Out of nowhere, there was this horrific, loud, deafening blast. It was like a few hundred rabid elephants in heat being tortured, like every last song with tubas being played at once. By the time I struggled up from the depths of sleep and staggered out into the yard, most of my city was in flames. The walls had collapsed. Thousands who lived in or near them must be dead. The invading hordes seemed intent on destroying us to the last man.
I got off a few short bursts, wounding a few of the infidels. Then my AK jammed. Before I could free it mortar fire hit all around me, and I had to eat dirt. Flames were springing up everywhere.
Fire behind me, to my left, and to my right. No idea where my regiment is. I stand alone with a jammed AK-47 in my Batman boxers to defend a few women and a goat from the invaders.
Twelve of them come at me. Judging by their colors, there's one from each division. Great. They'll all be trying to outdo one another. Mightiest man of God and all that.
I pull the pin on my last grenade, count, and throw it. They dive, I dive, we all dive for cover. Nothing happens. One of them laughs as they get up. He picks up the dud grenade and heaves it into a nearby burning comm shack, where it explodes, knocking us all back down.
Nobody is hurt by the blast, but the women are screaming behind me as the invaders approach, confidently. Smugly, even. The Kalashnikov is still jammed. Despite all the kids and infidels I've sent to Baal, it looks like he's deserted me now.
The goat butts me from behind and breaks for freedom. As it runs into the enemy ahead, one of them tosses an empty magazine at it. The tall guy in Benjamin's Division throws a satchel charge around the distracted goat's neck and swats it off in the direction of what's left of Abdul's Terrorist Camp.
One of the women, a joy girl I recognize, is screaming something about this all being Rahab's fault. I don't know what she means and I don't have time to worry about it-- the enemy is closing fast. The guy wearing the colors of Dan's Division is grinning like a thief.
I throw down my rifle, reaching for my pistol. I realize my belt, like my uniform, was in the room burning so brightly off to my right. I throw up my hands, but the grin just gets bigger and the Uzi comes up. I suspect they remember my face from TV a few years back after we torched that hospital in Tel Aviv. I have a sinking feeling surrender is not an option...
The first version of this wandered into cyberspace in 1989. Inspired by Dreams So Real's song of the same name. it drew from the (hopefully obvious) Biblical references and the tension in the Middle East, especially between Israel and Palestine. While there were terrorist events in 1989, to the best of my knowledge nobody torched a hospital in Tel Aviv. This is NOT a political statement of any sort. It's simply an ancient story in a modern setting, told from a different vantage point.
Copyright 1989, 1994, 2011 Miles O'Neal, Round Rock, TX. All rights reserved. Please contact author regarding republication or distribution.
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