The Inevitability of the Return – Part 1

“Fightin’ for Fightin’s Sake”

The man walked along the dusty road with his hand on a holster and his mind on God. The road led to where he was supposed to meet the “council” to discuss what “councilors” talk about; real important stuff.

Turning off the road onto a canopied driveway, the man felt in the back of his mind he was being watched. Granted he always felt like he was being watched, especially with them damned satellites constantly following his implanted “microchip”. All the past soldiers had them or so he believed. His problem was even the x-rays could not spot his to take out. He was sure it was there somewhere.

After the “War on Terror” ended, the bases shut down across the world and the troops all came home. All of them. He had been a sniper for the Marine Corp doing one tour in Iraq and one tour in the Ukraine. Now he worked as a volunteer firefighter in the small town of Bingston, Arkansas.

The meeting point was an old barn turned machine shop for car reconstruction and the occasional bomb-build. Whatever one needed for either job could be found there. He crossed over the Stone Creek bridge and in front of him the octagon-shaped rusty barn laid in semi ruin. He approached slowly, going from tree to tree, checking to make sure no funny business was brewing otherwise he would have to pop out the trusty .44 Mag.

He could have gone in through the front, but decided against it and crawled under the bull fence to go around to the side entrance. He stepped into the barn through a door built as a horse entrance. The rest of the group must have been waiting for him for some time. He snuck in slowly without anyone being aware. A giant of a man was sitting on top of a stack of square hay-bails looking out a window near the front entrance.

“Hey!”, shouted the sneaking man with a surprise.

Nearly losing his balance and falling off the hay-bails, the giant man was obviously shooken up. “Why you… “, he thought better about what he was going to say. “Where the hell you been Earl? You’re late…”

“You know I gotta be careful leaving town Samson. You forget who I work for?”, responded Earl.

“Nah, I didn’t forget… but maybe you are just being too paranoid again.”

“Paranoid? How can you call me paranoid when you are the one tryin’ to use some got-damn dove to deliver Timmy messages cause you think they still tracking our cellphones?”, said Earl.

“It’s a good idea if you ask me. They are still tracking our cellphones, no matter what they say. That ole libertarian wannabe president may seem like a good ole boy, but you know who is backin’ him.” He paused and stared at Earl with his eyebrows raised. Whisperingly cupping his hands around his mouth, Samson said, “The big one.”

“I know who is backing him. And because of that, we are losing strength everyday. Joshua quit last week and Mary-Anne the week before. Now there is just you, me, and the Timster. Where is that joker anyways?”

A squeaky-looking man in his early 20s slid out from under the 1950 pink Thunderbird covered under years of dust.

“I think I can get her fixed up again. Could maybe get three or four-thousand credits out of her easy-peazy.”

This was Timmy, a wild-eyed red-headed greasehead with a slight lisp.

“I’m gonna buy me one of them new hoverboards. Been wanting one real bad ever since I saw Tony Hawk ride across the English Channel. You see that vid? 1080s over waves man!”

Earl walked towards the tool table while shaking his head. “Yeah I saw it, but we need the money for more important things….”

“Like what?”

“Like bullets. That’s what. You know how damn hard it is to find .308 shells for my Winny these days? Some hoverboard bullshit don’t matter at this moment. What matters is stemmin’ the tide.”

Samson jumped down from the hay-bails and landed a few feet from Earl. “Stemmin’ the tide of what?”

“Of people going to the other side of course.” He paused and picked up a scope on the table. Looking through the lens he could pinpoint a squirrel eating some nuts on the post outside. “Every since he performed all those honkey-dorey miracles on 5th avenue, we can’t keep even our grandma from converting to their new religion. What do they call him now?”

“Some are callin him the Savior, some call him Matri-somethun, some the 2nd comin’…”, Timmy responded.

“And yet he calls himself just a man…” Samson broke in.

“Just a man? Yeah right just a man. What is their group going by now-a-days? The Forgiveness movement or Unification of Religions… seems to change everyday”, said Earl.

“I watched one of his speeches the other day and…”, Timmy responded but was immediately shouted at by Earl stepping quickly his way.

“You what? I told you no watching ANY of his speeches. He has a way of converting through pure psy-onic waves through the computer and television. I seen it myself. My sister went from a hater to a bonafide A.C. lovin’ piece of white trash in 24 hours… I seen it myself. I told her to find a new trailer park to live in.”

Earl walked through the middle of the barn with his head down trying to muster up the charisma for a speech to bolster his troops.

“It is up to us now to stop him and this movement. There is no one left. Literally everyone in the world has given their allegiance to him and his followers. The Islamists, the Jews, those meditatin’ Buddha-lovers, the damn Hindus, and even the freaking Pope and his mass of followers. We true Christians know who he is… he ain’t Jesus or the 2nd coming that’s for damned sure! If he was, I would know, best darn believe.”

The group was trying to get pumped up, but Earl’s speeches were slightly hollow as of late with the loss of support from his sister Mary-Anne. A topic he didn’t want to further discuss.

“Well, the world sure has changed since he came. Not necessarily in such a bad way…”, Timmy hesitantly pointed out. “The people… they seem to love him.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who they love… he is the Devil in disguise. You know what it says in the good book, he will be a charismatic figure who rises quickly and takes power. It’s him! No doubt about it. We have to stop him! It says so in the book!”

“You are right… it says so in the book, but what if… what if the book is wrong?”, said Samson with a question on his face. “He doesn’t seem to be so bad.”

Earl’s face turned a bright shade of red and moved towards Samson so fast he was like a cheetah coming to his prey. Shoving Samson against the table of tools and standing on his tippy-toes. Although Samson was big, he wasn’t too smart, nor courageous enough to stand up to the former sniper. “What did you just say? You are doubting the word of God?”

“Not doubting… just… questioning. I just don’t want to fight just for fightin’s sake, you know?”

“Listen… I’ll fight until I can’t fight no longer… I don’t give a damn who they say he is. I know he is the damn anti-Christ and my Bible tells me Jesus is a comin’ soon to stop him. Nuff said!”

“So what are we going to do next?” asked Timmy.

“I’ll tell you what we are going to do next… I hear from the department that one of those ‘Enlight-gineers’ is coming to Little Rock soon. I say we put a b-u-l-l-e-t in his b-rain. What do you think about that?”

Samson had an averse look on his face, but shook his head up and down with consent. Timmy smiled and giggled. “A bullet in his brain. A bullet in his brain. Let’s take the horse-train to put a bullet in his brain!” He jumped up-and-down and ran to the gun case.

Earl beat him to it and pushed him aside before he could reach it. He lifted a necklace out from his sweaty white t-shirt with a key attached. He used the key on the gun case and slowly opened the two revolving doors. There, well cleaned and by its lonesome was a tactical .308 Winchester hunting rifle, used for deer, hogs, and the occasional human being.

“Enough is enough. We ride for Little Rock in the morning,” Earl told the others with a grin.

These three were what was left of the leadership of God’s Chosen, a ragtag rebel group fighting against the “One World Order” conspiring all along with the US government and specifically against a man they believed to be the risen “anti-Christ”. One small problem for them is there was no one fighting back. In the past revolutions there has always been a “You’re either with us or against us” mentality. In the latest “spiritual revolution” as they were calling it, there has been no one forcing anyone to change. Even worse most of their old “friends” were all for it and were actually supporting the “new way of life” that had emerged.

Perhaps since no one forced anyone to change, more people were prone to join their cause, or were doing so whenever they were ready. The God’s Chosen didn’t care… They were fighting because they believed fighting was the right thing to do, and they weren’t going to give up so easily. They were not going to fall for the “guvement” or “his” tricks any longer. Now was there time to start fighting back. This is their tale.

Day 45

Kolkata, India

Everything is going well. Tomorrow is my last day with the Missionaries of Charity, then Sunday I have a long long train ride down to Pondicherry.

Hope you enjoyed the first episode of the short story series I am working on. It’s just for fun/practice so don’t take it too seriously! 🙂

List of daily expenses and donations between May 30th and June 5th, 2015:
Total spent on food: $27.86

Room: $21.99

Random: $21.88

Travel: $2.53

Total: $223.07 + 74.21 = 297.28 divided by 45 days = $6.61 per day

Donations given to random strangers = 128 Indian rupees or $2.01

Donation to Gandhiji Prem Nivas Leprosy Center = 500 rupees or $7.85

Donation to Missionaries of Charity = 1000 rupees or $15.71

Total = $1033.83 + $25.57 = 1059.40 divided by 45 days = $23.54 per day

Expense account = $426.63 – 74.21 = $352 (Avg. $6.61 per day will last 53 more days)

Donations account = $115.75 – $25.57 = $90.18 (Avg $23.54 per day will last 4 more days)

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This American Sadhu

Wandering traveler, writing a story, contemplating spiritual stuff, living austere, and helping random strangers... all rolled into ONE. What fun!

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