The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle (86 page)

He didn’t answer. He just held on to her. She held him
tighter.

- - -*  *  *- -
-

You’re a child of the Devil! A
son of Satan!

Daddy! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!

I’ll teach you to do something like that again! Come
here!

Don’t hurt me, Daddy!

Come here, you little spawn of Lucifer! Let me show you
how it’s done properly!

No, Daddy! Stay back!

What the—?

Stay back, Daddy!

No! It cannot be! It...it’s impossible! Stay away from
me! Don’t touch me! Don’t!

‘
NO!
’ Victor shouted as he jerked awake.

‘I’m sorry, Supreme Excellency,’ Ryan said and removed
his hand from Victor’s arm. ‘You had a disturbing dream, and I thought it best
to wake you.’

‘You thought well,’ Victor said and ran his fingers
through his hair. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s almost time for dinner, my Lord.’

Victor sighed and sunk back into his lofty couch. ‘Do
you know what I want to do to those who refuse the Shield?’ he asked as he
wiped perspire from his forehead.

‘Please tell me, my Lord.’

Victor took a few heavy breaths. ‘I want to kill them,
Ryan. I want to kill them all.’ His voice picked up pace, and the words came
out with a hiss. ‘I want them to suffer and bleed. I want their suffering to be
slow and painful; keeping them alive just long enough to regret the day that
they were born.’

‘That’s good, my sovereign Lord,’ Ryan said. His
attention was focused on every word that his master was uttering.

‘I want the rebel Jews and the terrorist scum impaled
on stakes. I want their heads chopped off and delivered to their families.’

‘They deserve it, my Lord,’ Ryan encouraged.

‘In fact,’ Victor said, ‘I want their entire families
wiped out too in the most gruelling manner possible.’

‘Excellent, my Lord.’

Victor sighed and stared out the window into the
darkness of night outside. It was pitch black except for the occasional flash
of lighting in the distance. ‘Why are they doing this, Ryan?’

‘I...I’m not sure I understand what you mean, my Lord.’

‘I offer the people of this planet hope. I offer them security,
protection, love, peace and stability. What do they do? They throw it back at
my face. Why?’

‘Because their hearts are filled with evil, my Lord.’

‘Correct, Ryan. They are filled with evil. And once
this evil is plucked out; once this cancer is removed from our planet, we can
start living the way that I intended us to live when I created the world.’

‘I will help you uproot this evil, sir,’ Ryan pledged.
‘I will go to the four corners of this Earth with you and slay as many of them
as required to achieve your goal.’

‘Go to the four corners of the Earth...’ Victor
repeated. A sinister plan was being born. ‘I like that.’

‘We can build the most powerful Empire this world has
ever seen, my Lord; and once you rule over all, we will achieve perfect peace and
harmony.’

‘Yes,’ Victor said after a moment of thought. ‘That is
what we shall do: we will conquer the world for peace.’

- - -*  *  *- -
-

Trevor knocked softly on René’s
bedroom door.

‘Come in, Trev,’ her voice sang from
within.

‘Whatcha doin’?’ he asked as he entered the
room. He had never really gone into the room after she unofficially moved in,
and for a moment he thought that he was in another apartment.

‘I’m packing,’ she answered and hummed a
tune as she continued doing so.

‘I can see that,’ he said. ‘But where are
you going?’

‘I’m making my pilgrimage to Al Jalil.
We’ll be heading out to Jerusalem first, and then head on to Al Jalil from
there.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah. A few friends of mine and I are making the trip
together. It’s going to be great fun, and I might even get to see our God in
the flesh.’

‘But what about your job? Where will you stay? What
will you eat?’

René stopped packing and smiled at her concerned
friend. ‘My friends have people on that side. I will do odd jobs for some Shield
Credits, but I have saved up for a rainy day.’

‘That’s it?’ Trevor asked. ‘You’re leaving?’ The
reality of being alone again struck him hard. ‘Just like that?’

‘It’s not like I was going to live here forever, Trev,’
she said and walked toward him. ‘You know that.’

‘I know...it’s just...so sudden; almost unreal.’

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.
The two of them embraced and for a moment time stood still. ‘I will be back,’
she said. ‘I’m going for two years max, and when I come back, the two of us
could have a massive party, if you’d want to.’

‘I want to...’ Trevor said softly and hugged her
tighter.

‘I’ll be back,’ she said as a tear rolled down her
cheek. ‘I promise.’

- - -*  *  *- -
-

Andrew didn’t hear the pounding on
his door at first. The pounding became louder, but it was only after something
struck hard and heavy against his door that he jerked upright. He ran down the
hallway when the door crashed open and armed N-Force officers piled in, machine
guns aimed and ready.

‘What’s this?’ Andrew asked, bewildered, and still not
fully awake yet. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Are you Andrew Parker?’ one of the officers barked and
shone a flashlight in his face.

‘I am,’ Andrew said and tried to shield his eyes from
the intruding light. ‘What do you want?’

‘You are under arrest for acts of terrorism against the
Empire,’ the officer said as another cuffed him. ‘Please come with us.’

‘You cannot do this to me,’ Andrew protested. ‘I—I have
rights!’

‘Please remain quiet and come with us,’ the officer
said and walked out of the apartment.

‘I’m not a terrorist,’ Andrew protested as he was being
led down the corridor. Some neighbours stuck their heads out from their doors
to see what the commotion was about. Andrew saw one of the elderly ladies that
he usually bought some groceries for. ‘Tell them I’m innocent,’ he shouted in
her direction. ‘Please, missus G, tell them that I’m not a terrorist!’

She didn’t say anything. She merely closed her door.

- - -*  *  *- -
-

‘Talk pig!’ the N-Force interrogation
officer spat in Andrew’s face. ‘Who do you work for?’

‘No one,’ Andrew said, still convinced that he wasn’t a
terrorist. ‘I told you that already.’

‘Who do you work for?’ the man growled, ignoring
Andrew’s remark.

‘I work for myself,’ Andrew said. ‘I have my own little
clothing business.’

‘Who is your leader?’

‘What leader?’

A smack against Andrew’s ear sent a sharp stabbing pain
to his brain.

‘Who is your leader?’ the interrogator asked again.

‘I follow no one other than Jesus Christ,’ Andrew said.

‘So you admit to being a terrorist?’

‘I never said that,’ Andrew protested. ‘I’m a
Christian, not a terrorist. I believe in love, not war.’

‘Will you accept the Shield of Victor for your
protection?’

‘No,’ Andrew said. He started realizing how futile his
situation was.

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘You make this hard only on yourself, Mister Parker,’
the interrogator said and nodded to someone standing behind Andrew. Immediately
a hard object struck the back of Andrew’s head, and he fell forward to the
ground.

‘Come now, Mister Parker,’ he said mockingly. ‘Do you
really wish to go through this?’

Andrew didn’t respond. He just got back up. He swayed a
little from the dizziness.

‘Do you confess that your leader, Jesus, is a terrorist
leader and a fake?’ the interrogator asked. ‘Do you also confess that Sovereign
Emperor, Victor Yoshe is the true, living Lord and Saviour?’

‘No...’

Another blow to the side of his head sent him crashing
into some chairs.

‘Pick him up,’ the interrogator said, and two guards
rushed in and jerked Andrew to his feet. Blood streamed down the side of his
head, and he was starting to lose colour in his face.

‘And now,’ the interrogator said as he cracked his
knuckles. ‘Let us show him what we
really
do with terrorists.’

- - -*  *  *- -
-

‘I’m reporting to you live from
Pretoria, South Africa,’ the GMN newsreader shouted excitedly at the camera.
‘What we are witnessing here today is the second public crucifixion since the
reinstitution of this form of execution by Lord Yoshe.’

A large crowd had gathered outside the building where
Andrew had been continuously beaten and tortured the previous evening, and spat
at him as he painfully tried to make his way down the path that the N-Force
officers had cleared for him. His legs lost their strength, and he crashed into
the ground.

‘Get up, punk!’ an N-Force officer yelled at Andrew and
hit him across the back of his neck with a nightstick. The crowd loved this and
cheered their approval at the officer as he struck Andrew again and again.

Trevor flinched as the guard kicked Andrew in the face.
Ouch!
He thought to himself.
That had to hurt!
He didn’t shout
and cheer with the rest of the crowd, but he did feel some sort of satisfaction
in watching Andrew suffer. He justified it by the suffering that Andrew had put
him through by not taking the Shield when those relentless invisible creatures
stung him nonstop. Now it was Andrew’s turn to suffer.

The officer allowed people to pelt Andrew with
heavy—and sometimes sharp—objects, while he kept mocking and taunting the
terrorist.

‘Let your Jesus save you,’ he yelled and then slammed a
huge fist into Andrew’s face. ‘See? There’s no one here but you, pig!’

Yeah, Andy,
Trevor thought.
Where’s your
Jesus now? If he shows up, I might just convert.

Two N-Force officers flung Andrew’s limp body to the
ground next to the wooden cross and then proceeded to lift him onto the cross
and spread his arms along the beam.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Metal drove through flesh as the guards pounded a heavy
steel pen into Andrew’s arm. A faint scream escaped his lips with each
pounding.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The crowd stopped shouting and cursing as the pens were
nailed into his ankles. Two minutes later, the officers lifted the heavy cross,
and it snapped into position, instantly dislocating both of Andrew’s shoulders.
A ghostly silence hung in the air for a few seconds longer and then the crowd
exploded into cheers and laughter. Trevor caught himself cheering with them.

That’ll teach you to make me hurt like that for
nothing!

‘Where’s your Jesus now, hatemonger?’ an N-Force
officer taunted.

Andrew struggled to breathe. He was weak, and the pain
in his arms prevented him from pulling himself up even slightly.

Trevor picked up a rock. He wanted Andrew to feel the
stinging pain that he had to endure for five months. He pulled his arm back and
was about to throw the rock when their eyes locked for a brief moment. No words
of hatred or revenge came from Andrew. Only saddened eyes, filled with blood
and tears, but yet full of love and forgiveness.

Something inside Trevor snapped and he dropped the
rock. He looked at Andrew one last time, and then broke free from the crowd,
fleeing as tears stung his eyes. He ran as fast as he could manage, crying
loudly. Finally, he stopped and dropped to his knees.

‘What have I done?’ he cried as people in the distance
cheered. ‘I’m sorry, Andy...I’m so terribly sorry...’

There was one final burst of cheers before everything
quietened down.

- - -*  *  *- -
-

‘He is dead,’ the N-Force officer
announced, much to the satisfaction of the crowd. ‘We will cut off his head and
impale it on the main street so that everyone can see what we do with
terrorists around here.’

The crowd applauded.

‘We must collect as many of the terrorists’ hate-filled
propaganda and bring it here to burn with the remains of his body. Find as many
Bibles as you can, and bring them here. Bring their owners too, so that they
can be burned along with their anarchist cookbooks!’