“So, which plan will we go with? Ezekiel said it was up to you.”
“Plan A, time is a commodity the gods don’t give. We have to hit hard and fast—”
The door burst open. Men in tactical gear ran in, armed with assault rifles.
Mrs. Isador’s eyes flew open. She knocked the candle onto the map and it caught fire. The man with her opened fire on the assailants but the bullets bounced off them. They were Touched.
The man’s head blew open as bullets ripped into him. Mrs. Isador ran for the window but her foot was caught and she fell on her face, busting her nose.
The men dropped onto her back and held her still.
“No! No!” It couldn’t end like this.
She felt her arms get tied up and hog-tied to her feet. A black bag was put over her head and with a strong blow to the head, she was knocked out.
…
Mrs. Isador awoke to darkness. She tried to move her arms but they were tied to something. She pulled harder. Nothing.
She swung her feet, they were hanging free. She kicked but nothing was around her.
“Awake, are we?” a voice said. The bag was pulled off her head. In front of her stood a man seven feet tall. He wore a black apron and black gloves. A mask covered his face. But she could still see who it was.
“Juraj? The god of medicine.”
“In the flesh, as your people would say.”
She looked around her cell; it was small and dark. Dried blood was caked on the floor. A small metal table stood next to her, covered with sharp metal utensils.
It reeked of dead flesh.
“What … What are you going to do?”
“I believe you know what I’m going to do.”
“I thought you were one of the good ones!” she screamed. His eyes winced when she said that. He sighed.
“I have no choice.” He picked up a small scalpel.
“No, no, no, no…”
“I’m going to need you to tell me everything you know.”
He walked up to her. She tried to kick him away but her small legs did nothing to his thick frame. He raised the scalpel and approached her right eye.
She screamed.
Queen leaned against the wall outside of the cell door. She listened to the screams. It was music to her ears. Queen rubbed the scar on her right cheek. She hated the sterile light of the place. There were hundreds of other cells in the prison hall.
While her prisoner was tortured, she thought back to the previous week. Her plan was still in motion. She closed her eyes.
The Omniscient Man promised to leave her alone. Even though she wanted the power he had once promised her, she would have to leave that wish behind.
She needed to take care of Michael and Svante first. She wasn’t powerful enough to kill them. But she needed them out of her way. There were other gods who opposed her, but they were neither the judge and executioner, nor the god of war. She needed to turn them. She didn’t want another war, another slaughtering.
There was only one way to bring the gods together: to allow the rebels to win. To cause artificial dissidence in the human masses so they all could rebel against the gods, to cause a civil war between the believers of Ifor and the naysayers. And then, the gods could strike with all their might.
With her in command. The gods would get on their knees to beseech to her, to apologize for the doubts they had, the doubts they casted on others. They would admit she was right. Humanity had to be controlled with an iron fist.
Because of the Omniscient Man, the rebels might play right into her hands. She still didn’t know how he would help them. But she doubted it would be enough to bring down Ifor itself.
She felt a soul nearby pass and the screams stopped. Queen opened her eyes. Juraj walked out of the cell, untying his bloody apron.
“She was a powerful woman, she didn’t give up a thing.”
“I thought your power was to prolong death so we could get information from people, Juraj.”
“My specialty is not to torture people, Queen! I’m the god of medicine, not some freaking serial killer. I held out as long as I could with her. She didn’t give up a single thing.”
“Beaten by a human. How sad. Who do you think gave you that moniker? Why do you think you’re working for me right now? What were you before you pled to be given that position, as, oh yeah, the god of healing? Only some back-water village worshipped you and nobody knew who you were. You were nothing. But now people praise you whenever they get over their ailments, now you live on some of the highest peaks of our mountains and now you’re saying you want to give up.”
Jaraj’s face turned into anger.
“I hate how you revel in the death of people, Queen. As the god of death you must get off on this, touching yourself, watching people die in pain, as their eyes pass from this world of the living to the Radiant. I regret getting to know you.”
“I am who He made me. He gave life and I give death. If you want to blame someone, blame our creator.”
Juraj looked at her and clenched his teeth.
“Sorry … I just don’t like the things you make me do to keep my position.”
“Are you still on my side?”
“What?”
“If there was a war with the gods, would you still be on my side?”
Juraj sighed. “Yes.”
“I’m taking you off of interrogation.”
“Thank you.”
Juraj walked off.
Queen watched him walk off. It was almost too easy to control him. She then glanced at the body in the cell, hanging flayed.
She didn’t wince, or wheeze. She didn’t feel anything as she looked at the mess. She pulled out her handkerchief and started to wipe her hands.
She thought, why did He make her the way she was? Why did He stop speaking to her?
…
Sara sat on a bed in a hotel room as she typed on her laptop. She was in a chat room. She was speaking to someone called Killergod. He sent a message saying that her contributions would be noted.
August was asleep next to her; it was only 7 A.M. Sara got up and put on her shoes and left.
Her car pulled up to a church and she got out. It was called the He’s Devotion. She walked in.
There were two aisles on both sides of the rows. The place was empty. A statue of He dominated the far wall. It was an ivory man sitting on a golden throne. She knew that wasn’t how He truly looked. No human could describe the face of creation itself.
She sat down near the front and prayed. Prayed for her brother, mother and father. Prayed for August, and prayed for a safe journey home.
She saw him. He. When she was in the hospital. He spoke to her and showed her guidance and apologized for all she’d been through. He saved her and now she needed to return the favor. He promised her that everything would be okay, if she listened to what He said. Her mission to kill the gods was fruitless and so was running away.
There was a donation bucket near the front. Sara walked up to it and placed a few dollars in and left.
…
August’s nostrils stung with a strong scent. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock. It was 9 A.M. He sat up and saw Sara praying on the floor. A makeshift memorial was on the floor in front of her, lit sticks of incense covering it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She stood up and put out the incense. A cross glimmered on her neck.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
She quickly started tearing down the memorial.
“It is.”
“You were praying.”
“No—”
“Sara!” August shouted.
“Ye… yes, I was.”
“Why? Why would you start praying now?After all that’s happened to you because of Him?”
“Because He saved my life!”
August was taken back.
“What?”
“I should be dead from that explo
sion but I’m not. He saved me.”
“It was luck.”
“I know it was Him. I saw Him, He protected me and I have to pay Him back.”
“By doing what? Destroying every last thing we’ve done in the past eight months? Spitting in the face of the rebels?”
“Shut up about the rebels. If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve fucking died on the couch. I did all the work while you sat on your ass doing nothing! You were never serious about killing the gods, you were never serious about anything! I just want to go home, August.”
“Then leave.”
Sara looked at him. Her eyes teared up.
August couldn’t respond to her tears. After all they’d done, she was going to start worshipping them now?
“I…I…”
“You what!?”
“I don’t want to go without you … I love you, August.”
August’s heartbeat slowed, the tension leaving his body. She started to cry. She was afraid. She needed him.
August walked up to her.
“Please, August. Come home with me.”
She hugged him and cried into his shoulder. He hugged back.
Why was he submitting to her? After all they've been through, she wanted to turn her back on all they've worked on now?
August felt her heart beat, her warmth. His temper dwindling as his love for her swelled.
Who was he kidding? August was never serious about killing the gods. After killing his father, he just wanted to stay on the couch and revel in his darkness. She followed him out here, helped him get on his feet and never got too angry at him for his stupidity or shame. She was his love and she made it known. He would do anything for her.
Even if that meant getting himself killed.
…
A baby wailed in Kevan’s arms. He stood over Luna in a hospital bed as she held his son. His daughter was restless in his arms. They were his seed, his creation. He needed to protect them.
Luna looked up at him. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Just wanted you to know that. Don’t do anything stupid.” She went back to playing with their son. Why did she say that?
A tear dropped on his daughter’s forehead. He wiped it away. His mother was gone. But as one soul left this world, another one entered it.
…
Kevan stared at a dirt hole in the ground. Nothing was in it yet. Was this where they would all go when they die? He remembered Ifor preaching about some Wavering Radiant or something that everybody went to when they died. He didn’t believe in it.
Kevan wore a black trench coat; it was a colder than usual morning. He stuck his hands in its pockets.
A pastor was saying some words in front of the hole. A picture of his mother was next to him, and her casket next to that.
A closed casket. She had always wanted an open casket funeral. But this would have to do. It would be an evil thing to do. To ask the mortician to glue her skull back together.
The pastor paused when he noticed Kevan wasn’t listening. “Would you like to continue my service?”
Kevan glanced at him. The pastor had set up chairs for his mother’s friends and family. But she didn’t have any friends, and he was the only family she had left. Not even the next-door neighbors came. Probably Ifor’s doing.
The pastor continued, “Nobody showed up, I could charge you half-price instead of the full price.”
“No. She would want this. Continue.”
The pastor continued his sermon as Kevan stared at the hole in the ground.
…
Kevan stood in front of an open car trunk. Brookes stood next to him. Inside the trunk was a variety of weapons, big and small. Precise and explosive.
“Your pick,” Brookes said.
“I have what I need.”
“Take it anyway.” Brookes handed him a bag full of weapons and closed the trunk and sat on top of it. “When your brother comes back, you’ll have 24 hours to kill him.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t give me that look. This is your fault. I can’t promise the safety of your new family if you don’t take care of the old one. You’re going to have to show your loyalty to Ifor.”
“How do you know my brother is coming back? He could be anywhere.”
“I have my sources. He’ll be here soon. I would get ready. I wouldn’t give him time to talk. Just shoot him. That’ll make it easier for yourself and leave no time to hesitate.”
…
The California coast stretched beyond the horizon. August drove down the Pacific Coast highway. The sun was at high noon. Sara sat next to him digging through her bag.
She pulled out a small box.
August asked, “What’s that?”
“Something for my brother.”
“That helps. What is it?”
“An effigy.”
“Why do you have that?”
“His body was never laid to rest. I’m going to bury it in his memory.”
August looked at her; she was staring at the box.
“Where?”
“We need to stop at the train-yard. We can bury him there.”
“Okay,” he said.
He went back into his thoughts. It would be nice, getting to bury a memory of his friend before he was arrested. He ran a play of the next few hours in his head.
Sara said they could stay with one of her friends and August didn’t want to see his brother again. The shame it would bring to him, for what he did. August really didn’t regret his father’s death. But he did regret having to put his mother and brother through it.
First, they would bury the effigy. Then, they would go to her friend’s house. And then not an hour later, the doors would burst open and he would be surrounded by police. Taken and tortured in the gods’ prisons before being put to trial and sentenced to death. Hung from a pillar of ivory, with his body whipped bloody and left to die for the whole world to see. Left to die as an enemy of the human race, as the bugs crawled through his open sores.
He rubbed the handgun in his pocket. He wasn’t going to die like that. As an example. He was going to go down with a fight.
He looked at Sara; she was staring at the box in her lap. Sorry, Sara. But he was never completely into this revolution. He was never a fighter or a hero. He was a coward, a fake. He had never had any drive in his life. He was lazy and selfish and now he was going to die like a coward. Going out with a bang. Maybe the rebels could use him as a martyr, to inspire humans to rise up against the gods. Maybe then his life would’ve had some worth. Only then would he have done some good in the world.
Looking past everything he’d done in his life. Coasting through school with a B average. Losing job after job after high school with nothing to show for it. To killing his father who was just doing his job. He’d never done anything special or exceptional. They would never make him a martyr, they’d never make him a hero. He didn’t deserve to become one. He hadn’t done any good and he probably never would.
So what use was he to the world?
He stared out onto the road as it curved along the mountains. The blue ocean reflecting in the sun light. Almost losing Sara, he learned that the only thing he had left in the world was her.
It looked like she was the only one returning home.
He had no home left.
…
Kevan sat on his mother’s couch. The house was his now, she had given it to him in her will. The place was still dusty and dirty. He wasn’t sure what he would do with it.
Luna would love to live in a house, but there were too many bad memories there. He wanted to sell it, but there were still other things on his mind.
His phone dinged next to him. A text message popped up. It said “Trainyard.” Kevan stood up and walked to the gun rack. This was it. He looked over the guns and stopped at an M1 carbine. The M1 had been his father’s favorite gun.
Fitting.
Kevan grabbed it.
�
�
August and Sara stood over a small hole in the ground. The sun was starting to set over the train-yard. The wind began to pick up. August shivered in his small jacket. Sara suggested he buy a better one. But he wouldn’t need a jacket or anything after today.
Sara stepped closer to the hole. “A place so nobody will disturb it.” She placed the box in the hole and August filled it in with dirt.
Sara closed her eyes. “He is in his heaven, all is well in the world,” she whispered.
August stared at the dirt. All is well in the world, he thought. It looked like he would meet He sooner than he thought.
Sara said, “August.”
August looked up. She was staring at the woods. Kevan was walking toward them from the woods, with his gun raised.
August pulled out his gun and held it beside him. Sara walked off to the car without a word.
Maybe it would be better if his brother would kill him. To complete the circle of violence. August stared at the train tracks, his brother closing in, gun raised, not firing a shot.
“Well, are you going to do it?” August asked.
Kevan swung his gun at August, and August jumped back. Kevan charged him and tackled him to the ground.
August struck Kevan in the face and kicked him off. He got up and pointed his gun at Kevan. What the hell was Kevan doing? Why didn’t he shoot him?
August looked at the gun in his hand. He threw it to the ground; he wasn’t about to shoot his brother.
Kevan got up and ran for him. “You bastard.” Kevan swung his fist at him, the hit connected and blood erupted from August’s face.
August fell back onto the tracks. Fuck. Kevan kicked his chest and August dry-heaved.
“You coward,” Kevan said. He dropped on top of him and laid his fist into his face. August heard a distant train whistle closing in. “You’ll never be the man our father was.”
Kevan’s fist stopped. He held August down. Not that he could get up in his state.
Kevan continued, “You ruined everything.”
The Men Who Killed God (Sinner of the Infinite Book 1) Page 8