Untitled Alt-Hist/Sci-Fi Novel-Chapter 1: A Man, A Gun, and His Dog
It was slightly colder than usual in Sector 6 tonight. The wind howled through the forest, causing the flames around the campfire to leap into spontaneous pirouettes around the tea kettle. VM-1236 was sheltered from the wind beside his lean-to, a sophisticated, if crude construction composed of a couple of broad sheets of corrugated tin and plywood. Were it not for his two companions, one would have found the foggy scene rather melancholy. Kaiser, his trusty german shepherd, lapped gently at his right hand, no doubt trying to salvage a bit of the greasy squirrel meat that they had earlier eaten. To his left was perched Regina, the only lady he ever trusted: his Ruger Mini-14. VM-1236 took his iodine tablets and stubbed out his cigarette. He poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle and sipped it slowly, inhaling the calm, cool air of the night.
There was a serenity in the turbulent atmosphere which encapsulated them. The three wanderers had earlier that day sat out from Settlement 00002-1668-9, the smallest of the unincorporated habitation zones of Sector 6 (it used to be known as Hayden, but by the time our narrative begins, all but a few of the remaining population of Sector 6 could recall its original name.) Life in Hayden after the Great Reckoning remained much the same as it did before, only marginally affected by the ills and boons (what little remained, that is) of the outside world. Of course, by the time our story begins, most, if not all of the women had left the town, but statistically speaking, such calculations are hard to estimate--particularly these days.
VM-1236 found it hard to sleep tonight, not that he ever found the task easy. His pass through the northern part of Sector 6 had not been quiet. He’d attracted much, much more attention that he’d liked to have at the border crossing. He had to bribe several members of the Republican Guard to secure his safe passage into sector six (using some of his ammunition and regrettably the only copy of Abu Nuwas’ Diwan he had ever came across..) It would have course been in all of their own best interests to hand him over to the Amazonian Legionnaires--by far, they had more to lose than to gain from helping him out. However, it seems that the recent diplomatic tensions between the Islamic Republic of North America and the Feminist Federation of Columbia (mostly centered around the metal ore trade, and the ongoing border dispute in the unincorporated territories separating New East Damascus from Friedania) had at least in this case, seemed to work in his favor.
No matter. VM-1236 didn’t care much for politics, he never did.
He sipped his tea and closed his eyes for a few minutes. He had learned a most peculiar method of sleeping without sleeping some years ago. He needed every bit of rest he could muster for the journey to Sector 12 tomorrow.
The rays of sunlight pierced VM-1236’s eyes as he returned to the waking world. Clearly he had unintentionally dozed off, which meant that he was now behind schedule. The day was already off to a bad start. Hastily, he roused Kaiser, gathered his few material possessions (cookware, a blanket, a few storage tins, bottles and knives) holstered Regina, and destroyed his lean-to shelter. He, as always, was very careful to mark the location with a small cairn carefully located next to the nearest large tree in the event that he should have to backtrack or return. One never knows what fate has in store for the body these days.
The trio, man, beast, and machine were headed southeast on a trail that VM-1236 knew well. This path, encompassed much of the old portion of the South Eastern United States crossed by what was once State Highway 421 and was well known to all inhabitants of the Unincorporated Territories. Trackers, smugglers, mercenaries, and militias all traveled this path, as it was the quickest and one of the most trafficked routes running directly through the unincorporated territories between the border of the FFC in the east, to the edge of the Islamic Republic of North America in the West. As such, it was a roadway fraught with peril. No matter how many times VM-1236 had traveled this road, he always expected (and found) trouble.
The woods were brisk this morning, but the fog was rapidly lifting as a warm sun shown through the temperate forest canopy. Autumn was lingering, though it seemed that one feel the grasp of old man winter piercing the bones if movement ceased for too long. Fortunately, it was only the early morning.
Our trio had been moving through the woods with relative ease, alongside the old highway, when suddenly the mountain path they had been traversing made a steep drop into the hollow. As they stumbled through the dead and dying, but still thick overgrowth a curious anomaly greeted them. Before them about 2 miles down the mountain, stood a ruined, but surprisingly intact church. The steeple towered above the pines bearing the symbol of the cross, while the exterior showed burn damage, signs of pillaging, looted, and habitation?! From this distance, it looked as though areas of the damaged east facing wall had been patched with some sort of tarpaulin. A few of the ground level windows also showed signs of repair. Though a ruin, it seemed that the old place had seen some occupation at some point.
Though the trio was already running much later than usual on their departure, VM-1236 knew well that such a blessing could not be passed up. If a wretched wanderer in one of these god forsaken unincorporated territories was lucky enough to come across an abandoned house, let alone an abandoned church, they might just be lucky enough to survive for another month out here: candles, books, shoes, clothing, any one of these precious commodities would be enough to guarantee one at the very least a hot meal, and at most a good night’s sleep or safe passage. Not to mention the possibility of locating an additional shelter to mark out for future travels.
Cutting a path down the mountain and across a small creek, the trio approached the church. The building was larger than it had initially appeared, consisting of a large brick facade tapering into a wooden upper story with a shingled roof--typical of countless protestant churches across the Bible Belt. There was an old sign out front--no sign of the denomination was clearly visible, but there was some lettering still visible. The phrase: “MOTHER LOVES HER RIGHTEOUS DAUGHTERS, FIGHT FOR MOTHER, DEFEND THE DOGMA” was clearly visible. An ominous message, however, VM-1236 doubted any of Mother’s death squads had been here for a long time, judging from the looks of the place. Nevertheless, he had learned that it was always better to be safe than sorry these days. He shouldered Regina and approached the door.
He kicked the door in without any effort and immediately prepared for ambush. The scene was dramatic---if a bit anticlimactic. The church had apparently been reclaimed by Mother’s Sisters of the Dogma, but had been abandoned. Where once stood an altar, some typical portraits of blonde, aryan Jesus and his companions, and a niche for the cross high above, now were hung several slogans of the Feminist Federation of Columbia and aniconic images of Magna Mater, or simply, Mother: the charismatic face of the nation, and spearhead of the great reckoning.
Behind the pulpit where the altar would’ve been hung the icon of Magna Mater. The abstract symbol, as far as VM-1236 could tell, was meant to recall at once the stern, yet admittedly sensuous outline of a woman’s face, as well as the female reproductive organs. The slogans flanking the central icon more clearly revealed the age of the building’s occupation: “REDUCE AND MAINTAIN THE MALE POPULATION AT 10%” “LONG LIVE THE MATRIARCHY” “STRONG DAUGHTERS, STRONG SISTERS STRONG MOTHERS” “LOVE THY SISTERS” “DEMASCULATE YOUR SONS, DEMASCULATE SOCIETY” and of course “ANDROCIDE IS NOT MURDER, MEN ARE MURDER”
This church had no doubt been claimed by a cell of Mother’s daughters during the days immediately prior to the Great Reckoning--perhaps the Women’s United Radical Front or the Women’s Revolutionary Army. At any rate they had all disappeared, most likely migrated to the capital, or otherwise selected for migration by Mother to manage the few remaining industrial factories or one of the experimental farming collectives.
“Should be some interesting stuff here” VM-1236 muttered. He began to explore the church as Kaiser caught a whiff of something in the far wall. Proceeding down the central aisle, VM-1236 gazed at the unblinking idol of Mother, wandering what she would think of this andro intruding upon her House of the Dogma. He unceremoniously ascended to the altar and immediately began to inspect the pulpit. It was a treasure trove as expected--about 25 candles lay unused on the inside, as well as a copy of Presbyterian Hymns of Praise, and a couple of old church programmes. Remnants of the building’s past occupants. Atop the lectern lay an open book. The thick volume was open to page 322. VM-1236 inspected the page:
Matriarchal principles of organization and values are based entirely upon the collectivization of social morality, the equitable development of physical, emotional, and spiritual health, the equitable distribution of social wealth, and the de-masculinization of labor, which has come to define one’s worth as one’s productivity, and ones productivity with one’s profession, as in patriarchal societies of the past. Before the matriarchal society can take shape, we must first enact a radical de-masculinization of society to eradicate every systemic trace of the patriarchy from our governmental, cultural, and societal institutions. This necessarily entails the genetic manipulation of men to become more feminized in body, and thus, more feminized in thought and values, by inoculations, hormone therapy, and gradual dietary changes. This is the first step in our revolution. Feminize the agents of the patriarchy, then demonize those who cling to any vestige of patriarchal culture. These feminized agents of the patriarchy will serve as our allies and necessary agents in the second step of the eradication of the patriarchy--that is--
the door of the church flung open with a loud thud. Kaiser immediately began barking and emitting a low growl. Instinctively, VM-1236 ducked behind the pulpit and cocked his weapon. The unseen intruder made no noise when entering--the sound of shuffling footsteps--numerous footsteps-- far too many to belong to one human being, began to echo off of the surrounding walls. The footsteps were accompanied by the strange sound of clinking metal, and the growling and barking of Kaiser.
“there there boy, no need to fight, what is the matter” a comforting, yet coarse voice intoned. It appeared that the building was indeed inhabited, and that the inhabitants had returned home.
VM-1236 had been in this situation too many times before, but each time, it was different. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he gave a nano-second of though to his next move before he acted.
Posturing his body perfectly behind the pulpit--still entirely concealed from view, VM-1236 took aim at the icon of Mother and pulled the trigger. A dead hit, Square in the uterus, were one to interpret the form as the female reproductive organ. The bullet ricocheted violently as the icon shattered into three pieces, crashing to the floor in a violent clamor.
“TELL ME WHO YOU ARE OR THERE IS A BULLET FOR EACH OF YOU!” VM-1236 bellowed as he stood, shouldering Regina to face the front of the church.
Greeting him were approximately 25 robed individuals all male, each armed with an AR-15, locked, loaded, and pointed straight at him. Several were wearing belts of ammunition across their long white robes in a cruciform patter, all were crowned with diadems made apparently of ammunition. Five were bearing candles, one was bearing a most curious crucifix composed of two shotguns fused together at mid barrel, with a crude wrought iron image of the crucified Christ mounted upon them.
A large, stoic figure, crowned with bullets, stepped stoically, fearlessly into the aisle and began to walk towards VM-1236, rifle shouldered, a calm intensity in his eyes. His walk had al of the somber ritualistic appeal of a procession. VM-1236 could not be silent, he began to sidestep slowly to the right, dancing with the central robed figure in silence, while the fully armed congregation looked on, laser locked on VM-126. Kaiser continued to growl and whimper in the in corner.
As their clockwise dance continued, VM-1235 stepped off of the altar and into the aisle--the two were now both in the aisle, directly across from each other. The dance had ended.
Then, the beat abruptly changed---
The robed man de-shouldered his rifle, and presented it in a ceremonial manner to VM-1236, raising it upright, ad outstretching his arms. He then slightly pivoted, losing no amount of ceremoniality, and removed the magazine from his gun. stretching his arms out to VM-1236, the robed man presented his magazine, as if offering him to take it.
Semantically picking up on the significance of the gesture, VM-1236 followed suit. He removed his magazine and offered it to the robed man. The two exchanged magazines, before joining each other in a handshake.
“Peace with you, honorary brother of the Right,” the robed man stated.
“Peace with you” VM-1236 repeated.
The congregation lowered their guns.
“Welcome to our sanctuary” said the robed man.
VM-1236 had heard rumors of these men before. They were a protestant christian militia known as the Knights of the 2nd Amendment that really took it upon themselves to heavily arm immediately prior to and during the Great Reckoning, during which much of the American population was forcibly disarmed.
“Name’s .22 but you can call me Brother Anthony” the robed man said. “These are my humble and virtuous brothers in arms. What’s your good name, friend?” Brother Anthony asked.
“You can call me 36.” VM-1236 said. This here is my lady Regina, and that cowardly mutt over there is my hound, Kaiser.”
“What a blessing to have received such honorable guests on our first night in our new sanctuary.” Brother Anthony said.
“A man, a gun, and his dog are hardly honorable, and hardly a blessing, Brother” 36 replied.
“Your humility is certainly noble, if a bit misguided,” said Brother Anthony “Your mirth is refreshing, but please dispense with the unnecessary self-deprecation. You’ve already helped us with our renovations.”
36 looked over Brother Anthony, he was by no means a handsome man, not particularly well built, but he exuded a strength that came from somewhere more primal, more intangible that seemed to radiate into his physical presence and emanate like beams from his piercing gray eyes, perched below his shapely bald head.
Brother Anthony raised his right hand and head, motioning to the destroyed image of Mother. “If this is not a sign that your presence here is ordained by a higher power, my friend, I do not know what else is.”
“I don’t care much for the metaphysical,” 36 replied, “But I’ve got a long journey to Sector 12 ahead of me, so if you’ve any news from those parts, or goods you’d like to trade, lets get to it, as I’d like to be going.”
“Very well,” said Brother Anthony, “we’ll formally send you off, but first, lets consecrate our new sanctuary”
Brother Anthony motioned for the robed Knight bearing the rifle-crucifix to the dais. Two attendents followed him, while the other Knights began to systematically and carefully clear the sanctuary, laying down their sacks and rifles, and unpacking their belongings.
The three attendants, with the help of Brother Anthony, installed the rifle-crucifix in the central niche formally occupied by the idol of Mother. Upon the completion of this act, Brother Anthony led the congregation in a solemn verbal prayer:
“Our heavenly father, creator of heaven and earth, lord of the thunder, fire, and gunpowder, keep our resolve strong, our spirits full of your grace and mercy, and our rifles loaded. Grant us victory in the battles against Satan and her angels to come, and should we be taken in the fire of your judgment, welcome us honorably into your Bosom. Amen”
Brother Anthony then led them in a recitation of the 2nd Amendment to the American Constitution.
After this brief inaugural ceremony, the Brothers went about cleaning up the church removing much of the FFC residue, beggining what would no doubt be the long, arduous process of renovating the place. 36 conversed with them briefly, exchanging some iodine tables for a pair of shoes, a small frying pan for Ignatius of Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises, and, a a gift--was given a copy of the King James Version of the Bible. 36 also took the book laying on the podium, a curious tome entitled Femina Invicta: Dogma and Protocols of the Feminist Revolution and the Establishment of the Matriachal Society. 36’s nights were about to get a lot more interesting.
As an additional sign of the Brother’s hospitality, they gave 36 several additional rounds of Ammo as he prepared to leave the sanctuary. After around half an hour with the Brothers, 36 called for Kaiser and signalled his departure to Brother Anthony.
“I’ll be leaving now,” he said “ I have to make it to Sector 8 by tomorrow morning at the earliest, tonight if still possible”
“Then go with God, and our blessing,” Brother Anthony said, “My your arm be steady, and your shot be true”
“Thank you, brother, farewell for now” 36 said, as he, Kaiser, and Regina exited the church and began to walk down the old road back onto the mountain path that would lead them as far as Sector 7.
A man, a gun, and his dog, 36 thought. The holy trinity of trouble. What possible good could they do in this wicked, wicked world?
“Absolutely none, absolutely none” 36 muttered to himself. He gave Kaiser a quick pet, instinctively, grabbed Regina’s stock, as if reassuring himself she was still with him, and continued on down the road to Sector 7.