Apocalypse of Jude

There is a moment of uneasy stillness in which Caul stares out at through a low lying fog at the unreal city, flickering brighter now in the darker dusk that gathers over the poor masses his father the Moor now controls. Paul laughs suddenly with deep enjoyment, wanting to bury his fear quickly before Caul.

“But it soon won’t matter, will it Caul. Not after Christmas. Power will have shifted clearly into our hands.”

Paul draws on a crisply burning cigarette.

“Caul, come and lunch with me tomorrow at the Cannon Hotel and I will begin to show you how we will overthrow this whore of a system those real estate moguls have been bringing from their cities into this town. I’ll show you how we will use your father’s masses to set ourselves up in this town. The people here will worship us, because we will have the power to bring the supernatural daily in view of the people. You know I’m right. The real estate kings are fighting for their lives, and retreating into golfing estates. But more and more are joining our vision Caul. My plan is coming to fruition.”

Paul smiles satisfied.

“And then I hope you will join me for tomorrow evening’s banquet at the Metropole for the beginning of their end.”

His hand waves as a wand over the town below and to the city beyond.

“The last phase of their whore mixing with this town and creating a beast.”

Caul doesn’t answer this one who shares his blood, but draws further on his cigarette. Paul looks at Caul from beneath his eyebrows in a way that insists he be understood.

“So don’t let their Church get his fingers into you now. They’re the reason we’re stuck in this wasteland. It’s the Church that hated us. You want resurrection Caul? Come with me. And we’ll give these people a new way.”

He tosses away his cigarette. It glows on the dry grass then peters out. When Caul looks up from it, he finds himself alone.

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 67