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.

March of The Pigs: PART I

The sun was setting when Mac looked up at Jude, who was covering him from the scaffolding with the other Riflemen. The Crazies had yet to attack The Compound, which had sent mixed feelings throughout entire camp. No one was excited for the assault, but the fact that it hadn’t happened yet made everyone a little edgy.

“What the fuck, man!?” Mac cried up to Jude.

Jude smiled slightly and checked his scope again. In the distance, on a pile of debris, sat a coyote. The beast stared at him for a few seconds, then stood and scampered away, as if something nearby had spooked it.

“Hold on… Might have something!” Jude cried, still peering through his scope.

Across the dead environment, darkened forms began to appear. Slowly, the shape leading the pack came into focus, allowing Jude to get a good look. Cable stopped to survey the area, wanting to get a good look at The Compound one last time before he erased it from existence.

“It is time… Go…” He whispered to the other Family members.

The Crazies, armed with clubs and sawn-off shotguns, charged towards The Compound. Jude, who was still watching in amazement, snapped himself back into the moment and shouted down to Mac.

“Here they come!” The young man cried.

“I see em!” Mac answered, readying his AR-15. “Get ready up there! Those bastards won’t stop until their hearts do!” Mac yelled, firing a bullet.

The metal projectile spun towards the target – A tall Raider sporting a top hat. It entered his left eye, passed through his skull, exited the back and struck another attacker, a female in pigtails, in the shoulder. She flailed about violently, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Got that motherfucker!” Shouted Mac.

Jude took aim with The 56 and blasted another Family member in the throat. The savage choked for a moment, trying to continue, but eventually succumb to the wound and collapsed.

On the hill, Cable watched as his first few troops fell. He smiled, and adjusted the hood masking his face. It was a small price to pay for victory. The Family knew the risks, so Cable thought nothing of the deaths. Mac pointed to one of the groups of Crazies making their way towards the fence. A Riflemen took notice and fired a slug into the IED, which exploded into hellfire, killing at least seven of the assailants. Mac howled at the site of charred remains, his bloodlust at its peek.

The leader of The Crazies was surprised by the merchant’s ingenuity. He had assumed there would be a short scuffle and that’d be that, but these Cro-Magnons had planned ahead – This would be an interesting battle. More Family members were signaled to attack, and even with the IEDs in place, the advancing army seemed to be gaining on The Guerillas. Mac watched the first raider begin the climb to the top of the fence and hurried to the switch that supplied the power, but when he pulled down on the large control, nothing happened.

“Shit! The fucking fence is out!” Cried Mac with dread in his voice.

Jude heard the commotion and poked his head over the metal walkway to look down at Mac.

“What’s up?” Jude called.

“The Gene isn’t workin!” Mac returned, flipping the switch again.

“Well, go see if you can get it up and running! I’ll cover you from here!” Jude fired back, aiming at The Crazies about to hurdle the chain link and firing.

The raider’s body went limp as the bullet passed through her torso, and toppled to the group in a heap. Mac bolted for The Generator Shed, the sound of impending doom echoing behind him. He neared the large metal door and began rolling it to one side. Inside, The Titan was running at full power, but somewhere in between the generator and the fence, they had missed a step.

Cable laughed and watched one of his soldiers, Walker, reach the other side of the defenses. It was only a matter of time before they engulfed the merchant camp. Victory was sweet on the tip of his tongue. Tonight, The Family would feast.

Jude could see a small horde of Crazies advancing towards The Generator Shed and called out for Mac, only to realize he couldn’t hear him over the roar of The Titan. He quickly began to decent the ladder next to him, and as soon as his feet touched the ground below, he raced straight at the crowd outside the shack. Jude continued to cry out, all the way up until a lone attacker, waiting in the shadows nearby, struck him over the head. The world went squiggly for a moment, bouncing around like a ball and then sank into a pitch black slumber.

Kicking Against The Pricks

Jude wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow and slung them onto the cement floor near the generator. He hadn’t taken a break since his return from Patrick AFB, and the strain of working was starting to take its toll. His back met the wall behind him and slid down until his bottom was resting on the ground. Stella pushed at his hand with her nose and took a seat next to him. She had forgiven him for leaving her behind, and whimpered signaling she wanted to be petted. He scratched behind her ear, causing her back foot to twitch slightly.

“No rest for the wicked, right girl?” He sighed, then climbed to his knees and retuned to the tedious mending.

Outside in the yard, Mac was planting the last IED in position. The devices littering the area outside the fence that surrounded The Compound were created by a Guerilla named Neville. The simple yet effective design consisted of two key elements – A coffee can that housed various projectiles, like nails and handfuls of 9mm rounds, and a propane tank which was buried in the ground up to its handles. The canister was taped near a painted on X close to the nozzle of the tank, which would act as a target for guards positioned around the entrance during the assault. If The Crazies got anywhere near one of the tanks, a shot from a rifle would send them flying through the air in pieces. Even if they were lucky enough to survive the blast, they wouldn’t make it very far with spike-riddled legs.

Mac dusted his gloves off and stepped back to survey their defenses. Hopefully, all this preparation would be enough to keep the enemy at bay until the snipers could do their job. Crazies were tough, but they were by no means invincible. Mac had plugged a few between the eyes during a previous attack and they had gone down rather quickly. The Wastes were a dangerous place, but if could put shell into an enemy’s skull from 200 yards, you’d be alright.

“All finished, boss” Announced Jude trotting up from behind, his shirt dirty with grease and sweat.

Mac turned to the boy and smiled warmly. It was all coming together and he was beginning to think they actually stood a chance.

“Fantastic! I knew I could count on you, Switch!” He chuckled loudly. “Now that you’re finished, I got a surprise for you” He added, placing his arm around Jude’s shoulders.

The two of the made their way towards a old Heavy Oshkosh 8x8. Around the back, standing between two opened cargo doors, was a young woman with curly reddish-brown hair and grey eyes.

“This is Lucille Ford, our weapons expert” Mac explained, making her blush.

“I’m hardly an expert, Mac! I just hand out what they ask for” Lucy joked. “Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard good things” She said shaking Jude’s hand.

“Figured you could use a new weapon. That rifle you’ve been toting around looks like its been through Hell and back” Mac said, jumping up into the back of the truck.

Jude loved his rifle almost as much as he did Stella, but Mac was right. It had been damaged so many times that it was almost entirely held together with duck tape. It was a little embarrassing to be seen with, and had jammed on more than one occasion. Jude climbed up after Lucy and Mac. The inside walls of the truck were blanketed with different firearms. Everything from pistols to shotguns to chain guns hung on hooks like prime cuts of beef. Jude wondered if there were any guns in existence that The Paragon Convoy didn’t carry.

“Holy shit” Jude muttered to himself.

His eyes scanned the area, stopping on each weapon for only a second. There were so many, and the whole experience was almost a bit too much for him.

“Need some help picking out a new gat?” Asked Lucy, who had moved closer to Jude. “What kind of rifle do you have now?” She questioned, stepping in front of him.

Jude thought for a moment, but couldn’t think of the make or model. He had just always called it a rifle because no one had ever asked about it before.

“I’m not sure…” He mumbled, still sweeping the wall with his eyes “It’s an older bolt-action rifle with a hunting scope… It’s brown…”

Lucy giggled and turned to the shelf behind her. She stood silently for a moment, humming a bit every now and then. She finally turned back to the two men, who were still ogling the cache.

“You know, I got this rifle that I’ve been holding onto for some time now” She said, brushing a strand of hair from her line of sight. “It’s a bit more advanced than what you’re used to, I think… But you might really click with this gun” She explained, walking passed them.

Lucy removed an RPG from atop a large steel trunk and lifted the lid. She returned to Jude with a small metal case. Jude took it slowly, looking it over in confusion.

“Umm… What is this?” He asked, holding the case in front of his face.

“Open it, dumbass” Lucy exclaimed and motioned to a nearby workbench.

Jude approached the surface and placed the cold metal container down flat. His thumbs slid across the edges and stopped on two switches. With a flick, it was open and Jude raised the lid slowly. There, in front of him, were several silver pieces, encased in a foam packing. Lucy smiled and pulled the case towards her.

“This is a M89SR-56” She explained as she began assembling the rifle. “Israel used these bad boys a lot during The Tel Avivian Conflict. Well, they used similar snipers against The Korean Empire… This one is special” She added snapping the stock into place. “This is a modified version of The Model 89. Still got all the basic functions…” Lucy said holding it up.

Jude marveled at the weapon, almost drooling with excitement.

“It’s a gas operated semi-auto, based on the old American M14 and can shell out .308s like nobody’s business, but that comes standard. The 2056 is equipped with a light carbon-fiber frame, an extended cartridge clip, shortened barrel with flash suppressor, pistol grip and a custom telescopic sight” She said handing him the 56.

Jude held it at a distance, gazing at the shiny chrome finish. When he snapped out of his stupor, he smiled.

“Where in the world did you get this, Lucy?” He asked in astonishment.

“Yeah… I’m actually curious too. This is far better than anything you’ve handed out before” Said Mac, looking at the rifle.

Lucy chuckled at little.

“I picked it up from a dealer a few years back. Only been fired twice, so I figured it was worth it. I’m not big on rifles myself, but it is an impressive piece of machinery. I’ve been saving it for the right person… And that’s you, Jude” She said and handed him a box of ammo. “If he’s gonna be watching us from above, he needs to be able to hit those fuckers and drop em with one shot. My ass is on the line too” She explained to Mac.

Jude raised the sight up to his face and peeked through the red tinted lens. In the distance, he could see a squirrel running through the yard. This was an amazing gun, and if it could take down The GKE back then, these raiders didn’t stand a chance.

“Thank you, Lucy” Jude said softly from behind the scope.

“Well, just make sure you put it to good use. Even if we didn’t have to worry with The Crazies, you’ve earned it… It’s been yours since that Titan started humming again” She said with a grin.

Mac stepped over to the opening and looked out over the camp.

“So now we wait” He muttered coldly “Gene is up and running, hooked up to the fence… So when the time comes, I’ll flip the switch and bake those animals”.

He was speaking more to himself and seemed to be off in his own universe. A lot had fallen onto Mac’s plate in the last month and Jude felt for him.

“Wait… I’m attacking from above, you said?” Jude asked, breaking Mac’s trance.

“Yeah. You’ll be up on the main gate’s scaffolding with the rest of our marksmen” He called over his shoulder.

“You haven’t even seen me shoot! I mean, I’m alright… But I wouldn’t call me a marksman! Are you sure it’s wise to place your life in my hands?” Jude exclaimed, worried that too much faith had been placed in him.

Mac smiled slightly, built on what seemed like seriousness with a dash of gloom and doom.

“Well… You got me through Patrick in one piece, so I guess I’m just gonna let it ride” He joked quietly.

Across town, in an area locals called The ICU, preparations of a different kind were taking place. Several Crazies sat around a campfire, chewing on bits of meat they’d raked off a passerby. One of them, a wiry woman with blonde hair, spat a bad chunk of flesh onto the ground nearby and scoffed.

“All eyes sayin is, we ain’t gotta be listenin to Cable no more if’n we don’t wanna! We’s way stronger than him! Hell, I could run the family!” She announced to the others, who seemed to be ignoring her. “Dats fine! I see how it gonna be! Fuck yall then! I’ma take care of it on mah own!” She yelled, standing and throwing her piece of traveler into the fire.

The others, who at first looked upset by the waste of food, soon looked passed her in fear. She froze, watching her companions gaze right through her.

“What are you going to take care of, Abby?” A quiet voice said from behind her right ear.

The words shook her to the core, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer. The words were muddled in her throat. From the shadows came a tall, lean man with a crooked frame. His face was hidden beneath a hood which had been sewed onto his long grimy duster.

“Cable… I uh” She said, pausing when the figure chuckled slightly.

“My dear, there is no need to explain. I heard it all, and you’ve clearly made up your mind” The man whispered in his thick Cajun accent, moving his coat aside with his black gloved left hand to reveal a tattered belt.

From a small pouch, he drew a rusty straight razor, which he flicked open with the yellow cracked thumbnail of his right hand. With tears in her eyes, she attempted to apologize, but her words became garbled with blood as the blade passed gently across her neck. As she collapsed, a few thoughts fluttered about in her mind. The first fleeting brain wave was of her mother, whom she hadn’t seen since age 19. The second pertained to the sharpness of Cable’s razor, since she had always assumed it was dull. The last piece of consciousness was comprised of flashing images of her tribe beginning to devour her body seconds after she hit the ground. The bastards hadn’t even waited for her heart to stop beating.

While The Family feasted behind him, Cable looked towards The Compound. Tomorrow morning they would launch their attack, taking Paragon down once and for all. Glancing back over his shoulder at the massacre, he sighed. When she first joined him, Abby had been a promising candidate for Queen, but the fool let her need for power blind her to the truth. Cable had started The Family, and when the time came, he would be the one to end it. He was the Alpha and Omega, and if any opposed him, they were missing the big picture – They were a waste of space and had to be made an example of. Licking his blade clean, Cable returned it to the pouch and made his way over to the campfire, where he’d also partake in supper. When their bellies were full, they extinguished the inferno and started the trek towards Jude and the others.

How High The Moon

“There! That should do it!” Exclaimed Jude, marveling at his own work.

He didn’t usually toot his own horn, but the radiation suits had come out quite well considering they only consisted of a few rolls of lead sheeting, two painters jumpsuits and a couple of motorcycle helmets.

“You actually did it” Mac said from behind in a surprised tone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in the boy, protection from a nuclear warhead just wasn’t something folks would usually associate with the term DIY. He wasn’t complaining though. They had to reach those Titans and Patrick AFB seemed like their only option. The two carried their suits, which weighed a ton, out to Jude’s jeep. They’d take the interstate north since all the local streets were swarming with hoodlums. Though they had waited until nightfall, when even the damned had to find time for beauty sleep, they still took the chance of running into trouble if they stayed in the city for longer than absolutely necessary. As Mac topped off the gas tank with what little fuel they could scrape together, Jude explained the situation to Stella, who was clearly upset by her master’s departure.

“Stay. Alright? Stay here and I’ll be back soon” He stated firmly, signaling for her to lay down.

She would comply at first, but as soon as his back was turned, Stella was following again. He couldn’t be upset with her, she rarely left his side. Finally, Jude placed Stella inside The Generator Shed and locked the large metal door. Her cries of concern for her boy’s wellbeing were ear shattering, but he had to help The Compound if he wanted to reach Avalon. She’d thank him in the long run in her own way, which to a canine probably entailed some kind of slobbery kiss.

The duo loaded up into their ride, and made one last equipment check. Since the suits weighed so much, their arsenal was severely limited. Jude would carry a Geiger counter and a large bag of tools he’d need for removing the components of The Titan, and Mac would provide protection, armed only with a Modified Baikal-442. It wasn’t his initial selection, but the Makarov’s clip housed 12 rounds and was simple to operate. It was exactly what he needed while dressed in the uncomfortable shielding. Jude had argued that a weapon wasn’t crucial since the levels in the area were far too high. Ignorant Raiders, who would probably mistake uranium for rock candy, would be too busy dying of rad poisoning to even notice the beings wrapped in foil stagger about nearby. Mac had dealt with the gangs in Palm Bay though, and assured him that a little radiation wouldn’t prevent them from trying to get their hands on Jude’s sack of goodies.

The majority of Interstate 95 had remained intact in this region, unlike further down south where sizeable fragments of rubble blanketed miles of roadway, making travel to The Keys virtually impossible. The expressway was relatively safe, much safer than city streets, and only offered one real threat - Poorly planned scavenger traps. Usually involving homemade spike strips, the stingers could be spotted miles away, and wouldn’t be a problem on this short journey. As they barreled towards their exit, Mac slid a tape into the old consol. Loud hair metal broke the silence of the chilly Haust night, letting Patrick AFB know it had visitors on the way. Jude, who had never been a fan of classical music, gave Mac an unimpressed grin.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like Quiet Riot, kid?” He chuckled, turning the volume up.

Not long after Mental Health’s second chorus had kicked in, the music abruptly stopped. They had reached the base and parked about 100 yards short of the giant hole breaching the outside wall, that had been left by the raiding group. When Jude looked down at the Geiger counter, the small needle already twitching. It was time to change into the suits, which only took them about five minutes. After the bulky outfits were on securely, they began their approach. As they neared the opening, Jude almost tripped over some remains.

“Must have been running when the bomb went off” Mac explained, motioning in the direction the outstretched skeletal arms were pointing.

They continued through the entrance, stepping carefully over piles of debris. Across the yard, they could see what was left of The Space Coast, a crumbling husk of cement and metal. Jude stopped at The Visitors Center and returned with a small pamphlet that contained a overhead layout. He scanned it for a moment, then looked up and pointed off in the distance.

“There it is” Judah called to Mac, who was waiting a few feet away.

He nodded at the boy and followed him towards the large clinic. The outside walls were grimy, but the building itself had no visible damage. Jude slammed himself against the main double doors a couple of times before Mac grew impatient and told him to step back. He fired off three rounds, shattering the glass and giving them an opening. The lobby was dark, so they stuck close to the walls.

“Watch the floor… Could be holes” Mac warned, holding onto Jude’s shoulder.

The Wastes were not a place to wander about. More travelers lost their lives to carelessness than Raider attacks. At the end of the long hall, Jude could see a large map of the clinic and quickly found The Generator Room. It wasn’t too far from their current location, and they reached the entrance quicker than expected. A leisurely march down collapsing stairs brought them to The Titans, that had stayed hidden and untouched, just as they had hoped. Jude got to work immediately, removing key components and stuffing them into his bag. The whole process took only twenty minutes, but this was still too close for comfort.

“I’m done! Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Jude called, rushing to Mac before climbing the stairs.

Once they had reached the yard again, the fear of a slow radioactive death seemed like a distant memory. They were in the clear now, and laughed as they raced back to the jeep. After a speedy sweep with the counter, they were sure all was clear and started the trip back to The Compound. The two stayed in high spirits the entire ride home, but as camp came into focus, reality slapped them in the face again. All this celebrating was premature, and they remembered the severity of their current situation. The generator had to be fixed by tomorrow evening, and preparations for The Crazies assault needed to happen as soon as possible. The last few miles were spent in silence, partly because the two were planning quietly, but a small portion of concern was definitely present, stalking menacingly in the shadows of their minds. The Compound had a long day ahead.