Touched By The Hand of God

Screams outside woke the boy before his mother could reach him. When he sprang up and gazed into the darkness of the room, he could see movement. Frightened, he shrieked and covered both eyes with his hands.

“Honey, no! It’s mommy!” His mother informed him, pulling his hands away.

Night Eye had set in slightly and the boy could see a tall figure with long hair. The form quickly pulled his to his feet and cupped a hand over his mouth.

“I want you to listen to me, okay? The colony is being attacked. Dad is already at the main gate, and I’m going to go there too. You’re to go next door and hide with Gwen until we come get you. Do you understand?” She instructed, all the while watching the door.

“But Mommy, I want to stay with you!” The boy cried, his eyes already filling with large tears.

The woman hugged him tightly and kissed him on the top of the head.

“Everything is gonna be fine. I just need you to do as I say… Understand?” She drilled again.

The child nodded and squeezed her tightly. From her pocket, she unearthed a small pistol and placed it in his hand.

“Now go!” She barked and pushed him towards the backdoor.

Outside, the colony was in complete disarray. Several bodies, one of which belonging to a playmate, rested on the dirt a few feet away. He clinched his teeth, fighting to hold back his tears, and raced over to a nearby crate for cover. Once in the shadows, he checked the cylinder of the small revolver. Six bullets rested in the .38 Special and he quietly hoped that they’d remain unused. Gwen, the friend his mother had told him to wait with, lived two houses away.

The backdoor of her home was unlocked and he stumbled inside, frantically searching for his friend without calling out. He soon heard footsteps in the next room, followed by a short gasp and a deafening gunshot. The boy dove under the kitchen table and clutched his knees. Gwen was gone now and the young child, who was only 11 years old, was on his own.

“Search the kitchen” A man’s voice piped from the other room.

With each footstep, the boy grew increasingly nervous. He took aim with the gun and when the intruder’s legs appeared in the room, he fired off a round, shattering the knee bone. The adult groaned loudly and toppled over, allowing the child to get a good look at his face. Staring back at him was a member of The Forge, characterized by his strange armor. In that moment, Jude knew this would be a day he’d remember for the rest of his life.

Another bullet silenced The Disciple, giving the boy enough time to seek shelter in a nearby storage unit. Footsteps and shrill cries for mercy echoed outside, and the young man plugged his ears in an attempt to silence the horror around him. His colony was slowly being cleansed of its sin. This process would go on for eight hours straight. At one point, he dosed off but quickly jerked himself back awake. The amount of terror now pumping through his veins would make sure his eyes didn’t make that mistake again.  Several times, Judah heard Disciples traipsing about near his hiding spot, but thankfully no one ever thought to check in the corroded dumpster.

When the dust settled, Judah buried his parents under an old tree in the middle of town. He attempted to bury others but dragging two adults across the concrete had taken its toll on his young body. Instead, he covered the departed with bits of cloth he found in the wreckage of former homes. He didn’t know any prayers, mainly because The Forge made religion something for the people of Terra Firma to fear.

The history of Forge was limited to what the old timers had told him. After The Great Flash, many tribes became Raiding Parties. One of these, a group calling itself The Forge, appeared in Origin and spread south. They were different from the normal bunch of loonies, and were dictated by a strict code of law, most of which involved the slaughter of anyone who wasn’t a Disciple. A woman name Martine Ricci became known throughout Terra Firma as The Ánuims, ruler of The Forge and a direct connection to what they believed was God.

The Forge spent the next 15 years building a strong following across the wasteland. Those who didn’t comply were “made an example of” and that’s exactly what had happened to Jude’s colony. In years to come, The Forge would lose several key battles against Avalon and Second City, which reduced their numbers from 12,000 strong to around 4,000. Soon, The Forge had almost completely vanished from conversation. Though their followers continued to be seen scattered across Georgia and Alabama, they were rarely spotted in Florida. People forgot about the carnage the group had unleashed upon the masses, something they’d all come to regret years down the line when Jude was a grown man.

After several hours of crying, Judah forced himself to stop. He understood that from this point forward, he had to be a man. The Forge had let him live, and that made him feel as though he was destined to do something great with his life. Sparing him was not by choice – It would be The Ánuims undoing.

He had lost two soldiers and only four stood at attention in the pistol. He gazed down at it, contemplating suicide. Was that what he was destined to do? Was he suppose to swallow a bullet and join his friends and family? Never. If he gave up now, if he took the easy way out, he’d never be able to take revenge on The Forge. Farming, a career that seemed almost impossible to avoid in the future, became a distant memory. Killing Martine Ricci was now his prime objective.

Jude spent the rest of the day gathering equipment. It wasn’t safe to stay in the area because there was a possibility of Disciples returning. He headed south towards The Shore, a region Forge seemed to shy away from. It was notorious for its raiding groups, and even with the strength Martine’s army possessed, the idea of daily squabbles with a seemingly endless amount of deranged Raiders was a bit too much for even the most loyal Disciple. With everything he could scrap together in his backpack, he trekked seven miles before even stopping to rest.

Inside an abandoned gas station, Judah was lucky enough to find a box of fruit gummies and a few granola bars. This was considered a feast for most of the people of Indian River, so he savored each bite. This prompted him to take a moment and breath easy, something he hadn’t done since waking up to the attack. He gazed out a grimy shattered window into the fog, which had built up around the exterior of the store. He’d sleep here tonight and begin his walk again in the morning. It wasn’t any safer during the day, but at least he’d be able to see a raider’s club before it smashed his skull in. It was morbid thinking, however at this point, he had nothing to lose. He’d either survive or end up being with his mother and father, so it was win-win.

Judah made himself comfy in the back room behind the counter. The doors had been reinforced to the best of his abilities. Even though he worked for almost an hour stacking heavy boxes, The Swarm easily forced their way inside. Jude would spend his next year in a prison camp, breaking rocks and waiting for a wealthy socialite to hire him as a slave. Three days before he was to begin his “employment”, The Paragon Convoy would enter the camp to drop off some supplies. This would be the first time Jude crossed paths with a trader from Avalon named Del Osborn.