One eye was blue.
The other eye was red.
Had I finally located the Antichrist?
I once belonged to a monastic order whose sole purpose is to find the Antichrist, take possession of him, and relocate him to a hidden mountain monastery in an undisclosed location, of which most of the brothers are ignorant. The goal is to protect the Antichrist, bring him to power, and end the world.
Yes, it is a Christian brotherhood, the Order of Bartholomew, holding fast to the tenets of our lord, and not at all in line with the goals of the Devil. Our lord is not Satan, but we do believe the world is beyond saving. Best to end it now and bring on the rejuvenation of existence and the cleansing of sin from the hearts and minds of the human race. We have monasteries in every continent and in most countries, but their appearances are far from traditional. The altar and sacristy are hidden below supermarkets, laundry mats, and many other modes of commercialization. Some are even located in government buildings, depending on the religiosity of the host nation and its willingness to cooperate.
There is the popular Bible and then there is the real Bible. The real Bible is composed of many more books, one of which is purported to have been written by the apostle Bartholomew. It is simply called Echthros, the Greek word for hated, or the hostile one. It is a book describing in detail the appearance and specific circumstances of the birth and life of the Antichrist. Whereas Jesus was born of a virgin, the evil one will be born of violence, the cause of his own mother’s death. There are many more details I will not bore you with at this time, but needless to say there is a comprehensive list of significant indicators that a certain candidate must meet to be considered the foretold Antichrist.
Our order was established in the year 1313 under the reign of Pope Clement V, not long after the death of Jaque De Molay and the dissolution of the Knights Templars. Legend has it that the pope had dreamed of his own death. The spirit of Jaque De Molay had invaded his sleep and haunted the essence of his soul. He had concluded that the world must end as soon as the Antichrist had made his appearance. In fact, he had even convinced himself that the Antichrist was not a particular person born of fate, but that anyone, with the proper training, could be made and reared to be the chosen instrument of annihilation. In his public life he ruled and led the Church to fight against the forces of evil and preserve the world against destruction. In his private life, he organized and summoned men to find the very force that would end the world.
The Echthros was copied and handed out to each monastery. Every monk of the order had memorized it. We have made it our life’s ambition to find the man of perdition, not to destroy him, but to shelter him and hasten the Apocalypse.
I myself live in America. My own prejudices had led me to believe that the Antichrist would come from the Middle East, or if I was lucky, from Europe. I wanted to be the one to find him. I am an Italian and I was sorely disappointed to find out that I would be living in America, a land removed from Biblical history. America, in my mind, would have no significant impact in the future. It would dwindle back down to a pioneer nation, ineffective and far removed from the drama to come. I only considered this as logical because I saw nothing in the Bible to make me believe that America had any relevance.
My ill-informed perspective was soon challenged by a twelve-year-old boy from Georgia named David Greene. His mom had died during delivery, and David was still-born, or so at least that’s what the doctors thought. They laid the child on a gurney and pronounced him dead. Ten minutes later he drew his first breath, details I myself have memorized from the Echthros: The child would be born dead, revived and possessed by Satan. The boy’s father hated and feared the child, abused and neglected him until the age of twelve, when David decided to end his suffering and stab his father through the neck while his father was sleeping.
I went to visit the boy at a maximum-security psychiatric hospital. Middlebrook was an ancient decrepit facility, lacking staff and resources to adequately care for its patients. The paint on the walls were faded and peeling. The lighting was dim, and the air was stale. It was the most depressive hospital I had ever visited.
“Father. Welcome.”
“I’m not an ordained priest. Just call me Stan,” I explained to the nurse.
“Oh, I’m sorry. They said you were from a monastery. I just figured.”
“No problem. Where is the boy?”
“The doctor would like to talk to you first.”
She led me down a long, narrow hall, turned right and went down a flight of stairs. There was only one office and a lobby filled with cheap plastic chairs.
“Just go through the doors. She’s expecting you.”
I don’t like to barge in on people, so I knocked on the door.
“I said just go on in,” the nurse demanded.
I carefully entered, hoping not to disturb the doctor. The room was huge and virtually empty. It looked like a classroom had been converted into an office. At the far end of the room was a large wooden desk. A tiny woman with grey hair was pounding on a keyboard, the sound of which echoed throughout the vast space.
“Father, come have a seat.”
“I’m not a priest.”
“Oh, sorry. I guess that makes sense. I don’t see the collar.”
“It’s alright.”
“Anyway. Welcome to Middlebrook. I hope it was easy to find and you were able to find a good parking spot.”
“Yes, yes. No issues here. Thank you.”
“Good. Let’s cut to the chase. I don’t like the idea of David having any visitors. It’s not the right time. He’s in a fragile state. What is your concern with him? I’ve never seen any other priest from your order visit this facility.”
“He has no godparents or any relatives to look after him. We have a registry of all baptized Catholics in this district. We just want to teach him the faith and help him with anything he needs… and of course, help the hospital as well. I am a psychiatrist myself.”
“I don’t think the family was Catholic. At least I’ve never been told that.”
Of course, it was a lie. I had no clue which, if any, denomination his family believed in.
“Well, he is. Look, I won’t be in your hair long. I doubt he’s receptive to any kind of religion right now anyway, but I at least want to try and to show him that people still care about his well-being. I want to convey to him that redemption is always available no matter what he’s done.”
She stopped talking and started looking around the room, I’m sure debating whether to allow me to visit or not.
“Follow procedures or you’ll never be allowed in this facility again.”
“Thank you. I appreciate this.”
“Don’t be shocked by what you see. He won’t let us cut his hair or trim his nails. Oh, and he has some weird condition with his right eye. It looks almost red. Nothing in his files about that. Of course.”
After listening to a brief synopsis of the facility rules, I was escorted upstairs to David’s room. The guard pulled off a huge key from his belt and opened the door. I walked in and as soon as I entered the room the door was shut and locked.
David was sitting on the bed with his back towards me. His black hair fell down the length of his back. He was wearing the standard white hospital pants and shirt. He reached up with his left hand and started tapping the wall with his long fingernails.
“Stan, that’s a weird name for an Italian,” he said, his voice sounding like an elderly man with emphysema. “Have a seat.” A chair on the other side of the room quickly slid to where I was standing.
As I sat down the lights went out. I was in complete darkness. I could hear David breathing. Suddenly, the light came back on and David was standing directly in front of me. He looked like a wild animal, with one blue eye, and one red eye.
“You see my red eye, as the Echthros predicted. You’ve come looking for the Antichrist, the Devil incarnate?”
“Yes,” I timidly answered. The voice unnerved me. I had seen a chair move by itself, and yet, it was the voice that disturbed me more.
“Well Stan my boy, I’m no Antichrist.”
“But you have all the signs.”
“I mean I am the Antichrist, but I just don’t want the gig.”
“You have to do it. You don’t have a choice. We can make your transition easier.”
“I don’t have to do shit. It is my choice,” he roared. The lights flickered off and on again and this time he was sitting in the corner staring at me. It was a menacing hateful stare.
“You see Stan ole boy I’ve read the book. I know the ending. The sooner I initiate the end of the world the sooner I get thrown in a lake of fire. Now, why would I want that?”
“It’s your destiny. It’s what God commands you to do, and I want…” I paused.
“You want to be the one that found me. You want glory. Pride, hmmm, one of the seven deadlies.” He wagged his finger at me disapprovingly. “That’s conduct unbecoming of a good Catholic monk.”
“Guard,” I hollered. I figured I had failed, and it was time for me to go. I located the Antichrist, but maybe a monk better than myself could convince him to fulfill his role.
The lights went out again and I felt the chair pulled out from underneath me. I fell to the floor. David jumped on top of my chest. The lights came back on and at that point he swiped down and scratched me across the face. He appeared to have two faces- a beast superimposed on top of an innocent child.
“Don’t call that motherfucker in here yet,” he growled.
“If you don’t want to do what you’re supposed to do then why keep me here? Let me go.”
“Oh, I’m leaving with you.”
“What do you mean? They’re not going to let you leave.”
He laughed. “I’m the fucking Devil. I’ll let myself out. You see Stan, your dumbass order has been summoning me for years, just hoping that one day I’ll finally become the big bad Antichrist they need me to be. Then they can dash on up to Heaven and let me commit genocide for God. You know, kill the shit out of all those unbelievers. But I’ll never do it. I’m happy with what you guys give me- a body and a purpose. I’ve been incarnated throughout the years: Ivan the Terrible, Jack the Ripper, Zodiac Killer. Not Hitler though. That one was all natural. I’ve been lesser-known killers as well. Sometimes I like to keep a low profile. Be a little less infamous, but this time is different. I’m excited to see what David Greene is capable of. Now who do we got to kill to get out of here?”
He went over and laid down on the bed. He started kicking and screaming for help. The guards opened the door and three of them flooded into the room. With his fingernails, David slashed the first guard in his neck and pushed his head back, almost decapitating him. The second guard he effortlessly threw against the wall, banging the guard’s head so hard that it broke his neck. The third and final guard tried to run back out of the room, but David tackled him, climbed up his back and bit into his neck. David’s mouth opened up like a snake and he snapped down around the entire length of the guard’s neck. He clamped down like a tiger and choked the life out of the guard. David stood up and smiled an evil bloody grin. He motioned for me to follow him.
I hesitated.
“Come now, or end up like them,” he said as he pointed to the bodies lying on the floor.
We walked through the facility, David killing a nurse and several random employees. The facility doors opened as he approached, and we walked to freedom. In the following years I have become his assistant, his unwilling helper, burying bodies and running errands. It is my penance, what I rightly deserve for what I had attempted to do. An apt punishment for my sin. I have tried to escape several times, but he always manages to catch me. Is that unexpected though? After all, he is the Devil.