Wonkette Presents THE SPLIT: Chapter Thirty-One

In which our heroine’s long-awaited Rapture Ride experience is interrupted by some unwelcome visitors.

The cars climbed the first rise, enclosed on both sides by walls of cartoony murals depicting the Bible’s greatest hits, some easily identifiable, like the Garden of Eden and the Great Flood, and some that were mystifying to Lorinda and Stimpy. The train climbed and climbed, the angle of incline growing increasingly steep. It finally emerged from the murals, accompanied by a cry of surprise from the first-timers, amazed by how high up they were. Although it was a little dizzy-making for Lorinda — enough so that she reflexively grabbed Stimpy’s arm — she had the presence of mind to survey the scene down below, noting how many white church steeples were sticking up above the level of Revelation’s houses, apartment buildings, schools, and commercial structures. As it crested the peak, the train passed under an arched sign captioned THE CREATION OF ISRAEL AND SIGNS OF THE END TIMES.

Then the coaster started downhill. Straight down. It was almost a ninety-degree drop. As it gained speed, the helpless passengers, including Lorinda, couldn’t help but scream. It was virtual freefall; those who hadn’t experienced the ride before assumed something had gone terribly wrong and they were all about to die. After a brief eternity of terror, the little train plunged into darkness, the tracks flattened out, the wheels screeched, and heavy g-force shoved the riders down into their seats. Then the tracks curved back up again and the coaster emerged into daylight. But it wasn’t just going up. It was going up and over: a full, dizzying, 360-degree vertical loop. After which the train was once again in darkness. It smelled to Lorinda like her basement in Perfecton. The train shuddered to a full stop, accompanied by a different kind of screech and the smell of hot metal (or possibly asbestos) dust from its crude braking system. A booming voice intoned “Welcome to the creation of Israel and signs of the End Times.” Then, accompanied by a thunderclap that caused the riders to jump, thighs colliding with security bars, a diorama next to the coaster was blasted by bright lights. A classic, Shylock-looking man with an exaggerated hooked nose sat at a desk piled with paperwork. On a wall behind him, a sign proclaimed WELCOME HOME JEWS. A small gaggle of big-nosed men and women, dressed in their shtetl finery, leaned eagerly toward the desk.

“The stage is set for the End Times,” the announcer’s voice boomed, “when, in May of 1948, the state of Israel is founded. Christians the world over happily await the return of all the world's Jews to their homeland."

Klezmer music blasted as the diorama came to life. The man behind the desk stood up jerkily and lip-synced “Welcome to Israel” in the voice of the same announcer. The shtetl people, moving clumsily, swarmed him and, one by one, shook his outstretched hand.

The coaster-train inched forward. The diorama went dark.

“Those are good robots,” Lorinda whispered.

“They’re not robots,” Stimpy whispered back. “They’re actors pretending to be robots.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s cheaper than buying robots.”

“Why not just have them be people?”

“Because people aren’t cool. Robots are cool.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Shhh.”

As the train rolled slowly forward, another loud thunderclap scared the riders. The announcer hissed, “Godlessness!” just as the second diorama lit up: a combination opium den, gay bar, and cheesy Roman orgy. To the sound of corny hootchie-kootchie jazz, partly clad actors — again moving robotically — rubbed against each other. “The modern world continues to decline into godlessness,” said the announcer. “As Paul's second epistle to Timothy says, ‘Men are lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemous, disobedient to parents, unthankful, and unholy.’ Christians the world over gaze upon this in dismay, happily awaiting the return of Jesus.”

Three seconds later the music abruptly ended and the lights went out again.

“Pastor Doug never talks about this stuff,” Lorinda said.

“Who the fuck is Pastor Doug?”

“Shhh.”

“False messiahs and prophets,” yelled the announcer. On the other side of the tracks, a wall of old-looking television sets lit up showing popular-culture icons from the USA, familiar only to the older CCSA citizens: music stars, movie stars, comedians, news presenters — accompanied by a tinny version of a song whose words sounded to Lorinda like “Yummy yummy yummy I’ve got love in my tummy.” As the train moved past the screens, the announcer shouted over the music: “As Matthew said, there will be false messiahs and false prophets, deceiving many. Do not follow them! And do not let your children follow them!”

The music stopped, the televisions went dark, and the train plunged nearly straight down, eliciting another nervous scream from the riders. As the train leveled out and stopped, the sound of a martial snare drum faded in and the announcer growled, “Matthew also tells of wars and rumors of wars.” A warmly illuminated, cozy living room appeared, with a mother, a father, an eight-year-old boy, and a six-year-old girl — all immobile, all with frozen grins on their faces — gathered around a screen watching a football game. At the sound of an electronic beep, the two children and the mother turned robotically to look at the father. Dad robotically fished a device out of his pocket, turned to his family, and said: “It’s Dave. He says there’s going to be another war next week.” All but strong, stoic dad started sobbing robotically.

The scene went dark and the train lurched forward and braked sharply three times before it came to rest again. An unidentifiable sound faded in. Was it a heavy wind? An earthquake? A volcano erupting? When the sound reached its peak, a curved wall displaying pictures of natural disasters slowly lit up, one fading into the next as the announcer gravely said: “Famine, pestilences, earthquakes.”

The wall of disaster reached its full illumination. The riders became slowly aware that there was someone else looking at it — a dark, brooding figure in a sort of monk’s robe, with the hood up. The figure slowly — robotically — turned to face the spectators and let the hood fall back as a heavenly choir started to sing on the soundtrack. It was Jesus! A classic blond, long-haired, Nordic Jesus, who lifted his arms up and out as if to embrace his flock. Then, lip-syncing to the announcer’s voice, he said, “I am ready to summon you.” Sobbing could be heard from a few cars of the coaster-train.

“Look,” whispered Stimpy, gesturing toward the Christ figure. “He’s sixteen years old. His beard’s slipping off!” As the young actor attempted, robotically, to straighten out the beard, his blond wig started falling to one side. Lorinda and Stimpy did their best to keep from laughing.

The lights went out and the little train began to roll. In a moment it was straining and juddering uphill at a steep angle, approaching daylight. The area surrounding the ride came into view. They were three or four stories up. People down below were strolling, chatting, and occasionally looking up and waving to the Rapture riders. “I can’t believe there’s another forty-five minutes of this,” Lorinda said. She gazed past Stimpy, scanning life down below. Then her expression changed to one of sheer terror. She bent over and tried to bury her face in his lap, bumping her head on the security bar in the process. 

“What?” he said.

“It’s her! Down there!”

“Who?”

“Janelle Stark!”

Stimpy casually turned and looked down. He saw Stark immediately, a woman in a black jumpsuit, her head heavily bandaged, surrounded by conspicuously armed thugs, all in CCSA Domestic Security uniforms except for the huge one standing next to her, who was in a tight-fitting suit. On the fringe of the group was a nervous-looking young man in street clothes, also with a bandaged face.

Lorinda, her head still low, reached into her purse, took out the Rapture pager she’d been given by the ticket kid, and held it up so Stimpy could see it. “Good idea, but not yet,” he said. He looked forward, saw that the lead car was just approaching the peak, then saw the service ladder he was hoping to see. When he looked back down to the Confederals, the woman appeared to be ordering her minions to disperse in various directions.

“Okay,” Stimpy said. “Now!”

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PREVIOUSLY in THE SPLIT!

Chapter One. In which we meet our heroine and her dainty little gun.

Chapter Two. In which Lorinda demonstrates her bartending virtuosity.

Chapter Three. In which our heroine receives a promotion and prepares to celebrate.

Chapter Four. In which our heroine proves herself an immoral citizen of the CCSA.

Chapter Five. In which our heroine goes to church.

Chapter Six. In which Lorinda contemplates her future, ignores Pastor Doug, and gets something unexpected from Emmie.

Chapter Seven. In which Lorinda learns something that threatens her big dream.

Chapter Eight. In which our heroine freaks out.

Chapter Nine. In which our heroine says the forbidden word as an unwelcome visitor arrives.

Chapter Ten. In which two unpleasant men perturb our heroine.

Chapter Eleven. In which our heroine seems to have found a solution to her problem.

Chapter Twelve. In which that black truck follows our heroine all the way to Austin.

Chapter Thirteen. In which Lorinda lashes out.

Chapter Fourteen. In which our heroine gets a taste of life in the big city.

Chapter Fifteen. In which our heroine meets a fellow bartender and has a drink.

Chapter Sixteen. In which Lorinda once again takes a swing with her little pink gun.

Chapter Seventeen. In which our heroine prepares to escape.

Chapter Eighteen. In which our heroine gets in a truck with a couple of slightly scary strangers.

Chapter Nineteen. In which our heroine learns that she’s got a long way to go.

Chapter Twenty. In which our heroine spends a night in a gas station.

Chapter Twenty-One. In which our heroine learns about the enclaves of the CCSA.

Chapter Twenty-Two. In which our heroine learns way too much about the enclaves of the CCSA.

Chapter Twenty-Three. In which our heroine experiences liberty run amok.

Chapter Twenty-Four. In which our heroine’s escape is disastrously derailed.

Chapter Twenty-Five. In which our heroine finds herself back at the gas station.

Chapter Twenty-Six. In which Stimpy, on the road to Revelation, reveals Ren’s real name.

Chapter Twenty-Seven. In which our heroine manages not to crash the car as she learns more about CCSA enclaves.

Chapter Twenty-Eight. In which Lorinda and Stimpy enter Revelation.

Chapter Twenty-Nine. In which our heroine has pizza for the first time and readies herself to be an old fogie.

Chapter Thirty. In which our heroine finally gets to experience the Rapture Ride.

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