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## You will not like this book

#

# Saving Jesus

## A gospel according to Stacy

# Chapter 1

# God is good

"God is good."

"God is good."

The greeting seemed mechanical---and it was. No one asked how your day was, not anymore. The standard greeting was so common the words seemed to lose significance to anyone listening. Yet the greeting was vital and no one welcomed another without uttering those words. God is good and if you didn't believe God was---you were as good as dead.

Pastor John Quinn faked a smile and asked the vendor for a deep fried turkey leg with fries and a large iced tea. The atmosphere was that of a Resistance faire with a line of food vendors running along the backside of the stadium. The overall odor in the air was that of grease and burnt hair and the smell pissed off John to no end. He had argued with the organizers to move the food vendors to a different part of the stadium or move the side stage but his requests were ignored. He was basically a nobody.

The pastor paid for his food and stepped over to an eating area---a section of wood tables set up in view of the witch burning stage and sat down. Today was an overcast day, chilly with a constant breeze. Almost too cold for him bundled in two shirts, a hoody and an overcoat. If it wasn't for the special day he would have stayed home, but nobody stayed home today. Only if they absolutely had to due to their job.

Two o'clock came and went and three was quickly approaching. Every hour on the hour until six pm a woman, a "witch" as they called her was sacrificed, burned alive on the stage to the entertainment of the enormous crowd gathered to watch. And every time she was blasted with the flame thrower the flash emanated the scent of her burnt hair into the air and that didn't set well with John as he tried to eat his late lunch. The layout of the stadium funneled the breeze right to the food court and today was an exceptionally windy day.

As he took a bite from his turkey leg, John heard some rumbling from the crowd and looked up to see men in yellow work uniforms up on the stage. He didn't notice before but charred flesh from the last "witch" who was set ablaze was embedded into the mechanism and the next show was in twenty minutes. Then he overheard someone say there was a problem with the gas flow valve and there would be a delay. John stopped chewing on his turkey leg and shook his head in disgust. He walked a hundred yards through a thick crowd to get here on time to see the three o'clock show and now there was a mechanical problem.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. Cursing was frowned upon as a sin and he could be reported. He looked around and no one was looking in his direction. As a pastor he would be held to a higher standard and expected to be an example. But there would be no exception if he were caught, everyone, including pastors were subject to punishment.

The workmen managed to pull charred body parts from the hook that was used to dangle the victims above the crowd as they burned but John noticed the pilot light was now out. Normally there was a bright blue flame that was constantly burning used to ignite the torch when the Napalm gas jets shot forth. Then he saw more workmen, this time in blue collared shirts on the stage, one of them was pointing up to the gas nozzle and talking on a radio. He knew from the work uniforms and tool belts they were wearing the men were from the local gas company and could see one of their vans poking through a driveway door on the perimeter of the stadium near the portable toilets.

"Now what?" he thought to himself. He had spent most of the morning on the opposite side of the stadium near the main stage watching homosexuals being nailed to and hung from crosses. He looked down at his meal and realized he was missing something. He forgot the baked beans that he used as dip for his turkey leg and fries. He looked around to see how many open seats were near him if someone would happened want his seat while he went back to the vendor. There were people all around but plenty of open seats. Maybe if he left his food on the table as a mark he could come right back to where he sitting, but then that was an open invitation for someone to swipe his lunch. Although stealing was punishable by death, John still worried someone would slip his turkey leg under a jacket and be off in the crowd before anyone noticed. "Fuck it," he thought and gathered up his food. Better safe than sorry. The trip back to the vendor was reasonably quick considering how many people he had to navigate around and between, and the line once he got there was only two people deep. The turkey leg and fries were still warm on this cold blustery day and felt good in his hands.

"God is good," John said to the vendor as he stepped up to the counter.

"Yes I am," the young woman replied with a grin.

"Talk like that can get you killed," John replied. "You should watch your mouth. That's blasphemy."

"What can I get you?" the woman asked ignoring John's comment.

"I don't think you realize the significance of what you're saying Miss," John snapped back. "There are people here that would haul you off and turn you in if they heard you."

"Are you one of them?" the woman asked. She was now a bit apprehensive but still glib. She had a glint in her eye and the corner of her lip was raised.

"Yes, but I will give you a second chance. Jesus did say to turn the other cheek."

"That's what they say."

"That's what the bible says young lady---not 'They."

"There's a line behind you, what can I get you?"

John stared at the woman and bit down on his lip. He wanted to rage on her but took a deep breath instead and replied, "Baked beans."

"Baked beans please?" the woman asked smug.

John shook his head. "Baked beans please."

Then from behind John heard a voice call out over the public address system. He turned and saw the image of a man on a huge screen at the back of the stage where the torch was set up. The man was dressed in a coat with dark gloves and an orange hat. He held the microphone to his lips and said, "We regret to inform you but we are going to have to delay for at least three to four hours."

The crowd rumbled and the volume of sound doubled in an instant. "What do you mean three to four hours?" a man called out.

"We have a mechanical problem and need to get parts. The parts we need will have to be flown in and that will take time. As you know we no longer have the same access we used to have to parts."

"It will be too late by then!" another man yelled out.

"Once we get the parts and the machine is running again we will speed up the schedule. Instead of one witch per hour we will burn one every fifteen minutes. Don't worry, you will still get what you came for."

John heard the female vendor call out to him from behind, "That will be four dollars."

"For a cup of baked beans?"

"This is a special event," the woman replied.

The special event she referred to was the annual extermination, or otherwise known as the **Killing of the sinners**. Homosexuals, abortionists, witches, Catholic Priests, evolutionists, and anyone that disagreed with the new church's interpretation of the bible. The event was now in its third year and based on the colosseum in Rome, a stadium built to seat ninety thousand people with all the accommodations of a three day rock concert. At one end was a massive stage where Christian bands played book ended with a huge dinosaur replica on each side. Part of a creationist petting zoo set up with figurines of humans and dinosaurs interacting. A third into the crowd and to stage right was a different platform where crucifixions of homosexuals took place and two thirds to stage left was the witch burning stage. At the back of the stadium lined from edge to edge were food vendors and lined up perpendicular to them to the right were one hundred and fifty portable toilets.

The stadium sat on the site of where the **Ark Extravaganza Museum** once stood. That was before it was burned to the ground by anti-Christian protestors, otherwise known as militant Atheists. Despite the cold weather, the place was packed with believers here to see a show. On the witch burning stage women who were convicted of having abortions were hung up nude from a hook and fried under an intense Napalm gas jet flame until their screams stopped and their fat dripped into a special vats centered below them. Over time the women had been awarded the title of "witches," as it was a quick, easy and negative way to refer to them. "Women who had abortions," just didn't have the same ring to it.

Although abortion had been outlawed since the three state area had been taken over by the Christian sect called **Biblandia** , there were still pockets of back alley clinics and the practice continued. And that is how they came this day to burn these women. When one clinic was discovered, the practitioner foolishly kept a medical records of his patients and the women were hunted down and arrested. After a short trial in a Christian courtroom their fates were sealed and they spent the best part of a year in jail awaiting this Day of Judgment.

There was no Row vs Wade in Biblandia. A new and separate country that managed to succeed from the union when the radical Christian military took over three Minuteman-III missile silos during the Christian uprising. In fear that the country would be soon taken over by secularists, the church took action to secure its future. Biblandia was made up of the former states of Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia and its power was centered in the capital of Kentucky, Frankfort.

With the threat of nuclear destruction the new country was secure---for now. There was always a threat from the outside but despite the backwards reputation of the area, there were many technologically savvy industrialists that had the ability to cut off the missile system and take it over for their own means. They needed the excuse to finally put their plan into action.

Again the voice called out over the speaker system and John took notice. He stepped away from the food vendor to let the next person in line order keeping his eye on the huge screen up on stage.

"Everyone please bow their heads," the man with the microphone stated. "Lord, we pray that you help us at our time of need. We pray for fast and safe passage for the crew that are bringing forth the necessary parts to repair the torch of praise, worship and correction. We pray the parts will do what they need to do so we can do your work and punish the sinners that make a mockery of your love of life. There is no greater sin than that of those who take the lives of the unborn and we in our worship of you will do what we can to right that wrong and send the sinner straight into hell. Please Lord, hear our prayer for you are the almighty one, the exalted one and the only perfect one. In your and Jesus name, Amen." The man raised his head, turned around and headed off stage.

John watched as a hundred or more heads raised back into the upright position like a well-timed clock and then heard a flurry of beeping and vibrations from behind. He turned to see the woman who had served him lunch behind the counter staring down at her phone shaking her head with a twisted grin. As if she had received the most absurd text she had ever read. She looked up at John, shoved her phone back in her pocket and winked. She then turned her attention back to the man in line and took his order.

The trip back to John's seat was quick and to his relief nobody took his spot. He set his food back down on the table and scooped up some hot baked beans shoved them into his mouth. The flavor put a smile on his face and the hot beans on the cold day was just what he needed. Plus there was no longer the smell of burnt hair in the air.

The sky above hinted at a break in the dark grey clouds with maybe a little sunshine but every time a little blue shown though the wind quickly covered the blue with grey. The wind was nonstop---ranging from a slight breeze to a brisk wind that scattered the garbage on the ground around him and kept the flags nearby flapping endlessly. The wind-chill had to be in the teens and he could feel a burning sensation on his cheeks and nose. His hoody worked like a sail to collect the wind when he faced it so he tried to face downwind as much as possible. The only problem was he couldn't see the stage facing that direction, but what was there to see anyway?

Then he heard the familiar voice of the woman who had served him his meal. "Mind if I sit down?"

John looked up to see her standing on the opposite side of the table with a bag in her hand.

"No, go ahead," John replied motioning for her to take a seat. "Break time?" John asked.

"I'm done for the day, my shift is over," the woman replied.

John looked for a nametag but saw none. He felt like he should at least ask her name. "Who are you?" John asked.

"Stacy," the woman replied.

"Hi Stacy," John said and took a bite of his beans. "Got to eat them while their hot."

"No doubt, I'd ask you how you're doing but I can see you look miserable."

"Fucking freezing."

"You must have a low tolerance for cold."

"I'm wearing three shirts, a hoody and a jacket and I still feel cold. This wind sucks."

"Maybe you should pray for warmer weather?"

"I did," John replied.

"And how's that working out for you?"

John stopped eating and glared at the woman mocking him from across the table. "Prayer works," John stated. He was firm in his tone and a little upset. "You really need to watch your mouth."

Stacy pulled out her phone and slid her finger down the front as if she was searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" John asked.

"I'm checking something, no big deal," Stacy replied.

"The weather report? The forecast says it might sleet by midnight."

"It will."

"Is that what your App says?"

Stacy looked up from her phone and locked eyes with John. "No, I heard it on the radio. It gets boring working the food court, we play the radio all day. Hear it?"

John feigned listening, he didn't give a shit. "Yeah, maybe," John replied finishing his beans. "Man, I could use another bowl of these."

"Go ahead, they have plenty. By the way, what's your name?"

"John," was the reply. Then John felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket and read something from the screen. The look on his face was frustration and anger.

"What is it?" Stacy asked being polite and feigning interest in John's text. It was the socially acceptable thing to ask.

"You seem to know everything, you tell me," John snapped back.

"Obviously someone pissed you off."

"Obviously," John replied. He set his phone on the table next to his paper plate and rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand.

"Humor me, tell me what's bothering you. You'll feel better."

John paused for a moment and without realizing shook his head from side to side. Subconsciously he was giving off a signal that his anxiety was peaking and that he didn't know how to deal with it. "I got a text two days ago telling me that I needed to be here by three. I didn't recognize the number and I wasn't able to look it up online. The text said that something huge was going to happen here and that I needed to be here by three to witness it."

"Any clue as to what they were talking about?"

"None, just that I would regret not being here."

"There is a reason why you were called here. You know someone scheduled to burn."

"How would you know?"

"It's obvious."

"It's not obvious at all!"

"Tell me her name."

"I don't know who you're talking about, is there a list somewhere?"

"Yes dumbass, it's posted on their website."

"What's the website called?"

"KOTS.JESUS.COM," Stacy replied.

John poked and prodded at his phone until he had the website up on his screen. He navigated to the event schedule and found what he was looking for, a list of the women scheduled to burn alive on the stage. He quickly ran down the names and stopped cold in the middle. His jaw dropped as he leaned back in his seat." Holy fucking shit," John said under his breath. He couldn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Say it" Stacy demanded.

# Chapter 2

# Witches

John approached the cage and stood behind the barrier set up to keep the onlookers at bay. The cage was made of chain link fence with barbed wire running the length on top built to contain the witches that were scheduled to burn. The metal enclosure was about the size of a baseball dugout and looked similar, as if the person in charge of creating it was a fan. Between the cage and the spectators was about twenty feet of dirt and dead grass that contained grey colored child size crosses imbedded in the ground representing the babies the women had aborted. Next to those were banners with the witches names and photos.

There were four women, all nude, huddling in a corner of the cage trying to fight off the cold and wind. John scanned the witches looking for the one whose name he found on the website, the one he knew from his past. And then he saw her, Mary, the woman he had dated, broke up with and lost contact with. She was visible to the right, behind another woman who was taking the brunt of the wind at her back. Mary's long blonde hair flew up in the wind, was tossed around and bounced around landing back on her shoulders between gusts.

It had been over a year since he dated her and seeing her locked up in the cage sent chills down his back. He was already shivering in the cold with several shirts and coats and couldn't imagine what these women were going through. They were sinners and they were being punished, but knowing one of them personally made him think hard about what they were doing to them. Then he remembered she was scheduled to be torched at three and the only thing keeping her alive was a mechanical problem with the machine set up to end her life in the most painful way imaginable.

"Mary," John called out. There was no response.

"Mary!" John repeated, this time shouting over the wind. He noticed her perk up and raise her head above the other women scanning around for who called her name. When she noticed John, he began to wave to her to make sure he got her attention. She made hard eye contact and ducked back down behind the other women. John wasn't sure why she dropped back down, was it the cold wind or was she avoiding him?

Scanning the crowd John saw an event staff dressed in a brown uniform and approached her. "I need to speak to one of the women in the cage," John said.

The event staff looked up at John like he had just said the most absurd thing she had ever heard. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"I know one of those women, I need to speak to her. Please."

The staff member paused for a moment and reached for her radio and stopped. "What's your name?" she asked.

John was hesitant to give his name. He felt like she was ready to turn him in for something but he didn't know what. "Pastor John," he replied.

"Last name?"

"I'd rather not say."

The staff looked around and thought for a moment before she replied. "What do you want to speak to her about?"

"It's personal."

"Personal," she replied flat. "I don't think I can do that."

"Why not? I can yell at her from the rail if I want."

The staff pointed to a sign clearly posted next to the cage. It stated in large letters, " **Do not speak to the witches**." "Sorry, against policy."

"This is different, I know one of them."

"I bet a lot of people know some of them, they're all local."

"What's it going to hurt for you to let me speak to her?"

"Even if I had that kind of authority I wouldn't let you. The sign clearly says no speaking to the witches."

John was getting pissed. The more he spoke to this woman the more his anger grew. "What are you going to do to me if I go over there?"

"I'll call security and have you tossed out," the woman replied. She pointed to a group of bikers adorned with black leather vests and Confederate flag bandanas imprinted on their backs and wrapped around their heads. Each carried an AR-15 at their side.

"I'm a pastor," John snapped back.

"So am I," the woman replied. "So are half the people here."

Livid, John stepped away from the staff and walked back over to the rail. He kept an eye on security and tried to think of a way to communicate with Mary. He wanted---needed to know why she was here. It was obvious she had an abortion at some time but never told him. Not that it was any of his business but now he wondered if he had anything to do with it. Why did he get the text? Who sent it? Was this the "huge" event he needed to witness? Then he felt a heavy hand on his left shoulder and turned to see one of the redneck security guards facing him.

"You need to show some respect," the guard stated. He wore dark mirror sunglasses and spoke through a filthy thick red beard. His teeth were coated with chewing tobacco and his rifle was in plain view slung over his tattoo covered shoulder. He wreaked of menthol and smoke.

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. We have rules here," the guard spoke with a thick Tennessee accent.

John turned his head and saw the event staff watching from afar. It was obvious she called security over to talk to him. "I didn't break any rules."

"And we plan to keep it that way. Maybe you should move along."

"I'm not doing anything wrong, I want to be here."

The guard lifted his glasses and glared at John with his bloodshot eyes. "If I as much as see you do anything questionable I will kick your ass out of here. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," John replied.

The guard paused for a long moment and slowly placed his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose. He looked back to the other guards and back to John. "Have a nice day," the guard stated low and slow and stepped back joining the other two guards.

A cold gust slapped John in the face and stung him hard. He couldn't imagine how those poor women felt huddled down in the nude. Then he noticed something else from the corner of his eye. A figure slowly approaching from his left, not a guard but an older woman, in her late sixties dressed in a parka using a walker to help her ambulate. John immediately recognized the woman, she was Mary's mother and she was looking between the ground and his face as she stepped nearer.

"John," the woman called out. Her name was Anne.

"What are you doing here?" John asked. He was surprised to see her here.

Anne stopped a few feet from John and pulled back the fur lined hood of her parka. Steam drifted in the wind with each breath she took. "I see you got my text."

John hesitated. "That was you? Why?"

"I wanted you to see what they were doing to my daughter. The mother of your child."

"My child? I had no idea," John snapped back. He felt accused and tried to defend himself as panic set in.

"I know you didn't, but I still thought you should know," Anne replied.

"If I would have known she was pregnant I may have taken the baby."

"And you may not have. She struggled with that decision more than you will ever know. She wanted it over and to move past all the pain and grief you put her through."

"It was a two way street, don't try to blame me for what happened. And for a decision she made alone."

"I don't blame you, not all of it anyway. I know how she can be. And I asked her to contact you so I don't place all the blame on you."

"None of this is my fault. I can't read minds," John snapped.

Anne didn't reply, she looked John in the face with pity. "First I lose my grandbaby, and now I lose my daughter."

"And that is a tragedy, what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Don't worry John, I've already taken care of it."

"What is that supposed to mean? Did you pray for her life?"

"Why should we have to pray to God to do what he should do anyway? What kind of lazy, pathetic child needs to be begged to do what's right? What kind of narcissistic fool is running our lives?"

John looked around in a panic. He knew if anyone heard her that both of them could be arrested on the spot for blasphemy. "Shut your fucking mouth," John said with his teeth clenched.

"Are you kidding me? God is a sixteen year old girl that sits around with her cell phone waiting for people to beg her with prayers she has no intention of granting. It feeds her ego. Have you ever had a prayer answered?" Anne asked.

Again John hesitated. "Yes, many times."

"Tell me, prove to me your answered prayers."

John scrambled to think. He was lost and Anne knew it.

"Don't lie to me pastor, you know I'm right. I'm no fool and I won't put my fate and the fate of my daughter's life in the hands of your God. I put the fate into my own hands."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"The gas jets don't work on the flame thrower, do they? Do you think that's by accident?"

"You did that?"

"No you idiot, my son did. He works for the gas company. He was here at six am sabotaging the mechanism and installing a bomb."

John looked over his shoulder at the crew on the stage and walking around on the ground dressed in gas company informs. They were all over the place. "Which on is he?"

Anne giggled. "Are you kidding me? Even if I did tell you who it was there is no way to disarm the bomb."

"How long?"

"You'll know when it goes off and a third of the people here are sprayed with burning Napalm."

"I could tell somebody."

"Go ahead, see what they do to you? Looks like that security guard wanted to kick you out, give him a reason."

"They wouldn't kick me out with that kind of information, I could save hundreds of lives."

"They already think you're a trouble maker."

John knew Anne was right. He was treading on thin ice as it was. "What about Mary? She'll be burned alive either way."

"Hopefully she dies of hypothermia first."

"You think that's better?"

"Isn't freezing to death preferable to burning?" Anne asked.

"I think it's about the same if you ask me," John replied.

"At least if she dies from the cold she won't have to endure the pain of the flame."

John looked back over to the women huddling in the cage. "I suppose," John replied. "I just wish there was a way we could get them out of there now. Can't you use the bomb as leverage to set them free?"

"Are you kidding? Let's say they set her free, as soon as the bomb was disarmed they'd arrest all of us and add us to the show. There is no way out, she is going to die either way, I just want to take as many of them with me as I can."

"What about your son?"

"He will be far away from the blast when it goes off. I'm not worried about him."

John knew people were within ear shot of the conversation but also knew this woman wasn't going to keep silent. She baited him here so she'd have someone to focus her anger on even though he wasn't the one ultimately responsible for the abortion. He didn't know what he would have done if he would have been informed, but now he was a part of it. Then a horrible idea flashed across his mind. "Did you tell anyone that I was the father?"

Anne shook her head slow keeping her eyes on the crosses that darted the ground before them. "No," Anne replied. "Nobody cares about the father, the mother always gets the blame. I could tell everyone here right now what you did and no one would bat an eye. The world is a very sexist and unfair place. Men always get away with murder, women never do."

"That's not true and you know it, men always get the harder punishment."

"Maybe in some instances, but not in this one. For some reason there seems to be a hard on in the minds of all Christians when it comes to abortion. It is dire that they save the unborn but from that point onward the child no longer matters and will often become the victim of abuse. It's almost as if they are saving them just to turn around and harm them. Like cattle in a pen."

"You're talking about Catholics."

For the first time Anne smiled. "I'm talking about all of them. You know what will anger these so called "Christians" more than anything, more than being set ablaze? It's that their precious final act won't take place tonight. All that work for nothing."

"I'm sure setting fire to a third of the spectators will make them plenty angry," John replied.

"Not as much as watching a hundred and fifty Catholic priests hang on the main stage ten at a time. All set to the stage show and a rock soundtrack," Anne stated almost in a dream state. She seemed to be imagining the event in her mind. "I would actually like to see that."

"You are one sick bitch you know that?" John asked.

"Those baby rapers deserve to die in the most spectacular way. With lights, fog and flashing lights as they drop from the gallows and stretch their necks for all to see during a dramatic guitar solo. You are right about one thing, I'm very selfish. I realize my daughter committed a great sin and she deserves to be punished, but as her mother I won't allow that to happen without consequences. She is my only daughter, the mother of two wonderful children and soon to be either frozen or burned to death for all to see. She, nor I will not go down easy."

# Chapter 3

# Non-Binary

"God is good," the Reverend Josiah Aldridge exclaimed through his lavalier microphone to the crowd of ninety thousand plus. His voice amplified a hundred times through a public address system Metallica would envy.

"God is good," the crowd yelled back in unison.

Josiah was a tall man, dressed in a dark grey three piece suit and red tie. His shoes so polished the stage lights would blind anyone looking at the reflection. This was a man of power and everyone knew his name. "Welcome to the final day of our special celebration---I am so happy you came to add to the worship of our Lord and savior Jesus Christ, the one and only true Son of God."

No one applauded or said a word, it would be disrespectful if they did. The crowd would only cheer if directed by Josiah.

"In a few hours, after the band has finished you will be treated to a spectacle that will inspire you in your faith like no other. As you know we have one hundred and fifty Catholic priests, all convicted child molesters prepared to hang in our version of the pubic square. It is my only regret we don't have the space here to draw and quarter them, that would be truly amazing to watch. Amen."

"Amen," the crowd responded.

Josiah turned and paced towards the right side of the stage as he continued to address the crowd. "But before we get to the main event, I want to share with you a lesson, a lesson that burns in my heart like no other. The bible clearly states in Leviticus 20:13, 'If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them,' yet these words, handed down by God himself written clearly in our Holy Bible is ignored by those in the self-proclaimed LGBTQ community. Or as I like to call it, "The fag and dyke squad. I don't have a good name for those so called Trans genders. Freaks maybe?"

Raising his arms, Josiah signaled the crowd to applaud like he was hosting a gameshow. To his immense pleasure the yells of his sheep drenched over him like the warm feeling of sex. He signaled to the side of the stage and five armed men shoved two figures, a man and a woman onto the stage and to where Josiah stood. The man and woman were both bound with wrist cuffs and both were wearing nothing but blue paint that spelled out the words lesbian, queer and fag across their bodies. The armed men reached to the stage floor and pulled up lengths of chain and attached to the bindings between the wrist cuffs and stepped away.

The man and the woman were now center stage, naked and bound so they couldn't leave. Terrified, they looked to Josiah, and back to the cheering crowd in fear. The man began to yell but no one could hear what he was saying over the noise and in a panic he attempted to pull himself free from his bindings. The more he pulled the more exhausted he became and blood dripped from his wrists onto the stage.

"Look at the poor queer," Josiah said with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. His mocking tone carried like a song. "He thinks he can break the chain. I would tell you to pray but I think it's a bit late for that now. I don't think God would change His mind anyway, as the saying goes, 'God does hate fags."

The man stopped pulling and bent over panting. The cold wind blasted across the stage tossing his hair around like a kite. The woman stood with her arms folded across her breasts, shivering and trying to keep warm.

"It is a bit cold out today," Josiah said. He looked to the side of the stage and signaled for one of his men to fetch his coat. "I want both of you to look over there," Josiah stated pointing to the left side of the crowd where men and woman were hung on crucifixes. "Those are your kind, the kind that spits in God's face. Look at them now, feeling the same torture the Romans put our Lord through. Can you imagine how they feel right now suspended by nails? Fuck that's got to hurt," Josiah yelled with a belly laugh. "Do you think you're any better than they?"

The man and woman shivered but did not reply. The crowd was silent waiting for any response.

Josiah paused---waiting for an answer but when he didn't get one he addressed the crowd again. "Remember the days when a queer, or 'transgender' as they like to be called was allowed into your bathroom? Before we took over and separated ourselves from America? A time when a queer had free reign to molest your child while you had no rights to stop it?" The crowd began to rumble without Josiah's prompt and he loved it. He knew how to insight anger in his followers. "One of these is a transgender I hear, but without the clothes it's hard to tell. From her haircut I think it's the woman, is that correct?" Josiah asked his stage manager. A quick response indicated the woman was indeed the transgender. "Thank you Peter," Josiah replied and nodded his head. Let's have a conversation with her, or him, fuck I don't know what to call the abomination." Josiah stepped over to the transgender and looked at it like they were a clown. "What is your name?" Josiah asked. He emphasized each word as he spoke.

The transgender didn't respond. Their eyes locked on the stage floor.

"Can I get a microphone?" Josiah asked. He realized the transgender's voice would not carry on his lavalier microphone. A stage hand ran out with a wireless handheld microphone and handed it to him.

"Once again, what is your name?"

"Fuck you," the transgender responded.

Josiah didn't think anyone heard her so he put the microphone close to her face. "Once again, I don't think they heard you."

"I said fuck you," the transgender responded.

A long pause ensued as Josiah thought of the perfect response. "I would call you Eve, the name of our original female sinner, but since you like to pretend you're a man, I will call you Adam."

"Call me whatever you like asshole," the transgender replied. Their voice was picked up well on the microphone and carried all the way back to the food court where Stacy was watching and playing on her phone. Stacy couldn't see Josiah or the man or the transgender from where she was sitting but their images were projected on three huge screens. One behind them and the other two flanking them high and to the right and left of the main stage.

Josiah kept far enough away from the transgender so that it couldn't attack him. He was a true coward that would lose in a fight with a child. "Tell me, why do you want to be a man? What's wrong with who you are, with what you were born to be?'

"I am who I was born to be," the transgender snapped back.

"Did you all hear that?" Josiah asked the crowd. He was afraid he was too far away for its voice to be picked up on the microphone. He looked to his stage manager who signaled its voice was loud enough over the speaker system. "I don't want to all to think I'm afraid of her, I just don't want to get any of her blue paint on my suit in case she decides to go crazy and attack me." That was a very good lie and was proud of himself for coming up with it in such a short time. "From what I see, you're a woman. You can't deny your biology."

"I'm non binary," the transgender shouted back.

"Excuse my language but what the fuck? Non binary? What are you? A robot?"

"It means I'm not one thing or another."

"The last time I checked there were two sexes, not three, not a dozen. You can't just make up whatever you feel like it. You're naked for the world to see and everyone can see you are female. Don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining. You're a woman."

The transgender didn't respond.

"You know the one thing that a "non-binary' shares in common with a binary? They both will hang from a cross with nails driven into their palms and wrists," Josiah barked. Satisfied he drove his point home Josiah signaled for his stage crew to bring two twenty foot tall crosses onto the stage. They were followed by several staff carrying cameras that projected images onto the screens behind and above.

The crosses were laid on their backs and man and a transgender were shoved to the stage floor as two stage hands came out of the wings with whips on their sides and clubs in their hands. The crowd began to rumble anticipating what was going to happen and energetic cinematic music played through the public address system.

"Two thousand years ago the Romans taught us a lesson on how to punish. They used their system on our Lord and now we will use it again on you. If you didn't witness the crucifixions on the side stage you are in for a treat. From the looks of it I think most of those queers and dykes are long gone dead. Let's begin the show." Josiah yelled over the loud music and spun around to the crowd's delight. Fog pumped out from off stage and colored lights flashed and rotated like a Las Vegas stage show mixed with a rock concert. The crowd screamed and shouted as the two nude sinners were beaten and whipped live and in full color before a crowd that reached to the food court at the back of the stadium.

Stacy looked at the big screen and thought what she was looking at was a magic act minus the magic. The music was so loud she shoved napkins in her ears to drown out the vibrations but the bass rattled her bones. The images on the screen reminded her of the Roman Coliseum only there were no Gladiators, just regular people with whips and clubs attacking helpless innocent people. People guilty of being who they were.

For the next few minutes the two victims were beaten and whipped until they lay bloody on the stage. Wounded but very much alive. A new set of stagehands adorned in bio hazard suits subdued the two, pulled them and centered them on the two massive wooden crosses. The man on one, the transgender on the other. Josiah signaled for staff to hammer the nails into their palms and wrists like magician assistants in a show. Only the nails were real and there was no magic.

Like a choreographed dance routine the crosses were lifted up into the air with pulleys and chains to the soundtrack of beating drums, screaming synths and rock guitar. The two victim's blood drained down the long shaft of the crosses as they were lined up and lowered into slots allowing the crosses to stand freely. The lift chains were removed and to the adoration of the crowd billows of fire shot forth from each side of the stage ending in a poof of black smoke.

The music stopped and Josiah stepped closer to the crosses. He raised his arms in a V shape mocking the position of both of the victims to the delight of the crowd as they dangled. "Are you satisfied?" Josiah asked the spectators. More screams erupted to the delight of the Reverend Josiah.

The time was past three o'clock and Josiah was aware of the mechanical problems at the witch burning stage. He hoped the crucifixions would distract the crowd from one of their favorite side stage events and so far he had only heard a few whispered complaints funneled through staff. There was no update on a fix and no one had discovered the bomb strapped to the forty gallon tank of Napalm under the stage. Altogether there were twelve tanks set up to be used to burn the witches, and it was easy to hide the bomb in-between them. No one would have a reason to look for a bomb since the sabotage was done to a valve, a valve that would normally be easy to replace but replacements were hard to find.

"How are you all feeling today?" Josiah asked the crowd. He felt like he needed to keep up the excitement but had twenty minutes to kill before the headlining band was set up and ready to play. "Do you feel the love of Jesus in your heart?"

Then a voice called out from the nearly silent crowd. "When will you start burning the witches again?"

"We have competent staff working on that right now. I'm sure they will have the problem fixed soon," Josiah replied.

The crowd wasn't happy with the response and a grumble of voices rose to the stage.

"I know you have prayed together earlier today to help our technicians fix the problem, but let's again send prayers to our Lord that he will help us in our time of need," Josiah replied.

"Send prayers? To who?" the man called down from the cross.

Josiah looked up to the man who was ten feet higher than him and covered in blood. "Get him a microphone," Josiah stated and waited for his crew to get a ladder out and pin a wireless microphone to the man's cut up flesh. Now Josiah had a way to kill the twenty minutes berating the man he had tortured and hung up before the crowd. "Say that again, I want our parishioners to hear you."

"Send prayers? What are you going to do? Put them in a box and mail them?"

"I don't understand."

"You are so fucking stupid. You pray to God, you don't 'send prayers."

Josiah felt stupid. And pissed.

"It's the same thing," Josiah replied feigning a smile.

"No it's not and you know it. What kind of a fucking idiot are you?" the man asked.

The crowd erupted in laughter as this man made a mockery of the leader.

With a grin Josiah replied, "I think they like you. All hung up, bloody and beat cracking jokes," Josiah replied. He tried to gauge the crowd's reaction with some self-deprecating humor. "Maybe I am stupid, only He is the perfect one and I don't think He cares how we get our prayers to him. We can send our prayers to the Lords P.O. box in heaven," Josiah said with a smile. "One day we will all be with the Lord in heaven and we can visit the holy post office."

"The only place you will be going is hell," the man replied. His voice was hoarse and wet.

"I've accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior. My place is assured in heaven. You on the other hand, you sodomite will burn for eternity in a pit of fire."

"I have also accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior. You may have power over me here on Earth, but in heaven you will be my equal, if he allows you. I pray for you."

"Don't bother, I don't want your prayers," Josiah replied like he was being handed a wet dog.

"Where in the bible does it allow you to do what you are doing? How do you justify killing and torture?" the man asked. "The bible says, 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

"It also states, "Then the Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah—from the Lord out of the heavens. Thus he overthrew those cities and the entire plain, destroying all those living in the cities—and also the vegetation in the land." Josiah was smug in his reply. "See? God wants us to kill you---Sodomite. He works through me. I am his messenger on Earth."

# Chapter 4

# Mary

John felt a blast of heat from above and to his right. He turned in time to see a plume of dark carbon rich smoke rise into the air and dissipate into the gale force wind. He turned to Anne whose face was locked in a gaze of shock and horror at the site of the smoke and smell of Napalm.

"Mary!" Anne shouted suddenly realizing the gas valve had been repaired and now her daughter's life was in imminent danger. In a panic Anne approached John with her arms extended leaving her walker behind. "You have to help me! You have to save her!"

John stepped backwards and ran into a woman who was crossing behind him. He lost his footing and his balance but quickly recovered. "Stay away from me," John said to Anne.

"You have to do something," Anne pleaded.

"This is out of my hands," John replied. "You should never of texted me in the first place, I had no choice in the matter and now you've dragged me into something I can't change. I can't save Mary any more than you can."

The color flushed out of Anne's face when she realized John was right. There was nothing either one could do, Mary's fate was sealed.

"You need to leave, don't watch what they do to her."

"She's my child, I won't leave her," Anne replied with tears in her eyes.

John saw guards step out from a doorway under the stage and walk over to the chain link cage that housed the women. They unlocked the door and pulled Mary out and slammed the door behind her and locked the cage. "Come with me," John pleaded.

Anne turned and watched the men escort her daughter across the grounds and into the doorway under the stage. In an instant Mary was gone. Anne's shoulders slumped and she fell to her knees sobbing.

It would be a matter of time before security would be in his face again with all the commotion so John decided to leave the area. He felt heartbreak for Anne and her daughter Mary but there was nothing he could do and he didn't want to meet a similar fate. He was probably fifty feet from the food court and decided to go back and try to find Stacy. She was the only familiar face and maybe she could help him get away from the bomb that was under the stage ready to go off at any time.

As he proceeded through the crowd towards the food court he noticed everyone was crowding in closer in the opposite direction. Now that the burner on the flame thrower was working everyone wanted to see the show and headed towards the stage. 'What fools they were' John thought to himself considering the bomb could go off at any time and spray them with flaming Napalm. 'They all deserved to burn' he thought and maybe he himself to an extent but his natural desire to live pushed him away from the stage and towards Stacy.

At the food court John scanned the area looking for the young woman with the phone. She had jet black hair that ran down to her ass and pasty white skin that looked like a ghost. He found his old table and she wasn't there, just a family group enjoying an early supper. He turned and walked back to her station and she wasn't there either.

"I'm over here," Stacy called out.

Stunned, John turned and saw Stacy standing by a trash can holding her phone. "How did you know I was looking for you?" John asked.

"Good guess," Stacy replied flat.

"We've got to get out of here."

"Maybe you do, I don't have to do shit," Stacy replied.

Moving in close, John said low and slow, "There's a bomb under the stage attached to a tank of gas, if you want to live you better leave, now."

"Of course there's a bomb," Stacy replied with a grin.

"I'm not joking, I spoke to someone who knows about it."

"I'm sure you did."

"Are you going to just stand there?"

Stacy pushed some buttons on her phone and shook her head. "Sending prayers? Who the fuck are these people? Thoughts and prayers? Why would I bother?"

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"Never mind, you wouldn't understand.

"I understand better than you think I do."

"Let's just say that people are fucking idiots. Lazy, stupid, fucking idiots. Dogs are smarter than most of them."

"A dog wouldn't wait around for a bomb to go off, if you don't want to go fine, I'll see you in hell."

"Fine," Stacy replied. She stepped away from the trashcan and led John through the crowd towards the row of portable toilets. As they progressed the crowd thinned and then thickened again as they reached the main crowd. They were now a good seventy feet from the witch burning stage and about fifty feet from the crucifixion stage. There was a door to the main exit twenty feet away but the exit was plugged with people waiting to go to the bathroom.

"Look," Stacy said pointing to the witch burning stage.

John looked in time to see the lights come up and hear music blaring from the side speakers. On the screen at the back of the stage Mary's image and name glared from the LED screens and from a door above a mechanical arm protruded through an open window with Mary dangling by a chain wrapped around her wrists.

Shocked and dumbfounded, John took a few steps forward and watched the mechanical arm move twenty feet out and stop above the stage deck. The sudden stop caused Mary to swing front to back ten feet over the deck. In the dark of the overcast day John could easily see the dual bright blue pilot lights that burned on either side of her three feet away. There were two gas jet nozzles that flanked her pointed at her midsection ready to fry her with the flip of a switch.

Over the loud speaker a prerecorded male voice called out, "The time has come for the sinner to meet her maker, her creator and our Lord Jesus Christ. Mary chose to break the law and end the life of an unborn child so she could selfishly go on with her own without burden. The burden of another living being. Now she shall receive punishment suitable for murderer. Death by fire."

Attempting to fight her way from the chains, Mary spun and kicked her feet trying to loosen her restraints to the cheers of the crowd. The more she struggled the more the mass of onlookers loved it. Then a small burst of flame shot out from both burners and Mary convulsed. The crowd shouted with joy as the controllers toyed with the restrained nude woman dangling helplessly above the stage. Again, another short burst of flame, this one larger but not large enough to touch her. It was obvious she could feel the heat as she tried to squirm her way from the flame.

"Are you ready?" the voice asked over the speaker system and the crowd yelled approval.

"Are you ready?" the voice called out louder, more excited.

"Yes!" the crowd responded.

"Burn!" the voiced yelled as the two gas jets shot at full strength encompassing her entire body in fire. There was no letting up, she burned for sixty seconds draining ten gallons of Napalm until the valve closed. The Napalm continued to burn after the jets were turned off and bits of flesh dripped off her charred burnt dark red body into a bucket placed below. She didn't move. Black smoke drifted off her body caught up in the gale force wind that whipped away over the back of the stage wall.

"Holy shit," John said with his jaw wide open. He couldn't believe what he witnessed. Mary continued to burn for another three minutes until the crane arm retracted back into the open window and a cover closed the opening.

"What did you expect?" Stacy asked.

"I knew her."

"Yeah, I bet that makes it worse."

"You are one cold hearted bitch, you know that?"

"Let's just say that I know how cruel people can be. I've been known to be cruel myself at times. We all do it."

"I want to see the bomb go off, I want to see all those fuckers fry."

"We're too close, if we can get up to the main stage we should be far enough."

"It's wall to wall people to the main stage. We'd have to walk on top of them. And I don't know how much time we have."

"Follow me," Stacy said and pushed her way through the packed crowd.

The Christian band on the main stage was twenty minutes into their set when John and Stacy reached the exit. To their disappointment there were armed redneck guards posted and a sign that read "No exit until nine o'clock,"

"What the fuck?" John exclaimed. "What if I had an emergency?"

"Go tell them you have a sick kid and you need to leave," Stacy replied over the loud music.

"That might work," John said. "Come with me."

Stacy followed John over to the exit and approached the one guard that was actually dressed like one. He wore a dark grey military tactical uniform with a pistol at his side and a rifle slung over his right shoulder. "Do not approach any closer," the guard stated. "This is a controlled area."

"I need to leave," John said. He didn't have to fake anxiety, he was scared to death.

"No one leaves until the end, read the sign."

"I have a sick child at home, I need to get to him."

"You can call the dispatch center and they can send an ambulance," the guard replied.

"He doesn't need an ambulance, he needs his dad."

The guard reached for his radio then stopped resting his hand instead on the butt of his pistol. "What's your name?" the guard asked.

John was fucked, he didn't have a child and now they were calling him on his claim. "Why does that matter? I told you my child is sick and I need to get to him."

The guard raised his hand and made a spinning motion towards the sky. He was giving a signal to someone and John panicked. "What are you doing?" John asked. His voice was higher pitched and forced. Then he saw a camera that was mounted on a pole behind the guard spin in his direction and the lens begin to spin into focus. John immediately raised his hand and blocked the camera's view of his face.

"Put your hand down," the guard stated. His voice calm yet direct.

"I'm not a criminal, I just need to get to my kid."

"This will only take a minute, put your hand down."

John spun away from the camera and put his back to the guard. He didn't realize there were three other cameras focused on his face from other points in the stadium. The camera processed his image and facial recognition software identified him immediately. The guard was relayed the information along with any criminal history John may have had. The only thing on record they would find was a juvenile minor in possession charge from fifteen years prior. But there was no record of John being married or having children. This made the guard very suspicious. "I need you to come with me," the guard stated. "John Quinn."

Shocked at hearing his full name, John spun around. "You're computer made a mistake, that's not my name."

"Then who are you?"

"That's none of your fucking business," John snapped back.

"Who's your friend?"

Stacy stood smug and smiled at the guard. "You tell me you fucking redneck asshole."

The guard spoke into his microphone and asked for her to be scanned as well. He was surprised when no information was found. The computer couldn't even get a match with anyone in its massive database. That was unheard of.

"Have we committed a crime?" John asked.

"You lied about your identity," the guard replied.

"It's not a crime to lie to the police."

"It is here, it's a crime against God."

"What is this, the inquisition?"

"Some would say so---yes," the guard replied. "We aren't Catholic, but the result is the same."

"Just let us go," John pleaded.

"Sorry, you are being detained," the guard said as he signaled the guards to take John and Stacy into custody.

Defeated, John looked back at the witch burning stage and prayed the bomb would go off now. He needed a distraction so he could escape. Then he saw Stacy on her phone poking at the screen.

"Can't you put that thing away for a minute?" John asked. "They're taking us."

"Don't worry your pretty head, I got a message."

"From who?"

"I'll tell you later."

# Chapter 5

# Burnt offering

The headlining Christian band 'Hallelujah Hero's' finished the show and stage hands began the task of tearing down the set and hanging gallows for the spectacle that would follow. The convicted child molesting Catholic priests were gathered outside the stadium under a tent guarded by armed locals ready to be led out on stage. Each priest was dressed in a traditional black cassock and waist cuffs that dangled down to their polished shoes.

On the main stage the Reverent Josiah sauntered out from the right flank dressed in white flowing robes with a deep purple stole scarf that hung round his neck. He fought back the high winds that blew his robes around like metal panels in a hurricane pausing occasionally to regain his balance. The wind chill was in the low twenties and sleet fell onto the crowd before him. To his advantage the great stage he stood upon had a roof that kept the precipitation away, the lights and speakers dry and dampened the wind.

"God is good," Josiah called out over the speakers to the huge crowd. He raised his left hand and swept from left to right greeting the masses before him.

"God is good," was the response. Just like clockwork.

"I prayed for better weather," Josiah said. "But God has a different plan for us. He is testing our faith, to see if we would turn out for worship, and as you can see, we did. Praise his name. Praise his name. Before we get to the part of worship you have all been waiting for, I want to spend some time demonstrating to you the glory of the Lord in his works." Josiah paused to gauge the crowd's response. They were quiet, not silent, but listening to his every word. "I want you to meet two people, both inflicted with horrible medical problems. One riddled with cancer, the other bound to a wheelchair with an amputated leg. I will use the power instilled in me to bless these individuals and rid them of their inflictions."

Over the speakers a low synth note played emphasizing the moment followed by a low thump of a canned bass drum. Lights bounced in rhythm and the crowd rumbled in response. Josiah used the music and lights to engage his audience and solidify their response.

With the flick of his wrist, two people appeared from behind a set of speakers and moved across the stage towards Josiah. The first was a decrepit older man in an electric scooter with a foot propped up on the foot rest, the other a leg amputated below the knee, behind him was a woman dressed in a long coat who had no visible problems at all.

"Come close my children," Josiah said motioning them to center stage.

The wheelchair came to a stop and slowly spun around to face the audience. The invalid lowered the foot rests so he could see the massive crowd before him. The woman stood next to him on the opposite side of Josiah.

"Madam, please come here," Josiah said offering his hand.

The woman stepped behind the wheelchair and stood next to Josiah. "What's your name?" Josiah asked.

"Pamela Brooke," the woman replied.

"Pamela, tell our flock what your condition is."

"I have ovarian cancer," Pamela replied.

"I am so sorry. How long have you known?"

"Three months."

Josiah addressed the crowd. "Did you hear that? This woman has been inflicted with cancer for three months." He turned his attention to Pamela. "Do you have children?"

"Yes, a boy and a girl."

"What are their names?"

"Danni and Alex."

"I'm sure Danni and Alex are very afraid of losing their mother, any child would. Tell me, do you believe in Jesus Christ?"

"I used to, I'm not sure anymore," Pamela replied.

"You used to? Do you believe He has the power to heal?"

"I don't know."

"Have you prayed to him?"

"I have."

"Has your condition improved?"

"No, they think my cancer has spread."

Josiah paused for a dramatic moment. "How can that be? You said you prayed. Why would the Lord allow your cancer to spread?" Josiah asked as he turned to face the crowd with one arm extended begging the crowd to cheer.

"I don't know. I ask myself that every day," Pamela replied over the crowd.

Josiah looked down at the stage floor and paused as if he was pondering an idea. He slowly looked up and raised his hands out towards the audience. "Maybe we need more prayer, maybe with the combined prayers of ninety thousand souls your cancer will be cured," Josiah said bowing his head and raising his hand to the sky.

"I don't understand," Pamela said.

"What is it you don't understand?"

"Why would more prayers make a difference? Doesn't God care when I pray?"

"You've heard of a prayer chain haven't you?" Josiah asked.

"Yes, but why do we have to ask God to do what he should be doing anyway?"

This was the second time Josiah heard this argument today.

"God needs to hear your prayers," Josiah replied nervously.

"What is he? A child? That's how children think."

"I think the devil has you," Josiah replied with a sneer.

"I praised God, I worshiped God and I prayed to God, yet nothing has changed. Actually I am worse off now than before."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I had to be here, we all had to be here. You have men here with guns!" Pamela snapped back. She was pissed.

"The reason why is because you don't believe."

"What?" Pamela yelled. "Don't tell me I don't believe, you have no right!"

Josiah stepped away from the woman dismissing her altogether. He tossed up his hands and shouted to the crowd, "I can't help her if she doesn't want help. I was going to bless her but I don't think she would accept it. I pray for her and her children. God, look over this woman that she will accept Jesus Christ into her heart as her personal Lord and savior. Let her find a place for you in her heart that she can accept your love. You are the perfect one, the holy one and the most kind."

"Your God is a fucking killer!" Pamela yelled.

Josiah spun around and glared at Pamela with daggers in his eyes, he motioned for the stage crew to remove the woman who was now storming over towards him. She pulled out a pistol from under her coat and held it up inches from Josiah's face. She was close enough to shoot him between the eyes with little effort.

"I know what you were planning to do up here," Pamela snarled. "Some sort of bogus faith healing. But I'm not going to allow you to use me as a pawn to further your religion."

"May I ask a question?" Josiah asked. He needed time to think.

"Tell your guards to back off."

Josiah motioned for the men to head back to the wings. "Are you an atheist?"

"I am now," Pamela replied. "I'm your worst nightmare, an atheist with a gun and I'm not taking any more of your bullshit."

"Can't you see what's going on? Did you actually pray?"

"I did," Pamela replied. "At my lowest moment, when I heard the cancer had spread I got down on my needs and prayed. See what it got me?"

"Your prayers were not genuine. Let us pray for you, let me bless you and you will find your cancer disappearing."

Pamela pointed to the man in the wheelchair who was missing his right leg below the knee. "Grow his leg back and I'll believe you."

Josiah grinned. "It doesn't work that way."

"You want to pray my cancer away but you can't grow this man's leg back? Tell me how it works then."

"We can pray for this man to have a better life, no one grows back limbs."

"Jesus raised the dead, that's a lot harder than growing a leg."

"Put the gun down," Josiah said softly. "There is no need for violence."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You crucified two homosexuals on this very stage an hour ago. You've been burning women alive all day on the other stage and more homosexuals on the other stage. Don't tell me there is no need for violence, you are all about killing in the name of your God."

Josiah was done listening to this woman. With a snap of his fingers a shot rang out from the back of the stadium and Pamela fell to the stage floor dead. Hit with a bullet from a sniper who was positioned on the third tier near the sky boxes. "The only good atheist is a dead atheist," Josiah stated to the cheer of the crowd. "Again we do the Lord's work and punish the wicked."

The man in the wheelchair didn't move, he was afraid for his life and didn't want to do anything that would upset the preacher with a sniper. He kept his face forward and hoped he could get off the stage unscathed.

"What about you brother? Do you believe?"

The man nodded his head in fear.

"Don't be afraid, we are here for you, not against you. Tell me, how did you lose your leg?"

Josiah stepped over and placed a microphone to the man's lips. "Diabetes," was the reply.

"What a terrible disease diabetes is, it afflicts so many of us. How long ago did you lose your leg?"

"Three and a half years ago."

"I see, and how have you gotten along since then?"

"I manage."

Josiah took a long pause as he walked around the wheelchair. He stepped in close and laid his left hand upon the man's head and stated, "In our fathers name I heal thee of your diabetes. No longer will you have to worry about losing another limb, or going blind. Do you believe?"

The man nodded.

"Do you feel the Lord's presence? Can you feel Him removing the disease?"

"Yes," the man replied.

"God is good," Josiah replied and stepped away.

"God is good," the man in the wheelchair repeated.

"You may go now."

"But what about my leg?" the man asked.

"God has provided you with this wheelchair."

"Actually Medicaid provided the wheelchair."

"What?"

"Medicaid paid for the chair."

"God paid for the chair, Medicaid was how He did it. Do you doubt me?"

"No," the man replied and pressed the go button on the control arm of his chair. As fast as he could he took off and left the stage leaving Josiah behind to talk to the audience.

"God is good," Josiah said.

"God is good," the crowd replied.

"Now I want to give one of you the opportunity to come up on stage and affirm your faith. I need a parent and a child, do I have a volunteer?"

The camera operators scanned the crowd projecting the images onto the huge screens behind Josiah. Hands raised all around and Josiah picked out a father and son from the near the edge of the crowd. It would be easier to get them up onto stage because the crowd was packed densely.

While Josiah waited for the stage crew to bring the father and son up onto stage, another stage hand wheeled out a table and a cart with a box on top. The box looked to be about the size of a good tool or tackle box and was grey in color. The table looked like a hospital gurney.

The cameras tracked the progress of the father and son all the way up the side of the stage to where Josiah was standing. The pair looked excited and the boy raised his arms as if he had just won the little league championship. A stage hand pinned a lavalier microphone to the father and tested it.

"You're son seems very excited today," Josiah said to the father. "Probably glad to be out of the sleet."

"Yes he is," the father replied.

"What's your name?"

"Ben McCloud," the father replied.

"And your son?"

"James."

"Very nice. As you know we brought you up on stage so you could affirm your faith in our Lord. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Absolutely," Ben replied. He was ready to give a speech, or repeat a verse or whatever Josiah asked of him. He was a bit boggled on why there was a gurney on stage, it wasn't there when he volunteered to come up.

"Tell me Ben, are you Christian?"

"Of course."

"Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and buried? That He descended into hell and on the third day he rose again from the dead. That He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty. From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead?"

"Yes,"

"Lord be with you," Josiah replied. "You know that God tested the faith of Abraham by calling him to sacrifice his son Isaac as a burnt offering. And that is why we have called you onto this stage tonight."

Ben looked as bewildered as he was not sure if what he heard was what he thought he had heard. "You want me to sacrifice my son?"

"You said you believed in our Lord, is that not true?"

"Yes, but..."

"There are no buts. The Lord spoke to me last night in a dream and commanded me to call on you to test your faith."

"But I volunteered, you picked me at random."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"God chose you. Not I. I am his vessel that he uses to do his will on Earth."

"I don't believe you."

"He told me you would lie and when it came to the ultimate test you would fail. You have proven to all that stand here that you are a coward and a liar."

"God didn't make Abraham sacrifice his child, he substituted a lamb!"

"We have no lamb," Josiah replied. "And since you are no better than an atheist you will be put to death as we do with all non-believers."

"This is bullshit," Ben replied. "Either I kill my son or you kill me? That's my option?"

"It's too late for that now, you have professed your lack of belief before this assembly and you will be punished accordingly."

"What about my boy?"

Josiah addressed James. "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?"

James looked to his father for guidance and saw him nodding yes. "Yes I do," James replied.

"Do you actually believe or are you just saying what your father wants you to say?"

"He believes!" Ben yelled.

"I want to hear if from the boy!" Josiah snapped back.

Frightened and frustrated James said, "Yes I believe."

Do you think it's righteous that we kill your father for denying God?"

James dropped to his knees and sobbed. He didn't want to answer, he didn't want to be on stage, he wanted to leave with his father and go back down into the crowd.

"I asked you a question."

"God forgives," Ben replied.

"God also kills the wicked. Genesis 6:17 I'm about to send a flood on the earth to destroy all people under the sky—every living, breathing human. Everything on earth will die."

Ben yelled back, "God promised he would never kill again!"

"You need to work on your bible before proclaiming your knowledge to me. It states in Genesis 9:11 'I am making my promise to you. Never again will all life be killed by floodwaters. Never again will there be a flood that destroys the earth.' I have no intentions of bringing forth a flood."

"Only a psychopath would ask a father to murder his son to prove loyalty. God is a narcissist with no self-esteem."

"You claim our Lord is a psychopath? A narcissist? The story of Abraham and Isaac is standard bible school teachings. He commands our love and our obedience."

"It's child abuse to teach such things. No wonder our kids are so fucked up," Ben replied.

Josiah motioned for the guards to come on stage. As they approached he called for them to strap Ben down onto the gurney and they did as commanded. James stood up and watched the armed men grab his father and force him down as he kicked and punched to no avail. Six men were able to tie Ben down in a matter of minutes and the cameras caught all of it projecting it on the screens to the shouts of the crowd. It was like a scene from professional wrestling only the results were all too real. There was no fiction, no storyline here.

"James," Josiah said. "I apologize that this is the way we found that your father is a liar, and an atheist. But we have the opportunity to right a wrong and profess your faith to the Lord instead. Will you come over here?"

James was a middle school child, about five foot seven and tall enough to stand over his father who was strapped down to the gurney. Ben was gagged and not allowed to speak and had a blind fold placed over his eyes so he wouldn't be a distraction. "What do you want me to do?" James asked.

Josiah opened the grey box that set atop the rolling cart and produced a twelve inch stainless steel hunting knife. He handed it to James and backed away motioning for the guards to keep an eye on him in case he decided to attack. "As Abraham was going to sacrifice his son to prove his faith in God, I command you to sacrifice your father to prove your faith. When he is dead, we will burn his body on this stage as a burnt offering."

James set the knife on his father's chest and backed away.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not going to kill my dad."

"You must."

"Fuck you," James replied.

Josiah didn't have a backup plan if this didn't work. He was convinced that anyone in the crowd would follow his commands like a mindless sheep. He was embarrassed and had to come up with a plan quickly. Something that would satisfy the blood thirsty crowd. "What if we set your father on fire and let him burn slowly? That's what we do to atheists anyway. Wouldn't it be better if you put him out of his misery faster?"

"I'd kill myself first," James replied. "You sick fuck."

"Are you a demon?" Josiah asked.

"A what?"

"The devil has tricked me and brought you on the stage to make a mockery of our Lord Jesus Christ. The devil came into my dreams and fooled me into thinking you were followers. Instead Lucifer infiltrated my mind, confused me and has used me to do his bidding. Please God forgive me for I have allowed Lucifer into my mind. Please God, rid me of all his evil influence and end this charade. Bring the kerosene."

James watched Josiah pour the flammable liquid onto his father and set the can down on the stage. A touch was handed to Josiah and he turned to address the crowd. "Today we punish the abortionist, the homosexual, those who profess the religion of evolution, Catholics and the atheists. But of all of these the worst is that atheist for he denies the very existence of our Lord and Jesus Christ. Lucifer himself scorns the atheist and treads on him because he denies him as well. I would sooner dine with a demon than with one who does not believe. The demon does believe and because of that I hold him in higher regard."

A hundred yards away strapped to a huge tank of Napalm gas a bomb timer counts down to it final moments while a charred body dangles from a hook fifty feet above. The last of the witches have been executed but six extra tanks of Napalm set in storage as a backup. Now they wait to be detonated.

# Chapter 6

# Inquisitor

The stadium was less than two years old built for the same reason the Roman Coliseum was, to provide punishment to the wicked and entertainment to the followers. This stadium had office space and conference rooms built in as the headquarters for the new state of Biblandia. There was also a courtroom, lab and news gathering service, and a television station all tucked neatly inside.

John and Stacy were led to a holding room adorned with white walls, white ceiling and a long dark brown walnut conference table in the center of the room with tall grey office chairs setting all around. Guards set the two detainees down at one end of the table and stepped back against the wall with their rifles held tight ready to use them with a second's notice. There was no one else in the room.

On one wall was a large flat screen television with a camera feed from the main stage with the sound turned off. On screen were workmen finishing erecting the gallows that would be used to hang the convicted Catholic priests. Not that the convictions mattered, Catholics were hated for abuse of power and the Pope had been historically referred as the "anti-Christ" and the "whore of Babylon." And now a new wave of Catholic abuses permeated the culture with the revelation of years of priest sexual abuse of children. Now that the country of Biblandia was formed the Catholics no longer held any control and all convicted priests were held captive in prison until the stadium was completed.

The room was silent as John sat nervously waiting for whatever security had instore. Stacy sat with her legs crossed playing with her phone like she always did. She seemed relaxed and content. Without a care in the world.

Then a figure entered the room. It was a women, dressed like a school teacher, knee length brown skirt, a cream colored blouse, and low grey heels holding a clip board. Only she didn't look like a school teacher with her fire engine read bald head, glowing yellow eyes and two small horns that protruded from her temples. She took a seat at the other end of the table, crossed her legs and set the clip board on the table top.

"What the fuck are you?" John asked.

"I'm the inquisitor," the woman replied.

"You look like a she devil."

The woman didn't expect this response. Nobody ever noticed her true appearance and was taken aback by his comment. Most people saw her as a young blonde woman with shoulder length hair and a fair complexion. Like any other woman.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You have horns sticking out of your head. And your face is red, and your eyes." John turned to Stacy and asked, "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Stacy glanced up from her phone and nodded in agreement.

"Are you the devil?" John asked.

"No, I told you. I'm the inquisitor."

"Then why do you look like the devil."

The inquisitor was at a loss for an answer. Something in the room caused her true appearance to avail itself and it bothered her, but she couldn't figure out why. "My name is Susan, I am here to ask you some questions, do you understand?"

"Ok Susan, whoever you are. Ask your questions."

"You were caught trying to escape from the stadium and lied about why. Can you tell me why you lied?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind. I didn't think telling them I was sick would work. They have medical stations set up."

"No, I mean why you wanted to leave. I don't care about your excuse."

Stacy spoke up, "You have the right to remain silent."

"No he doesn't," Susan snapped. "This is no longer America."

"Touché," Stacy replied.

"If I told you would wouldn't believe me anyway, you would accuse me of lying again," John replied.

"Try me," Susan replied smugly.

John leaned back, looked over to Stacy and back to Susan. "Are you going to write this down?"

Susan picked up a pen and pulled her clip board close. "Go on..."

"There is a bomb that's going to go off any time now and I didn't want to be around when it did."

"Did you plant this bomb yourself?"

"No."

"Then how do you know there really is a bomb?"

"Someone told me."

"Where is it?"

John hesitated. He needed a bargaining chip. "Let me go and I'll tell you."

"Tell me or I'll have my guards rip out your eyeballs," Susan replied. She didn't write anything down. She looked to Stacy, "Is this true, is there a bomb?"

"Of course there's a bomb you stupid bitch."

"Did you plant the bomb?"

"Fuck no," Stacy replied.

"How do you know there is a bomb?"

"I just know, trust me."

Frustrated, Susan tapped her pen on the clipboard and looked over to the screen on her right. It would be twenty minutes before the main show and a bomb would really fuck things up. Especially if it was planted somewhere near the main stage.

"You are lying," Susan replied. "There's no bomb, you're making an excuse. What is the real reason you were trying to leave?"

Stacy replied, "You are so fucking dumb. Just let him go."

"What about you?"

"I'm along for the ride, I could care less about this or anything else for that matter. Bomb or no bomb it doesn't matter to me. I came to sling hash at the food court."

"You have no history, how can that be?"

"You tell me."

"Everyone has a digital fingerprint, you have a phone, there must be a history there."

Stacy leaned over and slid her phone across the table to Susan. "Look for yourself."

Susan picked up the phone and turned the face towards her. All she could see was a black screen, nothing else. "How do you unlock this?"

"It's not locked."

Susan ran her finger across the screen. Nothing happened.

"It is locked, tell me how to unlock it."

"I'm not playing games with you, I told you the phone wasn't locked. You have it in your fucking hand. If you can't figure it out then fuck off."

Then with no prompts the phone lit up with a message, "You have thirty five thousand, three hundred and seventeen new messages."

"You must be very popular," Susan stated cold.

"Annoying as hell most of the time, but necessary."

"Necessary for what?"

"My ego," Stacy replied. "I love being adorned. But they are a pain in my ass. Very needy--always wanting something from me."

"Do you give them what they want?"

"No, and they keep coming back for more, I don't get it at all."

"Are you some sort of celebrity? Is that why we can't find any information about you?"

"Sort of I suppose, but not the kind you're thinking of."

"Do you have an album coming out? Or a new movie?"

"Almost every day," Stacy said with a grin. "Can I get my phone back now?"

Susan slid the phone back and Stacy looked at the messages. "Same old shit."

The monitor on the wall changed angles and the view was from atop the main stage looking out onto the crowd. Small drops of water distorted the image from the sleet that was falling onto the crowd below but most of the view was clear. All but the crucifixion stage could be seen on the screen including the food court and portable bathrooms to the far left. The last woman had been burned alive on the witch stage but the crowd was still thick because the place was now packed to see the final show. The hanging of the priests as it came to be known.

John stared at the image and waited for the bomb to go off. And it did. First a spray of liquid Napalm that was quickly engulfed by yellow flame. The fireball reached out fifty feet in all directions consuming all in its path. Anyone within fifty feet of the stage was now burning alive as the sticky liquid roasted and boiled them alive. Anyone not on fire tried to run away but was held back by the densely packed crowd. There was nothing set up to fight a fire of this size and location. The onsite fire suppression system failed miserably as more and more people succumbed to the flames and smoke and fell to the ground boiling in their own flesh.

"Holy fuck," John said as he watched the smoke rise on the screen and fill the picture.

Just then alarms sounded and lights flashed as the fire system went off in the building. In a panic John stood up and turned towards the doorway. The guards were gone and he knew this was his chance to get away. "Let's go," he yelled to Stacy. She pushed back her chair and stood up.

"Sit back down," Susan stated. She sat contently at the end of the table as calm as calm could be.

"This place is on fire," John stated.

"You will be fine, we have protection. This is a brand new state of the art facility."

"Then why did you guards leave?"

"They are trained to act in the event of an emergency. They're just doing their jobs."

"Good for them, we're leaving," John said flipping Susan off. "Where's the door to the outside," John asked.

"Down the hall and to the right," Stacy replied.

John didn't know how Stacy would know the exact location of the door but right now he didn't care. They both took off out of the interrogation room leaving Susan behind. In the hall they passed stadium staff who were running up and down the halls and they found the door to the outside wide open and unguarded. In a flash they were outside running through the cold wind and sleet heading towards the parking lot. They were free.

The parking area for the stadium was huge and John had no idea where he had parked. As he scanned the area looking for lot identification signs he saw huge plumes of smoke rising from the stadium being pushed along the fast moving wind. The sounds of sirens filled the air and emergency vehicles raced onto the lot and parked near the stadium entrances. Fire trucks, police cars and ambulances were everywhere with flashing red and blue lights with the piercing sound of sirens.

"Where did you park?" John screamed to Stacy.

"I took the bus," Stacy replied.

"Shit," John said spinning around. I think I'm parked on the other side of the stadium."

"Let's get out of here and find a bus, or an Uber," Stacy snapped. She was tired of the cold and the sleet and now that she was back in it she wanted to be out of it as soon as possible.

"This way," John said pointing to where the emergency vehicles were entering the grounds. There was a perimeter fence but the gate was wide open allowing vehicles in.

As they took off towards the exit they both noticed helicopters flying above. They were either emergency assistance, news or both and the image seemed surreal. Then they heard popping noises coming from behind them, like the sound of small explosions. Pop, pop, pop and then a low thunderous rumble.

"What's that noise?" John asked as he power walked through the sleet to the exit gate.

"Gas tanks," Stacy replied. "The ones the bomb didn't ignite are now exploding because of the heat."

"How do you know this shit?" John asked.

"It's obvious," Stacy replied. "What else could it be?"

John knew with the additional tanks exploding that more of the crowd was exposed to the flaming Napalm and the loss of life would be much higher. Anne got her way and had her revenge for the death of her daughter Mary. "Good for her," John thought to himself. "Good for her." As a pastor he had feelings that killing was wrong, but everyone justified it in their own way and to Anne, the killings were as justified as the church for what they were doing. To each his own.

# Chapter 7

# Something from nothing

John had a vision he couldn't escape. He knew what he was experiencing in his mind wasn't real but the dream felt as real as life itself. In the dream he was a nineteenth century Napoleonic soldier dressed in his blue, red and white uniform running for his life down a dirt path being chased by British infantry. He was not alone but the other French soldiers around him were only blurred images running for their lives as well.

The dirt path was the color of walnut and the patches of grass on either side of the trail were a pale green color. In the dream the sky was overcast but there was no wind or outdoor noise, just the sound of the British soldier's footsteps on the path gaining on him and his fellow infantry running out of time. Then John spotted a pond ahead in the center of the road. It was no more than twenty feet round with crystal clear water up to the edge.

Without direction he and the other French solders jumped into the water to escape the advancing British who were closing in fast. John dove as deep as he could trying to get away and turned to look up through the clear water. In his field of view was the image of sword blades over the water surrounding the edge of the pond ready to cut him down as soon as he surfaced. There seemed to be a dozen or more swinging blades but he couldn't remember seeing soldiers or their arms holding onto the hilts.

Then his lungs began to burn and he took in a quick breath of water and choked. In a panic he swam towards the surface and stopped when he realized he would be cut up as soon as he surfaced and took a breath. But he had no choice, he couldn't force himself to drown and continued upwards.

At that point John woke and opened his eyes wide. He found himself on a couch in someone's living room in the dark. He looked at his watch and read four in the morning. He quickly recalled how he got there and looked for Stacy. She wasn't in the room, nor was anyone else.

"That must have been a hell of a nightmare" Stacy said. She was sitting in a recliner looking at her phone, behind John out of his sight.

"How did you know?" John asked.

"You were jerking back and forth and mumbling. For a second I thought you were going to roll off the couch. Do you remember where we are?"

"Some friend of yours, I don't remember his name."

"Chuck," Stacy replied.

"Yeah, Chuck, now I remember. Where is he?"

"Probably in bed, it's four in the morning."

"Maybe we should get going, we have a better chance of getting away."

"We discussed this, where would you go? The cops were at your apartment and your face is on every electronic billboard in town."

"I don't know Chuck, what if he turns me in?"

"Trust me, he won't. You didn't do anything wrong anyway."

"But they think I did. Who's better to blame for the stadium blowing up than the guy who tried to leave just before it did."

"Don't forget me, I was there too."

"I need the bathroom," John said.

"Down the hall to the right, Chuck's bedroom is at the end of the hall so be quiet."

Chuck stepped into the kitchen and said, "I'm up, don't worry about me."

Hearing Chuck's voice, John sat up and looked over the back of the couch to where Chuck was looking in his refrigerator. "Hey, thanks for letting us crash here."

"No problem."

"I'll get out as soon as I can."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"I don't think the church will appreciate you harboring fugitives."

"If you burned that shit hole down I would be more than happy to harbor you."

John was confused. "What do you mean?"

Stacy replied, "Chuck is an atheist, and so are his friends. You'll meet them soon."

"An atheist? There's nothing worse than an atheist," John said with contempt.

"Really? They had a hundred and fifty Catholic priests ready to hang before you blew the place up. Those weren't atheist's doing that, those were Christians."

"And rightly so, they were convicted child molesters."

"Whatever happened to 'turn the other cheek?' or 'those with no sin cast the first stone?"

"That doesn't apply here. Those sick fucks molested children."

"And they were serving time in prison."

"Not good enough," John snapped back.

"That's the law."

"That was the law, this isn't America any longer. You know that. You could be convicted for being an atheist."

"Oh, I know. I fly under the radar every day," Chuck replied.

"What is this? Some sort of safe house?"

"Yes, and the irony is that you're the one who's safe in it so why don't you chill the fuck out. Do you want something to drink? I have orange juice and milk."

"Orange juice," John replied.

Chuck poured some orange juice into a glass and handed it to John. Chuck, a large man with short blonde hair looked like he fell off a Viking longboat. "Are you going to pray before you drink that?" Chuck joked.

"Don't mock me---atheist," John sneered.

"Dial it down preacher," Chuck replied. "Don't be judging me, I can do the same thing right back to you."

"You live in a Christian nation. Your obedience is the law."

"Thanks to a few absconded nuclear missiles and the church."

"It is the way of the Lord."

"Can you quote that from the bible for me? I don't recall nuclear technology anywhere in scripture."

"Do not assume that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword," John replied.

"That's a stretch."

"Not at all. When I'm cleared of the false charges against me, I will turn you in and you will pay for your lack of belief."

"What an ungrateful sack of shit."

"John 3:18, whoever believes in Him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of God's one and only Son."

"You're pretty good at regurgitating scripture. Like a trained monkey," Chuck replied.

Stacy spoke up, "You guys need to get along."

"He's a heathen," John stated.

"And proud of it," Chuck replied.

"You and your evolution, your worship of Darwin, your religion of Atheism."

"You and your six days of creation and six thousand years for the age of the universe."

"That's correct."

Chuck giggled and took a sip of his milk. "It's damn early to get into a debate."

"There's no debate, I have accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior and you will rot in the dirt."

"So?"

"I have everlasting eternal life in the kingdom of Heaven. You will be eaten by worms."

"And I'm perfectly fine with that. What's your obsession with living forever?"

"It's not an obsession, it's the truth handed down from the creator."

"Creator of what?" Chuck asked in a mocking tone. "There was never anything to create."

"You can't have something from nothing."

"When was there _'nothing?"_

"In the beginning. Why do you ask such a foolish question?"

"Your premise is flawed, there never was a time when there was 'nothing.' Matter cannot be created nor destroyed. It was always here. There's no need for a creator."

"Your science is flawed."

"Your bible is flawed, written by Bronze Age goat herders who had no concept of science. I'd trust them on goat breeding but that's about it."

Stacy spoke up again, "You're giving me a headache. Please stop."

Chuck replied, "If you don't like it here, you're free to go. If you turn me in I will tell your Christian police how you confessed to bombing the stadium. It will be my word against yours."

"You would you liar. Without God you have no morals."

Chuck choked on his milk. "What?"

"Without an outside entity to create morality, you have no reason to be moral. No reason not to rape babies, to lie, murder and steal."

"You mother fucker, they burned what five, six women alive yesterday and you say I have no morals?"

"They were being punished, for murder. That's the new law."

"And your 'God' handed that down as moral? I thought only he did that?"

"We do His bidding. By punishing the witches other women will be less likely to commit the same sin."

"Where does it say in your bible that killing in the name of morals is alright?"

"God flooded the entire Earth to rid it of sinners," John replied.

"Are you God?"

"Don't be absurd."

"I'm not the one being absurd here. You're making shit up to justify killing women."

"Lives of the unborn will be saved. That's all that matters."

"So the ends justify the means?" Chuck asked.

"Don't try to catch me in a contradiction, you will fail, as your religion of Atheism does."

"My religion of atheism?" Chuck asked with a smile. "You're so fucking dumb I don't why I bother with you. Get the fuck out of my house before I call the police."

Stacy held up her phone and spoke up, "Check it out, there's a ten thousand dollar reward for John."

"Really?" Chuck asked in a mocking tone. "Looks like your people agree with me, you really are a piece of shit. I could use ten grand."

John stood up and began to pace around the room. The dim light from the kitchen was enough for him to see where he was going.

"Calm down," Stacy said. "Nobody's turning you in."

"You're friend here just said he was..."

"He's fucking with you now sit down."

With his heart pounding John shook his head nervously and grit his teeth. He looked at his watch and said," I didn't do anything wrong. Maybe I should turn myself in and clear my name."

"Says here twelve thousand four hundred and seventeen people burned alive when they were sprayed with Napalm in the stadium," Stacy said reading off her phone. She looked up at John. "I don't think you should turn yourself in right now. There will be people that will take the law into their own hands."

"Fuck!" John barked.

"Watch your mouth preacher," Chuck replied. "Cursing is a sin."

A hot flash shot down John's back as a panic attack ensued. Sweat dripped from his face and neck and his breathing rate increased. "I don't know what to do."

"Pray," Chuck said in a mocking tone.

John glared at Chuck and held back rushing him and beating him to the ground. Instead they locked eyes like to rams ready to bash horns. In a low growling tone John replied, "Do not mock me again. I will pray when I choose. I will not be told to by someone who thinks they were created from monkeys."

Chuck slid open a kitchen drawer and pulled out a carving knife and laid it on the counter. "If you want to fuck with me go ahead."

Even in the dim light the blade was easy to see on the fake marble counter top.

Stacy spoke up again, "I probably shouldn't say this but he reward is now twenty five thousand. And no Chuck, you're not claiming the reward. Put the knife back where you found it. And John, sit back down on the couch before I make you."

The clock on wall dinged at four thirty breaking the tension and the silence. John sat back down on the couch and Chuck slid the knife back into the drawer. "I can make some eggs if you want," Chuck said. "I have toast."

"That would be great," John replied.

"How about you?" Chuck asked Stacy.

"Scrambled, and two toast with butter. And strawberry jam."

"How did you know I had strawberry jam?"

"I've known you for years, how would I not know?" Stacy replied.

"I suppose."

# Chapter 8

# 3 days later

"I didn't do anything wrong," John said. He sat on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands, his hair a ruffled mess. The television was on and his supper sat on the coffee table uneaten. In the room with John were Stacy, Chuck and a woman named Sara who was a friend of Chuck's and an atheist as well.

"Go turn yourself in, you'll feel better," Sara said with a mouthful of pasta. She hated everything the bigoted Christian Pastor John stood for.

"He can't, you know that," Chuck said. "They will string him up as soon as he's caught."

"Cool, I'd like to see a pastor get lynched. I wonder if they'd do it like the old days, from a tree in the church courtyard."

John piped up, "They won't lynch me, not after I explain myself."

"They have you on video being interrogated and then in the parking lot leaving the scene. The timing is very suspect. You might as well slit your own wrists," Sara replied with a smile. "I have a razor."

"Christians don't act like that."

"Like what?" Sara asked. "Like a bunch of psycho murderers? Have you heard of the inquisition?"

"I've heard of it but I don't know much about it. I do know it was the Catholic Church and I'm not Catholic, neither is our state church."

Chuck shook his head. "I still can't wrap my head around the fact I live in a country with a state church."

"You can leave anytime," John replied. "I don't know why you bothered to stay in the first place."

"Maybe I don't like getting ripped out of my home, the place where I was born and raised."

"Sorry to be the one to inform you but things have changed. You now live in the sovereign country of Biblandia where the church is in control. Like it should be."

"I have a feeling Biblandia won't be around for long. Once the U.S. government figures out how to disarm the nukes this little experiment will be over and you will all be tried like the Nazi's were."

John perked up when he heard the term Nazi used against him. "Don't go there, the Nazi's were led by an atheist. Josiah is a true Christian."

"I see it as a synonym."

"Fuck you," John snapped. "Jesus teaches love and acceptance."

"Yes he does, why doesn't your church?" Chuck asked.

Stacy added, "Chuck has a point. That little fucker did teach about love like the hippy he was."

"Since when did you become a bible expert?" John asked.

Stacy held up her phone and replied, "I have an app on my phone."

"You sure get a lot of messages for someone with no friends," John said.

"No shit, I got over fourteen hundred since lunch."

"Who are those people? Do you belong to some chat room?"

"You could call it that," Stacy replied.

"I never see you reply to anyone."

"Would you reply to fourteen hundred texts?" Stacy asked. "And that was in the last four hours."

"Why don't you leave the group?"

Stacy grinned. "Because it's entertaining as fuck. You wouldn't believe the shit these people ask for."

"Humor me," John asked.

"Oh give me this, give me that sort of shit. Always asking for favors."

"Why would they ask you for favors?"

"Because they think I'm some sort of fairy I guess. I didn't tell them to ask me anything."

"Weird," Chuck replied.

Sara stepped into the kitchen and set her plate in the sink. She poured herself some soda and stepped back into the living room. "So John, why did you kill all those people?"

"That's not funny," John replied.

"They were Christians, just like you. Did they piss you off?"

"If you don't shut the fuck up..."

"What? Are you going to treat me with Christian love and beat the shit out of me?" Sara asked. She mocked so well.

"You know what?" John asked. He was becoming manic. "I'm going to turn myself in. They will believe me and I will be vindicated."

"I give you a twenty percent chance," Sara replied. "A zero percent chance when I tell them you confessed to me."

John paused for a moment and looked at this woman like she was the devil. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you're a hypocrite and deserve to die."

"Hypocrite? How?"

"You stood there in that stadium and watched women burn to death. You watched homosexuals hung on crosses to your amusement and claim to be better than more moral than me because you're a pastor and because you're a Christian. You are the worst kind of devil and you know it. Just because other people's beliefs don't agree doesn't give you the right to murder."

"I didn't kill anyone."

"No, but you didn't do anything to stop it either. You are culpable," Sara barked. She was pissed and moving in close. "I want you to suffer the same as they did. If you had your chance you would turn me and Chuck in as atheist's and let them hang us as well. I don't know why Chuck has allowed you to stay in the first place. If it were up to me I would have kicked you out when you first showed up."

Stacy replied, "In Chuck's defense I did say that he would be more open minded than the Christians. Maybe that was my mistake."

"No, you're right, we are more open minded, but not so open minded our brains fall out," Sara replied. She stepped back and took a deep breath. "I say go, go turn yourself in."

John looked to Stacy for help. "Don't look at me, I don't trust those fuckers and you know it."

"I can't live on the run," John replied desponded.

"You can leave Biblandia, make it to America."

"The border is guarded, there is a twenty foot wall that surrounds the entire country."

Sara replied, "Thoughts and prayers."

"What is that supposed to mean?" John asked.

"That's what you say when someone is having problems. I see it on my phone news feed all the time. Thoughts and prayers."

"That is so condescending," John replied.

"I think so too but you Christians type it like you don't think what you're saying. I mean, how comforting is it to know that your fellow Christians are praying for you? Won't do you any good when you're hanging from the end of a rope."

"That's just the culture we live in. People like to hear when someone is thinking of them."

"Wouldn't it be better if they were actually doing something for them?" Sara replied. "Your religion is so vacant."

'I pray for you," John said smugly.

"Don't lie," Sara replied. "There's a church three blocks from here. St. Luke's Cathedral, it's one of those Gothic style mega churches that takes up an entire block, you'd love it. The reverend Josiah Aldridge is the leader."

"I know," John replied. "I've been there many times."

"So you've met him?"

"In passing, he's a very important man."

"I think they have bible study or some sort of worship almost every evening. I bet if you go down there you could talk to him," Sara said.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Chuck said. "Not unless you're ready to die."

"I can't go on like this and I'm not running away to America. I didn't do anything wrong and I need to face my accuser. I know who set the bomb."

"What?" Sara asked. "Who was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"You've been keeping this secret the whole time? Just tell me."

"You wouldn't know her anyway, there's no point."

"So it's a woman," Sara replied.

"It was a man who set the bomb, but it was at her request. I think she died in the blast."

"Do you know for sure?"

"No," John replied.

"So you have no alibi."

"They can talk to her family, they will tell her story."

"If I were them I'd blame it on you."

John hung his head and thought. "You're probably right. They were very angry to start with."

"What's the story?" Sara asked.

"This woman was the mother of a girl I got pregnant. Her name was Mary. Mary and I mutually broke up but she became pregnant. I had no idea. She had an abortion and the doctor's office was raided and he had records. Not of me but of her and they burned her alive for it. Her mother was so angry she had her son place a bomb on a gas tank."

"Where did she find an abortion clinic?"

"It was in the doctor's garage," John replied. "Of course it was illegal."

"How did the bomber get access to the gas tank?" Chuck asked.

"He worked for the gas company, it wasn't difficult," John replied.

"So you were caught trying to leave before the bomb went off and they detained you?"

"Yes."

"You could have done something to stop it, but instead let twelve thousand people burn to death?" Sara asked. "Good job Christian. They will hang you for that alone."

John began to tap his foot incessantly and shake with nerves; a hot flash ran up his spine. He didn't want to make a run for the border but realized that if he went to talk to the church authorities he might be held as a murdered by default for allowing the deaths. "What am I going to do?" John asked hanging his head. He rubbed his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

Sara folder her arms and stated, "I wouldn't want to be you."

"No shit!" John yelled spinning to face her. "Fucking shut your mouth! I've had it with you!"

"Hey I got enough Xanax if you want to end this now. In an hour your problems will be all over."

"Suicide is a sin," John growled, his teeth grinding together.

"So is allowing twelve thousand people to die. I don't see that you have much choice here."

"Leave me alone."

"The way you left your ex alone to burn to death?"

"You don't understand."

"I understand better than you think I do," Sara replied. "You made a lot of bad choices and it's time to pay up or run."

"This is not your house, you can leave anytime."

Sara looked to Chuck to gauge his reaction. He shrugged his shoulders and had no reply. "It's up to Chuck I guess. I have no dog in this fight."

"There was nothing I could do. Mary was doomed when they found her name at the abortion clinic. If I would have spoken up, and I did, it would have made no difference. Her fate was sealed."

"There is one other option," Stacy said. "You could come to my place."

"What?" John asked. He felt a glimmer of hope come over me. "Where do you live?"

"It's seventy miles from here, out in the county in a house on a hill."

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"Wouldn't have made a difference. And I like the shit show," Stacy replied.

"You like watching me freak out?"

"Yes, it's very entertaining."

Chuck added, "Are you sure you want to go with her? She treats you like shit."

"I know, but it will give me a chance to get my head on straight and figure out how to get out of this. I need time."

"You will need to find us transportation, I don't have a car and yours was impounded days ago," Stacy replied.

"How did you get here without a car?"

"I walked to town and took the bus," Stacy replied. "That leaves the rest of you."

"Don't look at me," Chuck said. "Take another bus."

"Do I look like I'm made of money?" Stacy asked.

"I can give you a ride if you can wait till tomorrow," Sara replied. "I'd rather have you out of here anyway."

"Thank you," Stacy replied.

"Finally," John said as he sat back down on the couch. He felt a rush of relief roll over him and he was able to stop tapping his foot. He hung his head down and mumbled some words as Stacy's phone lit up with more text messages.

She grinned and put the phone back in her pocket. "I can't forget my charger, make sure I take it with me."

# Chapter 9

# Custom leather seats

The conference room in St. Luke's Cathedral was huge. At least sixty feet long and thirty feet wide with a massive oak conference table in the center and walls filled to the brim with religious texts. The five chandelier's that lit the room from high above were adorned with fine crystal and on the walls priceless religious paintings were hung for all to see. This was no poor man's church, this was a church built on the backs of the parishioners.

The Reverend Josiah Aldridge sat at the end of the table smoking a pipe reading the financial reports while the church elders watched nervously waiting. There were twelve old men that sat around the table with laptop computers, pens and notebooks ready to engage in conversation as soon as Josiah was finished.

"God is good," Josiah stated, almost whispering.

"God is good," the elders replied in unison.

"I got a text today saying the leather seats I ordered for my jet would have to be backordered," Josiah stated. "They have to be imported from fucking China. I can't believe there's no place in this country that can make leather seats."

"How can you get the seats past the border wall?" Elder Specht asked. He was a man in his late seventies, thin grey hair with a noticeable hump on his back.

"I know people," Josiah replied, blowing smoke as he spoke.

"I'm sure you do," another elder spoke up. He was Elder O'Brian and he was not a timid man and much younger than elder Specht. "I don't care for your backward dealings to get what you want. We're supposed to be Christians."

"We are, that border wall was just as much American as it was us. Just because they're attempting to starve us out doesn't mean I have to sit back and take it. We're not committing a crime."

"Custom leather seats is a crime. You are squandering the church's funds for your own benefit. That money could be better used to serve the community."

"I am serving the community. There's no reason why we have to travel on the back of donkeys. The Lord provides so we can minister to our flock."

"If Jesus were here today he wouldn't recognize the church. Not the way he wanted it."

"He's here," Josiah replied. "He works through us, through scripture. We are his messengers and this messenger wants custom leather seats on his plane."

Elder O'Brian leaned back in his chair frustrated. He looked to the other elders who were too scared to speak up. "Why do we let him get away with this?" O'Brian asked.

No one spoke up. They kept their eyes on their computer screens and pretended they didn't hear anything.

"How much is that jet costing us? Every time you speak of it the price goes up."

"Eighty three million the last time I checked."

"Eighty three million," O'Brian repeated. "Please tell me again why you feel the need to purchase a jet? The country of Biblandia is only three states in size. It's not like you are traveling to California, or to Europe. And you do you know how much it costs to maintain a jet?"

"Do you?"

"I looked it up, it can be as much as a million dollars a year. We live in a coal mining state. We have some of the poorest people on the continent." Elder O'Brian used the term 'continent' because it was frowned upon to say the former United States.

"This is pointless to discuss, we voted months ago and the purchase was approved. You were the only dissenter. You can walk, or ride a donkey to meetings, just like Jesus did."

Elder O'Brian glared at Josiah with daggers in his eyes. "We spent fifty million on that stadium and someone blew it up. You're going to bankrupt this country."

"Impossible, we'll print more money," Josiah replied

"And send us into a recession. I think that's how Nazi Germany started."

"And now I'm a Nazi..." Josiah stated shaking his head with disgust.

"How are those concentration camps coming along?"

"You're treading on thin ice Elder O'Brian," Josiah said. His tone was threatening and low.

"You don't think I know what you're doing? Ten miles outside of town there's a construction crew working on one right now. Did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"Jews don't believe Jesus is the Christ. What do you propose we do with them if they won't convert? And be careful how you answer, everyone here is listening."

"Why? Are you trying to brand me as a heretic? Because I show the compassion Jesus preached about? I don't recall scripture teaching about burning Jews in ovens because they don't believe. Jesus was a Jew."

"If you don't like the way the church council is running things you are free to resign."

"You'd like that," O'Brian snapped back. "I seem to be the only one here with a back bone."

Josiah took a sip of his coffee and poked at his laptop. The room was silent except for the sounds of the fans in the laptops that kept them cool. "You're not married Elder are you?" Josiah asked.

"No, what does that have to do with this conversation?"

"I've been hearing rumors about you, some very disconcerting rumors."

"I hear rumors about you all the time, what are you getting at?"

"I heard that you spend a lot of your free time with one of our male parishioners. And you've been seen with him alone in your car at the edge of the park on many occasions."

"So?"

"There are rumors that he is a homosexual. We can't prove it, but there are signs."

"You do realize I'm a doctor. I can't discuss my contacts with this man."

"Are you saying he's a patient of yours?"

"I can't legally say either way," O'Brian replied.

"Are you treating him for his homosexuality? Working on a cure?"

O'Brian was silent.

"I don't think you're telling us the truth Elder. I wasn't planning on discussing this in front of the council but since you decided to accuse me of misappropriating church funds, I feel inclined to accuse you of being a homosexual. And you know what the church does with homosexuals."

"I was there, in the park. But rest assured, I'm not a homosexual."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Then can you explain this?" Josiah asked as he slid three full color eight by ten photos across the massive table to Elder O'Brian. Everyone who was between Josiah and O'Brian could see the image of O'Brian engaged in a kiss with a man in the front seat of his car.

Elder O'Brian picked up the photos and took a long hard look. "This is obviously been photo shopped."

"We have the original files off the camera, there is no photo shop manipulation. That is you and the parishioner engaged in sexual activity," Josiah replied with a grin. "That is your car is it not?"

"It is," O'Brian replied.

"Who are you kissing?"

O'Brian didn't have an answer and put the photos back onto the table top.

"I asked you a question."

"I refuse to answer," O'Brian replied.

"I thought so---call security," Josiah snapped as he slapped his hand on the oak table top like he just won a bet.

"Don't waste your time," O'Brian said pulling a pistol from his jacket pocket. He placed his elbows on the table and took aim at Josiah's face. "I knew this time would eventually come. I've been prepared for a long time."

"How did you get past the metal detectors?" Josiah asked.

"I know people, just like you," O'Brian said with a smile. "Not everyone who is a church member agrees with your ways. Not everyone thinks you need a private jet with custom leather seats to do the work of our Lord."

"You do realize if you shoot me you won't leave this church alive."

"Not necessarily, I have more friends here than you know. These so called elders that do your bidding, these 'yes men' may make you think you're invincible, but you're not. You were to be assassinated on stage prior to the hangings but the bomb interrupted the plan. If things had gone as right you wouldn't be here now and your jet would have been scratched."

"You lie, there was no plot to assassinate me."

"There was more than one sharp shooter with a rifle aimed at the stage. You had yours, we had ours."

"Maybe so...seems the Devil has infiltrated our ranks."

"I agree, and I'm looking at him right now you murdering fuck."

"If you hate me so much why don't you kill me?" Josiah asked.

"You don't deserve a quick death. A bullet is too good for you."

"I don't see that you have much of a choice. Do it or get out."

Standing just outside the door were six armed men dressed in riot gear ready to rush into the room. The door to the conference room was huge, made of heavy oak that would be difficult to open quickly so the men could enter. The rescue would be a tactical nightmare for the security outside. Josiah knew this realizing that his chances of coming out of this alive was slim. Maybe if he dove under the table it would give his men the chance to enter and take out Elder O'Brian.

Then Elder Specht stood up and walked over to the oak doors closed and locked them. He saw security peeking through the opening and wanted them to leave. The best he could do was lock the door.

"What are you doing?" Josiah asked.

"This is a conversation we should have had a long time ago. We don't need your thugs taking control."

"My thugs? Security is here to protect us all."

"Seems you get more security than most of us."

"Not so..."

"Shut the fuck up," Elder Specht barked back. "I agree with Elder O'Brian. I only wish I had the balls to bring in a gun like he did. Who knows what kind of dirt you were digging up on me, on all of us?"

"Mike, you know me, I would never do anything like that to you," Josiah pleaded.

"I don't know you at all," Elder Specht replied. "You have secret contacts to get what you want and act like you're smarter than the rest of us. You say you need this expensive airplane when you could do your work with a much less expensive alternative. I'm not a young man, I've seen your kind many times before and I'm sick of it. I only wish my fellow elders had the fortitude to stand up to you. Because of you twelve thousand people burned to death."

"No, you can't blame that on me. That was a church decision to hold the event. I wasn't even on the council when they decided to build the stadium."

"No, but the killings were your idea. The original plans were for concerts, and fellowship, not murder."

"Killing queers isn't murder. Killing women who had abortions isn't either. I was doing God's work," Josiah replied

"God's the judge, not you and you know that."

"I wasn't judging anyone. Scripture clearly says they are sinners. I just sent them to God sooner so He could punish them the way He wanted," Josiah replied.

"You're time as the leader of the church is over Josiah," Elder Specht stated.

"That would take a vote and you know that. I have the support of the council."

"Do you?"

Josiah looked around the table and saw faces looking away. He saw no support, just the barrel of the gun pointing in his face held by Elder O'Brian.

"Let's end this now," Specht said, "Those in favor of removing Josiah as our leader raise their hand."

All hands went up.

"This is illegal, you have to call for a special meeting, you just can't vote me out like this. I deserve the right to defend myself to the parishioners. We have bylaws!"

"The motion has passed," Elder Specht stated. "We will hold a special meeting to elect a temporary replacement until we can hold a proper election."

Josiah stood up and slammed the lid of his laptop down. Sweeping his arm across the room with his finger pointed he yelled, "You won't get away with this! I will be vindicated!"

Elder O'Brian popped off a shot and struck Josiah in the cheek just under his right eye. Not an instant mortal wound but a very bloody and painful one. Josiah stepped back and tripped over his chair and fell to the floor where he bled until he died. Nobody called the rescue squad or opened the door so security could get in.

"Cancel the jet," O'Brian said. "And the leather seats."

# Chapter 10

# Saving Jesus

Stacy stepped out of the SUV followed by Pastor John. The ride was long but far warmer than walking thanks to Sara who drove them the seventy five miles to her house on the hill. A mansion to be correct. John shut the door and Sara drove back down the long snow covered driveway back to the main highway.

John looked up the long walkway to the house and noticed that someone had shoveled the snow. "Did your husband clear your walk?" John asked.

"I'm not married," Stacy asked.

"Kids?"

"None."

"Then who shoveled your walk?"

"Angels from Heaven," Stacy replied.

"Do you ever answer anything seriously?"

"I'm dead serious," Stacy replied as she stepped up onto the curb.

"Thank God the wind died down, it's still freezing out here," John said ramming his hands into his jacket pocket.

"You're welcome," Stacy replied. She headed down the curbside walkway to the main steps that led uphill towards the house.

"You own this place?" John asked. "It's huge."

"Paid in full."

John noticed it was two stories, probably constructed in the nineteenth century with two massive chimneys and several side buildings and a barn. It was red brick with white columns supporting the roof that extended over the front door. There was a deck that surrounded the entire front of the building with a white rail. The windows were dark with white borders and the roof was cedar shakes. "This must cost a lot to keep heated in the winter, so you use propane? I don't see a tank."

"I have an excellent furnace, it's actually set up in the front hallway, past the front door. You'll see it as soon as we enter."

For as far as he could see, John saw pine trees in the distance poking out of the snow. The air was crisp and if he looked hard enough could see deer feeding off in the distance. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here, I will pay you back."

"It's not a problem, I don't get many guests."

"So what do you do for a living? I don't think working in a food court would pay your bills."

"I did that for something to do. I get so bored at those kinds of events."

At the top of the steps the snow trailed off under the roof and they both climbed up onto the deck. John waited for Stacy to open the door and kind of expected a servant to appear. The house was that nice. She opened the door and motioned for John to enter first. When he did he was shocked to hear screams and see a man strapped down to a chair set alight. His skin was bright red, his eyes glowed yellow and had rams horns jutting from the sides of his head. Flames consumed him but his flesh healed immediately and burned again.

"What the fuck!" John yelled over the screams as he tried to back out.

Stacy pushed him forward into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Over the screams she yelled, "This is David, he's my furnace."

John turned to Stacy and locked eyes. "Furnace? What the fuck? You're the Devil!"

"No John, you have that backwards, he's a devil, or should I say a demon."

John peered at the man who was roasting like a flaming pig over a hot bed of coals. He looked familiar, with the long dark hair that didn't burn and his two day beard and glasses. Then it came over him, it was David Koresh---strapped to a chair burning and screaming. Immediately John put two and two together, the red skin, the glowing yellow eyes, and the horns.

"Yes, the woman who interrogated us back at the stadium was a demon as well. Her true appearance came through because I was there."

"How did she not know?"

"I'm God, I didn't want her to know."

Koresh screamed nonstop and it was difficult to converse over the noise. No matter how long Koresh sat there tied to the chair the intensity did not let up as he burned, healed and gave off a concentrated heat that reddened John's skin from twenty feet away.

"Let's go into the living room," Stacy stated opening a side door.

John stepped through the door and Stacy closed it behind them. The sound stopped but John knew Koresh was still burning on the other side. "Why? What's going on?"

"Would you like something to drink?" Stacy asked. "I have a lot of different wines. Sort of a hobby of mine."

"Give me a chance to take this all in. It's not every day I meet God and see the immortal body of David Koresh burning in a hallway."

"It gets better," Stacy said with a smile.

"How? And why him?"

"He's on display in my Messiah Museum."

"What the fuck is a 'Messiah Museum?"

"Think of all the people who have claimed to be me over the years, I have them all here on display."

"Like who?"

"Charles Manson for example, I have him stuck with forks tied up to a chair. I also have Marshall Applewhite, that sick fuck from the Heaven's Gate cult boiling in acid and I have the Reverend Jim Jones perpetually drowning in Kool-Aid. I try to display them the way they died but that doesn't always work. Manson died of old age, hard to make a display out of that."

"How many others do you have on display?"

"One hundred and seventy two right now, I will probably add another next month," Stacy added.

"Who else do you have?"

"There are a lot you've never heard of but there are a few I'm proud of."

"You act like a hunter with an animal collection mounted on the wall," John stated.

"I like that analogy. I can see that, but none of mine are dead."

"David Koresh burned to death in Waco. They found his remains."

"If there's one thing you should have learned from your bible John it's that I can raise the dead. It's one of my best tricks."

"But torture is the Devils domain."

"You got that backwards too, you need to read your bible a bit closer. I do all the cool shit in there. Who do you think sent the flood? Who do you think killed all the first born sons? Who asked Abraham to kill his child? It wasn't Lucifer, it was me. He was off having fun."

"You talk like your friends with him."

"At one time he was my favorite angel. Then he had to get so prideful and ruin everything." Stacy replied. Her phone buzzed and she looked at the screen. "Looks like a train accident in Ohio."

John looked at his phone and didn't see any news alerts. "I don't see anything."

"Prayers."

"What do you mean?"

"When people pray I get it on my phone. Thousands an hour. I just got a spike because of the train wreck."

"That's awesome, what are you going to do?" John asked.

"The same as I ever do---nothing," Stacy replied.

"Nothing? You have to do something, they're praying for help."

"John, I don't give a shit about any of these people. I knew that train was going to wreck when I created the universe. If I wanted it to not wreck I would have done something about it a long time ago."

"You wanted it to wreck?"

"Not really, I would say I'm more indifferent."

"But..."

"Honestly, people don't worship me enough for me to give a shit. An hour a week on Sunday? What a fucking joke. I spent six days of my life making this place and all I get is an hour."

"Excuse me for saying so, but you sound like a child. Not my Lord and savior."

"I didn't have parents to teach me any better."

"But you're perfect."

"Says who?"

"Matthew," John replied.

"Give me a break, that was written by a scribe, plus that's New Testament bullshit."

"I don't understand."

"Remember when I said my museum contained people who claimed to be me? I have something to show you. This will blow your fucking mind," Stacy replied. She motioned for John to follow her across the living room to a side door. She opened the door to a long hallway with an endless row of doors on both sides. "Follow me," she said and led John down the hallway. Ten doors down and to the right she stopped. "I should get a camera so I can record your reaction, but then I already know what it will be. But it would be fun."

"Let's get on with this," John stated.

Stacy looked John in the eye as she opened the door and led him inside. The room was a basketball court gym and hanging on the far wall, with a single light beaming down from above was Jesus Christ, still hanging from a cross thirty feet above the ground. "He's my trophy," she added beaming with pride.

"That can't be, is he dead?"

"No, he's very much alive and has been hanging there for over two thousand years."

John stepped in closer. He was a good fifty feet away and could easily make out the crown of thorns and the blood that had dried on his skin.

"Go on over, take a look," Stacy replied.

The closer John got to Jesus the more his heart raced. He looked up into the vacant eyes of his savior and only saw shadows cast from the light above. "Jesus!" John called out.

"Yeshua," Stacy said aloud correcting him.

Realizing his mistake John called out again but this time used the correct name for Jesus. "Yeshua!"

Jesus raised his head just enough to be noticed and his eyes opened. It was dark but the light reflected from his arms lit up the whites of his eyes.

"I can't speak Aramaic, can you help me?" John asked Stacy.

"Sure, speak to him."

"Jesus, is that you?

There was no response, just a dim stare.

"I don't think he can hear me, can you bring him down?"

"I like him up there. Maybe he doesn't have anything to say."

"You'd know, you know everything."

"Most everything, you're finally catching on."

"Tell me, will you set him free?"

"No."

John stood dumbfounded. He wanted nothing more than to save Jesus but didn't know how. "He's your son, the son of God, how can you treat him like this?"

"Actually---that's not correct."

"What do you mean, he's not your son?"

"Do you actually think I would have a human child?"

"That's what scripture says," John replied.

"Do you know how absurd that sounds? Let me ask you a question. Do you recall why Lucifer was cast from heaven?"

John had to think. "It was something about pride, right?"

"Sort of, scripture reads, 'Your heart became proud, on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. So I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you before kings.' Sound familiar?"

"Yes, what are you saying?" John asked.

"Lucifer wanted to be me, he was my most beautiful creation and when wickedness was found in him I cast him from heaven. Who do you think this clown is hanging in my basketball court?"

"Huh?" John asked. He looked up to Jesus and shook his head. "Are you saying this is Lucifer?"

"Did he not claim to be God? Did he not claim to be me? Did he not try to be me?" Stacy asked.

"Well, I suppose you could..."

"There is no suppose, read your bible, it clearly states, John 10:30, 'I and the Father are one.' And John 13:13, 'You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am.' This charlatan went around ancient Judea claiming to be me in an attempt to be me. Lucifer just branded himself as Jesus, and look what happened, his plan almost worked. If he hadn't pissed off Caiaphas challenging his authority he might have made it. I don't have a son, never had, never will."

"The bible teaches..."

"The bible teaches nothing. It's mostly fiction, like a docudrama on the History channel. Makes for a good film but nothing more. This man you call my son that claimed to be my son is Lucifer in disguise, nothing more." Stacy's phone buzzed again. She looked at the screen and scratched her head.

"Now what? Another train wreck?"

"No, terminal cancer patient prayer chain. I get those all the time. So fucking annoying."

"Why don't you do something!? You are in all places at all times, you are the perfect one."

"Still not sure about that, there are plenty of things I can't get right. Look at the recurrent laryngeal nerve, especially in giraffes, I really fucked that one up bad. And don't quote the bible again, that was written by goat herders who didn't know shit about anything Maybe pick up a science book once and a while."

"Science is of the Devil," John replied.

"Nope, got that one wrong too."

"I don't understand."

"I'm sure this is all a shock to you, but rest assured, Jesus, I mean Lucifer isn't going anywhere and if you don't like it you can get the fuck out. You know where the front door is."

"I will take his place."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Well?"

"I like my trophy where he is. If you want to join him tell me you're me and I'll make a room just for you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"I told you there were more coming, and my house has many rooms."

# Chapter 11

# Whipping post

Stacy and John sat three rows up and on the far right side of the balcony at the back of St. Luke's Cathedral; they were attending the Reverend Josiah Aldridge's funeral. The balcony was divided into a right and left section, was ten rows deep from top to bottom and twenty five feet from the floor below. The seats were old cherry wood with rust colored metal brackets and hardware that was original to its nineteenth century construction.

The church was packed with parishioners who drew lots for seats to the funeral with the overflow standing outside in the cold street watching the event on big screen televisions brought in for the occasion. Inside the church the stained glass windows lit up various scenes from the life of Jesus including his birth and tragic death. The colors were pretty Stacy thought as she studied them and the workmanship to create them was impressive for the time.

"Tell me again why you dragged me here?" John asked Stacy.

"I can't, it would ruin the story."

"What do you mean?"

"If I tell you everything that's going to happen before it does then we have no story. That's the problem with an omniscient being, I know everything there is to know, including the future, and it ruins the story."

"But it's biblical,"

"Not exactly, pick up one of those bibles," Stacy said pointing to a bible sitting in the rack before them. "Turn to Genesis 3:8 and 9 and read my lines."

"Your lines?" John asked. "That's what you call your word?"

"Just read my fucking lines," Stacy snapped.

John flipped through the bible and found the chapter and verse. "8 Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9 But the Lord God called to the man, 'Where are you?"

"See that part there, where I asked, 'Where are you?' No omniscient would ask that question, they, I mean I would already know. According to the bible I don't know everything. And that happens all over in that book."

"Weird," John replied. Almost in a daze. "Give me one more."

"Genesis 3:11, '11 and he said, 'Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?' See, why would I ask a question? I am supposed to know everything."

"Maybe it was just for conversations sake, don't take everything so literally."

"Its literature---of course I'm taking it literally. I was fucking there."

"Then how can you be God?"

"You ask me? It's right there in black and white."

John closed the bible and put it back in the rack. "Fine, you aren't perfect, now why did you drag me here?"

"Well, in this case I do have some privileged information. I think you will be in for a real treat."

"Uh huh," John replied. He was annoyed with God.

"Look, they're getting ready for the funeral ceremony," Stacy said. She seemed exited and a bit giddy.

Down below on the main church floor the casket containing the Reverend Josiah was being carried to the Alter by six black slaves. Since the county of Biblandia was established slavery was reinstated and any black man or woman that could be held captive could be claimed as property. In this case the six black men were former property of the Josiah and now the property of his wife Angela. As long as the owner could feed and maintain the slaves they were perpetual property and could be bought and sold on the open market. All of the slave's prior ownings and property became that of the new owner. The only condition for slave ownership was they had to be Christians in good standing, the only condition for being a slave was the color of their skin.

"What am I looking at?" John asked.

"Wait for it," Stacy replied.

Then a voice called over the speakers. At the pulpit was another preacher, the Reverend Charles Cane, called in to replace Josiah when he was murdered in chambers. "All arise," the new preacher called out with his arms raised.

Everyone below John and Stacy stood up. Everyone around them did as well so they stood up. The sound of bodies standing carried throughout the huge space and bounced off the walls.

The six slaves carried Josiah's casket up to the Alter, set it on a rolling stand and then took seats to the sides in spaces set aside for them. The casket was adorned with plants, flowers, cards and all sorts of trinkets set on top by his faithful followers. It was a shrine suitable for a megalomaniac.

"We gather here today to pay our respects to our friend, our companion and our former leader Josiah Aldridge taken too soon from this Earth to live with our heavenly father."

John poked Stacy in the ribs and whispered, "If they only knew."

"But before we celebrate the life of Josiah and all he brought forth for our church family, I want to share with you some very good news," Charles Cane stated with a smile on his face. "The police have identified and caught the man responsible for the bomb that killed so many of our fellow parishioners. He was held up in his house and after a brief gun battle was taken into custody." Above the Reverend Cane on a large screen placed neatly above and to the left of the Alter the image of a black man appeared. He was bloody and beaten but very much alive. "This is the man who murdered over twenty thousand of us. His name is Theodore Findel and he is here with us today."

From the side of the Alter though a side door two security officers shoved Theodore out into view of the parishioners, he was bound in chains and resisting. He was dressed in a cream colored linen wrap that covered him from his abdomen to his knees soaked and splattered in blood and his face was beaten and his brow was swollen. His left eye was puffy and closed and his teeth were stained red.

"This is the man we had been searching for and today he will pay for what he did."

The security officers bound Theodore to the Alter with the chains affixed to his wrists and placed the prisoner facing the thirty foot crucifix of Jesus that was hung on the Alter wall. The crucifix was hung to the right of the big screen television broadcasting the events for everyone to see.

Cane pulled a whip from behind the pulpit and walked down the steps positioning himself between Theodore and Josiah's casket. The parishioners tried to keep quiet but the excitement overcame them when the whispers became shouts of glee.

"What the fuck is this?" John asked. "Anne's brother is white."

"They don't give a shit, they just want to whip someone to death. You know how this works, find a scape goat and blame the black guy," Stacy replied.

"Are you going to let this happen?"

"Free will," Stacy replied.

"You do realize that if you know what's going to happen that free will isn't real."

"Don't ruin the story, like I said, free will."

"So you're going to let this happen." John stated. He was no longer asking questions.

"I have five thousand people an hour begging me for shit and you think I'm going to waste my time with this?"

"They're going to murder an innocent man!"

"That happens a thousand times a day, get real."

"You are one pathetic piece of shit, you know that? You're supposed to be omnipresent."

"You like your fancy words don't you?"

"You can answer all those prayers if you really wanted to, right?" John asked.

"Yeah, maybe," Stacy replied.

"Then why don't you?"

"I created Satan, explain that and I'll explain why I'd rather watch Friends than do what I'm supposed to do."

"What kind of God are you?"

"I'm the best one you got right now," Stacy replied. "Shut up and watch the show."

"Do you want me to get you popcorn?"

Stacy ignored John and watched the new pastor beat Theodore to the fervent applause of the parishioners.

"What proof does he even have that this guy did what they're accusing him of?"

Just then a hand tapped John on the shoulder from behind and a soft voice called out. "You might want to watch your mouth."

John spun his head around to see a silver headed older gentlemen looking down at him with his fake teeth and denture cream breath. The man was slowly shaking his head from side to side wagging his index finger in a condemning way.

"Let's get out of here," John said.

"Don't let that old fuck bother you," Stacy replied. Her eyes glued to the action below. "They do realize they're going to have to remove the blood stains from the carpet." Stacy stated.

"You tell me," John replied. "Oh I forgot, you're the _fallible_ God, You don't know shit."

John felt another tap on his shoulder and spun around to face the old man. "What the fuck do you want?" John snapped at the older man. "Leave me the fuck alone."

"You're words are going to get you in trouble young man, I'm doing you a favor. You need to stop referring to your girlfriend as our 'Lord'."

"Maybe she is, you ever stop to think of that?"

"Are you saying our Father is a female? That's blasphemy."

"You know what? I've about had it with your shit, let's get out of here," John snapped. He tugged on Stacy's shirt to get her to stand up.

"Wait a fucking minute, he's almost done," Stacy barked back.

John didn't know what to do, he was getting the third degree from some old fuck sitting behind him and being ignored by God. "Fine, I'm leaving," John barked and stepped around the lady next to him.

"Fine," Stacy replied and stood up. "You're such a fucking baby." As Stacy stepped in front of the older gentlemen she looked him in the eye and said, "You've got ten minutes, I hope you enjoy them," and took off after John.

Together John and Stacy made their way out of the balcony, to the stairs and down to the main floor narthex when a question popped into John's head. "I have a question," John asked getting Stacy's attention.

"Ever since I told you who I was you've been nonstop with the questions---now what?" Stacy asked. "And don't think we're leaving yet, I have one last thing I want to do before we go."

"That's fine," John asked making sure no one was within ear shot. "In Genesis it states that God first created man and set him forth into the Garden of Eden. Then God---you, thought he needed a helper of some sort and set out to find him one. After a bit you put Adam to sleep, pulled out a rib and created the first woman---Eve. Is that correct?" John asked.

"Pretty much," Stacy replied.

"Can you explain something to me?"

"I'll try."

"Now don't take this the wrong way, but I don't understand how you could have made a man without making a woman at the same time."

"What do you mean?"

"Ok, I'm not sure how to say this but what does a man have that sets him apart from a woman?" John asked.

"That's a loaded question."

"I'm being serious here, if you made Adam a man he must have come with some stuff..."

"You mean a penis?" Stacy asked.

"Yes, that would be a good way to put it, and some other stuff."

"So what's your point?" Stacy asked.

"Think about it, why would you create a being with a reproductive package without creating another being to use it on?"

"I did," Stacy replied. Annoyed.

"Not at first."

"Huh?"

"Adam's junk would be worthless without a female, and according to the Genesis story Eve was an afterthought. She was only created after you thought he needed a helper comparable to him. Do you see where I' going with this?"

"No."

"Why give Adam a penis and balls if there was no Eve. I mean at first. It sounds like made a mistake."

"What? Me? A mistake?" Stacy asked. "How dare you..."

"Now don't get your panties in a wad, wouldn't it of made more sense to have created Adam as a eunuch instead? You know, a being with no sex?"

"That's not what a eunuch is."

"You know what I mean though."

"I guess I do, but I still don't know where you're going with this," Stacy said.

"If you made a being with sex organs without the intentions of making another being with the opposite sex organs it doesn't make sense. Why make a man when you could just as easily made a being with no sex and called it Pat?'

"Then when I made the next 'Pat' as you call it they wouldn't be able to make babies."

"But..."

"Now what?" Stacy asked. She was more annoyed.

"But Adam and Eve weren't going to have kids until after they ate the forbidden fruit. Genesis says something about 'In pain you shall bring forth children.' Up until then why have sperm and eggs? What was the point?"

"So you're saying I gave them the ability to reproduce without the need to reproduce and then after they sinned commanded them to have children?"

"Yes, you got it."

"That makes no sense," Stacy replied.

"Exactly, why did you do it that way?"

Stacy scratched her head and thought for a moment. "I don't know, I was new at this."

"How can you not know?" John asked.

"I told you, I'm only semi perfect. A perfect being would make a lousy character in a story."

"Like the bible?" John asked.

"Follow me," Stacy said ignoring the question. She pushed the huge doors to the main church floor and stepped inside with John. By now the Pastor Cane was done beating Theodore Findel to death and had returned to his lectern splattered with blood. From this angle both John and Stacy could see the casket of the Reverend Josiah at the far end of the nave parked in front of the Alter. On both sides of the isle were rows upon rows of parishioners sitting waiting for the pastor to speak.

"Please get out your hymnals and turn to page three thirteen," Pastor Cane stated. Then the organ started playing and everyone stood up.

Stacy motioned for John to lean over so she could whisper in his ear. He leaned over and she said, "You want to see a cool trick?"

John nervously nodded and replied, "Be careful, there's a lot of freaks in here."

Stacy snapped her fingers and the lid to the coffin moved just enough to knock all the flowers and trinkets onto the floor with a clank and a crash. Water spilled on the carpet and vases broke into bits and pieces. The parishioners took notice and most of them stopped singing. Then the organ stopped altogether.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Jesus didn't raise anyone from the dead, but I can," Stacy replied with a smile.

Then the lid to the coffin opened and the Reverend Josiah Aldridge sat up to the amazement and horror of everyone watching. The cameras focused on his face and his image glared from the big screen monitor next to the crucifix mounted on the Alter.

People screamed and many ran from the pews towards the exits. Stacy laughed and stepped to the side so she wouldn't get ran over when the crowd headed out the main door. John stepped over and stood beside her with his back against the wall. He noticed right away he was standing next to a statue of Mary with Jesus in his arms. Odd since Jesus supposedly arose from the dead. That was alright, but not if Josiah did the same?

# Chapter 12

# Holy Air Raid

No one knew the Vatican had an air force until sirens wailed and bombs began to drop all over town. The convicted child molesting Catholic priests had been housed in a make shift prison camp ever since the stadium was set ablaze and now the Pope was going to rescue all one hundred and fifty of them. The executions were rescheduled for Easter but the Pontiff would have none of that. In a desperate attempt to rescue the priests the Holy Father sent in his Holy paratroopers, bombers and fighter jets.

As the crowd exited the cathedral the screams of jet engines could be heard from above as they zipped by at three hundred miles an hour overhead. Painted atop the Lockheed C-130 Hercules troop transport planes was the image of the crucified Jesus with his arms stretched out on top of the wings and his body painted from his head to his feet on the fuselage from the cockpit to the tail. One the side of the enormous transport plane was a red crucifix with the national emblem of the Vatican and inside each of the six planes were thirty paratrooper priests ready to exit the plane on que over the encampment. Each Holy soldier was ready to free their imprisoned brethren brandishing AR-15 rifles, grenades and other various explosives.

In all directions, the sounds of explosions filled the air and smoke drifted filling the sky above poisoning the air. People ran to their vehicles and scattered from the cathedral in an attempt to save their lives. John was scared to death and pulled Stacy out into the cold air to see what was going on.

"Did you know this was coming?" John asked.

"If I did do you think I'd be here?" Stacy replied.

"We got to get the fuck out of here," John snapped. "Where is the safest place to go?"

"Probably a basement," Stacy replied. She wasn't nervous, she was God and no bomb would hurt her.

"I bet the cathedral has a basement," John said.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you," Stacy replied. "It would be a first target and I'm sure it won't be here long."

"Then where?"

"Follow me," Stacy replied. She led John down the sidewalk away from the church towards a residential area. The streets they walked passed were lined with empty parked cars and the trees that would normally block the icy wind stood naked without leaves. On their way towards safety they walked past a coffee shop and Stacy stumbled, bent over and pulled her hands to her chest in pain.

John took notice and asked, "Are you alright?"

Stacy couldn't catch her breath and she began to take on a blue hue. It was like she was having an asthma attack. "Get me out...of here," she managed to say gasping for air.

"Out of where?"

Stacy pointed to the coffee shop and then motioned for John to help her walk away. He took her by the arm and pulled her along the sidewalk helping her keep her balance and moving her further away from the business. John struggled to get her down the walkway but with every step her breathing improved and her color returned to normal. "I'm alright now," Stacy said drawing John's arm from hers. She stood upright, took a deep breath and sighed.

"What was that all about?" John asked.

"Atheist's" Stacy replied. "Lots of them. Like rats in a sewer.

"I don't get it."

"That must be an atheist safe house, when I get around a bunch of them it affects me."

"Why would atheists bother you? I'm sure you're around them all the time."

"A few yes, but not like this. There must be twenty or more in there. Without belief, I don't exist. If it weren't for you I could have vanished until another believer came along."

"Are you serious? Are you saying you are nothing more than a construct of believers? How does that make you God?"

More jets screamed overhead firing missiles off into the downtown section of town. Explosions ripped apart offices and retail stores, fires raged and smoke and debris filled the air.

"Do you really want to discuss this now?" Stacy asked.

"No, let's go," John replied and they both took off down the sidewalk heading out of the business district. It would be difficult to find a basement downtown but most homes had one, it was just a matter of finding someone who would let them inside.

"Wait a second," Stacy said and they both stopped walking. "We can get your car now."

"It's impounded," John replied.

"That's because they were looking for you because they thought you blew up the stadium. Theodore Findel paid the price for that. You're off the hook."

John thought for a second. "Dang, you're right."

"We just need to get to the police station."

The cold wind whipped a few flakes of snow around as John looked at his phone for directions. He tapped and tapped and finally came up with the location. "It's twelve blocks from here. In the wrong direction."

"I'd rather ride than walk." Stacy said.

"I don't think anyone would be there when we got there to help us. We are being bombed right now," John said.

"You're probably right,"

"God damned I'm right," John replied with a grin. "Do you have any idea who's attacking us?"

"Yes, the fucking Pope," Stacy replied. "Pope Abatantuono III and his minions"

"Why in the hell would the Pope be attacking the city?" Then John thought for a second. "Oh, the compound."

"Yes, they're here to free the priests. And maybe get a little revenge along the way," Stacy replied. She looked up to the sky and scanned for planes. She could hear a few off in the distance that had passed them over and then saw a group of three jets a few miles away heading in their direction. They seemed to be in some sort of formation but their target wasn't obvious. At their speed they would be on top of them in less than a minute. "We need to get out of the street," Stacy said pulling on John's shirt sleeve. "I'm not worried about me, but you might worry about yourself."

"You know what's going to happen, stop it," John replied.

"Free will, don't forget free will."

"Its only free will if you don't know what's going to happen, we've gone over this."

"This will make a lousy story if you don't come with me, now shut up."

John stared up at the three jets as their engine sounds grew louder and they became larger in his view. "Are you the same God that parted the Red Sea?"

"You don't have time for this, let's go," Stacy replied.

"Snap your fingers and make them go away."

Stacy stopped in her tracks and thought for a second. "Why don't I wiggle my nose like that witch on television?"

"Either way," John replied.

Annoyed at John's childish request, Stacy blew the engine on the lead jet with a puff of black smoke and a popping sound. The jet veered right to left and spun around like a sideways top. The other two jets took off in separate directions to avoid contact with the lead plane.

"There you go," John said with a smile that turned to horror when he realized the lead jet was still heading towards them only it was losing altitude and heading right towards them. "Stacy, Stacy!" John yelled as he hit the ground in a vain attempt to avoid being crashed into. Then he realized the plane missed them, flew overhead and crashed in the Cathedral parking lot. But before the plane crashed there was an explosion overhead and John looked up to see a man floating down on a parachute. The explosion John realized was the sound of the pilot ejecting from the plane at the last second.

"Look," John said pointing to the pilot.

Stacy watched the pilot land and then fall to the ground rolling his body to lessen the impact like a trained professional. She noticed he was dressed in a pure white flight suit and helmet with a crucifix painted on the back with a black face shield. When the pilot regained his balance, he stood up, unbuckled his parachute and took out a pistol from a pocket in the right leg of his pants. When he saw John and Stacy he ran over brandishing his pistol motioning for them to raise their arms. Both John and Stacy complied.

"Who the fuck are you?" John asked watching the parachute billow in the cold wind behind the man with the gun.

The pilot raised his blast shield and looked John in the eye. In a thick Italian accent the man replied, "Pope Abatantuono III."

"Wha?" John replied. He was sure he misheard the man. "Are you saying you're the Pope?"

"Sì, I mean yes," the Pope replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Pastor John and this is my friend Stacy," John replied. "Why are you flying a fighter jet? Don't you have people that do that shit for you?"

"Are you questioning the infallibility of the Pope?" the Pope asked waving his gun.

"I thought you were only infallible in matters of the faith?" Stacy asked.

"Oh, but you are wrong Miss Stacy. The Pope knows all."

Stacy thought it odd that the man who claimed to know all didn't know she was God. "So what's your plan now Oh Pontiff?" Stacy asked sarcastically.

"I intend to free our brethren and return them to Vatican City."

"That's going to be difficult for you without a plane, don't cha think?" Stacy asked.

"The Lord will provide me transportation," the Pope replied. "I will return safely."

John looked at Stacy and shook his head. "I prayed for a car and the Lord told me to go find a basement to hide in. I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"Only an imbecile would pray for a car," the Pope replied. "You must pray to save the lives of our holy fathers who are being held as prisoners in this God forsaken wretched so called country of yours."

"I have a question?" John asked. "How did you manage to get here? Didn't the US try to stop you?'

"Your new country of Biblandia borders on the ocean, and we are the Catholic Church, do you think the US would stop us?"

"Well?" John asked.

"No you stupid moron, they let us in no problem. We are the Catholic Church and I am the Pope Abatantuono III."

"Maybe if you wait a bit and pray on it, the US will stop over and give you a ride to the compound," John joked.

"By now our bothers are being loaded onto transports and will be soon delivered back to the Holy land. We are a well-trained force of Holy soldiers."

"Looks to me like you're still stuck here," Stacy said.

"Not for long," the Pope replied. He pulled a radio out from his suit and spoke Italian into the microphone. After a brief conversation he placed the mic back into his pocket and waved his gun around some more. "I need shelter, for a short while."

John replied "I think there's a day care down the street."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Pope asked. He was pissed.

"I thought maybe you'd want to hang out with some little boys while you wait."

"Is that some sort of joke? Do you think you're funny? Not all of us called to faith are perverts."

"Why are you bothering to rescue all those convicted child molesters if you think they're 'perverts?'" John asked.

"We plan to change their evil ways, or at least hide them," the Pope replied.

"Oh no, I don't think so," Stacy replied. "You're not going to allow them to keep molesting kids. Not on my watch." She was pissed.

"Who are you to stop me young lady?" the Pope asked.

"I'm you worst fucking nightmare," Stacy replied. "You need to come with us, nobody's going to pick you up."

"What do you mean?" the Pope asked. Then his radio caught fire and smoke poured from his flight suit. In a panic the Pope ripped the radio and location beacon from his pocket and threw it on the ground. "What kind of demon magic is this?" the Pope asked.

"That is very insulting," Stacy said flat. "If you want to see demon magic, watch this."

Before John and Stacy's eyes, the pope's skin color began to change from pink to dark red and horns protrude from his temples. Then his eyes began to glow yellow. "Holy fuck," John said. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything but remove the demon spell he was using to hide his true self. Plus with the horns the helmet wouldn't fit."

The pope knew his true identity was open for everyone to see. He shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands as if defeated. "Looks like you got me," the Pope said. "But who are you to remove my spell? I would think that only a high ranking angel or God himself could to this to me? Are you an angel?" the Pope asked John.

Stacy replied, "Yes, he is."

John looked to Stacy and saw her wink. "Yeah, I guess I am," John replied.

# Chapter 13

# Second Coming

The Reverend Josiah Aldridge flopped out of his coffin and crashed on the floor of the church with a thud. His mortuary make up smeared on his jacket lapel and on the carpet. By now most of the parishioners had left the Cathedral only to be met by jet airplanes and bombs exploding all around them outside. A few people surrounded Josiah including the Reverend Cane, a surgeon from St. Peter's hospital named Dr. Allen Moore and a licensed practical nurse named Rhonda Sacks.

"Are you alright?" Rhonda asked. She knelt down and tried to take Josiah's pulse at his wrist.

"Where am I?" Josiah asked. He was dizzy and a bit bewildered. He knew he was in the Cathedral, but didn't know why he was on the floor.

"You're in St. Luke's," Rhonda replied.

"I know I'm in St. Luke's," Josiah snapped back. "Why am I on the floor? And what is this shit all over my face?" he added rubbing the make up onto his fingers. The he found the hole in his face that was stitched up and covered with stage make up tape.

Dr. Moore knelt down and lifted Josiah's eyelid to check his pupil. Josiah allowed the doctor and sat patiently. "Do you have any pain?" Dr. Moore asked.

Josiah had to think for a second. "Yes, my right wrist, I must have bent it backwards when I hit the ground."

"Anything else?"

"I have a dull ache in my cheek and a hole in my face. Why do I have a hole in my face?" Then Josiah remembered being shot back in the conference room by Elder O'Brian. "That son of a bitch, where is he?"

"Who are you talking about?" Cane asked.

"O'Brian. I'm going to kill him," Josiah replied.

"He's long gone, along with most of the parishioners. We're under attack," Cane replied.

Josiah could hear the dull sounds of explosions outside the Cathedral and the muffled sounds of jet planes flying by over the roof. "By whom?" Josiah asked.

"The fucking Catholic Church, that's who," Cane replied. "It's all over the news. They're trying to rescue the priests at the encampment. And from what I hear they may have succeeded. I think the bigger question is you?"

Josiah looked up at the coffin he fell out of and back to Cane. "What was I doing in that coffin?"

"Josiah---this was your funeral," Cane replied being as sensitive as he could muster.

Josiah looked to the doctor. "Is this true? Am I dead?"

"Not anymore," Dr. Moore replied.

"What do you mean, 'Not anymore?"

"You've been dead for three days, I pronounced you myself."

Looking at his watch, Josiah noticed at the date. "This is Wednesday?"

"Yep," Cane replied. "The church meeting was Monday. That's when..."

"I know, O'Brian shot me," Josiah interrupted. "So I've been raised from the dead after three days? Like Jesus?"

"I guess so," Cane replied.

"Jesus Christ and I were both murdered because of fear, and were raised on the third day. Do you see what I see?" Josiah asked.

Nobody knew what he was talking about.

"I am Jesus Christ, I have come back to judge the living and the dead."

"Whoa, I wouldn't go that far," Cane replied.

"Do you doubt my divinity?"

Cane was now silent. Just in case Josiah was right he didn't want to piss off Jesus.

"Help me up," Josiah said and held out his arms. The nurse and Dr. Moore assisted Josiah to a standing position and stepped back.

"Do you doubt me, like Thomas did?" Josiah asked Cane. "Reach out your hand and put it into my face. Stop doubting and believe."

Cane reached out his hand and placed his finger into the hole in Josiah's face. It was soft, wet and squishy.

"Do you believe now?"

"Yes," Cane replied. But he still wasn't one hundred percent convinced.

"Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed," Josiah stated remembering the line from the bible.

Then a bomb exploded outside the front door that rattled the statues and blasted stained glass everywhere.

"They're targeting the cathedral," Josiah stated. "Those heathen bloodthirsty Catholics."

"They got what they wanted, why don't they leave?" Cane asked.

"They won't be satisfied until this St. Luke's is a burning heap of rubble," Josiah replied.

The nurse spoke up, "You can save us, you are our Lord. You saved the Israelites from the Pharaoh, you can save us as well!"

Josiah looked around for a wooden staff and couldn't find one so he settled for a four foot tall alter candle and held it up with both hands looking to the roof of the building. Like Charlton Heston from the _Ten Commandments,_ Josiah grasped the candle in his right hand and held it out to his right as his empty left hand did the same to the left. "Behold his mighty hands," Josiah commanded expecting the bombing to stop. But it didn't, it actually got worse. Much worse.

"What's wrong oh exalted one?" Cane asked.

"Maybe He didn't hear you," Rhonda yelled. "Say it again!"

Frustrated, Josiah again called, "Behold..." but before he could finish his command the roof over the alter fell in just missing all four of them. Encased in dust and smoke the four ran towards the main doors in order to escape the debris that was flying through the air in all directions. A cold wind blew in from above and the Alter caught fire.

"Lord, save us!" Rhonda screamed as they reached the huge oak doors at the Narthex.

"I'm trying," Josiah replied. He was winded and short of breath.

"Where did the doctor go?" Rhonda asked.

Josiah turned to see a huge pile of burning rubble and no doctor. "We must save ourselves, out the front door. Quickly!" he stated.

Cane, Rhonda and Josiah pushed their way out the front door, down the steps and into the street. There was no one around but them except a group of three people heading their way, one dressed in all white with a very red scalp and horns.

"Over there!" Rhonda exclaimed. "Maybe they can help us."

"I agree," Cane stated and the three headed down the sidewalk towards John, Stacy and the Pope.

As Josiah closed in on John and the others he noticed the demon in the white flight suit and paused. It wasn't long before the demon closed in and Josiah backed away. He was going to greet them with the usual, 'God is good,' but instead barked, "He's the Devil!" at the Pope.

"No, but close," Stacy replied.

"What do you mean? Close?"

"He's not Satan, just a demon."

"Is that correct?" Josiah asked the Pope.

"Who are you that I should answer your question?" the Pope replied.

"I'm Jesus Christ," Josiah replied. "I've returned from the dead."

The Pope wasn't sure how to take the reply. He hadn't seen Jesus in two thousand years and forgot what he looked like. "There have been a lot of false prophets, how can I be sure you're the Christ?"

"Look at my wound," Josiah replied pointing to the hole in his cheek.

The Pope stepped in a bit closer and squinted, examining the hole in Josiah's cheek. "Yeah, but what does that prove? You were hung on a cross and stabbed in the side, I don't recall a stab wound to the face."

"This is more recent," Josiah replied. He pulled up his shirt and looked for the wound to his side and found an old appendectomy scar.

"Wrong side," the Pope stated. "And that has old stitch marks."

Josiah was perplexed. He should have a wound to his side, and marks on his forehead from the crown of thorns. He felt around his forehead for dimple marks and found nothing. "It's been two thousand years, I must have healed."

"You must," John stated elbowing Stacy in the ribs.

"Do not doubt me, I am Jesus Christ," Josiah replied.

The sounds of bombs exploding had decreased as the planes moved out into the countryside but the area still looked like a war zone. The Cathedral was engulfed in flames and smoke filled the air in all directions obscuring their view. Above the smoke the sounds of the C-130 transport planes could be heard as they flew the rescued child molesting Catholic priests out of town towards the ocean.

"I think the worst is over," Cane stated. "Once they have who they came for they'll leave."

"I don't know, they seemed pretty pissed," John replied. "Ask the Pope, he'll know."

"Can we stop calling him the 'Pope?" Cane asked. "If he's a demon he must have a demon name."

John asked the Pope, "Do you have a demon name?"

"I do," the Pope replied.

Silence.

"What is it?" John asked.

"None of your fucking business," the Pope replied.

"So much for that, I guess we call him the Pope," John replied.

Cane asked the Pope, "Is the bombing over?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," was the Pope's childish reply.

"What are you? Six?" Cane asked. "That's what my grandkids would say."

John said, "Let's beat the shit out of him and find out."

"Leave it to a human to resort to violence," the Pope replied smug.

"Are you shitting me? Violence is all you demons do, it's your job."

"Yes it is, and we do it very well," the Pope replied.

Bored and on her phone Stacy spoke up. "They'll be back, I suggest we find a place to hide."

"How do you know?" the Pope asked. He felt something odd about Stacy but couldn't put his finger on it. "Why do you spend so much time on your phone? You've done nothing but tap on that thing since we met."

"I've got a lot of followers," Stacy replied. Conflict usually made her happy because she was worshiped more at the times of stress but today she was depressed. Not for any particular reason other than she had episodes of bi polar personality disorder. Today was a down day for her. "There's an old bomb shelter next to the Cathedral parking lot. We can hide in there for a while until the Vatican is done bombing the shit out of this place."

"How do you know about the bomb shelter?" the Pope asked.

"I Googled it," Stacy replied.

The group scurried over to the parking lot and found a manhole cover on a cement slab ten feet from the entrance sign. The cover had a padlock attached that kept kids from exploring what lie beneath and the group from safety.

"Does anyone have a bolt cutter?" John asked. He was joking.

Josiah knelt down and pulled on the lock to see if it would open. It didn't. "Let us pray," Josiah said. "Bow your heads."

"Bow your heads? How absurd," the Pope scoffed.

Josiah stood up and slapped the Pope on the back of the head to get him to bow. All he did was cut his palm on the horns sticking out of his temples.

"Do you think your God would listen to my prayers?" the Pope stated. "I'm a fucking demon."

"Fine," Josiah replied. "Everyone else, let us pray. Dear Lord, help us in our time of need and allow us to enter this shelter. Find it in your heard to disengage the padlock and present us with a miracle. In your name we worship you. Amen."

All but Stacy replied 'Amen,' and Josiah took notice.

"Why did you not say 'Amen?" Josiah asked.

"Why are you praying to yourself?" Stacy asked.

"Huh?"

"You claim to be Jesus Christ yet you pray to God. Aren't you God?"

"I am one of the Trinity," Josiah replied.

"Ok," Stacy replied shaking her head. "Maybe the Holy Ghost has a bolt cutter."

"Do not blaspheme!" Josiah snapped.

"I'm dead serious, does anyone else see the absurdity of this situation. He's praying to himself and won't ask the Holy Ghost for help."

Rhonda replied sheepishly, "Maybe he's not Jesus."

"Then who do you suppose I am?" Josiah asked the young nurse.

"A fraud," Rhonda replied. "What happened to performing miracles?"

Josiah paused. "I was in the middle of one before I was so rudely interrupted. You need to have faith. You need to believe in me."

# Chapter 14

# Bomb Shelter

"Those Catholics with their indulgences, the only thing more immoral is an atheist," The Reverend Charles Cane stated with his back against the shelter wall. The room was dim---twenty feet deep into the underground bunker, but it was safe. Safer than being above ground.

Rhonda perked up when she heard Cane condemning atheists. A closeted atheist for as long as she remembered she had to put up with the insults all her life and never give anyone a piece of her mind.

The underground shelter was cold and the only light came from a chemical mixture kept in tubes that when stimulated by electricity would give off a dim golden glow. This kind of lighting was used because traditional bulbs would never last the years needed until an emergency occurred. The shelter was about the size of a two stall garage with empty food cabinets, an empty refrigerator and a twelve inch water pipe that ran across the ceiling which was an obvious addition since the bunker was built back in the fifties.

It looked as if over time a new water line was installed to the Cathedral and the shortest span was through the bunker. The pipes gave off a whining sound as water was pumped to the Cathedral and spilled onto the ground after the bombing took place. There was a table and chairs set up in the center of the room with enough chairs for everyone to have a seat. Josiah sat at one end of the rectangle shaped table with the Pope at the other end. To Josiah's right sat Cane and Rhonda and on his left sat John and Stacy. Stacy had her phone out and was reading her messages like usual.

"Why do you come down so hard on atheists?" Rhonda asked breaking the silence. She was tired, scared and pissed off.

"What do you mean?" Cane asked. "You know it's against the law to be an atheist."

"It's also against the law to be a homosexual but you can't make a person change who they are just because you made a law," Rhonda snapped back.

"Are you a homosexual?" Cane asked.

"What if I were?"

"I'd turn you in," Cane replied.

"I bet you would. I wonder what's hiding in your closet?"

"What are you accusing me of?" Cane asked.

"Maybe you're a warlock," Rhonda stated. "Maybe you raised Josiah from the dead with a spell?"

"Oh no, you can't accuse me of that. I do not cast spells."

Josiah spoke up to defend himself. "I'm no longer Josiah, I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God."

"Now I'm convinced. Not only did you cast a spell on Josiah and bring him back to life, you convinced him he's Jesus. Only a warlock could do that."

Cane stood up and pushed his chair back in defiance. "Listen to me girl, you are either a homosexual or an atheist and are blaming me for something I did not do to take attention away from yourself."

"Bullshit," Rhonda stated slapping her right palm on the table top.

Stacy looked up from her phone to add, "You're all a bunch of fucking sinners so why don't you chill out?"

"Chill out?" Cane asked. "I'm not a hippy like you. Why don't you and your girlfriend here go in the corner and do what your type does."

"You think I'm a lesbian?" Stacy asked with a belly laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Then why do you defend her?"

"Because you're an asshole," Stacy replied. "Now sit down and shut the fuck up."

"I will not allow a woman to tell me what to do," Cane stated as fact in the lowest tone he could muster.

"Fine, stand up, I don't give a shit," Stacy replied. She looked back down at her phone and continued to tap on the screen scrolling up occasionally.

Rhonda was now feeling empowered and decided to chime in against Cane. "It's backwards Christians like you that keep us in the dark ages, you know that?"

"I don't understand," Cane replied. "It is you that lives in the dark ages, not I."

"You teach the Earth is six thousand years old, that Noah's ark was real, that man lived with the dinosaurs and that the universe was fine tuned for our existence. Everything you believe in is backwards."

"You give yourself away girl, you are an atheist!" Cane snapped.

"And damn fucking proud of it," Rhonda replied standing up. "At least I don't live in a delusional fantasy land."

"You go get em girl," Stacy stated with a smile.

"So you agree with her." Cane stated. "It's always the women."

"It's always the women what?" Rhonda asked.

"You pervert our world, you need to do as our Lord commands in the bible."

"Please, quote scripture," Rhonda stated. She stood with her arms folded and her head cocked to the side waiting for the volley.

"As you wish," Cane replied. "Ephesians 5:22, Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord."

"We're not married you dumb fuck," Ronda replied. "Next."

"Timothy 2:12, I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet."

"Now that's better," Rhonda replied. "You know what you can do with your bible?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me," Cane replied. He was ready for the next volley.

Rhonda looked over to Stacy for help but Stacy kept looking at her phone.

"Don't ask me," Stacy said without looking up. Then a smile crossed her face.

"What's up with you?" Rhonda asked. "Did you post a good meme?"

"No, keep talking, I find you very entertaining."

Cane took the opportunity to rip into Rhonda. "Tell me atheist, where do you get your moral compass? What keeps you from killing babies and eating them?"

"What kind of fucked up question was that?" Rhonda asked.

"My morals come from the Lord, where do yours come from?"

"That's a stupid question," Rhonda replied. "Are you telling me that the only reason why you don't kill and eat babies is because you're afraid you'll be punished? Because if that's the case you have no morals at all."

"I have no desire to kill babies," Cane replied. He felt like she got one over on him.

"Neither do I, and I don't need anyone to tell me not to. Unlike you who would in a second if your bible didn't stop you, you immoral unjustified freak."

"There is nothing keeping you from sin," Cane stated. "You have no code, no rule of law."

"No, I'm just a damn good human being," Rhonda replied.

"I agree with the Reverend Cane," the Pope stated. "You have nothing to keep you from sinning and when you do you have no chance of forgiveness. If you don't accept Jesus as your Lord and savior you're doomed to spend eternity in hell."

"Yeah, I bet you know all about that one Pope," Rhonda replied with a laugh. "You red headed bald fuck. I bet you know all about repenting."

"I've accepted my fate, I will lie in the bed I've created for myself," the Pope replied.

"Tell me," Josiah asked. "Why did you take on the image of the Pope in the first place?'

"Once you have them hooked, believers will do anything you say. We grew the Catholic Church into our own hell on Earth and all the simple minded followers fell in line and did what we told them. Can you believe we convinced them fish wasn't meat? How absurd is that?"

"I always wondered about that myself," Josiah replied.

"Yes, but if you can convince people that a man lived in the belly of a fish for three days and survived, or that a man can be hung on a cross, die and then be reborn in three days you can pretty much do whatever you want."

"But that's what happened to me. I died and was reborn in three days," Josiah replied.

"Prove it," the Pope stated.

"What do you mean prove it?"

"I say you were never dead, maybe you were in a coma."

"The doctor said I was dead," Josiah replied.

"What doctor?" the Pope asked.

"Now that's bullshit and you know it. We all heard him say it."

"I wasn't there. I didn't hear anyone say you were dead for any length of time," The Pope replied.

Rhonda chimed in, "I heard it."

"Who believes an atheist?" the Pope stated. "Here I sit in full view of my true self and you deny who I am."

"I have no idea who you are. For all I know you got that get up from a tattoo shop. Maybe you like dressing up like Halloween all year round," Rhonda replied.

"Do you really think this is a costume," the Pope stated pointing at his own face.

"Honestly, I don't know. You are an ugly fuck. I'll give you that."

"God could be sitting at this table and you'd deny it," the Pope stated.

Stacy looked up from her phone, the conversation was getting interesting.

"It would take a lot of evidence to convince me, but if I were satisfied I would believe. "

"Liar," the Pope said with a toothy grin. "The Lord is sitting at this very table and you didn't know it."

Stacy darted her eyes at her phone pretending not to be paying attention.

"Who are you talking about?" Rhonda asked. "It's not you, certainly not either of the Reverends. Are you saying it's John?"

The Pope looked at John and shook his head no.

Rhonda then shifted her gaze to Stacy who was busy avoiding the conversation. "Are you saying it's her?" Rhonda asked.

"Ask her," the Pope replied.

Rhonda paused for a moment to think of her next move. What the Pope said seemed more absurd than anything she had brought up so far. "But she's a girl."

"So?"

"The bible clearly says God is a man."

"Since when do you follow the bible? Atheist," the Pope stated low and slow.

"He's full of shit, don't believe a word he says," Stacy said, setting her phone on the table.

"Don't lie to the girl," the Pope stated to Stacy. "You're not good at it, not like me."

Just then a bomb exploded near the bunker and the lid to the shelter slammed shut overhead. The water pipe in the corner cracked and water shot out of the openings with a spray that could cut steal. The lights remained on but it was difficult to see with the outside light cut off and the water spray that clouded everything in the room.

Everyone in the room scrambled to get out and ran for the ladder that led up the tube to the surface. John made it to the ladder first and climbed up as fast as he could but found that the lid was slammed tight and wouldn't budge. He quickly assumed debris landed on top of the heavy steel lid and kept it weighed down.

"Hurry up, the bunker's filling with water!" Cane yelled.

"I can't move it, there's something holding it down!" John yelled over the sound of the water spray.

"Let me try!" Cane yelled as he pulled John down from the ladder. John landed in a foot of freezing cold water that didn't do anything to cushion his landing on the concrete below.

"You fucking son of a bitch," John said as he watched Cane climb the ladder.

Cane pushed as hard as he could but the lid would not move. Below he saw water filling the shelter and those counting on him to save them looking up waiting to see the sky above when the lid opened. "I can't get it to move!" Cain yelled down the ladder.

"Is there another way out?" Rhonda asked screaming as loud as she could.

By now the water was two feet deep and a few of the chairs were floating. The spray from the pipe didn't let up and everyone had the sinking feeling they would be found drown in the shelter years later.

Then the Pope called out to Stacy. "Do something you lazy fuck, or everyone's going to die! Everyone but you!"

Stacy stood up and put her phone away. She paused for a while to think and then looked up to the broken pipe and the water stopped immediately. Everyone in the room was stunned, but relived.

"What just happened?" Rhonda asked. The room was now quiet.

John was shocked at the thought that Stacy would let him die like a drown rat and decided to let her have it. "After all we've gone through you were going to let me die?"

"Yes," Stacy replied.

"You cold hearted bitch."

"I don't owe you anything," Stacy stated firm. "I can let that pipe go again you ungrateful bastard."

"Ungrateful?" John asked. "Do you want me to get down on my knees and worship you? Is that what you want?" John asked.

"I like being worshipped. Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

Cane sloshed through the freezing cold water and stopped at the table. "What are you saying? Are you God?"

Stacy shrugged her shoulders and didn't say anything.

"Did you repair the pipe and stop the flow of water?"

"I don't know, probably not. Try the lid again, I want to get out of here," Stacy replied and the lid opened.

# Chapter 15

# Six months later

John climbed the steps to Stacy's mansion and was led by an angel to the rear of the huge manor to a massive swimming pool hidden in back. The pool was surrounded by a beautiful green garden and on the far side rose a tree fifty feet in the air that gave shade to the bar and grill below. The image of the Garden of Eden crossed John's mind as he was led through the gate towards the shade of the great tree.

Along the pathway men and women lounged on deck chairs shaded by large colored umbrellas and sipped on drinks with fancy names. Each man and woman he passed wore a nametag attached to a lanyard that hung around their necks that John couldn't read or understand. Angels waited on guests like the servants they were dressed in fine suits, white gloves and shiny white polished shoes. At the end of the pool Stacy sat up on her dark grey deck chair sipping her drink from a straw. She wore a yellow wide brimmed hat, a red bikini top and dark sunglasses that hid her eyes from John's view. Around her waist she wore a printed beach towel with a picture of a dolphin and in her hand a romance novel with a picture of a half-naked cowboy.

"I see you got my invitation," Stacy said looking up from her book.

John could smell the meat on the grill and his stomach grumbled. "This tree..."

"Yes, it is what you think it is. Don't eat the fruit, you won't like what happens," Stacy replied with a grin.

"So this is the Garden?"

"You like it?"

"It's very nice, I don't remember the pool in Genesis."

"I didn't have it installed until a few years ago," Stacy replied.

"So who are all these people?" John asked looking around.

"Friends."

"Yeah I bet. Why are they wearing name tags?"

"Sometimes I forget their names," Stacy replied. "I have that name disease."

"How does God forget names?"

"This is really embarrassing, but do you recall the story of Passover? Where they had to smear the blood of lambs on the doors so I'd know which houses to spare?"

"Yeah," John replied.

"You'd think I'd remember which houses to miss but you know my memory."

"You are the most fallible, infallible God I ever met."

"Anyway, I'm glad you came, I think you will enjoy what I have planned for later."

"It just said 'Open house,' on my invitation. There was nothing about a special event."

"Did you bring a swimming suit? I know it said pool party on the invitation."

"I'm not much of a swimmer," John replied. Then he noticed something odd about the grill. "Is that who I think it is?" John asked.

"You mean Koresh? Yes, I took him out of the hallway and put him under the grill. I don't need a furnace in mid-July, but I do need something to grill my steaks."

"That's so gross, how did you stop his screaming?" John asked.

"I think they shoved a gag in his mouth, I don't mess with the grill, angels do."

John paused for a moment to watch Koresh burn, then heal and burn again. "I don't know how long I can stay, how long until this 'special event?'" John asked.

"Well, I suppose I can move it up if you're in a hurry."

"I'm not in a hurry, I just don't like parties like these. I get bored easily."

Stacy called for one of the angels to come over and whispered in his ear. The angel took off and headed towards the bathhouse and disappeared inside. "Why don't you have a seat, we have much to catch up on. I haven't seen you since January."

John pulled up a chair and sat down next to Stacy. He was wearing brown cargo shorts and a Bon Jovi T-shirt.

"So what's been going on with you?" Stacy asked.

"Are you serious?"

"Play along."

"Can I get a drink?" John asked.

"It's already on the way," Stacy replied.

An angel walked over from the bar and handed John a cola with ice, just like he liked it. "Thanks," John said and took a sip. "I've been working down at the homeless shelter a lot, and doing street ministry. Sort of."

"What do you mean?"

"Now that I know Jesus was a fraud it kind of takes the bite out of my sales pitch."

"Get any converts?"

"Everyone in Biblandia is a convert by default, you know that. To deny you is a death sentence."

"Of course," Stacy replied. "How silly of me to ask."

"I do have a question for you though, since you proved to me that Jesus was a sham, how exactly are people supposed to gain entry into heaven? Is the whole 'believe in me' thing still valid?"

"I don't know," Stacy replied.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" John asked.

"I was joking, take a chill pill," Stacy replied. "Yes, it's still the 'belief' thing. I'm still God."

"So where do all the souls go when they die?"

"You saw the hallway with all the rooms," Stacy replied.

"Yes, but I figured they were waiting to be filled once you judged the living and the dead."

"That's new Testament bullshit. Are you paying attention?"

John leaned back in his chair and took a good long sip on his ice cold drink. He watched people swimming, splashing and jumping off the diving boards into the water. It was a nice day, around seventy five degrees with blue skies and a nice breeze. From where he sat he could see the dark green shrubs and bushes that surrounded the pool and above him the tree of the _knowledge of good and evil_. "What kind of fruit does that tree bare?" John asked.

"It doesn't bare any fruit, it's a metaphor."

"Then why do you call it the 'Tree of the knowledge of good and evil?"

"Because 'tree' by itself sounds boring," Stacy replied. "I wanted Adam and Eve to stay as dumb as a stick. I didn't need any completion."

"Then why put the tree in the garden in the first place?"

Stacy didn't reply and looked back at her cowboy romance novel.

"I got to go," John said and shuffled in his seat."

"No, wait, give me ten minutes," Stacy said and motioned for the sky to darken. In an instant it went from mid-day to mid-eve and the Sun moved across the sky towards the horizon.

"That shit's going to freak people out you know," John said. "The Sun normally doesn't move that fast and...never mind," he added with a face palm.

"Follow me," Stacy said. She stood up, took John by the hand and led him down the walkway to the bath house. Before they got there they turned towards the mansion and entered the kitchen door. It was much cooler inside with the air on and nobody was there to bother them. She led him into the living room and to the door to the long hall with all the doors. She was giddy like an exited school girl bringing a show and tell. She opened the door and led John down to door eleven and opened it letting John in first.

"You've got to be kidding me," John said. He was stunned to see Josiah burning at a stake across the room.

"I have another one for my collection," Stacy said jumping up and down.

"Another what?"

"Another Jesus, he claimed to be Jesus, you heard him."

"Yeah, but I don't think he was serious," John replied. "He was delusional."

"They're all delusional," Stacy replied.

"Why is he burning at the stake? Last I knew he was still alive."

"Nope, he pissed off a bunch church elders and they burned him at the stake. I try to display them the way they died."

"If that were the case you should have displayed him with the bullet in his cheek, that's how he originally died. Before you brought him back to life."

"Do you know how boring that would be?" Stacy asked.

"You brought him back to life once, why not again?"

"He had a second chance, he didn't have to claim to be my kid. That was on him and now he's paying for it. I should really charge admission and put these messiah's on public display."

"Like you need money. You're such a narcissist," John stated.

"You're not losing your faith now are you?" Stacy asked.

"You'd know."

"If you're so upset, why don't you go over there and save him?"

John stood and thought for a moment. "Me against the will of God?"

"Pray," Stacy replied.

"Since when do you listen to prayers?"

"I listen all the time, I just don't act on them," Stacy replied.

"Never?"

"Oh, back in the day I would respond occasionally, just enough to keep them coming, but nowadays I don't have to."

"Why not?"

"Preachers do my dirty work for me," Stacy replied.

John turned and headed out into the hallway frustrated with Stacy's ' _Holier than thou'_ attitude.

"Fucking baby," Stacy said. "Get the hell out."

John turned and slowly shook his head at Stacy. He mocked her with his every move. "I envy the atheist. For the power they hold over you."

Stacy raised her hand as to cast a spell on John but lowered it and smiled. "Don't go too far," Stacy said. "I want to talk to you outside.

# Chapter 16

# Hot tub

John left the house and headed back out to the pool when he noticed two women sitting at the edge of a hot tub with their legs submerged in the bubbling water and curly pink tails resting on the concrete behind them. They were both fire engine red with little horns sticking out of their temples, yellow glowing eyes and sipping on drinks. Both women were wearing bikinis, one white and the other black and pink. At the edge of the hot tub was a garden hose with the end submerged somewhere at the bottom of the pool. From the sound of the faucet John could tell the water was on and constantly filling the steaming tub.

"Mind if I join you?" John asked the ladies.

Both women turned and looked up at John who was approaching. The demon woman with the white bikini replied, "I don't think that would be a good idea. The water is really hot."

John looked at the hot tub thermostat and read 'one hundred ninety seven degrees," and saw that the heater was in the 'off' position. "That's alright, I didn't bring a swimming suit anyway," John replied with a smile. "What are you two ladies doing here? I didn't think God would invite demons to her pool party. Plus, how did you gals get out of hell in the first place?"

"Hell is like a dorm," the demon replied. "There is no locked gate."

A bit bewildered, John replied, "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Zelltia and this is my girlfriend Lynnrelle," the demon replied.

"So you can come and go as you please?"

"Yeah, we're roommates," Zelltia replied.

"And Stacy invited you to come to her pool party? Where are your friends?"

"It's just us, we were not invited like everyone else here. We're ambassadors on a diplomatic mission."

"In a bikini?"

"Stacy is very informal."

"I've noticed. What kind of mission are you on?"

"We've come to request that Lucifer be released." Zelltia replied.

John smiled and shook his head. "Are you kidding? That's her most revered trophy. You don't have a chance in hell."

"We know, but we are required to try. We've met with her every year since she absconded with him."

"You've been doing this for over two thousand years? Has she always had a hot tub?"

"No, she installed this back in the nineties. Before that we met in her office."

The thought of Stacy having an office seemed odd to John. She seemed more of the coffee shop type. "Have you met with her yet?"

"No," Zelltia replied, "But soon."

Stacy stepped up behind John and handed him a glass of sweet tea. "That's why I want you to stay. I want you to sit in on the negotiations."

John took a sip of his drink and made a face. "How much sugar did you put in this?"

"Try it now," Stacy replied.

John took a sip and nodded his head. "That's better. I wish you were omniscient, that way you'd get my tea right the first time."

"We can meet here or in the conference room---you pick it," Stacy asked the demon girls.

"Let's go in the house," Lynnrelle replied. "The water is making my skin wrinkle."

The two demons stepped out of the hot tub and instantly dried off. They didn't need a towel. They followed Stacy and John back into the house, through the kitchen and down a small hall to the conference room. The inside of the room looked more like a kids bedroom than a conference room with brightly colored paintings on the walls, several bean bag chairs on the floor, a video game console and a crappy old garage sale table and chairs set up in the middle.

"This is so you," John said. "And the funny thing is you don't have kids."

"Are you saying my tastes are juvenile?" Stacy asked.

"You are a juvenile," John replied smug.

"Take a seat ladies," Stacy said motioning for the demon ladies to take a seat. "Would you like refreshments?"

"I'd take a cherry vodka with diet cola," Lynnrelle replied.

"Do you have bottled water?" Zelltia asked.

Before Stacy could reply and angel entered the room with both drinks and set them on the table in front of each demon. John sat stunned at the efficiency. And the wings.

"Let's get started," Stacy said. She pretended to bang an imaginary gavel on the table. "Give me the speech."

Lynnrelle spoke first. "We are officially here to request the return of our Lord Lucifer that you stole from us after allowing him to be hung on a cross and humiliated before all of humanity."

"Is that it?" Stacy asked surprised. "I think last time you said more."

"I probably did, but I didn't bring my notes," Lynnrelle replied.

"I see. Well, I have to admit I have been thinking about this a bit more lately. I see you've met my friend John here and I showed him my prize and he got me thinking. Maybe I could show a little bit of mercy and maybe lend Lucifer out for a bit."

John spoke up, "I thought God was unchanging?"

"Well fuck it, I just changed my mind. I could let him out for let's say...a month or so. But I'd need him back in good condition."

The two demon women were not expecting that reply. They didn't bring anything to take Lucifer back in. "Oh," Zelltia replied. "That's nice of you."

"Nice of you?" John asked. "I thought you'd be jumping for joy."

"No, we're very happy, we just weren't prepared for her to agree with us. We'll need time to make arrangements."

"Like what kind of arrangements?" John asked.

"We have a rental car but there's not enough room for three of us with our luggage. We'll have to book a flight."

"What kind of car do you have that only seats two?" John asked.

"It seats four, but our luggage takes up the entire back of the vehicle."

John thought for a moment. Something seemed really odd to him and a question popped in his head he never thought he'd ever ask.

"Where would you book the flight too? I mean, where is hell?" John asked.

"Montgomry Alabama," Lynnrelle replied. "About ten miles to the west."

"You do realize there is a 'No fly zone' at the border of Biblandia don't you? You can't just fly to Montgomery."

"We'll hijack the plane."

"Huh?'

"You know, with guns."

Stacy tried not to laugh.

"How did you get across the border in the first place? They don't just allow anyone into the country."

"We have passports," Zelltia replied.

"Then what's the problem? Use your passport and drive across the border."

"Lucifer doesn't have one."

"Oh, that's right," John replied. "Can't you forge one?"

Both demons looked to Stacy. She looked away like she didn't hear a thing.

"I didn't think so," Zelltia replied. "If you're going to give him to us for a month, the least you can do is issue him a passport."

"I've done enough, you can do the rest," Stacy replied waving her off like a fly.

"We do appreciate your cooperation with this, but as official ambassadors to hell we officially request a passport for Lucifer."

"I can issue a leave of absence, but that's it. You're on your own. Plus, he's basically naked so you'll need to get him some clothes," Stacy replied. "And a toothbrush."

The two demon women looked at each other and back to Stacy. "Fine," Lynnrelle replied. When can we get him?"

"Anytime, I'll have one of my angels make up the paperwork. I'll let you have him for---six weeks, how does that sound?"

John spoke up. "Do you expect them to return him in sex weeks? Once they have him they won't give him back, you know that."

Stacy replied. "Are you me now?"

"Obviously not, but you know they won't return him."

"I'll send you after him if they don't," Stacy replied.

"Send me? Are you fucking kidding me? What do I look like?"

"You look like a pastor who needs a real job. How do you pay your rent anyway?"

John hung his head. "I don't---not this month at least. I got an eviction notice."

"There you go, when they don't bring him back, I'll hire you to go get him. And I'll let you use my Journey."

"I'll need a passport for me," John replied. "And I can't bring Lucifer back over the border without one for him."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Stacy said with a smile and pounded her imaginary gavel on the table. "Meeting adjourned."

The two lady demons left the room with their tails hanging out the back of their bikini bottoms. John took notice and didn't know to feel turned on or disgusted. He looked around the room again at the art on the walls and made the comment, "Did you paint these?"

"Maybe," Stacy replied. "Do you like them?"

"They're alright," John replied. "I prefer landscapes."

"Those are landscapes."

John paused for a moment. "Your house has a new car smell, or should I say a new house smell."

"What does that mean? Stacy asked.

"You know when you buy a new car it has the super clean smell to it, not like pine or flowers, just clean. This house smells like that."

"We use hospital disinfectant," Stacy replied.

The second Stacy said 'hospital disinfectant," John thought about his stay in the hospital when he was five getting his tonsils out. The white room, the white ceiling, the uber clean sinks and countertops, and the nurses. "Yeah, it does sort of smell like that."

"Since I have you here I want you to see something," Stacy said and leaned over to pick up two hard cover books and set them on the table. She slid one over to John who scooped it up and read the cover. "Take a look at this bullshit," Stacy said. On the cover of the book it read, **'Creation, the design of the Lord, Eighth grade science.'**

"I don't get it, what's the problem?" John asked.

"It's an eighth grade science textbook, that's the problem. The new one for this year," Stacy replied. On the cover was a picture of a green lizard walking on a branch with green leaves. In the top right corner was the Christian publisher and their Noah's Ark logo.

"I still don't see the problem."

"It's a bunch of creationist bullshit," Stacy said. She was pissed. "None of the information, or should I say most of the information is correct. It fits the Christian non science agenda."

"Are you saying you didn't create anything?" John asked.

"Not like they're saying in here," Stacy replied slamming down the book. "They took the book of Genesis, which I may add is a bunch of baloney, and made up their own interpretation. Not only does it have creation wrong, the timeline is all fucked up and they say there was dinosaurs on Noah's Ark. There was no fucking Noah's Ark and the dinosaurs were millions of years before any human walked the Earth."

"You mean before Adam and Eve."

"Huh?" Stacy asked.

"Adam and Eve, remember? You created them first."

"Don't tell me you believe that bullshit too do you?" Stacy asked.

"That's Bible 101," John replied. "They teach that in Sunday school."

"Yeah, I don't get that either, but at least that's at church, not at school."

"Why don't you do something about it then if it bothers you so much?"

"I did," Stacy replied. She had daggers in her eyes. "I left so many clues that anyone with any sense would be able to figure it out. Go to the Grand Canyon and tell me the Earth is six thousand years old. Dig up a dinosaur bone and tell me the same thing. Darwin wrote a fucking book on the subject."

"They have reasons for all that stuff, you know that," John replied.

"Excuses," Stacy replied shoving the book to the center of the table. "How fucking blind are these people?"

"I don't get it, you're God and you didn't create anything?"

"I did the big bang, wasn't that enough?" Stacy asked in a mocking tone.

"The big bang isn't..."

"Isn't what?" Stacy asked.

John was hesitant to reply. "There are lots of people that don't believe in the big bang. You can't get something from nothing."

"Who says there was nothing?" Stacy asked. "What a bunch of fucking morons."

"But no one was there to see the big bang," John said. He liked quoting imbeciles.

"No one was there when I supposedly created the universe either..."

"Touché," John replied. He felt the sword of her words slide through his figurative heart. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Stacy didn't reply.

"I get it, the same as prayer, nothing."

"I gave them plenty of clues, they can go fuck themselves," Stacy replied. She sat back and folded her arms.

# Chapter 17

# The next day

The City Street Mission homeless shelter sat in a rundown part of town on the wrong side of the tracks. It was an old apartment building that was repurposed to serve the poor and homeless with a Christian mission to assist with job placement, social programs, food and shelter for anyone in need.

Like most evenings John cooked in the kitchen, served at the window, bussed tables and waited on those they served in the kitchen area. He worked part time for minimum wage and made very little. But it was satisfying work and he was able to reach out to those that needed help, comfort and a little Jesus in their lives. But now that he knew the truth about Jesus he felt a hole in his heart and his job went from saving souls to slinging hash over a hot greasy stove.

Then his phone rang---it was Stacy, it was on his caller ID. John didn't recall giving Stacy his phone number, but she was God so it probably wasn't a stretch that she figured it out. "Hello," John said into the phone. He wasn't expecting to hear from her again.

"The plane crashed," Stacy said. She said it like she was reporting the weather on a stormy day.

"Say again?"

"The plane was hijacked and crashed near Orlando," Stacy said. "All the passengers died, including the two pilots."

"That's horrible, how many were there?"

"Four," Stacy replied. "Two pilots and two passengers, not including our demon friends and Lucifer who can't die."

The low number made no sense to John. "Was it a commercial flight? Or was it some private plane?'

"It was a Boing 767," Stacy replied.

"With seven on board? How do they make money doing that?"

"Biblandia is only three states in size so they use most of the big planes for cargo and section off the front for passengers. There were a lot of packages lost in the crash. So I need to go find Lucifer and I need your help."

John was in a daze. "I don't have a passport," he stated shaking his head.

"Check your back pocket," Stacy replied and John did. He felt something odd in his back pocket and pulled out a folder with his photo and passport information already filled out. "Was that a miracle?" John asked.

Stacy belly laughed over the phone and appeared like magic on the other side of the serving window dressed in black. "Over here dumbass," Stacy said knocking on the counter.

John looked up and saw Stacy standing on the other side of the counter and put his phone back on the charger. "Another miracle," John said in a mocking tone. "Why are you here?"

"I'm going with you," Stacy replied.

"You know I'm broke, right?" John asked. "I'm not going anywhere. I have enough gas in my car to get me to work and back till payday, that's about it. If I don't eat the leftovers here, I don't eat at all."

"Check your wallet," Stacy said with her face buried in her phone.

John pulled his wallet from the other back pocket and held it up for her to see.

"Look inside."

John opened his wallet and fount it full of cash. Hundreds, twenties, tens and ones. "How much is in here?"

"Doesn't matter, it auto fills when needed," Stacy replied.

"You mean like the loaves of bread and fishes?" John asked. "That's so New Testament."

"I borrowed the idea from the New Testament," Stacy replied. Feeling her phone vibrate, she tapped on the screen and scrolled up. "Got an active shooter," she stated reading from the display.

"Where, and how many dead?" John asked.

"Austin Texas---Shopko---six so far," Stacy replied.

"What will the total be?"

"Fuck I don't know, free will, remember?"

"Yeah, I still can't get over how your supposed to know everything but you don't," John replied.

"Don't believe everything you read in your holy book. I already told you the last half was bullshit and the first half is so full of lies that made up stories that you might as well throw it away."

"But it is the inspired word of---you," John stated.

"Goat herders John, goat herders, and need I say more?" Stacy replied. "Get this shit-hole cleaned up so we can leave, we have a mission."

"I'm confused, did the demons hijack the plane?"

"Does it matter at this point?" Stacy replied. "Lucifer is free with two demon bitches and I want him back and unfortunately you're my only hope."

"Why can't the cops pick him up? He should be bright red by now along with the two girls."

"They appear like normal humans when I'm not around. He still looks like white Jesus and they look like two soccer moms," Stacy replied.

"That begs a question," John said.

"I know what you're going to ask, why 'white' Jesus?"

"Yeah, he wasn't Nordic. He was middle eastern."

"He made up his own look, I just hung him up in my basketball court the way I found him."

"Didn't the people at the time find that odd? That he didn't look like them?" John asked.

"Fuck I don't know and I don't really care. Punch out and lets go," Stacy snapped.

"How long is this going to take? I need to clear this with my boss."

Stacy hung her head and placed her palm on her forehead. "Ask for a leave of absence."

"You don't ask for a leave of absence at a homeless shelter," John replied. "I have bills to pay."

"Fine!" I'll hire you in the meantime."

"Not good enough. Once you find him I'm out looking for another job. I have a job. It might not pay that great but at least it's steady."

Frustrated, Stacy paced back and forth with her arms folded. She could smell the microwaved burritos from supper and the odor didn't sit well with her. "How can you stand the smell in here?"

"Smells like a paycheck," John replied.

"You know I can't make you a permanent employee. I have angels for that."

"Then get one of them to help you find Lucifer," John snapped back. He reached for a mop and began to clean the floor.

"That's not what they're for, you know that. They're messengers. Like the Post office."

"Are you saying there is no place in your huge fucking kingdom for me on your payroll? I went to graphic design school, I can do websites, and I can do posters and fliers."

"Why would I need a website?" Stacy asked.

"So you can send messages faster, then you could lay off some of your angels and save money," John replied.

"I don't run a corporation. I don't really have a payroll and technically the angels are not considered 'employees'. It's not like I withhold taxes and Medicare from their paychecks. They don't get retirement and or vacation pay."

"You can make an exception for me or go find Lucifer yourself," John stated as fact. He mopped around the stove and rung out the dirty water into a yellow bucket. "The burritos were good tonight," John stated. "I think the salsa we use is better than most Mexican restaurants around here."

"I don't give a shit about your salsa," Stacy replied.

"I don't give a shit about your mission either," John replied. "You can go now, I need to mop around the tables next."

Stacy snapped her fingers and the entire floor in the commons area was clean. And the smell was now replaced with that of hospital disinfectant.

John squinted his eyes as an epiphany entered his mind. "If you can clean the floor like that, why can't you snap your fingers and bring back Lucifer?"

"That would make for a very dull story."

"Yeah, I see your point. The bible is full of that goat herder story conflict bull."

"Focus, we need to get going," Stacy replied. She could feel her phone vibrate and it annoyed her to no end.

"I didn't hear you offer me a full time job," John replied ignoring Stacy.

"Fucking fine, you can make a website," Stacy replied flinging her arms up in the air in frustration.

"It will need to be maintained, I need a permanent full time job. I need at least fifteen dollars an hour, sick and vacation pay and an office and computer," John stated.

"Deal," Stacy replied.

"Direct deposit."

"What the fuck is 'direct deposit?"

"You send my paycheck directly to my bank account."

"How do I do that?" Stacy asked. She was on her last nerve.

"Have your accountant set it up," John replied.

"I don't have a..."

John raised his hand to get Stacy to shut up. "Then walk your ass down to the bank and set it up for me. Have your bank send my paycheck to my bank every two weeks. It can't be that hard."

Stacy didn't have a bank but was tired of John's annoying banter. "Fine, I will."

"I need to fill out my W-4," John stated.

"W what?"

"Maybe it would be easier for you to pay me under the table," John said. "Keep filling this wallet after we find Lucifer and I'll be satisfied."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Stacy asked.

"Why didn't you?" John replied.

"Wait a second," John said with another epiphany. "They said they might have to hijack the plane, and they signed a contract saying they'd return Lucifer in six weeks. Why don't you give them the benefit of the doubt and wait six weeks? What's the rush?"

"I don't trust them," Stacy replied.

"You don't trust demons?" John asked. "If I were drinking I'd be blowing liquid out my nose right now. In all the time I've known you, you've never been a spaz. Actually your so laid back I thought you were dead most of the time."

Stacy was now triggered. Something John said set her off and now she was manic. One of the worst parts of her bi polar diagnosis. "They were supposed to land the plane, not crash it. That wasn't part of the plan. Now everyone will know about Lucifer."

"They would have known anyway," John stated. "The hijacking would have been all over the news either way."

"Still, I didn't agree to a plane crash. We need to go find Lucifer now! And I'm going to punish those two lying bitches."

"Snap your..."

"Don't tell me how to be God," Stacy snapped. "I'm perfect and I don't make mistakes. If I want to tromp half way across the US to find the being I let loose and drag you with me that's what I'll do!"

John gently bit down on his lower lip letting her vent subside. "Tromp it is," John replied and pushed his mop bucket back into the housekeeping closet. "I'll need to pack my bags and get some gas. Do you have your bags packed?"

"Yes," Stacy replied.

"You do realize I drive a 1982 Oldsmobile Firenza," John stated. "With no working air conditioner."

"Of course I knew," Stacy replied.

"I bet," John sneered and walked through the kitchen door to the commons area where Stacy was waiting. He led her out into the hallway that led to the apartments and turned towards the front door passed the reception desk. On the wall was a television screen with a news report. John stopped in his tracks when he read the headline on the screen. It read, 'Jesus returns in plane crash,' with an image of Lucifer standing in a field, dressed in white robes talking to reporters. To his side were two white women, dressed in business attire watching him.

Stacy stopped behind John and her jaw dropped. "Holy fuck," Stacy said. "I told you I couldn't trust them."

"Turn up the sound," John yelled to the receptionist with the remote.

The sound level raised and the reporter asked Lucifer, "Where have you been for the last two thousand years?"

"Oh no," Stacy said.

"I've been with the father," Lucifer replied. He looked like text book Jesus with his brown beard and shoulder length hair.

"And why have you come back now?"

"I have come to judge the living and the dead," Lucifer replied.

"Now we're fucked," Stacy said.

"You didn't anticipate this?" John asked.

"I knew I should never have let him go," Stacy replied devastated. "What have I unleashed?"

"Let's go, I got to do some laundry before we go."

# Chapter 18

# Dr. Anderson

Lucifer stood at the glass window looking down from his ninth floor hotel room at the half million pilgrims that flooded the city overnight. He was still dressed as Jesus but now holding a cell phone in his hand. "What kind of magic is this?" Lucifer asked his two lady demon companions.

"It's a cell phone," Lynnrelle replied. She sat in a cushy recliner admiring her nails. "You can make calls with it."

"I don't understand, what do you mean 'make calls?'" Lucifer was out of the loop. Two thousand years hanging in Stacy's basketball court was a long time to be away from society, culture and the advances of technology. "And what of this structure I am in? Only the tower of Babel reached such a height."

"Things have changed a lot, you'll get used to it. Right now you need to figure out what to do with that crowd outside waiting for you."

Lucifer stepped closer to the window and looked out at the sea of bodies as far as he could see. "They await the Tribulation," Lucifer said. "Fools."

"Yeah, but there's a problem, they expected a Rapture first and that didn't happen," Zelltia replied. "There are a lot of Christians out there that are pissed."

"What am I to do about it?" Lucifer asked.

"You're going to have to say something eventually."

"No, I don't think so. I think I begin my judgment when I please. I wasn't planning to rapture anyone in the first place. And as far as I'm concerned the Tribulation has already occurred. Look at this shit hole the world has become."

The hotel wasn't the best hotel around but it was the tallest and that's what the authorities wanted. They needed a place they could make secure and place Jesus as far away from the crowd as they could without placing him in jail. The accommodations were still the best Lucifer had in the last two thousand years and before that he ran around in the desert and in hell which had its drawbacks.

Then the door opened and three men entered the room. Two of them were dressed in suits and the other in a modified suit with a purple robe top. They approached Lucifer and bowed to him. "You're excellence, we request a word with you," the man with the robe stated looking at Lucifer's feet.

"What is your name? And who do you represent?" Lucifer asked.

"My name is the Reverend Alfonso Durbin, from the United Methodist church of Orlando Florida."

"What is a 'United Methodist?'"

"It is a Christian denomination," Durbin replied.

Lucifer was confused but he didn't want to let on. "Fine, what is it you want from me?" Lucifer asked. "And stand up straight, I don't want to see your scalps."

The three men stood up and faced Lucifer avoiding direct eye contact. "We are relaying a request from a local news network for you to go on air to discuss why you have returned."

Lucifer looked to Zelltia for help.

"Who will be hosting the program?" Zelltia asked from across the room.

"I think it will be Janice Becker," Durbin replied. "She's very good."

"What time?" Zelltia asked.

"Whenever you chose."

Lucifer shrugged his shoulders and deferred to Zelltia again.

"We'll talk about it and get back to you. Leave your number on the table," Zelltia stated pointing to the table.

Durbin pulled out a pen and wrote his number on a napkin pulled from his robe pocket and set it on the table. He bowed and stepped back and the three men left the room.

"Explain to me what they want," Lucifer stated.

"They want you to go on television and explain to the viewers why you're back," Zelltia replied.

"What is television?"

Lynnrelle pointed to the flat screen on the wall and said, "That's television."

Lucifer stepped over to the flat screen and watched a man looking back at him speaking with no sound. On the bottom of the screen text appeared and changed frequently confusing the Lord of lies. "Why does he speak but not say anything?"

"The volume is down, or somebody muted it," Lynnrelle replied. "They have it on closed caption."

Lucifer turned around and walked back to the window. "Look at all those people," he stated. Almost sad. "I almost feel bad that I have to kill them all."

"Why?" Zelltia asked.

"Seems like a waste," Lucifer replied.

"Are you having a change of heart?"

"No, I'm not myself yet. Hanging in that dungeon for all that time, and then the plane crash has screwed with my mood. I'll get over it."

"I see your point," Zelltia replied. "I don't think you should give the interview until you're ready. Maybe chill for a week."

"A week?" Lucifer asked with a grin. "You think I will be back to my old self in seven days?"

"God did a lot in seven days," Lynnrelle said smug.

"Oh, you didn't just say that did you?" Lucifer asked. "How dare you compare me to the fucking bitch."

Lynnrelle was scared. She didn't mean to piss of Lucifer but now she had to find a way to defuse the situation. "I didn't mean anything by that, I was kidding."

"Kidding, you think I'm a joke?"

"Of course not," Lynnrelle replied with a reserved smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Lucifer sat down in cushioned chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. "I could use some wine."

"Coming right up," Lynnrelle said and scurried off to the bar.

Lucifer picked up a magazine from the table next to his chair and looked at the cover. A picture of Brad Pitt looked back at him with the title of the magazine at the top. He dropped the magazine back on the table and looked around the room. "Much has changed."

"Yes, I agree," Zelltia replied. "You take your time."

"Call that man back and tell him I will be ready by tomorrow, afternoon."

"Are you sure?"

Lucifer took the drink from Lynnrelle and drank a long sip. "You question me?"

"I was looking out for you," Zelltia replied. "I'll call him in a minute."

"I need to get up to speed. Where can I learn quickly about the current times?" Lucifer asked.

"YouTube," Lynnrelle replied. "You can find anything there."

Lynnrelle was startled by a rapping on the door and got up to answer it. "Back so soon?" she asked as she approached the door. When she opened it she was greeted by a Florida State Trooper and a large man in a tan sweater, curly brown hair and glasses. He wore a name badge hanging from a lanyard that read, Dr. Peter Anderson, Department of Psychology, Florida University. The Trooper's name was C. Benson. Sgt.

"May we come in?" Dr. Anderson asked. He had a short reddish brown beard and freckles. "I need to speak to Jesus."

"Let him in," Lucifer said. He didn't bother to take his eyes off YouTube on his phone. He was watching a video about tall buildings.

Dr. Anderson stepped over to Lucifer followed by the trooper and sat down in a chair across from him, the trooper stood by keeping an eye on the man dressed in robes with the cellphone. "Hi, my name is Peter, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

Lucifer now knew how to run the YouTube app on his phone and pressed the pause button and set the phone on his leg. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to record this, "Anderson stated retrieving his phone. He pressed the audio record button and set his phone on the coffee table. "For the record, what name do you go by?"

"My name is Jesus Christ," Lucifer replied. He was droll in his delivery. Almost British.

"May I ask how old you are?"

"Over two thousand years give or take a decade," Lucifer replied.

"I see," Anderson replied. "Are you the same Jesus Christ that claims to be the Son of God? The same Jesus that was crucified under Pontius Pilate, died and rose from the dead?"

"Yep," Lucifer replied.

"Do you have any way of proving that?" Anderson asked. "We get a lot of people claiming to be Jesus."

Lucifer raised his hands and showed the doctor the wounds in his wrists and palms. "Does that satisfy you?" Lucifer asked.

"It's a start," Anderson said. "I'll need more than that."

"May I ask why I have to prove myself to you?"

Zelltia spoke up. "Is he under arrest?"

"No," the trooper replied.

"Is he a suspect in a crime?"

Again the same reply.

"Then why the questions?" Lucifer asked.

"Because there are a half million people outside this hotel and the interstate is bogged up for twenty miles in both directions with cars stalled out trying to get in."

"Why is that my problem?" Lucifer asked.

"Technically it's not, but if we can clear this up maybe we can disperse the crowd and get this under control," Anderson replied. "I want to make sure you are who you say you are. Do you understand?"

Lucifer took a sip of wine and set the glass back down on the table. "I am who I say I am."

"I'd like to get a doctor in here to get a blood sample if you don't mind," Anderson said.

"What good would my blood do for you? You make no sense to me at all," Lucifer replied.

"With the blood sample we could do a quick DNA test and see where you originated from," Anderson said.

"I was born in Bethlehem."

"You don't look like you were born in Bethlehem, you look like you were born in Oslo Norway," Anderson replied.

Lucifer looked to Zelltia to bail him out.

"If he's not under investigation I will have to ask you to leave," Zelltia said. "Jesus is under no obligation to prove to you who he is."

Anderson sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "It will just take a second and we'll be on our way."

"Did you not hear my friend here? Leave me," Lucifer demanded.

Anderson looked over to the trooper hoping he could somehow help. Jesus was under no obligation to give a blood sample and Anderson knew it. It was a longshot but he felt he needed to try to maintain his reputation. "Can I ask you a few questions instead?"

Lucifer paused and closed his eyes. "Sure, go ahead," Lucifer replied.

"Great, can you tell me anything about your ministry in Judea?"

"It was hot most of the time," Lucifer replied. "And it was a long long time ago."

"But you must remember something," Anderson pleaded.

"You're question is too broad, narrow it down a bit," Lucifer said.

Anderson thought for a moment. "Tell me, did you actually walk on water?"

"Of course I did. I had to catch up to my disciples who were caught on the sea in a windstorm."

"How were you able to support yourself? I mean on the water without sinking?"

"You---like Peter, have little faith," Lucifer replied. "That fucker almost drown."

"Fucker?" Anderson asked. "Is that a word you commonly use? I mean, Jesus didn't speak English."

"I'm God, I can speak any fucking language I please."

Lynnrelle spoke up, "Maybe it's time for you to go, I think the Lord is getting tired. And he has to get ready for a television interview tomorrow."

"We still have the issue of the crowd," Anderson stated.

"They have come to worship their Lord and Savior. What's so wrong with that?" Lynnrelle asked.

"There isn't enough portable bathrooms in this city for all those people. And their getting into fights and soon they will start setting fires like the assholes they are. If I don't clear this up the city will be a God dammed military zone."

"Go on television and let everyone know they will have their answers tomorrow. You can do that can't you?" Zelltia asked.

Anderson shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "What else can I do?"

# Chapter 19

# The Interview

The television crew set up two chairs in the hotel room next to the large window to take advantage of the natural light for the afternoon interview of Lucifer. They put in a fill light for shadows cast by the window but nothing more was needed, the backdrop of the crowd through the window in the background was epic. There were five video cameras set up, two for headshots of Lucifer, and the reporter, one for a wide shot of both, another for the crowd below and a hand held as a spare.

Zelltia bought new robes for Lucifer and had his personal set washed so he could decide how he wanted to look. The television producers preferred the old robes rationalizing that new robes wouldn't convey the image of what people thought Jesus would look like. It would be the same effect of giving him a haircut and a shave and they didn't want Jesus in a new suit.

Cables ran from the cameras and microphones to a small switching station set up in the bedroom where the director could cut from shot to shot. The interview was going to be broadcast live like most sports programs, only there would be no sports action today. The woman in charge of the interview was the local news celebrity Janice Becker who had anchored the local news for over twenty years. She was a stout woman with shoulder length dirty blonde hair, dull green eyes and a face like a pug.

The time for the interview arrived and Becker took her spot facing the window. Lucifer took his seat with his back to the crowd with a fill light aimed at his face off camera from above. They were both fitted with lapel microphones, one clipped to Becker's suit jacket and the other to Lucifer's old, but clean robe.

After a quick microphone check Becker was counted down from an ear monitor and spoke to the camera introducing the interview. "Hello, my name is Janice Becker and as you all know today we are interviewing a man who claims to be Jesus Christ. You are all aware there have been many men over the years who have claimed to be Jesus so you might be asking why we would be interviewing this man in particular. The answer to that question is that we first found out about this man he was a survivor of a plane crash that killed the pilots and all the passengers except for him and two others. In the last twenty four hours over a half million people have flocked to Orlando to see for themselves the man they believe to be their savior. He has agreed to an on camera interview. Thanks for agreeing to talk to us. For the record, may I get your name?" Becker asked.

"Jesus," Lucifer replied.

"Can you tell us why you were on the Boeing 767 flight that crashed?"

"I was on my way home when the plane was hijacked, I think that's the word they used."

"Hijacked by whom?" Becker asked.

"One of my servants."

"Servants?" Becker asked. She was confused and thought maybe she misheard. "Can you tell give me a name?"

Lucifer pointed to Zelltia. "It was her. Zelltia."

Becker looked over at the woman sitting on the couch off camera. "Did you tell anyone this? The police? The NTSB?"

"I didn't think it mattered," Lucifer replied.

"People died!"

"People die all the time. I needed to be home."

"Did she do this at your request?" Becker asked.

"She did it on her own."

"Where's home?"

"I hear it is near a city called Montgomery, somewhere in the south," Lucifer replied.

Confused, Becker asked, "That makes no sense, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, not Montgomery. Can you explain why you think you are from Alabama?"

"No," Lucifer replied.

Becker was confounded and her wrinkled face showed it. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts and approach this _'so-called'_ Jesus in a different way. "Can someone get me a bible?" Becker asked looking off camera at one of the crew. "Never mind, I'll use my phone," she stated and dug her phone out of her pocket. She poked the screen quickly ever mindful of the cameras and how long she was taking. In frustration she set her phone on her lap and said, "Jesus is not from Montgomery, you're a fraud."

"Who are you to judge me?" Lucifer asked. He didn't like to be called out. For once he wasn't lying.

"I know enough from my upbringing and church to know Jesus wasn't born in America."

"Look at my face, my skin. I am as white as you, like the images you have in your art, in your churches. How can you say I'm not who I say I am?"

"You are not the Son of God," Becker stated flat.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me," Lucifer replied with a smile. His stoic attitude changed to joy to Becker's surprise.

In her earpiece Becker heard the producer tell her to look out the window behind the man claiming to be Jesus. As she looked upon the massive crowd below she could see herself on gigantic big screens on the sides of buildings. She could also see fires in the street filling the sky with black smoke. Something sinister was going on and the crowd was moving like a carpet of angry ants to her shock and dismay. The producer told her she had angered the crowd and there were people trying to get into the building. They suggested she end the interview early and try to escape by helicopter at the top of the building. "Bullshit," she said on air and asked Lucifer, "Prove you say who you say you are. If you are Jesus where was the Rapture? That was supposed to occur before Jesus returned. And what about the Tribulation?"

"I will give you rapture if that's what you want. As far as the Tribulation, I have watched your news programs on the television in my room, I have read the magazines left on my table. If you can't see you have been in the Tribulation for years you are blind. Wars, famine, false prophets, corrupt politicians, do you not see you have been in the midst all this time?"

Becker couldn't think of an immediate reply. She shrugged her shoulders in frustration and picked up her phone."

"You won't find answers on your device. You know I'm right," Lucifer replied.

"You may have a point about the Tribulation, but not about the rapture."

Lucifer stood and walked to the huge glass window and looked at the crowd below. The cameras tracked him the best they could not realizing he would leave his chair. On the huge screens below the image of Lucifer cast to the crowd below as he raised his arms to his side and looked up to the clouds.

From out of the clouds figures flew down from the above each with wings that guided them closer to the building. As they came closer into view the cameras began to track a few individually and to everyone's horror they were bright red in color, horned with glowing yellow eyes and red tails. Lucifer had brought down demons from the sky to rapture the believers below into hell.

The crowd began to scatter as one by one people were lifted whole into the sky to be torn to shreds by demons; body parts and blood rained to the ground on those who tried to escape. More and more demons flew down to the crowd and more people were pulled into the air and ripped apart. All broadcast on national television to millions watching at home.

"What are you doing?" Becker screamed as she stood.

Lucifer turned slowly to face her one on one. "I'm giving you what you wanted."

"Those are demons!"

"What is a demon but a fallen angel?" Lucifer replied with a grin. "Don't worry, you will be raptured as well, give them time."

"No," Becker stated pointing her finger at Lucifer. "I've accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior!"

"So?" Lucifer asked.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him..."

"Shut the fuck up," Lucifer stated. "Your God does not love you."

"You're wrong!"

"I know God, we've met. She hung me up in her basketball court for two thousand years like a trophy. She ignores your prayers and finds joy in your suffering. She does a better job of being me than I do."

"You're delusional," Becker said.

"You're just pissed because your shortcut to heaven won't work. You are going to hell because you are a sinner. I know, I know about all sin, I have to make room in my house for righteous people like you every day."

"I know I'm a sinner, but Jesus died to take away my sins. You're not Jesus," Becker barked back.

"Then who am I?" Lucifer asked.

Becker hesitated to reply.

"Say it."

"You're Satan," Becker stated.

Lucifer put his arms back down to his sides and gave off a little laugh. "Let me tell you a little thing about yourself and where you will spend eternity."

Becker didn't say a word.

"Early in your marriage you had an affair that resulted in a pregnancy. You decided an abortion was the proper way to handle the situation and caused the death of an innocent child to benefit yourself. But that wasn't all, later you decided to defraud your grandparents of a large portion of their retirement savings that left them poor until they day they died. Nobody ever found out about your theft and you did nothing to help them later in your career when you were making a better income. So what do you do? You turn to Jesus and ask for forgiveness of your sin. To wash it away like nothing ever happened. You believed in Jesus so now you think your adultery, murder and theft all goes away like a commuted sentence, you have no responsibility whatsoever. Would you concur with that?"

"How did you know?" Becker asked.

"I have my sources," Lucifer replied. "The problem is that you were lied to. Your sins were never forgiven, you wear them like the cancer they are. There never was a Jesus. There was me, and nobody can lie like I can. Yes, I'm Satan, and there are many rooms in my house, one with your name on it. Janice Becker."

"Jesus is real!" Becker yelled.

"Do you really think a God would have a human child? How absurd. That would be like you having bacteria for a child."

"We were made in his image," Becker stated.

"Don't be so literal. You were allegedly created in his moral, spiritual, and intellectual nature, not as a physical being. God has no physical structure other than what she wants you to see."

"She?" Becker asked. "Why do you keep saying she? He is the father."

"Her name is Stacy and she doesn't give a shit about you. I told you, we've met."

"According to what you've said there is no real difference between Jesus and you. And that can't be right. Jesus is perfect."

"I told you there is no Jesus, just me. I was an imposter that unfortunately paid the price. But you do have a point that there is only a fine line between Stacy and I. We are more alike than you realize. I am joyful for human suffering, she is annoyed by it. She needs to be worshiped at all times, I could give a shit. She is an immature child God, I am a rock star. Look at the crowd that came to see my show!"

"Rock star? You want to be worshipped more than God. Your own words betray you," Becker snapped back.

"Touché," Lucifer replied. "Maybe so, but she holds all the cards---always has. I could never attain the level of adoration she desires. I was cast from heaven because of my jealousy of her, but I will never attain the sickening cult of worship she created for herself."

"They came to see Jesus!" Becker yelled. "Not you!"

Lucifer laughed and turned back to the window to admire what he had done. Most of the crowd had dispersed but body parts littered the streets below in their wake. In the distance he could see demons swooping down, picking up believes and shredding them as they ran. "What a joyful day," Lucifer added.

"God will win the war you created," Becker said. "And we will have a thousand years of peace. Like it reads in the book of Revelations."

"If Jesus isn't true, then the New Testament is also not true. You're book of Revelations was written by a mad man, not a prophet. The problem with you humans is that you believe everything you hear. You believe rumors over truth, fallacies in the face of facts, and deny what you can prove with little effort and research. It's as if you prefer to live in a fantasy land. You believe Jesus was the Son of God when your bible scripture clearly states, 'You were shown these things so that you might know that the Lord is God; besides him there is no other."

"The bible gives us comfort and right now we could all use some," Becker stated.

"How do you find comfort in suffering? Murder? Slavery? And in the subjugation of women?" Lucifer replied. "All those are the attributes of your God, condoned and acted upon in scripture."

"God is perfect, he can do no wrong," Becker replied.

"She is far from perfect and has killed far more of you than I have ever. Yet you chose to worship her. All I wanted was to be like her, is that a crime? No, it's the psychotic mindset of a jealous God who needs her ego stroked on a minute by minute basis. When I attempted to take that away from her she had me crucified and hung up in her mansion. Trust me, I know the will of God, far better than anything you will find in your bible. The error filled uninspired word of Stacy."

# Chapter 20

# Escalade

John and Stacy pulled over at an interstate trucker's rest stop five miles from Nashville for something to eat and found a nineteen fifties style café complete with fake leather booths and an ornamental juke box. Behind the counter in the kitchen area short order cooks paced quickly filling orders and at the register people lined up to pay their bills. The room smelled like bacon and eggs and other than the three big screen televisions mounted on the walls looked like something from John's childhood.

The sign taped to the entrance door read to seat themselves and they did. They found a clean booth near an ice cream sign advertising shakes and malts for five dollars with purchase of a meal. John loved chocolate shakes and couldn't wait to order one, Stacy didn't need to eat but picked up a menu anyway. Both noticed there was a buffet bar but decided to see what was on the menu first.

The name of the café was the **'Nashville Trucker Café."** The name didn't sound very original but it was descriptive. From their view they could see a long line of semi's parked outside in neat rows and a group of trucks filling their tanks under a huge green and white canopy.

"A waitress walked over to the couple and asked them for their drink order. She was a black woman and sewn above her left breast apron pocket was a symbol John recognized immediately. It was a black circle surrounded by a larger white circle symbolizing ownership. She was the café owners slave and she looked like she'd worked there forever. "God is good," she said pulling her pen from her apron pocket. And she meant it.

"God is good," John replied without thinking. Then he remembered who he was sitting across from and smirked at Stacy. I'll take sweet tea," John said rubbing his brow.

"Same," Stacy added. "And God is indeed good," Stacy added with a grin, almost flirting.

"Do you want to order from the menu or do you want the buffet?"

John set down the menu and asked, "Does the chocolate shake deal come with the buffet?"

"Of course," the waitress replied with a smile. "Do you want it first or after you eat?"

"Before," John replied and handed his menu to the waitress.

"How about you honey?" the waitress asked.

"I just want a chef salad with ranch dressing please."

"Crackers on the side?"

"Yes please," Stacy replied and handed her menu to the waitress. With a smile the waitress sashayed back to the counter and handed the order to a cook.

"We have like eight hours to drive yet, do you think we should get a hotel?" John asked.

Stacy looked at her watch, it was already afternoon and she was tired of driving already. John's Firenza was far worse than she anticipated but would not consider getting a better car no matter how much John nagged. She could part the Red Sea but she wouldn't create a better car.

"We could rent something," John said watching Stacy adjust herself in her seat. The sweat from her lower back stuck to the slick fake leather but were far more comfortable than the rock hard plastic seats in John's car. Her complaint was she didn't want be bothered with paperwork and going to a rental agency.

"I don't want to rent a car---stop asking me," Stacy grumbled. "And can you believe she called me 'honey?"

"Turn my shit car into a Cadillac and your butt will feel much better," John stated. "I'm melting in there with no air."

Stacy closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the leather behind her. It felt great on her spine. "Alright, a Cadillac it is," she said and wiggled her nose like Samantha from the television show **Bewitched**.

John now saw a 2019 Cadillac Escalade parked where his Firenza used to be, it was painted Dark Adriatic Blue Metallic and rose above the cars parked near it. "Nice," John responded slowly nodding his head. "You need to put plates on it, I don't want to get pulled over."

In an instant John's old plates appeared on the SUV.

Then John saw a group of people walk over to one of the televisions mounted on the wall by the magazine racks. The screen read, 'Breaking News," and in full color high definition the image of a street covered in bloody body parts caught his attention. He saw a crawl that read 'Orlando' but couldn't read the fine print. "Check that out," John said pointing to the screen.

Stacy looked up and her eyes locked on the images running across the screen above the heads of the crowd. Everyone was stunned and people began to panic. "That mother fucker," Stacy said.

"You, didn't know about this?" John asked pointing back to the screen.

"I know I'm supposed to but we've discussed this."

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Lucifer has unleashed his version of the rapture from what I can tell. You see those demons?"

John tried to see what Stacy was talking about but from his vantage point only saw little red blurs on the screen. Then he heard a woman scream she had seen the devil. A man turned up the volume and the sounds of a newscaster reached them.

"We are witnessing a crisis of biblical proportions," the newsman stated. He was manic in his presentation and speaking off camera as the images of demons rapturing continued. "A man who claimed to be Jesus has unleashed an army of demons who are at this time killing everyone in their path. It is unclear at this time if the man in question is the actual Jesus Christ or a demonic imposter. All we know now is that we estimate over two thousand people have been killed and the carnage continues. We will keep you up to date as news breaks. Stay tuned to this station," the newscaster stated and a commercial for diapers appeared on the screen.

"I don't think we should go to Orlando," John stated. He was scared shitless.

"Oh no he didn't," Stacy said. Her voice was filled with rage.

"You didn't expect this?"

Stacy didn't reply.

"You had to have known if Lucifer got out he would do something like this."

"I should never have let him go, what was I thinking?" Stacy replied. She hung her head and placed her palms on her forehead.

"We can't all be perfect," John stated.

Stacy looked up and replied, "Is that some sort of joke?"

"I'm trying to make you feel better. We all make mistakes."

"Not me," Stacy replied. "Now I have to figure a way to get him back and Orlando is crammed full of people."

"You know I never understood why you allowed Lucifer to exist in the first place," John said. "I think you're more evil than he is for letting him loose on the world."

"Yeah, but he does make a great scape goat," Stacy replied.

On the screen a shot from a helicopter showed people turning around on the interstate and leaving the Orlando area as fast as they could. In a mass panic the crowds that swarmed the area were now abandoning Florida altogether.

"We can't stay here long, they will be here soon and we'll be stuck in traffic."

"Don't you want to wait for your food?" Stacy asked.

John looked to the counter and saw all the wait staff and cooks were gone and people were stealing food off the buffet. "I'll get something from the vending machine. I hope you put gas in the Escalade.

Afternoon changed to evening and then as night approached John and Stacy found an abandoned camp site behind the cafe and decided to stay for the night. The interstate was full of people trying to leave and to get to Nashville in a panic. Gas stations ran out of gas with people waiting in lines for hours expecting a shortage and stores looted till shelves were barren. John managed to steal enough food from the café to fill three large plastic bags and he raided a cooler full of liters of soda.

Under the stars John and Stacy gathered as much wood, garbage and combustible material to get a good fire going. They used an existing fire ring piling up sticks, leaves and all they could find in the nearby garbage cans. With a flick of a lighter John lit a fire at the base of the pile and stood back watching the flames trickle upwards casting smoke in the air above.

"We could use some sleeping bags, a tent and two cots," John said. He watched the yellow light bounce on Stacy's pasty white face.

"I draw the line at the Escalade. I'm not some sort of vending machine."

"You want to sleep on the ground? You ever slept on gravel before? And when the fire dies down it gets cold at night," John replied.

"I created the Sun, you don't think I know what cold feels like?" Stacy replied.

"Just saying, I can sleep in the cab, you can sleep out here."

Around the fire ring was a larger ring of cement seats people could use to gather around the fire and roast marshmallows, or drink or whatever they wanted. The heat from the fire felt great on their fronts, but their backs were already feeling the fifty degree temperatures. "How does it get so cold down here? We're in the south for God's sake," John complained.

"When the Earth rotates, the Sun..."

"Never mind the science lecture," John snapped. "Aren't you cold?"

"I've had worse," Stacy replied.

"So what are you going to do about your friend Lucifer? Are you going to continue to let him rapture whoever he pleases?"

Then Stacy's phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and shoved it into her pocket.

"Why are you so annoyed? I thought you loved being prayed to?" John asked.

"It hasn't been this bad since I flooded the Earth. You should have heard them then."

"What an asshole."

"Wha?"

"You murdered everyone on Earth except for Noah and his family. What a bitch."

"They were wicked!" Stacy snapped back.

"So were you!" John barked. "You're just lucky they couldn't drown you back."

"You're taking that out of context," Stacy replied. She was pissed.

"No---I don't think I am," John replied. "People use the 'out of context' excuse when they are losing, and you are losing badly. You're a fucking bully and you know it."

"Bully?"

"And sociopath, and narcissist, and abuser, and a child," John stated as fact.

"You try growing up with no parents and she how you end up. I was also an only child," Stacy replied. "They didn't have Adderall when I was a kid."

The thought of God as a child perplexed John. "You were a kid?"

"Maybe, I don't remember it all, that was a long time ago," Stacy replied.

Then they both heard a rustling in the brush to the north. "What was that?" John asked.

"I'd tell you but it would ruin the story," Stacy replied.

"Fine, might be a coyote, or a wolf."

"Might," Stacy replied. But it wasn't and she knew it.

Then John saw three pairs of glowing yellow eyes coming towards him and stood up. "Holy fuck, do you see what I see?"

"Sit back down," Stacy said.

John slowly sat back down and watched the glowing eyes as they approached. The closer they came the more John could make out until he saw something he had never seen before. On the opposite side of the campfire stood three demons cast with a yellow red hue from the flickering campfire. Two males and a female stood fast, both nude, bright red with large powerful wings in a resting position behind them and a tail that hung down from behind.

"Lord, we wish council with you," the lead male demon stated. He was the tallest, and brightest red in color.

"What's your name?" Stacy asked.

"Filo," the demon replied.

Stacy paused for a moment. "Ok Filo, what's on your mind?"

"Do you want this---human to hear our conversation?"

"He's with me," Stacy replied.

Filo hesitated and was nervous speaking to God. No other demon he knew of ever did. "We request your assistance," Filo said stumbling on each word. "You are the only one that can help us."

"Spit it out Filo," Stacy said. "I don't have all day."

"It's Lucifer, he's snapped like a twig. Not calm and cool he used to be back in the day. Something has come over him and now he acts like a megalomaniac. He is power hungry and has upset the demon world"

"What do you want me to do about it?" Stacy asked reading prayers from her phone.

"We ask that you take him back."

"That was sort of my plan to start with, but the plot thickens."

"I don't understand, you're God, it would be nothing for you to put an end to him," Filo pleaded.

Stacy knew Filo was correct but she wasn't willing to give in. The more she thought about the situation the more of a plan evolved in her mind. "What about this?" Stacy asked. "How about Armageddon?"

# Chapter 21

# Alexus

Morning came and John woke in the back seat of the Escalade. As roomy as the rear seat was he still felt crammed in and uncomfortable. He sat up and looked out the window and didn't see Stacy, just the ashes from last night's campfire.

"How did you sleep?" Stacy asked. She was crouched down in the front passenger seat playing with her phone.

"My neck is stiff," John replied. "Otherwise I'm fine."

"Are you going to ask me how I slept?"

"You sleep?" John asked.

"On the seventh day I rested, remember?" Stacy replied.

"I didn't think that meant sleep. Rested sounds like you read a book or something."

"Nope, I slept like a baby," Stacy replied.

John dug around in the bags of food they stole from the café looking for something to drink. He pulled out the liter bottles of soda and noticed they were all regular and filled with sugar. As a mild diabetic he monitored his sugar intake and never drank anything but diet soda." Fuck, we have to go back," John said.

"You should have grabbed bottled water," Stacy replied.

"Thanks doc, maybe you should have said that when were still there."

"It's only a hundred yards to the café, dump these out and use the hose to fill them with water."

John was tired and groggy and didn't want to do anything. "Fine," John said and hopped out of the back of the truck. "Did you see where those demons went?"

"Back to Orlando I suppose," Stacy replied.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm still chewing on it," Stacy replied.

The trip back to the café was short but interrupted when John saw a man with a whip striking a black woman who was lashed by her wrists to a light pole in the parking lot. She was nude from the waist up and her apron was blood stained. John pulled up near the light pole, parked and got out of the Escalade. "What the fuck are you doing?" John asked. He was livid at what he was witnessing.

"She's being punished," the café owner replied. "She let them steal me blind."

"Let who?" John asked.

The café owner looked at the soda bottle in John's hand. "Did you pay for that?" the owner asked.

Hesitant to answer John put the bottle back in the truck.

"It's no use hiding it, I saw what you did."

"I'm sorry, I was scared," John replied. "But it wasn't her fault."

The waitress hung her head down as far as she could with the bar ties holding her hands securely to the pole. She managed to stand upright but it looked like she her knees would buckle at any moment.

"I'll pay for what I took," John said with a peace offering. He was horrified at what the wounded waitress looked like. "Are you alright?" John asked her.

"Don't you be speaking to my property," the café owner snapped. "I can do with her what I please."

John raised his right hand to calm the man with the whip. "I understand the law," John said, "But I think your taking this out on the wrong person. She didn't do anything that anyone couldn't do. There were ten, fifteen people taking stuff. She couldn't have stopped us if she tried."

"That's just it, she didn't try. She ran off into the back room and hid. Like a coward," the owner stated.

"Where were you?"

"What? Are you questioning me?" the owner asked. "I have slaves to take care of my business. I paid good money for them."

"I'm sure you did. But this needs to stop before you kill her," John pleaded.

"I don't tell you what to do with your property," the owner replied.

"If I were beating my dog I bet you would put a stop to it."

"I would. A dog is a valuable animal," the owner replied. He was getting anxious and pissed.

"You don't consider her valuable?" John asked.

"Obviously not."

Then John had an idea. "Can I buy her from you?"

The café owner stepped back and grinned. "What the fuck, you think you can buy your way out of this?"

"Maybe, how much do you want for her?"

The idea of selling the slave angered the café owner. He already had plans for her to die and now this thief wanted to interfere. "How much do you have?" the owner asked.

The wallet in John's pocket had as much cash as he would ever need. It auto filled. "I have two hundred dollars," John replied. He picked the number at random.

"I paid twice that for her," the owner replied.

"And you damaged her. The price should go down."

The café owner didn't like being reasoned with. What John said made sense but he was still angry from being looted and wanted someone to take his anger out on. "Let me beat her for another half hour and I will agree to your price."

"She'll be dead by then," John replied.

"What about her? Does she have money?" the owner asked pointing to Stacy.

Stacy was doing what Stacy always did reading prayers from her phone. And reading the prayers from the beaten slave girl was getting to her. "You need to back off," Stacy said. "Put down the whip."

The owner took offense to Stacy's demand and looped up his whip like he was getting ready to strike again. "Say again little girl." the owner replied with a grin.

Stacy stood fast and didn't repeat herself.

"Tell your girlfriend if she wants me to stop she needs to take my whip," the owner stated.

"She's not my girlfriend, or my wife. Just a friend," John replied.

"You're friend has a mouth."

"Leave me out, this is between you and her," John stated.

"Fucking women," the owner replied. "The bible is clear on man's authority over women. It says, 'Now I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man."

Now Stacy was really pissed. "You know a man wrote that don't you?" Stacy asked.

"Inspired word of God," the owner yelled as he held his arms up to the sky. "And God never makes a mistake."

"I made at least one that I can think of," Stacy replied.

"What do you mean?" the owner replied.

"Oh no, now you've done it," John said with a grin. "This is going to be good."

"I really fucked up when I made you," Stacy said. "Not like Hitler, or Stalin or those other fucks, but the mold was cracked before I poured you in."

John stepped back to the Escalade and set the water bottle down. "What are you going to do?"

"I think our waitress friend here might have an idea," Stacy replied. "What is your name?" Stacy asked.

The woman stood up and faced Stacy. Intuitively she knew exactly who she was speaking to. "Alexus," she replied. "And no, I don't want revenge upon this man. He knows not what he is doing."

The owner spoke up, "Oh yes I do," he stated and pulled back the whip to strike. He let loose the end as hard as he could but the whip did not find its target. Instead it fell flat to the ground without hitting Alexa at all. He reeled the whip back and slung it at her again with the same results. "What's going on?" the owner asked. "I've been hitting her all morning."

Stacy spoke up, "If you don't want revenge do you mind if I do?"

"I ask the Lord to show this man forgiveness."

"Wow, I give you a lot of credit," Stacy replied.

"Jesus wants us to forgive," Alexus replied.

Stacy didn't want to burst Alexus's bubble explaining that Jesus was a Catholic construct and didn't really exist but her intentions were noble none the less. "But that gets him off the hook."

"Jesus died for the forgiveness of our sins," Alexus replied.

Stacy now felt the need to school Alexus on one thing. "Do you think it's alright for someone to remove your sins? I mean your sins are your responsibility. I can see someone taking the punishment for your sins, but to remove them is altogether different."

"Jesus loves us," Alexus replied.

"I'm sure he did," Stacy stated in a figurative way. "But how does giving you a free pass make you a better person? If your sins are taken away then you are free to sin again, and again. It is pointless."

"I don't understand," Alexus replied.

"The man you call Jesus was murdered for claiming to be the King of the Jews. He pissed off all the wrong people and was killed for it. Later on the revisionists claimed he died to take away your sins. That sounds a lot better than he died because he was a power mad lunatic, plus he was the leader of a death cult. Why do you think he preached to give everything away? He thought the end of the world would happen in his lifetime. And in a way it did."

"I still want no punishment for this man," Alexus stated.

"You want me to forgive him." Stacy stated. She knew Alexus knew who she was.

"Yes."

Stacy stepped out of the Escalade and walked around to the front of the truck as she thought.

The café owner then said, "Why is she asking you for forgiveness?"

"Because I'm God dumbass," Stacy replied with a growl. "And this woman is the only thing between me raining fire and hail on to you or letting you go. I would prefer the former, I like a good burning hail storm now and then. Improves my mood."

The café owner now realized why his whip never hit its mark. He dropped to his knees and offered the whip to Stacy. "I'm so sorry," the owner stated. He was in tears.

"Don't tell me, tell her," Stacy replied pointing at Alexus.

The owner turned to Alexus. "I didn't mean anything," he stated pleading for his life.

Stacy removed the bindings from Alexus and allowed her to turn and face the man who beat her but was now on his knees begging. Alexus's blood was drying on her skin and turning brown on her apron. "Whipping me didn't mean anything?" Alexus asked.

"That's not what I meant, please, don't let me die!"

"I forgive you," Alexus stated.

"Hear that? She forgives me!"

Disappointed, Stacy shrugged her shoulders and sat back in the Escalade. "You are so lucky, you don't know how lucky you are."

"I'll get some bandages," the café owner stated and ran off to the kitchen to get some.

"Do you have any clothes?" John asked.

"Not with me," Alexus replied. "I don't usually bring extras to work."

"Can you do something?" John asked Stacy. She was annoyed at all the conjuring requests from John but in light of the circumstances produced a set of clothes from the back of the truck fit for Alexus.

"How did you know?" Stacy asked.

"I am an empath," Alexus replied. "I felt something yesterday when I was serving you, but today I was certain. I could feel it in your words." Alexus walked over to Stacy and took the shirt and pants. Stacy turned Alexus to see her wounds and touched them. Instantly Alexus was healed.

John said, "I thought only Jesus did that."

"Not that hard," Stacy replied. "

Do you have a way home?" John asked Alexus.

"This is my home," Alexus replied. "He keeps all his slaves in the basement."

"Are there more of you here?"

"No, the others managed to escape. He grabbed me before I could leave," Alexus replied.

"So you have nowhere to go."

"Other than here? No," Alexus replied.

John looked to Stacy. "What do you think?"

"We're going to Orlando to end this for good," Stacy replied. "You're welcome to come along."

"Thank you for the offer but my place is here in Kentucky. As backwards as that sounds I am a free woman thanks to you and I would like to live," Alexus replied.

"What if he tries to make you a slave again?" John asked.

Stacy replied, "When he does he will become a pillar of salt, and he will---bet on it."

# Chapter 22

# Armageddon

John pulled the Escalade around to the front of the café and stopped looking out at the dark looming clouds off in the distance. The hot day had turned into a potential storm with a low pressure zone moving their way. In the distance he could see tiny snaps of lightning in the clouds and a few hitting the ground. "We're in for a storm," John said. "This could be a real shitty drive."

"What else can we do?" Stacy asked. "Lucifer won't stop."

John didn't like driving in bad weather and tried to come up with a different plan. As he was thinking something popped into his head. "I have a question."

"Shoot," Stacy replied.

"If you were to compare you to Lucifer, in a visual sense, how would you compare?"

"I don't understand."

"Let's say for example that you were the size and the energy of the Sun, what object would Lucifer be in comparison to you?" John asked.

Stacy thought for a moment. "There is no comparison. The object would be so insignificantly small that you couldn't measure it."

"Let's say you're a galaxy, then what?" John asked.

"The same."

"Alright, at what point would you be able to make a measurement of Lucifer? How big would you have to be?"

"The problem lies in your question," Stacy replied. "There is no way to compare us size and power. You're comparing apples to oranges."

John leaned into his door and turned to face Stacy. He was seriously curious. "Then why do people think you're the same?"

"Same?" Stacy asked.

"Have you ever seen paintings showing you and Lucifer in the same scene? I saw one of Facebook where Jesus was arm wrestling Satan. Just like they were evenly matched."

"Maybe Jesus and Satan are evenly matched. I know I'd take Lucifer without trying," Stacy replied.

"Do you get what I'm talking about? People think that Lucifer is the adversary when according to you he is nothing more than dust in the air. Figuratively speaking," John said.

"I've seen that on Facebook," Stacy replied.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Like I said, all that stuff is Jesus stuff. I don't bother with Jesus stuff."

"But these people have been brainwashed to think you and Jesus are the same thing. And this Holy Ghost I've never met."

"Genesis 1:2 does mention the 'Spirit of God' so I'll give you that. But the Holy Spirit is not a different being than I am," Stacy replied.

"No Jesus, no Holy Ghost, just a sixteen year old girl with an obsession with her phone. Crazy," John said.

"Stop stalling and get on the road, we have evil to dash," Stacy said playing with the radio.

"Wait a second," John said. "No bro country. And I have another question."

"You're stalling again," Stacy replied. "You can ask me while we're on the road. It will help pass the time."

On the horizon the dark skies grew larger and thunder filled the air. For as far as John could see on the skyline was ominous dark clouds and rain showers pouring below. "I bet there are tornados in that storm."

"Drive around them, let's go," Stacy replied.

John pressed on the gas and the Escalade moved out of the parking lot out onto the service road. From there they paused at the stop sign and moved out onto the interstate. They were the only vehicle in any direction. "This is creepy, we're the only SUV."

"Everyone else panicked and ran away, to where who knows. Look at it this way, you won't have to bother with asshole drivers. And you can probably go over the speed limit, no cops."

"I'm glad one of us sees it that way, do you want to drive?" John asked.

"I don't have a license," Stacy replied. "So what's your question?"

"Oh yeah," John said gathering his thoughts. "Why do you let bad things happen to good people? Or put another way, why do you allow evil?"

"Good question. I think I've got that one a million billion times."

"So you must have an answer," John replied smugly.

"Yes I do. Evil is not something that needs to be allowed, it just happens. Same thing for why bad things happen to good people. There is no rhyme or reason behind it. There is no plot, no scheme, it's like the wind and it blows as it pleases."

"So you're saying you have no power to stop it?" John asked.

"It's not a 'stoppable' thing. Evil has no mind. What part of this don't you understand?" Stacy asked.

"So when a parent prays to you about their child stricken with cancer you allow it because evil is like the wind?"

"Don't worry, nobody gets it."

"Then why don't you explain it? People think Lucifer causes evil and that you allow evil because you allow Lucifer. Can you see why people think that way?"

"That's on them. Lucifer was a friend of mine until he tried to be me. Is that evil? Not really, I am a jealous fuck," Stacy replied. "I believe Lucifer has been given a bad rap over the years after the bible was established. He's kind of become an evil folk hero."

"If that's the case why was he rapturing all those people in Orlando?" John asked.

"He was probably pissed I hung him up in my basketball court for two thousand years. He couldn't take his rage out on me so he took it out on poor defenseless humans instead. I bet he's over it by now anyway. In all the time he's been around this is the first time he's acted out like this."

"How many times has he claimed to be your son?" John asked.

"Just that one time," Stacy replied.

"Why not before?"

"Before that you humans were a bunch of apes. Who would claim to be the son of an ape?"

"Humans were never apes," John replied.

"You acted like them," Stacy replied.

"Why don't we just let this blow over? Like you said, he'll eventually calm down."

"Could take a while."

"Define a 'while,'" John said.

"Could take a thousand years," Stacy replied.

"Or two weeks?" John asked.

"Maybe."

There was no way he and Stacy were going to take on Lucifer and his army of demons and idea of driving to Orlando to take him on seemed absurd. The more they drove the more John thought about how Stacy refused to use her God powers against Lucifer and expect him to save the world. "You know if you don't do something this is pointless. I can't take on Lucifer myself."

"I have an idea," Stacy replied.

"Really, when were you going to let me in on it?" John asked.

"Now," Stacy replied.

"Go on."

"I'm going to form an army of angels to fight his army of demons," Stacy replied.

"Like in Revelations?" John asked.

"Is that New Testament?"

"Yes, you know it is, stop being an ass," John replied. "Tell me how you plan to fight this war?"

"Well, I think I'll get a squadron of fighter jets and the angels will fly them."

"Wait, angels have wings."

"Yes, but they don't fly six hundred miles an hour," Stacy replied like a bitch. "And they don't have heat seeking missiles."

"Have you been watching Top Gun?"

"Yes, I like that movie," Stacy replied. "And I want you to be the lead pilot like Maverick."

"I can't fly a plane," John stated. "What's wrong with you?"

"It will be spectacular, an army of Lucifer's jet planes versus an army of my jet planes fighting over Orlando. There would be explosions, machine gun fire, missiles blowing up each other's planes, buildings being crashed into and all sorts of mayhem."

"Sounds like you want to make a movie," John said.

"I'm sure there will be a movie made of the battle," Stacy said. "I will try to get Tom Cruise to play you."

"Tom Cruise is like sixty, I'm thirty three."

"He doesn't look his age. And I don't think he's that old."

"So when are you going to do all this?"

"When we get to Orlando," Stacy replied.

"Uh huh," John replied. "God is good," John stated in sarcasm.

"No, God isn't good," Stacy replied with a smile.

The End

# Afterward

The section that follows was written by the author of this book. The section after was written by a pastor I met with before I started the writing process of this novel. I asked for his feedback on the first ten chapters of the book. The conversations we had over coffee led to many of the themes discussed in the story.

If you're a Christian I can only assume you didn't make it this far in the book, but if you had the courage to make it to the end I would like to take this opportunity to explain how this book came about. First and foremost I, the author of this book am an atheist. I have probably been an atheist all my life but my earliest recollection of questioning God came before my teen years. The one memory I can almost place a date on was when as a child the boys in the church were brought back to the priest chambers in order to start the 'Alter boy' indoctrination process. The memory isn't perfectly clear, it was a long time ago, but I remember the priest saying that anyone that didn't want to be an Alter boy could leave. I couldn't run out the door faster. I don't recall my parent's reaction at the time but I think they knew even then that my presence in the church was not by my own choice.

I hated church, the overly dramatic Catholic mass and all the bullshit that went with it. Fr. Murphy, his dry Irish accent and all the horrendous organ driven hymns. It was like something out of a nineteen seventies satanic horror movie. There is still a statue in that church of St. George slaying a dragon to the left of the Alter and it's been there since I was a kid. I had to look it up but the dragon is supposed to represent the Devil. Why not put in the Devil instead of making up some bogus fictional animal? I guess it's good marketing for kids. I was in the church taking pictures for the cover of this book and it was really odd being back there after all those years. They now have a twenty foot high full body Jesus crucifix hanging behind the Alter. Creepy. With a bit of digital manipulation, it is the Jesus on the cover.

I've been attending the local Presbyterian Church to quell my wife so we can fit in and look like a traditional Midwest church going family, but even as liberal as they are I found myself rolling my eyes during the sermon and eyeing the exit door at the end. I still couldn't wait to get out. I can remember my parents dragging me to Catholic mass as a child and finding the experience absurd, even at that early age. I have told my wife that no one I know thinks the way I do about a lot of things and this is an excellent example. I don't think I could believe in a God, or Jesus Christ if I had too, and I've tried. None of it made sense to me at all.

One of my most fond memories of my youth besides Star Wars was probably seventh grade science class. I can remember this game Mr. Barker would have where the half the class would stand on each side of the room and he would have a science trivia game between sides. This was forty odd years ago but I can still remember being the last student on my side of the room taking down the entire other side and winning. I love science, it makes sense to me.

This has led me to be a closeted atheist all my life, or at least the latter part. There was a time in my life when I enjoyed debating God and religion with anyone who would oppose me. I never had a difficult time destroying religious arguments because the majority of them were beyond absurd. I studied the scriptures to arm myself with the knowledge I needed to counter attack anything a Christian would throw at me. I especially liked throwing Deuteronomy in the face of Christians. I won't go into scripture here, as a good Christian I'm sure you know what I'm referring to. I ended this practice one day when I realized that arguing with my father over religion was nothing but self-aggrandizing and belittling my father. I found at one time he had considered becoming a minister.

So years passed, the age of the internet arrived including Facebook and my past comes crashing back. Online Christianity bothers me to the point of anger and reading the endless posts of, **"Sending prayers, Thoughts and Prayers, and Prayers** ," at the bottom of every post related to a tragedy sent me through the roof. In the modern day of social media, the culture is to be as lazy as possible, type as little as you can about sending a prayer and hitting the send button. None of those people lift a finger to help anyone, they just type like sheep and move on.

This led me to reach out to a local Lutheran pastor and ask his opinion on the status of modern Christianity. We met several times at a coffee shop (where nobody could hear us) and discussed the problematic issues I had with fake Facebook Christians of the modern era. Many of those themes made it into the book you just read. The book itself is a collection of discussions we had along with other ideas that I have issues put into a 'docudrama' format for easy reading.

Among the issues we discussed that made it into the book was my idea that God is a twelve year old girl who only cares about herself and reads prayers on the cellphone. I changed her age to sixteen but the premise is the same. The God of the bible only cares about the God of the bible and being worshiped by the beings he created. (Notice the lower case) He does not respond to prayers and allows his creation to suffer in order to garner more prayers. Like a junkie on prayer crack.

I'm fairly sure that turning the _God of the bible_ into a female will offend many Christians but the personality pattern fits all too well. The God of the bible is jealous and immature. You can read it for yourself or listen to your preacher when you go to church. This is not an issue of contention. Maybe I'm wrong but I don't find most adolescent males to act in such a way and don't think for a second that I am sexist. I have had many discussions with my wife and other females who agree that the attributes of God are more of that of a jealous female than of a male. Most guys will punch the other and move on, females play games.

Another theme in the book is the use of texting prayers, or posting " **Thoughts and prayers**." I have tried to interject on Facebook when I see people post " **Prayers** ," only to be ripped apart for my non-Christian attitude. In my view prayers are not something to be packaged and 'sent' via Facebook but something to be acted upon directly to God. Don't tell me you're praying, I don't give a shit, pray to your God and shut the fuck up. If you want me to know you're praying you're doing it wrong. In **Matthew 6:5** it states, " _And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full_." Facebook is the modern day street corner.

Another theme in the book is what would happen if the Christian right really could have their way after separating themselves from the rest of the US. Would gays, atheists and women who had abortions be riotously murdered in the name of God? I think yes. The more hate I read online the more I think it is possible when you consider the atrocities that occurred in the past. In the book, **The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined,** author **Steven Pinker** argues that our society is becoming less violent which seems counterintuitive to most. And according to **Reason.com** the last time the US declared war was when, _"The United States declared war on the Empire of Japan on December 8, 1941, a day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor_." It may be my age, or the new culture of the internet, but it seems to me that people are far more aggressive online than they would ever be in the line at the grocery store.

People say the meanest, cruelest things without batting an eye to a stranger they will probably never meet. I compare this to a road rage incident where one driver will run over another in a fit of rage because they cut them off in traffic. Without cars it's hard to run someone over let alone cut them off and without the ability to hide behind your phone online rage doesn't exist either.

Don't get me wrong, people are assholes and will walk across the street to murder their neighbor for the most inane reasons, but I think modern social media has escalated the behavior a hundred times. People will sit back and watch online arguments and post memes exclaiming how entertaining the fights are. Then you read about how one went too far and people ended up dead. It's the same for school shootings, they were far less frequent before the age of social media and this is a theme I try to tackle in the book as well.

I'm not a Christian historian, and I don't claim to be an expert on scripture. You can even go as far as to say I cherry picked out scripture out of context to fit my narrative. I'm not the first or the last to do it and I'm sure it occurs at the pulpit in most churches every Sunday. I do find a lot of scripture absurd and have discussed this at length with the pastor during our coffee sessions.

I ask about Noah and his ark, I ask about Jonah and the whale and all I get is that these are not literal accounts of history but allegories and metaphors to teach us how to live. I've been accused of being black and white with absolutely no grey in-between, (and I admit to that whole heartily) but I don't think you can put those stories in the bible and say they are not the literal word of God. I call bullshit.

I think **Ken Ham** and his cult **Answers in Genesis** is one of the largest modern bullshit factories around but I think he's doing the right thing according to his beliefs and interpretation of the bible. That might sound absurd, but he's not backsliding and promoting a watered down version of the bible and Christianity. He claims a young Earth six thousand year timeline, that dinosaurs were on the ark and that the world wide flood in Genesis actually occurred. Good for him, he's following what the bible says and stands by the word.

He may be bat shit crazy to think that any of that word is true, and for all I know he may have some sort of mental problems, but then don't most of us to some degree? I claim anyone that stands at a pulpit and spreads the word of the bible is under some sort of indoctrinated delusion. I don't blame people who are raised into a religion for what they believe---at first. But as we get older and wiser the truth should come out. Those who believe in Santa at forty are doing it wrong, and that goes the same for a living God named Jesus Christ. I will have to interject here that the idea of a God having a human child is so absurd to me that even as a child I knew it was wrong.

I saw nativity scenes, I was read the story of Mary and Joseph and saw the displays at church and at the retail store and never understood how anyone would believe it. I felt very alone in my lack of belief back then and still do to a certain extent. I can't put my name on this book because of my profession. I work for a Faith based healthcare system that promotes all the bullshit that I reject. I can't risk losing my job over something that should be so obviously wrong that anyone should be able to see the truth.

But at meals I'm expected to read devotions, at my last job I was expected to read bible verses at the morning meetings, (it was also a faith based healthcare business,) and I did. I read them right off the page and slid the bible back down the table. I am as closeted as any homosexual. I see crucifix and cross tattoos displayed proudly on believers and shake my head. I want to get a Darwin fish or the atheist symbol on my arm but I might as well put a target on my back.

I know there are far more atheists in the world now than are reported. But because of religious discrimination we all play along, most of us. I attended a speech at a Unitarian church where noted atheist speaker **Seth Andrews** was giving a talk. Before his presentation I spoke with a woman who told me she lost many jobs because she was an outspoken atheist. Or should I say ousted, I don't know her exact history other than she was far more brave then me. The church where the presentation was held was sixty miles from my home and I figured no one from my town would be there so I had no problem attending. If I would have seen someone I knew I would have probably hid in the back or left. I don't know. The presentation was good, although Seth didn't discuss much about atheism, mostly about the evil of social media. I bought his book and a mug and keep the mug in my kitchen on a shelf on display. Thanks Seth for all you do.

So this book was my way of venting, it was cathartic to me to put my frustrations into story form. I hope you enjoyed the journey of Pastor John, The Reverend Josiah Aldridge and God herself Stacy. If you do please share the link so others can enjoy it as well. I do plan to do a short run of paperbacks but they probably won't be available on Amazon, I use a Smashwords instead.

God fears the atheist because without belief, God does not exist.

.

