Estimated reading time — 25 minutes

Everywhere around me was fire, chaos, and death. The complex was under siege and my side was losing. The roof above me was burning and bullets were flying through the smashed window frames, whizzing only inches over my head as I cowered behind an overturned table.

Brother Jacob was six yards to my right, his brains blown out all over the tiled floor. I felt sick when I looked upon his lifeless body, recalling the comradeship we’d had in better times. Sister Mary was curled up in the foetal position in the corner of the small room we occupied. I thought she’d suffered a mental breakdown, as I could see the woman shaking uncontrollably and muttering incoherently to herself.

I coughed as the smoke filled up my lungs. The fire was quickly consuming the room, and I knew we couldn’t stay here for much longer. Next, I checked the magazine in my pistol, cursing as I counted only four remaining rounds.

We were in bad shape in this outpost. I didn’t know how the rest of the commune were doing – but the constant gunfire, shouts, and screams I heard in the distance certainly didn’t bode well. It pained me to think of my brothers and sisters suffering and dying at the hands of these jackbooted government enforcers.

These people were my family, more so than my own parents and siblings had ever been.

I dreaded to think what would happen to the children. My only consolation was the salvation which had been promised to each and every one of us. Our mortal bodies may perish on this day, but our eternal souls would be welcomed into paradise with open arms.

The smoke thickened and I struggled to breathe. Panic started to creep in before I steeled myself, remembering my weapons training and religious instruction. There was a sudden pause in the shooting, a brief respite from the deadly barrage. I could hear the feds calling to each other outside and realised they were co-ordinating their assault upon our outpost.

This wasn’t good, but it did present an opportunity for escape. I looked to the back door of the burning building I occupied, thinking I could make it with a swift dash. But there was a problem. I couldn’t leave her behind. I looked to the quaking woman in the corner, shouting out to break her from the shock-induced trance.

“Mary! Mary! Look at me!”

Mary raised her head from her hands and I could see her bloodshot eyes underneath her dishevelled dirty blonde hair. Clearly she was terrified, but I needed to reach Mary if she was to stand a chance of survival.

“Mary. The feds are coming in. We need to move. We need to move now and get to the hall. Do you understand?”

She nodded her head in acknowledgement, although I wondered how aware poor Mary was at this point. Meanwhile, the smoke and heat intensified, and I could hear the feds speaking at the door, meaning a breach was surely imminent.

“Okay Mary. We’re going to make a run for the back door on three, okay?”

She nodded.

I took a deep breath before continuing. “One, two, three…”

I was up on my feet before uttering the last number, but the feds chose that moment to smash through the door. I glanced in that direction as the thin wood was kicked in, seeing the black clad stormtroopers enter whilst wearing respirators and with rifles raised.

“Freeze motherfuckers!” the lead agent screamed.

I ignored the order, instead firing two shots from my pistol. One round struck the fed in his exposed neck, his blood spraying as he grasped at his throat and collapsed. One down, but the rest of the SWAT team piled in, furious and ready to avenge their dead comrade as they filled the room with bullets.

Mary was up but unfortunately she didn’t make it far. As soon as the bullets started flying the woman froze, her eyes wide with terror as she screamed bloody murder. Mary was unarmed and helpless. She posed no threat, but the feds shot her down nonetheless, her body performing a macabre death dance as multiple rounds cut through her.

I cursed with fury upon witnessing the slaughter of my sister, but her death provided me with a brief window to save my own skin. Staying low, I darted towards the back door, turning the handle and diving out the exit.

Bullets flew all around but somehow they all missed me, and I made it out in one piece. Now I was outside and I could breathe again, but I found little respite.

The burning building was behind me and the feds were in hot pursuit. I continued to run, sprinting through the courtyard at the centre of the complex. All around me was anarchy, and multiple gun battles played out between commune members and federal agents. Bullets were flying in all direction and multiple buildings were burning.

Our people were putting up a fierce resistance, but we were outnumbered, outgunned, and clearly on the back foot. I saw many of my brothers and sisters firing upon the enemy, but all were in retreat…all fleeing to the community hall where our brethren were sheltering and our messiah was waiting.

The grand hall sat in the very centre of the complex and acted as our last line of defence. We’d been preparing for this day a long time. The solid concrete walls had small slit-like windows which acted as firing ports, and the structure was large enough to provide shelter to our entire community of one thousand men, women, and children.

The only indication as to the hall’s true purpose was the high cross ascending from the steeple at its front. For years we had attended daily sermons inside these halls, listening intently to the inspirational words of our messiah as we dedicated our minds, bodies, and souls to his spiritual cause. And now the holy mission was coming to its inevitable conclusion.

All my surviving brothers and sisters were fleeing now, firing as they went. Most didn’t make it. Sniper bullets from the perimeter and the buzzing helicopters in the skies above killed many. The survivors – me included – sprinted for our lives across the dead ground.

The heavy steel doors of the hall were slowly closing. My brothers were fighting to keep the entrance open for as long as they could, but they were running out of time. I saw rounds striking the concrete walls and kicking up dirt all around me. I don’t know how I made it through unscathed, but I doubt it was God’s will.

But I was one of the last to make it inside before the heavy doors were slammed shut. I took a moment to catch my breath, hardly believing I was still alive – even though I suspected this would be a temporary state of affairs. Because, when I observed the scene around me, I discovered the hall had descended into pandemonium.

Gunmen stood at the narrow windows, firing out at the advancing feds.

Meanwhile, the pinewood floor was covered in blood and the bodies of the wounded, dying, and dead. We had medically trained people but clearly they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of casualties. Meanwhile, children were screaming in terror, unable to understand why this extreme violence was being inflicted upon them.

Husbands and wives were crying in grief over the bodies of their dead spouses, and dazed community members walked the hall in a state of shock, completely disassociated from their surroundings. I saw many who I knew well – my surrogate family.

There was Brother Trevor who’d led the kids on fishing trips on the weekends. Now he was bleeding out from a bullet wound to the gut. And Sister Elena, who’d baked cupcakes for the community every Sunday. Now she wandered aimlessly through the carnage, her clothes and skin burnt, and her eyes filled with shock and terror.

But most concerning was the activity of the council members who were still breathing. I saw them at the front of the hall, working feverishly throughout the chaos as they filled plastic cups with a suspicious coloured liquid and laid them out on tables. And, standing on the raised pulpit overlooking us all, was our earthly saviour – the man-turned-messiah who’d built this community from scratch, only to lead us down the path of destruction.

Dr Charles Abraham Robinson, in the flesh. Here was the man who’d built this movement – starting as a small town pastor but ultimately chosen as God’s messenger, sent to Earth to save a select few from the coming apocalypse.

Robinson had taken hundreds of lost souls such as me and given our lives meaning and purpose. He’d forged us into an army, totally devoted to his vision and ready to fight and die in this war of the end times.

There’d been a time when I’d regarded Robinson as the greatest man on Earth. But now, in this moment of bloody chaos and collapse, he appeared weak – his once immaculately maintained blonde hair now dishevelled and wild, and his once focussed blue eyes filled with something close to madness.

He stood in his characteristic white robes, now stained red with blood, and he spoke into the microphone – his piercing, engaging voice which had captured our hearts and minds booming through the speakers, loud enough that his words could be heard even over the screams and gunshots.

“My people! My children! My loyal soldiers!” he exclaimed.

I’ll admit that Robinson’s words still carried currency, even though his position was severely weakened.

“Our fortunes…They may seem to have taken a bad turn. But rest assured! This is not the end for our glorious movement. Far from it! This is not the hour of our defeat. It is the hour of our victory! Our brothers and sisters have fallen in battle…that is undeniable. But they have made the ultimate sacrifice for our glorious movement! God smiles upon our martyrs, and they are with him now. In his Holy Kingdom.

Do not weep for our fallen. Because we will see them again…so soon, in paradise. Step forward, my children. Take the nourishment provided. This will guide you through the transition. Drink, my brethren! And soon, this will all be just a distant memory. Come my children and join me in paradise!”

This was the moment…the point where my belief in Robinson broke. It was clear now that he’d led us to slaughter – provoking a violent confrontation with the federal government which we couldn’t possibly win. And now, with our backs to the wall, his only solution was mass suicide, sacrificing the flock he claimed to love so he could die a martyr.

I hated Robinson and the council in that moment. I wanted to kill them for this betrayal. But I couldn’t. There were only two rounds left in my gun. Not enough. In the end, I couldn’t even speak out against the coming atrocity. Instead I was frozen in horror, merely observing the revolting scenes from the periphery.

What shocked me the most was the enthusiastic compliance of so many of my brothers and sisters. Many simply walked forward towards the table where they gladly took hold of their plastic cups filled with poison, accepting the deadly concoction like it was a refreshing beverage.

Worst was the children who drank the poison with their parent’s encouragement. The most sickening sight was Sister Teresa forcing the liquid down the throats of her two young children, Tom and Sarah. All the while she comforted her kids, saying they would soon join daddy in heaven.

I witnessed all this evil and yet I did nothing to stop it, instead holding back like a coward whilst the massacre played out. Soon dozens of community members were keeled over, vomiting and violently convulsing on the floor as the deadly poison took hold. Their deaths were far from painless but at least their suffering was short.

But not all were willing to the drink the Kool aid. Many community members had surely come to the same grim realisation as I had. They saw their brothers and sisters convulsing on the floor and the guards dropping one-by-one at the windows, cut down by sniper bullets. The game was up, and those who’d survived this long weren’t willing to die for a lost cause.

Robinson continued to rant and rave from the pulpit, speaking of blood sacrifice and holy war. But few were still listening. Now men, women, and children were backing away from the killing zone, slowly making their way towards the door. I joined their number, thinking that I had a better chance of survival if I surrendered to the feds.

The crowd surged forward towards the hall’s front door as panic began to set in. There was only one armed guard still breathing – Brother Bob, a large, bearded man wearing a lumberjack shirt and armed with a pump-action shotgun. Bob was outnumbered but he didn’t stand down, instead cocking the gun whilst shouting out a warning.

“Don’t come a step closer! Get the hell back, all of you!”

One man ignored the threat, lunging forward in a foolish attempt to grab the shotgun. Bob responded instantly by blowing the guy’s head clean off. Blood and brain matter sprayed out in all directions, and the mob retreated in terror.

This was when I made my move, pushing through the crowd and taking Bob unawares whilst he was reloading. I fired my two remaining bullets into the guard’s chest, watching as his lifeless body collapsed to the blood-stained floor.

The escapees surged forward once again, and there was no-one left to oppose them. I vaguely heard Robinson shouting from the distant pulpit, ordering his ‘children’ to stop and return. But nobody listened. I cast one last look at the butcher priest, catching his eye and registering my contempt for the man. I hoped I’d never see the bastard again.

By now, the frantic crowd had forced open the steel doors, escaping one slaughter and walking straight into another. A fed was outside the door waiting for them, his gas mask off and a look of pure hatred in his dark eyes.

My brothers and sisters were unarmed and raised their hands to surrender, but the fed didn’t care.

“You fucking freaks!” he screamed, “You killed my buddies!”

A second later and he opened fire with his sub-machinegun, spraying the front row of the crowd with deadly bullets. A half dozen or so fell, dead or dying. Meanwhile, the agent reached for a fresh magazine, eager to continue the massacre.

I acted quickly, grabbing hold of Bob’s discarded shotgun and firing upon the fed. The buckshot hit him in the face, tearing his skull apart. The remaining escapees fled in all directions, sprinting across the open ground in a desperate bid for freedom.

Meanwhile, I stood over the dead agent, admiring my grim handiwork. I didn’t expect to be alive for much longer, and so it was no surprise when the bullet struck me. I never saw the sniper who shot me, but the impact of the round knocked my body backwards, as all the air was sucked out of my lungs.

I hit the ground hard, my last conscious sight being of the grey skies and the helicopter gunship hovering above me. A moment later and my eyes closed, the darkness taking me as I left the mortal plane.

_________

What struck me first was the heat, the burning on my back which forced me to jump up before I even opened my eyes. I struggled to catch my breath and I inhaled the thick, stifling air. And when I opened my eyes, I realised I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

Gone was the fortified complex under grey skies. Instead I found myself in a desert of burning hot red sands stretching for miles in every direction, all set under an ominous sky coloured a shade of dark crimson. The stench which hit my nostrils was something similar to rotting eggs. I didn’t know what this place was and how I’d got here, but I could hazard a guessWhen I struggled to my feet, a cold chill ran down my spine despite the stifling heat. Observing my surroundings, I saw the immense desert stretching into the east, west, and south. But on the northern horizon sat a large and ominous mountain, its peak ascending up into the blood red skies.

My body was intact and the bullet wound in my chest had miraculously healed. But still I didn’t feel right, like my soul had been forcibly removed from my mortal flesh and dumped into this empty shell. I still wore my light blue uniform from the commune, and the shotgun I’d used to kill the fed lay at my feet. I picked up the weapon, deciding I might need the gun in this potentially hostile hellscape.

Next, I noticed I wasn’t alone in this desolate environment. My brothers and sisters were by my side – not all of them, but a substantial number. I watched in shocked awe as dozens of my former friends and neighbours slowly rose from the desert floor, their eyes wide with shock and terror as they awoke in this mysterious hellscape.

All still wore their blue jumpsuits and many were still armed, carrying the same pistols, shotguns, and rifles they’d used in life. But the commune members weren’t the only ones here. There were feds too – at least a dozen of them, clad in black body armour and clutching hold of their assault rifles and sub-machineguns.

The agents were just as confused as we were to end up in this place. But the feds soon realised they were heavily outnumbered by their former enemies, and they were understandably nervous, keeping their fingers poised on the triggers.

I recognised one of the feds – the gunman who’d massacred my companions in the doorway…The man who I’d shot in the face at close range. The fed recognised me too, his dead eyes lighting up with a fiery desire for vengeance as he raised his weapon and aimed at me across the open ground.

“Freeze you son-of-a-bitch!” he screamed, “Drop that fucking gun!”

I don’t know whether the agent was disorientated or just dumb, but pulling a gun on me wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t raise my weapon, but my companions did, and soon the feds had dozens of guns pointed at them.A tense stand-off ensued. I didn’t know what would happen if the bullets started to fly. I strongly suspected we were all already dead, so how could we die for a second time? But, despite the hatred I’d had for my enemy back on the mortal plane, I didn’t have a desire to spill more blood in this otherworldly realm.

Luckily there were further distractions which prevented violence from unfolding. First came the blood-curdling scream – that of a woman carrying out in grief.

“My babies! Where are my babies?”

The stand-off de-escalated as the gunmen turned to face her. I saw Teresa – my former sister – tears running down her cheeks as she stumbled across the hot sands. I remembered what had happened in the complex…what she’d done. Teresa had willingly fed poison to her young children before ending her own life in the same manner.

Teresa had expected to join her family in paradise, but instead she’d ended up here…and Tom and Sarah were somewhere else. In fact, none of the community’s children were present, and for that I was grateful.

Whilst Teresa continued her self-indulgent howling, a shout rang out from further down the line.

“The messiah! Our leader has arrived!”

I looked over the heads of the gunmen and the feds to confirm the sighting. Robinson was indeed here, joining his followers on the red sands. He arose from the ground in his blood-stained robes – appearing dishevelled, confused, and more than a little scared. I’d already lost faith in Robinson following the massacre in the complex. But still, it shocked me to see him in such a sorry state, with all his charisma and charm gone…at least for that moment.

The council members had made it here too, and they quickly resumed their previous responsibilities by forming a crude circle around their beloved leader, seeing to his well-being before their own. The inner circle remained steadfastly loyal to their messiah, but others weren’t so sure.

“What is this? Where have you brought us?” shouted one.“

You lied to us Robinson!” cried another.“

This isn’t heaven, it’s hell!”

The last heckler said what we were surely all thinking, but saying the words out loud resulted in a mass panic, as the horrifying reality hit home. My stomach was in knots, but I controlled my fear and looked to Robinson, because I was interested to see how the so-called messiah would react to this terrifying revelation.

I’ll have to give credit to Robinson. At first he seemed on the brink of a mental breakdown, but the cult leader was highly adaptable and could always turn a crisis into an opportunity. I observed him closely, noting the malicious glint in Robinson’s eye as the plan formed in his head.

“Attention!” Robinson suddenly shouted, “Attention my children! My loyal followers…”

The leader no longer had a microphone or speaker system, but his booming voice still carried across the barren desert, and his remaining followers took notice.

“My beloved. Our glorious mission has entered a new phase. This place…this realm. It is not where we want to be. But do not despair, my children! God has spoken to me, and he’s told me his plan. Our presence here is a test…a test of our faith. There are hardships ahead, but also the path to salvation.”

He paused briefly, turning to point dramatically at the mountain on the northern horizon.

“You see it, do you not? Mount Ararat…the setting for our ascension…for our rebirth. You have followed me this far, and I ask you to follow for just a while longer. Cross this desert with me children, and all that was promised will be yours.”

It was quite the speech – I’ll give him that. I saw through Robinson’s lies. He’d tricked me once but wouldn’t again. But others were more gullible, or perhaps they just didn’t want to admit they’d died for a lie. And, before long, mutters and rumbles of approval came from the crowd, and my heart sank as I realised Robinson was still in control.

The mob quickly organised and followed their leader, and I went with them. Why, you might well ask? I no longer believed in Robinson and knew he wasn’t leading us to salvation. At best, he was biding for time. At worst, the man had completely lost his mind. But what choice did I have? There was nowhere else to go. The distant mountain was hardly welcoming, but it was also the only geographical feature of note in this otherwise barren, featureless desert.

Besides, I thought it was better to have safety in numbers. Nobody wanted to be left alone out here in this hellscape. Even the feds joined the march, albeit reluctantly. Surprisingly, Robinson was welcoming to his former enemies, declaring them as our new brothers-in-arms.

I found myself in unlikely company during the early stages of our march, walking alongside two people who I should have hated. My first companion was Teresa – the woman who’d poisoned her own children. And the second was the federal agent I’d killed with the shotgun, whose name was Miller.

“I don’t understand,” Miller exclaimed indignantly as we walked, “I shouldn’t be here. You people…you’re the fanatics! You’re fucking terrorists! I’m one of the good guys. I was only doing my duty for God’s sake!”

“You shot down unarmed people who were trying to surrender.” I replied sharply, “Was that part of your duties?”

Miller grumbled and shook his head, but he had no response. It seemed he couldn’t justify his actions back on Earth, and perhaps he was ashamed of his part in the bloodbath. Teresa was a different prospect however.

“I had a crisis of faith back there, I’ll admit it.” she explained, “I expected to awake in paradise with my family by my side. But I understand now. A test…just one more challenge to reach salvation. We must trust our messiah. He knows what’s best for us…”

“You killed your own kids.” I spat in disgust.

“No!” Teresa shot back, her eyes lighting up with anger as she pointed her bony finger at me. “I set my babies free from their mortal prison. I freed them from their suffering. They await me in paradise. You will see, doubting Thomas. Soon, you will see!”

There was nothing I could say to the woman. Teresa was a true believer, and she would follow Robinson to the bitter end.

We walked for hours through the red desert. The mountain didn’t seem to get any closer, and the hellish environment gradually wore us down. The march through the boiling desert was exhausting, although we kept on walking and didn’t need water or food. Perhaps our new bodies didn’t require such sustenance. Nevertheless, the going was tough.

It wasn’t just the stifling heat, the foul stench, and the impending sense of doom. There were subtler and more supernatural threats out in the desert. The wind picked up as we walked, and disembodied voices could be heard upon it. Those voices were disconcerting to say the least.

One moment we heard blood-curdling screams of souls being tormented, and the next we got bombarded with sadistic, demonic laughter. Some claimed to hear the calls of deceased loved ones carried by the warm desert winds. Luckily, I was spared this terror, but worse was to come.

The words grew in intensity, and soon a sandstorm formed, adding to our mutual discomfort as we were choked and visibility dropped to near zero. I didn’t know how we could continue in such poor conditions. As it happened, the sandstorm didn’t last long, but it was merely a cover for the coming attack.

When the dust settled, we were confronted with a phantom army – a company of ghouls on both our left and right, hundreds strong and charging our party with a bloodthirsty desire, exerting a chilling war cry as they came.

A moment of shocked terror ensued before the cooler heads amongst our number – feds and cultists both – took charge, realising we would need to defend ourselves from this hellish rabble.

As our attackers came into view, I was astonished to see the variety amongst their number. This was truly a motley company, made up of warriors from throughout history. From my position I could see Roman legionnaires with shields and short swords, Viking berserkers with war axes, Mongol archers, Conquistador pikemen, Redcoats carrying muskets, and Nazi infantrymen wielding bolt-loaded rifles.

Here was an army of warriors and killers from the ages, now all focussed on one goal – to butcher our party where we stood. Although they weren’t well co-ordinated, the dead soldiers were furious, and their charge was a terrifying sight. But we weren’t defenceless in this fight.

Our defenders – me included – formed a protective perimeter around the party. Men and women with rifles opened up first, taking out the first wave at long range. Then those with handguns and shotguns fired whenever the attackers got close.

The ramshackle army of the dead took heavy losses, as many of their number were cut down – their bodies falling to the hot sands. But the surviving soldiers kept coming. And once they reached the line, it was bloody mayhem.

I saw my former brothers and sisters fall, hit by arrows and bullets or butchered by sword, spear, and axe. It was a bloodbath. But still our side kept fighting.

A trio of Roman soldiers charged me with swords drawn. I saw the hatred in their dead eyes and acted on instinct, firing and reloading in quick succession. I killed two legionnaires with shotgun blasts, but the third was on top of me before I could reload.

The Roman knocked me down with his shield and I fell heavily onto the sands. My attacker stood over me – a sadistic grin on his lips as he made to plunge the sword into my chest. I prepared for the blow, but suddenly a shot rang out, and the legionnaire’s head exploded in a display of bloody carnage.

Once his body fell, I looked to my left and saw the man who’d fired the fatal shot. It was Agent Miller. My former nemesis had become my saviour. I sat up and prepared to thank Miller. But I never got a chance, because a moment later the agent was set upon by a Viking berserker who buried his axe in Miller’s skull.

I watched in impotent horror as the life went out of the agent’s eyes and his body collapsed to the sands like a lifeless ragdoll. The Viking pulled the axe out of his victim’s head with the intention of continuing his rampage. But he didn’t get the chance, because shortly after the berserker was cut down by a burst of automatic gunfire.

I don’t know how we survived the onslaught. Our people fought desperately and hand-to-hand against our devilish enemy. We slaughtered them to the last man, finishing the final warriors with the butts of our guns.

Victory was achieved, but the cost was high. I estimated that at least half of our number had been butchered in the battle, with hundreds of bodies left to rot on the red sands.

I wondered how this worked. All of us were already dead, having perished on the mortal plane. Now we were dying all over again, the fear and pain just as real as before. My comrades’ bodies were lying before me, but where were their souls? Had they gone somewhere better, or somewhere worse? It terrified me to think of such things, even though I reckoned I would find out myself soon enough.

Robinson had survived the attack unscathed. This was hardly surprising, given that he’d been protected by the defensive perimeter and hadn’t needed to do any fighting. But Robinson’s mere survival seemed to back up his claims of divine protection, and his supporter’s loyalty was without question. This group included Teresa, who’d made it through in one piece – her steadfast belief unwavering.

Robinson made another speech which I hardly listened to. He spoke of the brave sacrifice by our soldiers and the fight still to come, and he repeated his promise of salvation…once we reached the mountain. And then we continued our deadly march across the burning sands.

We looked warily to the open ground surrounding us, not knowing when the next assault would take place. But, as it turned out, the second attack upon our party didn’t come from the ground but rather the skies above us.

One of the cultists shouted out a warning, pointing upwards at a distant speck in the crimson sky…distant, but quickly coming closer. To our collective horror, we realised the speck was a flying beast descending upon us. And soon it was joined by another…and another. A flock of winged monsters, swarming around us like vultures over a fresh corpse.

Soon, a handful became dozens, and they were close enough so we could see their horrifying forms. The aerial attackers were harpies – humanoids the size of fully grown men, their hides covered in bright red scales, and their large leathery wings flapping furiously in the hot desert air. Their eyes were jet black and soulless, like those of a shark, and their sharp fangs and claws seemed more than capable of ripping through human flesh.

The snipers amongst our number opened fire at range and managed to shoot several harpies from the sky. But our ammunition was depleted and the winged monsters were too many.

I saw the first harpy strike, screeching like a banshee as it grabbed hold of a terrified cultist in its talons, using immense strength to physically lift him off the ground. Within minutes, the vicious flock were gleefully tearing into my companions, ripping them apart and fighting over the scraps of bloody flesh, which the monsters greedily consumed.

Some harpies were taken out by gunshots, but our party’s resistance quickly fell apart, and soon the situation descended into a bloody massacre.

Through the chaos and carnage, I saw Teresa being taken, screaming in terror as sharp talons dug into her skull. I aimed my shotgun and fired, hitting the winged monster and forcing it to squeal in pain and drop Teresa. I ran to the woman’s aid but discovered it was already too late, as the top of her skull had been ripped clean off.

I took a second to observe the gruesome scene, wondering whether my former sister had remained faithful to Robinson in her last moment of life. I didn’t know where Teresa’s immortal soul had gone to, but I doubted she’d been reunited with her children.

I used the last of my shotgun shells to ward off harpy attacks, and then I fought on desperately, using the empty gun as an improvised bat. Almost all my companions were killed in the slaughter, their flesh torn apart and devoured by the vicious harpies.

The demons should have finished us off. Certainly they had the numbers. But the attack ended as quickly as it had begun, with the remaining harpies ascending back into the red skies, cackling gleefully as they went.

There were only a handful of survivors amongst our party – fourteen in total. Unfortunately, one of them was Charles Robinson. I started to wonder whether Robinson was believing his own lies as the strutted past the bloody remains of his late followers. He seemed so confident and composed, like he actually believed he was God’s chosen one.

There were thirteen other survivors left following the harpy attack. Twelve apostles and me. I suppose I was the ‘Judas’ of the group, because the other dozen were now fully dedicated to Robinson – mind, body, and soul. Amazingly, two of the twelve were federal agents, originally sent to arrest or kill Robinson…but now they were amongst his inner circle.

How had Robinson emerged unscathed if he didn’t have divine protection? The answer seemed obvious to me. The cult leader had lived by using his loyal followers as human shields. But the others didn’t see it that way.

I’m pretty sure Robinson knew I wasn’t his man any longer. I could tell by the hostile looks he shot me and the sly comments he made. Nevertheless, he didn’t order his people to finish me, nor did he banish me from his reduced party by sending me off into the desert alone. I don’t know why he didn’t expel me. Perhaps Robinson wanted to prove me wrong.

As for me, I did consider an assassination attempt against the man I now loathed so much. But I no longer had any shells and would never have got through his entourage.

I thought back to when I first joined the cult, not that I realised it was a cult at the time. He’d found me at my lowest point – all my relationships destroyed, hooked on drugs, and living on the streets. Robinson had shown me compassion and generosity when no-one else did.

But it was more than that. The charismatic leader had given me hope when I had nothing left but fear and depression. This was his greatest skill. He offered people false hope when they were in the pits of despair…and he was still doing it, even down here in hell.

The mountain was our destination. For hours we’d marched, surely covering many miles across the desolate desert. But the peak didn’t seem to get any closer. That was until after the harpy attack, when suddenly we were right under the mountain’s immense shadow.

It was as if the peak had been magically moved to our location. Robinson claimed this as yet more evidence of God’s favour. I had other ideas however. I couldn’t help wondering whether the wicked entity ruling over this realm wanted us to reach the ominous landmark and face whatever horrors lay upon the dark mountainside.

I looked up in awe at the dark, jagged rocks of the cursed mount, the peak ascending into the blood red skies. The sight of the towering mountain provoked a terrible feeling in my gut – a grim foreboding of horrors beyond anything we’d seen up to now.

Even Robinson seemed uncomfortable as he looked upwards at the hellish landmark. His plan had been to get to this location no matter what the cost in lives. But now we were here, our leader didn’t seem to know what to do next.

Once again, he had to improvise, but Robinson was always one to exploit an opportunity. There was a large opening on the side of the mountain – a vast cave whose interior was shrouded in darkness. We heard an animalistic grunt coming from inside, followed by the sounds of a huge creature moving through the cave and towards the light.

I started to back away, my instincts telling me that something monstrous was about to emerge from the darkness. The twelve apostles also seemed uneasy, but their messiah was there to reassure them.

“An angel!” he exclaimed in wide-eyed anticipation, “An angel sent by God to lead his loyal followers to paradise. Prepare yourself, my children. This is the moment of our glorious salvation!”

The dozen’s resolve was strengthened, and they closed ranks around their beloved leader. How could their messiah be wrong, when he’d brought them so far? I didn’t believe it however. Slowly but surely, I put distance between myself and the rest of the party, and this move saved my skin, at least for the time being.

What emerged from the cave exceeded my worst nightmares. We saw the monster’s head first – noting his huge, crocodile-like snout and cold reptilian eyes. Next came the beast’s massive form – a body as large as a bus, a vast pair of folded wings, and a thick swinging tail that could take out a squad of men.

The dragon which emerged from the mountain was covered in scales as black as the night. His cold, predatory eyes were yellow like those of a lizard, his pupils darting back and forth as he coveted his prey. The beast’s maw opened, revealing rows of sharp fangs and a forked tongue coloured bright red.

The dragon climbed out onto the ledge, and he opened his wings to reveal his enormous full form, flapping said wings to launch himself into hell’s skies. Clearly this monster was no angel, and for once Robinson was speechless. He was clearly terrified of the beast and finally realised he couldn’t talk or bluff his way out of this hellscape.

The cult leader fell to his knees, kneeling in the sands underneath the shadow of the beast above him. His twelve apostles followed suit, and the dragon hovered over them – flapping his vast wings and opening his enormous mouth. What followed was a deafening, blood-curdling roar emitted by the beast. And a moment later, a stream of white flames fired out from the dragon’s throat, engulfing the bodies underneath him.Robinson’s end was quick, violent, and unceremonious. His body was burnt by the dragon’s unholy fire – incinerated along with his twelve loyal disciples who’d unwittingly followed him to the very centre of hell.

I watched as their bodies were consumed by the fiery inferno, my nostrils filled with the foul stench of burning flesh. Robinson had been proved a fraud in the most spectacular way possible, but this hardly mattered now. Because, once the black dragon had finished with Robinson and his cohort, he turned his attention towards me – the one who’d got away.

I saw the hateful yet intelligent glint in the monster’s yellow eyes and knew his intentions. So I ran as the dragon roared, seeing the dark shadow of his mighty wings above me. I desperately sought sanctuary and thought I’d found one when I saw a small opening at the mountain’s base – a crevice which I could climb inside.

I ducked into the hole just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding a stream of white fire which burnt my clothes and singed my skin. The dragon screeched in fury, but he couldn’t follow me inside due to his immense size.

I thought I was safe, but I was alone under the mountain and in the dark. Honestly, I never saw the monster that killed me. I did hear the bone-chilling growl from the dark cave and watched as a pair of burning red eyes emerged from the shadows.

Crying out in terror, I desperately tried to climb back to the surface, feeling that a quick death by unholy fire would be preferable to whatever this subterranean monster had in store for me. But it was already too late.

The unseen creature lunged forward and grabbed me, its sharp claws digging into my exposed flesh. I experienced all the terror and pain as the beast dragged me into its dark lair, its jaws biting deep into my torso – ripping me open and spilling my blood and guts across the cave floor.

I was still alive and conscious when the monster began to greedily devour my intestines. I could no longer scream but experienced agony unlike anything I’d previously suffered. And I can’t describe my relief when I drifted out of consciousness, and my time in that hellscape finally ended.

_________

I awoke with my physical body yet again restored. Next, I opened my eyes and stood up on shaking feet, expecting to face unknowable monstrosities in whatever new hell I’d been dispatched to. But instead I found myself back where I’d started.

I stood in the bunker where I’d fought back against the federal incursion – a small concrete outpost on the periphery of the cult’s vast complex. But there was a big problem.

I was alone and unarmed inside a concrete box which was sealed on all sides. The door and windows were gone, and the room was empty. I spotted dried blood on the floor – that of my former comrades and enemies. But otherwise there was nothing.

I’ve done everything I can think of to break free from this prison, beating my fists against the walls until they’re bloody. But there’s no way out.

It seems this imprisonment is a part of my punishment, and so I assume I’ll be kept in this block until my time is served, whenever that will be.

I’m no longer angry over my fate. All I’ve suffered since my death – the horrors of the hellscape, the violent deaths of my companions, my evisceration, and now this imprisonment. I am paying for my sins on the mortal plane.

Yes, I was only a follower, and I was taken in by Robinson’s false promises. But that’s no excuse. Because people suffered due to my actions and died by my hand.

All who perished on that bloody day at the complex will have to pay the price, and I am no exception. And so I will sit in this box and wait…wait until my sentence is done and I can begin to make amends.

Credit: Mark Lynch

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