Chapter 1 the Curious Religious Man

Christian Thomas pressed hard on the gas pedal and his silver BMW sped down the dirt road. The dust came off the road like spirits dancing on a calm lake. Steaming lights came off the sun, and made the trees like a washboard painting. Christian whistled to the hymns playing through his car speakers. And everything that God had created; the land and all the waters were calm. God, watched from above, admiring his thirteenth disciple Christian Thomas. And the light was bright as a halo off an angel. The roads were subtle that morning, as Christian drove through the towns of Judaia.

The light shined from the heavens for hours upon hours. Christian drove his car into the gas station on the sixth road of the sixty-fifth town in Judaia. He killed the biblical hymns playing on his speakers, and slit the ignition. He walked out of his car with his spring jacket over his sprouted body and a luscious red beret on top of his bald head. There weren't any customers using the pumps that morning. There were only two cars in the car lot beside the gift shop.

Christian undid the gas cap at the back of his car, grabbed the nozzle and filled the tank to the rim. Forty-five dollars had to do; he shook the excess gas off the nozzle, tightened the cap and walked over to the teller at the booth. "Pump three." He said, and laid a fifty on the table. "And this too." He grabbed a pack of Wrigley's off the shelf and tossed it on the counter.

"Where you heading down here in Judaia anyways?" The clerk grabbed the change from the cash register. He was well dressed and was wearing a Dodger's baseball cap.

"Just out for a drive, I've never been down here in... Judaia? It is Judaia right?" Christian put his hand out and the clerk dropped the change into his palm.

"Yes sir, since 1945." He straightened his dodger's cap. "We got ourselves a good record of being a clean place." His face arched into a smile.

"Environment's going downhill these days." Christian added. "Good thing we got some people in the world that give a rat's ass about something other than themselves."

"Sir, keep it down. My daughter's asleep in the next room, and we got customers." The clerks face grew anxious. "And it's not so much the environment that we are concerned about, but keeping this place clean as it pertains to survival." He smiled again, and this time Christian noticed a stain of yellow along his front teeth.

Christian looked at the man with a puzzled smirk. "Survival?"

"Yes survival." He smiled and pushed the pack of Wrigley's along the counter toward Christian. "Haven't you heard sir? The village just one town up from here is the village of Oshawitz sir.

"You have heard of Auschwitz haven't you sir?" The clerk looked anxious again, almost uneasy. As if the conversation was churning his stomach. "That's the name of the place one town south sir." He looked toward the ceiling, squinted his eyes, and then looked straight at Christian. "And that place...well that place is shear hell." The clerk's arms shook as if he'd shoved them into an electrical socket, when he said this. "That town just one south resembles Auschwitz in the fittest, my dear friend." He looked straight into Christian's eyes, as if to find his weakness. "If you're thinking about going south, you might wish to reconsider." The clerks face lit up, and veins grew below the skin of his forehead.

"I am just out for a drive, exploring God's green earth." Christian turned his eyes toward the window. "And what exactly is in this town?" He gazed over the parking lot, keeping his eyes away from the clerk.

The two men at the gas station that morning had the longest conversation about the small town of oshawitz. And as the conversation proceeded, the men didn't once glance at one another. And the rumours of the old town called Oshawitz one town south were talked about, but Christian Thomas could not have expected the truth of the old town when he left the gas station that morning. He adjusted his beret and walked toward his BMW. He murmured under his breath. "If curiosity doesn't kill me, I don't know what will." He started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned south, and travelled the long corridor road, walled with high trees, and the beaming sun from the clouds. Christian Thomas the curious religious man who had a wife and kids was heading toward Oshawitz.