The Bad Shepherd

They told us everyone had to get out of their cars under the gorgeous blue sun and walk through this large, never-ending building if we wanted to get home. It didn't make sense to me and I saw the confused looks on the sheeple around me as we were herded through the doorway by very angry guards chained to their spots for life, never to see home again. They were going to make damn sure our lives were the same.

I knew it was wrong to go in but everyone else was doing it and I feared to be different. We were supposed to feel sorry for the evil ones and do as they said for once. To live would be selfish; make them happy and tell them what they want to hear. Sin for Jesus. You could think anything you wanted just as long as your thoughts weren't your own. This was the Final Solution.

It was nothing but pea green hallways as wide and bleak as bathroom stalls, daylight disappearing behind us. You could peek over to the next hallway but the mass of (in)humanity kept pushing you forward - if forward is even the right word for it. Really, you were just pushed along to God knows where because there was no way out once inside. Can you imagine the screams as soul after soul first realized its hell?

Like the newly homeless I heard shocked phrases of "This can't be..." and "This isn't supposed to happen!" Their education had begun; law-abiding, obedient cattle coming to find that, yes, they'd been completely abandoned by their fellow man. The fools sought to make their lives useful as soylent green suppers and so it has came to be. "I shall not strike down my child!" propagated a man in false defiance as he offered his child up in sacrificial tribute; suffocated lives vainly in search of worth in rigid hallways of hell.

The only thing breaking up the monotony of the monochrome walls was the advertising of the "xcorps" touting forbidden fruit you can never reach, always in the next hallway over but who knew how to get there? The xcorps ruled every inch, devising and predetermining the pathways for each trapped body. You could get angry and rebel, you could be pliant and thankful, you could do nothing at all - but nothing changed your destiny of doom.

I saw a girl in the next hallway over. I knew her once and still wanted her. I reached my arms up and over the wall but most I could muster was our hands momentarily touching. She tried to say something but she was swept away by the moving bodies. Did she want me or not? I'll never know. Fear, fear and more fear. Every face silent fear. Just keep moving along.

"The god is a fraud! The god is a fraud!" The voice sought to enlighten us but no one dared stop to  listen. Just trudge ahead in dread to a fate forlorn. We were doing what we were told, the "good ones" said the xcorps. But we had nothing left to give to the xcorps: we'd been used, not useful. Surely they would still value and cherish us, they would understand the inherent value of human life. Everyone needs a god they can trust.

I wrote a letter of apology to a friend I ran away from. But someone knocked the pen from my hand then hit me when I complained. Does anything mean anything in a place like this? I want to live! Why does that make me feel like a criminal? They told us everything had been decided. No need to think or feel. Just a room so large the end cannot be seen, its purpose not known or for us to even know why we couldn't go home. Long time since I've been home...

Panic started as water slushed in around our feet. But no one could do anything or go anywhere if they wanted to. "My baby! My baby!" No time for babies in the drowning halls. Some said the water was getting deeper. The faces I saw kept their eyes closed, praying to oblivion. Sick sycophants urge us to have faith, sweet words to seduce death. A raped woman fell weeping to the floor. She swatted my stretched out hand. "I deserved it, you fool!"

"I need you!" I cried out in vain. But the dead have no ears. Helpless shouts flood the halls when angry bees swarm in. No more flowers left to pollinate so they come to feast upon us. For the rest of my life I knew I'd hear those shrieks. Someone called it the "new abnormal". A wise voice whispered in my ear, "We should have slaughtered the Canaanites when we had the chance. Now there's no hope."

If you don't kill them they'll kill you

The water keeps rising but I pray against hope it won't drown me. Nothing I can find to think is thinkable. My mind compresses in on itself. The air is heavy with sanctioned murder. Far, far away faint laughter of contempt. How can this be happening? Will I see the sun again? I should have done what I wanted, goddamit! No man survives decisions of guilt, forsaking his future. Who am I to punish myself? Too late, too late. Unavenged I shall die.

Up ahead, a hole cut in the ceiling. A few intrepid souls climb upward. So shall I. I must have answers. I must see the sun once more! I climb quicker as I spot dear daylight above. What does it mean these choices we've made? I wonder. She thinks I don't need her but I do. This life is nothing but an act. How could she possibly believe I don't need her? Will I find her in the light? But it really was too late.

We'd been put on a giant floating metal barge, sinking into the ocean. I stood on the edge but when I looked back I could not see the end of it. I knew I had not the years left to walk its length. I heard the laughter once more. On the horizon a ship of Canaanites. We'd been purged among them, sent out to sea to die in willful futility. Like our own guilty gods, they wanted to keep more for themselves, now 47% fewer to have to share with.

I let myself follow a bad shepherd in misplaced trust. I thought I knew better but I feared too much the light upon me. What is this instinct that leads me to betrayal? What ancient sin do I carry? I feared like an abused child for her to know my pain. Now I'm left alone, adrift at sea, betrayed to the bad shepherd who demanded to let evil like a plague live among us, bereft of my wants and loves. I wipe my forehead. Blood is upon my hand.

***

On the distant ship, a gunshot. An excited voice declares, "We did it! The last dreamer is dead!"

Cheers explode from the lavish liner. They are the victors, the "lucky ones", the deserved of life. Into the sky an image is projected of the beast fatally wounded but living still. Taunting words floated across the waters to us. "Let the times of tribulation begin!" They thought they were speaking of us, not realizing only the dreamers could give their ship direction, now lost forever.

How many dead shall the cold waters consume?

But of the cities of these people, which the LORD your God does give you for an inheritance,
you shall save alive nothing that breathes; but you shall utterly destroy them.