by Len du Randt
The more René scratched and rubbed, the worse the burning and itching became. René couldn’t cover her whole body fast enough. She dug her nails into her arm while she rubbed her back against the wall of a building. People all around her were scratching and rubbing themselves. Children were screaming and some people scratched their tongues until blood flowed from their mouths.
What’s going on? René thought as she continued scratching. It was then that she noticed the tiny sores on the back of her hands. Soon after, the burning and itching became so unbearable that she fell to the ground in a scratching fit as the little sores rapidly spread throughout her entire body.
- - -* * *- - -
‘N-Force Hospital staff are running around frantically as people from all over the world are flooding the local hospitals and community shelters. All those hospitalised are covered in some sort of mutated wart-like disease.’
Trevor wondered if they would make the connection that the ‘disease’ only appeared on those with Shields. He figured that, in time, it would be blamed on Christians terrorizing the poor ‘loyal folk’ of the Empire with some sort of secret weapon designed to work against the Shield.
‘Many have already committed suicide, while others just lie in the street, scratching themselves into a bloody pulp.’
GMN aired footage of people lying on the streets, screaming and moaning as they scratched themselves. Some people’s faces were so badly riddled with the wart-like plague, that Trevor couldn’t see where their noses were supposed to be. His mind wandered to René and he sent up a quick prayer to the Lord, asking Him to alleviate her pain and suffering as much as possible. He still couldn’t get over the thrill of knowing that God existed and being able to speak to Him directly as often as he liked.
‘Sovereign Emperor, Victor Yoshe, has this to say.’
The footage of the scratching people was replaced by that of Victor standing on a platform. He appeared to be unaffected by the sudden outbreak of the plague.
‘Loyal citizens of the Empire,’ he began his address, ‘It appears that the Christian terrorists will go to the fullest extent of plaguing our world with their hatred and rebellion.’
Trevor rolled his eyes.
‘And we, the ones seeking unity and peace, have to suffer for it. Will the terrorists never yield to peace and love? Will they never consider others as equal to them? What have we done to be punished like this? I tell you not to fear, my loyal believers, as I will soon unleash Hell upon these terrorists who think that they own my world. Does this planet not belong to its creator? Should its inhabitants not follow their maker? I urge all to be strong, and to keep the faith as we try to find the source of this outrage. You have my blessings.’
The newsreader—also covered in wart-like sores—returned. ‘Lord Yoshe has sent his Imperial Soldiers to hunt down and slay the Christian terrorist source. They have a strong lead on a Christian base camp somewhere in the plains of Megiddo and will investigate. More on this as it develops—’
Trevor snapped off the television and walked toward the window. He stared out at the cityscape and wondered how long it would be before he would be weeded out and driven from his home. ‘Please guide me and make me strong, Lord,’ he prayed. ‘I also beg of you to supply me with fresh water and food, as my supplies are running dangerously low. Thank you for your light during this dark time. Amen.’
- - -* * *- - -
Ryan sat thinking about the two hundred million soldiers that Victor had shown him two weeks ago. They were deployed last week, and had since killed over four million people.
‘They don’t take prisoners,’ Victor told Ryan. ‘They just go in and get the job done.’
The monstrous soldiers could flood countries like India, Russia, and Burma in a matter of weeks. It would only be months before the entire European continent would belong to Victor. From there, the next step would be to take Africa, and then the two American continents. In just over two years, Victor could rule the entire planet, and no one would be able to stand in his way.
The slaughters didn’t bother Ryan at first. In fact, he quite enjoyed torturing some of the terrorists. But as time progressed, and the killings grew more gruesome in nature, he started feeling uneasy about them. He wondered why they had to use violence to achieve peace, but knew that asking Victor about it would prove to be a fatal mistake. One of the Empire’s top delegates asked the very same question once, and was tortured and fed to the lions.
‘Units five and seven,’ Ryan said as he spoke into a hidden microphone. ‘We are nearing the city. Everyone get to your positions.’
‘Roger that, sir,’ a voice squawked in his earpiece.
Since the attack on Victor at Al Jalil, public appearances received top security. No one would be able to get close enough to Victor for another attack, and those who would make the mistake of trying, would be taken care of in a heartbeat.
Thousands of people had lined the streets, and others leaned out of buildings to see the coming of their God in glory and power.
Glory he had, as he was dressed in clothing worth more than what most people earned in a lifetime of hard work. Victor waved at the cheering crowds through the sunroof of a white limousine.
Power he had too, as in front of the limo, and behind it, thousands upon thousands of Imperial Soldiers marched in perfect unison.
The inhabitants of the city cheered and waved at their Lord, and balloons were released as a marching band played in time with the steps of the Imperial Soldiers.
‘Our Messiah has come in flesh,’ a huge banner read. ‘Rejoice! For our God is amongst us!’ read another. And another even said, ‘All worship our great and wonderful God, Sovereign Emperor Victor Yoshe.’
Ryan scanned the crowd for any suspicious looking zealots. So far, so good.
The marching came to a halt and stopped playing. The limousine stopped too. Victor looked at the thousands of people gathered around him and he smiled warmly at them. Most of them were still without Shields, but he could tell that they were grateful for his military coup and, within a week, all of them would be branded. Any who resisted would be seen as terrorists, and be imprisoned or impaled. The public favourite still appeared to be the lion feeding at the various Coliseums worldwide where the really pathetic looking ones were aired on ‘The World’s Funniest Deaths.’
I own all of this, Victor thought to himself as the people simultaneously bowed down to him. I own these people, these buildings, and even the grass beneath the trees. It is all mine; and soon I will possess even more.
- - -* * *- - -
South Africa: Two Weeks Later
‘This is N-Force,’ a voice through a megaphone jerked Trevor from his sleep. ‘This is a routine inspection. Please cooperate and allow yourself to be scanned. Do not leave your apartments. Anyone caught doing so will be shot. Those without Shields must also remain in their apartments until they can be assisted by an officer.’
Oh Lord, Trevor thought as he jumped out of bed. This cannot be happening!
He looked out of his window just as a searchlight swept by and saw a number of armed N-Force troops jumping from vans. Some people were already being escorted and shoved into the vans. One of them jerked away from the officers and ran toward what he thought was safety. Trevor flinched as three short bursts from a machine gun stopped the man dead in his tracks.
What am I going to do? Trevor’s mind was racing frantically with all sorts of possible options, but he instinctively knew that they were all futile. He would be caught and taken to a concentration camp where they would torture him to the brink of death and then toss him to the lions. They would then cut off what was left of his head and impale it alongside the main road leading to the Coliseum in Soweto. Trevor couldn’t allow that to happen. He dressed quickly. It would only be another minute or so before the N-Force officers would be pounding down his door. Should he try and hide in the apartment? Maybe try to make a run for it?
Don’t run, Trevor, a soft voice spok
e from inside his head. It sounded like his own voice, but somehow he knew that it wasn’t. The voice was calm and spoke softly, yet wielded tremendous authority. Do not be afraid.
Trevor was about to run to the living room when someone pounded on his front door.
‘N-Force,’ a rough voice called from the other side. ‘Open up!’
Trevor froze. Images of the running man getting shot still replayed itself in his mind.
‘Open up or we will break it down!’ the rough voice commanded.
Trevor still couldn’t get himself to move, and not even the loud thump against his door was enough to get his legs to respond. There was another loud THUMP and then a CRACK as the door gave in under the force.
Trevor stood face to face with the silhouette of an armed man as the N-Force soldier scanned a flashlight through the apartment. He didn’t enter. The officer made another sweep and then landed the flashlight right onto Trevor’s face. Trevor didn’t breathe. His heart exploded in his ears and his head felt light and dizzy. They stood there, watching each other for a minute. Trevor closed his eyes and welcomed the inevitable. He was satisfied that he had come this far in the race.
‘Apartment six-zero-two,’ the N-Force officer spoke into his mouthpiece, not taking his flashlight off Trevor’s face. ‘Clear.’
What?
The N-Force officer clicked off his flashlight before thumping down the hallway. A few seconds later, Trevor heard a pounding on his neighbour’s door.
Trevor opened his eyes. He was alone in his flat. Alone and alive.
‘Come with us, sir,’ he heard the same voice bark at his neighbour.
‘No,’ the neighbour protested. ‘You cannot do this! This is inhumane!’
There was some shuffling and Trevor flinched as a gunshot went off. ‘Apartment six-zero-three,’ the voice said. ‘Clear.’
A few moments later Trevor finally managed to move. He went over to the window and looked out at the vans below. The soldiers shut the doors and the vans pulled away from the building. The dead man was left lying in the road. He wasn’t their problem anymore.
Trevor fell to his knees, still unable to grasp the reality of what had just happened. ‘If there was even the slightest doubt in my mind, it has been completely removed,’ he whispered through quivering lips. ‘Thank you, Jesus.’
He realized that he couldn’t spend another night in his apartment, and that N-Force, bounty hunters, or even Imperial Soldiers were sure to raid again. He knew that if they did come back next time, they would find him, and that would be the end.
- - -* * *- - -
‘Father,’ Timothy said as Malcolm entered his tent. ‘I wanted you to see this.’
‘What is it, Tim?’
‘Look.’
Malcolm looked at a small television screen that one of Timothy’s scouts brought back from Jerusalem during a stakeout. At first Malcolm couldn’t figure out what he was looking at. It appeared to be a close-up of tomato soup with chunks of mushroom drifting on the surface. A few seconds later the camera panned across the ‘soup,’ and zoomed out. Malcolm couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘That’s the...’ he said, his words sounding hollow as he spoke. ‘That’s the ocean.’
‘Correct,’ Timothy said, his horrified facial expression matched that of his father. ‘All the oceans have turned into blood.’
‘All of them?’
‘Each and every single one of them,’ Timothy confirmed. ‘Those black spots that you see floating there are whales. Researchers could find no trace of any life forms in any of the oceans.’
‘And the rivers?’
‘All fresh water sources that weren’t affected by the sour poison plague still remain fresh, but we suspect that it might only be a matter of time.’
‘The media’s opinion?’
‘Christian terrorists, of course.’
Malcolm sighed. ‘It appears that everything that goes wrong these days gets blamed on the ‘Christian terrorists.’’
‘Indeed so, father,’ Timothy said. ‘We can only hope that the sealed ones out there are reaching enough people before Victor takes the entire European continent.’
‘Any ideas of what his plans are?’ Malcolm asked.
‘From the information that we have gathered, it appears that he is Hell-bent on taking Egypt.’
‘Why?’
‘We can only speculate at this time, but it appears that the most obvious reason is that if they take Egypt and move their forces to the south while they use South Africa to invade upward, the bidirectional invasion will make the other African countries submit in fear, causing him to gain control of the African continent.’
‘Making him rule over two thirds of the planet.’
‘Exactly! And then he will set his sights on the two American continents.’
‘But how has he managed to topple and overpower some of the world’s strongest countries?’ Malcolm asked.
‘It appears that he has somehow gathered himself an army large enough to overrun the entire planet.’
‘Where did he get all the people?’
‘Not people, Father. Demons.’
‘How many?’
‘Tens of millions,’ Timothy said grimly. ‘Maybe even hundreds of millions.’
‘Is there anything that we can do?’
‘It is a long shot,’ Timothy said. ‘But I think that I might just have a plan.’
Malcolm thought about the demonic army as he looked at the images of the blood-filled seas that flickered on the little television screen. He stroked his beard. Mary was gone. There was nothing more for him to fear or hide from. He wanted to help, as his wife did. He wanted to do the Lord’s work.
‘Dad?’
‘Show me,’ Malcolm said. ‘Show me what must be done.’
- - -* * *- - -
Trevor never imagined that he would one day just leave all his possessions and make a run for it. He took five minutes to pack a few personal items and some fresh clothes into a backpack, and walked from the building as fast as he could, knowing that he would never return to it. He walked past the body of the dead man and noticed that someone had taken his shoes and clothing.
‘Oh, Lord,’ Trevor said. ‘One day that might be me. But you spared me for a reason and allowed this man to die for a reason. Please let me know for what purpose you have spared me.’
He didn’t expect an answer right there on the spot, so he continued toward the city centre, wondering how evil the human race was still going to become.
Who steals clothes off a dead man? Once he reached the city, he ducked into a darkened alleyway and walked over to some dumpsters in search of anything that could represent shelter. He still had some food with him, but had a serious water shortage problem. He didn’t have the Shield, so N-Force would try to capture or kill him before the idea of supplying him with water would even cross their minds. He didn’t particularly fancy the idea of being impaled alive on a large wooden pole outside the city, nor did he wish to be decapitated of crucified. He just wanted everything to come to pass so that he could be with his parents, Norman, Andrew and, most importantly, his newfound saviour, Jesus Christ.
‘Good night, Jesus,’ Trevor said as he pulled some cardboard boxes over him to protect himself from the wind. He used the garbage dumpsters as a buffer against the strong draft that was constantly blowing through the alley.
It wasn’t obvious to the eye, and it was by pure accident that he noticed the loose brick. He had leaned back too suddenly and bumped his head against the wall. A brick had shifted slightly, making a grating sound. Out of curiosity, he removed the brick.
There’s something in there, he thought and he peered into the hole. He removed a few more bricks, until there was a huge gaping hole. Somebody had stashed something in the hole, and had covered it with a blanket. Trevor gently removed the blanket and its contents, and when he unfolded the material, he almost cried. In the blanket were five bottles of water that someone had hidden.
Mayb
e this person will come back for it, Trevor thought as doubt crept into his thoughts. No! How can you ask the Lord for something, and when He provides, think it’s for someone else?
He liked rebuking himself. It helped him stay focussed.
Thank you, Jesus. I pray that you supply the person that hid this with equal gifts and opportunities.
Out of faith, he took a big gulp of water from the one bottle. It wasn’t bitter. In fact, it was the freshest water that he had ever tasted. He gulped down even more, and before long, had finished two of the five bottles. Gotta save the rest for a rainy day, he thought as he slipped the remaining bottles into his backpack. And now I have a blanket too.
Trevor covered himself with the blanket. Things were going pretty fine still, but he knew that it would get much worse, very soon.
- - -* * *- - -
‘What?’ Malcolm asked. ‘You want to what?’
‘You heard right, father,’ Timothy said.
‘You want to destroy a section of Al Jalil?’
‘No, father,’ Timothy said patiently. ‘We want to destroy all of it.’
‘All of it?’
Timothy nodded.
‘But that’s impossible, Tim,’ Malcolm said. ‘We do not have the ways and means.’
‘Oh but we do,’ Timothy said. ‘We have G.O.D on our side.’
‘It’s going to take a bit more than faith to destroy Al Jalil, Tim,’ Malcolm said sceptically. ‘No offence, of course.’
‘None taken,’ Timothy replied and smiled. ‘But I didn’t just mean God as in our Lord, but G.O.D: Genocide Omega Device.’
‘And that is...?’
‘It’s a thermonuclear fusion bomb that has enough explosive yield to dwarf the atomic bomb that the Americans used to nuke Hiroshima.’