Stigmata, Part 1
First Church of Redemption, Ostrau, Silesia – January 5, 1996, 8:00 AM
“God tests our faith so that we may not take it for granted,” Reverend Faber said, "He gave us the Angeloi to test our strength. He gave us the Soviets to test our resolve. He gave us the war to test our faith and prepare us for the end of days. But I would like to save that for another day. I once gave counsel to a little girl. She was very distraught because her older brother, corrupted by godless equalism, had told her that Moses hadn't really parted the Red Sea. He said that high winds and strong ocean currents had been responsible. In hearing this, the faith of this child had been severely shaken. In order to restore her credence, she had but one question for me. She asked, Reverend, is there really such a thing as a miracle? Or are the stories in the Bible just make-believe, fairy tales. I assured her that yes, miracles really do happen. For did not Jesus not rise from the dead after three days and ascend into Heaven? Most people today tend to vest themselves in science and cynicism. They expect proof for all that they see, but miracles are wonders by nature. They need no rationale, no justification. You must witness the miracles of the Lord without question."
Faber raised his fists above his head and clenched them. Streams of blood trickled down and dripped from his hands. The churchgoers gasped and stood, staring in wonder at the miracle.
“My blood flows as a test of your faith,” Faber said, “Open your souls to the divine possibilities. It is then, and only then, that you will truly understand the awesome powers and the everlasting love and forgiveness of the almighty Lord. Amen!”
The churchgoers burst into applause as Faber retreated to his dressing room. He sat down and started adjusting his makeup. In the mirror, he saw the reflection of a well-dressed businessman, whom he had seen in the congregation.
“Yes?” Faber said.
“I was impressed with your sermon, Reverend,” the businessman said.
“Thank you,” Faber said, “I just wanted to tell these demoralized people that there is hope, now that the godless equalists are gone.”
“ I just want to tell you that some of us do believe,” the businessman said.
“I appreciate that,” Faber said, “It always does my heart good to know that I've touched at least one person.”
The businessman approached him. “Oh, I think you had quite an effect on a lot of people. Me, most of all.”
The businessman grabbed Faber by his throat and lifted him off the floor, slamming him against the wall.
4:00 PM
Angela and Anders knelt over Faber’s body.
“These ligature marks on his neck are consistent with rope or fabric burns,” Angela said, “Strongly suggesting he was strangled, but there seems to be an awful lot of blood loss here.”
“His parishioners said he was bleeding from his hands like the wounds of the crucifixion,” Anders said.
“Stigmata?” Angela said.
“The sign bestowed by God upon the righteous,” Anders said.
Angela checked Faber’s hands, which showed no signs of bleeding.
“I don't see any wounds here on his hands or wrists or otherwise,” she said.
“ No, I think this is a case of too much faith, which is a bit ironic given where we are,” Anders said, dabbing his finger into some “blood” and tasting it, “And too much sugar.”
“What are you doing?” Angela said. “Are you a vampire?”
“I killed three of them,” Anders said, "And they were psychological anyways."
“Sure you did,” Angela said, “I was conveniently busy when that happened.”
“Anyways, it's fake,” Anders said, “Just like the others,”
He opened Faber’s shirt to show tubes and a reservoir of red liquid.
“Wait, others?” Angela said.
“I've been tracking religiously motivated murders across the former Occupied Territories,” Anders said, “All of the victims have been so-called stigmatics and all of them have been frauds, like the Reverend here.”
“According to certain religious lore, at any given time there are twelve stigmatics in the world, representing the twelve apostles,” Angela said.
“It's a claim that's wholly unsubstantiated, though there have been many pretenders, eleven of whom have been murdered in the past three years,” Anders said, “Looks like this place has no shortage of faith, contrary to the stats.”
“Eleven?” Angela said. “Any clue as to the motivation?”
“I initially assumed it was a radical anti-religious splinter of the RAF, but I ruled that out,” Anders said, “ Either we're dealing with a psychotic religious fanatic who's hell-bent on exposing these kind of frauds, or a less programmatic psycho or equalist who harbors a murderous resentment towards the church, or maybe it's just a very disgruntled altar boy.”
“Well, that narrows down the field,” Angela said.
“Anyway, it's safe to say this guy carries a grudge, and if I'm right about one thing, the killer is here and he's looking for victim number twelve,” Anders said.
“I’ll get my Madonna tracks ready,” Angela said.
Fragopolis Elementary School, Eperies, Zips – January 6, 1996, 8:30 AM
A school bell rang.
“Alright, let’s settle down,” Frau Thiede said, “I trust everyone has studied his or her flash cards for today's quiz.”
The kids groaned. One of the students, Keven Kryder, shot a spitball at a girl.
“Geek!” the girl shouted.
Thiede noticed the incident immediately.
“Kevin Kryder,” she said, “I assume, Kevin, that in the last 24 hours, you've become quite the math wizard. Why don't you come up to the board and share with us your gift of numbers?”
The other kids laughed and pointed at Kevin as he walked up to the blackboard.
“Let's try some division,” Thiede said, “You do know the division sign, don't you, Kevin? Let's divide 11 into 170.”
Kevin picked up a chalk and started writing. As he did so, blood appeared on his fingertips. Looking over, he noticed his chalk had blood on it. He dropped it and turned to Thiede.
“Ewww!” the kids shouted. “Blood!”
“Mein Gott!” Thiede said.
School infirmary – 9:30 AM
Angela and Anders walked into the infirmary and greeted Carina Maywald, from the local social services office.
“Thanks for contacting us so quickly,” Angela said.
“When I read the Athanatoi's alert, I thought immediately of Kevin,” Carina said.
“You said on the phone that there had been a previous incident,” Angela said.
“Last year,” Carina said, “Kevin arrived at school with bleeding wounds on his hands and feet. Our first concern is always an abusive parent. We have plenty of those here.”
“Was that the case?” Angela said.
“Well, it appeared so, at least at first,” Carina said, “Kevin's father was arrested, and we took the boy as a ward of the court. But the state dropped charges for lack of evidence. The mother sued and won custody. Herr Kryder was institutionalized soon after.”
“Institutionalized for what?” Anders said.
“When he was released from jail, he locked himself and Kevin in the house,” Carina said, “Made all the local papers. He was waving a gun at the police, saying he had to protect the boy, that Kevin was chosen by God.”
“Let me talk to you for a minute here ...” Anders said, taking Carina aside.
Angela walked over to Kevin’s bed, where a nurse wrapped a bandage around Kevin’s palms.
“How's he doing?” Angela asked.
“Fine,” the nurse said.
“Hi, Kevin,” Angela said, “My name is Angela Hansen. Can I talk to you a minute?”
“Am I going back to the shelter?” Kevin said.
“We don't know just yet,” Angela said, “Right now, we have to find out what happened. Can you tell me how you got those cuts on your hands?”
“No,” Kevin said.
“No, you can't tell me, or no, you don't know?” Angela said.
“You want me to say my Dad did it,” Kevin said.
“I don’t,” Angela said, “I don't want you to say anything that isn't true.”
“Frau Hansen, I don't feel that good,” Kevin said.
Angela placed her hand on Kevin’s forehead.
“He feels a bit feverish,” Angela said, “Like he's burning up. Did you take his temperature?”
“No, I didn't,” the nurse said, putting a thermometer in Kevin’s mouth, “Open.”
“You're a very brave boy, Kevin,” Angela said, “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
Out in the hall, Frau Kryder approached Carina and Anders.
“Where's Kevin?” she said. “Is he alright?”
“He's doing just fine,” Carina said, “The nurse is just changing his bandages.”
“Oh my God!” Frau Kryder said. “I thought this was all over.”
“Frau Kryder?” Anders said, holding up his badge. “I’m Anders Humboldt with the Athanatoi.”
“The Athanatoi?” Frau Kryder said. “Who called the Athanatoi?”
“We're here because we have reason to believe that Kevin may be in some danger,” Anders said.
“In danger from what?” Frau Kryder said.
“As strange as it might sound, someone may be targeting people like Kevin,” Anders said, “Targeting people exhibiting wounds that might be interpreted as having religious significance.”
In the infirmary, the mercury in the thermometer shot past 103 degrees. As the nurse handed Angela a cup of water, the top popped off. Angela stared at the broken thermometer. She had never seen that happen before. She and the nurse looked at Kevin.
“I didn't do anything,” Kevin said, “It just broke.”
In the hall, Frau Kryder continued talking.
“Kevin's just a normal kid,” Frau Kryder said, “He probably just hurt himself out on the playground.”
“I'm sure there's an explanation, Frau Kryder, but right now everybody's primary concern should be for Kevin's safety,” Anders said.
“I'd like to put him back into the shelter until we can sort this out,” Carina said.
“You don't think I did this to Kevin,” Frau Kryder said, “You think I'm the one who cut his hands like that?”
“We don't know how he got the cuts, but we'd like some time to evaluate his case, Frau Kryder,” Carina said.
“I would never hurt my own child, do you hear me?” Frau Kryder said. “Now, I fought a battle over my son before, and that tore my family apart. And I'm not going to fight it again.”
She stormed out. Carina rolled her eyes.
“I love my job,” she said.
Anders, however, just winced. He turned to Angela as she left the infirmary.
“Let's get out of here, Angie,” Anders said.
“Did she say something?” Angela said. “People here aren’t as politically correct as in the western provinces, you know.”
“She tore her family apart for her son,” Anders said, “Just like my mom did for me and Anna.”
“Listen, Anders, the kid's hands were definitely cut,” Angela said, “Have you determined how his hands were cut?”
“No, not yet, but my guess is that the kid did it to himself,” Anders said, “The boy has his father taken away. He hurts himself to relieve his dad of guilt and to get him back.”
“Maybe we should talk to his father,” Angela said.
“He's in an institution,” Anders said, “You know I don’t like institutions.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Angela said.
“Reminds me too much of…well, you know,” Anders said.
“Well, the father said he needed to be protected,” Angela said, “Maybe he knows from whom. We should see if he has anything.”
Anders sighed. “Fine.”
Konare Mental Institution – 11:00 AM
Michael Kryder sat up and looked at Angela and Anders.
“He's bleeding again, isn't he?” he said.
“Yes,” Angela said, “How did you know that?”
“Because the faithful know,” Michael said.
“Herr Kryder, the claims you’ve made for your son may have put him in danger,” Anders said, “Do you know that?”
“He was in danger long before I ever made the claims,” Michael said, “Since the day he was born, they’ve been watching him.”
“Who?” Angela said.
“The forces of darkness,” Michael said, “They will come in the form of a powerful and respected man. They want to claim all souls. You must understand, this is the great war between good and evil. God will find someone to end it. Someone who is strong enough to make the sacrifice.”
“He's chosen you?” Anders said.
“I'm merely a messenger,” Michael said, “One who has in turn received the message from another messenger.”
Anders turned to Angela. “Let’s go, Angie, this guy creeps me out.”
They turned to leave.
“You must come full circle to find the truth,” Michael said to Angela.
Angela turned back. “I don't know what that means.”
Michael smiled. “You will.”
Wenceslas Home for Children – 9:00 PM
The kids gathered around Kevin, listening intently to his story.
“The two kids are running down this long hallway,” Keven said, “But all the doors are locked. There's nowhere to go. Soon both will be toast. They can hear his bloody leg dragging on the floor. The mutant is on their trail, hungry for the taste of young meat.”
“What's it look like?” a kid asked.
“You really want to know?” Kevin said. “It looks like the devil. And he's bald, because all his hair has burned off in hell. And his fingers are like pitchforks - little barbs on the end. So all he has to do is point at you, and you can't get away. With each step, he gets closer. Step by step by step. He's so close now that even the furniture starts to shake. Step by step by step.”
The door opened, and a large bald man entered the room. The other kids saw him and scattered, but Kevin calmly remained in his chair, holding up his hands.
January 7, 1996, 9:00 AM
Anders and a police sketch artist sat down with the kids.
“What color hair did he have?” Anders asked. “Was it brown, or blonde, or ...”
“He was bald,” one kid said, “He didn't have no hair.”
“'Cause it all burned off in hell,” a second kid added.
Anders stood up. “How tall was he? Was he about my height? Taller, shorter?”
“Taller,” the first kid said, “And he was dressed all in black.”
Anders nodded at a shelter employee, and the staff cleared the kids out of the room. Angela, meanwhile, noticed a bloody palmprint on a piece of fabric as Frau Kryder walked in.
“What happened to Kevin?” she said. “Where is he?”
“Kevin was abducted from this room,” Angela said, “Several of the children witnessed it. We're getting a description of the man who took him.”
“But you were supposed to protect him,” Frau Kryder said, “You said he would be safe.”
“We're sorry, Frau Kryder,” Anders said, “We're doing everything we can. Angie…”
They moved to the corner of the room.
“Did you get a composite?” Angela asked.
“Yeah, looks like Kevin was abducted by Homer Samson's evil twin,” Anders said, showing her the police sketch, “D’oh, or should I say, D’ohne?”
“This isn't the killer, Anders,” Angela said.
“I agree,” Anders said.
“No, I mean it doesn't match the MO,” Angela said, “None of the previous victims were ever abducted.”
“None of the previous victims were ten year old boys or actual stigmatics,” Anders said.
Frau Kryder walked up to them. “Is this the man that took Kevin?”
“Yeah,” Angela said, “We're not sure how accurate that is.”
“It’s Oskar,” Frau Kryder said, “Oskar Junge. A friend of my husband. He did our yard work.”
Oskar Junge’s house’s attic
Oskar showed Kevin a small carving of a bird, along with other carvings of animals.
“I carved them all myself,” Oskar said, “It's Noah's ark. Do you like it?”
“When are you going to take me home, Oskar?” Kevin said.
“There’s no reason to be afraid,” Oskar said, “I’m not going to hurt you. We’ve been watching you, Kevin. You’re a very special boy. You know that, don’t you?”
“I want to go home,” Kevin said.
“It’s not safe yet,” Oskar said, “I’m your friend, Kevin. You have to trust me. Think of me as…your guardian angel.”
He heard a car pulling up and looked out the window.
“Don’t say a word,” Oskar said, “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed a shotgun and went down the stairs. As he ran to the front door, Angela kicked down the door and stormed inside with Anders, weapons raised.
“Imperial agents!” Angela said. “Put down your weapon! Put it down right here! Down, now! Put it down!”
Oskar put down his shotgun.
“Where’s the boy?” Anders demanded.
Oskar didn’t answer. Angela walked around him to search the house.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Oskar said to Angela.
She found the rope for the door to the attic and pulled it open, climbing up.
“Kevin?” she said.
The attic was empty.
9:15 AM
Angela forced Oskar into a chair in the attic and handcuffed him to it.
“Where's the boy?” Anders asked. “What have you done with Kevin?”
“He can't go home,” Oskar said, “It's not safe there. I told him that.”
Anders shoved a blood-stained towel in Oskar’s face.
“Is this Kevin Kryder's blood?” he asked.
“Yes,” Oskar said.
“Did you hurt him?” Anders said.
“No, I'm not the one that wants to hurt him,” Oskar said.
“If it's not you, then who is it?” Angela said.
“I was only asked to protect the boy,” Oskar said.
“By who?” Anders said.
“By God,” Oskar said.
“God!” Anders exclaimed. “That's quite a long distance call, isn't it? Wonder how much it cost.”
“You don't understand, unless someone protects Kevin ...” Oskar said.
“It's the end of the world as we know it, right?” Anders said.
“He who has ears, let him hear,” Oskar said.
“And he that has a tongue, let him speak,” Anders snapped, “Now tell me where he is!”
Oskar looked at Angela. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Angela took out her Walkman and played “Like a Virgin” from Madonna.
“My religious convictions are hardly the issue here,” she said.
“But they are,” Oskar said, “How can you help Kevin, if you don't believe? Even the killer, he believes.”
“And townsfolk wonder why I sleep in on Sunday,” Anders muttered.
“Mass on Christmas, fish on Friday,” Oskar said, “You think that makes you a good Christian, don’t you? Just because you don't understand the sacrifice, because you're unwilling, don't think for a moment that you set the rules for me. I don't question His word. Whatever He asks of me, I'll do.”
Oskar stood up and tore the handcuffs with his bare hands. Angela and Anders raised their guns at him.
“Sit down, Herr Junge,” Angela said.
“I just want to go back to Heaven,” Oskar said.
He threw himself out the window. On the ground below, he got to his feet and started running. By the time Anders and Angela ran outside, he was nowhere to be seen.
Kryder residence – 8:00 PM
Kevin walked through the front door.
“Mom!” he called. “Mom! Are you home?”
The doorbell rang. Kevin turned around and looked through the peephole, seeing a well-dressed businessman outside. He fled into the house. At the front door, there was a scraping sound, and the doorbell glowed red hot before falling to the floor, smoldering on the carpet. The door opened, and the businessman entered.
“Kevin?” the businessman said. “I know you’re here, son.”
He walked upstairs and over to a closet. He opened the closet and looked around, noticing a large wicker basket with blood around it. He picked it up, and Kevin glared at him. The businessman’s eyes turned pitch black. As he reached for Kevin, Oskar appeared and tackled the businessman to the floor. Oskar turned to Kevin.
“Run, Kevin!” he said.
Kevin ran down the stairs. Oskar continued struggling with the businessman, but the younger businessman had the advantage. The businessman pinned him to the floor, and drew a silver-colored angel dagger.
“You want to see Heaven again, angel?” the businessman said. “Let me help you.”
The businessman stabbed Oskar with the blade. He screamed as light emanated from his eyes and mouth and the angelic energy in his body was released. After killing Oskar, the businessman stood up and headed to the stairs, but he stopped upon hearing the door kicked open again. He looked to the window and jumped out.
At the bottom of the stairs, Kevin ran into Anders and Angela, who had just walked in.
“Kevin, what is it?” Anders said.
Kevin pointed upstairs. Anders ran up the stairs, where he found Oskar dead. On both sides of his body, the image of angel wings were scorched into the floor. Meanwhile, Angela checked Kevin’s bandages, seeing bloodstains on the back side of his hand.
“Are you the one who was sent to protect me?” Kevin asked.
