CHAPTER SIX

DEATH DO US PART

Few humans had ever practiced perversity to the extent that Dave Gleason had baptized himself into it.  His guilt over the manipulating of so many young innocents into hard core pornography, many of whom were dying of AIDS, had taken its toll.  At twenty-eight, he looked more like fifty.  His once luxurious long brown hair was nearly all gone.  His teeth and gums had been diseased and yellowed, and many had simply fallen out from his constant use of cocaine and amphetamines.  It was still no problem for him to get sexual partners, although all of them were so high on drugs when they had relations with him, they remembered nothing of it.

Unlike many who were simply ignorant of the Mighty One's warnings, Gleason knew.  He had decided to ignore the pleadings to repent and return.  Several times he had taken near fatal overdoses of sleeping pills just to numb the nagging voice in his head that was telling him to turn back from his life and start over.

He got his wish with Santero's major financing and distribution of his Whores of Babylon movie.  Overnight it grossed millions.  It was translated into seven languages and subtitled into at least thirty.  Santero was not interested in Gleason being his partner.  The missile launcher had already run up costs of close to thirty million dollars.  The workers could only be kept for about three months.  After that, they wanted their leave.  Rather than risk them discussing what they were doing, he was having them murdered and buried in the middle of Half Moon Bay.  Over a hundred had lost their lives.  A former Nazi scientist who had lived in Brazil, Otto Mensch, had been supervising the construction.  Otto knew the launcher was for the destruction of the Bay area, but after being responsible for the V bombing of London, he had no scruples about killing innocent people.  He knew Santero well.  He knew him under a different name during World War Two - Adolf Hitler.  He had followed him willingly then and he would follow him now.  To him there was no difference.  They were both consumed with the same immense hate.  To him there were no innocent Americans.  It was the Americans who had brought an end to his beloved Third Reich and they would pay for it.  That alone made him happy.

Santero entered the accounting office where Cad was making out checks.  The most recent payment for Gleason's production company had been $3,000,000.  Another one was due for almost $2,000,000. 

"We need another five million for the launcher.  Workers need to be brought in from China.  We are running out of time."

"Look, I am doing the best I can.  We keep paying this Gleason so much, we're lucky to have enough to meet the weekly payroll and the supply list.  Everything we are using is costing us nearly three times the going market rate.  It's the hidden price for silence."

"Well, maybe it's time we got rid of one of our accounts payable.  Have Prothesus get rid of Gleason.  He's become too expensive.  Kasen will set up the meet.  Better yet, bring him down here.  It's been a while since I've seen a really painful departure."

"You think it's wise to bring him here?  We are lucky we are not under surveillance from the massacre in San Mateo.  We had to kill all those people."

"Don't worry, he won't tell a soul where he's going, and Kasen, well, he'll keep his mouth shut as well.  He loves our money far too much not to mention the girls."

Kasen gave Gleason a routine phone call to rendezvous to pick up his royalty check.  They met down at the wharf where Kasen passed him the check during cocktails.  Gleason was shocked at how much he was making.  He had plans for other films even more depraved, one involving terrorists raping orphans.  He had found a crooked orphanage director in Mexico City who was going to go along with it.  Gleason enjoyed docu-dramas.  He was oblivious to anyone else's suffering.  He had decided to not use Santero for the financing of his new series, Rape of the Children.  He was going to fund it himself.  He would keep an even bigger piece of the distribution pie.  It was a brilliant idea straight from the bowels of Hell.  What he didn't realize was his foolish pursuit of wealth to the neglect of all else was rapidly coming to an end.  He had a fleet of expensive sports cars, a luxury apartment in the Marina district and a beautiful house nestled in the hills of Sausalito.  With plenty of funds in liquid capital, he had begun to think he was immortal.  He hadn't remembered the warning that Christ had spoken to the rich farmer who kept building barns for his newfound wealth.  "You fool, tonight your life will be required of you."

Gleason wasn't even the least suspicious when Kasen invited him to a party thrown in his honor.  He told him that Whores of Babylon was their best grossing film and they would love if he attended a banquet in his honor.  Sort of a roast, Kasen had said.  Because of the highly secretive location of Santero's home, Gleason was not to bring a guest.  Kasen furnished him with a copy of the directions and instructed him not to be late.  After hurriedly finishing his drink, Kasen departed.  Gleason lounged around a bit, made some advances towards the cocktail waitress who was repulsed by his crude suggestions, and left for home.  He stuck the check in a deposit bag he had at his apartment, determined to put it in on Monday morning.

Santero literally meant to destroy Gleason.  He meant to bring such fear into his life that every pore of skin would reek of it.  It was an intoxicant to him.  Just as Christ had enjoyed walking the Garden and communing with the beauty of nature, Santero enjoyed the smell of terror.  There was no smell sweeter to him.  Only a few mortals destined for the Lake of Fire had ever felt the pain that awaited them.  The face Lucifer had painted of evil was of the beautiful side of evil.  The emphasis was on the pleasures and luxuries of wealth, lust, and power.  Very few even saw their real fate until there was no chance of turning back.  Santero, relishing the thought, wanted Gleason to go a little bit differently.  From the bowels of the Lake of Fire, he brought up Anthrax, who brought  up a hundred of his most venomous creatures.  Miniature demons with faces like thousand year-old children and bodies like scorpions and wings like bats.  These were the fallen who had rebelled even before they came into maturity.  They were like nothing ever known.  Their grand debut on earth was held back to an indefinite date.  Half Moon Bay had an elaborate cave system.  In the woods behind the estate there was a cave that led down to the very bowels of the earth.  All the way to the Lake of Fire where they dragged their unwitting victims.

Cad had taken careful preparation for the feast.  A large barbecue pit had been set up.  Having inspired the former Count of Transylvania, Vad the Impaler, preparing the pit had been a pleasant memory for him.  The servants who worked at the Half Moon Bay estate knew they would never leave alive.  They had witnessed too much.  All of them had been brought in as young teenagers and even as children.  They had only experienced life around Santero.  They remembered little else.  They had seen many people come and go, but they were never permitted off the grounds.  They were told that the place had everything a person could want - everything except love and freedom.

The outdoor tent was laid out with the finest Oriental and Persian rugs with pillows all about.  Many of the workers on the missile site were invited as well.  The smell of fear compounded when shared by many.  Santero lusted for the aroma.  He had gone too long from smelling real fear - group hysteria.  He had enjoyed the thousands in the concentration camp ovens as they clawed their fingers into the steel doors.  He had enjoyed the submarine crews suffocating, but tonight would be different.  He would enjoy it firsthand using the senses of his latest human host whose own repulsiveness would heighten the experience.

Many of the workers had been asking to go home on leave.  They had been rebuffed.  A few of the troublemakers had been taken out.  No one knew that they were simply murdered and buried at sea.  As they were escorted into the large tent, the projector came on and they were shown the film Whores of Babylon.  Since their entrance into the Half Moon Bay project, they had been saturated with the vilest of pornography.  To many of them, this one was no different.  They were almost immune to its sensuality.  The screaming of the newly killed victims aroused only a small drop of response from most of them.

Cad brought Gleason forward.  He was naked with a large dog collar around his neck.  There were welts over his body, and as the light went up, many in the audience gasped. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the man who wrote and produced Whores of Babylon and the man we are feasting on tonight, DAVE GLEASON.  Please, applause everyone."

They all began to applaud him.  Gleason thought it was all a sick joke, that they'd have their laughs and let him go.  It ceased to be funny when they stuck an apple in his mouth and led him over to the barbecue pit.  His hands had already been tied in front of him with thick leather bracelets.  His feet were roughly bound and he was dragged to the pit.  His eyes widened in terror as he realized that they were planning on roasting him.  Santero walked up to him.

"Yes, Mr. Gleason, this is your night.  We thought we'd give you an early start into your eternity.  There, only your spirit will feel the pain.  Here your body can share in it.  Oh, I know how much money you made us.  Doesn't seem to matter too much now, does it?  Only I've brought along some special guests to speed the process along."

Santero held up the cage with the scorpion in it.  "This is one of my little followers.  I believe his name is Stinger.  That is the term his keeper uses for him affectionately.  Not many on this planet have seen him.  Where you are going, there are hundreds of thousands just like him.  Somewhat of a chilling thought, but you are going to need some chilling thoughts, aren't you?"

As Santero motioned with a nod of his head, they mounted Gleason over the barbecue pit.  The workers began to vomit and many looked anxiously for the exit door.  They didn't know that their time of service was over.  They would never get out of the room alive.  Anthrax entered ten feet tall, scales like a dragon with a reptile like tail.  Covering his body were thousands of the scorpions, their wings making a humming sound.

"All of you watch, for none of you will ever leave here alive.  You have all seen too much.  This body I inhabit is just a shell for my earthly operations.  Now you shall see who I really am and worship me.  Perhaps if your worship pleases me, you shall be permitted a quick death.  If not, you shall die slowly as well."

The people in the room flocked in front of Santero.  Before their eyes he had grown three feet.  From his head sprung enormous curled ram's horns.  His feet grew to monstrous sizes bursting through the toes of his shoes.  From out of the back of his designer suit sprang two full wings with a span of nearly fifteen feet.

"Yes, I am the Lord of Heaven and Earth, the King of Pain, the destroyer of the innocent, the Wrath, the Butcher.  Will you worship me?"

Santero's servants flocked before him bowing and paying him homage.  Several of the workers rushed forward as well, taking the cue from his servants.  Those that didn't were set upon by the scorpions, screaming as they were stung time after time.  Many of their faces blew up to balloon size proportions as the deadly venoms were pumped into their bloodstreams and their bodies tried their best to defeat the foreign venoms.

Gleason slowly spun over the barbecue pit.  He could only watch in horror as many died around him.  Most of his body hairs had been burned off and his skin was growing hotter and hotter.  In the back of his mind he remembered the minister warning him about Hell and how Jesus had paid for his redemption.  He thought about the lives he had destroyed and knew that he deserved the punishment he was now receiving.  Something within him told him that though his natural body would die, he didn't have to die with it.  Santero was intoxicated and revelling in the pain and fear that Gleason was experiencing.  He didn't tune into Gleason's prayers for forgiveness.  Eons away beyond the sun and the Milky Way Galaxy, the Mighty One did.

Immediately Michael and Thelonius were dispatched to his aid.  They arrived at Half Moon Bay and materialized in the middle of the mist-filled Northern California night.  Santero's mouth was agape as he looked in shock at the two heavenly host swords drawn ready for battle.  Although Gleason was still alive, he had gone into shock.  His spirit had found forgiveness and peace in the Mighty One's presence, though outwardly his skin had hardened like a saddle.  Around his wrists, his skin had peeled back to reveal his wrist bones blackened by the fire.  Gleason was aware that a tremendous battle was taking place around him.  The prayers of Gleason's parents had not gone unanswered.  Even as the very life force ebbed within him, his spirit was being saved for eternity.  His body hung, an empty shell spinning like a ferris wheel.

"He is mine," screamed Santero at Michael and Thelonius.  "You have no right to be here.  Be gone or I shall have you roasting as well.  This is my dominion."

"The Lord rebuke you, Santero.  Your power over his spirit has ended.  You have no power or authority over him.  Now let us pass or you shall taste of the wrath of the Mighty One."

Michael hit Santero with the broadside of his sword full force along his temple.  Santero was thrown back fifteen feet by the blow.  The other demons cowered in fear shrieking and howling as though their cackling could disrupt the Gods of War.  As the Warriors passed through the nearly endless mass of distorted angry faces, Thelonius turned to David to comfort him.

"You will remember no more, David.  All your past memories will fade as you draw close to the Mighty One.  There is someone in the City of Light who has been praying for you and looking forward to seeing you - Pamela Hauser.  Even now she waits for your arrival."

Gleason was awed that with the last traces of his memory he remembered the pain he had caused her and yet she was waiting for him.  Could that mean she had forgotten all the torment he had brought to her short life?  He was curious.

The Celestial City never looks as beautiful as it does to a human spirit at the first glimpse.  It's a completely overwhelming experience as the spirit draws in the very warmth of the Mighty One flooding out all else.  The showers of light and rainbow of colors permeate like nothing else, filling every area of the spirit with life-giving joy and strength.  To live eternally beyond pain, beyond questioning, beyond the shadow of doubt that plagues even the strongest of followers.  That was to be Dave Gleason's lot.  Undeserving, he was the lucky one.  His parents had never lost hope, never wrote him off.  They would never even find out what became of him until they themselves were greeted by him in the City of Light.  Months would pass before his disappearance would even be investigated.

As David passed through the great pearled gates, his spirit came to rest at the feet of the Mighty One.

"Welcome, David, you are loved and forgiven.  Enter now into my eternal peace.  All that you have done is forgotten.  There is no need for you to fear retribution.  My Son has carried your sins."

"Mighty One," Dave responded, "I of all am so unworthy.  I can't even believe this is happening to me.  I know where I deserve to be."

"Yes, but you called out to me in your moment of need.  You called and I answered and Santero shall not have any part of you.  His time is short, David.  Soon he will have to live in his own world with only himself to blame.  There is much of his empire to dismantle.  Perhaps you would like to help?"

"Certainly.  How can I?"

"Join Pamela in praying for her father.  Perhaps if he turns in time, we can abort the needless death of so many."

At that moment Pamela appeared in the throne room.  David had never seen any person so beautiful.

"I prayed for you, David.  And now you are here.  Will you join me in interceding for my father?"

Even as David was agreeing, Pamela's spirit enveloped and passed through him, and they continued their wordless conversation.

"Yes, I will.  I will devote myself to it.  I can't remember what I did on earth, but I know that I owe this to you.  It is a debt that I will gladly repay."

His first task having been chosen, David passed out of the throne room to join Pamela alongside the crystal river where they would scoop out handfuls of the living water to pour on her father's thirsty soul.

A universe away, Jerry Hauser was sharply awakened from a deep dream.  The knowledge that something was trying to communicate with him was impossible to ignore.  He had never felt more alone in all his life.  He had betrayed every value that he had held dear and he was paying for it with throbbing torment.  He wished that the submarine would just disappear from the planet.  The men under him, some of whom he had known for over twenty years, had been avoiding him.  Several had attempted to find out what was wrong, but he had rebuffed them all.  He saw no sense in discussing something as hopeless as his current situation appeared to him to be.  Yet something was strange to him.  It was as if there was a presence in the darkness offering him hope.  It was like a warm tradewind on the South Pacific after months in the Arctic Circle.  He reached out for it.  He knew he couldn't survive much longer without hope.  Unknown to Jerry, the presence was Davidshu, the Mighty One's messenger of comfort.  He had found him at the bottom of the sea and was serenading him.  The music had tamed him more than any drug ever could have.  The strain and the torment that he was feeling had left, and were replaced by an inexplicable sense of calm.

Davidshu played the strings of human hearts like no one else.  Through the years he had inspired Bach, Mendelson, Hayden, Beethoven, Schumann and countless others.  Their melodies, lullabies, fugues and symphonies had brought happiness and comfort to untold millions.  When he was assigned to just one human, his talent truly showed.  He played Jerry's heart until Jerry knew that he must confess his betrayal and come clean both before God and his fellow man.  Davidshu knew that Jerry Hauser would never be the same.  His heart had been changed forever.  In the same way a masseuse kneads out the kinks and knots and releases the poisons trapped in the muscles, Davidshu had massaged Jerry's heart and Jerry had himself grown comfortable with releasing his own poisons and finding forgiveness and ultimately peace.  The fear of prison and the fear of rejection meant nothing to him compared to having his conscience cleared.  He knew he needed to get back to port as soon as possible.  They were three days out from their base in Guam.  He got up and prepared his full confession.