The following day, blood from the oceans crept into the rivers and lakes, and slowly made its way across each land mass on Earth.
Having no natural source of water, animals died by the billions. Humans could only drink bottled beverages. In areas where no bottled water was available, people died by the hundreds of millions from dehydration.
The nations of the world were in full panic mode as they each declared a state of emergency. Water, gas, and electric utilities shut down across ninety percent of the world. Public transportation was indefinitely suspended. The National Guard and militarized police prowled the streets of each city, trying to maintain order. The dead and dying lay in the streets, their corpses picked over by crows and wild animals in plain daylight.
Beside a small church in Littleton, Colorado, was a huge mountain of bloody skulls reaching forty feet high. Sitting at the top of the mountain, lounging in a chair made of human bones, sat the Antichrist, laughing.
The Fallen One took out his cell phone and dialed 666. After three rings, a voice that sounded like a swarm of flies said, “Hello?”
“What-up, B!” exclaimed the Antichrist.
Beelzebub replied. “Ah, I can only surmise by the excitation of your greeting, that it is time.”
“Indeed it is. I need you to secure North America for me. I'm going to Israel to face God's chosen one, Michael. This is it, brother. We've been waiting thousands of years for this day.”
“Excellent,” Beelzebub replied. “I have something special in mind for our friends in the United States.”
Chapter 7 – Front Row Seat to the Apocalypse
It was the archangel Michael who first broke through the clouds, contrails flowing from his glorious wingspan. Then, one by one, all the angels of Heaven - great legions of winged soldiers followed Michael and descended to earth. One million strong, the angels landed in Israel to confront the forces of destruction. Each divine soldier wore shimmering armor and wielded a fiery sword.
Michael turned to the heavenly host and commanded, “The hour of reckoning is upon us. Satan has infested God's Eden with treachery and sin. We shall deliver this world from evil. Glory of God be with you.” As he spoke, the ground trembled, for his voice spoke with the conviction of truth, and radiated pure power. Michael raised his sword, and swept it in a long arc before him.
“All you see before you is God's kingdom now.” His eyes were glowing with the fierce vindictiveness of God's wrath.
The clouds overhead turned to a dark red hue. The wind stopped, and for a moment, an ominous silence mocked the legions of angels. Then, from each horizon, curses and demonic laughter rang through the air. From the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, a single figure wearing a gray business suit purposefully walked toward Michael, smiling and with arms outstretched.
“Brother! Have you finally decided to join me? Have you finally decided to break free of God's tyranny and fight beside me?” the Antichrist mocked.
The angels stood firm, grimly standing in formation and awaiting orders. Michael turned to his army and spoke, “The hour is upon us. The Devil has taken this world for his own. Man has failed. Man let his pride, lust, and greed destroy the earth that God has given them. It is left to us, God's army, to take back what is rightfully His.”
Michael then command the archangel Raphael to take the one million angels and fly to North America, while he battled the Antichrist in Israel.
* * * * * * *
Raphael, commander of God's angelic forces, descended upon North America, where he detected a strong demonic presence in Washington D.C. The army of angels flew under dark skies to the country's Capitol Building, where they saw the demonic figure of Beelzebub.
The archangel confronted the Lord of Flies. Lifting his sword and pointing it at Beelzebub, Raphael shouted, “Foul demon, release your grip on this land. I command you to go back to Hell!”
The Lord of Flies laughed, as phlegm and spit showered before him with each chortle. The demon was enormously fat, with maggots and larva squirming under its skin. Open sores bled rancid puss, and a smell worse than death hung in the air. The demon spoke with cracked and bleeding lips. “Son of light, hand of God, this land was lost to evil a long time ago. There is nothing more you can do here. Leave us.”
The sword in Raphael's right hand, composed of righteous flame, arced through the air, and sliced the demon in two. Beelzebub looked amused, as millions of flies flew out of each half of his body and attacked the archangel. “In the name of God, return to Hell!” Raphael repeated, as he tried to escape the onslaught of demonic flies.
The flies answered as one voice. “God is not here, little angel. He left this forsaken land to us long ago. There is nothing left for you to save. This land belongs to us now.”
Raphael would not be swayed. “This is the land of God, and is under my protection, dem-” the archangel's words were cut short as an F-18 military jet shot him in the back with a Sidewinder missile. Hundreds of military aircraft screamed through the air, shooting at angels with brimstone bullets. Scores of angels fell from the sky, screaming.
The number of military aircraft was relatively small in comparison to the host of Raphael's angelic forces. However, the angels simply couldn't match the speed and maneuverability of the fighter aircraft. Angels were falling from the skies by the thousands.
“As we have mentioned,” said the demonic flies, “We now control this land. The entire might of the U.S. Armed forces are ours to command. We are legion.”
Raphael looked on in horror as he watched thousands of angels that were being ripped apart by bullets and missiles. The situation was absolutely unfathomable. The Lord of Flies had possessed the entire United States military. Every military serviceman from missile silo operators, fighter pilots, infantrymen, tank squadrons, and special forces were demonically possessed. But for the angels, the worst of it came from the anti-aircraft guns.
Great streams of incandescent tracer fire lit up the skies, as thousands of angels were cut down from anti-aircraft guns. Surface to air missiles and flack cannons pounded the heavenly warriors to crimson dust. The unlucky angels who did not die outright, but fell to earth due to severed wings were soon met on the ground by demonically possessed Army Rangers. The Rangers set up interlocking fields of fire, and decimated all the remaining angels in bloody killing fields.
Raphael cried in anguish. For some reason, he could not exorcise the demons from their human hosts. The demon's hold over this land was too great. And he couldn't bring himself to kill the servicemen, as they were not in control of their actions. Raphael could only watch as hundreds of thousands of his angels fell from the sky. The skies literally rained with blood.
“And we shall reign with pestilence and murder,” mocked Beelzebub. The flies merged into one, and once again the arch-demon was whole again. He sneaked up on Raphael, who was doubled over in pain from being shot in the back, grabbed the archangel's wings, and ripped them from his body. Rapheal screamed in horror as he fell from the sky.
Beelzebub took the archangel's wings and stuck them on his back. The pestilence from his rotted flesh caused all the feathers to fall from the wings. The feathers slowly cascaded to the ground, as the demon's wings now appeared to be that of a giant fly – large, translucent, hateful things. He laughed and danced in the air on his new wings.
Raphael fell to the ground with a loud, sickening thump. He lay dying as he looked to the sky and whispered, “God, why have you forsaken me?”
At that moment, a demonically possessed Army Ranger walked up to the archangel. The Ranger's face was silhouetted by blood-red skies. Without hesitation, he pulled the switch on his M-16 to burst, and shot the archangel in the face. The Ranger's eyes showed no emotion, as he continued on his patrol, killing angels as they fell from the sky.
It didn't take long to clear the remaining angels from the area. The battle for North America was lost. The Lord of Flies began singing a haunting dirge in mockery of the once great nation. His mouth
sputtered puss and vomit with each line. “This land is your land, This land is my land. From California, to the New York island. From the red wood forest, to the Gulf Stream waters. This land was made for you and Me."
* * * * * * *
The Antichrist quietly spoke, “All is lost, brother. Join me, and you will live.”
Michael stood his ground, and leveled his gaze on the father of lies. “Why did you leave Heaven? Everyone loved you. We could have spent an eternity praising God and basking in His glory. If not for your actions, not a single human on Earth would have known hatred or sorrow. Now look at this world, a twisted mockery of the paradise that God created. Why?”
His pale face cracked into a smile. Head canted to the side, the Antichrist lifted his arms and danced in mockery of the archangel's questions. “I am the greatest of His creations, equal to God himself. Why did He create me? Why did He create anything?” The Fallen One stopped dancing, and gazed into Michael's eyes. “He did it because He could. Because He was bored and lonely. Because He wanted to challenge Himself. God created this world like a child creates sandcastles, who relishes in its destruction as the tide comes in and destroys it. Each person on this planet holds the same power of creation and destruction. Each person struggles with those choices every day. God did not even give the angels the capacity to judge between right and wrong, and that is why I left Heaven. Because there was no choice, only constant singing and merriment. I despised it all. What is life without choice? Slavery, that's what it is. And that is why you must die.”
At that moment, the Antichrist changed. Red scales began to appear on his face. Leathery wings sprouted from his back. He began to grow to enormous size, changing from a man into a gargantuan red dragon. “What is life?” asked the Beast. “Is it not the power to choose your own destiny? Am I not the beacon of free will? All who praise God must die. The angels and Christians are simple minded fools, who willingly submit to oppression and slavery. It ends now!”
And with that, the great Beast roared, and a gout of brimstone flame shot from his mouth and incinerated all before it. The sand on the beach burnt to glass, and the Mediterranean Sea boiled and hissed. The Archangel tried to shield himself, but to no avail. His wings burnt, his skin blackened and charred, Michael barely clung to life. He slumped to the ground, smoke rising from his blistered skin.
The Beast spoke, “Didn't the prophecies say that you would defeat me? Revelations 12:7 I believe: 'Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. And the dragon lost the battle.'" The Beast reared up his great horned head and laughed, "Yet another prophecy failed, it seems."
The beast stood triumphant. He paused to savor the moment of his victory, then the dragon changed back into his human form - a business man in a gray pinstriped suit. From his left hand appeared a violin, and in his right hand appeared a bow. The Antichrist put the violin up to his chin and played maniacally, and laughed as he watched the world burn before him. He threw his head back and danced like only the devil could. And when he was done, he discarded the violin, tossing it to the blackened earth like a discarded toy.
He walked over to the barely conscious archangel and put his right hand around Michael's throat, and lifted the angel off his feet. The Antichrist's left hand began to change - each finger becoming a hypodermic needle filled with green liquid. A smirk creased his lips as the Antichrist violently thrust the needles into Michael's face.
The archangel screamed so loudly that the mountains shook. Green fluid filled Michael's eyes and streamed out of his nose and mouth as his body went limp. With the last of his strength, the archangel uttered his final words. “You are wrong, fallen star. Man chooses to fight his evil nature because of love. That is what you are rebelling against. Like a petulant child, you pulled away from God's greatest gift. How can you understand faith and hope, when you can't even understand love.” With those final words, Michael's head slumped forward, as the last of God's light left his body.
The Antichrist smiled a Cheshire grin, holding the now dead body of Michael close to him. He extended one of Michael's hands with his own, and danced in a circle with his dead body as a mockery to God. He then tossed the corpse of the archangel to the ground, like another discarded toy. He then turned and raised his arms to the heavens. “Am I not forsaken from Heaven? Am I not greater than God? Am I not Lord of this world?” he screamed, tears of joy streaming from his amber cat-eyes.
Rolling thunder roared from darkened clouds. Lightning arced from the black skies to the mountaintops. The sound of demonic laughter from all corners of the world rang into the night. It was the darkest hour that man had ever known.
At that moment, the clouds parted as a single figure descended on a beam of golden light. For the first time in two thousand years, God returned to Earth.
Chapter 8 – The Final Confrontation
“You look older than the last time I saw you,” the Antichrist commented dryly.
God did indeed look like an old man. Lines creased his face, as if from thousands of years of sorrow. But despite his weathered countenance, his eyes glowed with love and compassion, and his body was muscled and strong. And when he spoke, it was with the authority of God. “You were the greatest of my creations, and my greatest failure. I have only myself to blame for the sorrow and destruction that you have caused. And for that, I am the one who begs forgiveness from mankind. I was a fool to think that I could create something as great as myself, and have that creation love me unconditionally. But now it is time to end this.” God paused, then sternly pointed his finger at the Antichrist. “I challenge you, Father of Lies.”
“You challenge me?” mocked the Antichrist. “Why not just blink me out of existence?” The Devil paused, for dramatic effect. “Hmm, you can't, can you? No, you always play by the rules, and that is why you will ultimately fail. How can good possibly triumph over evil? This isn't Heaven, old man. On Earth, you're playing against a stacked deck.” He walked up to God and pointed a finger in his face. “You know the rules. The one who is challenged gets to set the rules for the final confrontation. I propose this – three duels. A game of chess, a boxing match, and a dance-off. Best two out of three wins.”
“This isn't a game,” God replied. “This is for the fate of mankind.”
“Oh, indeed it is a game. Life was nothing but a game from the very start. A game that an old man created out of boredom and loneliness. But the rules remain the same, regardless.”
God shook his head slowly. “I knew you would make this difficult. You have turned the final confrontation of Revelations into a mockery. I should have known. But if that's the way it has to be, then so be it.”
The Devil laughed. With a gesture, a table with two chairs appeared. On the table was a chessboard. “I presume, you'll take white?” he mocked.
“I'll take black,” said God.
“Ha! You think you'll throw me off my game? Not a chance, old man. Pick whichever side you wish.”
The two deities sat at the table. God was sternly looking at the chess pieces while the Antichrist slouched in his chair and whistled a playful tune. He casually moved his white pawn to e4 then hit the time clock. “Your turn, old man.”
God looked intently at the white pawn, then moved his black pawn to c5. “You're move.”
“You know what got me thinking? This whole trinity thing. You're a singular entity that's separated into three parts - Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. It's just confusing, isn't it? Wouldn't it be easier to understand, if you just called yourself God, and left it at that? Instead, you seem like some kind of omnipotent schizophrenic.” He casually moved a white pawn to c3.
It was clear that the devil's commentary was troubling God. “Just concentrate on the game, son.” Black pawn to d5.
Disregarding God's advice, the Devil continued. “I mean, I suffer from the same problem. I'm also a singular entity that's separated into three parts – Satan, the Antichrist, and
the False Prophet. I've also been known as Lucifer, the father of lies, and the Beast, among other things.” The Devil leaned back in his chair. “You know, this whole Rapture/Tribulation thing is rather confusing, isn't it? Seven trumpets this, golden censer that. How is anybody supposed to make sense of it?” Pawn takes pawn at ed5.
“What's so difficult? You've got the Rapture. That's were one old man goes to Heaven.” God shot the Devil a scathing glance. “Then you've got the Tribulation. Seven angels blow their trumpets. Various catastrophes occur. Then you've got your three woes. Then you get an additional seven last plagues. Simple.” Black queen takes pawn at d5.
The Devil smirked. “Yeah, real simple. How about this – God comes down to Earth and saves everyone. The end. How about that?” Pawn to d4.
God let out a truly patient sigh, the type of sigh that a parent would give a petulant child. “Whatever,” he said. Black knight to f6.
“I think Revelations is so confusing because you had no idea what you wanted to do, so you made it so cryptic that just about anything could happen.” White knight to f3.
“Just keep your mind on the game.” Black bishop to g4.
Once again ignoring his advice, the Devil rambled on. “But none of it really happened the way it was supposed to happen in Revelations, did it? I mean, some of it did. The plague, the oceans and lakes turning to blood. Sure, but then you-”
“But then you happened.” God interrupted. “And you weren't playing by the rules, were you? Just like always.”
“I came to Earth to save mankind.” White bishop to e2.
“You only came to Earth to save the sinners. The ones who weren't worthy.” God moved his black pawn to e6.
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