[tshiggins]

Okay, I've been kicking around an idea for another group of villains, on Inp-Earth, but I wanted them to tie into the world events, a little better. The Halloween events gave me the hook.


Messenger

Rev. Russell Posey stared quietly around the table at the dozen brethren who’d come out so late on a cold, rainy Thursday night. All of them were solid citizens, and early-risers who owned local shops, or made the hour-long commute to jobs in Evansville. He knew at least a couple had tussles with youngsters not old enough to understand why they couldn’t go out Trick-or-Treating through the streets of Vincennes, Indiana, with the other children. Those fathers looked a worn out, and they were sipping at second cups of coffee.

Given what he was about to reveal, Rev. Posey figured that brewing a couple of fresh pots of coffee was the least he could do. He took a deep breath.

“Gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out on such a cold night,” Posey said, solemnly. “If you would indulge me, I’d like it if we could bend our heads in prayer, a few moments.”

Several of the brethren blinked in surprise, but joined the rest in murmured agreement. After a brief request for guidance from the Good Lord, Rev. Posey took another deep breath as the men waited patiently.

“Brethren, the reason I’ve called you here is because I need your advice. I believe our dedication to the Good Lord’s righteous path has been noted, and we may have – I might have – received a divine visitation.”

A moment of shocked silence rapidly gave way to babbled questions. Brother James Walker quickly took control of the group after a few moments, as usual, and shushed everybody up. He looked at the reverend for a long couple of seconds.

“That’s an extraordinary thing to say, Rev. Russ, especially on a night given over to heathen excess.”

“I know, Big Jim, but I think perhaps our devotion to the Word, especially on this night, may have drawn the attention of the Divine. However, because diabolical forces have used this night to so successfully seduce the ignorant, for so long, I felt that it’d be best to consult with all of you. I also plan to travel down to Evansville, tomorrow, to speak to Rev. Pike.”

Brother Hank Surrey, who owned the nearby meat locker and served as the group’s quartermaster, spoke up.

“Reverend, maybe you better tell us what’s goin’ on.”

Rev. Russ swallowed a sip of coffee and wiped his palms on the legs of his trousers.

“Well, I closed up the church after we got the spaghetti supper cleaned up, tonight, and I sent all the ladies home – Bill, do thank Gracie for the garlic bread; it was wonderful – and walked on out to my car. I pulled around the front, and something made me look up at the front doors. I saw a lady in a white dress sitting up on the top step. She wasn’t wearing a coat, but she didn’t look cold. I, uh, didn’t recognize her; she’s not a member of the congregation.”

The reverend took another sip of coffee, and cleared his throat.

“I opened my car door and stood up, to ask her if something was wrong. The lights were all off inside the church, so I figured she had to know it was closed up. She said that, yes, something was very wrong and asked me to come up and sit next to her, for a few minutes. She, uh, she knew my name.”

Hank blinked.

“You mean, she asked you to sit out on the front steps, in the rain?”

“Yes, she did. I’ll tell ya, I wasn’t too excited by the notion. It wasn’t pouring, or anything, but there was a cold drizzle, about like right now. Plus, it was a long day and Mrs. Posey was waiting for me to come home so she could turn in. Oh, yes. I did call her before I called all of you.”

“Maybe she won’t thump you, too bad, when you finally get home,” Frank Henderson said, after a guffaw.

“Here’s hoping. Anyways, I figured that if this young woman was out on such a night, and needed to talk to me so badly, I probably could sit with her long enough to convince her to come back tomorrow morning. So, I went up the steps and sat down.”

Rev. Russ took a deep breath, as the other men agreed that was darn decent of him.

“That’s when noticed the first strange thing. The dress was real old-fashioned, like ones from the ‘50s I saw my granny wear. Also, she wasn’t wet; not at all. Not her hair, or her dress, or anything.”

The room grew still.

“I asked her how I could help her, and she said she’d come bearing a message. I got a little spooked, about then, but she said I needn’t fret. She said she and some of her peers had been sent to bear tidings to those concerned about the growing sinfulness of our nation, who had worked so hard to draw our brothers and sisters away from the path of error, and bring them back to the path of righteousness.”

The brethren leaned in more closely, eyes riveted.

“She confirmed all of our fears. She said corruption had blossomed in the souls of our brothers and sisters, and it has drawn them away from the Word of God. They now walk the erroneous path of moral relativism and spiritual weakness. She said secularism is a stain on the fabric of our society, scientific materialism lures our best and brightest away from the beautiful promise of God’s creation. She said the desire for financial gain has seduced our sisters and daughters away from their ordained roles as wives and mothers. Our society has begun the slide toward degradation followed by France and England, before us, and Rome before them, and ancient Egypt, before that. A dark age is upon us.”

Nobody said anything. Rev. Russ’ coffee mug rattled the table a bit as he lifted it for another sip. Big Jim Walker carefully laid his own shaking hands flat on the table.

“Did she…, uh, did she say anything else?”

“She did. She said the time had come to gather close our friends and families and those of like mind, and prepare for the dark times, ahead. She said the other four worlds that have appeared in our sky have been sent by the Almighty as a test of faith.”

“We knew it,” said Hank Surrey, quietly. “It’s just like you always said, reverend,” Alan Borden added, a second later.

“She had more to say. She said that those of us who have remained rightly-guided must fight to take back our beloved nation from the secularists, the feminists, the scientists and the other moral relativists, lest the entire country fall into sin and depravity. The melting pot has become a crucible, she said, and that horrible attack, last spring, was just the first of many strikes of the hammer. If we do not want to shatter from the blows of our enemies on those other worlds, we must strike, ourselves – and strike hard -- to exorcise this nation’s impurities. Or all is lost. All is lost.”

Jim Walker’s chair scraped the buffed concrete of the church’s basement floor, as he pushed it back and stood up. The big man walked over to the big Persian rug in the center of the room, and clasped his hands behind his neck as he looked at the designs for a long moment. Then, he looked at the gathering, his face pale.

“Oh, God. Did she…, did she say where to strike. Or, or who?”

(Continued)