"A blasphemy to human form
As flesh contorts normality"
Gorgasm Horrendous RebirthIn the midday sun, the field where the old tent lay was being strangled by weeds and summer crabgrass. In the middle of the field, a weathered, rain-stained sign read REVIVAL TODAY-REV WORTH. The blazing heat reflected off of the sign and eased along the decomposition of a dead dog sprawled underneath. The dog's eye sockets were filled with squirming, feasting maggots. Some of them had left the carcass; as they neared the tent, Bubba saw them burst like pus-filled balloons.
A rusty brown Studebaker sat in the field a ways from the tent. In the driver's seat was a mannequin. Its eyes were missing and deep, angry slashes had been etched into its skin.
Outside the driver's side window, Arnie studied the mannequin's wounds. "These are new," he said. His voice was thin, and his hair had been combed to hide much of his face. He stood away from the car and looked over at Bubba.
"How's the dog?" he asked.
"I think they're eating his brains," Bubba said. He didn't look at Arnie. That was a difficult thing to do, even with all the hair hiding his face. The scars on his ankles and wrists were eye candy compared to Arnie's face. He turned away from Arnie, letting him read the back of his Deaden shirt. The words BUTCHERED WHORE were splattered across the back. Bubba stared into the distance. There was nothing but farmland for miles. It was a long way back to Cleveland.
"Lyrical inspiration," Arnie said.
Bubba had once been head gurgler in a band called Dysmenorrhea. The band had broken up after Bubba moved. For a few weeks, they were a force to be reckoned with in the Cleveland deathgrind scene. He wished that there was a way back to Cleveland. There was no escaping this place.
"We're late," he said, glancing at the tent.
"I ain't going," Arnie said.
"You know what happens if you don't."
"We could get back to Cleveland. You could reform the band--"
"They'd just catch us," Bubba said. Last week, a homeless guy named Andrew Lasse had tried to escape. He got as far as the road. They caught him and ripped him apart right there on the asphalt. They left his remains in the tall grass, and the rest of him slathered on the road.
There was no way to know how far Worth Ministries reached. No money was being made. Nor was there an effort to spread a message of any kind to the surrounding communities. People came, nonetheless. At first, it was just people from nearby, but Bubba always saw strangers at every meeting.
Bubba snared Arnie around the shoulder. "Let's go," he said. They walked into the tent together. Inside, the heat was much worse than it had been outside. The congregation, around fifty people--attendance rose and fell every week--sat on the left side of the tent. The right side was bare concrete, stained by dried blood and dust. No one in the congregation saw Arnie and Bubba walk in; none of them had eyes to see.
Bloody, grease-soaked rags were wrapped around their heads. They sat sweating in metallic folding chairs, clad only in sackcloth. The moment the two boys entered, they knew that all the attention was fixed on them.
"Well," said a voice at the front. "Look what the cat dragged in."
Reverend Worth stood at the pulpit. He was a gray-haired shadow of a man, clad in a gray suit too small for him. It clung to his leathery skin.
"Sit down, boys." Worth said. "I have somethin' planned for you two, specifically."
One of the congregation, a giant woman who'd read to Arnie at the county library many years ago, screamed, "Blind them to evil..." and an old man Bubba didn't recognize rocked back in his chair and bellowed "Pluck out thy offending eyes--" before he fell over and laid still on the dusty floor.
"Lord amighty, have MERCY!" Worth shouted. "Before we start, I have to read something first."
Bubba sat next to the librarian, who was crying silently. Red trails trickled down her face.
"The reading," Worth said, "is from the first sentence of Genesis..." He opened his Bible and began: "In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth," Worth slowed down. "And darkness covered the face of the deep..."
He closed the book. "I always used to wonder," he said, "I always used to wonder what happened to the darkness covering that deep face. Sitting in a cramped office, looking at numbers day after Godless day, I wondered why I bothered, staring at other peoples' numbers and listening to them whine about their financial straits...I started reading the Bible and a-talkin' to God..."
"He's doing it again, Bubba," Arnie moaned.
Worth disappeared behind the pulpit. When he stood up, he held a small, plain wooden box in his hands. "Who wants to look in the box?" he shouted. "Who wants to look into the darkness?"
The congregation began to tear and scream at each other.
"QUIET!" Worth commanded. They obeyed. "Bubba," He said, "I think it should be you."
Bubba rose.
"Don't, man." Arnie pleaded, holding onto Bubba's arm.
Bubba shook him off. "It's my time, Arnie."
Arnie slumped back in his chair.
"Take my shirt," Bubba said.
He took it off and gave it to Arnie, who cradled it in his arms. "Bye, Bubba," he said.
Bubba strode to the front and faced Worth. "Are you ready?"
Bubba nodded.
Worth opened the box and pressed it against Bubba's face.
Arnie closed his eyes when Bubba started to scream. It was a great scream, as good as he'd ever sounded. He screamed long and loud. Some of the members of the congregation screamed with him--awful, feral howling that always made Arnie feel more sorry than afraid.
When Worth took the box away from Bubba's face, he stopped screaming, and stood there, staring straight ahead, his ragged eye sockets empty and bleeding.
"I have seen," he said.
By that time, everyone in the congregation was on their feet, howling like starving dogs. For Arnie, it was like an especially violent mosh pit, as they whirled and twisted and tried to hurt themselves and each other. On his way out, Arnie was seized by a tall, bald man, who tried to get an arm around his throat. Arnie wrenched away, quickly turned and punched the man square in the mouth. The man went down, twitching in the dust. He would slowly choke to death on his own teeth in the midst of his convulsions.
Arnie heard Worth say, "Brother Bubba has been cleansed."
He stood near the flap in the tent. "He was my friend," Arnie said.
"Bubba just looked into God's eyes, Arnie," Worth said. "Without eyes, he cannot see the temptations of Satan, the evils of the world. Maybe you should leave. We want nothing to do with a soul as corrupt as yours."
Arnie stared Worth down.
"You won't run, Arnie." Worth said. "I'll catch you. You know what happens then."
Arnie lowered his head and walked out of the tent.
In the heat, Arnie took a few steps then leaned on the sign, baking in the sun.
There was really nothing to see anymore. Just the field, the Studebaker, and Bubba's dead dog. There was nothing holding him here except the bloodthirsty wrath of the blind congregation. But to stay... Ten minutes later, Arnie decided to run.