So, without further ado, here’s a chapter from the upcoming book. ‘Desert Rebellion’.
“Confession”
Showlow, Arizona; September 15, 2017
The early morning sunlight and the smell of strong coffee and toasted bread brought Maria awake. Shaking her head blearily, she blinked and looked around. Working her mouth to clear the taste from sleep, she mumbled, “Where are we? What time is it?”
Holding out the cup of McDonalds coffee, Ben replied, “We’re in Show Low. It’s about six thirty.” He indicated the dash of the truck, where a bag of food sat. “That’s for you.”
Gratefully, the woman accepted the coffee and took a sip. After a few seconds, she frowned and looked around. “Where’s Clay?”
“At Wal-Mart with the dwarf. The orcs are hiding in the woods outside of town.”
“Wal-Mart? Why?” Maria shook her head. “What for?”
With a shrug, Ben replied, “Dunno. He said he had to pick up some stuff. Electronics or something.”
Shaking her head, Maria muttered, “This just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” Ben pulled a piece of paper off of the dash and handed it to Maria. “Check this out.”
Scanning the paper rapidly, Maria read rapidly, then looked up with her eyebrows raised. “‘Fifteenth White Mountain Battle of the Bands and Food Vans and The Second Annual Empire Day celebration’? What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s a food truck and music festival. It also means lots of people, and worse- lots of elves.” Ben indicated the paper. “The back has a lineup of the bands-and either the indie music scene is way more infatuated with the elves than I’d thought or there are elven bands in this competition.”
“And we ended up in the middle of it.” She rolled her eyes. “And Empire day. Fuck me.”
“Yep. It starts today and goes through the end of the weekend.”
“Shit.” Maria set the paper down and took a sip of the coffee, thinking. After a moment, she observed absently, “You know, it might actually be easier to hide in a crowd than in the desert.”
Ben frowned, and replied. “Yes, but there’s also more eyes.”
“True.” Maria thought for a moment longer, then sighed. “Ok. So what’s the plan for today?”
“Me, Clay and the dwarf decided that the equipment was first, then we’d get a place to crash for a day or so while we get new ID’s, then we get out of town with the crowds leaving on Sunday afternoon.”
Thinking about this Maria was silent for a few minutes, then spoke slowly. “I’d still like to find the church, if we can.”
With a long, steady look at her, Ben was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I understand.” He pointed at the center of the truck. “Phone book right there.”
Wrinkling her nose, Maria replied, “A phone book. I haven’t used on of those in ages.”
“Same, but I don’t trust cell phones. If we can track them, the elves can too.” Ben replied, reasonably.
“You’re not wrong, but still.” Maria picked up the thick book and paged through it for a few seconds, frowning. A moment later, she looked up. “St. Rita’s. It’s at 1400 East Owens Street.”
Ben pointed at the glove box. “Atlas.”
Digging out the atlas, Maria scanned the map of the town, then tapped the page. “I got it.” She looked at Ben. “You ready to go?”
Draining his cup of coffee, the stocky man replied. “Yep.”
“When do we need to get the fellows?”
“Ten-ish. We have time.” He reached over and started the truck. “Which way?”
“Left on Main.” Maria replied, settling back into her seat.
***
Ten minutes later, Maria looked up from the map. “There.”
The panel truck pulled over on the road next to a paved driveway, leading to some low buildings in the distance. There were well tended bushes and manicured lawn visible. Bordering the driveway, a green sign stood, with both Elvish and English Script on it.
‘White Mountain Heroes of the Imperium War Memorial Park’
Maria looked at Ben, her face troubled. Impassively, he shrugged, looking around. After a moment, he said, “I can’t fit the truck in there and don’t want to attract attention by parking. I’m going to go get gas and be back to get you in about forty-five minutes. That ok?”
Her eyes locked on the signpost, Maria nodded wordlessly.
Ben regarded her for a moment, then added, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too.” The woman opened the door and climbed out. Ben watched her for a long moment, then put the truck in gear and drove away.
Maria stood for a long moment looking at the park, then walked down the paved drive. As she did, she let her eyes wander. About a hundred yards ahead sat the blackened, partially collapsed ruins of the church. The roof was gone and the steeple collapsed, and a low permanent metal fence had been erected around it. Throughout the church grounds, marble statues of elves stood, most in heroic poses, with small plaques underneath. The flower beds were meticulously maintained, as were the bushes and trees. The park was silent, save the chirping of birds and distant noise of traffic.
Her eyes wide, Maria made her way towards the burned ruins of the church, and stopped beside another plaque in front of the building. She paused to read it.
This church was used during the war as a center for rebel activities against the Imperium. It was destroyed in the battle to liberate the White Mountains and stands as it did when the war ended as a reminder of the folly of war and as a memorial to the Elven and Human Soldiers of the Imperium that gave their lives to free this land.
The front doors of the building were gone, consumed in the fire, and she could see the jumbled ruins of pews and the beams from the ceiling inside. At the far end, she could see the altar with the crucifix standing tall. Curiously, she noted that there didn’t seem to be any flame marks on the cross. She tilted her head, staring for a long moment and was startled when a male voice spoke.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
Turning in surprise, she saw a young man in a dark green jumpsuit, holding a rake. Behind him was a pushcart with gardening tools in it. He had a kind, honest face.
“I’m sorry?”
“The crucifix. There’s not a mark on it.” He gestured. “It’s really something.” He smiled wistfully, “I’m surprised the elves didn’t tear it down but I suppose they think it’s funny.”
“What’s funny?” Maria asked, curiously.
“That the crucifix didn’t burn but the people inside did.”
“Oh.” She looked at the plaque, then back at the man. “The plaque says they were rebels.”
“If by rebels you mean the Knights of Columbus and the Catholic Women’s Council’s Wednesday night meeting, then sure.” The man’s voice was neutral, as his eyes searched her face. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” He gestured around at the lawns and the burned church. “We don’t get many visitors these days.”
“I’m Maria.” She hesitated, then sighed. “I guess I was here to find a priest.”
Wrinkling his forehead, the young man asked, “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, why? The Church isn’t exactly illegal, but the Imperium doesn’t like them much. Too many priests caused trouble for them back in the war.”
“Oh.” Maria paused, then sighed. “I guess I wanted to go to Mass and hopefully get confession.”
The young man regarded her silently for a long few moments, then replied in a studied neutral tone. “Father Levy died in the fire, along with twenty seven others.” His eyes flicked to the ruins of the church. “There hasn’t been an official replacement sent by the Archbishop in Santa Fe yet.” He smiled crookedly. “Apparently he’s busy.”
“Oh.” Maria looked back at the ruined church for long moment, then sighed. “Thanks.” She turned and began to walk away.
Several seconds later, she heard the man call, “Wait.” Turning she looked at the young man. He spoke again, “Listen…” He hesitated, then sighed. “Shit. I’m not supposed to tell people this, but there’s a curate that comes around sometimes. He can help you.”
“It’s ok.” Maria shook her head. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“He’s not far.” The young man replied, confidently. “Follow that path there around the building and sit on one of the white stone benches.”
Staring at the young man for a moment, Maria hesitated, then nodded. The young man nodded back. Turning and walking down the main path, she came to a small, well tended gravel path. Stepping onto it, she followed it along the fence and through an arch cut into a hedge. The only sounds were the birds and the crunching of her footsteps on the gravel. Entering the arch in the hedge, she saw about two dozen small stone benches, arranged in a semicircular pattern around a small slab of polished marble, creating a mini amphitheater. Seeing a white stone bench, she sat down and looked around. The semicircle of benches faced the slab, and the hedge enclosed three sides of the small area; with the ruined wall of the church forming the backdrop.
Letting her eyes wander up, Maria gasped. The stained glass in the wall remained intact, depicting the patron of the church on her knees praying. The morning sun shining from behind the glass illuminated it in blazing, brilliant colors and the shape cast by the crucifix on the cast a magnificent shadow; making it appear as if the patron of the church was kneeling before the cross. Maria covered her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.
“Where ever two or three gather in my name…” A gentle voice spoke from next to her.
“I am there.” Maria whispered. “Matthew 18:20” She turned to look at the young man, who stood transfixed by the sight, before turning and smiling at her. “Who are you?”
“My name is Father Jonathan Whitman.” He leaned his rake against a nearby stone bench and offered a hand.
“I’m Maria.” The woman replied, shaking his hand, noting that it was rough, with calluses from the manual labor.
The priest sat next to her and spoke, “I’m originally from Tuscon. I was in town on vacation when the elves came, and was on my way here to Mass when this happened. I was late because I got lost.” He looked at the church, his eyes seeming far away. “There wasn’t anything I could do, so I tossed my vestments and pretended to be a refugee because the Elven Authority was hunting us for a long time. I thought we were abandoned by God and by the United States.” He shot a sidelong glance at Maria and continued, “When the city township decided to make this a ‘memorial park’ I applied for the job of groundskeeper. I didn’t know why. It seemed the right thing to do.” Maria nodded silently, listening. “Eventually, I started seeing the same people showing up, and I realized that if their faith hadn’t broken, why should mine? Then, one day as I was planting roses one morning, I looked up and saw it.” He gestured at the brilliant stained glass and the shadow of the crucifix and declared firmly, “I had seen it all at once and realized the truth. The elves can’t take our faith. Only we can do that. God is here for us, he loves us and is on our side.” He indicated the church. “They can burn our holy places and hunt us as long as they like, but they cannot defeat us for our ally is Jesus Christ and the God Almighty.”
Maria nodded silently, listening. The man suddenly smiled, broadly. “Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time the Church and the faithful have been persecuted, right?”
“Right.” Maria smiled at the young man. She hesitated, then asked, “How can you get away with this? It’s right under their noses!”
“Partly because they’re too arrogant to come in here and look, and partly because when the sun gets higher, that’s just a ruined wall with some soot stained glass.” He grinned, an easy infectious grin. “They think leaving this place in ruins and turning the church grounds into a memorial to themselves is humiliating and demoralizing.” He tilted his head at the window. “How very wrong they are.”
The two sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, the priest spoke. “So, you wanted confession?”
Maria hesitated for a moment, then replied slowly, “I think so, but more than that. I need guidance.”
“I’m here to do what I can.” The young man sat with his hands folded in his lap.
Pausing to collect her thoughts for a moment, Maria sighed deeply. Eventually she spoke. “At this point, it’s kind of a long story. I guess the bottom line is I’ve gotten pulled into the war and done some things I’m not too sure about.”
Father Whitman regarded her for a moment, before observing. “I’d been led to believe the war was over.”
“Apparently not for the people I’ve fallen in with.” Maria replied, seriously. She turned on the bench to face the priest. “Listen. I have a question.”
“I will answer as best as I can.”
“Do the elves have souls?” Her dark brown eyes bored into his intently.
With a sigh, the man answered, “I don’t know.” He looked down and sighed again. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person that’s come asking and I’ll tell you what I told the others. The church has no official position on the question of the immortal souls of the Fae.” He looked up and smiled wryly. “The arguments for and against were already favored late night discussion topics when I was in seminary.” He paused and laughed, “Except then, it was about aliens.”
“What do you think?” Maria persisted. “You have to have thoughts. You have to have an opinion.”
“Oh, I do. Plenty of them, but most of them are pretty abstract.” The priest hesitated, then added, “I think that if a creature is intelligent, capable of love and self reflection, and able to understand the concept of sacrifice for the love of others, they are capable of understanding and accepting Christ’s love and sacrifice and therefore salvation, so they must have a soul.” He chuckled and added, “But bear in mind, that’s just the opinion of one Jonathan David Whitman, junior parish priest.”
Maria looked back up at the stained glass window for a long moment, then spoke suddenly. “I killed one of them.”
“There’s a difference between killing and murder.” Father Whitman replied, calmly. “Without going too deep into the theology of it, killing in a just war like defending your homeland or freeing an oppressed people isn’t a mortal sin.”
Maria clasped her hands and let her head hang for a moment, then looked up. “It wasn’t in battle. We’d beaten them and they surrendered.” She met the young priest’s eyes, and said softly, “I took my knife and cut her throat as she stood unarmed and helpless.”
Father Whitman opened his mouth, then closed it. After a moment, he nodded silently. Maria continued. “I wasn’t thinking about my soul. I was thinking about how they took everything from me. Everything I loved in this world. My mother. My son. My home. Everything.” She looked back at the ground for a moment, then added in a brittle voice. “I hate them so very much. I wanted to hurt them and so I did.” She rubbed her palms on the knees of her jeans, then sat up straight and looked at the priest again. “And you know what? I’m not sorry, not even a little bit.” Her lips tightened for a moment, and she added, “And honestly, I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”
“Confession requires penitence.” Whitman replied gently. “You know that.”
“I know.” Maria sighed, and looked back up at the stained glass window. After a long moment, she looked back at the priest. “I guess I’m going to hell.”
“No.” The young man replied firmly. “God’s love and forgiveness is absolute. When you are ready, he will accept your penitence and forgive you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” The priest locked eyes with Maria. “And you know it too.” He took her hand, and said gently. “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” He patted her hand gently as her eyes filled with tears. “When your war is over, come back to me. I will hear your confession and we’ll return you to where you need to be.”
Maria nodded, not trusting herself to speak for a few seconds. Wiping her eyes, she asked quietly, “What if I don’t make it?”
“You will.” The young man’s voice was strong and compassionate. “The Heavenly Father and his Son Jesus Christ are with you and through the Archangel Michael will guide you to victory. Your cause is just, even if you slip along the way.”
Nodding again Maria sniffed, then looked up at the window. The sun had moved higher in the sky and the window was going dark. She indicated the kneeling woman. “What’s her patronage?”
“Saint Rita?” With a sudden, impish grin the priest replied, “She’s the Patroness of Impossible Causes.”
“Stop.” Maria let out a noise that was half sob/half laugh. “That’s…I can’t.”
Still grinning, the priest replied in a gentle, humorous tone, “If that’s not a sign that you didn’t come here by accident, I don’t know what is.” His smile faded, and he added somberly. “I’m going to pray for you and your companions.” He paused, looking at her closely. “Would you like to join me?
“Yes.” Maria replied simply. The two clasped their hands, bowed their heads and began to pray.
***
An hour later, Maria stood by the road, waiting for Ben, lost in thought. A glimpse of movement drew her eyes up, and she noticed a large black dragon in the distance, circling in the air before settling gracefully out of sight behind the trees. She shivered at the sight, and turned at the crunching of tires on the pavement. Seeing Ben in the panel truck, she waved. Moments later, she climbed into the truck and nodded at Ben.
Ben looked at her and asked, “Find what you were looking for?”
Slowly shaking her head, Maria replied. “I don’t know.” She looked at the man. “Maybe?”
With a penetrating look, Ben regarded her for a long moment, then asked, “How do you feel?”
“Better.” Maria admitted. “I didn’t get what I wanted, but I think I got what I needed.” She sighed and looked at the quiet, pine tree lined street, her eyes distant.
“Sometimes that’s how it works.” Ben replied, kindly. He put the truck in gear. “We can come back when we’re done, if you’d like.”
Maria looked at him and smiled, feeling a surge of affection for the somber faced man. “I’d like that.” She clasped his forearm and squeezed briefly as he drove. After a moment, she asked, “Where to next?”
Ben glanced at the clock on the dash. “Walmart, then to see that guy the highway patrolman told us about.” He slowed the truck and turned onto a larger street. “But first we gotta drop all this junk the guys loaded into the back earlier off.”
“Where?” Maria asked curiously.
“Someplace Clayton knew about. It’s empty but not abandoned.” Ben shrugged. “Not exactly a safehouse, but safer than being out and about.” He smiled briefly. “I get the impression these guys have a lot of places like this in the area.”
“Makes sense.” Maria replied. She hesitated, then asked, “What are we going to do if we find this…whatever it is we’re looking for before the elves?”
“I don’t know.” Ben replied, honestly. He fell quiet for a few seconds, then added, “I guess it depends on what it is.”
“What do you mean?” The woman persisted.
“I mean, whatever it is will change what we do with it. If it’s a spell book or something of power that we can’t use, we take it and drop it down a mine or burn it or something. If it’s a weapon, we get it to the resistance or use it against the elves ourselves.”
Maria sat in silence for a few seconds then abruptly stated, “If we can use it to hurt them, we should.” Ben glanced at her but said nothing. She continued, “I’m not just talking from my own pain, although that’s part of it.” She gestured out the window at the pine covered mountain town. “It’s because this is still the United States of America and these fuckers didn’t have the right to take it.”
“Yet, they did.” Ben replied, practically. “History is full of peoples and cultures taking what they want from those who can’t stop them. Look at Rome. Look at the United States, even.”
“Fuck Rome.” Maria replied, hotly. “We aren’t Rome and these pointy eared pieces of shit don’t own us.” She stared out the window for a long moment, then turned back to Ben. “If we can use it to hurt them, let’s do it.”
Ben considered this for a moment as he pulled into the driveway of a nondescript house in neighborhood tucked away in the pine trees. After a few seconds, he replied, “Ok.”
Her eyebrows furrowing, Maria responded. “Ok? That’s it? Just…ok?”
“Yeah.” Ben shut the truck off and looked at her. “What more did you want?”
With a frown, Maria replied, “I don’t know. An explanation, maybe?”
“Ok.” Ben responded. He stopped and thought for a moment, then replied, “It’s like…If I could have armed the Navajo with armored vehicles, tanks and modern technology back in the 1500’s, I would have. Maybe they could have held off the Spanish and been ready for the other Europeans when they arrived later. It’s possible it would have saved my people from their fate.” He shrugged. “Maybe this is like that.”
Tilting her head at him, Maria considered this for a moment, then responded, “So, you see this as potentially saving our people…As in the humans?”
“I think so, yeah.” Ben replied. He held up a hand. “Just remember, this might be nothing too. These stories of hidden artifacts are rumors, based on legends that are two millennia old. We may find nothing except the inside of an Imperial interrogation facility.”
He regarded her for a long moment. “We may only find our deaths.”
Lowering her eyes, Maria replied quietly, “I’ve already died once. Death doesn’t concern me.”
Ben regarded her in silence again. After a minute or so he spoke. “Then again, we may find this artifact of ‘great power’, and then the real challenge begins.”
Maria looked up, “What’s that?”
“How to hit them so hard they’ll never recover.” Ben’s eyes locked onto hers. “So start thinking- If Maria Hernandez from Phoenix, Arizona wanted to destroy a civilization, where would she begin?” His eyes twinkled, but his face remained impassive.
After a few seconds, Maria burst out laughing. “You’re a wiseass.” She put her hand on the handle of the truck door, then paused, “Ben.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” Ben turned and looked at her.
“For what?
“For being you.” She gestured around them. “For being a calm, steady presence in all of this. For saving my life.” She laughed, quietly, “For saving my life several times already.”
“You’re welcome.” Ben replied kindly, then added in a deadpan, “I’ll put it on your bill.”
Maria rolled her eyes, laughed and climbed out of the truck into the cool, pine scented air.
SPRING 2024