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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1354165
More symbolic than any expression of freedom from the 60's was the Hitch-Hiker
Chapter1 [The Becoming]      The Spirit Trails that criss-cross the Old West can't be found on any road atlas or travel guide,they exist independently and without regard for asphalt and speed signs.Their sign-posts are a rocky outcropping here,an eroding mesa there,the blasted and contorted face-lessness of time everywhere.      To the uninitiated,they appear as an iconic face etched into sandstone cliffs,the gravity defying arrangement of boulders perched atop pedestals,the moving shadows that flow effortlessly across the desert floor.    The allure of finding the portal to walk as one with spirits has driven sane men to madness,and madmen to mesiahs,there bleached bones serving as a mute testament to those Pilgrims who paid the ultimate price searching  for immortality.    Rails was a patient man.He had merged with Mezcalotl years before,and knew intuitively that his long pilgrimage was about to meet fruition.Not that the journey hadn't had it's rewards.In the chaos of the 60's,he had amused himself with the self-proclaimed prophets of the time,scavengers who gorged themselves on the frailty and fears of others.In California,he had resided briefly with the Family,and it had been he who suggested that the Fountain of Immortality lay buried in the wastelands of the Mohave Desert.Their Messiah was already gathering slaves to amuse himself with in the Afterlife,when Rails invoked a drug induced vision in the collective schizophrenia of the Family.Straddling the precipice of a huge,rock lined pit that effectively contained a roaring fire,he listened as the Messiah took inventory of the days haul."Trixie,you liberated one fucking can of boston baked beans and a bottle of white wine from the Chink's grocery store,how many fuckin times I got to tell you that baked beans go best with red wine?"Trixie looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18 wheeler,as the Mesiahs eyes bored across the expanse of the fire and directly into her.The night was a bottomless black void,and the two dozen acolytes huddling around the warmth of the fire-pit could feel cold shivers slaking up their spines.To speak at times like this could provoke further rage from the Messiah,but to say nothing could often times be worse.Trixie was paralyzed with fear,so it was her part-time boyfriend and pimp,Gabbs,who spoke in her stead."Hold the phone,Chief,while Trix was working the wine cooler,I slipped over to the canned meat aisle and snatched us some vittles"Gabbs reached down into the pockets of his Army field jacket and pulled out several cans of sardines and anchovies.The flickering light from the camp-fire cast moving shadows accross Gabbs pockmarked face,illuminating the sardine can in his hand.Standing directly accross the fire-pit from the Messiah,he watched as His eyes absorbed the characteristics of the fire,morphing from  brown to yellow to molten orange."What the fuck you got there in your hands,Gabbs,fish-bait?"  The sardine can in Gabbs hand was growing warm now,his initial reaction was to hurl it into the fire,but it was allready fusing with his skin.The pungent smell of blistering flesh hung like an abomination in the air,sending the Colony into a frenzy.To his credit,Gabbs didn't scream,but the pain dropped him to his knees.  Rails,standing to one side of Trixie,and adorned in traditional white cotton peasant clothing and huarache sandals from Mexico,exhibited no emotion at all as the Messiah slowly walked around the fires perimiter and urinated profusely on Gabbs smoldering hand,sending a malodorous plume of vapor up into the air."Mother fucker,thought you could have your cake and eat it ,to?"  Trixie prostrated herself in front of her living Diety,and with head bowed,extetended the bottle of wine as an offering of mercy directly from her soul."Drink of my wine,and quench thy thirst" The mantra was echoed amongst the assembly,a collective offering of subjugation to appease an enraged God.  To interupt one of the Messiahs sermons was regarded as blasphemy,the burnt and gnawed human bones lining the fire-pit serving as a grim reminder as to the Cults potential for savagery. As Rails reached down and absolvingly waved his palm over the wine bottle clutched in Trixies outstretched hand,the anticipation of a carnal feast was nakedly visible in the faces of the gathered assemblage."Partake of My flesh,and become one with Me." Rails incanted,as in one blinding motion he reached across his body and slashed his left wrist.His blood blossomed from a profound wound,and merged with the white wine in the bottle,turning it's contents to crimson."No need to chastise Trixie now,Mesiah,here's your red wine to accompany your fish." The Messiah,looking on with contempt,responded;"This had better not be some snake oil,Rails,or your going to take Gabbs place groveling on the ground."  The Mesiah raised the blood offering to his parched lips,and took a long,deep draught,as Rails initiated a chant which reverberated throughout the Colony;"You are the skin that you wear,Messiah." The family took up the chant;"You are the flesh that you eat,Messiah."  To absorb part of the amphomorphism of Mezcalotl into the body is to become one with collective evolutionary divergence,it enhances the characteristics of the host that are most geneticly distanced from the norm...The Messiah dropped almost immediately to his knees,beseaching the star-lit heavens for intervention,as the mask of benevolence he wore sloughed off his face,to reveal the true spirit underneath,his piercing vermin squeal shattering the air,a cry of anguish and recognition of his real life form.But it was not the Cosmos that heeded his forlorn pleas,but his own congregation,they advanced upon Him with a determination born from years of communal suffering and degredation,and when the first set of teeth ripped through his skin,he knew that his damnation would be infinite,because eternity always hungers for that which it can never posess.  After satisfying there hunger,the remnants of the Colony ventured out into the night,free now of all constraints except the carnal lust which drove them,an entirely new lineage of Man,Canibalis Sapienses.  In the false light of the pre-dawn,amid the dying embers of the fire,Rails levitated from the Lotus position into which he had immersed himself,and looked down with adornment upon his creation. The tentative light cast dancing shadows across the prone form discarded at the fires edge,as though illuminating the entire image at once would be too much for even the earth to bear.A torso here,leading down to thighs which terminated abrubtly above the knees,a long sleeve flannel shirt with no hands visible past the cuffs,a face scraped surgically clean of any connection to humanity.  No sentinent organism could survive the trauma inflicted upon the Messiah,massive amounts of adrenaline would need to be forced into the compromised organs of the body in order to prevent catastrophic shock.Of all the amorphous characteristics inherent to Mezcalotl,regeneration of bodily appendages was the most vestigally pronounced..."Are You still there,Messiah?" The lidless eyes sprung open and pleaded for absolution."You nurtured your flock well,there devotion to your flesh was extrodinary" The lipless mouth gaped open and issued a silent scream." Funny how such an ordeal can enhance the appetite.Of course,I'm no savage,I prefer my meat medium rare." The torso flinched in spasms of aknowledgement,as Rails reched down and hoisted the remains above his head."These coals are just right now,I'm sure you'll agree that slow cooking is always best,it helps to retain the juices."
© Copyright 2007 hobojaime (hobojaime at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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