Seven

“It was one thing for them to attack our camps, and bases. That we could live with. That we knew was coming.” John Paul looked up at the stars, and the moon, “But, they’ve been attacking more and more. Even places where we aren’t.” He raised his hands to God, “Why? Please, tell me why?”

God didn’t need to answer because John Paul knew the answer. No life was sacred to Satan’s minions. They’d do anything, kill anyone. They’d lash out blindly, like they had.

“We did our part, Father! We did what we had to do. We cleaned them out. We got rid of them. The devils. The demons. Those disguised as humans, the transgender monsters, the faggots, the vile Muslims.” It took everything he had not to cry. “We even put the animal niggers back in their place!” His heart was breaking, and he knew it. “And then they attacked.”

John Paul had made the long journey home from Norfolk. He’d received the phone call two weeks earlier. “You need to get here.” It was a call all his brothers in God’s Army knew too well. The call no one wanted to hear.

The bare, burned ground was hard, and cold against his knees, even through his pants. He hadn’t been able to stand since he’d arrived, however many hours ago that had been. He could make out the charred remains of the carriage of his mobile home. Along with pieces of his truck, scattered about.

His home was gone. His wife. His child. Gone. All that was left was ashes.

John Paul couldn’t imagine the nightmare it had been. The absolute silence of the darkness before the dawn, when even the crickets were silent, and the birds were all asleep. Everyone asleep, resting, getting ready to work the next day. He’d told her not to help. Told her it was dangerous to make the chemical packets the drones delivered against God’s enemies. Told her Satan’s minions would come for her, and all the neighbors.

He couldn’t imagine the sound of the sky being torn in half as the unmanned aircraft had flown just above the trees, faster than any human possibly could, with its computer guidance system guiding it, and adjusting its course 100,000 times a second. He wondered if his family even heard the sound.

John Paul couldn’t imagine the flash of light as the drone sent a video guided missile into his home. He couldn’t imagine the sound of the trailer’s roof being torn asunder as the missile collided with it, then passed through it, like a bullet through the side of a soda can.

And he couldn’t imagine the sound, the light, the smoke, the fire, the shock wave, when the missile then exploded.

“I pray they died in their sleep, Father.” He stared at his hands as they shook.

“I have nothing left, Father.” He wouldn’t cry. Only weak men cried. Only Satan’s minions cried. He heard the words of God once more, “There is a time for peace, and a time for war.”

He stayed on his knees. It didn’t matter how long. He couldn’t move.

It wasn’t until the sun began to rise that he knew what he had to do. The same thing that had happened in other strongholds of Satan’s armies. Where brave, Christian soldiers, men of God, did what had to be done to defeat Lucifer. He felt his strength returning.

“There is something at work in my soul,” John Paul looked at the sun as it rose above the horizon. “And you know what it is, Father.” He looked to the heavens once more. “Tell my family, my only child, and my beloved wife. Tell them I’ll be with them soon.”

He placed a call to his superiors. “I want to hand deliver a package to Norfolk, Virginia.”

“You know the procedure,” was all the response he received, before the line went dead.

It wouldn’t be long before he crossed back into Virginia, and returned to the Norfolk Naval Station. But this time, John Paul would carry a package in his backpack. When the time and place were right, he’d explode that package. He’d die in the explosion. He knew that.

The explosion would spread the contents of the package, and kill everyone demon within 50 miles of him, when he died. And each demon would die horribly, in agony, as their cells began exploding. One at a time.

It’s what Lucifer’s children deserved.

—–

Mark (I’m not on twitter anymore)
745 words


This is my entry into the Monster Mash 2016 writing challenge over at Ink After Dark. Thanks to Ruth Long, Cara Michaels, and Laura James for hosting the challenge. Please, by all means, visit Ink After Dark, and read the other entries in Monster Mash 2016.

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