Apocalypse of Jude

Jude moves on until he comes upon Mae and Paul upon the banks of a river with its ferryman, unkempt, haggard and gaunt, poling his leaky bark towards the near bank. But there, suddenly upon it, running towards them they find Mae’s father livid, finger out accusing.

“Murderers who left me unburied. Usurpers of my priestly right over my daughter. I was priest and king guarding the sacred door.”

Paul looks on in scorn.

“You had no intention of ever opening the door or presiding over your daughter’s rite. You knew the time was ordained and you sought to pass it by, closing it on your daughter forever, so that you could grow your power in this town at the expense of our god.”

Mae looks in a haunted way upon her father, her hatred boiling to the surface as never before.

“For your greed this has taken place. May you never be buried and know honour in death. May you forever languish on this bank never to know death’s peaceful sleep. But may you be cursed to wander this shore and know Dionysus’ wrath.”

She whirls away from him and with demanding hand proffers the mistletoe bough to the ferryman.

“Take us across, for we seek Dionysus, and I am his consort.”

The grim, gaunt figure grimaces at the bough, but scowling, poles alongside a rickety jetty on the banks of the muddy, eddying murky waste that flows beneath his skiff. Mae first, then Paul, gingerly haul themselves over the boat’s rotted edge, its planks creaking and pools of muddy waste sloshing on its floor. Under the weight of their living flesh, from bow to stern, the vessel sinks lower into the sludge. Jude makes his way to board, but the boatman, with his giant, angular frame, blocks the way.

“The living have no place among the dead.”

Hearing the refusal rocks Mae back, gagging from shock, making the bark rock violently in the liquid waste. Paul stares belligerently.

“What do you mean the living have no place among the dead? I enacted his ritual death.”

The boatman pushes off from the jetty, sending the skiff into the midst of the thick flow.

“The living have no place among the dead.”

The understanding penetrates Mae, and she speaks with deathly silence to Paul.

“Our mission is doomed. This is the blank card my mother couldn’t see. The wheel of your plan cannot finish its turn without the consort priest.”

In great fury, Paul screams with hideous anger back over the river in a hollow, disappearing voice.

“You’ve made me mad again Jude. I told you not to dare make me mad. I said I’ll kill you if you do.”

Jude now looks back calmly at Paul, raising his voice to send his words, realising that he has indeed passed not into Hades but some other place.

“You were going to kill me anyway Paul. Kill me, resurrect him in you, then consort with her. Why else are you down here? If its any consolation to you, as priest I confer to you the right to consort with Mae.”

In even greater fury, Paul screams as with hate through the dark mist.

“We have a new house prepared for us. We will go there, and we will do what we came to do. Destroy this town. As for you Jude. You, you, you, I will drown alive, but barely.”

Jude calls back into the dark mists.

“There is nothing you can do to me Paul. Just as there is nothing you can resurrect through me, there is nothing you can kill in me.”

With that Paul disappears into the mists of the waste.

In the mustard-coloured lounge, the others remain gathered around the three, continuing to chant their chorus of hymns. Jude remains on his chair, Mae and Paul sit cross-legged, facing each other on the alter, as they were in the ferryman’s boat.

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 116