Zachary cried as they took down the flag in front of the capitol building. Some folks watching patted him on the back, not realizing his tears were not happy tears, but tears of loss, tears for his country as people nailed another nail into its coffin.
It wasn’t like he wanted slavery. He knew it was wrong to own other people. And he did think everyone was equal. But, that didn’t make everyone the same. Black and white people were different. They didn’t belong together, they belonged in separate places. And them homos, they were sick people, had some virus or something, and were infecting everybody.
He knew what to do. The Bible said if a man was sick, cast him out. If he lived, let the church leaders figure out if God had healed him before letting him back in.
Them people wanting the flag down wanted to have black and white people get married, and make babies, have men marry men, and women marry women. And that was sick.
“It’s time to start fixing all this shit. Time to start getting rid of the sick people, so the diseases they got won’t infect everybody.” That’s what he said that night, to his friends in the chat room. And they all said the same thing.
Zachary prayed a lot that night. “Grant me the strength to take down Satan’s minions, oh God almighty. Guide me, and my aim. Protect my family from the evil people of this world. Keep them pure and safe.”
At sunrise Zachary gathered his two handguns, and assault rifle. He signed in to the chat room one last time. Several of his buddies were there, checking to see if everyone was ready. They wished each other well. They wished each other victory. They prayed.
It was time to save his country.
He drove his car as he hunted Satan’s minions. People with that cursed rainbow flag thing, men kissing men, men holding hands, women kissing and holding hands, people walking with them. The weak, infected, sick people who didn’t know they were supporting Satan.
He found a group of six men, holding hands. He watched a couple of them kiss each other. Made him sick to watch. Several couples were with them, men and women, shaking hands with the sick men, everybody laughing, smiling.
He parked his car, climbed out, pulled his rifle off his back, checked it was ready to fire, and screamed, “For the glory of God!” People screamed, cried, ran. He made sure he shot all six of the sick men, made sure they were dead. Then, he got in his car, started hunting more of the sick.
“If it’s my time to die today, Almighty Father, then I’ll leave this life behind, and join your heavenly army.” He hoped he didn’t die, but if that’s what it took to save his country from Satan, then so be it.
This is my entry into #FlashMobWrites 1×18, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels. Please, go read all the stories in for #FlashMobWrites 1×18. You might find something you like. But if you don’t try, how will you ever know?