Stranger than Fiction

Originally published May 14, 1993, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1017

Several years back, I wrote a four-issue run on Web of Spider-Man about a group called the “Cult of Love.” A grief-stricken Betty Leeds was easy pickings for the mind-manipulating group, and the story focused on Spider-Man’s attempts to get her out of the Cult’s clutches.

(The story also featured a subplot about Mary Jane contemplating posing nude for Playboy—a storyline which was the victim of last minute editorial cold feet. It was art-and-dialogue-changed to MJ’s trying to decide whether she should model skimpy lingerie—rendering the subsequent angst totally nonsensical. So if you ever happen to reread the story, all you have to do is substitute “naked” for “in skimpy underwear” and mentally undress MJ during the photo sequences, which shouldn’t be too much of a chore. But I digress.)

At the climax of the story, a crazed cult member wound up torching the whole establishment. Most of the cultists managed to get out, although the leader did not, when the roof collapsed on him.

The storyline was written up in the Skeptical Inquirer, a publication that debunks professional scam psychics and other “paranormal” activities. They said nice things about it because it helped to explain, in detail, some of the tricks that cult leaders use to convince their followers that they are genuine miracle workers.

It was a nice little four-parter (Mary Jane story butchering aside), but I hadn’t given it much thought until recently when I was at home watching CNN, which was covering the FBI tear-gas assault on the Branch Davidians, the followers of self-proclaimed messiah David Koresh. And I watched in amazement as, suddenly, fire started to break out in several different places in the compound.

Newscasters spoke with utter calm in describing the inferno. On the one hand I admired their professionalism; on the other, it made me think of the genuine horror in the voice of the newscaster during the crashing and burning of the Hindenburg. “Oh, the humanity!” wailed the broadcaster, a phrase that still crops up to this day—usually in a comedy setting as the years have divorced the phrase from the frightful circumstances that spawned it.

Perhaps the difference was that the Hindenburg was unexpected. Although the tragedy in Waco was likewise unexpected, somehow—with 20/20 hindsight—it seemed inevitable. People weren’t going around before it happened saying, “Bet they torch the place.” But, afterward, what we were left with was more of an amazed realization of just how serious they were.

Last time I was in Texas, I saw people wearing t-shirts that claimed “Waco” actually stood for “We Ain’t Comin’ Out.” To anyone watching CNN that day, it became clear that the sentiment was not just a joke, not just lip service.

In a time where lead news items focus on change, compromise, broken promises replaced by new promises which will inevitably be broken once more, we’re always caught off guard when we learn of individuals who make a simple declaration and are prepared to die rather than violate it. Such people are called heroes or fanatics depending upon whether or not you share their views.

It is far too early in the investigation to know all the whys and wherefores of what exactly went down in Texas. There are, however, a number of conclusions that can be drawn from all this:

1) The true difficulty of writing fiction is that fact is much more horrific. Supposedly the greatest difficulty in producing horror fiction is that, sooner or later, you have to show the monster behind the door. Such revelatory moments are inevitably disappointing, since the horrors that individual audience members can conjure for themselves are invariably going to be far more personal and, therefore, far more horrific than whatever the writer is going to toss at them.

The Waco incident would prompt me to disagree. I think the most difficult thing about producing horror fiction is managing to keep one step ahead of what humans do to themselves, willingly or unwillingly. Vampires, werewolves, killer dolls come to murderous life—in all these cases, we can take refuge in the deep-down knowledge that such things don’t really exist. But the corpses of over a dozen children under the age of 17, burned to a crisp—these exist. We find ourselves dwelling on what it must have been like. Were they dead before the fire got to them, from bullet wounds either self-inflicted or administered by some cultists when others were starting to undergo second thoughts?

Or were they alive for every last skin-roasting, blood boiling moment? Burning to death is one of the worst, if not the worst, ways to die. We read a Stephen King novel or a Clive Barker comic book or a four-parter in Web of Spider-Man and we know these things didn’t really happen. But nothing can shut out the knowledge, the true atrocity, of the waste of human life at the Davidian complex.

How in hëll is any writer worth his salt supposed to keep up with that?

2) Never underestimate the extremities to which humans can be driven. Some years back, when Patty Hearst claimed that she had been brainwashed by the Symbionese Liberation Army, and hence was not responsible for her criminal career as Tania, the plea was widely rejected by jurors and the American public. And while Hearst languished in jail, cult leader Jim Jones and his followers gave a major kick in the groin to the Kool-Aid publicity people when Jones and company chug-a-lugged poisoned fruit-flavored drink. Not Kool-Aid, but Kool-Aid took the heat.

As the country was rocked by this incontrovertible evidence as to just what power a charismatic leader can have, it was pointed out—by John Wayne, I believe—”Isn’t it amazing that Americans are willing to accept that 90 people would kill themselves at the command of one man, but they won’t believe that one scared little girl in a closet could be brainwashed by a group of terrorists?” I don’t know if there was any immediate cause and effect, but as I recall—and I’m sure someone will correct me if I’m wrong—President Jimmy Carter commuted Hearst’s sentence shortly thereafter. After 22 months in jail, she was free.

And I can’t help but wonder if she was at home watching CNN, watching the funeral pyre of the Davidians, flashing back to the violent end of the SLA, and thinking to herself, “There but for the grace of God…”

3) David Koresh was not the messiah. Recent polls have shown that 97 percent of Americans believe that the FBI was not to blame for what happened and was right in tear-gassing the place. I tend to agree, although the subsequent claims that they had no clue that the Davidians might opt for a major cook-out strikes me as somewhat disingenuous.

Granted, the fire department couldn’t have gotten close anyway—no one is going to send firefighters in to try and stop a blaze, if they might get perforated by unwilling rescuees. But the Feds saying, “Gee, we never thought they’d do it”? I mean, c’mon, guys. Get serious.

This 97% vote of confidence in the FBI would also seem to indicate that the vast, vast majority of those polled (and probably the country) were assuming that Koresh was not, in fact, Jesus. This is a predominantly Christian country (the Jew reluctantly admits), and I think if you asked the same polled people, “Did King Herod deal with Jesus in proper fashion?” or, even more on point, “Would it be right for the FBI to tear gas the genuine son of God?” my guess is that you’d get responses skewed in a different direction.

Considering that it’s been three days and Koresh is, to the best of my knowledge, still maintaining the status of crispy critter, I think we can safely assume that his claims of divinity are severely undercut by the fact that—like Francisco Franco—he’s still dead.

Of course, as of this writing, only 40 bodies have been found. It is possible that the entire thing was a diversion; that Koresh had some sort of tunnels or secret hiding places prepared underground, and that this was part of a plan to set up his “return.” Perhaps even now he’s on the horn with the publishers of the Amy Fisher comic book or preparing a set of “Messiah Trading Cards.” Anything is possible—but for the sake of argument, I’m assuming that Koresh had the strength of his convictions and that he is now—literally—toast.

So he wasn’t Jesus (for those awaiting the second coming) or the Messiah (for those awaiting the first) or whatever divine being represents each and every person’s spiritual hope for heaven on earth and/or redemption.

So he was a nut. A highly publicized nut. (As one person on CompuServ put it, a hot roasted nut.) And he went down in a house of flames and brought men and women and pregnant women and helpless children down with him. People who thought they were in the company of the Messiah and—unless 97% of Americans surveyed are wrong—are in for a fairly bitter disappointment in whatever afterlife there may be. And if there is, as some believe, no afterlife at all, then the waste of human existence is that much greater.

I’ll tell you one thing: If the Messiah does come, he or she had better do so in one of two ways.

Either as the book of Revelations would have one believe, namely on a cloud with a chorus of angels accompanying. I have to admit, even I, your humble Jew, would be somewhat daunted if I tuned in the TV and saw that on my screen. Oh sure, first I’d check to see if I’d accidentally tuned in to a David Copperfield special. I would, however, be rather impressed by a display like that.

Or else the Messiah should keep a low profile and just go around and help people. Anyone who proclaims, “I am the Messiah” is going to be written off by the vast majority of the populace as a flake. Who needs the CNN coverage and the write-ups? Instead He or She would most likely be in war-torn countries helping people, or in labs trying to cure cancer or AIDS, or in government trying to ensure world peace. In short: helping.

And as the pointless, unpleasant occurrences in Waco indicate, mankind needs all the help it can get.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, hopes that readers will indulge his mild foray into theology, and promises [in the words of the nun] not to make a habit of it.)