The plan was painfully simple but could become impossible if it didn’t go off without a hitch. Once whatever force this was that had a grip on Brigham Young was dealt with the strange spacetime magnetism that kept the Chrono Car stuck in this alternate reality should cease, allowing the Chrono Car to depart. Hypothetically, once they were able to depart, any movement along the timeline should reset it to what it was before, so that this threat from beyond time and space had never existed.

Parking among some nearby brush and rocks that effectively hid the Chrono Car while the Doc calculated vectors. He was looking for the best chance of escaping unscathed which meant eliminating any path from which an enemy might quickly approach. There was a catch; “Timespace coordinates have to be entered after the Flex Dynamo is fully charged. A design flaw, I’m afraid. I never anticipated such a source of interference as this. The Flex Dynamo cannot remain charged. First it charges, then jumps, discharging as it goes, so we need as much time unmolested as possible, Justice.”

“Ayuh, I gotcha.” muttered Justice, peering over a hillock at the tower they planned to invade while chewing on a piece of straw. He’d been in it, on it, helped to build it but his memory was so faint that he struggled to make use of the experience. “Four doors, spiral staircase. What else was there?”

“You lead the assault, your history as a military man is invaluable here, with Matty in tow. I can only assume you want to bring your bear friend.” The Doc was right about that. “Though I fear he might arouse more suspicion before it’s time to fight…”

That didn’t matter to Justice. Glen had never left him, not in all the years he’d been enslaved, waiting for him to snap out of it. That loyalty was something he needed in this situation. Meanwhile, Matty had the scroll and a recording of Doc Black reading the whole thing based on Justice’s previous, partial reading and the Doc’s translation of the last part. So, trap Young, hold him in the circle of salt by any means necessary, hold the scroll and play the recording. Hypothetically it could all go off without a hitch.

First, the approach. Luckily, Matty didn’t have to make contact this time as Justice was now dressed in his good clothes and looked clean for a change. He wasn’t able to shave or cut his hair but a brush and a strip of leather controlled the beard and bound his mop of wavy chestnut hair mostly under his broad-brimmed hat.

Approaching, not wearing his gun belt or any other weapon, Justice kept a stiff smile on his face even as the guard at the East door challenged him. “Halt!” he shouted. “What business have you with the Prophet?”

Keeping his eyes hidden Justice did his best to sound authoritative. “I come from the western territory where I was spyin’ for the Prophet. My business is for his ears only.” Okay, felt good. Sounded confident.

Clearly unused to being challenged, perhaps not used to even interacting with other

living beings given how empty the city was now, the guard raised his rifle, a .577 Enfield with attached bayonette. “I … how do I know that’s true?”

“You dare to delay me in my duty? The Prophet will have your head!” Justice raised his voice enough to intimidate but, hopefully, not enough to be heard by the other wall guards.

It became clear that the guard had, indeed, not been challenged in awhile, if at all. “I … okay, I, wait … your eyes!” and Justice dove up the stairs at him. It was just a matter of time before the guard saw that his peepers didn’t glow any more. Now, up close, Justice pinned him to the wall.

“Sorry kid.” said Justice and the lights went out as he rammed his forehead into the young man’s face, making his head the meat in a sandwich where the bottom piece of bread was a slab of skull-shattering stone. Releasing he let the guard slide to the cold, rocky floor. Turning back he waved the boy and the bear on in then held up a finger to indicate “quiet”.

Taking point Justice was horrified to find that the interior of the ground floor was nothing but a wide open area, about fifty feet across with a wooden spiral staircase wrapping around a central pole. “Remember that but … not so run down. Looks creaky…” he muttered.

“Oh great, did you kill the guard then too you murderer?” asked Matty, squeaky voice already grating on Justice’s nerves.

“Nope,” he replied. “Didn’t have time.” and Justice continued on up the stairs. Glen passed Matty, going second, trailed by the teen who cursed under his breath. “I don’t think they’re even people anymore, Matty. Remember? They done gave up their will … or something?”

But there was no cure for Matty’s teen angst. Plus the kid was kind of terrible in general. Those stairs though were indeed creaky, which would be fine if they weren’t trying to sneak up on some sort of demon thing. It was all taking far too long to get where they were going and they were about to pay the price. “A-alarm!” came a voice from below. “Intruders! Alarm!” It was the guard that Justice had knocked out a mere minute before.

“Damn, dude’s got a hard head.” then to Matty. “Guess I should’ve murdered him after all, huh!?” Matty looked in every direction at once, hands waving in confusion. “Now get on, get!” and he dashed down past Matty to one of the poles connecting the staircase.

On three sides men ran in and immediately made for the stairs, no doubt intent on using their bayonets to skewer the intruders. The stunned guard, still wobbling after waking up, took one potshot, a near miss on Justice, before running to a rope and pulling hard. A huge bell sounded above them. “Fuck!” shouted Justice.

There was no inner guardrail on the stairs, so Justice braced against the outside and pushed against the central spire. “Glen! Cut the rope!” he grunted. The bear, still smarter than a typical ursine, immediately hooked the rope with his claws and bit. The guard below, pulling, was jerked into the air, hitting his head on the underside of the stairs. Three quick chews and the rope fell along with said guard, who hit his head on the floor. He wasn’t getting up quick this time.

Switching focus, Justice saw a line in the wood where two sections of stairs were held together by nails and grabbed the guardrail. With great force he began pulling it apart at the seam and, with a twist, broke off the entire section of guardrail below him. It still stood but wasn’t anchored to the central pole any longer. “Keep goin’, Glen!” he shouted as he stomped the next step down, ultimately shattering one board with a hard-soled boot.

Seeing what was happening the three guards below each took a shot at Justice, missing by only a hair. As they worked the lever to reload they cried out with horror, the ground below them shaking. Justice had loosed the beam below a section of steps below him. “Stop! They cried out, one man getting a second shot that grazed Justice’s shoulder.

This only motivated the big man more who, kicking repeatedly at the vertical supports to the outside of the lower stair section was succeeding in buckling it mightily. One last lunging stomp, holding onto the guardrail to keep himself from falling, and the section below came free, cutting the guards off and dropping them painfully as it collapsed. “Go! Go go!” cried Justice, hustling up the stairs, knowing that nobody else could follow. The shots from below, the few they got off before the party of three could get into the chamber at the top of the tower, found no targets.

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Matty and Glen stood on opposite sides of the closed door at the top, seemingly unsure of their next steps. “Are you serious? Cover’s blown, man! Get in there!” and, with that, Justice kicked the door clear off its hinges. It clung by its deadbolt for a second before falling in.

Underwhelmed by the destruction of his heavy oaken door the Prophet stood within, hands clasped behind his back. Bizarre masses of red flesh writhed in the top of the arched roof, down the walls and anywhere not in the center of the floor. To them this was clear proof of the degeneracy that now gripped this historical figure who stood in clean, white robes in stark contrast to his surroundings. “You intrude upon my sanctuary. I know not how you have yet escaped my cleansing of this mudball but that ends n–!” and the Prophet found Justice’s hand in his mouth.

“Are you seriously talkin’ right now! Is it time for a speech!? Matty! Salt! Now!” Justice gripped Young’s tongue and lower jaw with one hand, seemingly trying to rip it off. In fact he was surprised to find Young’s jaw incredibly strong. “Ow! He’s bitin’!”

Diving in Glen the bear was less gentle than ever he’d been before. He got Young’s head in his mouth and started biting but, just like Justice, found him stronger than normal. He did stop biting Justice though, who slapped his exposed cheek several times with the wet hand.

“Why do I have to do it!?” asked Matty as he started to make the salt circle, a much bigger one than before, but luckily with the full bag of salt.

“Because you got the damn salt!” barked Justice as he kneed an old man in the groin. Do you wanna fight him while I do it!?” Two more groin-seeking knee strikes.

“No! Please, God no!” shrieked Matty.

“Damn right! This wrinkled old bastard is tough as–gak!” Justice’s words were cut off as Brigham Young grabbed him by the throat and squeezed with tremendous force. As Justice made horrible, wet gagging sounds the old man screamed in a voice not of this Earth. A gutteral, ringing sound. His power game losing out this time Justice went to the groin over and over before hitting an uppercut that put whatever portion of his head wasn’t in the bear’s mouth into the bear’s mouth! “That shut him up!

It also gagged Glen but there was no time to deal with that now. Even the bear knew it, a choking “Gronk!” indicating that he was still in the fight, keeping the pressure up on Young.

“Do it! Do it now!“ shouted Justice.

“Hold the scroll and … play the tape!” narrated Matty as he did both. The bizarre throat singing started up from the speaker and Young went rigid, arms out to his sides, waves of force blasting off him time and again. Glen and Justice were pushed back, Glen’s jaw getting stretched by the force.

In fact Glen nearly went out the window but, luckily for him, he was ad tight fit. Lucky for him because it was a five story drop. He did notice, however, that a scaffolding was just beneath the eaves of the tower roof. If only he had a way to tell people. “Gronk”, unfortunately, didn’t tell the humans much.

“Fools!” shouted Young. “You think to unbind me with a Servitor scroll!? I have within me the one true power of the universe!” He growled and struggled within the circle, hovering up and above the floor as the bizarre red flesh around them became agitated.

“Justice! What the fuck is that!?” asked Matty, indicating thirty tons, perhaps more, of weird raw meat, clearly alive and starting to encroach upon them. On closer inspection it clearly had human body parts in it. “It’s alive!”

“Aw shit … I think I know where all the people done went.” Looking around there wasn’t much to do about the situation. “Shit … it’s blockin’ the exit door.” Suddenly, distraction costing him, Justice found himself hurled away by the Prophet. “Shit!” he shouted, tumbling into the red mass which clawed at his leathery hide.

“That’s right, meat! Did you really think, when the cleansing is done, that there will be any humans left!? No, the chosen of the Prophet will supplant you, replace you and be made from you!” Taking a step the Prophet bounced off the vertical shaft of light which flashed as it shocked him. He then started pounding on the energy that held him, the force scattering the salt around him into thinner and thinner concentrations.

Glen, Justice noted, had gone out the window at about that moment, his bear butt disappearing after much squeezing. “Glen! No!” Justice shouted, tearing himself free from the red mass, covered in scratches. Shockingly Glen immediately stood up on the other side! Justice had assumed he fell.

“Gronk!” cried Glen before scuttling, backward, down the roof. It was Matty who moved to see where he went, getting pressed against the wall almost immediately by a wave of force as he moved but rolling to get closer. These waves hit each time Young struck his prison but also in a slow rhythm. It seemed sure that Young would soon be free if no one stopped him.

“There’s … it’s a scaffold, I think! We can climb down!” Matty shouted with excitement. “But, oh shit. Company!” Outside, on the roof, Glen could be heard, scuffling with one of the Prophet’s faithful. Matty watched him fall off the roof but the other two coming in the window were the real problem.

Meanwhile the waves of force were becoming overwhelming and Justice was starting to feel a horrible pressure in his ears. He had to do something. So, leaning forward, he pushed on back towards Young, who was cackling like the madman he now was.

“Older than time, boy! Created outside of it by sheer will! We were alive when the universe was a pinpoint. We watched as it exploded and we’ve already how it ends! What hope have y–” and Justice shut him up again.

This time he felt softer. The scroll was, apparently doing its work, but Justice felt his bones starting to loosen from the shock coming off the old guy. So, holding him by his voluminous beard, Justice brought his fist crashing down on the crown of Brigham Young’s head.

Shockingly, the effect was immediate. His dome changed shape immediately, the top of his head flattening, and his words stopped coming out clearly. “Wha … anciit… Burgle…” his eyes, already glowing, became more intense in luminescence even as the shockwaves lessened.

“Justice! I really think we should just get out of here! Fuck!” Matty cursed as he threw himself to the floor, narrowly avoiding a bayonet that was thrust at him through the window.

Justice saw the Faithful at that moment, a second just behind. If he had to contend with themwhlie Young was still capable of fighting the day was assuredly lost. So, just like the first hammerblow Justice swung his fist down in a second. “Foobangle, urgh … phandle…” groaned Young then, hauling back with malice of intent, Justice nailed Young with a third, even mightier blow, and the strike caved in Young’s head was utterly compromised, brains and blood and all sorts of other juices spraying everywhere. Brigham Young was no more.

The Faithful stopped in their tracks, recoiling as a final wave of energy struck them, stunning them for a moment. From everywhere came a rumble, then a hunk of meat fell from the ceiling. “Justice! The recorder!”

“Right!” he called. “Recorder.” Moving quickly, Justice recovered the Doc’s weird future device and made for the window. Justice had one foot out, one in, and called back to the faithful. “You’re free now! You gotta get out of here before the whole thing comes down!

“Is it done!? Did the scroll work? Young’s exorcised? Is it over?” asked Matty, mounting the scaffold.

“Uh, kinda! I sorta smooshed his head a little!”

“What!? But all his followers. Didn’t it make sense that, if he was exorcised, the rest of the Mormons would come back to their senses! This might make it worse!”

“Now how could it get worse!?” shouted Justice, starting his own climb down. As he turned to follow Matty though he saw the window back into Young’s chamber. Bloody corpses were starting to flow out the window, clearly still animated in spite of Young’s passing. Worse, the Faithful, recovering from their stunning, turned and issued forth inhuman screams while pointing at Justice and Matty. “Oh … that’s how.” And sliding down the ladder he went.

A roar went up and they were suddenly aware that, during the fight, whatever remained of the human population here, less than a hundred but all armed, had gathered outside the tower. Their only saving grace was that they waited all around the general area, not sure where our heroes would come from meaning that they weren’t grabbed the instant they touched dirt. From there it was a sprint.