that they are,” David agreed, grim resolve in his face and voice.

“On that note, they’ve also captured Joliet and Stateville ... including the former prisons. The escaped convicts who dominate those areas ... were slaughtered to the last man. The Hell’s Angels didn’t spare a soul of them. No quarter whatsoever,” another aide reported.

“They’re consolidating their power,” David said, his voice tight with tension, “They’re not just roving gangs anymore. They’re conquerors. We need to coordinate, not only with St. Louis and other communities in Missouri, but with Dubuque in Iowa, with Des Moines, Davenport, Vandalia, Springfield, and Wheaton in Illinois ... just to be frank here.”

David had just named the strongest communities in Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri, of course, outside of the Black Muslims in Kansas City, the militant sect controlling central Missouri, and the Ku Klux Klan, which held sway in parts of the Show Me State. Those are obvious omissions to him, but what if the Hell’s Angels weren’t quite as selective? That very thought made him shudder.

The Council meeting that night was intense. David and his people were invited to speak, and they presented their case. They talked about their journey, the creation of Haven, a city to which they were still on a pilgrimage, and their belief in the importance of unity and community. They were met with a range of reactions, from open hostility to cautious curiosity.

“So, you have the backing and blessing of Heaven, can stop a Molotov cocktail, travel with a full-size, highly functional warrior demon, and have multiple wives ... this reads like a wild sci-fi novel, not real life, if you’ll pardon my saying so. Charlotte Furstenberg, by the way. Cairo Observer. I’m the senior writer for my newspaper,” a tall, elegant woman with a dirty blonde bob and a pantsuit commented.

“Well, Miss Furstenberg, we are in a brave new world, aren’t we? Fireball Day was quite the plot twist, wasn’t it?” David Howard replied with a charming smile that had won over many a skeptic in his time.

“So ... your biological father was an angel ... but which one? Isn’t that one of the teachings of your church, that all Prophets are the sons or daughters of angels with human women?” Charlotte persisted.

“Yes, but they haven’t told me ... which angel yet, I’m afraid,” David confessed, “or how or why my mother lay with him when she was married to my father. Then again, Dad was ... gay. I found that out from his diary ... so that could have been a factor.”

The Council members shifted in their seats, clearly uncomfortable with the personal revelation. David could feel their skepticism, but also the flicker of intrigue. He knew his story was strange, but it was also undeniably powerful. It was the kind of narrative that could unite a fractured world, or so he hoped.

“Precisely, my boy. As to which angel sired you, you’ll find it when it’s time. Not sooner or later than that. But it was an angel, and it wasn’t fair to your mother to expect her not to get laid. She was his beard and they were partners, but he was an open book with her. He never lied to her ... and she never lied to him. He had men ... and so did she. One just happened to be an angel. Hello, allow me ... I’m God,” a tall, white-haired man suddenly appeared and spoke up.

The room erupted into gasps and murmurs as David’s eyes went wide, and Mayor Barnes looked like he was about to have a heart attack. The Council members stumbled backward, crossing themselves, except for the atheists who just stared in shock.

“Why does ... God ... have an Irish lilt in his voice?” Charlotte asked, half-expecting divine wrath and judgment, but still brave enough to ask that question.

“Because I am Irish. I’m the new God. I was an Irishman when I lived here on Earth. The Mormons got that one ... partly right ... partly wrong, too. The old God, Jehovah, the one who selected all of these Prophets, I might add, the same God who in his last fit of divine rage, caused the Fireballs, chose me as his successor, and no, I wasn’t able to stop Doomsday, just to guide you mortals out of it ... through my Prophets ... all of them sons or daughters of angels. I’m Richard Harris. You might remember me from my films. God apparently was a fan, so that helped my case,” God stunned them further.

The Council members, still in a state of disbelief, stared at the apparition before them, their eyes wide with shock. David felt a strange mix of awe and comfort, getting confirmation that the divine presence was on their side. This was more than just a sign; it was a declaration of support from the highest power in the Cosmos.

“You’re ... God?” Mayor Barnes managed to sputter, his eyes never leaving the figure of Richard Harris, the former Irish actor, now standing before them as the Almighty.

“So the old God assured me. Before he retired ... with a large part of the populations of some cities as part of his ... retirement package, colonists in his new colony on another world. Jesus did the same thing for his retirement, having traded off the supremacy with his father several times in the past ... both being tired of it. Hell, even Satan retired and closed Hell down, kicked out all of the demons and tormented souls. Which is why Tozroman is a free agent and able to serve under the Prophet these days. A lot better gig than torturing people, I imagine,” God added.

“Yes, Lord, even if ... well, I was created as a demon, so it was literally the only life that I knew until recently,” Tozroman declared now, “yes, I was literally created as a full-grown demon, no childhood ... no past as a fallen angel, either. I was an unemployed demon until recruited by them ... by the Prophet. Yes, I was created in Hell. That was my ... native country, if you will. Hell, that is. It’s closed down, out of business now.”

“So, you’re not actually a fallen angel?” Pastor Gail Jenkins of the local Methodist Church asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“No, I am not. I was created as a demon, but I’ve chosen to follow a different path,” Tozroman replied, his deep voice resonating through the room, “the original demons were fallen angels, but there weren’t enough of them to go around, so my old Master, Satan, made a lot more to do the work.”

The Council members looked at each other, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. It was clear that nothing in their lives had prepared them for this. The Mayor cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

“So, we can’t really trust the Bible ... not to be inerrant, then?” Father Mike of the local Catholic Church expressed shock.

“It contains plenty of truth, but it’s written by men ... so is capable of error, I’m afraid. I know, a bit of a shock when it really sinks in ... but I’ve had it repeatedly shown to me that I was brought up wrong. Not that Mom or Dad were fundamentalists, of course, being a lavender couple, but they were Episcopalians, anyway,” David continued, “that doesn’t mean that it lacks value. Plenty of wisdom in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, for instance.”

God, or Richard Harris, nodded solemnly, “The wisdom of the ancients is still relevant. The important part is that you live by the principles of love, charity, and kindness. That’s what I want from you, not to argue over which book is correct, but to live correctly. That sometimes means kicking a bully before he can kick you down, too. Self-defense is necessary as well, I’m afraid. I would do you a disservice if I preached absolute pacifism, as would my Prophets.”

The Council members exchanged glances, trying to process the divine revelation before them. The room was thick with tension, a mix of awe and skepticism. One person in the audience had enough and hurled a knife at God, who simply disintegrated the knife before it got anywhere close. The man immediately shat his pants in terror and ran out of the building.

“Now, let’s not do that again. It’s a bit ... disrespectful,” God said mildly, his eyes twinkling with a touch of humor. “But you see, I’m not just a myth or a figurehead. I’m real, and I’m here to help guide you through this new world. Mostly through my Prophets, such as this one here. He’s a good man, David, and his companions are awesome folks, too.”

The Council members looked at each other, the room buzzing with whispers. Some of the townsfolk had started to cry, others had begun to pray, and still, others looked as if they were contemplating the possibility of their worldview being shattered.

“What about evolution? Did it happen?” Charlotte asked now, braver than most.

“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you, but yes it did ... and I like that cheekiness about you, I might add,” God smiled, just before he vanished into thin air.

The Council was left sitting in stunned silence, staring at the empty space where God had just been. The Mayor was the first to speak, “Well, I suppose we have our answer about the legitimacy of your claim, Prophet Howard.”