Chapter 88

1235 hours, local time,
Monday, 14 July, 2014
Persen Residence,
Peterstown, West Virginia

Breakfast had been a splendid affair, of course, and we had spent the time since then eagerly discovering the town. We visited many of the shops and houses in the area, took some pictures of the sights, conversed with plenty of the locals before and after the meal. I naturally flirted with the ladies and even some gents, but then I had already bedded any of them of childbearing age. We established a rapport with most folks, even if a handful of people scowled at us, especially once they learned what had happened since we rolled into Peterstown.

“Don’t worry about Mabel Canton and her family. They ... well, they tend to disapprove of a lot of things, including black people. They sucked up to Big Joe Harmon a lot, though. Jeremy Canton is supposed to be an ordained Baptist minister, but he has mostly preached how we shouldn’t resist the Harmon gang. What’s he gonna say now, especially with the angels smiting said gang?

“The Cantons and their cousins, Haywells, are just ... well, they’re several slices short of a banana cream pie. Most people have quit their church, which was the only congregation left in town, I might add. He takes his orders from his mother, and she takes them, or took them, from the Harmons,” Rhoda Lee pointed out a glowering, matronly woman who looked to be seventy staring daggers at us.

“Get those niggers out of town! They don’t have any business here! The rest of you darkies can go, too! God is the father of the white man, but the black man is of Satan, cursed with the curse of Cain and Ham!” Jeremy railed at us, making it clear that his homiletic skills were ... deficient.

That was putting it mildly, of course. Now that the Harmons, the biggest gang around and the one that couldn’t be driven off like others, were slaughtered, no one feared the Cantons or thought much of them anymore. I smiled at them, even as I made sure to kiss each of my wives, starting with my darkest, Charity. It wasn’t a chaste peck on the cheek or even lips. It was a full-on, passionate, tongue-tangling French kiss, meant to cause maximum offense to that stupid clan of ignorant local fools. Charity, Becca, Kelly, and Kylie were tickled pink, as were Sardha, Raquel, and others.

“Don’t knock it, man, until you try it. Brown sugar is very sweet. I think that you’ll love it!” I chuckled, even as Jeremy angrily charged at me, a few other men at his side, all of them Cantons and Haywells.

They were the only people left in his congregation, as it turned out. They foolishly attacked me with their fists, not bothering to pay attention to the situation around them. I decked Jeremy Canton myself, but he also got punched in the gut by Charity, and then by Xia Delan, much to my shock. Hannah and Autumn got some jabs in, followed by Becca, Sardha, Kelly, and Kylie. His buddies were all beaten to a pulp by the guys around me as well, not to mention the ladies. That part must have really shocked him, to get his ass kicked partly by women and girls as well as men and boys. It was definitely a fistfight, but a very intense one. At least it was one until Ariel appeared and slaughtered every last one of the Cantons and Haywells, including Mabel Canton herself. Two families were wiped out to a man, in mere seconds, by an angel sent by a God furious that people had attacked his Prophet in such a petty fashion.

We all backed away as Ariel slew the Cantons and Haywells with his blazing sword, leaving a heap of ashes upon the street that blew away in the hot summer wind. So the only “preacher” in town who might compete with Trevor and his missionary work was gone, his last congregants slaughtered with him. There would be no competition for hearts and souls now. The town would soon become an outpost of the new way of life, the new religion, the new society in this apparently lawless native state of mine. That was an excellent start.

“Show me this ... church of theirs. I think that it’s time for a wedding, and then we can have some lunch for the reception. What do you say? That building could use a new owner and a new purpose, after all, starting with this missionary friend of ours, my co-husband, Trevor. We should formally lay hands upon him, of course, and commission him to that role. Then we should hold a wedding for him and his new wife or wives, whichever it is. Everyone of age in town appears to have Schumacher Syndrome now and be into each other,” I announced, being eager to get the town into high gear as a cog in the machine of the new society and civilization that must emerge.

“That sounds splendid. I hope to remain legally married to you, all of you, by the way, and be Reverend Trevor Clarke. It just sounds nice, very British in fact, and I naturally hope that you get to visit again someday. What shall we call this ... this ‘Church of the New Dawn?’ Something similar to that, anyway. Anyway, if you can stay married to the folks in Roanoke, despite the distance, you can also stay married to me. In fact, if you wish and she wishes it, any wife of mine can also be one of yours. As in ... getting hitched here and now,” Trevor proposed, causing several ladies to blush.

“Well, I want to be his first wife ... well, first wife here, anyway. I told you, I’m madly in love with Trevor. He’s my guy, my soulmate, I think. I’ve fucked all of you ... and I love all of you, but I’m ‘in love’ with Trevor, if you catch my drift,” Bethany confessed now, blushing even more as a result.

“Well, I hope to catch more than your drift, but sure, I do,” I teased her, even as several more women lined up to become wives of the future minister.

He wasn’t exactly a Prophet, but he would be head of the congregation, a sort of missionary church planter type. The only difference was that he would preach the true religion, not the Christian dogmas that turned out to be false. Reverend Trevor Clarke would be a kind of bishop within the future church of the new faith and creed. As a true Prophet of God and of Heaven, I naturally would have the authority to confer upon him his mission and position. That was heady wine at times, I had to admit, being a Prophet and having people look to me, a man who hadn’t even finished college, for guidance and direction.

As we reached the church and walked inside, I instantly spotted things that would have to be changed. The baptistry could be left in place, along with the pulpit and the choir stand. Even so, the whole concept of an altar was something best left behind, along with the Christian flag, the Bible verses, the hymnals (though those could be studied for style), and images of Jesus. I imagined that Trevor would have his own ideas of what could replace them, but he need only learn from what Austin and I did in Roanoke (and Sarah and I did in Charlottesville), for instance. Presumably, there would be more mature services with ritual orgies and other sex acts. The altar might even be useful for that purpose, if nothing else.

“Have someone mind the little ones and keep them away from this, if nothing else. This first part is absolutely vital, but it must be done in the nude. Folks, I intend to baptize all of you that wish it in the name of the new King of Heaven, and of the true path laid out by His Prophets in this new era since Doomsday. This is a naked baptism, however, and it should be an ordinance of the new faith, the new church. This is necessary for you residents of this town, but only for those of age. Are you prepared to become our first congregation in West Virginia?” I inquired of the locals.

“Yes!” they surprised me by shouting in unison, clearly inspired by something ... or someone.

“We’ll watch the little ones, of course,” Sonali announced with a little wink at me.

“Who better as guardians than angels, right?” Trish smiled at us as she agreed with her colleague.

“Who indeed? Very well, then, once they vanish from our presence with the little ones, we can proceed with the naked baptisms,” I declared, and sure enough, the guardian angels took the little ones out of our presence, “will Sunny Kay Morton step forward, being the first of the people of this town to greet me?”

Sunny gladly presented herself, disrobing enthusiastically for this act. She knew that there would be no sexual congress involved in this, but that wasn’t the point. Naked baptism was a mystical act of communion with both the new God of Heaven and with the Nature that He ordained and preserved for us in the wake of Doomsday. It was an act of good faith and goodwill, of embracing the natural order of things, the nudity that was our birthright as creatures under this new, more benevolent Deity. It also reinforced another tenet of the faith, that the human body was beautiful and no cause for modesty or shame.

“Do you, Sunny Kay Morton, embrace the new, true faith and religion of the true God of Heaven, Richard Harris, He who once lived among us and brought joy to many as an actor, died as a legend, and was resurrected by the previous God, Jehovah, as His handpicked successor? Do you embrace the doctrines, precepts, and principles of the New Era of humanity and of human society, of civilization reborn from the ashes of the old order? Do you swear to uphold the teachings of naturism, free love, peace, brotherhood, goodwill, wisdom, knowledge, charity, benevolence, freedom, autonomy, and community?” I asked of my delightful young lover.

“I do so embrace and swear, by my faith in the new God, Richard Harris, King of Heaven,” Sunny boldly proclaimed to all as she descended beneath the water in the font.

“Then, by the power and authority revealed to me and vested in me as a true Prophet of God and of Heaven, as one born to woman of angelic seed, I baptize you in the name of said God, of Heaven, and of His faith and church. Arise, Sunny, a true disciple and congregant of said church, the church of the new dawn,” I instructed Sunny, who beamed with pride at being the first convert to be baptized in this church.

Auntie Lise quickly followed suit, and then Rhoda Lee, Janie Sue, Amos, Harley Jean and her parents, Bethany, and many others. Pretty soon, we had several folks shivering in the nude, but very proud, as they dried off from the baptismal waters. They had taken the plunge, literally as well as figuratively. They were reborn, as it were, brand new people, converts, disciples, and founders of the new church at least in Appalachia.

Once everyone was dressed again, I invited the others to rejoin us, as the rest of the services didn’t require any kind of exclusion of the youngsters. It was time to formally ordain one Trevor Clarke, who was eager to have me lay hands upon him in the presence of his congregation. I wondered what actual name would replace “First Baptist Church” on the sign, but it would be one ultimately of his choosing and that of his parishioners.

He wasn’t the only one pleased, as I chose to lay hands upon other worthy members of the congregation as “elders,” for lack of a better word. They would be lesser clergy or senior lay folks, or something like that. The distinctions between cleric and layman in this new religion wouldn’t be as stark or extreme as in other religions, except for the role of the Prophets. We Prophets were exalted to a level higher than mere mortals, because we weren’t mere mortals, being of half-angelic stock. That still took some getting used to at times, at least for me. If I had to guess, I wasn’t alone there.

Among those confirmed as elders were Bethany, Sunny, Auntie Lise, Amos, Rhoda Lee, Janie Sue, and Harley Jean. They would be equivalent to deacons or something like that in a Christian church, from what I recalled of attending such churches at times in my childhood. That I was now a key factor in the extreme reduction of Christianity’s sway over large parts of the country was something that gave me considerable pride, but I didn’t mind borrowing their tactics or organizational style as needed. For better or worse, there was a new religion gaining the hearts, minds, and souls of the people in this part of the former United States of America. It just happened to a branch of the same one headed by the Lawgiver in the West.

Then came the wedding, of course. Or weddings, as it turned out. Every woman of childbearing age in town wanted to be married to me and to my harem, as well as to Trevor, so he ended up the most married man in the community. The elderly men and women seemed to be content to leave us alone, even the ones who had been intimate with Sunny and Auntie Lise in the past. Evidently, the idea of Schumacher Syndrome scared them a little. They preferred to die off peacefully and leave the future to the young and middle-aged folks in town. They would partook of some services and rites, but otherwise intended to act as nannies to the little ones and retire in more ways than one.