Читать книгу The Tree Within - Stephen Campana - Страница 12

Kanye Balewa pulled his red Ford Sedan into the parking lot of the Red Robin motel off of route 9 in the town of Silverton, Illinois. It was a small motel, just one level, comprised of a row of about ten rooms, with an adjoining office off to the left. He got out of the car, retrieved a suitcase from the trunk, and went into the office. Behind the counter stood a studious looking young man with thinning hair and bifocals. The man said in a friendly voice “Hello sir, can I help you?”

“I need a room,” Kanye said, smiling. His pearly white teeth were a stark contrast with his black face. “Right away, sir,” the man said. He had Kanye sign in and pay, then he grabbed a key from a wall with a set of keys on it, each one on its own separate hook. “You’ll be in room ten,” he said, handing Kanye the key. Kanye took the key, left the office, and strolled down the row of rooms until he reached the last one—number ten. He let himself in.

It was a nice enough room: a bed opposite a dresser with a TV on it, a desk in the corner with a mini-fridge next to it, two nightstands on either side of the bed, and a closet just off the entrance. The bathroom was next to the closet. He put his suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. He took out some toiletries, and put them in the bathroom, then zipped up the suitcase, and put it in the closet. Then he kicked off his shoes, and laid down on the bed, his head propped up against the headboard.

This was not where he wanted to be right now. It was not what he wanted to be doing with his life. He was not a killer; he was a priest. But what did that even mean anymore? Did it ever mean anything? At first it did. He was a priest, a real priest at first. He knew who He was serving, and he was proud to serve Him.

And then, slowly, things began to change. The secret meetings, the private instructions, the things whispered in the dark by people who, officially, did not exist, about things that, officially, were not even real. But even through all of that he thought he knew whose side he was on. And even after he was told to kill Adam—even then he still believed he was serving God, and that his mission was to kill the anti-Christ. He was so blind! He realized now that’s why they chose him. They wanted someone they could fool, someone blinded by their ideals, someone so zealous for good, so committed to the church, and all it stood for, that they would not ask questions; they would not doubt.

But the doubt crept in. Gradually. That was the key word. The unseemly things of a religion—any religion—were revealed gradually, and only to a few. And by the time those few knew the truth, they were a part of the lie; they were invested in it; complicit, and that made it hard to back out, or to even want to back out, for that meant incurring the wrath of a system they could not possibly defeat, along with giving up their livelihood. It was easier just to believe what they told you and go along with the program.

But he knew. He knew who he was serving, who the entire Christian church was serving. At best, it was a thinly veiled secret among the church hierarchy, although those on the lower rungs would be shocked to know.