Where do I get these these bizarre character names from? By the way, by the time you read this there should be some more art work uploaded on my profile so go check it out. For those wondering, that is a 'drowned' featuring on the art of Jobe page.

For those who have been following 'Ave Maria', the next chapter should be up very soon.

Chapter 15: A Question of Faith

The only thing that saved the head that poked out from between the row of abandoned cars from being blown off its shoulders was the fact that Jobe had emptied the last cartridge into Wrath's chest.

"Whoa!!" The figure fell out from its hiding place, scrambling to his feet as Jobe lowered the shotgun gun, trying not think how close the man before him had come to going up the pearly gates.

"No need to do something you'll regret." The man held his hands, complete with long, brittle fingers that seemed to bend off at odd angles in a desperate sign of peace.

"Oh man," Jobe let out a lengthy sigh as he massaged the skin of the bridge of his nose and the man cocked his head somewhat, as if trying to get a better view.

"Hey, are you okay?" There was something European about his accent and going by looks, Jobe guessed that at school, the man's physic had earned him names such as 'bean pole' or 'the amazing rake kid'. The guy looked like a skeleton dressed in a thin shirt that stuck to his slender frame under the weight of melted snowflakes. His jeans seemed to be defying gravity to stay up around his nonexistent hips. Even his face looked skeletal, with over-pronounced brows, a sharp chin and eyes that seemed too large staring out from rings of purple coloured skin. The guy didn't look as though he'd slept in the last ten years.

"Yeh, just a bit jumpy I guess…"

"I can't blame you," He let out a laugh that seemed to get caught in his nose as he scratched at his closely shaved head, coated in a thin fuzz of black stubble. "I saw you take down zat thing. I would have done something to help but…" He trailed off with a shrug and Jobe didn't blame the man. From what he tell, the guy wasn't armed. At best, the German (Jobe had finally managed to place the accent, it had been driving him mad) could have thrown himself at Wrath and provided the beast with a tasty, if not to meaty entrée before it finished off Jobe.

"Well, I survived." Jobe could have kicked himself for saying something so unbelievable stupid but the man just threw back his head and let out another of those nasal laughs. That was when the little voice that had been silent for a blissfully long time decided to let it be know that it had prevailed through out the ordeal.

'There's something not quite right about this guy. When you first saw one of those…monsters, you practically shat yourself while Hans here just laughs his head off.'

Jobe silenced the voice. He was just paranoid after the one person who seemed friendly enough had…well, tried to kill him.

Jobe realized that he'd been staring at the man for long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. In an attempt to pass himself off as not a complete psycho, He blurted:

"So, what's your name?"

"You can call me Casper," Casper replied offering his horribly distorted hand, grinning like a naked skull. "And you?"

"Jobe." He responded, taking the hand in an awkward handshake. As his own closed around Casper's, he felt the brittle bones creek and grind under a thin membrane of cold skin. Jobe found himself relieved when their hands broke company.

A beacon of hope suddenly ignited Jobe's mind.

"Hey, have you seen a guy come this way? With blond hair, he may have been injured; we were in a car crash and_" Jobe found the words crumple like dead leaves, lost to the wind when Casper closed his eyes. It was as if a wave of ecstasy had run over his narrow frame and just reached its climax.

"Ah," he exhaled, "I vas wondering vhy you travelled to God's house." At these words, Jobe's heart sunk like a stone. It was then he noticed the minute, silver crucifix that dangled from Casper's neck and he began to wonder if (with some regret) whether his subconscious had been right to be wary of him. It wasn't like he had a positive view on religious zealots in this town.

"God's house?" Jobe echoed soullessly.

"Yah, it's just at the end of the street. I think you are seeking answers my friend, even if you don't know it yourself."

Casper's words floated past him as if they were nothing but an empty breeze but a thought raised its head in Jobe's mind:

The Dark Place

Jobe was broken from his meditation by Casper's hand clapping on his shoulder.

"I too vas once lost, heading down on the road to hell but zen, something wonderful happened. I heard the voice of God and she gave my empty existence purpose, offering me salvation."

Jobe listened, trying not to think about having to go to this town's church. He'd had his fill of its twisted religion; he just wanted to get out of here.

(With Phil of course)

"What did god tell you to do?" He asked, feeling as though he'd awoken with the hangover to end all hangovers. All of this seemed so unreal, as if he wasn't here but just some entity watching these events from a distance, unable to stop them as they spiralled out of control. 

For a moment, a cloud seemed to pass over Casper's sunny exterior and he sighed.

"Like you, I have lost someone to zis town. She vas a lost soul like myself, if you will, and we travelled here at god's command but…" Casper rolled his hand as he searched his vocabulary. "We vere separated in the fog. I vould help you in your search but it is of the up most importance I find her. Soon." He stopped and beamed at Jobe with his ghoulish grin, all of the melancholy air that had filled his being simply floated away.  

"You vill find the answers you are looking for zhere, ha, everyone dose."

Jobe returned a cheap imatation of his smile and nodded. Why was it so hard to admit that this guy was okay, even if he did worship some demented god that was the catalyst for all the insanity around him? Casper seemed to be treating the whole affair as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Thanks. I hope you find her." Was all an extremely confused Jobe could manage.

"You to, mien friend." Casper replied, casting him a carefree wave as he began to walk off into the fog, only managing to take a few steps.

"Wait, there's some pretty strange stuff out there," Jobe started, holding out the handgun. "You should take this." But Casper merely shook his head at the offer.

"I am armed with faith in god, and is that not the greatest weapon any man can posses?" He said, sounding as though he'd just quoted something out of the bible.

A dumbfounded Jobe watched as the man disappeared into the fog, taking his cheerful radiance with him and with every 'click' of his shoes, the momentary warmth faded just a little bit more.

Jobe shivered.

'How can anyone be so positive with all this crazy stuff around them?"

"Maybe love is all we need, huh?" He let a mirthless laugh as he turned to Wrath's still warm corpse. All he was greeted with was the dark, empty hole where the windshield had been.

*   *   *

Jobe sat down on the curb, panting like a dog in a heat wave. After discovering the absence of Wrath, he'd run down the street like there was no tomorrow. At one point he thought he'd seen something in the swirling veil of fog but he'd been going far to fast to take it in. Perhaps, not knowing was for best.

Virgil, it turned out had grossly underestimated the length of the street on her map. Jobe thought it was going to stretch on to forever as countless, ramshackle buildings flashed past him, looking like nothing more than watercolours through the fog.

Well, he'd reached the end of the road with out hearing the beat of the 'sin of anger's' wings or the chittering of the town's warped inhabitancies. He wondered if Casper was having a similar stroke of fortune.

'Oh well, if he bumps into anything, he can just charm it to death.' The image of the optimistic Casper trying to spread a little good will into the hart of Greed caused the man to brake out in a grin.

Jobe let the smile drop from his face as he looked up at his latest obstacle. The church was nothing out of the ordinary; A tiny, two story building that seemed to have been squished between the surrounding houses, complete with a peeling paint job covering swollen beams of wood that were fat with rot and damp. Jobe was finding it hard to believe that this was going to be the site of god's resurrection, let alone the point from which 'paradise' would spread out across the earth.

The windows probably did a better of keeping out the pale, spectral light of this town that the walls themselves. The glass in them seemed to have decayed, turning an off yellow. Dim light shone from within the building, illuminating the panes of glass like the eyes of some enormous beast that watched him with an unblinking gaze.

Jobe scolded himself for being afraid but there was something about the church that turned his blood to ice.

It sat there, at the end of the street, waiting for him, never imposing itself. It knew that eventually, Jobe would have to get up and come to it: that was inevitable. After all, wasn't it he who had said he wasn't going to turn around after getting so close. For all Jobe knew, Phil could be waiting inside.

'Well, we can sit all day here and turn into a nice little ice sculpture because you were scared of a church. Not too much fun, huh? Or we can go in there and hopefully conclude this little nightmare. After all, you'll" find the answers your looking for zhere",'

Slowly, Jobe got to his feet and began walking (far too slowly) towards the ominous little building. Too easily could he imagine dark tendrils pulling him towards the church, their knobbly finger's locking together, blocking anyway out back to the light.

Somehow, he managed to make it to the large, arched door, apprehensively resting a hand on the once copper doorknob. Trills of green vines inched over it where the metal had oxidised, slowly corrupting the handle. Jobe didn't want to let his hand linger there to long, it was far to easy to imagine veins of rust cropping up on his hand, contracted from the infection of decay the whole town seemed to be suffering from.

Jobe closed his eyes and turned the handle and it responded with a soft click.

"At least I've still got my health,"

As if on que, he sneezed.