Iscariot

Paul sat alone at one end of the bar watching the smoke-bleared TV that was bolted to the wall.  The new presidential candidate was delivering one of the impassioned speeches that he had become famous for.  All of his supporters, Paul was one of them, agreed he could talk circles around the incumbent.  Not only that but they actually believed he could deliver on the promises he made.  Paul sipped his beer and watched, his spirit lifted by every word.  He felt hope for the nation.  Surprising, considering he was a self proclaimed cynic.
         He was so enthralled by what was on the screen he did not see the man who had sat down next to him.  Paul took out a box of cigarettes and prepared to light one.
         “Those things will kill you,”
         He jumped a little in surprise and turned to examine the newcomer.  The stranger was a young man with olive skin and curly hair, worn slightly long.  To Paul he looked vaguely Spanish, maybe Middle Eastern.
         “Excuse me?”
         “Cigarettes.  They’ll kill you.  I’ve seen it happen plenty of times,” the stranger said with a small grin.
         “Oh, ok…” Paul looked away confused.  He had sat at the end of the bar to be left alone, and was not in the mood to make small talk
         “Now that that’s out of the way, do you think you could spare one?”
         “I thought you said they were bad for you,” Paul said flatly
         The stranger grinned even wider.
         “I figure if I tell people that I’ll be able to quit myself,”
         Paul laughed and held out the box.  He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the stranger was not a bad sort. The stranger took one and reached into the green navy pea coat he was wearing and pulled out an embossed and highly ornate lighter.
         “That looks expensive,” said Paul trying to be polite
         “It was a gift.  I got it a long time ago,”
         “Very nice,” Paul said
         “Say, what’s your name anyways friend?” the stranger asked
         “Paul.  Nice to meet you,” he offered his hand to be shaken
         The stranger pumped it up and down enthusiastically.  Paul went back to his drink, not waiting for the stranger’s introduction
         “Name’s Judas,” the man declared
         Paul snorted into his beer.  He turned to him.
“Are you serious?” he asked in good humor
“Oh yeah,”
“That’s… unfortunate,” Paul commented awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.
“You have no idea,” said Judas with a smirk.
         The two sat in silence for a while, and eventually Paul went back to watching the speech.  The stranger watched too, but he looked sad and distant.  Paul assumed he was one of the current president’s supporters.  He knew it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t resist.  He asked:
         “So what do you think of this guy?”
         Judas sighed and turned to him.
         “He’s the Anti-Christ,” he said completely levelly
         It was not the response Paul had expected.  He stuttered briefly, looking for a retort.
         “Oh, come on!  He’s not that bad!  Better than that schmuck who’s in office now!”
         Judas sighed again. 
         “I’m serious,” he said “He is literally the Anti-Christ,”
         Paul was at a loss.  He was also beginning to think that his judgment of the man as ‘not such a bad sort’ was incorrect.
         “What?” Paul asked incredulously
         “The Anti-Christ.  The son of the devil.  The alter boy of doom.  The one who’s coming will bring about the end of days,” Judas said
         “What are you talking about, buddy?” Paul was starting to get nervous
         “You’re probably wondering how I know this,”
         That was in fact untrue.  At that very moment Paul was wondering if his new friend was going to go for his throat.  Judas turned back to the TV.
         “I am Judas Iscariot,” he said flatly
         “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Paul said, still in disbelief anyone would make such a claim.
         “You need to listen to me.  I know you don’t believe me, I know you think I’m insane, but what I’m telling you is the truth,”
         Paul looked around the pub.  The room was almost empty.  There was a couple sitting in one of the booths and the bartender was flirting with a pretty blonde at the other end of the bar.  Judas rubbed his temples like he was trying to relieve a bad headache.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,”
“I wonder why!”
         Judas pointed to a thick white scar on his neck. 
         “You want proof?  This is from when I hung myself!”
         Suddenly Paul felt outraged.  He was getting the notion that this man was not insane, just mean and playing a cruel joke.  Did this stranger honestly believe that anyone would fall for something like that?  He said the first thing that came to mind and he said it vehemently:
         “Bullshit!”
         Judas started in surprise.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Paul cut him off.
         “Ok, you prick, I’ll play your little game.  Lets say that you actually are Judas Iscariot.  First, how are you still alive after all this time?  Second, even if you are over two thousand years old, that scar would have faded by now.  Third, the thirty pieces of silver would be better evidence,”
         Paul noticed that the bartender and the pretty blonde were watching them.  Once they say he had noticed, they turned away and pretended to be busy.  Judas leaned closer.
         “Keep your voice down!”  he whispered urgently “I don’t want people to think I’m crazy!”
         “Too late!”
         “Ok.  I’m not going to answer your questions.  If you don’t believe me, that’s fine.  I’ll find someone else.”
         “That sounds fantastic to me, ya fucking psycho!” Paul was shouting by now.  What little activity that had been going on in the room stopped as the four other people turned to watch.  Paul stood up, pulled on his coat and headed for the door.  Judas grabbed at his arm.  He looked desperate and, to Paul at least, dangerous.
         “Come on man, you’ve got to listen to me!”
         “Like hell, I do!” 
         Paul pushed roughly past him.  The couple in the both tactfully turned back to their drinks, the blonde pretended to smooth her dress, the bartender stared with his mouth open. 
         “Its the end of the fucking world man!  I need your help!” 
         He didn’t even turn around.  He held his middle finger up over his shoulder and walked outside. 
         Judas hung his head and let out a deep, disappointed sigh.  The bartender rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 
         Judas turned to him and asked
         “Do you have any wine?”


         Paul stared out the window of his apartment.  Another ball of fire plunged out of the sky and struck a minivan parked across the street.  It was around midnight on Election Day and the polls showed that the presidential candidate, Howard Malachi, had beaten the incumbent in a landslide victory.  There was a muffled, buzzing voice at his side and he raised the phone to his ear again. 
              “Yeah mom, I’m here.  No, it’s still raining fire.”
                Paul was suddenly remembering the warning the man claiming to be Judas had said.  But that was crazy; the new president really couldn’t be the Anti-Christ, could he?  A bolt of fire screamed past his window.
              “Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back.  What?  You and dad are in Wisconsin.  I’m in New York.  I can’t come right now.  No, I don’t think this has anything to do with global warming.  No, just go into the storm cellar, I’m sure you’ll be fine.  Love you too.  I’ll call back later.”
              He trotted back to the window.  If it was the apocalypse, no one was admitting it.  The news reports running in tandem with the election results were chalking it up to a freak and undetected meteor storm.  Weird.  But Paul was getting a small sense of satisfaction from the fact that his candidate had won the election, whether or not some crazy said he was the son of Satan.
              There was a knock at the door.  Paul grabbed an umbrella from the corner and went to answer.  He was ready for a fight.  The news had also been reporting crowds rioting and looting in major cities throughout the country.  He tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon and looked out the peephole.  It was Judas. Paul engaged the security chain and opened the door a crack. 
              “What the hell do you want?”
              “Let me in!  There’s not much time!”
              Judas was still wearing the pea coat, only now it was smoldering. 
            “Come on Paul, its only going to get worse!
              Against his better judgment, Paul opened the door.  Judas stumbled in carrying two silver suitcases. 
            “Thanks for that, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”