Los Viajeros

The Queen sat upon her golden throne, on a cushion of the finest goose and pheasant feathers her huntsmen could find. The great stone room she occupied, nearly alone, was quiet but vibrated on another frequency. Giant tapestries adorned the walls and told of her heroic victories from the past. They were meaningless to her now, stories to be passed down the family line Queen in waiting to Queen in waiting.

Now it was the future she had been impatient for, lips pursed, shrewd emerald eyes fixed on the thick timber doors across the room. Aging had begun to do a funny thing to The Queen. She had become ravenously desperate to consolidate power as her age accelerated and cognition waned. The lines that crisscrossed her angular visage only served to age her well beyond herself, a gold and silver crown ensconced with emeralds and rubies hung low on her forehead. One long, sallow index finger tapped rhythmically on an arm of the throne.

Pike-wielding guards stood at the entrance, waiting for her signal. They knew not to incur The Queen’s wrath, there was no coming back from whatever punishment she might deem necessary for any infraction, no matter how minor. The Queen’s perception was the only one that held any weight across her huge tracts of land. She drew deep and labored breaths while tarrying, like a dragon dozing away on their shiny trove.

Soft footfalls from the far side of those timber doors slowly became louder on approach. The two guards turned to face their Queen, expecting executable orders, but her gaze was unbroken They shrugged their shoulders and quarter-turned to face the doors themselves. They stared at each other as a fist rapped loudly against the timber. One of the guards jumped in surprise, while the other readied his pike, taking an aggressive stance and pointing it forward. The sound of his chainmail clinking against itself echoed back to The Queen.

“SILENCE!” she bellowed, never once moving from her staid position on the throne. “OPEN THE DOORS!”

The guards obeyed The Queen like the good little soldiers they thought they were. With an ear-splitting creak, the doors slowly parted, swinging inward to the great hall. The Queen straightened herself and then her crown, trying to make herself appear imperious. The time to be her namesake was now.

A small, frankly unthreatening boy clothed in a tunic dyed various shades of blue, cinched at the waist with a comically large bronze belt buckle in the shape of a lute sauntered into the throne room. His ruff stretched far and wide around the circumference of his neck, a pure wonder that he could see past the edge of it at all. He bowed deeply and respectfully before The Queen, stretched himself back to his full length (all 4’8”), and cleared his throat with a fortuitously phlegmy display.

“My Great and Gracious Queen,” the herald cleared his throat once more, his pale blue eyes dancing with an enthusiasm typically reserved for dogs on the hunt. “The Traveler has returned!”

The Queen lifted an arm and a spindly finger reached out, beckoning The Traveler forward. He stepped across the threshold into the throne room, leather riding boots slapping wetly against the ancient stone. He walked directly up to The Queen, who was taken aback at The Traveler’s forthrightness. Nonetheless, he dutifully bent the knee and reached out to his liege, who returned the favor by placing her desiccated hand in his.

The Traveler pushed back the crimson cloak from his head with his free hand, revealing a mane of auburn curls and steely grey-blue eyes. He locked them with The Queen as he kissed her large ruby ring. They both smiled, The Queen’s lips peeled apart just enough to reveal her mustard-toned teeth.

The Queen pulled her hand back and looked beyond The Traveler. Greedy basilisk green eyes quested around the throne room from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. “Where is it?” She demanded sharply, asking the entire room the question. The menace could’ve been cut with a knife and served at tea.

As the guards and herald turned their heads away from The Queen, the Traveler continued to meet her gaze. He smiled, teeth whiter than the swans in her private gardens. “You have sent me west, across the wide sea to find new riches and land for your cause and Queendom. I have returned to you with something far greater.”

“Where. Is. It.” The Queen hissed, venom dripping from the words of a question posed as a statement.

The Traveler continued to smile, The Queen was agitated and unsettled. “Why, my Queen, it is in our hearts and minds. I have simply brought the key to unlock it so we may release it into your world.”

No one else dared speak. Even the enormous tapestries had fallen silent against whatever slight breeze previously rustled them along the stone walls.

“His Word.” The Traveler spoke clearly. “His Light.”

“Whose!” The Queen put trust in her arms to push herself up from the throne. She was successful but teetered unsteadily.

The Traveler stood as well, further angering The Queen. The onlookers knew he was likely in trouble. There was nothing they could or would do. To disobey meant certain death. “He has no name, my Queen. His Word and Light is the way. I came upon His Light and His Word led me to paradise. I’ve seen the beauty and harmony this world can produce my Queen, you must trust me on this.”

If The Queen had still been sensible, she may have considered what The Traveler had asked. However, those days were fleeting and she was no longer one to consider words past their surface meaning.

“You brought me words.” She sneered, flecks of gray spittle raining down on the Traveler’s cloak. “You brought me nothing.”

The Traveler attempted to speak, but her hand shot out with alarming speed, though she fell back onto the seat of her throne.

“You refuse to give me a name.” The Queen said. “You come back to my castle with nothing. You dare offer your Queen nothing.”

“I’ve brought you love and hope, the promise of God and paradise,” The Traveler mustered as The Queen’s lips parted into a decayed smile stretched taut against the framework of her skull.

“GUARDS!” The Queen shrieked. “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”

The herald squealed in jubilation as the two pikemen and a third guard, wielding a broadsword were charging at The Traveler. The pikemen forced him to his knees as the swordsman rushed forward, blade brandished overhead ready to arc down with the final fatal blow…

Pavillon Monceau Hotel Room 418 Paris, France 4:18 AM CET May 4, 2024

…and Don Winters woke up in his hotel room drenched in sweat, gasping for air. He reflexively reached for his neck and found it was still attached to the rest of his body, a slight comfort for the Five Star champion. Hours ago The Anglo Luchador had taken him to the absolute limit in Don’s first title defense. He came away the victor, but not unscathed. He chalked the dream up to the aftermath of that.

“There is no love in fear.” The Revelator whispered to himself as he crossed his heart. He took a deep breath and reached for his phone. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, “foureighteen,” he mumbled and thumbed open his messages. He felt an unmistakable heaviness in the pit of his stomach and sent the message.

“Hey, sorry I haven’t called back in the last month, been real busy. I can be in Boston in two weeks, I don’t have to go to Strasbourg. Let me know. I miss you too.”

✞✟✞✟✞

Father Don’s Private Residence The House of His Word and Light Winter’s Port, Guyana May 13, 2024

Sunrise along the beach at Winter’s Port had become one of Don’s favorite acts to witness. Here he felt the true grace of His Word and Light. Nowhere else matched the majesty and beauty the sunrise here offered him. Peace in totality, a little slice of paradise for the Revelator to retreat to.

That morning the usual golden hues were obscured by an overcast sky, and Don’s mood dipped with the weather. That this was the case bothered him deeply, but he attempted to get past it, instead watching the steady rollick of the waves and listening to the distant cry of gulls.

Those sounds slowly faded, replaced with a one-way conversation where he was mostly a passenger. He could see Mary and Abigal walking alongside him on the beach. Don could feel their arms interlocked with his as they walked. Innocent smiles on their faces, the wind blowing through and tousling their hair.

“Mary, can you believe he’s done it again?” Abigail asked, smacking gum in the way an annoying teenager might.

“It’s incredible!” Mary gasped, bringing her free hand to her heart in an exaggerated motion.

Abigail coyly looked to her left and smiled at Mary. “But do you think it’s enough?” She licked her lips.

“We have a lot as it is. Plenty to be proud of.” Mary reassured Abigail. “Don’t you think we have enough to be proud about Father Don?”

He nodded as they continued walking along the beach, almost as if he were sleepwalking.

“But Sister Mary, I want it all.” Abigail was almost pleading. “There’s so much we can have. So much more to take. Why are we settling for the Five Star, for Winter’s Port, they don’t fill the hole, I’m simply famished.”

Behind them, a third voice emerged. “Abigail, you need to mind your appetite”

Abigail turned her head and spat her gum at the figure behind them. “Shut up, John!” Abigail stuck out her tongue and wagged it at him while crossing her eyes.

“John is right,” Mary interjected. “You need to watch yourself, Abigail. You’re getting out of hand. We should be thankful for what we have.”

She paused.

“And we should be very proud of it.”

Abigail, John, and Mary nodded in unison. Absentmindedly, Don did too.

John caught up to the pack and smiled warmly at Father Don. “We have the Five Star title. We are the defenders of the true art of professional wrestling. We don’t need more than that right now. Don’t listen to Abigail, she is brash and hasn’t learned to control her impulses…

…Our impulses…

…Your impulses.”

Winters shook his head and blinked hard. A quick flash like a lightning bolt shot through his head. His eyes tried to track the white spots that developed, but they were always a hair out of reach. If only he could twitch his eye a millisecond faster, he could capture it straight on.

He looked around. Mary and Abigail were gone. John now stood before him, hands pursed together, smiling plainly.

“My advice should follow you to Boston.” It was almost a demand to be complied with. “Temper yourself, Father Don. We have enough.”

Winters took another moment to search the area. His eyes darted to the beach behind him, the trail they had walked together. He felt his heartbeat quicken and a small bead of sweat form on his forehead. Feeling slightly lightheaded he dropped to one knee to compose himself.

Don lifted his head to confirm what he saw and his lips quivered into a grin when he did.

A single set of footprints.

✟✞✟✞✟

Boston Common Boston, Massachusetts May 18, 2024

“Another gray day.” Donovan Winters thought to himself as he walked through the Common alongside his one-time girlfriend Jess St. Cloud. Spring in Boston, slightly rainy, low 60s. It felt about right. Don hadn’t seen her since before the Asylum days, but she reached out a couple of months ago and was persistent about meeting again.

“How did you find me anyway?” Don asked, genuinely curious, as Jess was someone he thought of now and then the way everyone thinks of former lovers now and then. Wistful thinking about those good times, but there’s never an inclination to reach out.

She laughed in response to the question, more out of embarrassment than it being asked. “I saw this clip on social media of a wrestler being crucified and was shocked to see it was an old boyfriend.”

Don smiled. “Nice to see I’m not so forgettable after 20 years.”

Jess demurred to the walking path and things got awkward between them for a moment. “Yeah, anyway. It was, I dunno, it stirred some memories, you know? And you said you’d be by that first time, and you weren’t so, I figured it’d be okay to harass you a little bit about it and, what? You’re jetsetting all around the world now?”

Winters chuckled. “Something like that I guess. I’m the head minister of a church along with the wrestling thing. Did you know that?”

“It’s not just a gimmick, or whatever?

“Ha. No, it’s the real thing.” Winters said. “Had a real rough time for a long time and came out of it through the grace of His Word and Light. I’ve dedicated myself to Him since then and, it’s been good.”

They walked silently for a few minutes, both taking in the sights of the park, a duck boat of tourists motoring off in the distance.

“What about you, Jess?” Don asked. “What’s life been like for you?”

“Well, I did that single mom thing for a while and had a son in 2004. Met a good guy who was a great stepdad to him, but we eventually fell out and got divorced, so I’ve just focused on my work the last few years.”

“Still writing?” Don asked again. He was happy not to answer questions.

“For the Globe, yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s work, you know? Feature writing is fine. Never got the novel off the ground as I had hoped, just couldn’t find the time. Now that Jerry’s out of the house, maybe, but I always find excuses to do something else.”

Something sparked in Don’s brain, but he decided the question was better left unanswered. Jess continued before he could pepper another one in on her though.

“So the church thing,” she started. “It’s not a cult, is it?”

She playfully jabbed his right arm and he responded with a laugh. “I mean, but definition, aren’t they all? But no, it’s not. We’re doing very good work for the people in Winter’s Port and in Guyana. I’m very excited to begin expanding our operations. We’re helping so many people Jess. The charity is what makes me feel closer to His Word and Light. Makes me feel like I’m doing something that truly matters.”

“I’m glad to hear that Donovan.” She was sincere. Don thought it was nice to hear a sincere voice. He felt immediately attracted to her the moment he saw her again, even after 20 years and despite how short their previous tryst had been. Just a few months while fWo had been touring through New England, but whirlwind romances are like that sometimes. Don could feel the spark was still there but wasn’t sure if she felt the same. He could never tell.

“Thanks. I’m happy to hear things are good for you.” Don replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out last time. I got pretty anxious about it and felt maybe I shouldn’t. Like I said, surprised you had remembered me.”

“No, it’s fine!” Jess insisted. “It felt a little weird to reach out. I didn’t expect a response, you’re some big celebrity now.”

Don’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Now I don’t know about that.”

“Like 8 million people saw that Williams dude and Daniels chick hang you up on that cross! That’s not nothing.”

“It certainly was something.” Don’s voice trailed off.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jess apologized. “You probably don’t want to talk about work. You wanna stop in somewhere for lunch?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” Winters replied.

As they walked along Tremont Street, Don’s thoughts drifted beyond walking along with Jess and to Anna Daniels, who had aided Rob Williams in the crucifixion. Oddly enough she had been lined up for the next ReVival, this one in Barcelona, but in a non-title shot. That had taken Don aback, he had all but convinced himself he would be defending again before Tropical Turmoil.

Yet not defending the title was no respite. Anna would be a tenacious and game competitor for the Revelator, who had his hands full with her in a tag match at Rev 44 at the beginning of March. The same night they crucified him. He had forgiven Anna, he had told her as much on jabber.

He also couldn’t help but feel the dream he had the night after beating TAL was somehow about Anna. She was always demanding that he tell her who his God is. He stepped around it constantly, by design. He found it farcical enough that she claimed to be a time traveler, moving at will between dimensions and bending time and space to her will.

He couldn’t buy that one, not even for a dollar. Why would she choose this particular time? And to be a professional wrestler? Those things didn’t add up. Don wasn’t about looking back, but about living in the present and looking forward. Anna Daniels never made sense to him, not from a theological standpoint, a sheer impossible absurdity.

Yet she existed, stood before him as an opponent, that had to be considered.

The Traveler.

He had forgiven Anna but had certainly not forgotten.

That was enough. He knew that was all the righteous fervor he needed to offer her Absolution.

She would deny it. Foolish.

Touched by the stars, or touched by His Word and Light, Donovan Winters knew where he stood.

Suddenly he felt a tugging at his arm and was pulled out of the thought bubble. Jess was looking up at him and smiling.

“Hey spaceman, are you coming in?”

“Huh?” He replied.

“It’s like you’ve been in another world.” She laughed. “Are you coming into the restaurant with me, or not?”

He smiled and recollected himself back onto the material plane. “Of course.”

✞✟✞✟✞

Sagrada Familia Barcelona, Catalonia May 27, 2024

Father Don Winters stood in the shadow of the construction site of Barcelona and Spain’s most ambitious project since the Moors built Alhambra - the Sagrada Familia. He prayed to himself as he stared up at the awe-invoking completed spires. “Truly a house God would be proud of,” he thought.

While the Revelator stood alone in the shade of a terrace, he felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise. He could see the outline of a figure standing across from, leaning against a tree, one hand in a pocket, the other balled in a fist.

“Why do you keep denying me Don?” the figure asked forcefully. “She invited you back to her place in Boston and you said no? The fuck is wrong with you, man? Do you know how long it’s been for us? And you abstain!? You silly little fucker. Mommy did brainwash you, didn’t she?”

Winters tried to ignore the figure, but it persisted.

“I know why,” he could feel it grinning at him. “You know the trouble it got you into last time, don’t you? Deep down inside, when she said her kid’s name, you knew. That’s fate, baby. That’s His Word and Light bringing it all back around full circle. It’s time for you to realize, Donny.”

He shook his head violently, the image wouldn’t dissipate.

“Give in to that carnal desire next time Donny,” the figure insisted. “Do it for me, do it for old Matthew. Throw this dog a bone, ha ha ha!”

Winters was knocked loose from his state when his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Jess St. Cloud at the top of the screen.

The gears started turning.

You’ve known since he picked you up at Logan.

Jeremiah Saint.

“Now that Jerry’s gone.”

Don answered the phone and pushed the speaker icon, Matthew grinned at him.

“Jess, what’s up?” Don asked.

“Hey Don!” She was unrelentingly cheerful. Don had decided he needed that in his life more. “I wanted to see how Spain was treating you, that’s all!”

“Yeah, great.” Distracted, Winters’ brain was traveling in all directions. “I can’t talk for long, but I do have to ask one question.”

“Shoot!” She replied.

“We didn’t talk much about your son,” Don swallowed hard, Matthew’s grin widened. “When you said he was ‘out of the house’ I meant to ask what he’s doing these days.”

Jess laughed.

“It completely slipped my mind, you didn’t want to talk work!” She laughed harder. “He’s training in Japan to be a wrestler, and works for a company called Bang, or someth-”

Don’s phone slipped out of his hands and crashed to the pavement, the screen cracked. Matthew laughed.

The first revelation.