"Were they locusts or were they not?"

"Laird. Your grace. It was a shadow in the sky. But I... I ain't rightly sure."

Something wrapped around my feet. I tried to get it off, but quickly fell victim to the broken mess that was my body. Where am I?

"God loves his children. Ugh." My head wasn't acting on any command I was giving it. My legs were dangling on something, blood flowing to my head. What is-

Something on four legs darted into view, mouthing something I couldn't decipher in my current state. Why is everything upside down? What happened? I fell off that railroad bridge, then everything went black. I'm dead. I should be.

"I'm sorry, your grace, I'm sorry, I'm-" The animalistic silhouette was cut short by a flaming arrow right in its noggin, plunging onto the ground as swift as it moved. Ah, shit! I swung my head upwards to spot the blubbery branch suspending me in the air by my torn up trousers, a short distance away from the ground.

Light. Heavy footsteps soon followed after the quick death of the strange figure, their flashlight shining at the fresh corpse with a disinterested fashion.

"Sorry."

The owner of the flashlight soon emerged into view, staring at his fresh kill with a casual composure. He seemed to be at least seven feet tall, slightly in a hunched state and covered with bloody rags all over his body. But who is...

"His suffering is done. Knoth's words were true." ...the baby on his back. He speaks. But he looks like a two year old toddler, riding the hunched giant and mounted on a saddle, covering the parts of his body down his waist. He pointed his tiny index finger towards the sky, up at the railroad bridge where I fell down from.

"Momentous times are upon us." After admiring the sights of the beautiful night, they, or at least the giant, walked off the view, muttering something under his breath that I doubt even the midget understood.

They're gone. The bridge. The mines. Fuck! I fell down. Oh fuck fuck fuck! Lynn, oh shit! LYNN! I was almost there, I was so close. My wife. She's still in there, probably enduring all kinds of torture they were giving her. And I'm just here, dangling off a fucking branch and managed to screw up the final thing I had to do in order to save my wife.

I need to see how long I was out for. Not in this position though. Okay, get the fuck off me! I began to wiggle around aimlessly, hoping to unlodge this piece of wood strapped on my ankle. It quickly came off without taking much of a beating, sending me plummeting down into the dirt flat on my face. Ouch, shit. Nothing compared to what I just survived though. I hope the brief ruckus I made wasn't enough to attract the midget and the giant he rode on. The last thing I need is to make new acquaintances who wanted drip blood out of me in hope that their god prevails. Not again.

My possessions didn't land too far away from my crash site either, both sitting idly against the ground, seemingly unscathed. I picked the machete up first, studying the rusty blade for a moment before placing it on my waist. The camcorder wasn't too damaged either, just blue screened because of the sudden impact. I gave it a swift whack in the battery port to jumpstart it back to life, the camera instantly showing some random recording instead of the home screen. What the hell? I don't remember recording this. When did this happen?

I curiously pressed the play button, leaning back against the trunk of a random tree and watching the recording unfold before my eyes. Oh god. I was recording?! I got to watch the moment of chaos for a second time as my past self got held up by that human figure made up of locusts, and promptly tossed me away into the depths of the woods. The audio gave a violent thump as my mangled figure crashed against the branch, the camcorder flying out of my pouch and spinning around a few times before the recording stopped.

Soft chills went up my spine as I stopped the recording, slowly staring up at the branch that saved my life. Oh fuck. Thank you. I let out a dissuading chuckle in response to the whole ordeal, glancing at the gigantic columns of the railroad bridge. I'd almost say it was a miracle. I should've been very dead meat, I should've been. Nobody is that lucky. Absolutely nobody. Yet I keep getting out alive from situations which would easily kill the average person. I don't consider myself very athletic, or particularly strong, but it happens. Somehow. And I'm grateful for it. But me surviving that fall sure as shit seems like an act of god. Fucking locusts.

Actually, I should do a voiceover for that accidental recording. It's obligatory at this point, and the context wouldn't make sense without me explaining it.

"I don't know how many of them got in my mouth. My skin wouldn't stop itching. They were trying to lift me up."

The overbearing silence of the forest caught me by surprise. Absolutely nothing happening. No gore, no screams during the moment of death, no hanged bodies. Nothing. Just plants and trees, living in harmony with each other until eternity.

Before these shitsticks came in and fucked that up.

They're still killing their own. Nobody sane was down in this forest, just more deranged followers of Knoth slaughtering because they feel like it. Oh fuck. That means more crazies after me once I get spotted. Oh no, no no no no no... Fuck!

No way but forward. I've gotta find an alternate path to the mines. But the only way is through the railroad bridge. No, There has to be another path. This is a huge natural forest, not a goddamn town. I just have to follow the direction the bridge is pointing to. Not too hard to do.

The recently slain person stood under an especially long pine tree, the burning flame on the arrow long extinguished. Who the fuck were they? I mean, after Marta and Val, they don't seem too far fetched, but still. They killed the shit out of this guy. His face was slightly crispy, but otherwise covered with red scars. It took me a second to realize the person had red scars all over his body, covering him like skin. Oh god, the fuck?! Fucking gross! Who did this to him?

A lone rumpled paper sat on the red scarred person, showing signs of writing as I snatched it into my hands and began to read. The writing was chunky as hell and the grammar was something out of this world, but it was just barely readable enough that I was able to translate it all.

My Dere Simeon,

You ben mor then cousin to me sinse we was little childrun an I hope youl help now that im in som trubl spesially on account its to do with medisin. I will jus say plane that I am burnin with sines of the sifilis an afrade I will be sent to liv with them Scalled wich I am terible scaird an hateful to do. An I nown well taint saif to fuck nun but Papa Knoth sinse God an Jesus protecs him from all siknes on this werld but God an Jesus dont protec me nun so I need yur help.

God Bless an keep you,

Athaliah

Simeon? I recognize that name. That's the same guy who got asked about medicine, back in the power generator room in the village. He said a body doesn't need penicillin. This guy says he is burning with signs of Syphilis which is a disease cured by penicillin, and that he is going to be sent to live with the Scalled because of that.

Holy shit. It makes so much sense. The 'sores' they were talking about aren't injuries, they are Syphilis! Disease. That's what the Scalled thing represents. Knoth sends diseased people to the Scalled, which is presumably in this forest. The guy who wrote this letter was talking to Laird, their leader. I remember him calling one of them Laird, then getting an arrow to the face. So that means Laird is the midget with the bow and arrows, the one who fired that flaming arrow, The leader of the Scalled. In his letter to Knoth, he talked about the 'fist of my mount,' which is most likely the giant. Oh fuck, that means they know about the whole outsider thing, and they're gonna figure out who I am as soon as they set eyes on me.

Oh shit.

But who's making them sick? The letter talks about Knoth being immune to all diseases, but that's obviously bullcrap, so there has to be another reason. The letter in the generator room talks about supplying Knoth with penicillin and the like, getting it from the outside world. Syphilis is a sexually transmitted disease, so that just leaves the possibility that Knoth is literally fucking random women and giving them STD's, then sending them here once they get sick, and cure himself of the disease with the penicillin the cultists supply him before getting infected again. But what's making him continually sick?

I know we ain't got a better thing to cover the taste in the water

Maybe that's it! The water reserves are filled to the brim with Syphilis, and it's making everyone but Knoth sick because he hoards all the medicine for himself. But then why isn't the rest of the town sick? Okay, damn. I thought I was getting somewhere. But still, I uncovered a lot from that one letter. Just hope I can carry that knowledge to the 'outside world.'

These trees certainly look like they mean business. The time read exactly 3:13 AM, signaling my need to hurry up. I need to find something like a ravine so I can follow where it leads. I'm not doing anything by strolling around this forest except wasting time and the power left in my camera's single battery. It's almost out of juice, and I very heavily doubt I'll be able to find batteries in this place of nature. The giant Laird rides on uses a yellow glowed lamp, but that's probably gas powered. Fortunately this place is wide open to the moon reflecting the light from the sun towards us folks who are facing away from it. The sun has become such a foreign concept to me that I'm having trouble recalling how it felt to get hit by its temperate sunlight, sunflowers tilting their heads up in response. Fuck, I miss my house.

In my path soon appeared a shallow stream, rushing to whatever current was the most dominant. It's my best shot to stay on a linear path instead of wandering around aimlessly. Just hope it doesn't lead to where the Scalled live. Water always attracts civilization, and especially one that is so primitive relative to the modern world.

My battery power display in my camera began to to flash red, causing the NV to flicker in and out. Come on, hold out a little bit longer. I'll find some batteries for you, I promise. An empty promise, but one that I want. Crouching past a fallen log, I noticed the stream getting wider and a bit deeper, along with the start of faint moans sounding off in the distance. I know you're not sane, fuckers. Can't fool me this time. I swept away an overhanging branch out of my way, causing the tree to go berserk like I just tore it in half. Calm down shithead, I dealt with enough in one night.

Okay, the moans are getting more louder with every step I take. I need to be careful. I just wasted a lot of time plummeting down that bridge, but I still have a few hours left until dawn. I need to get there before Knoth's followers do. If the Heretics can't defend her... I heard with my own ears what they'd do to her, probably gut her stomach and drive their filthy machetes into her neck once they find out her stomach is empty like any other normal woman. I'm still grateful that I managed to get out of their town alive with my whole body intact. I just hope I can say the same for Lynn once I reach her.

I came to a rock hard halt as I noticed something crumple under my boots, stepping back a feet to see what it was. A lonesome paper, stashed near puddly human remains. Okay, I'll read it, but these people really need to fix their handwriting if they are going to be writing letters. Fortunately, this one wasn't a letter, just scribbles of frustrated and angry feelings shaped into words.

THIS FUCKWORM MISTOOK HIS BLESSINGS FOR SICKNESS AND TRIED TO LEAVE AND I BROKE HIM. DO NOT MAKE HIS MISTAKES OR COMMIT HIS SINS, GOD AND HIS PROPHET LOVE YOU.

Okay, by the handwriting I can tell that it is Laird who wrote this letter, both by the overly big letters and the corpse he left behind. Holy fucking shit. This thing doesn't even look like it was once whole. Tried to leave? Shit. Is he talking about trying to leave the Scalled? Why would he be so angry then? I thought that Christianity was supposed to be people treating each other with love and support, guiding them to Jesus. Although it's long established that these... meat bags who look like humans aren't devout Christians, but followers of Knoth's cult. My distaste for Christianity started when I was expelled from St. Sybil for something I didn't commit. Loutermilch was there, telling me I wasn't evil, just confused. And that I didn't need to hide my sins, to come out with it. He damn right knew what he did. Bastard!

I scoffed as my camcorder went completely dead, shutting down on its own and leaving me in the darkness without night vision. Fuck.

A bit forward ahead, the hasty assemblage of a few giant boulders was waiting for me. Blocking off the whole path like a malevolent god commanded them to. Okay, this doesn't seem too problematic. Someone already made themselves a way past. I quickly aped up to the tall tree split apart from its trunk, resting on the top of the boulders horizontally. Whoever did this also needs knows how to balance, as my sorry ass almost lost balance and face planted on the ground. A few of the tiny branches off to the side slowly began to splinter apart in their place, thankfully not doing the deed themselves before I made my way past and jumped down to the other side.. Okay, onwards.

These so called people of 'Scalled' aren't nowhere to be seen. This is their land. Their home. They know it better than me. More cobblestone and pebble, mixed together and blended into one. I felt the very oxygen the trees gave out in my skin, brushing past my body like a tidal wave from the North Atlantic. More trees knocked over to the ground, a few acting as a blockade in my path. The runt wheat stalks had their carbohydrates crunched under my rotten boots as I walked over them, kneeling and getting ready to squeeze under the logs. The only open space I could crawl under was also directly on top of the shallow stream, forcing me to soak my clothing in order to get through.

Eugh, this water tastes like copper. How is any of this shit even drinkable? They sure must spend a lot of time cleansing-

My mouth stayed under the water as I watched something skim past just a feet away from me, resembling a breeze of wind whirling past. Oh, god... I choked back a thin whine, trying to keep the pile of bricks restrained up my ass. The stalks were still rustling from the sudden disturbance, taking a while to revert back to their normal state. It took me a few moments to get my bearings straight, trying to fully comprehend what just happened. That scared the fuck out of me. Goddamnit. I quickly crawled the rest of the way without missing a beat, twisting towards the direction the figure was headed for once I was on my feet.

Gone. Probably off to the depths of hell. Okay, I'm not alone out here. Good to know. A little bit ahead were more trees and twigs knocked over, preventing me from progressing the pathway normally. The only way past was to crawl through a hollow tree log, acting like a bridge for ants over the shallow stream that I got a little taste of earlier. Okay, please don't give out under my weight. I got down to my knees before extending my arms out to the log, feeling its coarse surface scratch my skin.

What the fuck was that? An abrupt thunk shook the whole log, sending me down a spiral of a million curses under my breath as I hurried up my ongoing crawl towards the end. Aw shit! Another one came from under the log, rocking the trunk like it was out for a drive through rough terrain. I hurried up to my feet as I shot a swift glance behind, finding nothing but just silence. Okay, onwards. Probably just my weight shifting the thing around.

I took a subtle notice towards the sudden change in intensity of the stream washing my boots, now wide enough to hand out some of its water to the bordering grass. It began to lead me to the right while there was an open path to the left. It was my only way forward unfortunately, seeing as the right path encompassed... well, nothing pleasant.

SICKNESS HERE

GOD BLESS

You could say that about this whole place.

Recording

"Sickness here. God bless. These people were rotting even before they were murdered."

Ugh, fuck! The chain link fence with barbed wire on top stood like the symbol of all my problems on this dreadful night. Horrid stench, random limbs hanging about, a person gently laying dead on the barbed wire. Delightful. The fence didn't let anything but the shallow stream through, and it was also conveniently the way I needed to go if I was to get to the mines.

Bad luck after bad luck. Shouldn't have spent it all while I was in Temple Gate.

God fucking damnit. There's gotta be some other way around. Left it is. I quietly made my over to where the left side went, almost immediately coming upon a set of rocks continually leading me downhill with every drop. No problem. With every cascade, my knees got a bit worse, but my desire for Lynn quickly snuffed it out like a faint candle, letting me drop down the final set without stumbling or letting out a grunt.

Okay, tight path through the depths of a ravine. Not bad. I let the cobblestone and dirt crunch under my feet as I felt around the pitch black area, very much feeling the lack of my NV guiding me through as usual. My camera wasn't completely dead yet, only the extensive functions gone because of their need for a lithium battery. The rest ran on normal ones which last like a few days. Sometimes I hate physics.

"Trust... in... God."

I'm not even gonna ask. Another man, filled to the brim with red scars all over his body. Laying on the ground with agony written all over him. Flies were concentrated around him like he was a corpse, probably picking him clean piece by piece. God. He didn't pay any attention to me however, but his focus was instead on the paper situated just out of his reach.

"I'm going to give this to you later, just need to read it for a second." As much as I knew he was a mindfucked religious zealot, I still felt bad for the amount of suffering he was going through. No one should endure something like that, especially not a disease with such an easy cure like Syphilis.

Welcome to this place of spiritual healing! You are scared and you are sick. As you should be. And you are filled with shame. As you should be. You know that you would not be here if not for your own sins. But I can make you wonderful and pure again.

When all this sickness first erupted and crusted in Temple Gate, Papa Knoth in his wisdom and kindness recognized it for the spiritual affliction it was. Don't believe those crooked and frightened others if they tell you you're sick with the Syphilis or the Gonorrhea or any other outer world lie. This is a sickness of the soul, and only by purging your soul will you find health.

Stay true and stay obedient to God and to Papa Knoth and especially to his Deacon, Laird.

God and his prophet love you.

Oh fuck. Knoth has created an entire STD camp just so he can keep on busting a nut, and Gonorrhea? It's not just Syphilis, it's fucking Gonorrhea and Syphilis mixed! I shot a worried glance towards the sick cultist, tossing him the paper and promptly stepping back a few feet to get away from him.

I can easily contract this shit just by existing. That's why the water tasted weird. Oh god, does that mean I'm already infected?! Fuck no! Can't be. No, must be some other reason or something. The water in Temple Gate also supposedly tastes weird, and they aren't sick. That's it.

Hope to god that's it.

The universe didn't agree however, and was trying everything it can to make sure I got infected. Shallow water, leading to a crawlspace which was my only way forward. I made sure to check if there was any other way before kneeling down, putting my head as far away from the water as I could and began to crawl through. My lips were also clasped shut in case any water that got sloshed up didn't find its way into my mouth. Come on...

Fucking gross. Random chunks of flesh stood around me, spreading their foul smell across the air and into my nose, some even light enough to float. I kept my steady distance going until I reached the end, standing up and immediately reaching for my camera to scout the surroundings.

Oh shit. I began to keep low in retaliation to the moans in proximate distance. A campfire was roasting the hasty assortment of fish eviscerated on a pike, turning into a crispy meal for the grotesque person sitting alongside them. He had his palms pressed against each other, waiting patiently for his food to cook. They look kind of tasty, but I can't let anything originating from here reach my innards. That's a one way to ticket to death town if I don't get the right treatment.

Is he friendly? They're sick. They're suffering. I don't think fighting against them will be such a problem, but still. Some of them are strong enough to stand up, and numbers always manage to beat singular strength and willpower if they are numerous enough. My mind reflected back on the midget shooting down one of his followers in cold blood, causing me to wince physically with the impact of the arrow. I need to watch out for them.

I won't find out if they are friendly by just standing around. I'll take a risky shot in the dark and walk up to one of them. Unsheathing my machete from the side of my hip, I kept it out of visibility, my instincts begging me to retrace my steps back to the tall grass.

"He will... He will descend on a cloud of locusts. To cure us our ills. The penitent scalled."

Oh god. Her voice sounded like an old granny with her lips removed, the red scars on her body constantly causing her itches. All kinds of cuts on her body, I guess from all the scratching with her unhealthily long fingernails. Eugh, fuck! Stay away from me.

"He will descend. For our dominion."

More moans sounded off from behind her, inside that wooden house. Shit, more are here. I found where they live. Their town. Thankfully they weren't eager on chasing me like their cult brethren from Temple Gate, who were probably off to suck on each others dicks to celebrate my departure.

"Scalled Christ. Our Christ. Please, God. Please."

I finally managed to stray my eyes away from the campfire, examining the wood pieces underneath supplying them fire. A sick couple were hugging each other resided on a tent, both in a sleep state harder than of a rock. I'll end up like that if I continue to stand around here. Get moving Blake.

"Let him be arrived. He will descend."

You keep on waiting. I decided against exploring that house, however tempting it may seem to be. I followed the path along to the right, passing by another woman with nothing on but panties. She's washing herself. Startled at my sudden arrival, she immediately went to cover her breasts, looking at me with begging eyes. These women were supposedly raped by Knoth, then dumped here for their 'sins.' Ethan talked about his wife getting Scalled too, which means rape. Also did the same to her daughter and demanded to cut open her stomach so he can kill the potential Antichrist inside.

Come to think of it, a lot of those people who wrote the letters I found while I was wandering around in the earlier hours of this night seemed like they were the victims of Knoth and his lusftul hormones. One husband told his wife to find comfort in the arms of Papa Knoth, which probably implies more sexual harassment. Lisa, who wrote that weird letter that talked about wanting to be with Papa Knoth was probably giving him permission to fuck her, so at least some of them gave consent.

So those screams Lynn gave out when she was in Knoth's church...

You hear Knoth up there? He's doing something nasty with her. The Antichrist is sure to be emerging from her womb.

He fucked my wife?! I eagerly ransacked every nook and cranny in my mind to find an insult worthy enough to throw at Knoth, but fell to failure. How could you?! You practically ruined her, you fuck!

I hadn't noticed that I was beginning to take steps forward while I was getting angry over the raping of my wife, failing to notice the figure breeze in from around the corner and promptly spill his guts onto my overalls.

"Agh! God, fuck!" I quickly freed myself from the restraint put on me by his hands, driving my machete into his chest before unlodging it back and kicking him to the ground. He rose his head upwards after inspecting his wound, staring at me with an expression I couldn't make anything of before turning to continue on with his duties.

Ugh, fuck! The front of my parka was completely ruined, the camcorder pouch just out of the reach of the greasy puke. Wash it now! I practically hurled myself at the rippling stream flowing to the right, extending my arms out to the water like an old friend and flinging its water onto my top like an offering from Jesus.

"This is a mercy."

I watched in bewilderment as the man who spewed his innards on me instead belched his load on the stream I just used to wash myself with, a few small quantities of blood coming out along with acid. Fuck! I turned to look at my clothes once again, trying to restrain myself from freaking out. The puke is gone, but I'm not clean. Bacteria, Protista, whatever Syphilis and Gonorrhea is, it's on me. Traveling on my clothes and searching for an entrance into my body.

More diseased stood at the end of the stream, which ended in a shallow cave. They were bathing themselves and each other. Hastily collecting the water between their palms and thrusting it upon their face.

"Be my brother. Burn clean."

Surrealism began to travel up my spine, getting into my brain and popping something inside like it was popping a champagne.

Okay, what the fuck was that? I need to move. I quickly snatched a soaked piece of paper swimming along the stream, dropping it on the ground before zooming in with my camera and starting to read. It was a Gospel of Knoth chapter, and one I haven't read before.

Chapter 4

1- Hear the prophet Sullivan say: I feared greatly to hear the voices of the Lord, and denied Him in shame and heavy lamentation, rending the hair from my chest, even by the roots, so that blood marked my shanks as blood marks the cunt-passage of a beast born to toil.

2- And the Lord made known to me in words unspeakable, saying despair not, but open yourself even to me as a wife opens her cunt to her husband and rejoice in creation.

3- Your shame is not your own, sayeth the Lord, for I am but sore displeased with your fathers.

4- As ye thrive unjustly in the usury and treasure of thy father's toil, sayeth the Lord, so to do ye unjustly share in the righteousness and shame of thy father's deeds, yea, only your blood is your own.

5- Therefore, o son of man, sayeth the Lord, turn ye onto me, and I will turn onto you.

6- Turn ye from your evil ways, turn ye from your unsired rutting, take not pleasure in women unmarked by their natural blood covenant with the Lord, but fuck and multiply as the act was designed of the Lord.

7- And I am very sore displeased sayeth the Lord, with the Gentile, and with the Heathen, and with the Pharisees of my gifted nation Zion, who take ease in their affliction, and turn they away from the teachings of the prophets.

8- Therefore, sayeth the Lord, as thine blood is thine own, and your deeds undone, open yourself to me, for the burden of the word of the Lord is thine.

9- Therefore as the Lord God commanded that I open mine eyes, I did, and did see.

Nothing I can piece together. Except the word 'Heathen.' It's used by cults to name whoever doesn't practice their religion so they can kill them. I assume Knoth is talking about the outside world with that statement. Too bad we don't worship your imagination.

More houses and tents along the way. It's good that Laird takes such good care of his town. Really makes me appreciate him for the great guy he is, I say as I stare down a person with his legs missing, cowering in fear inside his tent.

"I have been penitent. Please. Cure me. I am. I am penitent, I am. Please, Lord."

Are they talking to me? No, probably to the lord. My way forward was to strain my legs a little by walking up this path leaning upwards. Okay, nothing I can't-

"Laird demands more wine."

From up the path came running a person fully on his feet, slashing one of his cleavers towards my face in an attempt to get me out of the way. His sudden appearance had me leaping backwards down to the ground, my lungs forcing a pained cough as I watched the man sprint towards the way I came from.

Moans coming from right near my ear had me jolting up to my feet in an instant, shooting a look behind to see the two sick cultists lay near a campfire. Who would leave them rotting like this? I mean, it's obvious but why? Every one of these guys might've been born in a healthy household, had parents and siblings love them for what they were and take care of them. They would go to schools, and have normal friends and live normal lives out of the command of a cult leader seeking an orgasm. They'd become engineers, doctors or even perhaps someone who could've contributed a great deal to humankind as a whole. But they're here. In an STD camp out in the middle of nowhere, lacking any sort of healthy bond between themselves another individual.

Could say the same about myself.

I carried on towards the path leading up, coming across another shack with a mountain of piss flowing out from an opening under it. A perfectly normal battery stood floating on the filthy urine, reeking with the same stench that filled everything solid, gas and liquid in this god forsaken place. I can't pass it up, sorry immune system. I quickly snatched the Morin brand battery into my palms, letting it dry on my clothes for a bit before inserting it into my camcorder.

The camera gave a soft click before kickstarting back to life, the battery meter now full with both the microphones and the NV perfectly usable. Nice, okay. Just hope any left over urine doesn't mess with the camera. I was giving up hope that I would be able to find any more batteries before arriving to the mines, but it seems that these fuckers are fond of flashlights as well.

Actually, is there any more inside? I'll take a quick look. Without coming in contact with the piss of course.

"You knew the judgement of God, and they which commit such things are worthy of death."

I watched in silence as another disfigured person unlocked the front door of his house and stepped out, shutting it back without locking it after him.

"To not only to do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them."

Oh, fuck. There's a letter inside on an easel. It's another Gospel of Knoth chapter. Shit! Do I risk it? It's not worth it, but I need to read that... Fuck it. I sneaked over to the front door without attracting any hostile attention, flicked it open and lunged at the paper as swift as I snapped a picture of it and hauled ass back to the pisshole. Did I make it? Okay.

Chapter 9

1- And the hand of the Lord took me by the roots of my innards and put a hook in my jaw and lifted me away from the bones of the dead Zion and the shit of Publican swine.

2- And in the murk of outer dark I became as a cloud that covers the land and saw many things:

3- I turned my mind upon the desolate pasts where the history of the Lord should have been writ.

4- I turned my mind upon the coiled and ignominious now of a great prophet beaten and spat upon as a manged cur.

5- And finally God turned my mind to the future, of a dark and wonderful burden, of my blade at the throat of the Antichrist child, of my children drunk on the blood of those who would poison the word of the Lord.

6- And I flew as ravens four hundred miles west, across the land of the Havasupai, who recorded Noah's flood as the work of Hokomata.

7- And beyond Hokomata's wound that rent this failed Zion, God set me upon a very high mountain.

8- Then the Lord said cover your uncircumcised eye that you may truly see.

9- I placed my hand over my immaculate eye, and the Lord spilled such vision into my split and bleeding orb, as man issuing seed into the split sex of a blossomed woman.

10- Then said He unto me, here is your Temple, and here is your Gate.

11- And the dimensions, materials, and labor of Temple Gate was made known to me.

12- And the hands of those who would build Temple Gate were made known to me, and their faces, and their hearts.

13- Their hearts were filled with fear, but their hands would be willing, and their eyes would see the glory of His kingdom come.