Chapter Seven

What to do? What in the holy fuck do?

The Prophet Samyaza stood at the window of his darkened office and stared into the desert through half-closed Venetian blinds. 

HONK! HOOONNK! 

“What is it NOW!?!” he roared through gritted teeth. The empty room didn’t answer back. “I always have to figure out everything myself,” he swore as he stomped out of the office.

*

HOOOOONNNNK!

Father Mike leaned on the horn of the old school bus he had commandeered from the parish grade school, but the chain-link fence didn’t retract. Martin piped up from the bench behind him.

“Didn’t they know you were coming?”

“No, but that shouldn’t matter.” 

HOOOOOOOONNNNNK! He gave the horn another long blow before pulling the lever to open the bus’s door. 

Father Mike leaned out the open door. “Come on! Open up, it’s me!” he shouted.

“What’s with the fence anyway, Mike?” 

Besides Martin, the bus was occupied by some two dozen of Father Mike’s curious parishioners. Everyone had been excited on the ride here, but the dusty trailers and tall fence gave them pause. Martin voiced their collective suspicion.  

“Hm. It is the middle of the desert. Keep the coyotes out, I guess?”

As if in response, the gate rattled and retracted. The bus sighed in pneumatic relief. It rolled through the gate and made a wide turn to the welcome trailer. Father Mike practically bounced down the steps into the sun. His enthusiasm was infectious. Despite the bleak surroundings and unfriendly welcome, the passengers filed out like vacationers at a tourist trap.

Father Mike leapt up the stairs to the trailer and grabbed a plastic bin under his arm.

“Welcome home, everyone! We don’t use cell phones here, so leave yours in the bin. Also, no shoes. If you want them, we’ve got flip-flops.” He scanned the crowd, making a quick head count. “I think we’ve got enough for all of you!”

A hand clapped Father Mike’s shoulder. A voice whispered into his ear, too low for the crowd to hear. “Mike, what are you doing?”

Father Mike turned to see The Prophet standing next to him. He beamed and responded in a voice that was loud enough for everyone present. 

“I went back to my church to meditate on what I saw, like you told me. The excitement just bubbled out to anyone I talked to. So here I am, and look how many people wanted to come with me!”

Samyaza glanced at the crowd. There were an awful lot of them. Father Mike took the opening to break away from the conversation. He walked to the edge of the porch, motioned to his flock with the bin, and placed it on the steps before returning to the chagrined prophet.

“I thought I told you to focus on Alice’s father.”

“I’ve been working on that. We actually had a fight.”

“WHAT!?!”

Thunk! Maria Cielo dropped her cell phone into the bin before Samyaza had a chance to express his anger.

“So this is where Alejandro is always running off to. It doesn’t look anything like I thought it would.” She smiled at Father Mike.

“Wait until you see the rest of it! The tour’ll start soon. I just have to talk to Sam for a minute.”

Samyaza turned on a dime. He swallowed his indignation, extended a hand, and flashed his brightest smile.

“Samyaza.”

Maria clasped his outstretched hand with unmistakable delight.

“Oh, you’re that prophet Ali always talks about!”

“Well, you’ll see. We’re really proud of Alejandro here.”

Maria turned back to Father Mike. “You were right, Father. This place isn’t scary at all.”

“I only hope your son doesn’t stop thinking it’s cool now that you’ve visited!”

“Ha ha! That’s how they are, aren’t they? He’s home now. Maybe next time we’ll come together.”

She left them to rejoin the other parishioners taking off their shoes on the porch. Samyaza’s cool failed him. He was dumbstruck at how much more successful this deluded little priest had been in a single week than he had been in over a year. 

Father Mike’s voice intoned through the stinging haze like it was carved in stone.

“I think I know the type of man Luis Cielo is. We’ll never get through to him by logic or appeals to his humanity.”

Samyaza seized on the point. Regained himself. 

“Of course! We isolate him!”

“Er, at first. If enough of his peers and loved ones are brought around, we’ll become normalized to him. After that, all he needs is to see the positive impact we have in their lives, but it may take a while. The man has a lot of pride.”

Samyaza stared at the priest. How could he possibly be this sharp and this naive at the same time?

“Mike, I want you to know what a good job I think you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Sam.” He actually blushed.

Samyaza drew himself up to his full height. “Please, Samyaza. Or Prophet. Especially in front of initiates.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not to me, but the respect you show me lends credence to our message.”

“Shouldn’t the message lend credence to itself?”

Samyaza threw his arm around Father Mike, confidently back in control. “Mike, don’t forget you’re only an initiate yourself. But an extremely promising one. As such, I think you deserve a reward. I’ll take care of showing your little congregation around Home Ranch. Why don’t you head over to the Galaxy Health Restoration Center and get yourself a massage?”

Father Mike’s blush deepened. “I don’t need any reward. Besides! These people came on my endorsement. I feel responsible for them!”

“I’ll take good care of them.” Samyaza turned his head and nodded to someone behind them before returning to Father Mike. “More importantly, you have to realize this isn’t Catholicism. We don’t believe it’s sinful to reap the benefits of your virtue. Brother Love!”

Brother Love, wearing the same cute, dumb smile he had last time, rambled toward them from the shadows at the side of the porch. Father Mike hadn’t even noticed he was there.

“Hey, Brother. Take this martyr down to the GHR Center and rub some of the stress out of him. Carry him there if you have to.”

The big man giggled. “I don’t think I have to do that, unless he wants me to.”

Father Mike’s face was pure crimson. He looked down at the wooden slats of the porch.

“No-o. I’ll go, I’ll go.”

Samyaza rapped Father Mike’s shoulder encouragingly. “Awesome. Remember, it’s a reward, not a punishment. You deserve it!”

Father Mike was embarrassed. Cowed. If this kind of hanky-panky was coming out of Martin’s mouth, he’d have stopped it dead before it started. From Samyaza though? From Brother Love? A meaty arm draped across his shoulders, and he was led toward the health center. He was powerless to resist. Jesus ... thank God it was only a massage.

Samyaza approached Father Mike’s parishioners with arms spread.

“Welcome Home, friends! You are so lucky to be brought here during such an exciting time!”

*

The door to the little room banged open and Father Mike stumbled in. Brother Love followed, bumping the priest further inward. He closed the door behind them with a quiet, irrevocable click.

The room was lit in swaying, scented candlelight. They covered the counters and cabinets that ringed the perimeter. A massage table took up the rest of the available space. It was warm. Ethereal. Uncomfortably intimate.

Brother Love opened a cabinet and busied himself collecting things from it. “Take off everything but your underwear  and lie down on your belly,” he commanded.

“I, uh, I don’t really think …” Father Mike stammered.

Brother Love turned and rested on the counter with arms splayed behind him. He cocked his head, smile ever present. “Don’t overthink it. I’ll be doing all the work. Just relax!”

The man returned his attention to the cabinets. Father Mike gulped and took off his black button-up along with his T-shirt in one clumsy pull. His shoes were already deposited in the plastic bin at the welcome trailer, but they might as well have still been on his feet with the trouble he had taking off his pants. He hopped as he yanked at them. Disrobed and bashful, Mike’s eyes darted around the room looking for a place to deposit his wad of clothing.on a metal cart next to the massage table. . Then there was nothing left to do but take his place face down on the table.

Brother Love closed the cabinet and returned his attention to his charge. A basket of oils and lotions hung from the crook of his arm. Noticing the mess of clothes on the cart, he picked them up, folded them perfectly, and laid them on the back of the chair near the door, all without breaking stride or putting down his basket.

“Would you like music?”

“S-Sure.”

He clicked play on a well-worn cassette boombox. Dreamy, melancholy music oozed out at a low volume. Father Mike hadn’t known that distorted guitars could sound so sweet. “Pack your suitcase up with sorrow, fly away with me tomorrow.” sighed the singer. 

Brother Love placed the basket on the cart he’d just cleared. He gently lifted Father Mike’s legs, removed the towel from beneath them, and draped it over the old priest’s ass and thighs. His lower half armored by terry cloth, Father Mike managed to relax a little. Brother Love squirted oil into his hands and rubbed them together. Without further hesitation, he drove their heels into the priest’s upper back and began kneading with vigor.

“Ooooh ... God,” Father Mike moaned. Stress and tension crumbled like loosely packed dirt. Thought melted away like a pile of mud in a rainstorm. Brother Love was really, really good at this.

“Your muscles feel like rocks. I bet you’ve never had a massage your whole life.”

“N-No. Of course I haven’t.”

“You say that like it’s some kind of vow you took.” He chuckled. “I dunno. I went to Catholic school a couple years and I don’t remember massage as something you guys have to give up. What was it? Poverty, chastity aaaand ... I’m sure that the last one wasn’t ‘no massages.’”

“It feels amazing.”

“Of course it does, I’m awesome.” Brother Love shifted to the other end of the table. “Now the feet. You wouldn’t believe how much tension people carry there.”

Father Mike mumbled in assent as Brother Love went to work on fleshy pads and gnarled muscles below his ankles.

“The calves too,” he purred as he moved up the legs. “And the hamstring.”

Father Mike tensed. The sensations were moving dangerously close to portions of his body hidden by the towel.

“And ...”

“Stop!” Father Mike pushed himself angrily on to his elbows.

“Stop what?”

 “What you’re doing down there!” He flipped over to face Brother Love. “I was afraid this was going to be more than a massage!” 

“Afraid or eager? Maybe both?”

Father Mike growled in disgust and scrambled to get off the massage table. Brother Love checked him with a single hand against his shoulder. With frightening strength, he slowly drove the older man back down.

“My sister had you pegged the minute you walked in here and didn’t give her a second look. We know what you are, and we don’t care! We want to make you happy.”

“What if I don’t want to be happy? It’s my choice!” Father Mike spat.

“How about I make it easy for you?” Brother Love’s smile retained all its goofy gentleness. “You don’t have a choice.”

Father Mike struggled in vain. The younger man was just too strong. He continued to pin Father Mike down with one hand placed directly on his chest. The other slid beneath the beige towel and began to ungulate like a heartbeat. Father Mike breathed in little gasps through his nose. Slowly, the futility of his situation became unmistakable, and the fight drained out of him. 

“See ... you’re not being bad. You’re the victim here.” 

The old priest shuddered silently. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. Brother Love slid off the table.

“Always so nice when we don’t have to take responsibility for the things that we want.”

He went to the sink and twisted the water on. Washed his hands and dried them. Twisted the water off again. He returned to Father Mike, who hadn’t moved, and ran his fingers gently through the old man’s hair. Father Mike couldn’t look at him.

“This room isn’t being used the rest of the day. You can stay here as long as you like.”

With a final caress, Brother Love got up from the table and went around the room putting out the candles. A dim, incandescent night-light remained on, illuminating the room from beneath one of the cabinets. 

“I’m always around if you want to find me again,” Brother Love breathed over his shoulder before exiting.

Father Mike didn’t know how long he lay motionless on the table, but it felt like a very long time. Slowly, he pushed himself upright. He picked up his clothes from the chair and put them back on. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open. Outside, the sun shone brilliantly. 

*

“And now on to our family’s crown jewel! The Galaxy Health Restoration Center!” 

Samyaza tramped across the wooden porch followed by Father Mike’s parishioners. Everyone was so absorbed in his spiel, Samyaza included, they didn’t notice as they walked past the man who had brought them here. Everyone but Martin Grant. 

Something was wrong with Mike. He leaned silently against the railing and stared into the distance. Martin peeled away from the group and approached his friend. He put his hand on Mike’s shoulder but was unsure if the man even noticed. 

“Mike, are you okay?”

“Yeah—I just ...” Father Mike’s hands tightened on the railing. “I just really like it here!”