Chapter
3 – Unrelenting Fervor
A week passes with me and Mr. Red’s
allies and friends sorting through the prison population to see who can and
will fight with us and who should stay in prison. There are those who we free that
don’t join the fight since they were put in jail for unjust reasons such as
speaking against Old America. Others join as atonement for their crimes or do
so to get back at Old America or to help us finish the fight and create a
better nation. Finally, some just want an easy way out of prison and don’t actually want to fight and are legitimately imprisoned for
crimes such as murder, rape, theft, and so on. These people we leave in prison.
Those who we chose are given training by Mr. Red’s allies.
Speaking of him, he’s shared the
information he’s learned with the rest of the country and it’s spread like
wildfire. Enforcers and civilians from Old America have joined our side, the American
Union has sent us more supplies and troops, and the information itself has caused
havoc in this state. We are now more than ready for the upcoming fight. Mr. Red’s
allies have graciously put bulletproof plating on my hearse allowing me to
be the spearhead of the next attack that I want to be. People have even been
calling my hearse the Holy Martyr because of it, which I don’t mind the name
of. I don’t expect to live to see the end of this. Many will fight and die and
if I can save some of them by blocking bullets with my own body, then I will.
Another week passes until Mr. Red
and his backup finally arrive and presents his plan. Apparently, he already
has forces attacking the towns around the capital to disable the communication
stations and didn’t tell us knowing that I would drive ahead to help them. He’s
right, but I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Anyways, the plan is
simple. We’ll be split into different groups to take different ways to get to
the capital with some groups heading straight there and others destroying the
communication stations that stand between us and the capital so that Old
America can’t activate their army of androids beyond the capital and the groups
that are heading to the capital are given cover to get there. The second part
of the plan is to blow up or disable the final station in the capital to bring
an end to this civil war. Of course, I’m part of one of the groups going after
the communication stations. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Any questions?” Mr. Red asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Are you done
talking? Because I want to end this war once and for all.”
The others in the room agree and
cheer with me while Mr. Red smiles and shakes his head.
“Yes, I’m done. Let’s take back our
country for God, for our families, and for our future generations!” Mr. Red
says to a room full of excited patriots.
We head out to our separate targets
with people on the streets cheering us on. Once we have our first target in
sight, we try to take down the communication station from a distance by firing
a rocket at the antenna on top of the building, but the rocket is intercepted
by shots coming from android snipers on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings
of the town. This town we’re heading towards is a pseudo-military outpost that was
once said to be a popular town before its inhabitants were kicked out due to
the military’s lack of military bases and their need for them. As the spear of
this charge, I and the trucks armed with turrets that are controlled by a passenger,
take the brunt of the incoming fire. I drive through the defenses until I come
to the communication station, step out with two assault rifles in each hand,
and start firing at the enforcers and androids around me. Thanks to my cybernetics,
I’m able to fire at more than one target without sacrificing accuracy so that
each of my rifles is firing at different targets.
I leave myself vulnerable in the
open so that all fire is concentrated on me while the others get out of their armored
cars and trucks to join in the fight. We go up to the doors of the
communication station, blow it up, and make our way through it. Again as the
spear, I take a majority of the fire while firing back as my rifles tear
through flesh, machine, and the walls around me as I empty drum magazine after
magazine and wreck everything around me as if I were death itself. My nickname
of Fr. Death really begins to sound more fitting than my actual one after I go walk
back through what we’ve done once the communication station is shut down. The
scope of how much death I’m dealing plus the damage done to me because of how much
I choose to take doesn’t occur to me until we shut down a third communication
station ten hours later. It’s as if I was possessed by righteous fury or an
angel of death.
Mr. Red, who is in command of my group
and in communication with the other group leaders, chooses to rest for a few
hours to repair the damages done to the vehicles and feed and give rest to
those who are still fighting. The unfortunate few casualties we’ve taken
irritate me, to say the least, and the fact of the casualties happening pushes me
to move forward as if the blood of the innocent, brave, and my deceased loved
ones cry out for the deaths of the corrupt. As for the injured, some of them
have been taken back to safe areas that are under our control. Some of the
injured have taken stimulants and been patched up and still want to continue
fighting despite their condition. There are only a few of these soldiers that
are allowed to continue, however, the rest are sternly ordered to go back home and
are told that they’ll die if they don’t or risk the lives of their friends by
their subdued fighting ability.
“They’re inspired by you or at
least are acting like you,” Mr. Red says to me as I repair my cybernetics.
“That’s true and I commend them for
it. They should get more rest than I since they don’t have the same body as I do,”
I say.
“You’re still human though. You may
seem invincible, but that body of yours has its limits.”
“I know. I’ll try not to overdo it.”
“Ha! From what I’ve seen and heard,
you already have twice over. All I ask is that you wait for us before you head
out, okay?”
“Okay.”
So far, we’ve made a lot of progress
today with our groups making it deep into the state. It’s only a matter of time
before it falls. Thanks to the forces that have disabled the communication
stations, a way has been cleared for our secondary forces to make it to the
capital. The capital itself is heavily defended with hundreds of androids and
enforcers attempting to keep the peace and quell the riots. Our friends are
keeping their heads down while also causing trouble here and there and arming
the masses. Since there seems no reason to worry, I try to sleep as best I can.
The past comes back in my dreams. Memories
of teaching children and adults the theology of the Catholic faith and the truth
it contains come rushing back along with the fun times of play and relaxation
with those that were family and whom I called family. Then, the inevitable
happens. They get shot, cut, crushed, blown up, or burn to death in front of me
and no matter how hard I try to save them, there’s nothing I can do. Waking up
from my nightmare, I get on my knees and pray for God’s help and advice. What
should I do to prevent that from happening again? Is this a sign that I should
head out ahead of everyone? Why did I survive when I was the primary target?
These questions I constantly ask God and don’t feel like I’m coming close to an
answer at all.
At the moment, I feel like I should
leave, but I resist the feeling since it’s more of a temptation to martyr
myself while killing as many of my enemies out of hatred rather than justice.
Early in the morning when everyone is getting ready, I’m already locked and loaded.
I’ve eaten already, said my morning prayers, and helping the others get on
their feet and ready to go. We meet up with the rest of our forces just in time
to protect the protestors and revolutionaries who are being shot at by enforcers
and androids. With our numbers, we push back our enemies and send them running
to the final communication station.
“They’re a bit too eager to
retreat,” Mr. Red says before talking on a private radio station. He then hears
something that widens his eyes. “We have to fall back! Get back! An airstrike
is coming to flatten these streets!”
“Clear out!” I say and try to help.
Some people do as we say while others want to charge forward and do so.
“Stop being idiots! That airstrike
will be here before we can make it to the station!” Mr. Red says.
“I’ll chase after them. You get everyone
else to safety,” I say.
Before Mr. Red can argue with me,
we hear and see jets fly over us and bomb the capital with explosives and firebombs. Chaos fills the streets as buildings fall around us. There’s no place to
run except forward so I keep running until parts of a building fall on me causing
me to black out for a few seconds. When I escape the rubble, I see nothing but
horror around me as if I’ve gone back to the past. Mr. Red and his friends are
dead along with everyone else who was with us. Those who aren’t dead are either
burning alive soon to be dead or in such states of injury that they will soon
die. Just like before, I’m the only one left who can continue on.
Why have you put me through this
again, God? What have I done to deserve such punishments? What is the purpose
behind my experiencing this? There’s no reason to sit here and do nothing about
it. Justice needs to be served and the blood of the innocent cries out to me to
be satisfied and Fr. Death will deliver.
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