WL_44

WACO’S LUMMOX
Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 44

"If your leaders say to you, 'Look, the kingdom is in the sky,' then the birds of the sky will precede you. If they say to you, 'It is in the sea,' then the fish will precede you. Rather, the kingdom is within you, and it is outside you." ~ Words attributed to Christ from the Gospel According To Thomas

As Lazarus warned, things did begin to get worse. There was a buildup of talk in the mainstream medium, which was little more than a propaganda machine for the theocratic regime, the Holy Prophet was considering a new RFID chip which would allow every red-blooded American patriot to be known to the government and make it easier for them to protect.* Of course, in the government’s news release, they didn’t include information about how the chip would make it convenient and necessary for the Christo-fascist regime to keep tabs on every citizen. Whether you were for it or against it made little difference, it was mandatory for every citizen and no one could buy or sell anything without the chip. The mandatory implantation of the chips took much longer than originally planned.

There was great resistance against the chip from unexpected corners of society. The public wasn’t as naive as the government hoped. The pseudo-Christianists held firm to their faith, but they wanted to be free to believe and not have a chip implanted in their heads telling them they must believe. Religious woo is best served up tepid, quickly warmed by the imaginary fires of Hell by a loud obnoxious fat-ass bastard pounding his bible to assure the unwashed masses his words of eternal damnation for their sins are from God's very mouth set down into holy writ. He makes it even more palpable by telling them God spoke personally to him to confirm his sociopathic revelations. Governments always have the tendency to overestimate the stupidity or underestimate the intelligence and sophistication of their people. The mix has to be just so. Oil and water rarely mix. A little too much nitric acid in the glycerin makes a very unstable compound.

By the time the idea of the RFID chips came around, there were enough progressive underground blog sites the information was there for the people to read and explore, and the majority of the population was on the net or had access to it in some way. They quickly learned the chip had other subversive possibilities and clandestine benefits for the government, but the main thorn in the people’s flesh was they were not allowed to buy or sell anything without one. It smacked of Revelations and the prophecy of the anti-Christ.

With Scudder's miraculous resurrection from a fatal gun shot wound to the head and the possibility of receiving the mark of the beast, it was too much for the ignorant who considered themselves washed in the blood. Those on the left didn't want the chip because it was seen as the end of free thought. To make matters worse, the left, or godless liberals as they came to be known, finally got their act together and played it up big-time to the far right that they would be accepting the brand of the Devil and would spend an eternity burning in a lake of fire if they submitted. No one on the left believed a word of it, but it got the rebellion they were hoping for; however, it went much further than anticipated.

Those who weren't so sophisticated were scared to death they would spend an eternity basting in the ovens of Hell if they accepted the chip. The uber-conservatives went bananas, formed protest rallies and staged huge demonstrations that made the tea-parties of the late zeros mild by comparison. There were riots in the streets and many of the faithful were gunned down in cold blood because they absolutely refused to have the Devil's mark upon them. Their marching cry was a quote from the brave words of Patrick Henry: "I know not what course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty or give me death!" Like the ultimate Armageddon that was soon to come, for which, they so fervently prayed, they got their wish. They were slaughtered by the thousands by the hired guns of the private mercenary army of the corporate elite owned by one of the fundigelical's own sons: Eric Prince of Blackwater.

The tenets of compassion and the ten commandments so touted by pseudo-christianist didn't seem to apply to the wealthy. In a theocracy some are more equal than others. The Internet was full of pictures of men, women, and children shot down and murdered in the streets; bodies piled upon bodies; human blood ankle deep running off into the storm gutters. Once the animals with big guns and small minds were unleashed, hundreds of thousands were massacred before they could get a muzzle on the beast. The world watched in utter disbelief. They were horrified. With threats from other governments to invade and declare martial law, the theocratic government backed off; at least, for a while. Scudder cleverly passed all blame off onto Prince and his minions. They were rounded up and sent to Cheney camps without a trial to appease his faithful followers that it was us against them nasty Neo-Nazi types; however, for all their threats and scare tactics the government ran into a block wall. The more the public resisted the more the government insisted.

When a river runs into a mountain, it goes around it. The Scudder regime didn’t take bartering into consideration, and there sprang up a huge network for the exchange of goods and services. The more the government tried to squash it, the further underground the public went. Rural folks were the last to become pressured to accept the chip. Scudder and his men decided they were the most devoted to him and his cause even if they were the primary beneficiaries of the barter trade. They were beginning to see more money coming their way because of supply and demand. They were able to get better prices for their produce. The public bought directly from the farmers and ranchers and felt good about it. They liked the idea the folks who produced the products they were buying were getting the money and they felt they were getting a better quality product. They didn't have to worry about unscrupulous corporate interests passing off tainted meats or unhealthy genetically modified produce on them or settle for feedlot beef fed massive doses of antibiotics and steroids. The farmers and ranchers stood behind their products.

Bartering and direct payment to the producers slowly did away with the corporate middlemen who, for many years, regulated prices and dictated what they would pay; always to their benefit. Farmers and ranchers were screwed for years by fat-cat corporations. Now they only had to set their prices to be a bit lower or equal to what the public was paying the big corporations. They were raking in the profits. Small farmers became larger farmers and producers overnight. The large food corporations were the first to fall in the economic cut backs during the Scudder regime. Since Scudder himself and his adviser came from rural, agricultural communities, they had a great deal of sympathy for the country folks and allowed it to happen. There was a period of calm after the first wave of chips were implanted, but Scudder foresaw if he pushed it further without a cool down period, he might lose the whole thing. Rural folks still had their guns, and he was afraid of a public uprising. Only this time they would be joined by the city and more urban folks who depended on the rural folks for their food.

* * * * * * *
Since the incident when one of the Temple Guards actually killed the Holy Prophet and Scudder miraculously arose from the dead to regain his position, there was a great split among the faithful. Many considered it a definite sign Jeremiah Scudder was the prophesied anti-Christ and there were attempts to form strong opposition against him; however, he and his minions worked just as hard through propaganda to counterattack those arguments. They weren’t always successful. What was puzzling to most folks was the secrecy and lack of credible evidence about how and why his miraculous recovery was brought about. The people found themselves questioning why this should be any different from any of the other audacious lies and contrary information the neo-cons pumped out since the Reagan and Bush regimes.

Even though they saw vivid, horribly graphic videos of Scudder’s brains blowing out the side of his head, many were too jaded by Hollywood and CGI effects to buy into it. On the other hand, they had no problem worshiping a carpenter who lived over two thousand years ago, ostensibly died for their sins who was born of a virgin, who just happened to be of the linage and house of David, was crucified, died, was buried and later arose from the dead. That wasn’t too much of a stretch for them at all. It's strange, if a man is delusional they say he's insane. If a group becomes delusional they call it religion. They never took into consideration there was an earlier Persian holy man by the name of Mithra of whom it was written had the exact same life, from virgin birth, crucifixion and resurrection, and for whom there are ample historical records. There never were any verifiable historical records for the life of Christ.

The conversion of Constantine was highly overrated and was little more than an orchestrated, pumped up, over-hyped political move. Sound familiar? First and foremost, Constantine was a political animal. He wanted to bring the warring factions of the splintered religious groups under one umbrella, into one encompassing faith. He called together the big dogs of the various holy orders to a meeting in Nicaea to see if they could iron out their differences. In order to gain a consensus of religious thought, the Council of Nicaea under Constantine invented a holy man composed of the legends of Mithra, combined with the names of the English Druid deity Hesus and the Hindu god Krishna.

To involve British factions, he ruled that the name of the great Druid god, Hesus, be joined with the Eastern saviour-god, Krishna (Krishna is Sanskrit for Christ), and thus Hesus Krishna would be the official name of the new Roman god. A vote was taken and it was with a majority show of hands (161 votes to 157) that both divinities became one God. Following longstanding heathen custom, Constantine used the official gathering and the Roman apotheosis decree to legally deify two deities as one, and did so by democratic consent. It was extended a bit further in the Second Council to include the life of Mithra. Thus, a new god was proclaimed and "officially" ratified by Constantine (Acta Concilii Nicaeni, circa 325.) Most scholars place the writing of the four gospels at circa 300 A. D. Coincidence?

The purely political act of deification effectively and legally placed Hesus, Krishna, and Mithra among the Roman gods as one individual composite. It doesn't take a genius to equate three into one deity forms a Holy Trinity becoming one God. Thus, simple abstraction lent Earthly existence to amalgamated doctrines for the Empire's new religion; and because there was no letter "J" in alphabets until around the ninth century, the name subsequently transmogrified into "Jesus Christ." It was a long way from the Council of Nicaea to Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, but they’re similar in the reflections of corrupt power using and manipulating religion for its own particularly perverted, demented, and considerably less than charitable purposes.

Perhaps the hard core fundamentalist Christianists were most astonished because the incident between Scudder and Armstrong was far more spectacular, but it was too close to home. There were too many unanswered questions. Even though they rationalized the secrecy and the spin of information had always been a prime element of a fascist regime, it was still difficult for them to understand. Nothing made sense. There were rumors the temple guard who allegedly killed Scudder was taken before a firing squad without a trial, only to be rescued at the last minute by the same Angels who brought the Holy Prophet back to life. But why? The pieces didn’t fit together. If the stories were true, why would Angels rescue the Holy Prophet’s killer?

If Scudder was truly God’s Holy Prophet, wouldn’t God’s Angels condemn such violence and allow the would-be assassin to be punished? What about the concepts the fundamentalists, the American Talibangelicals, held so dear their understanding of an eye-for-an-eye, a tooth for a tooth, and every family should own at least one cocksucker for a slave? Surely there must be no truth to these rumors, or was there? Was there more to the story they weren’t being told? There was enough doubt to cause the implementation of Scudder’s plan to take longer than anyone imagined. Things were even more tenuous among the temple guards and the Holy City Police department.

The military police, whom Scudder ordered to conduct the execution of Brick Armstrong, were equally divided about Scudder’s purpose and divinity. They were personal eye witnesses to their brother officer being saved from sure death by two radiant beings who proceeded to punish their religious leader by removing his male parts and replacing them with female parts. Added to their feelings of inadequacy was their frustration because they weren’t allowed to intervene and were helpless to do anything about it. Their guns were rendered useless, and even though Scudder ordered them to take action, they instinctively knew better than to use physical force. They didn’t want their own male tackle mysteriously removed or replaced. After all, it’s where the major thought processes for most men of their ilk originate.

They saw it as an act of biblical proportions in which the symbolism was clear. By negating their weapons, an extension of their penises or masculine power, the Angel metaphorically cut off their balls thereby neutering them and rendering them impotent. A large percentage interpreted the Angel’s actions as in favor of Officer Armstrong and disapproval of the Holy Prophet. But why would the Angels intercede in Armstrong's execution if he did, indeed, attempt to assassinate their leader? Was there something missing they didn't know about? The equation didn't balance. Most agreed something was very wrong, and thought it had to do with Tim Kelly; however, the boy was never found.

There were heated debates within the ranks of all society about Jeremiah Scudder’s place in history; if he was or was not the Anti-Christ as prophesied in the new Testament? There was enough discontentment and unanswered questions in the minds of some temple guards and military police, they were easily swayed to cooperate with the underground opposition. What better persuasion than to have Brick Armstrong and his mate, Tim Kelly, appear before them to explain what Scudder and Taycious did to Tim which so enraged Brick to take action. Brick and Tim were able to provide videos of the highlights, including the operation to repair Timmy. For many of the men it sickened them, and only confirmed their long held suspicions about their not-so-Holy Prophet and his sidekick. Del Hawkins and his partner Sven Olefson were two who began to see the light.

The neo-cons weren’t the only ones who could play the spin game. Lazarus and Jesse, with the help of the Buttercup’s artificial intelligence, had Brick and Tim dressed in long, flowing, white robes with special lighting effects to produce an aura of other-worldliness about them as they appeared to the men in holographic form. On such occasions they could see and interrelate with Officer Armstrong and his partner Tim, but they couldn’t touch them. They appeared changed. They were radiant like they might imagine angels to be. Brick was working out more regularly to improve his body to its maximum potential and was coaching Tim to develop his body.

They worked out together and encouraged anyone who might want to learn, to take advantage of their coaching. Many did, from freemen to slaves and even a couple of critters joined them. They were bronzed from the West Texas sun and looked fit and relaxed. They were living their dream and found their own bliss with their roles within a new, unusual but sane, more gentle society. They were in love, happy and content with each other, and it showed. Lazarus and Jesse coached Brick and Tim to speak slowly and softly like they passed over into another dimension. It was effective and many of the men in protection and law enforcement were convinced they were witnessing spiritual rather than technical apparitions. A few were more skeptical.

* * * * * * *
Many questions arose within the Grange communities who knew of Lazarus and his mission. They knew of the close bond and alliance which was formed between Jesse Watkins and the Grange. Lazarus was questioned many times about who Jesse Watkins was and what he was all about. Lazarus insisted all would be revealed before much longer, but he would leave all explanations to Jesse. He would explain what he knew and what was going on with the government, and particularly with the so called Holy Prophet and his political adviser. Since their arrival, Jesse and Utah never ventured far from their association with the Grange, the Goodnight ranches or the small town of Parsons on the Bandersnatch, where they were frequently found in the company of Lyle Chambers, Strom, Blue, and his Shushonni friends, Dr. Stevens, Arnie, or at the Lazy B ranch with Jack Hall, Buck, and Warren. Because of their powers, Jesse and Utah were sought after to heal or give someone advice. They were generous with their time and gifts, but among the laid-back folks living in the on-board communities, they could relax and be themselves. They wandered the Earth for centuries together and never found a place they could call home. Parsons became that place for them.

* * * * * * *
Jeremiah Scudder slowly began to learn to use the extra powers he was inadvertently given by Jesse when he and Utah resurrected him. He discovered he had limited seeing capabilities to foretell the future in varying degrees, but it had its limits. He could only see into the future a day or two at a time, but he could predict the outcome of people’s actions. He found he had a much higher developed sense of organization. He could plan his future, the future of the country and even the fate of the world within a year’s period. He somehow understood he was given the ability to become the first man to become ruler of the world and unite everyone under one religion and government. The thought of such absolute power became a heady intoxicant for him.

The big corporations who ruined a great democracy by putting Bush and then Scudder into power found themselves being threatened by the monster their wealth created. They failed to heed the wisdom of history. The same thing occurred in Germany in the early thirties. With his new powers, Scudder saw he didn’t need them as much as they needed him. He sat them down and quietly, but boldly, told them he was now in charge. He was not only the new leader of the U.S., he would be the new leader of the world, and as an added bonus, he would also be their new undisputed spiritual leader. They would bow down and worship him.

Scudder insisted it was only right, since God declared him as divine as Jesus by resurrecting him. In fact, God told him he was the new embodiment of Christ who had returned to save the world. God told him he would rule for a thousand years. Those who got on board with his program would survive; those who did not, would perish. Religious lunacy was fine for the unwashed masses. It keep them stupid and under control, but for the big money corporations who spent so much and worked so hard to manipulate a once free democracy into a corporate fascist theocracy it spelled doom; unless, they could rid themselves of Scudder, but it was too late. Their cute little sock-puppet monster had grown into a huge, voracious, uncontrollable beast.

He made himself CEO of all major corporations and utilities including oil companies. If they wanted to continue to operate and live in the luxury unto which they were accustomed, they would play ball and give him everything he wanted; if they tried to oppose him, they would be eradicated and all their wealth would become property of the state. Scudder made it clear, they would still be allowed to run their corporations, but his people would move into their businesses and monitor them closely. There would no longer be such huge disparities between salaries of the working class and the executive class.

With Austin Taycious’ input, Jerry Scudder saw that he had to start pumping up the middle-class who were asked to take a back seat in the bus for too long. He had to make it easier to keep them from rising up in total rebellion. Austin was right. The way to keep the middle-class happy was to eliminate any worry for them to have a home, a big SUV, a pickup truck, a fine entertainment system, free education for their kids, public health care, their mega-churches and cheap beer. Previous large private health care companies, from their presidents to lobbyist were rounded up and lived their final few years in Cheney work camps. Within the confines of the camps they couldn't get health care of any kind for themselves.

In Bush’s criminal regime, salaries, bonuses, and benefits to executive CEO’s rose five to six hundred percent more than the average worker. Under Scudder, those excesses would be split between salaries and benefits for the worker and tithes to the government, but the executives would still be compensated comfortably for their work. They were told they should look upon their contributions as tithes to help their fellow man, God, and his new son for his great work. Scudder made quick work in canceling all the lavish and obscene tax cuts his predecessor gave the rich. Naturally, they went along. They had no choice and furthermore they got a chip implanted along with all the rest. There were few exemptions. Only the Holy Prophet, Austin Taycious, and their staff would not have chips.

For all his flamboyance, verbal guff and being a constant pain in the ass, Jeremiah Scudder needed Austin Taycious. No matter how far afield Jerry Scudder chose to indulge himself within his own personal fantasy world, Austin Taycious was always there to bring him down to Earth. To Austin’s credit he came up with a progressive plan to equalize the nation and the world. Austin was a much more creative thinker than his friend and protector. He foresaw Scudder’s chance to go down in history as the great redeemer of the Earth; something, not even Jesus could rightfully claim until the final cards were dealt. Jesus of the bible only taught and made vacuous promises which, for over two-thousand years, never seemed to materialize. To some it seemed ludicrous. Even the author or authors of the gospels thought Christ would return in their lifetimes. How long should any society hold on to a dream that never seems to materialize? Answer: Until one generation has the intelligence and courage of heart to stand up and say 'no' to the insanity of religion.

Austin appealed to Scudder’s vanity. “Look, Mein Kumquat, you have an opportunity no other man in history has had. You have a chance to unite the world under one religion and become a great and benevolent leader. You can do away with the problems of illegal immigration the corporations fostered on you and Bush. You can seize all the oil in the world, but you can go further than that. You can bring to the public the knowledge of zero-point energy. It’s been around for close to a hundred years since we learned about it from back engineering alien space craft in the fifties. Look how much we learned from them; lasers; integrated circuits; fiber optics; anti-gravity; zero-point power modules; spandex and Velcro; just to name a few.

"The only way you’re going to have a thousand years of peace is to do away with all religions except the one you want folks to follow. Think it can’t be done? Think again, Buckwheat. What do you think the early fathers of the Christian church did when they were forming their new religion? The Roman Catholic Church claimed everything that threatened their dogma was heretical and were swift to squash any dissent. They had almost two thousand years of bloody murdering and savage torture against anyone who dissented or preached a better way.

They wiped out the true meaning of Christ’s message which many felt was more adequately expressed by the Gnostics and the Cathars. The Cathars were the only group who actually tried to live their lives in a Christ-like manner. They renounced all material possessions and went about healing and comforting the poor, the infirm, and those about to die. They became as family to their believers. They were slaughtered by the Catholic church for trying to live their lives as close to the teachings of Christ as possible. Why? Because they became an embarrassment to the Catholic church, its power, obscene wealth, and perverted Popes. Religion, for all it's high and mighty pomposity, became a profitable business.

"The early church continued its reign of terror until Luther refused to indulge himself and went on his diet of worms to protest," Austin was not always fully well-read on certain topics as he might have been. Since Scudder was less well-read than Taycious, Austin bluffed his way through and continued without pause, "It’s time the parasitic practices and dogma of the Roman Catholic Church be excised from society. The billions being contributed to them every day would best be kept in the pockets of the poor to feed and sustain them than the vulgar opulence and greed of the church.

"Invade the Vatican and do away with all the early Roman church records. That way, there’s nothing to fall back on to dispute your word. Claim your investigations into the suppression of important Christian documents by the early church were found and there was a totally new Gospel found among them which contradicts the main four from which one can only surmise, at least three of them were forgeries or copied from the original; set down, not by early apostles of the church, but by the founders of the early Roman church under Constantine.

"Do away with the writings of Paul as apocryphal. Condemn his condemnation of homosexuals. He was a zealot Jew for Christ sake. He was originally a Greek, Apolonius, who was a convert to orthodox Judaism. Recovering addicts and religious converts are the absolute worst fanatics. Then he suffered a miraculous conversion to Christianity and became fanatical about his new religion. A double convert doesn’t say much for his stability let alone his teachings. With two strikes against him, he spouted as gospel what he learned from the old testament without much thought as to how it might effect the new religion he was creating, which wasn’t Christianity at all. He made it up as he went along. It became known by scholars as Paulism. Many of the early church fathers were strongly against including the letters and teachings of Paul. They considered him a provocateur. He was known as Paul the heretic.

"Jerry, you can rewrite the new testament incorporating the best things from all religions of the world. Do away with the insanity of the Koran and the old testament of the bible. The Muslims and Jews will go crazy for a while, but within two generations they will come to accept the New Testament. Them common folks gotta' have something to believe in bigger than their miserable little lives. It's in their blood. Let’s write a newer Testament. History is ripe for it. You have the power to do it, Jerry. Once you’re undisputed ruler of the world you can do or say anything, and it will become law.

"And for God's sake, expose them damnable Mormons for the fraudulent insanity they preach. It's been proven Joseph Smith, who was a convicted criminal, founded a religion based on a science fiction novel he plagiarized from another author. The entire religion was launched on the idea if you repeat a lie long enough and enough times, sooner or later some fools will believe you. Sounds very much like the old Republican party spin, don't it? Mormons always made the best conservative Republicans. If they could be made to believe the hogwash of Joseph Smith they would believe anything the Republicans dished out," Taycious said and laughed.

He continued, "Whether it's true or not, how Christians could ever continue to follow the old testament after the message of Christ is beyond me. The two are simply incompatible. It’s like the message from two different deities. If the unintelligent masses just have to have something to believe in to make them happy and keep them in their place, make religion better than it was. Do what Constantine did with the Council of Nicaea. Hell fire and damnation! If Constantine and Joseph Smith can get away with it, I know you can. Make up your own god and savior to worship, only do it better. Do it right this time.

"Give the poor and uneducated a bigger and better pile of bones to gnaw on. Distract them from the evil of pressing their religious beliefs on gays and pregnant women or those who don’t chose to believe anything. Make room for everybody. Do away with prejudice and injustice found throughout the bible. Don’t give anyone ammunition to hate anybody. Don’t worry about them becoming wise and doing away with your power. As long as the government tells them they’re good and patriotic you can get away with anything, and they won’t care. They’ll be too damn busy thanking you, praising the lord, and singing hymns you approve.

"Since early times, you’re the first man to have it within your power to change the world for the better, Jerry. Since you are to be seen as the great leveler in society, don’t allow slavery other than for punishment of major crimes. If someone becomes a slave for a period of time, let it be for the period of time specified and not allow some unscrupulous master to trump up charges against him to extend his period of servitude. Cut back on destroying the rain-forest and get folks interested in preserving the nature and wildlife of the Earth. Stop the Japanese and Taiwanese from insisting on decimating the whale populations by false scientific studies which are only a ruse for killing and selling. There is no necessity for whale meat or byproducts in today’s world. They’re at the top of the food chain and as their numbers diminish so does the strength of the ecosystem. Come down hard on countries who refuse to cooperate until they cease altogether. Rebuild the natural resources of our planet. Get countries united in eco-building and conservation. Make the deserts bloom and rebuild the rain-forests. You can create limitless numbers of jobs that way.

"Take care of the starving and homeless. Provide decent health care for all citizens. Make it such that there is a rising middle class in third world countries and not such a disparaging financial separation between classes. The obscene wealth of the corporate class must come to an end. It’s either that or the poor will eventually rise up and crush them. Anarchy will reign. Become the second coming of Christ, Jerry, not only in name but in deeds and actions. Show the world you have an equal side of strength and mercy. I’ll bet if you did, you could call on that Angel to return your manhood. Clean up your act, show him you're making an effort to bring sanity back to this country, and I'm sure he'll take pity on you.

"How much money do you want, Jerry? How much do you really need? Is there a point a man reaches when he decides he has enough, he’s comfortable, and lets someone else suck from the money-teat for a while? We’ve become an overpopulated world, Jerry. It’s inconceivable good Christian folks would allow the killing in our corporate trumped-up wars and the genocidal wars going on in Africa and South America to continue with little interest and insist unborn children need their protection. That’s just wrong. It’s blatant hypocrisy. They don’t have the right to impose their religious beliefs on anyone, either through coercion or legislation. Let them proselytize all they want. That, of course, won’t include you. If you be the man, you call the shots. Besides, there has to be a limit to population growth somewhere. If the far right doesn’t want abortions then they shouldn’t have one, but leave others alone to make their own choices. It’s none of their damn business what another person chooses to do in any situation. It’s insanity for them to think they should have the right to legislate and force their beliefs on everyone in a society that prides itself on being free. The far right is no better than the Muslim Taliban.

"Our resources and the world itself can’t sustain much more population growth anyway. There has to come a time where population growth is greatly scaled back or we won’t make it into the next century. If you should live that long, you won’t have a world to rule. I believe in the world as a living organism. It’s an intelligence unto itself. The dinosaurs evolved and flourished because they had few natural predators. They became too large and too many. The carbon dioxide from their breathing, mega-farts, and body waste brought on another ice age which killed most of them. They became too much for the planet to support, and it killed them. So it will be with mankind. Mother Earth, Gaia, or whatever you choose to call it will simply begin to shut down until such time when that which is offensive to her will no longer be a threat. Then, after thousands of years, she will begin to recover and start again; only next time, it will be without man.” Austin went on and on and Jerry instructed him to write something up he could go by. Give him a blueprint or an outline of what he proposed.

“I don’t know how I could’ve ever been so stupid to believe all that religious crap," Scudder replied, and continued, "After preaching a pot-boiler sermon like I used to, I'd have to go in and shower for an hour to feel really clean. It was like I was slinging shit and getting it all over me. I used to think to myself as I was reaching a dramatic climax in my sermon, 'Are these fools really so stupid to believe this garbage.' But I would look out into the audience and never once saw a look of doubt on any face; except once. One little girl was sitting by herself on the front row. She was very prim and proper. She couldn't have been more than six years old. She had a wicked scowl on her face like she wasn't buying any of my nonsense, and as I made a call for prayer I heard her mutter under her breath, "He's so full of shit!" I was laughing so hard I couldn't get myself together to pray. I had to ask my associate pastor to lead us in prayer." Scudder and Taycious shared a laugh.

“Ah, come on, Jerry. What the Hell are you talking about? Fundamentalism was your ticket to power. It was you what came up with the slogan for the GOP of God's Own Party and changed the name Republicans to Rebiblicans. I've heard you preach if Jesus were alive he would definitely be a member of the party of God," Austin chastised him.

"Yeah, I know, but something happened to me that was outside my understanding of religion and my relationship with it. It was weird, because when I died my consciousness left my body, but I could see everything. It was like I was a conscious entity separate and outside my physical body, but I knew it was the core ‘me.’ I could see Brick Armstrong standing over me with the gun still smoking in his hand. He had a horrible look on his face, a look I can only describe as one of hate and loathing. I never saw such a look of hatred and pain on a man's face. I'll never forget it. He was like a demon. He even looked demonic. Then these creatures of darkness gathered around me. They seemed to be waiting just outside my field of vision. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I knew they were there. They wanted my soul. I knew they were waiting to take me away," Scudder said.

“Where?” Austin asked.

“I don’t know, but I got the feeling it wasn’t a good place. I didn’t see any bright light or tunnel to go through. There wasn’t anyone waiting for me to show me the way, just these dark creatures who sent shivers up my spine. Things began to get dark and I could see their red glowing eyes looking out at me through the void, and I could feel them moving about anxious to come for me. I yelled and hollered at them to go away to no avail; they just kept coming. They dragged me kicking and screaming to an even darker place; a place of great despair. It had a heaviness about it that I could feel and taste. It was an awful place. Everything was gray or black; there was no color at all. I looked around and saw we were on the banks of a deep dark river. We were waiting; for what, I don’t know.

"I just knew we were waiting for something. The dark creatures surrounded me and wouldn’t let me move. It was like they knew something I didn’t, and for the moment were content to just wait. I don’t remember how long we waited, but after a while there came a big barge out of the dark mist. It came from the opposite side of the river and was being rowed by more of them dark critters. At the bow was a large dark figure of a man dressed in a long black robe with a black hood pulled low over his head. I couldn’t see his features, but I knew he wasn’t human. I could see a greenish cast to his skin and his eyes had the same red glow as the smaller critters. When the barge landed, he didn’t move. He slowly raised his right arm and pointed a green-scaly bony finger at me and spoke," Scudder said.

“What’d he say, Jerry?” Austin asked in awe.

"'You have cheated death this time, but you won’t a second time. You are to be returned to the land of the living. Take him away!' he ordered the dark creatures. They took me back to a place I could be closer to my body. I saw myself lying on a cold metal mortician’s table. I couldn’t see how I was going to live with a huge chunk of my head and brains blown away. I heard voices and saw the mortician talking with two radiant beings. They were beautiful and made the dark creatures cower in fear of them. They looked like how you might imagine angels to appear. They told the mortician to stand back, they were going to put my head back together, and they would resurrect me. There was a huge flash of light, I felt myself being pulled back into my body, and suddenly, I was alive again. I hurt like Hell for a while. Ain’t never had my head hurt that bad. It was like the worst hangover you ever had, but it soon went away, and I was fine."

“Do you think the men who brought you back were angels, Jerry?” Taycious asked.

“Naw, they were humanoid creatures just like you’n me. The younger one didn’t seem to be comfortable in human form. I got the feeling he was another kind of creature only appearing as a human. He was different somehow but familiar. I know I met his kind before, but I couldn’t remember where. The older one was an old hand. He knew what he was doing, but he seemed to need something from the younger one, like he couldn’t do the job alone. The younger one gave him what he needed and together they brought me back to life.

"There weren’t nothing spiritual or holy about it. It was like an act of nature to them, like they could do that sort of thing because they had the knowledge and power. The dark creatures were real critters of some sort from another dimension. They might’ve been what we consider demonic, but they weren’t no Devils. They were humanoid as well. So was the dude on the barge wearing the black robe and hood. I think the two angels might be a superhuman race who have been dealing with humans for centuries; for what purpose, I can only guess.

"Needless to say, I was glad to be back among the living, but I got me a gut feeling we ain’t seen the last of them two men or them dark critters. The whole experience woke me up to what life and death is really about. There ain't a damn thing holy or sacred about it. Death is nothing more than a part and function of life. It's part of our biological nature. We're hard-wired to live for a certain period of time on this planet then die. Where our energy goes from there is the mysterious part, but it ain't unknowable. I'm learning more everyday about things. That man told me I'd find out I had some new abilities. I'm slowly beginning to understand what he meant," Scudder said quietly.

“Jerry, you’ve been through a lot. How are you adjusting to your new plumbing?” Austin asked sincerely.

“I hate to have to squat to piss, but I’m git’n used to it. Getting fucked is a totally new experience, but it feels a lot better’n I thought it would. Remember Dumbo Jones?” Scudder asked and laughed.

“Yeah, the dumbest man in the corps with them huge ears. You wanted to get rid of him, but he became somewhat of a mascot to the men. I hear he has one of the best singing voices in the corps. They banded together to request you to reconsider and keep him on," Austin recounted his knowledge of the man.

"Yeah, they did. Glad I listened to them. Dumbo has a huge member on him and an enormous set of balls. What he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in pure animal magnetism and lust. He will fuck anything with a hole that lies still long enough. He gives me the best fuckings I ever had. Larissa Mae Woolcott, that black maid we got working here swore to me the biggest dumbest men always give the best fucks. She claims it’s ‘cause they ain't gotta' lotta’ room up there for thinking about more’n one thing at a time and when they get their minds set, they can only focus on the job at hand. After several rounds with Dumbo, I gotta’ agree with her. He’s like a damn dynamo; a fucking machine. He don’t never slow down even after I shoot my load and tell him to get his. I’m thinking about taking him on as a consort. A June wedding might be nice,” Scudder roared with laughter. Austin cringed but laughed, too.

“Why not? If you got it – it feels good – do it! I’m sure Dumbo would be pleased,” Austin allowed.

“The best or worst part is, I’ve developed some affection for him. He ain’t so stupid. He’s just simple and childlike. I’ve grown as protective of him as the men of the Corps. He’s more loyal than an old hound-dog and very affectionate.”

“Wait a minute! I thought you were using Delbert Hawkins for your frolicking,” Austin declared.

“I have. I still do. I like old Del. I keep him and a couple more warming up in the bull pen at all times. I like a little variety now and then, but Dumbo Jones has become my favorite, my regular. I feel so comfortable with him and he treats me like...”

“A lady?” Austin roared with laughter. Scudder scowled at him and then laughed.

“Exactly!” he replied defiantly, “Ah, Hell! What the fuck! Even the most macho men need a little tenderness now and then.”

“Then, I take it Dumbo Jones won’t be a candidate for the Holy Order?" Austin asked.

“Not very damn likely,” Scudder sneered, “I’d weep buckets if he elected to get that handsome penis and balls of his removed. I won’t allow it. He serves the pleasure of the Holy Prophet for Christ’s sake. Sometimes it’s good to be da’ king,” Scudder laughed.

“The king?” Austin leered.

“Don’t push it, Gertrude!” Scudder glared at him then continued talking about Officer Jones, “I’ve made him cutback on his shots and pills. I've considered making a new rank for him and several others who have been faithful to me. Sort of a cream of the elite. I already done promoted Officer Hawkins to Commander,” Scudder paused for a moment, “You wanna’ see something amusing?” he asked with a wicked smile.

“Sure,” replied Austin. Scudder hit a button on his intercom and spoke to the voice that answered, “Send in Jones – au naturel.”

“Right away, your Holiness,” Ms. Martha Ann Auvenshine, his secretary, replied.

Within minutes a buffed bodybuilder, naked as the day he was born, was standing at attention before Scudder and Austin. “You’re looking good today, Officer Jones,” Jerry said to the the officer.

“Thank you, your Holiness, sir,” Jones replied with respect.

“Remember what I taught you?” Scudder asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jones answered crisply.

“I’m proud of you and I wanna’ show you off to my second in command, here, Mr. Taycious. You are not to be embarrassed or feel humiliated in any way; understand, Jones?" Scudder instructed him.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he replied.

Scudder snapped his fingers and Dumbo Jones’ male member sprang to a full salute immediately. Austin never saw a man’s penis get so aroused so quickly. Scudder chuckled. “Good, Jones, well done, Son!” Scudder complimented the big man with the large ears. “Go on, feel it,” Scudder motioned to Austin, “He won’t mind. He know’s his Holy Prophet is happy with him. You won’t believe it. It’s rock hard,” Scudder spoke of Jones like he was a beloved pet. Austin walked over to Officer Jones who was still at attention and felt his massive member.

“Unbelievable, and quite handsome, too. You’re a fine specimen of a man, Jones. I hear you’re also a fine officer and a great blessing to our Holy Prophet,” Austin smiled as he commented and gently felt the big man’s balls as well.

“Thank you, sir, I try hard to be,” Jones replied. Scudder turned away and coughed in his hand to keep from laughing. Austin couldn’t help himself and broke up giggling.

“And you do very well, I might add. I'm certainly impressed," Austin complimented the big man.

“You all right, Jones?” Scudder asked with concern.

“Yes, sir, your Holiness,” Jones replied.

“A little horny this afternoon?” Jerry asked.

“Always, for you, sir,” he said honestly.

“You won’t mind if Mr. Taycious pays a little homage to your fine manhood, will you, Son?” Scudder asked.

“Oh, no sir, your Holiness. Not at all. Whatever I can do for you,” Jones offered selflessly.

“That’s sweet of you, Officer Jones. I won’t forget your willingness to be so giving of yourself. Go on, Brother,” Scudder urged Taycious, “Chow down. Officer Jones is a little taste of heaven right here on Earth; an afternoon delight. He’s got the sweetest tasting load. Tastes a little like a vanilla custard tart," Scudder expounded with a grin.

“Mmmm, I love custard tarts,” Austin gushed as he fell to his knees to worship at Dumbo Jones’ holy shrine.

“Let him who giveth also receive. Blessed are the Ori,” Scudder said under his breath as he smiled to himself and turned to finish some work at his desk. It wasn’t long before he heard Austin choking down a huge load from Officer Jones. Jerry watched as the young man took on an ethereal glow with an unsurpassed look of ecstasy on his face. He lost all control of his salivary glands and spittle drooled out each corner of his mouth as the threw back his head and moaned deeply in his own private moment of passion.

* * * * * * *
Brett “Dumbo” Jones had several talents which more than compensated for his homely looks. He had a magnificent baritone voice, with which he could sing the angels to tears. Mere mortals, even those with tin ears, were known to have a case of the vapors upon hearing the sweetness of his voice. He never had any formal musical training, but was soon recognized around the Holy Temple to be one of their foremost vocal talents. He could be taught any song from plain chant to operatic arias in a matter of hours and had the uncanny ability to sing it perfectly each time he repeated it and never forgot a song he learned. He was one of the main voices in the morning and evening vespers the Temple Guards participated in every day. They performed their duties completely nude, and there was never an empty seat for their service.

* * * * * * *
That afternoon, after his visit with the Holy Prophet and his adviser, Officer Brett Jones was in particularly fine voice. Unfortunately, he was so inspired he couldn’t lose his erection. This caused much consternation among the other guards because they were not unlike pack animals. What happened to one influenced the rest. Several, especially those who were ordered to cut back on the steroids and shots, got sympathetic erections and they looked like a band of wooden soldiers. It wasn’t seen as a great problem because strange things like that happened all the time. It was great fun and cause for amusement among the audience, but the men acted like it was par for the course and part of their physical nature. They were right, but it certainly did make the audience more attentive during the service.

That particular afternoon something beyond the normal happened. Dumbo Jones was walking just in front of his Commander Delbert Hawkins. The men began singing the first several stanzas of their usual vesper’s plain chant introit before walking the length of the chapel to their seats in the choir. As they began their processional walk, they took no more than a handful of steps, when Officer Jones began to rise from the floor. Everyone continued singing, but those closest to him stopped to watch him rise up from the floor and slowly began to float over the heads of his fellow officers to the front of the altar. The congregation was in awe and Jones’ fellow officers were nonplussed, they simply didn’t know what to think.

To make matters worse, when he came to the altar, he slowly turned and rose even higher into the air until he was almost at the apex of the building. All this time he was still singing the plain chant introit and his fellow officers, unable to explain their actions, sang with even more enthusiasm. As he hung in midair a stunned silence came over the audience as he opened his arms in a gesture to embrace them all in the love he felt for them. He stretched his arms out fully, threw back his head in the ecstasy of his song and looked for all the world like the crucified Christ. His spirit seemed to radiate from his body and every person there, including his fellow officers felt his love for them penetrating their being like highly sharpened, finely-tuned, emotional swords. It was at once as healing as it was provocatively erotic almost to the point of orgasm. A few in the audience soiled their clothes. A couple of his brothers dropped their loads on the chapel floor. The other officers stopped and gathered in front of the alter and ceased their introit to the choir.

The singing stopped but Jones was still suspended in midair. Commander Hawkins stepped forward, raised his hands toward Jones and spoke in a commanding but gentle voice, “Come to me, my Son!” He stood with his arms outstretched waiting. Slowly, Jones began to descend until his commander grabbed him into his arms, pulled him tightly into a loving embraced, and held him as they both sobbed. It was a terribly moving moment to all who witnessed. The other officers placed their arms and hands upon the two men. Jones comforted his commander and the audience went crazy applauding. They didn’t know if this was part of a magic act or if it was for real, but they were impressed.

Delbert Hawkins got himself together. “Are you all right, Son?” he asked Jones quietly.

“I think so, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never done nothing like that before,” Jones apologized.

“Nonsense, Boy! What you did was a natural response to your faith, but we have a service to attend to. Will you be all right to continue?” he asked.

“I think so, sir,” Jones replied.

Officer Hawkins gave the order to proceed to the choir and the men filed into their appointed seats. The service went as planned. Officer Jones was to sing a solo as an offertory. There was a hush came over the chapel unlike any before. Every man, woman, child, and officer held their breath. No one had any idea what to expect. Officer Jones stood, the organ started and Jones began to sing. No more than eight bars into his song he started to rise off the floor again. Hawkins and another officer on his other side grabbed for him, but they were too late. Jones was airborne. With a full erection, he rose above the alter and was in full view of the audience and his fellow officers as he sang his song. He stretched out his arms, crossed his feet, and the audience gasped as they watched stigmatas form in Jones’ hands and on his feet.

A wound opened on his left side and blood gently flowed from the opening. The congregation and his fellow officers watched in awe and horror as the blood began to drip from his wounds to the floor of the chapel. Once again Jones radiated his love and the audience not only heard but felt his goodness and strength. Several claimed to be instantly healed by his song. He was amazing to behold. He was not a handsome man by any stretch of the imagination, but his body was perfection. One just didn’t look above the neck. When he was done, many in the audience and several of his brother officers fainted. Those still conscious stood in unison to applaud him and watched his wounds miraculously heal as he slowly lowered back to the choir. Hawkins and the other officer helped him to his seat. Hawkins patted him on his leg and complimented him on his solo.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t seem to be able to control it,” Jones was almost in tears.

“Enough, Boy! You done fine. Nothing to worry about. Impressed the shit out of me,” Hawkins confirmed and smiled at him. As the service progressed someone slipped Hawkins a golden rope that once held the Christian flag to its base. Hawkins smiled and nodded his understanding. He leaned over and attached the rope to Jones’ ankle. Jones knew what it was for and smiled at his commander. The service came to an end and the officers rose to begin their exit. They again began a plain chant as a postlude. The audience was prepared and only a few gasped as Officer Jones began to rise from the floor. This time his commander grabbed the golden rope and held on as Jones floated by above their heads. Delbert Hawkins could maneuver Jones to stay in the same approximate position as he would walk. Jones was floating overhead controlled by the golden rope like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. The audience approved and quietly applauded Hawkins as he walked by with his tethered brother in tow. Hawkins began to mischievously daydream, if, by some miracle of fate Jones was to become pontiff, would he affectionately become known as the beloved Pope on a rope.

Needless to say, Jones was an overnight sensation. He performed flawlessly at every service and numerous folks claimed to be healed by his singing and the radiant light which came from his body. Others came forward to dip their fingers in his blood from the floor of the altar and applied it to their infirm bodies. Many were instantly healed. The chapel was booked months in advance and there was standing room only at every service. The Holy Prophet and his associate witnessed Jones’ miracle many times. Austin was more convinced than ever this should be a sign for Jerry Scudder to understand the goodness that was available to him, and to convince him he had the power to change the world for the better.

Until Jones learned to control his gift, he had many problems. He was one of the designated cook’s helpers to keep the army of Holy Temple guards fed. He was more diligent in his duties than all his fellow helpers combined. His new-found talent became a detriment to him in his day to day chores. He would be kneading bread or doing some mundane chore and slowly he would begin to get an erection. At the same time he would begin to rise from the floor. Unless one of his fellow cooks or helpers were around to hold him down until his urge passed, he would be suspended at the ceiling until someone could fetch a ladder and get him down. They tried weights tied to his ankles but they would only rise with him into the air as if they contained no mass.

One might think such an unusual talent might corrupt a person. Perhaps it might a lesser man or even greater man, but Brett Jones was a simple man, a man of deep faith and convictions with little intellect to reason beyond the innate goodness of his own spirit and the belief in the divinity of his own soul. He was the culmination of the great myth which began with Adam. He was the first of many of a new generation who were beginning to shun the material world and become whole within themselves. Their greatest hope was, intellect and wisdom would come with experience and age. Living, loving, and giving to those less fortunate than themselves was the mainstay of this new generation. It became their Alpha and Omega, their beginning and their end, their reason for being.

Jones had many other doors to unlock and open he could only dream about. Belief systems and religion only acted like the mythical Dumbo’s feather. The little pachyderm with the big ears always had the ability to fly. He only needed the feather for a crutch for his natural, some might say, god-given talents. So it was with Jones and his ilk. They needed their faith to get off the ground. Once they were airborne, they quickly shed their superstitions and began to understand their place in the universe. Their place was far greater than ever dreamed in the philosophy of any religion. When man begins to believe in himself and his own innate goodness and begins to shun superstition, only then will he truly become closer to the personal god within himself.

* * * * * * *
“And what of this man who is the de facto consort of the Holy Prophet? What of his ability to levitate, produce stigmatas, and heal the sick with his songs? We’ve seen him on TV and what he does is pretty remarkable. Is he for real?” many of the Grange and several of the critters wanted to know. They asked these questions of Jesse Watkins, his faithful companion Utah, and Lazarus Long. Fortunately Chief Tin Penny was standing near with an amused look on his face. “Would you like to take that question, Chief?” Jesse smiled.

“Certainly, my Brother," the chief replied and continued, "Levitation ain’t nothing new. Every person here is capable of it. You have greater control over your surroundings than you are presently aware or capable of understanding. Birds fly because they know they can. Once they take to the air, there’s never any doubt. I’ve watched braves take to the air in the height of passion from their dance and return to their mother Earth without remembering the experience. When I tell them, they laugh at me as an old man imagining things and accuse me of planting false dreams in their heads. Then, one day, in the middle of their dance, they awaken in midair and fall to the ground with an even greater awakening. They don’t laugh any more,” grinned the old chief wickedly.

“We can do it! We can do it!” yelled Adam and Eve, the Evanescent children of Sonny and Vivian Steele.

“Show them, my children,” Chief Tin Penny encouraged as he took his drum and slowly started to beat out a slow hypnotic rhythm. He started singing a wonderful chant the children quickly picked up and started swaying to and fro. The chief was joined in his singing by several of his tribe including Little Bear. “Now do the bear dance I taught you. Remember?” the Chief urged the children.

“We remember, Grandfather,” they replied, smiled, and started dancing. As they danced, the folks of the Grange who were gathered watched in awe as the two children danced around in an ever widening circle and slowly began to leave the ground until they were dancing freely above their heads in the evening sunset. The crowd was in awe and few dared to breathe. Their other granddad Warren had a huge grin on his face as he waved to encourage them. “Come, Grandfather! Come dance with us,” they called to him. Warren looked at the old chief, and he nodded his approval. Warren shucked off his cowboy boots and began to dance the same steps as his adopted grandchildren. They reached down and each took one of his hands. Warren didn’t take more than a few steps when he began to rise with them. Still he continued his dance with his grandchildren. “See, granddad! See how much nicer it is up here,” they teased. Warren was smiling from ear to ear. Sonny and Vivian Steele were beside themselves. Jack Hall and Buck were laughing their asses off. Poor Horse didn’t know what to think. His mate was already showing from his pregnancy. He was concerned for his bairn as well as his mate.

“Can he do it on his own?” Sonny challenged his adopted kids.

“Of course he can, Dad. He’s our Grampa, ain'nee?” they laughed and let go of Warren’s hands. Warren didn’t stumble or sink an inch. He just put more into his dance and rose even higher into the air.

“How does that Disney song go, Honey?” Sonny turned to Vivian, “I done see'd about ever’ thing when I seen an elephant fly,” laughed Sonny.

Vivian poked him in the ribs. “Leave your dad alone, Cowboy. At least he’s got the nerve to try. Knowing you, it won’t be long before those two have you up there dancing off into the sunset with them,” she admonished him.

“Come on, Dad! Take our hand. We’ll teach you,” they begged Sonny.

“Not this time, Kids. Later when there ain’t so many folks around to laugh at me when I fall on my cowboy butt,” he laughed and the children laughed with him. They danced over to him and proceeded to meld together and run down onto him into his arms and surrounded him with their love.

“How does that feel, Sonny?” Sheriff Lassiter asked him.

“Like you’re encased in a love cocoon. Like you never want them to let you go. C’moan, Kids, let daddy go and resume your natural shape. You need to help that old man down from his sky-dancing afore he misses a step and busts his bony old butt. He's carrying ma' baby brother and yore' uncle inside him,” Sonny said. The children reformed as quickly as they melded onto him and raced to take their granddad’s hand and lead him back to Earth. Chief Tin Penny finished his song and everyone applauded.

“But that only answered part of our questions,” complained several of the folks.

“Officer Jones is for real,” Jesse replied, “he can do the things they say he can do. He is living proof, amid such potential evil and wrong-doing, truth and goodness will find a way to exist. It’s like scientists have found life can exist under very harsh circumstances. For centuries they believed life could only begin and develop within a narrow parameter of well defined prime conditions. Now they know differently. They found a plethora of life in the darkness at the bottom of the ocean living among the volcanic smokers erupting on the ocean floor. Down there life thrives on hydrogen-sulfide gas which would be poisonous to most things on the surface. So it is with goodness and grace.

"Officer Jones is but one of many who will be discovering they have capabilities they never dreamed of. They aren’t all in the Holy City. Many are in the determent camps healing the sick and helping the depressed to live another day. They are capable of rising up and leaving the camps, but they don’t because they have a greater calling to those they would have to leave behind. Some have learned to make themselves invisible, just like several of our cowboys and a number of the braves can do. Our chief can make himself invisible. Most of our lummox brothers can disappear in an instant and reappear when it suits them. We’re learning the Evanescent children can do it to. Go ahead, Kids. Show them,” Jesse urged.

The children seemed to vanish into nothing except you could see a light trail of particles like fine dust floating on the air, like dust dancing on the beams of sunlight in a closed room. Jesse stretched out his arm and motioned for the dust to come to him. It instantly moved in his direction and formed around his body. “You’re right, Sonny, there are no other words to describe the feeling except they become a love cocoon,” Jesse chuckled, “You kids comfortable?” he asked, “Yes, Master Jesse,” everyone heard their reply out of thin air. “Okay, now reform and go sit in your granddad’s lap. He looks like he needs some loving right now. Have you visited your young uncle who’s growing inside him?” Jesse asked.

“Naw, sir, but we’d like to,” Adam said.

“I’m sure he’d let you if you asked him nicely,” Jesse encouraged them. The children reformed and sat in their granddad’s lap. He wasn’t so sure he wanted them inside him, but after Jesse insisted they wouldn’t harm him or his bairn, Warren let one at a time go inside him and commune with their new little uncle. Horse was sitting close to Warren with his huge arm around him. He watched as the little boy dissolved into the air and allowed himself to be sucked into Warren’s body through his lungs. The little girl dissolved and quickly moved into Horse’s waiting pouch. She tickled him as she partially reformed to be about the size of a new bairn. Horse’s breast immediately began to engorge with nourishing lummox milk. The thought came to him, how was he going to get rid of the extra milk? A small voice came from his pouch into his mind. << May we have some, Mr. Horse? >> Lummox rarely laugh out loud, but Horse bellowed his merriment.

<< Of course, Little One. You and your brother may have all you desire. It would be an honor, >> he sent in return. He heard a small giggle in his head followed by,

<< Thank you, sir. >>

* * * * * * *
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, your Holiness, he won’t tell me,” Commander Del Hawkins responded to the Holy Prophet’s question. He was standing at ease in his formal in-house uniform. He looked very military and professional.

“He’s refused to come to me,” Scudder stated with some irritation, “I didn’t want him to come for a frolic. I wanted to speak with him about what was going on. I hear he stopped eating and refuses to get out of bed. Is that right?” Scudder asked.

“More than that, sir, he refuses to go to his job, and he ain’t attended a service in a week. The people are about to storm the Holy City. They’re out there on the sidewalks with posters wanting to know about their Jones. We keep telling them he’s ill, but they don’t believe it. They see the kids going in to visit with him and coming out healed. The only thing he will do is see sick children. He’s still healing them and once in a while he’ll see an older person, but the more healing he does the weaker he gets. It’s like his battery is being drained, but there’s nothing to replenish his strength. He ain’t eating. Other than you, I’m about the closest to him, and I’ve watched his growth since his first time in the chapel. I’ve seen rays of light come from all around him filling him with its strength and power every time he has an experience. I ain’t got no idea where it comes from, but I know, beyond a doubt, he needs it. Since he’s stopped going to chapel he ain’t git’n it no more,” Officer Hawkins explained.

“I know. I know. I’m getting all kinds of pressure. I’m about to go nuts. He’s been my biggest draw lately and my approval ratings at the polls have shot through the roof. Precious is about to have me lynched. I can take a lot, but when that fuck’n queen starts in on me with her tongue I want to find the nearest damn lock-box and close the door behind me. What can I do?” Scudder looked at Del and asked in a pleading voice.

“Please, sir, go to him. Excuse my bluntness, your Holiness, but fuck protocol. If you love him, go to him. I know he loves you. He needs you right now. Maybe you can reassure him or find out what’s eating him. For the last six months we’ve had record attendance at our services, and I can’t tell you the money we take in from offerings. It’s obscene. He never seems to tire and sees everyone who needs his blessing. It’s like he’s just shut down,” Hawkins said and started weeping. Jerry Scudder had never seen the big man who stood before him breakdown, but Del Hawkins put his face in his hands and began to sob. Scudder went to him and put his arms around him.

“There, there, Son. I know you. You done your best by him. Maybe you’re right. Take me to him. It’s time Mohammad went to the mountain. Besides, I been missing him. His schedule is more busy than mine, and I don’t get to see him that often anymore. Truth is, I’ve come to need him more than he needs me. After we’ve been together I’m ready to take on the world.”

Scudder walked to the Holy Temple infirmary with his arm locked tightly around Del Hawkin’s huge shoulders. They moved Officer Jones from his shared room with his commanding officer into a private hospital room. When the men arrived Del told Scudder to go in alone, he would stand guard with his other man outside the room. He assured them they would not be disturbed. He let Jerry in and closed the door behind them. Scudder looked and saw his consort lying in bed with his eyes closed. Jones only had a light sheet thrown over him and Scudder could see he was rock hard. He must have been having an erotic dream because there was a huge wet spot all around the head of his enormous penis. Scudder felt his pussy become wet with anticipation. God, how he wanted to run to him, throw the sheet off, and impale himself on the big man’s wonderful shaft. His Dumbo brought him such happiness so many times, just the smell of the man’s male musk could make his cunt start to drip.

Scudder quietly undressed. He was proud of himself. He was working out and went from a size thirty-four waist to a respectable thirty inches and was bulking up with weights. After he started seeing Jones regularly, he wanted to be more attractive for him. ‘Vanity thy name is man,’ he thought to himself and remembered one of the Psalms of David. ‘Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.’ He walked from one side of the bed to the other. He was naked as he turned down the lights in the room to a soft glow. He gently crawled in beside the huge man he learned to love and appreciate in such a short period of time. Jones didn’t awaken, but moved comfortably into Scudder’s arms. Scudder reached down and directed his engorged penis into his man-cunt. He slowly but surely pulled Jones into his hot and lusting body. He put his arms around the officer and kissed him gently. Jones eyes opened. His face changed from worried frown to a gentle smile.

“No one fits me like you do, sir,” Jones said quietly, “It’s nice to wake inside you and in your arms. You do love me,” Jones allowed.

“Of course I love you. I came to you, didn’t I? What man, woman, child, or animal wouldn’t love you? There is nothing about you that’s not to love. You lay love at my feet everyday. You are the only source of unconditional love I’ve experienced in years other than my brotherly love for Austin Taycious, but I love you differently. I love you like you are. You have become an icon of love, not only for me but for thousands of people who flock to see you do wonders and perform miracles of healing. You should be the Holy Prophet, not me. I’m just a would be backwoods Hell-fire, damnation, two-bit bible-thump’n preacher who learned a few tricks about administration and politics. I’m only real when I have you and Taycious to make me believe I can be real, that I can be more and rise above where I came from,” Scudder told him.

“No, you are my Holy Prophet. I wouldn’t be here; I wouldn’t have my powers if’n it weren’t for you, sir. I’m nothing more than a simple man who has no ambitions to be more than what I am,” Jones assured him.

“I know, and that’s why I love you so much. You never question me about why I need you. It’s enough for you to know I do. Do you feel strong enough to take from me what you need and give me what I need?” Scudder asked.

“I’m sure I can, sir. Let me show you how much I love you,” Jones replied. Jones started to fuck Jerry’s small tight cunt. Scudder couldn’t have been more ready. He was hotter than a two dollar pistol. Jones didn’t just do his macho manly thing of taking Jerry and fucking him for old glory, mother, home, country, and apple pie; he took his time and with every stroke made Jerry’s pussy sing a new song. Jones fucked the smaller man like Joshua Bell plays his Strad. He was getting feelings and sounds from Scudder no one ever heard before. Scudder was being driven to distraction when something felt very strange.

“What’s happening? What the Hell?” Scudder exclaimed as he looked into Jones’ eyes. He never noticed Brett’s eyes before. They were beautiful pools of liquid amber. They flashed with passion and a light he’d never seen before. “My God, are we floating in the air?” Scudder asked softly.

“Shuuuu...” Brett silenced him and gently kissed him on his forehead,“I thought it might be more comfortable for you. Not to worry. I’ll take care of both of us,” Jones reassured him. Jerry Scudder just went limp like he surrendered his last vestige of control over to his consort. Scudder gently grabbed Dumbo’s huge ears, one in each hand, and pulled his face to his into a passionate kiss. That’s all Dumbo Jones needed. He began to fuck Scudder like Jones knew he liked and like he enjoyed fucking him. They worked together building to a huge climax and were both yelling and screaming like banshees. Del Hawkins had no idea what the Hell was going on and rushed into the room to find his Holy Prophet and his subordinate officer suspended in midair six feet off the floor fucking like two minks in rut. He grinned, tipped his hat to Scudder, turned, and left the room. Scudder got his climax the same time Jones got his. They lay hooked together in the air for a good while. Jones slowly lowered them to their feet, but they stood hooked together making sweet love.

“That was fuck’n fantastic, Officer Jones. The very best you’ve fucked me – ever,” Jerry whispered to his consort.

“You say that every time I fuck you, sir,” Jones smiled and blushed, “You were wonderful, sir. I couldn’t have done it without you. Did I hurt you?" he asked.

“Are you kidding? Lord no! Not in the least. That had to be one of the best feelings of my life. It was like what I imagine a true religious experience should be. Since I ain’t never really had one I wouldn’t know, but you would,” Scudder declared.

“I can’t believe my Holy Prophet ain’t never had a real religious experience. You just did. That’s what a religious experience should feel like. In the scheme of things, it’s the only time a man is truly allowed to see the face of God is when he ejaculates. Same with a women or I suppose a man with a cunt. I ain’t no expert,” Jones said humbly.

“We’ll if that’s what a religious experience feels like I’m going to church more often,” Scudder joked with Jones, “Come, let’s move to the bed – no, don’t withdraw. Let’s lie together this way for a while and talk,” Jerry encouraged his consort.

Jones two-stepped his Holy Prophet to the edge of the hospital bed and gently laid him back and crawled on top of him. He repositioned himself so he was fully inside Scudder. “Don’t that damn thing ever go soft?” Jerry asked with a chuckle.

“Not when I’m with you, sir,” Jones replied.

“Officer Jones, while we’re lying here in this intimate position I want you to tell your Holy Father what’s happening to you. Why are you acting the way you been doing? You have a world of folks from every country upset and concerned about you. Have you seen the news on television? Have you read a newspaper lately?" he asked.

“Naw, sir,” Jones responded quietly.

“There’s nothing else on the tube or in the papers. Our country wants to know what’s wrong with their national hero; their young, fine looking Temple guard who has become so popular. Won’t you tell me, Son?” Scudder pleaded.

“Please, sir, I don’t wanna' get nobody into trouble,” Jones said.

“You let me be the judge of that. You won’t get anyone into trouble by telling me the truth, I promise you,” Scudder said.

“They’re selling my blood, sir,” he said quietly.

“Who? I know it can’t be Commander Hawkins or any of the Temple guards,” Scudder demanded.

“Naw, sir, they’s ma’ brothers. They wouldn’t do nothing like 'at. Commander Hawkins don’t know nothing about it. It’s the preacher and his cronies. It used to be they let anyone use it to heal themselves. Now, they pick it up and sell it on the black market for thousands of dollars. I just think what I give freely from myself, no man has the right to profit from. So I just stopped. I gave up. What they’re doing just ain’t right, sir,” Jones said on the verge of tears.

“Them unholy son’s of bitches! I’ll say it ain’t right. Will you trust me to get to the bottom of this and take care of it for you, Son?” Scudder asked.

“You know I will, sir,” he replied.

“Will you promise me you’ll start eating again and cut out some of your healing until you’ve healed some yourself,” Scudder asked sincerely.

“Yes, sir, I promise.”

“Good! I’m gonna’ put you under the strict personal care of Commander Hawkins. He won't be assigned any other duties but to look after you until you’re better. You do as he says. I will personally review everything the doctors prescribe and whatever Hawkins recommends for you. I won’t allow them to overdo or rush you along. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Holy Father. Thank you, sir,” Jones humbly replied.

They lay together making more love and talking quietly. Jerry was never more relaxed or felt better in his life, but his consort seemed to be fading in strength. “You’re weak. That took a lot out of you,” Jerry said with concern.

“Yes, sir, but you came to me. You needed me, and I wanted it to be special for you.”

“Don’t worry about that. It was wonderful. I ain’t never been fucked in free-fall before. It’s a good thing you’re so large we didn’t have to worry about re-entry,” Scudder laughed at his own joke. Jones even got that one and laughed. They made a little more love and Scudder never felt more fulfilled. Suddenly Jones lunged into Scudder hard like he was spearing him with his sword, he shuddered several times, gasping for breath, and Jerry could feel the big man ejaculating again inside him. It was so erotic Jerry had a deep internal climax of his own. He lay there gasping, but he sensed something wasn’t right. Jones wasn’t moving. “Officer Jones? Brett? What’s going on?” Scudder yelled to the big man as he gently shook him. Jones didn’t respond. He was so big Jerry couldn’t move him off of him. He yelled for Hawkins and the other guard. They rushed into the room. “Hawkins! You and Olefson lift him off me. I think he fainted.”

“Naw, sir. He ain’t breathing. He’s turning blue,” Hawkins said as he motioned for the other guard to help him. Together, they rolled Jones on his side and Scudder managed to let him slip out.

Jerry grabbed a robe from the closet and ran to the hall. “Get a doctor in here, now! On the double. We have a man who ain’t breathing,” Scudder demanded. A couple of nurses, an orderly, and an intern rushed into the room and took Jones vitals. It was worse than Hawkins thought. Jones’ heart stopped. The young intern was joined by one of the best staff physicians and they proceeded to use the paddles on Jones to start his heart beating again. They tried everything they could to no avail. Scudder and his officers watched in horror as they could see everything the doctors were trying didn’t seem to be working.

Scudder couldn’t believe when the main doctor turned to him and shook his head. "I’m sorry, sir. He’s gone. We can’t resuscitate him,” he said softly.

“No, no! There has to be something you can do. Open him up! I watch House on television. House would never just give up!” Scudder demanded.

A second doctor who joined them and tried himself several times confirmed the other doctor’s findings. “What do you want us to do with his body?” One of the interns asked quietly.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Leave him be for right now until I’ve had time to think. He stays right in that bed. Get him cleaned up and clean sheets on his bed. You may have given up on him, but I sure as Hell ain’t, not by a long shot. Nurses and orderlies get him cleaned up. Officers, you stay with me. The rest of you incompetent son’s of bitches, get the fuck out!” Scudder screamed at the top of his lungs. Everyone left except two nurses and one orderly. With the help of the two officers, they transferred Jones’ body to a gurney, changed his bed, and quickly bathed him. They returned him to the bed when they were finished, and the orderly pulled the sheet over his head. “No! Adjust the sheet to make it look like he’s sleeping. He may be dead to you folks, but he ain’t dead to me. I ain’t giving up on him that easily. He’s the only damn thing in my life what’s meant more to me than any of my own selfish ambitions. I won’t let him go without a fight. I will sell my very soul to the Devil himself if I must to bring him back to me!" Scudder exclaimed with passion. The hospital staff looked at him like he was insane, but Scudder stood his ground and gave them a look that dared them to say otherwise. "Thank you for your work. Now, get out! Leave us alone! Commander Hawkins, you stay with me,” Scudder commanded.

“Yes, your holiness,” Commander Hawkins replied.

“Not a word of this gets out to the public until I’m ready to announce it. Is that clear?” Scudder barked to the nursing staff.

“Yes, sir,” they said like frightened sheep.

“Officer Olefson, you go with them and make damn sure the others who were in the room are notified this is to be kept quiet until I say so. Understand, Son?” Scudder ordered the other officer.

“It will be done, your holiness,” Olefson left with the nursing staff. Delbert Hawkins instinctively moved to take Jerry into his arms. Scudder couldn’t hold back any longer and began to sob his heart out. Hawkins couldn’t be strong, and they stood wailing together in their grief trying to comfort each other as best they could.

“We can’t wait a second longer, sir,” choked out Hawkins, “we have to ask. If you’re think’n what I think you’re think’n, we have to do it now.”

“Right you are, Son. Let’s hit our knees.” The men dropped to their knees still holding each other.

“Would you ask, Del? I don’t think I’m worthy enough to ask for this. You’re a good man, Hawkins, and if anyone’s prayer will be heard, I know yours will be. I just feel it. It’s something I can’t explain, but I know it,” Scudder begged the big guard.

“Of course, sir, but I think you underestimate yourself. I think I can understand because of your love for Jones,” Hawkins replied.

“Exactly,” confirmed Scudder.

Commander Delbert Hawkins began to pray and asked for the radiant angels who saved the Holy Prophet to come to them and save one of their finest and most beloved Temple guards. Ms. Myra was monitoring Del Hawkins’ robo-cams and immediately sent a message to Cable. Cable sent David and Jonathan through the gates to the Lazy B ranch on the Buttercup where Jesse and Utah were spending a quiet afternoon with Jack Hall, Buck, Warren, Horse, and all the critters. When they heard the news they followed them back to the Bandersnatch and were immediately transported by the receiver on Del Hawkins’ robo-cams. In a bright flash of light they instantly appeared in the room except Jesse didn’t have time to change clothes or Utah’s appearance.

“You called for us. We are here,” Jesse spoke quietly. Del Hawkins smiled and nodded. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see them. Jerry wondered about that. Scudder was visibly shaken by their sudden appearance. The main angel, as was Jerry’s frame of reference, was dressed as a brown-dirt cowboy, complete with hat and boots. He looked like a saddle tramp with a three day growth of beard stubble. Next to him was the most beautiful Collie dog Scudder ever saw. Despite Utah’s appearance as a dog, Scudder knew, without a doubt, he was the second angel.

“Ah, ha! I knew he weren’t no human,” he pointed to the Collie dog sitting next to the big fine looking cowboy who stood before him.

“We didn’t come to discuss my companion’s physical appearance, Norman. He can be anything I want him to be. He can be anything he wishes himself to be. He prefers to appear as you see him now. On certain, more formal occasions, I have him appear as a human. Now – the reason you summoned us?” Jesse asked like he was a bit miffed at Scudder’s shallowness.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Scudder was contrite with the cowboy, “I don’t know your names.” Jesse looked down at Utah and nodded.

“I’m called Utah and my master is known as Jesse,” the dog said in perfect English.

Commander Hawkins grinned, but once again, Scudder was shaken because the dog spoke to him. “Goo– good to meet cha.’ Please, sirs, can you bring my officer back to life. He means so much to me and his fellow officers. He’s grown to be one of the most beloved, popular, and trusted men on our planet. It would be such a loss for our world not to have him in it. I’m begging you, please. I’m ready to offer anything I am or have to bargain to have him back again.”

“Have you fallen in love with this man?”Jesse asked him bluntly.

“Yes, sir, I won’t lie to you. He’s the only person I’ve ever loved more than myself, or my associate whom I love like a brother. No, make that, like a sister.” Scudder was serious, but Utah giggled. Hawkins laughed at Utah’s response.

“Then are we to assume you don’t wish us to return your male genitalia to you?” Jesse inquired.

Scudder was quiet for a few moments, “It don’t seem necessary as long as I have Officer Jones by my side, sir."

“Were you serious about what you told Commander Hawkins and the nursing staff a little earlier? Would you make a pact with the Devil to bring him back?” Jesse asked.

Scudder was quiet for another moment. “Most assuredly, I would! I meant every word of it, sir, even if it means only having one more day with him. I swear to you, I would eat the corn out of the Devil’s shit to the eternal damnation of my immortal soul if I could have Jones back with me. The future looks far too bleak for me without the ray of sunshine his life brings to mine. He loves me unconditionally and asked nothing of me but to need him and love him as much as I can. A week, a month, a year, or several years of happiness with him would be worth it to me, whatever I can get. I may never be able to tell him just how much I love him, but perhaps by my words I can declare it to you and the universe. Hell, to be honest, I never really understood just how much I do love him until I said those words and see his lifeless body lying there,” Scudder gave his most heartfelt speech.

“He’s got it bad, Master. Now you know how I feel about you,” Utah looked up at Jesse and grinned. Jesse smiled at his companion, reached down and patted him.

“I ain’t never had me no doubts, Friend,” Jesse said quietly but loud enough Hawkins and Scudder could hear their exchange. It was like he wanted them to hear it. Jesse made a mental note to himself, they had to stop hanging around cowboys so much. He and Utah were forgetting how to speak proper English. Utah reassured him it was proper where they were. Jesse had to agree with him. It was a language of comfort and belonging. It was the language of a place where they felt comfortable; a place they could call home.

“And will you forgive Officer Armstrong for killing you? Will you offer him and his mate your blessing,” Jesse challenged Scudder. Scudder was almost blown away by his question. Commander Hawkins turned his head away and coughed into his hand to keep from laughing.

“I make a solemn vow before you and the Commanding Officer of my Temple guards I do hereby forgive Officer Brick Armstrong and offer my sincerest blessing to him and his mate Timmy. I will gladly repeat my vow in person to him and Timmy. To go one step further, after much consideration of what me and my adviser done to little Tim, I can understand Armstrong’s anger and his hate. We damaged someone he loved and held dear to himself. If he done the same to Officer Jones, I would very probably exact the same price from him,” Scudder declared.

“Good enough! We will have to take Officer Jones with us. We can’t fully repair him here,” Jesse replied.

“How is it you were able to immediately repair me? Why didn’t you need more time?” Scudder challenged.

“You wanna’ take that one, Buddy?” Jesse grinned at Utah.

“Good question, Mr. Scudder, but your question wouldn’t be necessary if you knew about and understood the dynamics of time and space, and the ability to freeze-frame a moment in time like you might edit a video, snip a bit here, move it to another time and place and insert it there. If you know what’s gonna’ happen before hand, it’s a relatively simple procedure. We knew in advance there was a better than ninety percent chance Officer Armstrong was going to shoot you. There was a ten percent chance he wouldn't have shot you, if you kept your mouth shut, but we all know how that worked out. We had plenty of time to extract the information we needed to repair you. We simply stopped time, cut out the information a nanosecond before he shot you, and reinserted it as you were lying on the mortuary slab. Simple. We didn’t expect this happening to Officer Jones. We knew he wasn’t doing his regular thing, but we never considered he might drop dead from a massive brain hemorrhage,” Utah explained to Scudder.

“Brain hemorrhage? Them doctors told us he had a coronary. No wonder they couldn’t bring him around,” Scudder seemed bewildered, “I’m gonna’ fire all them incompetent quacks,” he fumed.

“Not to worry. With your help we can bring him back around for you to say goodbye. Then we must immediately take our leave before he expires again. Each time will make it harder to bring him around, so make your goodbyes short,” Jesse admonished him.

“That’s more than I could hope for, sir. I will be eternally grateful,” Scudder said.

“Even if I were to tell you we sent this man for you and gave him his extraordinary powers to teach you a lesson in humility and compassion?” Jesse asked.

“Even then...” Scudder’s voice trailed off as he broke down in Officer Hawkins’ arms.

“Good! No time for tears, Norman. Gather around him, Gentlemen. Commander, take my hand. Scudder, you and Utah stand on the other side. Utah?” Jesse spoke to his companion.

“As you wish, Master,” Utah humbly replied and the two men watched as the beautiful dog transformed into an even more handsome naked man.”

“We didn’t have time for him to grab another set of clothes,” Jesse said and smiled.

Utah quickly moved to the other side of the bed and took Commander Hawkins’ hand across. He took Jerry Scudder’s hand in his other and Jesse reached across to take Jerry’s hand in his. Jerry was impressed the man's hand was rough and calloused from hard work. Jesse closed his eyes and began to pray. “Our Ancient fathers, hear our prayer. Restore this good man to us so we may further repair him and make him whole again. His death is untimely in the scheme of a greater continuation. He has more to accomplish before he joins you and his brethren. His growth will enhance us all. He is a rare force in this universe and we need him,” Jesse prayed.

Suddenly, Scudder’s eyes grew larger as he looked across at Del Hawkins. Something wasn’t right here. Hawkins should be registering as much awe and astonishment as he was, yet he seemed cool, calm, and collected. He even had a smug smile on his face like he’d seen this before; like he’d been a part of something like this or he knew what these men could do. Scudder looked through the bright, near blinding light to see Officer Brett Jones’ eyes begin to flutter and finally open. Jesse told them to let go of their hands and the light immediately subsided. Jones was trying to speak. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his cheek. “Why did you bring me back, sir? I was okay. I was fine. I was in a wonderful place. I saw your pain. I didn’t want to leave you and the commander. It was such a beautiful place, but then, they told me I had to come back," Jones could barely get out.

“I brought you back out of selfishness, Officer Jones. I asked that you be brought back for me. I lied when I said it was for all our world. It was for the others who love you, but mostly for me. I can’t contemplate a future without you. Now you must go with these men and become well again. Then you may return to me, but I promise all will be better when you return. Your blood will never again be sold for money,” Scudder promised.

Scudder turned to Del as if to ask if he had something to tell Jones. “I love you, Brother, and I’ll be here waiting for you to return. Come home to us. We need you,” Del choked out on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry, we must go now. We’ll be in touch. We will keep you updated,” Jesse stated firmly. He took Jones’ hand. Utah took his other and joined hands across the bed with Jesse. There was another blinding flash of light. The two men and Officer Brett Jones were gone. Once again, Scudder collapsed in Commander Hawkins’ big arms and sobbed his heart out.

Del was strong for his leader and tried to consoled him. “It’s gonna’ be fine. He’s gonna’ be all right, you’ll see. Trust me. Trust Jesse and Utah,” Hawkins consoled Jerry.

Scudder got himself together and was quiet for a moment. There was just something in the way Hawkins said the names of the two men that made Jerry think– no, he knew– his guard was familiar with these men. “You know them, don’t you, Commander? You know who they are and where they come from," Scudder said. The commander didn’t answer, but Jerry Scudder didn’t push the matter. He didn’t really want an answer. He didn’t want to have his suspicions confirmed. Whatever his commander knew, Scudder knew it didn’t threaten him. His greatest fear was realized in that moment. His greatest fear was of himself and his inability to hold on to goodness when he found it. Jones and Hawkins were good men. He would simply let them be. He thought it might be possible to kill goodness with too much understanding. He was determined to learn to exercise his ten percent option.

End of Chapter 44 ~ Waco’s Lummox
Copyright ~ © ~ 2007 ~ 2017 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~ All rights reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
WC = 16,866
05/08/2008
02/12/2017

*RFID = Radio Frequency Identification Device