Broseph Hoeseph Seed 🤡

The panic was yet to die down, she said nothing but Joseph could see it in her eyes how disturbed she was by the situation she had found herself in. Dutch’s rotting corpse needed to be discreetly dealt with whilst not incurring any radiation damage from the blast. Joseph looked as disturbed as the deputy did, his prophecy had come true, a sweeping sense of vindication was halted by the reminder that he alone survived with her. How strangely cruel God’s plan was for them both.

Whilst Joseph was calm and pragmatic about their situation, the deputy thought of nothing. She stared at the floor for a long time, forgetting to blink until a tear ran down her cheek, only lightly pulling her out of the trance she’d put herself in just to blink and once again be lulled back into her absent thoughts. The two of them sat in silence, Joseph stared at her whilst he thought of everything that needed to be done, his face twitching as his thoughts were interrupted with occasional reminders that his family was dead. Everyone was dead.

Joseph was the first to leave, quietly dragging the body away which she dared not watch. It was somewhat laborious for Joseph which made it all the more frightening for her, the longer the procession, the longer she had to stay in her trance save her brain would shut down completely from shock. Dutch was not a heavy man but he was not so light either and his clothes russelled against the concrete flooring until all that became of him was a muffled noise beyond the room. She did not know how long Joseph was gone, only that after a time, he returned. Time felt like nothing, so tangible was the concept that she felt as if reality were a dream and the rules of dream could take place. Dreams were where she would seek refuge, she hoped to dream so heavily that it would convince her the dream was real. But she had never been so awake in all her life and being held in an awkward sitting position meant sleep eluded her. Especially with Joseph in the room again, he was looking at her, she could see it in her peripheral vision as she had not moved her eyes from where they had rested since Joseph stood from his chair to dispose of Dutch.

Joseph was first to breach her comfortable silence, “come,” he saw the shock in her eyes and how she had calmed her breath now. He was comfortable enough to remove her handcuffs and watched as her wrists flopped to the ground. There was nothing behind her eyes, so hauntingly enchanting to him the eyes of a killer, so devoid of humanity, more machine than woman. And so when he held his hand out to her, she did not take it, she did not move as if she’d forgotten how to do so. Joseph took her hand in his and it stirred a reaction in her, so minute he would have missed it were he not studying her face. The slightest twitch of her eyebrows, a quick expression of disgust that flattened into a neutral expression. Her head unnaturally turned towards him and he recognised the look of fear. She beheld him with an almost lovecraftian fear, so humble yet so grand was he, a prophet sent by God or a madman willing to destroy everything to be proven right. She could not decide for still she could not think beyond reactions to what was presently happening. The deputy lived now only in the present, unable to look introspectively at anything beyond five seconds prior to now.

The deputy stood now, with the guidance of Joseph, as he escorted her into what would become their dining room. “There is little but enough to sustain ourselves for seven years if we ration properly, fortunately the water filtration works just fine so we can shower and drink plenty,” he said with his soft southern drawl. Seven years. She would have seven years alone with the father, she wouldn’t be the same person she was now and it frightened her, the possibilities of what she may become. Joseph now noticed how the deputy could only function in the present, unable to think of the past or look into the future. “Rest now,” he told her, knowing that now more than ever, she needed his guidance. She was at least able to stand up on her own and return to the bedroom where she had originally been bound. In a somewhat robotic fashion, she removed her shoes and got into bed. Whilst she wanted to dream and to be convinced of another reality, she did not want to try to sleep, the more she was allowed to think, the more her brain seemed to melt. Joseph could hear her now laboured breathing as he walked back into the room. He was like her haunting rather than the guardian he no doubt saw himself as she thought. He sat at the edge of the bed, stroking her arm, only barred by the layers of bed covers between them. “When we’re in our garden, we’ll grow plenty of flowers, start a new flock, a peaceful people, strong people,” he mused, his head raised and eyes shut as he imagined his idyllic paradise. A sigh left his lips as he smiled at the thought, she supposed he tried to soothe her, he stopped rubbing her arm and rested his forearms on his knees. “What flowers would you like us to grow?” He aired softly, turning his head back to her, prying at her, digging out the humanity so long hidden in her body.

“I don’t see flowers,” she said flatly. She saw only death, bodies upon bodies, some righteous in death and others humanly cowardly. Death greeted everyone despite their feelings about it. She had been sending bodies to death, so long a courier that never met her recipient yet now wished to be taken into their loving embrace. It was her punishment to live. To live with the knowledge that her hands were stained red, so deep was the stain that not even the removal of her skin could clear the mark present only to her gaze. “There are no gardens left for flowers to grow Father, oh God,” she said, her words strangely strung, poetically describing the images of her mind that fluctuated between nothingness and reminders of why she could only function under nothingness. But Joseph was also pleased she so readily called him Father. The deputy did not speak or behave like herself, the stress bringing on a delirium in her that encouraged Joseph to stay and continue. She pulled her hands from under the covers to show him her bloody hands but he only saw her palms and the look of beginning madness in her eye.

“I wish you saw the peace of the future that will come but maybe what’s best right now is if you get some rest,” he said softly, taking her clean hands and hoping this feverish rambling from the once near mute deputy would cease and that she would find serenity in his promises and wisdom. The deputy got under the covers again and she was quietened by Joseph, he read from the bible so that she did not think whilst she tried to sleep. Joseph listened to her laboured breathing, could see her grind her teeth and furrow her brow, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead and when sleep finally met her, she was corpse-like in appearance.

Joseph delicately closed his bible, placed it on the table behind and looked at her with a wild look in his eye, his child, his family killer and most hated. He loved her dearly and it cost him everything. His expression relaxed as his thoughts drifted to what he lost, not thinking of their killer though she was within his grasp. His brothers, his sister, so perfect, they were at rest, this was his only comfort, knowing they did not suffer through the years leading up to New Eden. The ache in his chest led to a tightening in his throat as he felt his saliva thicken and his eyes burn with all that was lost. God had always pushed him to the most extreme of tests, this was his final one, accept her, love her, forgive her and then, only then can there be heaven on earth. But what is heaven when you’re in Hell? It all seemed to mean so little in this moment as he looked at her again, trapped in a lonely hell not quite ready to accept the fact he would never see his family again. All the things he had planned for them were gone, it was not the loss of the hope of seeing them in New Eden but the confrontation that he would never know the feel of their hands in his, that he would with time forget what it felt like to hug them that frightened him most. A wave of fear rushed over him as he knew one day he would forget their voice. There was nothing left that had recorded it, all gone with God’s fury. The only tangible proof of their existence was a portrait on a pinboard that existed solely to aid in their killer's pursuit. The world would forget them, the only people alive with any memory of them resided in this very room. His family only existed in their memory now, among his many missions Joseph made note to write down more of his family so that they were not entirely forgotten with time like their voices would be. And whilst he thought of his, his eyes focussed on the restless deputy and all the emotions she stirred in him, most were unpleasant, some exceeded to the point of sin. He knew he could love her, after all that she’d done, he knew deep inside, it could be honestly forgiven, God never asked the impossible from him.

God had told him to open his heart to her and who was he but the Lord’s servant. So he raised a hand to her as her body thrashed suddenly in the midst of a violent dream whilst the tides of guilt and sin sunk deep into her bones, his holy hand gently touched her cheek and she stilled. Her breath still laboured and her face was still tight but her twitching stilled as The Father began to caress her cheek. She was cold to the touch and moist from sweat, God gave her sickness a physical manifestation. His thumb brushed back and forth, waiting for her face to soften, so beautiful when she submitted to him. Her laboured breaths became more like groans, those groans turned to cries and her face was splotchy with splashes red on her skin. The deputy abruptly woke and could only cry, it was beautiful, Joseph was pleased her pride had not consumed her to guiltlessness. It gave him hope. He stilled his caress and held her head as she turned her wet cheeks to his palms. “I’m sorry, for all of it, I’m so sorry, can you ever forgive me,” she whimpered against his skin. Joseph came closer to her and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.