Through the Fury to the Dawn (Action of Purpose Book 1)

by Stu Jones

  For the first time, true fear climbed up Dagen’s spine and swarmed into his mind as his body froze in panic. After all the years of violent persecution, torture, and murder of God’s people, God had come for him. Dagen tried to move, tried to call out, but the violent mass of hysterical thugs blocked his vision and impeded his movement. Everyone around him was dying.

  Now it was Dagen’s turn to run. He had to get away, as far away as possible. He would run to the ends of the earth to avoid the judgement of God. Dagen broke from the crowd and crossed the courtyard at a sprint, dropping the Sig from his hand as he ran. Past the tankers he ran, straight to the stairs leading up. He took them three at a time to the third story and began running across the length of the catwalk toward Malak’s chamber. He crashed through the door into Malak’s quarters without knocking. “Malak!”

  The large bald man stood undisturbed as he pulled the wide-eyed blonde from the floor and stood her up.

  “Malak! What are you doing? Leave the girl! We have to go! God has come for us!”

  Malak calmly looked the girl over, inspecting her with a bizarre far away look in his eyes. The girl’s knees quivered as he stared at her.

  “God is dead,” Malak said, his expression a picture of emotionless calm.

  In a giant fireball, one of the tanker trucks exploded with an ear-shattering blast. Dagen instinctively ducked and glanced over his shoulder, squinting, to see the dark giant silhouetted in front of the burning tanker. He turned back to Malak.

  “Fuck you, then! I’m getting out!” he shouted, snatching an H&K G3 automatic assault rifle and two twenty-round magazines from the wall next to him.

  Jogging down the elevated walkway, Dagen stopped and surveyed the courtyard again. Dropping a magazine in one of his cargo pockets, he slapped the other hard into the magazine well of the rifle and slapped the charging handle of the weapon with a downward motion. Flicking the safety off, he braced himself against the railing and pulled the trigger. In a blaze of raw power, the rifle recoiled as Dagen held the trigger and sprayed the crowd with a long burst of fully automatic fire. He dropped the magazine from the weapon, inserted the second, and chambered its first round

  “If God wants me, he can come and get me himself!” he yelled, madness in his face as he took aim at the dark giant.

  Something whistled behind him, and he released the pressure on the trigger. Straightening, he turned, but before he could adjust his feet, a man lunged from the shadows behind him. Kane collided with Dagen, slamming his elbow into his chin, snapping the villain’s head back. Dagen grunted and dropped the rifle as he flipped over the railing. He scrambled for a moment at the railing, believing he could grab it. With a ragged scream, he twisted end over end, plummeting toward his inevitable encounter with the cruel, hard earth.

  The tanker truck billowed and surged as the flaming liquid poured en masse from its fiery shell, pushing the shadows of the night back alongside the dawn as it began to break. The majority of the bandits had either fled or met their doom, and Courtland relaxed just a little, as the immediate threat subsided. Blood poured in rivulets down his arms, dripping off the massive ant blades he held in each hand. He moved past the burning tanker, laboring to catch his breath, and wiped his blood-soaked hands across his trousers. Tynuk and Azolja met him on the far side of the tanker.

  “Is everyone alright?” Courtland asked.

  “We are fine. The Great Spirit has granted us victory,” Tynuk said and looked at the beast, who appeared even more fearsome covered in blood.

  “Yes, He has, but the battle is not finished yet,” Courtland said. “We must find and release any innocents that are here, just as Kane said. You two must scour the compound for any prisoners,” Courtland said, waving his hands over the area.

  “And what will you do?” Tynuk asked.

  “There is something else that I must see to.”

  Tynuk nodded, and the three separated as Courtland began moving toward the main control tower.

  As he moved, a thin form began to materialize through the smoke and darkness. He approached, taking small steps and squinting his eyes to make out what it was. As he neared he saw the young woman who was naked and lashed to a pole, Courtland’s face became full of sorrow. He could see from the look on her dirty face that she had been through hell as he stepped close and pushed over the vulgar sign that stood next to her.

  “Oh, child,” he said as he cut her free with a small knife. “You who suffer in the name of Jesus are most blessed.” Courtland helped her to her feet and pulled the gag from her mouth. “This will not do. Come with me.” He said as he took her to the side and rummaged around before pulling a blanket from the second and still intact tanker truck. Wrapping the blanket around her, he held her shoulders and looked her in the face.

  She slowly returned his gaze, the dirt, grime, and tears like a permanent fixture upon her swollen and battered features. Courtland pulled a small flask of water from his pocket and handed it to her. “Praise Jesus for you, young one,” Courtland said as his eyes filled with tears. “May your endurance be an example to us all.”

  Jenna drank the cool water from the flask and wiped her mouth with her wrist. “Thank you for your kindness, sir,” she said.

  “Courtland.”

  “Thank you, Courtland,” she said as she continued to take small spis of water. After a few moments, Jenna looked up at Courtland, her eyes nearly swollen shut from the beatings. “May I keep this water?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with a sad smile.

  “And may I borrow your knife?” she asked as she motioned to the lock blade.

  “Dear, you don’t need to fight. We will take care of you.”

  “Please, I must have it,” she insisted.

  Courtland’s gaze questioned her intentions as he handed the small knife to her.

  “God bless you, Courtland,” she said as she turned and began to walk away.

  “We will be here for you when you are ready, child,” Courtland whispered as she disappeared into the smoke.

  Taking small steps, Jenna walked through the smoke and debris across the courtyard. As she walked, she hummed a little tune like the ones she used to hum for her sweet baby girl. The men that attacked and wounded her lay all around, some dead, others dying. She stepped past them toward the main radio control station building.

  As she neared the building, cries of anguish greeted her ears, and her eyes came to rest upon the twisted form of Dagen, lying broken on the ground. He gnashed his teeth and rocked his body, clutching at his ruined legs where the shattered bones pushed upward through the skin. He looked up to see her approaching with an unfolded lock blade knife in her hand.

  “Get away from me!” he yelled in a high-pitched tone as he ground his teeth. “Get back! Don’t come any closer, you crazy bitch!”

  Jenna continued forward, clinching the knife in her white knuckled fist, her face unreadable.

  “I know why you’ve come! I know! You will have your vengeance in the name of God!” Dagen stiffened. “Do it, then! Give me what I deserve!”

  Jenna knelt next to Dagen and started cutting up the leg of his pants from the ankle. She worked slowly and with great care, avoiding the protruding bone as she cut up toward his thigh.

  “Get away from me! What are you doing?” Dagen faltered, his voice quivering.

  Jenna didn’t answer as she cut three-inch-wide strips from the large blanket that shielded her nakedness. She held up the flask and unscrewed the top, moving to pour it over his wounded legs.

  Dagen grabbed her wrist, restraining her from pouring. “Stop it! Why are you helping me?” He demanded, his body shaking.

  Jenna looked him in the face. “I forgive you, Dagen,” she said as tears ran from the corners of her swollen eyes and off her chin.

  “You can’t! You should hate me!” he clamored.

  “I don’t.”

  “After everything I’ve done to you! After I… I…” He said, his voice cracking.

/>   More tears ran from Jenna’s eyes as she rinsed the trauma points and wrapped his legs, pulling the cut strips of cloth tight.

  “Why? Why would you do this?”

  Jenna looked up into his face again. “Because Jesus first did it for me, and the things I’ve done are no better in His sight.”

  Dagen seized up and rolled back on the turf, pushing his hands to his face. Violent tremors shook his body as he helplessly pinned his arms to his chest and moaned. “I’m broken. I’m…ruined,” he wept as he writhed on the ground.

  Jenna shuffled closer and pulled Dagen up and into her. He continued to moan a broken sound as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Jesus died for you, Dagen, and He would still have died if it were for you alone,” she said as the tears poured down her face. “He wanted me to tell you that.”

  DAY 40

  Kane stepped into the dimly lit room from the darkness of the catwalk. A huge muscular bald man stood in the center of the room, staring with death in his eyes. With Molly in front of him, the warlord stood with his left arm around her, his hand on her throat, and his right arm concealed behind her. She took in a sharp breath at the sight of Kane. The small incandescent bulb in the center of the room flickered.

  “You must be Malak,” Kane said.

  “I have many names. Why have you come here, warrior?”

  “For my friend.”

  “Liar. You come to destroy what I have earned. What I have created.”

  “Just let her go, Malak. We’re all tired. The world is dead. It’s over,” Kane said, watching Malak with cold determination in his eyes.

  Malak laughed a throaty and menacing sound. “So, God’s warrior comes to make demands. But, O’ holy warrior, are you prepared to sacrifice?”

  “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

  “Yes? How important is God’s mission to you? Are you willing to sacrifice your friend?” Malak turned to show that he was sticking a large knife point to Molly’s back.

  Kane worked his jaw back and forth and thought of the sawed-off shotgun tucked in the back of his waistband. He had one shot.

  “So, hero, what’s it going to be?” Malak demanded.

  “It’s not going to be anything. Let her go.”

  Malak shook his head. “No, you still don’t understand. There is always sacrifice. You should have learned this from your savior. Sacrifices must be made. So…the friend or the mission?”

  Kane balled his fists and shifted his weight. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work. God has sent me here to destroy you. You’re finished regardless.”

  “I knew he would choose this,” Malak said, turning Molly’s face toward him. “You see? You don’t matter to him.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Molly. It’s going to be alright.”

  Malak shook his head with mock sadness. “No, it’s not,” he said, as he thrust the knife into Molly’s back. Molly’s eyes grew wide and she groaned as the tip of the blade protruded from her chest.

  “Now, I bleed you both!” Malak hissed as he looked up from the girl, but Kane was already moving.

  In three steps, Kane crossed the room and launched himself into the bald man, landing a devastating knee strike to Malak’s midsection, knocking him and the knife from Molly. The two men crashed across the top of the wooden desk and onto the floor as the shotgun skittered into the corner of the room. Molly’s knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, the blood gushing from her chest and back.

  Malak and Kane slid to a stop on the floor, wrestling with each other before Malak centered himself over Kane, pinning him to the ground. Kane struggled under the weight of a man more than twice as heavy as him.

  Kane bared his teeth, spitting, “I’ll kill you!”

  “That’s right!” Malak cursed. “She’s dying, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Hate God for taking her from you!”

  Kane shouted, delivering blow after blow to Malak’s ribs, the bones cracking under the force.

  Malak remained unfazed. “Hate your precious God!” Malak closed his fingers around Kane’s neck, squeezing.

  Molly rocked across the floor, crying out, pressing her back as hard as she could to the floor, hoping to stop the bleeding.

  Kane gasped, his head swimming in a black mist that swallowed him from the inside. Sputtering, Kane swung his forearm wide, striking the outside of Malak’s elbow. On the third blow, Malak’s arm hyperextended with a crack.

  “Die, worm! You are no champion of God!” Malak grunted, entranced in madness.

  Kane slammed his fist into the big man’s square jaw and then upward under his chin, causing the jawbone to splinter. He gasped for air, the blackness consuming him, changing him, turning him from the light, as Malak slammed Kane’s head against the floor again and again with unbridled savagery.

  “Not by my power!” Kane sputtered.

  “Shut up and die!” Malak’s words rang in his ears.

  “But by the power of the one true God!” Kane felt himself falling away as the darkness enveloped him.

  With a thunderous sound, Courtland erupted through the concrete block wall behind them as though it was made of wet cardboard. The giant had a fire in his eyes and a luminous aura about him as he strode forward and collided with the demonic man, pulling him from Kane and hurling him into the opposite wall.

  As the thin haze of dust began to clear, Malak raised himself up off the floor with his good arm and stood to face the righteous and imposing Courtland. As Malak stood, he seemed to swell and grow, his muscles bulging and twisting as his skin began to split.

  Something inside was trying to get out.

  “Soo, there is more than one champion. Maybe this one will give us a challenge,” Malak said as his voice changed with a strange twittering sound.

  His body continued to contort, his lower jaw elongating and cleaving in half, his forehead bulging, his human form changing into something far more grotesque. As his torso mutated, black, oily tentacles emerged from his back, twisting and coiling as they pulled from his flesh. Talons sprouted from his fingers and fangs from his jaws as he began to laugh gleefully.

  “In the name of Jesus, I command you to release this man!” Courtland shouted, concern vivid in his face.

  “Jeeesus has no power here, and we will not release what is ours.” the unearthly voice growled in inhuman tones.

  “Release him!” Courtland commanded.

  The demon lashed out with its tentacles, striking at Courtland as the two titans collided once again. Back and forth they slammed from one wall to the other, each trying to get the upper hand on the other.

  Kane rolled on the floor as his vision returned and he came to his senses. Molly was not moving. Kane pushed himself to his knees, coughing and trying to steady himself. Courtland and the demon possessed man continued to fight it out with devastating blows on the other side of the room.

  Courtland pinned the disgusting creature up the wall with his arm against its throat as its tentacles swarmed and lashed all about him. The giant, belting scripture at the top of his lungs as the demon dug its foul claws into his chest. “God remains the strength of my heart. He is mine forever, but those who desert him will perish!”

  The vile creature bucked and thrashed and sounded out with an awful, ear-piercing shriek that made the hair stand up on Kane’s neck and arms.

  “Arise, O God, and defend your cause!” Courtland yelled. “Unleash your powerful fist and deliver a deathblow!”

  The demon screamed that terrible sound again, its eyes and tongues bulging and twisting as it shoved Courtland back to the center of the room, where its tentacles struck at his legs. Courtland cried out and dropped to his knees.

  “Kneel before the real god!” the monstrosity gurgled as it loomed over him, its filthy tentacles wrapping and coiling around his neck. Courtland bellowed and raised his arms as the creature lashed out with its fangs, sinking them into the top of his shoulders and back.

  Still gasping
for breath, lungs laboring and knees shaking, Kane stood and seized a three-and-a-half-foot length of lead pipe from the floor as he moved to the brawl. Stepping into the hardest home run swing he could muster, Kane swung at the demon, slamming the pipe into the base of its skull to the sound of distorting bone and tissue. The monster faltered, groaning as a pressurized jet of blood peppered the ceiling and a nearby wall.

  In a burst of raging energy, the demon slammed the unsteady Courtland off his feet and into the far wall, where he slumped to the floor. Spinning back, it lunged at Kane, striking him and sending him flying across the room into the cinder block wall.

  Spitting, Kane raised himself up on his hands and knees, trying to regain his breath. There was nothing he could do as the vile creature shuffled in toward him, laughing.

  “May God forgive your betrayal,” Kane said in breathless defiance from all fours.

  “God only loves himself!” the demon screamed, slashing down at him as Kane ducked into a forward roll into the corner of the room where he grabbed the sawed-off shotgun. He pivoted quickly on his knee and pressed his back into the wall as the shotgun roared, recoiling in his hand. With a bloody shriek, the demon clutched at its ruined face and raised a taloned claw to finish him. Kane had nowhere left to retreat as he waited for the death blow.

  Glowing with blinding power and righteous anger, Courtland crashed into the monster with the deafening boom of a thunder clap. Crashing through the far wall, oily black tentacles tied them together in an awful embrace as the two warring titans fell in a screaming shower of debris into the courtyard below.

  “Courtland!” Kane gasped his hands up in a feeble attempt to shield himself as he knelt in the corner. An eternity passed. Nothing moved in the silence that followed as Kane continued to hold his hands up, heart still racing in the dimness of the early morning.