Left Hand Black - Book 1: The Story of Markus Black

Book 1 - The Story of Markus Black

Book 1: The Story of Markus Black

Chapter 1

The journey of Markus began at the age of 14 when, while riding home on a school bus, he was suddenly transported to heaven. He wasn’t sure why or how, but one moment, he was sitting quietly, keeping to himself, looking out the window of the bus, waiting to go home, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting under a palm tree at the top of a hill, filled with a sense of euphoria, hearing beautiful melodies all around, sitting on soft grass next to a donkey and a sheep, overlooking an ancient walled city.

“What is that place?” Marcus asked.

“That is my new Jerusalem.” God replied.

Marcus couldn’t see God, but he felt him all around. The sensation was exhilarating. It was a feeling he realized he’d always desperately wanted and now, there was nothing else before him. There was no let down. No low. No fleeting glimpse. He was in heaven, talking to God, and viewing the Holy City.

"This is amazing! This is what forever is like." Marcus thought to himself.

Suddenly, Marcus was back on his school bus riding home wondering where that moment, which at the same time was an eternity, had gone. When the bus reached the stop for his neighborhood, he wandered out, confused, disoriented, and not paying attention to where he was going.

Then he walked head first into oncoming traffic.

Chapter 2

“Is it broken?” Tommy, the man whose moving car Markus walked into, asked.

“Is what broken?” Markus replied.

“Your arm. You’re protecting it.”

Markus realized he had no feeling in his left arm and had tucked it under his shirt, cradling it with his right arm. He pulled it out and inspected the damage and saw his left wrist was broken in several places with the bone jutting out. It hadn’t pierced the skin. There was no blood except for a scuff from being knocked down by the car that struck him, but his wrist looked awful. His palm was facing the wrong direction. He showed the man the damage.

“Holy shit! We need to get you to the hospital. That is bad.”

Markus, still disoriented from his heaven experience and his accident, got in the car with the man without thinking about what he was doing or whether this was a good idea.

Chapter 3

"What's your name, kid?"

"Markus Black."

"You from around here?"

"No."

"Where you from?"

"Princeton."

"Jersey?"

"No. Indiana."

"I didn't know there was a Princeton in Indiana. What's it like out there?"

"Lots of cornfields, mostly."

"Like the rest of Indiana, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"How'd you end up in Florida?"

"My dad got a new job."

"Where is he right now?"

"Probably at work. Where are we going?"

"The hospital. So tell me about your parents. Do they love you?"

"This is not the way to the hospital and of course they love me. They're my parents!"

"Do you think they'll miss you?"

"Where are we going?"

"I already told you, kid. I'm taking you to the hospital. But we can't take you to a normal hospital. You're going to need a new left hand, Mr. Black."

Chapter 4

As the car sped off to an unknown destination, Markus stared at his swollen, injured left hand. It was turning a dark shade of purple, almost black. The bones were broken so thoroughly, the fragments of his forearm lined a path to his hand like a twisting gravel driveway. His palm, facing the wrong way, flopped in an unnatural motion every time the car hit a bump. He bled from a wound on his side, presumably pierced by landing on his hip when he was thrown from the accident. It hurt deeply, worse than his wrist. The back of his head was bruised badly and cut. It pulsed with the sounds of the car engine revving.

Where was he being taken, and why couldn't he just go to the hospital? How did he get from his vision of heaven's perfection to this moment? It made no sense. And how was he going to get in touch with his parents? They were certain to be worried. Did anyone see him get hit by the car? Were there witnesses? Would the police track them down? But most of all, he wanted to ask Tommy who the hell he was.

"I'm the guy who snatched you from the right hand of God and reseated you at His left." Tommy said with a wink and a smile. "We have far too few who seat at His left hand. You should feel honored. You will feel honored once you understand what you've been chosen to do, my friend! Right now, you just need to sit and wait a little longer."

Chapter 5

"Should I be scared?" Markus asked.

"Not at all. You've just been given immortality!"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Remember when you were in Heaven and there was nothing before you but God? That wasn't a dream. That is your reality. But with such blessings comes great obligations. You have sacred duties to perform now. You will be at work day and night, but you get to experience God in a way other people never dreamed."

"So the life I knew is gone?"

"There is no time for that life. God has bigger plans for you than to attend some dreary high school in Florida. The universe is opening up to you. Embrace it, Mr. Black."

Markus looked at his hand again. Patterns of swelling and broken blood vessels swirled on the surface in a sort of dying paisley pattern. When he looked into his forearm, he saw graveyards, morgues, and bodies being piled up and tossed into bonfires. He watched human death in every century, throughout time. He saw every atrocity. He saw sickness and disease. He saw old people slowly withered by time. He watched silently and was unmoved.

"Death has no power over a person seated at the left hand of God." Tommy remarked.

The car arrived to a small bungalow on the outskirts of town. Markus had never been here, but it felt familiar as if he'd lived here his entire life.

"Get ready, Mr. Black. We're going to see the doctor to get your arm fixed and it's going to hurt."

Emotionless, Markus stepped out of the car and walked into the building, cradling his helpless, mangled left arm.

Chapter 6

Sitting in the waiting room, Markus could faintly hear music, but it wasn’t a melody that fit any song structure he’d ever heard. There were no scales for these sounds and yet it felt as if his body somehow emanated the same vibrations in harmony except for his left hand which remained cold, swollen, and silent, cut off from the vibrations around. As the rest of his body played along, the left hand withered like a rotting piece of fruit on a hot, muggy day.

The waiting room area smelled like lilacs. Not like old people lilac scent. It smelled like real flowers. It smelled like the floral arrangement of a funeral home. The walls were covered with curtains. The floor was a deep, 1970’s style red shag carpet. And the decor was so standard, so inoffensive, he wondered if he was, in fact, in a funeral home.

A woman in her mid-30’s wearing a pair of hospital scrubs walked in the room. Her hair was long and black. Her skin was olive tone. She was tall and thin and her expression unmoving. She seemed barely animate and utterly humorless.

“Mr Black?” the nurse asked.

“Seeing as I’m one of two people in the room and the only one with a hideously crushed forearm, that makes it pretty obvious, I think.”

“This is Mr Black.” Tommy said on Markus’ behalf while giving Markus a stern look for his remark.

“Please come with me, Mr Black.” The nurse replied without so much as a change in expression.

Markus and Tommy followed the nurse to the room in the back. It was a sterile room with white walls and light yellow flooring. It smelled like Lysol and lemons and had an exam bed in the middle. The nurse handed Markus a hospital gown, told him to change, and sit on the bed.

After about an hour of waiting, the doctor finally walked in the room. He was a short man with a strange reflective black sheen to his skin, almost metallic. He didn’t introduce himself. In fact, he said very little at all. He inspected the mangled wrist, looked to Tommy, nodded, and instructed the nurse to give him a shot of Demerol. The nurse pulled out a large syringe and instructed Markus to roll over.

“You’re going to feel a slight pinch” she said as she stuck the syringe in his left buttock.

The needle traveled deeply into his flesh, too deeply it seemed, unnaturally deep, and when she pushed the plunger, the amount of liquid that filled his backside was almost more than he could handle.

“Did that hurt?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. It hurt really bad.” Markus replied.

“Well, get ready, because when the doctor comes back, he is going to hurt you a whole lot worse than that!”

“Lovely.” Markus replied.

Chapter 7

“Your left arm is useless from the elbow to the hand. We’re going to have to replace it with a new one.”

"You’re going to cut off half my arm?!”

“Don’t be so crude. We have more refined methods of flesh replacement. One does not repair something by cutting it off and jamming a new part into it. That is a terrible method! The best way to make repairs is to redefine the damaged flesh at its source. I will set the bones in the proper alignment and then inject you with the blood of the lamb and you will be healed.”

“The blood of the lamb? Jesus?”

“Yes. Through his blood, we are healed.”

“I thought that was a metaphor.”

“No. His literal blood has healing powers and he was kind enough to donate a blood sample long ago which we synthesized. It is the most powerful medicine in the world. This is why he is truly the son of man. His flesh and his blood are perfect. Mix a little of it in with a person who is sick or injured and they are instantly healed.”

“Why don’t other doctors use this?”

“Because they don’t believe in him.”

“There are lots of Christian doctors!”

“Yes, but they believe in him as a fairy tale. They don’t realize one can literally eat his flesh and drink his blood and be healed. This is why God took him up. He is so perfect, everyone wanted a piece. They nearly tore him to shreds before he ascended to the right hand of God. Now he requires protection at all times.”

“So if he sits on the right hand of God with his amazing healing powers and I’m seated on the left hand, does this mean I am now the opposite of healing?”

“You learn fast!”

The doctor took Markus’ wrist and with a twist, he cracked the bones back in place, flipping the palm back to the proper orientation. Markus shouted. Tears streamed down his face. The pain was overwhelming. He looked at the floor and saw huge teardrops smacking against the tile, tears that he hadn’t even been aware of until they exited his eyes. The doctor made several more adjustments to the broken bones, each one hurting more than the last until finally everything was adjusted and oriented properly. Markus’ arm was straight again.

The nurse handed the doctor a syringe filled with the blood of the lamb and the doctor made the injection. As the medicinal, synthetic, holy blood mingled with Markus’ blood, his purple, swollen arm from his elbow down changed color to an anodized black steel. He no longer felt pain in his arm. In fact, it felt absolutely amazing, but the appearance was bizarre. A black, anodized metal arm? What was he? A cyborg? It looked ridiculous.

“I don’t need to ask how it feels. I’m certain I know. I’ve been giving myself regular injections since 60 AD."

“The doctor was one of the original apostles.” Tommy said.

“You’re a saint? Which one?”

“Judas Iscariot. I’m not a saint. Our Lord chose me to sit at God’s left hand. I was the first chosen one in the common era. I was the first man chosen for the job you’re now inheriting. Before me, Death was a job for angels.”

“Death? As in the Grim Reaper.”

“Don’t be stupid. Death is not some skeleton in a druid cloak. Death is more of an overseer job. Sometimes people need a little help, so we help them die. Dying is not easy. So when we see a person is having trouble doing it on their own, we use the power of God through his Holy Son to get them out of this life and on the to afterlife.”

“What awaits in the afterlife?”

“I don’t know. I never died. All I got was a quick glimpse of the Holy City before I was transformed into Death.”

“Lovely.”

"Welcome to the club, Mr Black. It's very exclusive."

Chapter 8

“When you see someone who needs to die, but they are lingering longer than they should, touch their heart with your left hand and they will pass. You only need to deal with people who are holding on for too long. A person being obliterated by an explosion, for instance, doesn’t require your assistance.”

“So I’m just going to wander around looking for people to kill?”

“Pretty much. We’ll bring you back here for injections of the blood of the lamb every hundred years or so, but other than that, we just need you to lead a normal life.”

“And kill people.”

“You can’t kill someone who is already dead. You’re more of a persuader who convinces the corpse not to be a zombie.”

“So I can go home?”

“Yes, but your parents won’t be pleased with you. Time moves differently in this office and you’ll be two years older when you leave. If they get too upset, just touch their hearts with your left hand and they’ll leave you alone for good.”

“Ugh. That’s a terrible thought!”

“It is, so be careful who you kill. Pretty much anyone is fair game, except for other Deaths. You’ll know them by their various anodized parts. You can’t kill them and they can’t kill you. Also, touching yourself over your heart does nothing to you, so don’t worry about rubbing your chest with your left hand.”

“So I’m going back home as a 16 year old and have the power to kill anyone with a single touch?”

“Not just a power, but a duty! It is now your sacred duty to bring people to Christ everyday.”

“By killing them.”

“Yes. By killing them. Touch their hearts so they can be seated at the right hand of God.”

Finally, Tommy jumped in and said "Come on, Markus. Let’s get in the car. I’ll take you back home.”

“Lovely.”

Chapter 9

"So I've been gone for two years and now I'm just going to waltz back in with a black cyborg arm and say hi to my mom and dad?"

"Yeah, pretty much. What? Why does it matter?"

"Because that's awkward!"

"So? You wanna know what's awkward? My job is awkward. That's what!"

"You're not a death?"

"Nope. I also sit on the left hand, but I'm not a death. I'm a devil."

"You're the devil?!"

"There is no The Devil or Satan or any of that. The devil is a sacred duty, just like death."

"What does a devil do?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"I fill the world with deaths!"

"Ah! And we fill the world with death."

"You get it."

"We're a part of God's twisted pyramid scheme."

"Yeah. No one enjoys their sacred duty."

"Not even Jesus?"

"Especially not Jesus. You know what he's gone through? You've seen The Passion, right? Talk about a bad gig and being a human medicine bag on top of that? No one wants that job. So be thankful you just have to kill people and don't have to feed them your body parts."

"Yeah, I see your point. It's a much better feeling to kill people at their own expense than to heal and save them at your own expense."

"Tell me about it. Well, kid. I got you home safe and sound like I promised. Make the big man proud and kill lots of people in His righteous name. OK? Give your Uncle Tommy a hug. Take care and good luck!"

"I'll do my best. See ya, man. I hope you make lots of deaths."

"Thanks! Goodbye."

"Bye."

Markus stood in front of his parents’ house for several minutes uneasy about going inside until he was spotted by his mother, who came running out to see him. 

Markus' return home wasn't as uncomfortable as he expected. His parents were thrilled to have him back. After he went missing and passed the six month point, he was presumed dead by the police investigators. Having no memory of the past two years and being unable to answer any questions, both his parents and the police decided to drop it and instead work to integrate him back into society. There simply was no way to explain how his arm turned black or where he'd been, so Markus shrugged and said he didn't know. He was two years behind on his education and going back to school, he was going to be the old kid in class, a 16 year old in a class full of 14 year olds, with a black metal arm and the power to kill anyone with a touch. Junior high school was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter 10

Being the old kid in class was humiliating for Markus. It automatically tagged him with the label of underachiever no matter what the circumstances surrounding having missed two years of school were. The classes were painfully dull and he wasn't learning much. He was bored and the difference in size between a 16 year old and a 14 year old boy were pronounced. He was shaving his whole face while the other boys were just getting a spotty mustache. He was almost six feet tall while his classmates were nearly a foot shorter. The upside was the girls paid more attention to him. He stood out and seemed more sophisticated. And his anodized black metal arm was an instant conversation starter.

"It's so cool looking! Can I touch it?" Misty asked.

"Of course you can touch it. You don't have to ask." Markus replied with a wink. "Anytime you want to touch anything, I'm OK with it."

"It's so smooth!" Misty said while stroking Markus' shiny black part.

"Be careful how you handle it. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, Misty." Markus said while making no apologies for the innuendo, but at the same time worried he might accidentally kill someone with it.

"Can I touch it, too?" Shannon asked.

"Of course! There is plenty of my big, shiny black parts to go around. Can you ladies be nice and share?"

 Shannon and Misty smiled and passively, yet competitively, stroked his arm until finally Mr. Domer, their American History teacher, broke up the love fest.

"You kids need to wait until after school for that kind of thing. We're here to learn."

Then he started class, droning on about some gossipy story of Calvin Coolidge and how he was not a very good President. Markus, however, was not listening intently. He was imagining himself in the middle of a prolonged stroking session with the girls. As his mind drifted off, he found himself transported back to the doctor's office, standing in front of Judas, Tommy, and the nurse.

"What are you doing, Mr. Black?" Judas asked.

"Just being a regular kid, I guess." Markus replied.

"We didn't transform you into the angel of death to try to score with two girls at once. You have sacred duties to perform and you're not performing them."

"If I kill someone in public, won't I go to jail?"

"No. When you touch a person's heart, they won't always die instantly. Sometimes they will. Sometimes they won't. And when they do pass, no one will connect it to you. Do you seriously believe God would give you these powers only to get you arrested?"

"I just haven't seen anyone clinging to life, yet."

"Are you kidding? They're all around you. Everyone is clinging to dear life. It doesn't matter who you kill. You just need to kill someone, anyone, indiscriminately!  That's what deaths do! The timing doesn't matter. Everyone dies and the timing of it never makes sense. Now get out there and kill people."

Suddenly, Markus was back at his desk in history class thinking to himself "This job really sucks."

Chapter 11

After school, Markus walked home with Misty. He tried to get Shannon to join them, but her budding rivalry with Misty made her uneasy with sharing Markus made him realize his fantasy of losing his virginity in a ménage à trois was probably not realistic.

"Do you think I'm prettier than Shannon?" Misty asked.

"Much prettier and you have a better body." Markus was, of course, lying. Misty had a prettier face, but Shannon's body was crazy hot. Misty knew this, but she appreciated the lie regardless. They walked home to Markus' parent's house and luckily, no one else was home, so they sneaked off into Markus' bedroom and started fooling around.

"Man, this is great!" Markus thought to himself as they began necking. They made out for a solid thirty minutes before he got brave and decided to go for a bra strap. Misty help him out and guided his hands to feel up her breasts. Markus was beyond turned on. His 16 year old hormones were scorching. His nuts started to ache as his erection, already full mast, seemed to grow an extra length. He placed his thumbs and forefingers around her nipples and squeezed when suddenly, his left hand passed straight into Misty's heart.

Suddenly, Markus was transported back to the doctor's office and standing again in front of Judas, Tommy, and the nurse still pitching a tent in his pants.

"Well done, Markus! Misty was a fine first kill. Maybe we'll make a decent angel of death out of you, yet!" Tommy said.

"How does it feel?" Judas asked.

"I feel really bad about it and my dick is killing me." Markus replied.

Chapter 12

"Get used to it, Mr. Black. God's holy vassals aren't allowed to have sex and when we try? Well, you see what happens. You need to focus on your work and forget about sex. And by all means, don't even think about falling in love. Every time a death angel falls in love, it is a bloodbath. World War I and II, for instance, were largely in part to a death angel who joined a wife swapping club. Not only did she cause countless atrocities, but she never did find sexual relief. Don't go there. It will only lead to frustration."

This was a stern warning from Tommy and Judas. Markus' teenage hormones were raging and he couldn't do anything about it?! And how was he supposed to get by in life without a companion? Getting a dog wasn't going to cut it.

Markus refused to believe any of this rabble. He never asked to be celibate and didn't think it was fair at all that God chose him for such an awful fate, so he decided he'd do exactly what he the powers that be didn't seem to want: he vowed never to use his sacred powers.

Somewhere in the distance, Markus heard a chorus of devils laughing.

Chapter 13

The next morning Markus walked to school still hot and bothered from the previous day of arousal with no release and angry God had turned his wanking hand into an instrument of death. Sure, he’d been told touching himself with his death hand couldn’t hurt him, but the feeling of cold black steel wrapped around his hard on was about as arousing as dry humping the hood of a Ford Explorer and because he was a lefty, the right hand was too clumsy. Even worse, God had chosen him to live the life of a freaking monk! No women? No self-gratification? And he was still a virgin? How’s a man supposed to live like that? It was maddening, but Markus was determined to find a way around God’s plan.

Shannon walked up to Markus and said “Did you hear what happened to Misty?”

“No. What happened?”

“She was found dead and topless in the middle of Planning Blvd. No one knows what she was doing there. They think some sicko tore her shirt off and ran her over.”

“Sicko?!”

“Don’t act offended, Markus. I’m not accusing you of anything. But hey, didn’t you hang out with her yesterday?”

“Yeah. But I had to leave before we did anything.”

“Aw, poor baby. Well, if you’re not too busy after school, maybe we can pick up where you and Misty left off?”

“Holy crap! You are cold blooded.”

“Is that a no?”

“Of course not. I like cold blooded, babe.”

Shannon smiled an evil grin, grabbed Markus’ left hand and put it up against her heart. Before Markus could pull away, Tommy appeared behind them and said “Don’t even think about it, you two! Shannon, you know better and Markus? Stop thinking with your loin fruit. If you two mess around, it could be World War III.”

“Wait! How were you able to live through my death hand on your heart?”

Shannon smiled and unbuttoned her blouse a few buttons down, revealing an anodized black steel half cleavage. Markus tapped his index finger over it and heard a loud “Plink!” sound and they both giggled like immature teenagers.

“You’re both sworn to a life of celibacy. Get used to it. Only bad things happen when a death angel tries to get laid, but two death angels trying to lay one another? It’s never happened. It never should happen. I don’t even know how it is possible now. Stay away from each and keep your clothing on.” A stern Tommy said as he vanished.

“What does he care if we accidentally kill the world? I thought that’s what devils wanted: lots of wanton carnage.”

“I think he wants to limit and control the carnage, just like he limits and controls us.” Markus replied.

“Well, I think even an angel of death should be allowed to have a good time once in awhile. Ya know?”

“I agree!” Markus said while taking her hand and walking to school.

Once again, Markus heard a chorus of laughing devils.

“Can you hear that?” He asked Shannon.

“No, what?”

“Eh? Nothing. Never mind.”

Chapter 14

Pondering their bizarre circumstances and happy to have made the acquaintance of someone who can relate, Markus and Shannon walked to class discussing the strange sacred duties they shared.

“So how many have your taken from this world?” Markus asked Shannon.

“Countless. With the placement of my death utensil, every time I give someone a hug, they die. It’s kind of fun when it’s one of those clingy, touchy feely guys who hugs every girl he meets, though. I make sure to give them bear hugs!”

“Seems pretty unfair that you are both forbidden from intimacy and at the same time have an erogenous zone as your instrument of death!”

“It’s not all too uncommon for women. My instrument of death is simply more immediate. Besides, that’s how God works. When He takes something away from you, it becomes what you want the most and he replaces it with something that seems cool superficially until you understand the great responsibility it carries. Then you don’t want it at all. We’re not the only ones who experience this. Everyone deals with it in some way. Ours is just a little more obvious.”

“We kill people.”

“You’ve only got one kill under your belt. Better step it up, rookie!”

“I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want to do it. I just want to be a normal kid and do normal kid things.”

“Really? Have you seen the so called normal kids of today? They’re dreadful.”

“I don’t think they’re dreadful. I like them. I don’t want to kill them. I want to get to know them.”

“Good luck with that. Hey, I don’t like killing people either, but it’s unavoidable. I’ve already inadvertently hugged enough people to create fear of a new Black Death pandemic. I really thought I would make God mad by hugging my pastor at a revival on national television, but He didn’t seem to mind. Turned out it didn’t even kill my pastor. He’s actually a devil like Tommy.”

“That’s just crazy!”

“Right? He laughed it off and told me I was a very naughty dark angel. Then he prayed for me and I was slain in the spirit.”

“You fell out?”

“Yes.”

“On purpose?”

“No! It just happened. It was crazy and beautiful and amazing. I felt the Holy Spirit all around and I stood up after laying on the ground for five minutes, started crying, and went around absent mindedly hugging the congregation. My pastor wasn’t too happy with me after that. His non-denominational Charismatic mega-church is now a tiny country chapel because of me.”

As they arrived to the school grounds, Markus started feeling better about his sacred duties. Shannon had executed almost an entire church with her steely black death-teet. He vowed to be more careful. Sure, he’d just killed the hottest girl in his grade, but things could be worse. He just needed to get his mind off sex and relationships. He thought about going out for the football team. Perhaps he could be a good running back? That’s a position that requires lots of hard work. Maybe that could get his mind off his problems. He decided after school to go sign up for tryouts and see if he could make the team. And as the plan came together in his mind, he heard yet another demonic chorus of laughter.

“Oh! Shut up, you.” Mr. Black said.

Chapter 15

As Markus and Shannon walked to their lockers, Shannon saw Bobby, last year’s star running back of the school football team and waved to him with a flirty look. Excited about a possible opportunity, Bobby walked up and gave Shannon a big hug. Markus opened up his locker and thought “That girl is absolutely ruthless!” As he was getting his books out, Shannon whispered in his ear “Hey! I think you’re a sure thing to make the team now. You can thank me later. I’ll be on the sidelines cheering.”

“You’re a cheerleader? I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“Well, I didn’t picture you as a star running back either, but as long as you’re going to be murdering defenses, I might as well hang out and murder cheerleaders. We death angels gotta stick together!”

“You’re really awful. You know that?”

“At least I’m using the tools the Good Lord gave me.” She said, sticking out her chest. “See ya in History class. Ciao, baby!”

The day dragged on slowly. Markus was very careful with his left hand. He didn’t even want to write with it. If he could have cut his whole left arm off, he would have done so without hesitation. Being a teenage angel of death wasn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. Part of him wished God would take away his burden and give it to someone else. Another part of him was glad to have his powers. After all, there are women like Shannon wandering the Earth rubbing their evil breasts of death on random bystanders.

In History class, Mr. Domer droned on sounding like a cross between Elmer Fudd and Foghorn Leghorn. The man had the strangest mannerisms and speech patterns of anyone he’d ever seen. When he spoke of History, it was unintentional comedy. Apparently, during the Spanish Civil War “Duh anarchists were the… were the… I said, I said, were the only thing standing between a monarch, I said, I said a king, see? And those blasted pinko communist punks and so the military stepped in and took over. Is that what you kids want? Anarchy? Communism? Fascism? You knuckleheads probably think those things are cool, but let you tell me, I said, I said, it ain’t. No, sir!”

Shannon was seated in slight hindsight of Markus and he kept watching her out of the corner of his eye. Whenever she noticed, she fondled her left breast causing him to unwittingly start rubbing his left forearm. Mr. Domer noticed, halted class, and asked if they would like to continue flirting in the principal’s office. Shannon laughed and promised to be good. Markus rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he found himself back in the doctor’s office sitting in a chair at Judas’ desk.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Black?”

“No, sir. Why?”

“Because Mr. Domer thinks you’re acting in a defiant manner toward him.”

“Why should I care what he thinks?”

“Because he’s my boss. Don’t cross him. He’s a very powerful devil. None of us need the grief.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll be good.”

Suddenly, Markus was back in class wondering how many devils and deaths were around him. It was a little unsettling.

Chapter 16

After school, Markus walked to the gym to the football field to talk to the coach about joining the football team. He talked to one of the assistant coaches who directed him to the head coach, Coach Lloyd Buttsky. Mr. Buttsy had been Markus’ PE coach and had encouraged him to try out for the football team as they desperately needed new players.

“So you wanna be a running back, Markus? You know we already have a star running back, but he left sick today. He was vomiting pretty bad, so his mother came and took him to the hospital. Why don’t you put on some pads and we’ll try you out at fullback. I think you’re a little too big for halfback.”

Nearby, Shannon was attending a memorial service for Misty. The cheerleading squad spent five minutes remembering their fallen captain and another 45 minutes debating who would be their new captain. It was decided Shannon should lead them. She was so happy, she hugged the whole squad and the coaching staff.

When Markus was suited up, he headed out to the field and tried out at fullback in a scrimmage game. They mostly had him block and he was quickly becoming disinterested until coach Buttsky told him the next play would be a fullback screen. Finally! Markus had a chance to catch a pass and run. They lined up and faked a run to the right. Markus ran left and caught the pass. He was immediately wrapped up by a linebacker who Markus pushed away with his left hand. As his hand entered the linebacker’s chest, Markus could see the terror in his eyes. He pulled back his hand and continued running, using his left hand to stiff arm eight more players on the way to the end zone. He just killed all the best players on the defense in one play.

Suddenly, Markus and Shannon were standing in front of Judas and Tommy once again.

“Guys! Be a little more discreet, please? We can’t just have you two running around killing everyone at your school! We need you to kill more old people. They’re the ones who need to go. If you kill all the young people, there won’t be anyone left to repopulate the Earth!”

“I thought death was indiscriminate?” Markus asked.

“Yes, but it indiscriminately happens a lot more often to old people. Stop killing your classmates. Both of you!”

“Yes, sir.” Markus and Shannon replied in unison.

Chapter 17

The next day, the entire city was shut down. Some mysterious illness had swept through the little town of Tangerine Park. Tangerine Junior High was crawling with health investigators to identify the source of sickness that had claimed the lives of several football players and the entire cheerleading program. All of the students were quarantined and tested. Results were inconclusive. Markus was quarantined to his bedroom where he sat in complete boredom playing video games all day, occasionally leaning out his window to smoke a cigarette. He’d never been much of a smoker in the past, but seeing as he was now immortal and a living personification of death, he could smoke as much as he wanted. As he dangled his cigarette over the window ledge of his 2 nd story bedroom, he felt a pair of lips press against the filter of his cigarette and take a drag. It was Shannon, who had apparently escaped the clutches of quarantine to join him.

“Baby! We gotta stop meeting like this!”

“You gotta stop playing hard to get, sugga. You know how many people I had to kill on my way over? And I did it just to see you!”

“Aw! You love me. That’s so sweet.”

“Can I come inside?”

“Baby, I was going to ask you the same thing!”

“Well, I guess I should get my happy ass in your bedroom.” Shannon said laughing.

She climbed inside. Markus put out his cigarette and they started making out hot and heavy. They weren’t wasting anytime getting into the action when suddenly, they were back in the doctor’s office with a very displeased Tommy and Judas and the nurse standing near them.

“This isn’t happening, you two. It’s not allowed.” Judas said.

“What if we don’t care what we’re allowed to do and what we’re not allowed to do?” Shannon asked.

“Don’t you think there is a reason it’s not allowed?” Tommy asked.

“Maybe. What’s the reason?”

“I don’t know why it’s not allowed. But it isn’t.” Judas said.

“Neither do I. Just cut it out. No one wants to find out what happens when a pair of death angels fuck. No one. It can’t be a good thing.”

“What if we just do oral?” Shannon asked to which Markus raised an inquisitive, agreeing eyebrow.

“Nothing. Get your minds off sex. Both of you. Don’t make me bring you here again or I swear to God, I’ll…”

“You’ll do what? We’re freaking immortal!” Shannon said as she reached down Markus’ shorts and grabbed with a full grip.

Suddenly, they were back in Markus’ bedroom and picked up right were they left off. They weren’t looking outside while they enjoyed one another, but the sky was changing. The clouds turned to smoke. The stars turned into fireballs and started falling from to the Earth. Sirens were blaring. Dogs were howling. People were running down the streets on fire and shouting in agony until Markus sealed the deal. As he finished, his house was little more than a pile of ash and cinder and the town of Tangerine Park was reduced to rubble.

“That was quick, Mr. Black.” Shannon said as she stood up and inspected her newly grown pair of black wings. “But thank you. It appears you’ve transformed me into a demon. You have my eternal gratitude.” She said as she flew off into the night time sky.

Nearby, Markus could hear a howling chorus of demonic laughter, louder and wilder than before.

Chapter 18

Wearing only a pair of gym shorts and sandals, Tommy wandered around the cinder and rubble of what was once the town of Tangerine Park, a suburb of Orlandville, FL, and surveyed the damage. There was nothing alive for miles. It was as if a meteor had struck the town, or an H-Bomb. There were shadows of where people had been incinerated on the spot, but no bones or pieces of body parts to be seen. There was no blood anywhere. It was as if all life had vanished in every direction as far as the eye could see. A car pulled up beside Markus and the passenger side window rolled down.

“I warned you. Didn’t I?” Tommy said from the driver’s seat. “Come on. Get in. We need to start a new life for you now.”

“What the hell just happened?”

“You fucked a woman, finished way too quickly, and the next thing you knew, she transformed into demon spawn and flew away. Happens all the time! That’s why I warned you to stay pure. Now you’re a dirty bird, pervert death. The people you reap are going to suffer far worse than those you’ve taken so far.”

“How come I didn’t turn into a demon?”

“You’re not evil enough. Shannon? That girl was pure evil. She had absolutely no conscience. She’ll be a fantastic death-maker!”

“So now she turns people into death?”

“Yes! She’s proven herself by going above and beyond and from being totally ruthless. Only the best and the darkest get to move up to her level. It’s a big responsibility, though. One she may learn to regret.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, she’s pregnant with your hell spawn and doesn’t know it yet. That’s why we gotta hide you. She’ll want to feed you to it.”

“Feed me to it?”

“Yes! A death can be consumed by young hell spawn for nourishment. You wouldn’t die completely, but you would be absorbed into the essence of your offspring in a horrible, horrible manner. So you are going to need to lay low for awhile and try not to massacre anymore football teams. You’ll still need to work. But you should work by visiting hospitals and looking for people who no one expects to live anyway. You’ll be a lot harder for Shannon to find.”

“So now I have to spend to the rest of eternity hiding from my demon baby momma?”

“Hey, kid. I tried to stop you from banging her, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Chapter 19

 As Markus and Tommy drove through the apocalyptic remnants of Tangerine Park, they also drove through time. Two years passed. Markus was now 18 years old and they hadn’t even gotten out of the car.

“What just happened?”

“I’m driving you to a new age so I can hide you. You need to be 18 to enlist in the military. I’m putting you in an Army unit that will deploy to a war zone. There will be plenty of easy reaps there. Don’t worry about getting wounded. If you get shot or hit by a projectile or explosion, I’ll pull you back to Judas’ office and give you some more Blood of the Lamb. You’ll be fine. Just don’t be a hero. Be a regular private and lay low.”

“If two years have passed, Shannon must have given birth by now, right?”

“Nope! Demon pregnancies take a long time. She’s most certainly aware of her pregnancy by now and will want to track you down. She’ll say or do anything to get you back. If you see her, be very careful. She only wants you back so she can use you.”

They drove up to a bus stop filled with men waiting for the Army bus to arrive and take them to basic training. Markus got out of the car still wearing only sandals and gym shorts. Tommy stopped him and said “You’re gonna need a shirt kid!” And tossed him a baggy t-shirt, then he drove off disappearing into a dark mist.

Markus stood in the crowd quietly until another soon to be private started talking.

“Hey, man! What’s your name? I’m Wesley, but you can call me Wes.”

“Markus. Nice to meet you.”

“Where you from, Markus?”

“Florida.”

“No kidding? I hear they got all kinds of bad things happening there. People dying left and right. Kids shooting at cars driving on the interstate. Hurricanes floodin’ everything. Entire cities vaporized by some mysterious bomb. Somebody told me there was a little town that got all blow’d up by Russians and that’s why we’re goin’ to war with them.”

“Russia?”

“Yeah! Them commie bastards ain’t gonna get away with blowin’ up our country!”

“Wow!”

“Are you excited to be a soldier? Man, I sure am. I can’t wait to kill a Rusky.”

“Killing isn’t a good feeling.”

“How would you know? How many people have you killed?”

“Eh? Never mind.”

Somewhere nearby, Markus could hear more devils laughing.

Chapter 20

When the Army “bus” arrived, it was a cattle truck rather than an actual bus. Three drill sergeants walked out and immediately started yelling at everyone to get on the bus and stay quiet. The first was a small, petite black woman with the last name of Battle, which was an uncanny last name to say the least. She shouted and shoved the privates around and scared the crap out of men twice her size. She was followed Drill Sgt Fatalle, a thickly built Samoan man with hands the size a catcher’s mitts. His gruff voice and thick accent made him seem extra menacing. To amuse himself, he’d grab the top of the head of any nearby private and wrap his huge hand over their dome and shake their head for them. He grabbed Wesley’s head and said:

“You ready to join MY Army, knukka-head? Are you ready? I’m asking you a question, knukka-head!”

Then he shook Wes’ terrified head up and down and in a high pitched, mock Mickey Mouse voice he answered for him:

“Yes, Drill Sgt Fatalle! I’ve been waiting all my useless life for this!”

Then he shoved him toward to entrance to the cattle truck and said:

“Get out of my sight!”

The third was a short, pale, freckled, red haired man with enormous ears that stuck straight out named Sgt McGrove. He looked like Alfred E Neuman and Smokey the Bear somehow had a child together. His bark was the loudest and he mocked the scurrying privates as they hustled into the cattle truck.

“Do you know why you’ll be standing in the dark, on a freaking cattle truck, on a two hour ride to Fort Woodrow Lenn? I’ll tell you why. God hates privates! That’s why. Get used to it, privates, because it’s only going to get worse from here on out. Hahahah!”

Drill Sgt Battle and Drill Sgt Fatalle started laughing with him as they locked the privates into the darkness of the cattle truck. Markus recognized that laughter. He’d heard it over and over ever since he was first turned into death.

Chapter 21

As they rode in the dark cattle truck to Fort Woodrow, Markus began to feel like he’d been set up. Clearly, the drill sergeants were devils. Was it possible the other privates were deaths? There was only one way to find out. Markus looked at Wes and said “Sorry bro” and then he touched him over the heart. Wes fell to the floor dead instantly. The cattle truck screeched to a halt. The drill sergeants opened the door and shouted “Private Black! Get the fuck out here. Get the fuck out right now and take that sorry ass who just fainted with you. Markus picked up Wes and carried him outside and was dragged, still holding Wes’ body, behind the tree line roadside by the drill sergeants who proceeded to beat the living shit out of him.

“Did I tell you that you were allowed to murder anyone, private? I don’t remember giving you the order to kill PVT Dumbfuck  on my cattle truck. Tell me, Private Black, just what the fuck were you thinking?” Drill Sgt Battle asked.

“I noticed the three of you were devils and I was thinking maybe I was in a unit filled with death angels who needed some basic training.”

“What did you just call me?”

To which both Drill Sgts Fatalle and McGrove started slapping PVT Black around.

“From now on, Private, you will address your drill sergeants as Drill Sgt! You got that?!”

“Yes, Drill Sgt.”

“I ain’t your buddy from back on the block. Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

“Yes, Drill Sgt.”                        

“And why in the sacred name of motherfuck, would we stock a whole unit full of death angels? Deaths got work to do, unless yo name is Markus Black and you fuck around with other death angels invoking the wrath of God. Then you fuck up and get yo ass sent to Fort Woodrow.”

“Yes, Drill Sgt.”

“Now get yo ass back on my cattle truck and don’t you kill anymore privates until one of us says so. You got that?”

“Yes, Drill Sgt!”

Marcus hurried back into the cattle truck. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of flesh tearing and chewing. They must not be too mad at him if they were now eating Wes’ corpse. It seemed like Army basic training was little more than a game played by demons while they fed on the flesh of young men.

“Well, better Wes getting8 eaten by hungry devils than me, I suppose. Sorry, man.”

In the background, Markus heard slurping and laughter.

Chapter 22

When the cattle truck arrived to Fort Woodrow, the drill sergeants opened the sliding doors and ordered the nervous privates out. There was snow on the ground and Drill Sgt Fatalle and Drill Sgt McGrove were standing on either side of the exit tossing privates into it while laughing heartily.

“Do you know why there is snow on the ground? It is because God hates privates! Hahahah!”

Upon hitting the ground, Drill Sgt Battle was lining people up and making the privates lay on their back and roll to the left and roll to the right in unison at her command.

“Roll left!” - All the privates rolled with their hands at their side to the left.

“Roll right!” - All the privates rolled with their hands at their side to the right.

“Now stand up!” - All the privates stood up.

“Now lay down!” - All the privates lay back down.

“Roll left!” - All the privates rolled with their hands at their side to the left.

“Roll right!” - All the privates rolled with their hands at their side to the right. This pattern continued in the freezing cold for an hour until everyone was thoroughly numb. Then they were made to march to their barracks to be issued uniforms and bedding.

After standing in line shivering and waiting to be issued their uniforms and bedding, they were escorted to get their heads shaved. One barber. One barber chair. Two hundred exhausted, freezing cold men. The wait for a head shaving seemed eternal.

“Am I in Hell?” Markus thought to himself.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that Drill Sgt Fatalle slapped Markus on the back of his head and told him “Shut the fuck up, knukka-head. I can hear you thinking!”

The barber was not very gentle with his shears. He drew blood several times clunking the metal against Markus’ head. This was not a barber with an finesse. This was no artist. He replaced Markus’ sculpted high fade into a blotchy bald head. It wasn’t the best look, especially with scabs, but he had no one to impress with his appearance anyway.

When they finally reached the barracks with their new uniforms, their sheets and pillows, and their freshly massacred bald heads, they lined up and were given numbers of which bunk was theirs. Next, they made their beds and laid down as the drill sergeants informed them they’d had a long day and tomorrow would be even harder, so get some well-earned rest. They turned out the lights and Markus fell asleep instantly. 15 minutes later, Drill Sgt Battle walking in, turned on the lights, made everyone wake up, go outside, and shovel snow.

In the background, Markus could hear that familiar laughter.

Chapter 23

The first week of basic training was pure mind games. Markus’ company repeated the process of being issued uniforms and bedding and made to shovel snow in the middle of the night every day. They were given roughly 5 minutes to eat before being rushed outside to do situps and pushups and march down the avenue singing cadences. They were yelled at, threatened, and asked if they wanted to give up. Markus knew he could not quit. He had nowhere safe to hide from Shannon and the baby monster they had created in less than five minutes of paradise. So he resigned himself to just go with the flow, showing up wherever he was ordered, saying “Yes, drill sgt” and “No, drill sgt” like a good boy. And most of all, not killing anyone.

Markus’ bunkmate, Pvt Snowman, was a stress case. He’d no sooner gotten in that he was plotting to leave. He hated it in the Army. He felt like he’d been lied to by his recruiter who told him basic training was the most fun he’d ever have in his whole life. Clearly that recruiter was also a devil.

Snowman didn’t take a shower or wash his uniforms all week and was getting to be quite ripe. One of the other privates, Washington, started called Snowman Pvt Goat’s Ass due to the agricultural scent that was developing. Snowman didn’t care and half hoped he could get kicked out for being stinky, but he had no such luck. Instead, the drill sgts forced him to strip naked, led him off to the showers, handed out hard bristle brushes and brooms to all the privates in the company, set up mop buckets filled with industrial all purpose cleaner and hot water, and instructed the company to, in the words of Sgt Fatalle “Get dat nastay ass Snowbird clean befo I shine my steel toes wit his asshole! That’s an order, privates!!!”

So they scrubbed him like he’d never been scrubbed before. Snowman’s skin turned bright red. He laid in the shower crying and we poked and prodded with brushes and brooms until Sgt Fatalle decided he’d had enough. Then a towel was wrapped around him and he was asked if he still wanted to wear a soldier’s uniform.

“Fuck no!” He replied.

“I’m sorry to hear dat. Well, the only person here who can process you out of this man’s Army is Drill Sgt Battle. Take yo towel and report yo sorry quittin ass to her office.”

“Yes, drill sergeant!” Snowman said with a sigh of relief.

Sgt Fatalle then ordered them to police the area, get back to our bunks, and to get some rest. As the lights were being turned out and Markus was settling into sleep, he faintly heard Sgt McGrove, Sgt Battle, and Sgt Fatalle laughing and slurping. Private Snowman was apparently getting his discharge without the accompanying paperwork.

The next morning, Snowman’s bed was cleared, his locker was cleaned out, and the company marched to a firing range where they were issued M-16’s and attended a class on firing range safety. No one was going to miss Snowman, but everyone took notice to how easy and undesirable it was to opt out of duty.

It was cold on the firing range and to make matters worse, gloves were not allowed. A thin sleet was misting everyone and the temperature hovered around 0 degree. In his foxhole awaiting the signal to start firing, Markus thought to himself, “Here I am. A failed angel of death firing an M-16 in the middle of nowhere during a cold day in hell. I have no idea how my life took such a turn.”

At that moment, Sgt Fatalle kicked him in the helmet and said “It’s better than getting eaten by you bastard demon spawn, ain’t it? Now shut the fuck up with all that thinking and shoot, knukka-head!”

The big, evil Samoan had a point.

Chapter 24

By the eighth week of basic training, things were running a lot smoother. The handful of quitters and malcontents had been eaten gruesomely and the roughly two hundred soldiers left in the company were loyal, dedicated, and working hard together as a combat unit in training. The morning PT was becoming fun. The long road marches were an adventure. They could run like the wind. They could clear a gas mask. They were being allowed a full 15 minutes to eat their meals and six hours of sleep every night. They were qualified on all the basic weapons. Their boots were polished like glass. They recognized rank knowing when to salute, when to say “Yes, sir” or “Yes, sergeant” and when to stand in parade rest. They instinctively followed all marching commands. With one day to go, they were squared away and eagerly anticipating graduation.

Markus sat at his bunk polishing his boots. He hadn’t talked much, nor had he gotten to know anyone. In fact, Drill Sgt Fatalle taught him the value of not thinking at all, to just react and never question anything. Markus had become a perfect soldier: impossible to kill, unthinking, unrelenting, unquestioning, and possessing instant death at his fingertips. His parents, who had been incinerated by his fling with that slut, Shannon, would be proud were they still on this Earth. Still, Markus was proud for himself. He made it.

As the company went for their routine daily run, Sgt McGrove shouted “This is our victory run today, privates. You made it! Tomorrow, you’ll graduate and get the fuck off my Army base. I’m proud of all of you, even you stupid little fuckers who don’t talk much, like Left Hand Black over there. Knucklehead polished his boots so much, his whole left arm turned shiny!” Markus heard laughter all around and he joined in.

The next day, the company was standing in formation dressed in their class A uniforms waiting to be handed their graduation certificates. The moment was surreal. As he walked to the stage to receive his certificate, he looked around the room and thought about the people who didn’t make it, how horrible their deaths must have been as they were torn apart by hungry demons, how they signed up thinking they’d be heroes and were instead fed to an evil war machine. Then he thanks God for making him immortal and prayed that God would protect him from his pregnant demon baby momma. As the prayer exited his heart, he heard his drill sergeants laughing and wondered if God even listened to his prayers anymore.

The next day, Markus was on a flight to his new unit: Fort Braggart. He got excited when he heard they were the coldest killers in the Army. It had been several weeks since he’d killed anybody. He hoped he’d get to use his powers of death again soon. He really missed killing people. It’s not something a person can quit cold turkey. Even two months of basic training hadn’t untrained his habit. In fact, it only made him want to kill more, to be a good angel of death and do the job God had entrusted him to do. Perhaps that was why he was sent to basic training in the first place?

In the background, he faintly heard applause.

Chapter 25

On his flight to Fort Braggart, Markus was seated between two very large, very sweaty people. The flight was cramped and hot and he felt as though he was being slowly crushed between two massive bean bags. It was an odd torture having sets of arm fat on either side pressing into his neck. A few rows down stood a pretty flight attendant with a familiar presence to her. He couldn’t place it, and since her back was mostly turned, he couldn’t get a good look. He tried shifting to a better angle, but all the fat around Markus help him in place. He continually moved and contorted. He had to see her. But the fatties were the immovable objects. Frustrated, he reached out and touched the heart of the fatty in sitting in the aisle seat. She instantly slumped over and fell sideways toward the isle. The flight assistant turned around and smiled an evil grin.

“Markus? You look dapper in uniform.  Would you mind helping me move this woman to a more comfortable seat, please?” Shannon said.

Markus stood up and helped Shannon carry the obese corpse to the back of the plane. Once They had some privacy, Shannon remarked “My you’ve given me an extra-large meal today. Well, waste not, want not.”  Then she proceeded to swallow up the massive body.

“How have you been, Mr. Black? It’s been years since we destroyed our hometown together. I see you’re a soldier now. How do you like it?”

“I don’t, but my boss thinks I need discipline. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I have something to tell you, Markus. It’s about the last time we were together.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“How did you know?”

“Tommy told me it was inevitable.”

“Really? That’s interesting; because he told me I needed to avoid you because you would try to reap our child once it was born.”

“What?! Why would I do a thing like that? Killing people may be my job, but I don’t want to kill my own flesh and blood. He told me you would feed me to our child and I needed his protection!”

“Now why would I do a thing like that? I may be evil, but I still want my child to have a father just like any mother wants.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

“What should we do?”

“Let’s get married!”

Markus listened for demonic laughter, but none could be heard. This was serious. Who could he trust? The man who turned him into an instrument of death or the woman who used him to transform herself into a demon and who now feeds on fresh corpses? Life as an immortal bringer of death was full of gambits. 

Chapter 26

“After sleeping with me, you grew wings, literally flew out of my life seeking to feed on the souls of other men, and now, upon learning that you’re pregnant, you think we should get married?! I know you’re a demon, but that’s just plain evil.”

“I just want my child to have a father. That’s all. What wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but since when does a flesh eating creature made from pure evil support traditional family values?”

“Really? Did you just say that? I don’t suppose you’ve ever witnessed the groups who promote traditional values, have you? They’re the most violent, flesh eating devils on the planet!”

“You have a point. But still. Is that what you really want? I’m in the Army now and I can’t get out. More than likely, I’ll be shipped into a war zone overseas, killing people at random on a large scale. It’s a big step up for me.”

“That’s OK. I’m a very busy woman and I have my own schedule and career to attend to. Things will balance out eventually. You do your thing with the Army and I’ll do mine and I promise not to feed you to our child when you return. I just want to be with you, baby. That’s all.”

“Will there even be time for a wedding?”

“Of course there will! That’s my big day. Every girl, especially demonic ones, plan something like this. Don’t you worry about it. I will take care of everything!”

“OK, just let me know so I can make sure it doesn’t conflict with Army life. They’re not the most supportive of family lives, you know?”

“We can handle them. I have connections and with all the demons who serve as officers and cadre, they’ll be more than happy to be supportive of our marriage. I’m sure of it!”

“OK. I’m trusting you.”

“Good boy!” Shannon said with a demonic laugh.

When the plane landed, Markus kissed Shannon goodbye, and he headed out to his new post, excited about his new duties and responsibilities in life. It felt like a fresh start, but with old benefits.    

Chapter 27

When Markus arrived to Fort Braggart, he was greeted by SFC Briggs who gave him an immediate briefing on his training and his new post.

“Regarding training, there will be no training. You are already trained. You’re an angel of freaking death. You kill people. Your job in this man’s army will be to kill lots more people. However, since you are now the property of the US Government, you can only kill people after filing to appropriate paperwork and receiving express written consent from the chain of command authorizing you to kill that person. The only exception is if you are in the Middle East or Southeast Asia. Then you are encouraged to kill thoughtlessly, wantonly, and randomly, especially in the instance of people who are cultural opposites of Americans.”

“Why is this, exactly? Does God hate Middle Eastern peoples and Southeast Asians?”

“Of course He doesn’t! He absolutely loves them. In fact, they’re His favorites. But if you look at a map, they are seated on the right. Western culture is seated on the left, which technically makes us evil and damned because God is right handed.”

“God hates us for being on the left?”

“No. He doesn’t hate us. He ignores us. That’s why Western culture is so chaotic, hypocritical, and wantonly violent. Without the Father and His angels to guide us, we’re stuck with devils, fallen angels, demons, and rogue death angels to create our own ruling system. God could care less about this part of the world. That’s why we go on crusades to the East. We’re trying to get the Holy Father to pay some attention to his left hand side. It seldom works, but sometimes we make him angry enough to smite us and that’s when the good stuff happens.”

“The good stuff?”

“Yeah! Earthquakes, floods, terrorist attacks, wildfires, storms and the like. If we can piss God off enough, he swats us like flies. It’s great! Well, better than being ignored, anyway.”

“Why don’t we just be good and try to gain his favor?”

“We’ve already tried that. It doesn’t work. God is so focused on his right that he routinely forgets the left. That’s just how it is.”

“So left me get this straight, you don’t want me killing any more Americans. But if I want to go on a rampage in Pakistan, that’s completely OK?”   

“Absolutely! In fact, it is expected of you.”

“When do I ship out?”

“Probably in about a month or two. We’ll need to process you in and set you up with some duties here. You look disappointed. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that I haven’t killed a lot of people lately and I miss it. It’s a hard habit to quit cold turkey.”

“I know it’s rough, private. You should do something milder, but still harmer for those around you while you wait to get back on the death wagon. Have you considered taking up smoking?”

“Taking up smoking? I thought it was a bad habit. You make it sound like a hobby.”

“It’s both, really. You know where tobacco comes from originally? America. That’s right! We’ve been innovating death around the world for over 400 years. It’s something Americans seldom appreciate about our culture. We invented the modern prison system, cigarettes, and the majority of the world’s finest weapons of mass destruction. We are the death champions of the world!”

Then SFC Briggs handed Markus a cigarette and a lighter. The pack from which it came from was a brand called Black Death and the box was black with a skull and cross bones as the logo.

“Those are cool!” Markus said as he took a drag. “Where can I buy them?”

“You can get them at any Army PX, kid. They go great with strong black coffee.”

Markus sat there smoking his cigarette pondering his new life of inhaling Black Death, drinking cheap coffee, killing random Arabic and Asian peoples, marrying and impregnating a demon, and he wondered if what he was experiencing was the true fruits of the so-called American Dream, or if he was inventing a new twisted nightmare in the world. By the sounds of things, he was just doing what every American does. Namely, he was a pawn in a deadly scheme to impose American misery on an otherwise happy global civilization through wanton acts of death upon hapless bystanders. He sat there inhaling the smoke wondering if maybe he was being led astray from God’s true purpose for his life and then the demons once again laughed.

Chapter 28

“Alright! This mocking laughter thing has gotten old. Where are you? And what gives you the right?” Markus demanded.

Suddenly, he found himself standing on a stage in front of a live studio audience filled with some of the scurvy-est looking devils he’d ever seen. Judas walked out holding a microphone and said “OK, everybody. Let’s hear it for Markus Black: our favorite angel of death!”

The ovation was deafening. Monsters from everywhere were pounding together their disfigured hands, flippers, metal extensions, hooks, tentacles, whatever they used for clapping.

“Now Markus. In the next episode, we’re going to send you to Asia to kill as many Muslims as you can. How do you feel about this?”

“I’ve never killed people according to their religion. It doesn’t seem right. I’d prefer to just kill people at random.”

The audience booed.

“It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Black. We only kill Christians by accident. Muslims however, die in great numbers and we celebrate. One Christian dies and we mourn it as a tragic passing. One million Muslims die and we praise our God.”

“How can we praise God for killing one million Muslims? That’s horrible!”

“No! It really isn’t. Do you want to know why? I’ll tell you. It’s because at some point, they plan to come here and kill all of us.”

“How do you know this? Do you have any proof?”

“Who needs proof? They have their side and we have ours. The only proof you need is checking which side you were born on. You were born into a Christian family in the West, right Markus?”

“Of course.”

“Then it is your duty to be a total bastard toward Muslims. Simple, really.”

Markus stood on the stage looking around and feeling very uncomfortable with the idea of killing people solely to please a bunch of demons who play games with humanity.  Are there death angels in the East? Perhaps he could meet one and find out their perspective. Markus decided that would be the best course of action. He would go along with the evil plot to make it out East and find a Muslim death angel and perhaps they could restore fairness to the act of reaping souls.

Chapter 29

Meanwhile, in Afghanistan, as a group of young shepherds armed with AK-47’s gathered around their flock, a tall, slender, strikingly beautiful yet strikingly pregnant, raven haired, winged woman approached carrying a jar filled with a mysterious substance. In their own language, she said:

“I give you the blood of the lamb. Drink and be whole.”

The men pointed their weapons at the demon and fired, but their guns jammed in unison. She spoke once again:

“I give you the most precious substance on Earth and you turn your weapons on me? I commanded you fucking machine gun toting goat herding cocksuckers to drink, Goddammit!”

She began to levitate above the ground and suddenly darted through the air, snatching one of the shepherds and lifting him only to drop him screaming to the ground, smashing him to pieces. The other shepherds fled and hid.

“Come back, you fucking cowards! I brought you fucking cock sucking pieces of camel shit a present!”

None of the shepherds heard her, though, for they had all escaped into the nearby mountainous caves.

“You can run, but you can’t hide. I will get you. I’m coming for you!”

Then suddenly, she took flight and vanished.

Chapter 30

Sitting atop the mountain was an old man dressed in white robes. He had observed the carnage for decades. He abhorred the violence and corruption that plagued the world around him. Yet, somehow he always survived. Whether the foreigners came from the East, the West, the North, or the South, he continued to pray for peace, wander the wilderness, and remain a presence in the mountainous desert lands year after year. He’d seen many new and old faces of death invade his land. But he never wavered in his duties.

The local tribes had legends of him being shot by troops, bombed by airplanes, and even hit by UAV rockets without ever being harmed. During battles and after massacres, he was often seen weeping somewhere in a high place. Weeping and praying. Quietly, he wept and prayed seldom drawing attention to himself, but impossible to ignore. No one knew who he was. Nor did they know his name, but he had become more than human. He had grown into a legend.

He stood high above as Shannon cursed and threatened, then disappeared. He wept as he looked at the shattered bones and bloody corpse of the shepherd she had dropped. When he cried, his tears turned to blood and the mountains wept bloody tears with him until their tears spilled over the body. When the tears touched the battered shepherd, he stood up, healed and healthy. He looked up and saw the man in the white robes turn his back and walk away. Then he knew he had just been saved from death.

End of Book 1