Zen's War: Captivity

As they walked down Sixth Street they passed the University’s football stadium. Built into the side of the stadium were three separate dormitories. They were no longer inhabited by students, they were instead inhabited by soldiers, or soldados as they were called in Spanish and their family members. Zen had the option of joining their ranks. There were great incentives to join the Mexican Revolutionary Front. Food, water and shelter were three of the most attractive reasons to join. They controlled the resources, so it was they who were in control. Another reason for their power was their nearly unlimited access to weaponry. Zen pushed these thoughts aside and continued forward.

As they walked west on Sixth Street, he spotted an old rickety horse-drawn wagon off in the distance heading east. There was no reason to think that whoever was in the wagon was looking for trouble. It was however smart to be wary of travelers. One was never certain of who one would encounter. Hopefully they would have no nefarious intentions. It was then that Zen thought to ask for a ride. The problem was that they were extremely low on supplies, and they had little to barter. Another possible problem was that they were heading in the opposite direction.

As the wagon came closer the Colonel gripped the handle of his shotgun, in case they were looking for trouble. The wagon slowly came into view. Eventually Zen could make out who was driving the wagon. The driver was a middle-aged Hispanic man dressed in a black robe. He looked to be a monk of some sort. There were a number of monks from different orders, such as Jesuit and Franciscan. Zen guessed that this one was Jesuit judging by his black robe. He had only ever met less than ten, so he did not know exactly what to expect.

Zen waved his arms, motioning for the monk to pull the wagon over. The rest of the group looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “We mean you no harm. We need your help,” he said to the robed man.

At first it seemed like the wagon was picking up speed, but as he came closer he miraculously brought it to a halt. As Zen approached the wagon the monk suddenly pulled a revolver from the inside of his robe and aimed it at him. At the same time the Colonel aimed his shotgun at the monk. “How can I be of service?” the monk asked, all the while aiming the gun at Zen’s head.

“Can you put the gun away? I thought you monks were supposed to be peaceful,” Zen responded.

“We’re supposed to be peaceful, not stupid,” the monk answered.

“Forget this hypocrite. We need to move on. He’s obviously not going to help us,” Aurora said, not willing to waste any time.

“Who are you to judge me? I’m no different than any of you. I’m simply trying to survive like anyone else,” the monk said in his own defense, still aiming his gun at them. “I will forgive your transgression this time,” he said, as he returned the revolver to the inside of his robe. The Colonel seeing the monk put his gun away relaxed his grip on the shotgun.

“Let’s start over. First of all let me ask your forgiveness. I’m a little on edge. I was held up a couple of days ago by some highwaymen. They took all my food and water, including the grain to feed my horses, so excuse me if I am not quick to trust people. But that’s another story. Let me introduce myself. I’m Father Valencia of the Jesuit order, and these are my horses Pedro and Pablo,” he said with a grin.

“Nice to meet you Padre. My name is Zen. This is my wife Aurora, and my sons Derek and Hector. The man wearing the army fatigues is Colonel Krakowski, and that’s Pablo.”

“Good to meet you all. Introductions aside, what was it you needed help with?” Father Valencia asked.

“A few days ago our daughter was taken from us. The problem is we have no idea exactly who took her. All we know are rumors, but nothing substantial. First we heard from some M.R.F. Officers that a girl had been rescued from some slave traders and that she was taken to the Sisters of Mercy. We went to the monastery, but it turned out it wasn’t her. The Abbess Anne told us about a cult that has been abducting adolescent girls. She told us that there may be a possibility that their compound is located somewhere near the Dragoon Mountains. Have you heard of such a cult ?” Zen asked.

Father Valencia gave Zen a startled look. “I have heard of many cults. I think I have heard of the one you’re talking about. I have heard stories from other men of the cloth, about a false Messiah. Many young girls have gone missing, or so I’ve heard. I don’t know if his followers are the ones abducting these girls, but it is definitely a possibility,” he responded.

“We were headed down to the train station downtown. It was our intention to hop a train that could take us within range of the Dragoon Mountains. We are not giving up on finding Sahara. That’s my daughter’s name. We have no idea if there is even a cult like the one we were told of. We don’t even know if it’s located near the Dragoon Mountains. For a lack of other options we have been forced to try all possibilities. As I saw you approach us it occurred to me that instead of hopping a train we might be able to negotiate a ride with you. The problem is that we have very little to offer as a trade,” Zen explained.

“That’s quite a long way to travel. I have no grain for my horses to eat, and very little food for myself or water. On the other hand there is definitely more safety in numbers. The thing is, how do I even know if any of you can be trusted? I don’t even know if your story is true, or whether or not you’re even who you say you are. The only ones I trust are myself and God. For all I know you could all be instruments of the devil,” he said with a look of concern in his hazel colored eyes.

“I can see that you’ve lost all faith in humanity. I don’t blame you; I have too, but I haven’t given up on finding my daughter.”

Father Valencia’s demeanor seemed to suddenly change. “I had a son and a wife myself. That was before I became a monk, and I took a vow of celibacy. When my wife and son were taken from me by the plague, I cursed God for forsaking me. I had given up on humanity long before that, but at that moment I turned my back on God. I began to inflict pain on others, so that they would feel the pain that I felt. I committed many sins of the flesh and heart, but none of those worldly pleasures filled the void within my soul. I won’t go any further into the events that brought about my decision to become a man of God―”

“Will you give us a lift or not? Sorry to interrupt, but time is of the essence,” Zen said, in an effort to excuse his sudden interruption.

“Although it is against my best interests, I did take a vow of charity when I joined the order of Jesus. Because it is my Christian duty I will help you. There is room inside the wagon, but it will be cramped for the six of you. Maybe having my supplies stolen was part of God’s plan, to allow enough room for you all to fit. Perhaps it was the result of divine providence.”