Unholy Advent: Deception Of The Christ

"This is ridiculous." David thought to himself as he waded through the mud. "Why am I wasting my effort? There's nothing out here; no one."

  Sparks had wandered endlessly across the land, marching eastward, towards the sun by day and the mysterious star by night. He didn't know how long he'd been on his quest, but it seemed never-ending. The scenery had changed along the way, now resembling a tropical swampland more than the cold forest The Lord had exiled him to initially.

  In all his searching, he had found nothing. The encounter with Pritchard had been the last contact he'd had with another person, and he had proven to be less than entirely human. Now virtually a nomad, David had learned to survive on the bounty of the Earth. He drank of rain when it fell, stagnant pools of murky water when it did not. Grass, leaves and worms in the dirt had been his food, not all agreeing with his sensitive and formerly pampered stomach.

  One of his meals had put him out of commission for several days, forcing him to take shelter in the hollow of a massive tree to sleep off his illness between bouts of vomiting and shooting liquid from his rear. He thought he would die there, alone, of dehydration as a result. In the throes of his sickness, he almost hoped for death, but it was not to be.

  Having only recently recovered, he found himself still consumed with a dark emotion. He simply didn't care what happened anymore... to himself, to the Jacksons, to anyone at all. Whatever fate held in store for him, he just wanted to get it over with.

  He longed for an end. So far as he was concerned, the book of his life had been slammed shut at Harper Falls International Airport when a rouge shard of glass had impaled his soul mate. What happened now was no more than epilogue, and his interest in the story had grown thin.

  Why had The Lord kept him from closing the door that day? David was so sure in the moment just before he pulled the trigger of the gun that he held to his head; so confident and serene in his decision to leave this place for good.

  Then there was the incident with the mountain man under some supernatural influence... in retrospect, Sparks wished he hadn't dove to avoid the screaming arrow fired at him in that moment. His actions were a mystery to him; why had he fought so valiantly for survival when there was nothing he cared for to keep him here? Why hadn't he simply bitten his lip and waited for the respite of darkness?

  In the aftermath of the destruction on that last day with his wife and the subsequent encounter with Jesus Christ there had been some degree of fear instilled in him; some hesitance to dive into the realm of the dead so recklessly. That fear was no longer present, though... if The Lord were to judge him harshly for so easily giving in to an escape from his misery, that would suit him just fine.

  Still, he pressed on. The courage to bring his life to an end at his own hand was fleeting now, even in the suffering that had become his everyday life. He feared nothing, though... a roving band of thugs bent on murder would be a welcome sight to his weary and weatherworn eyes.

  There was nothing of the sort, however, so he just walked... day after day after day, he wandered aimlessly.

  Night had fallen on him once again and he prepared to camp on a dry patch of land within the bog he'd been treading through. As he settled in he thought for a moment that he'd heard something carried on the air. Tuning his ear and staying perfectly still, he realized that there was indeed someone out there.

  He heard the muffled cry of a woman, then a rustling like the sounds of an ensuing struggle. Standing again, he tried to move toward the noise quietly, without giving his position away in his approach.

  Pushing through a patch of brush, he saw the distinct glow of a bonfire in the distance. There were several people gathered around it, only shadows before the blaze. Four large figures appeared to be chasing a fifth which was considerably more petite and feminine in its movement. One of the larger people stopped his pursuit and raised what appeared to be a bottle to his lips, turning it up as though to drink of its contents. After a brief pause it continued, trying to cut the fleeing one off behind the fire.

  The group eventually caught up with the target, tackling it unceremoniously to the ground. There were more screams before one seemed to cover the mouth of the victim, another tearing what looked like clothing off of the person. The chief aggressor on the top of the pile tugged at his midsection for a moment before beginning to thrust from the hips, making it obvious; David was witnessing a gang of burly men raping a young woman.

  The site was sickening to him, stirring up a loathing for the strangers that was unparalleled in its severity.

  "You sons of bitches!" David muttered to himself. "I won't let you get away with it! I'll stop you!"

  His courage bubbled up within him, a bravado supported by his lack of apprehension to face a deadly situation taking root. Snarling in anger, he leapt from his hiding space and ran towards the scene of the heinous crime unfolding.

  "Hey!" He shouted to distract the men as he raced toward them. "Leave her alone!"

  The men looked up at him and assumed threatening postures, one still engaged in his unwelcomed fornication despite the valiant charge of the would-be hero. David threw himself at the wall of humanity haphazardly, two of the three falling in their intoxication when he collided with them. The third was unfazed, however, and yanked Sparks up to his feet by his now shaggy and unkempt hair.

  He was a bruiser; built like a portly long shoreman and more powerful than any man Sparks had ever known. Holding David with his might he looked him over; the man's flesh stinking of liquor pouring out of him through his sweat, his breath hot and rancid in David's face as he stared into his eyes with the look of a cold-blooded killer.

  David wasted no time in delivering a swift kick to his groin, bringing the giant down to his knees and breaking the death grip he had upon him. Sparks wound up fiercely as the other men regained their wits, drilling a ham-handed uppercut into the large man's chin as he howled in agony, clutching his jewels. The blow knocked him back, sending him into the fire that raged at the heart of this camp.

  His wailing grew to screaming as the flame took hold, setting him ablaze like a six-foot torch as he tried to lift himself from the embers. Once clear of the fire he dropped to the ground and tried to roll about to extinguish himself, but the fire only grew more intense as he moved over alcohol soaked blankets and pads.

  Sparks turned his wrath to the other two assailants, knocking one back to the ground so that he could focus on dispatching the other. This man reached down by the fire and produced a set of brass knuckles, sliding them onto the fingers of his right hand.

  He and David danced like expert pugilists in a championship bout, both blocking and countering in a calculated struggle of the fistic arts. The blows the stranger landed to David's body stung badly, but physical pain was familiar to him now and not nearly as contentious as the mental torment he endured since he had lost Tracey. Keeping his hands up in the hope of staving off a shot to the face, Sparks waited for an opening through which to strike.

  Surprisingly, the rapist continued in his foul act as the chaos ensued. The woman had tired of screaming, reduced now to sobs and tortured moans as she was assaulted.

  The burning man had fallen silent now as well, lying dead or unconscious on the outskirts of the clearing as he continued to cook.

  The man with the knucks pulled back and let loose with a giant swing, a primal shout billowing from him as he lunged forward. David somehow had the wherewithal in his exhaustion to dodge the attack and was presented with the man's back as the follow-through swiveled him around. He took advantage, locking him in a rear-naked choke a'la UFC and dragging him to the ground.

  The third man was exceptionally drunk and unable to do much as David strangled his counterpart. He pulled at Spark's fingers clumsily in an attempt to break the grasp that held his arms locked around the man's neck. He was unsuccessful and largely useless, barely able to stand as he tried to fend off the attacker.

  Sparks felt a stran
ge satisfaction as the stranger grew limp in his vice-like hold. He kicked and writhed at first, then slowly faded to a state of submission. Despite the fact that he was obviously out of the fight and beyond helpless, David held his grasp - refusing to allow the monster to draw another breath.

  The rapist had finished his deed at this point and lifted himself off of the woman, leaving her crying nude on the ground. He didn't so much as bother to pull his pants up as he turned to where David continued to choke out his comrade.

  He wouldn't be able to save the man, however. The stillness of his body in David's arms had changed to a twitching that clearly signaled his passing. The rush was incredible when Sparks realized what he had done; and he longed for more. Releasing the corpse, he stood to face the bulbous man approaching with every part of his fattened body bouncing about as he moved; old glory and all.

  "Get 'em, Rahlo!" The other drunken man encouraged.

  David stood bent at the knees to avoid a low tackle from the beast, his arms trembling with adrenaline and aching to take another life in their rage. He planted a firm right-cross on the rapist to no avail; the man shook it off as though it were the bite of a pesky mosquito.

  His strength was superhuman, seemingly greater even than that of the first man that had met with David's fury. Despite a desperate attempt to stay vertical, the mammoth man took Sparks easily to the ground and held him there with his girth.

  "Come on, Rusty!" The beast shouted to the stammering drunken bean-pole. "I'm gonna let you have this whore to yourself!"

  Dave thrashed about as Rusty handed Rahlo a bowie knife with which he cut through Sparks' clothing, shearing them in two from his shoulders to his ankles.

  "Lookie here!" The fat man exclaimed at the sight of David's exotic undergarment. "This one's frisky!"

  "No!" David shouted as Rusty peeled the leopard print thong off of him and threw it into the fire, exposing every inch of his body.

  "Hush up!" Rahlo ordered, covering Sparks' mouth with his giant clammy palm.

  The man pressed down with incredible force, twisting David's neck painfully as he resisted. He bit at the hand, drawing screams from the giant, but was unable to free himself. He heard the undoing of a zipper, presumably that of Rusty's pants in preparation for the violation they were planning.

  Rahlo reached down and took hold of David's bare thighs, thrusting them with his power up to his shoulders in a manner that cut off his ability to breathe.

  "Oh yeah!" Rusty commented as he ran his fingers along a place in which David had never hoped to be touched by another man. "Just how I like 'em, nice and tight!"

  Sparks clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, unable to defend himself further, as a glob of spit from Rusty's mouth landed exactly where he had intended it to. Rahlo stood over his head, his mammoth hands locked around his ankles and holding him spread eagle.

  He felt Rusty approaching his goal when suddenly his ears rang and the world lit up for an instant. The smell of gunpowder filled the air as the would-be Sodomizer fell to the ground, Rahlo releasing his grip and turning towards the source of the flash.

  The world shook as there was another flash and concussion, Rahlo now collapsing in a heap of blubber in the dirt. David's head was spinning as he rolled to his side and saw the naked woman standing with a shotgun held high. Her eyes were blank, her mouth agape at what she had been through.

  Even in her ravaged and beaten state, she was beautiful. The long blonde hair curling as it rained from her head reminded him of Tracey; and she was just as petite and frail looking as his wife had been. Her figure was sculpted to perfection, a model-caliber hourglass accented by a small but full set of breasts. Her stomach was flat and tight, her hips thick and gorgeous. In another time and place he would've been tempted by her luscious body; but her cold demeanor was threatening as he studied her from the ground.

  "Um..." He said hesitantly, grateful for her intervention. "Thank you?"

  She didn't respond immediately, nor did she lower the weapon now that her attackers were dead. David wasn't sure what to think; why had the gun been lethal? He had seen while in the company of Pritchard that they didn't function any longer, and he had confirmed this for himself when he found a pistol abandoned in the woods along his journey.

  What was different about the rifle this gang of men had apparently left so foolishly within her reach? Why hadn't they used it on David when they saw him coming? Were they also under the impression that it didn't work? More importantly than all that -- why was she still pointing it at him after he had fought to save her from the goons?

  "M'am?" He tried to wake her from what seemed to be a trance as her finger trembled near the trigger. "It's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you... I was trying to help -- please!"

  Despite his urging, the woman's swollen-eyed glare was still fixed firmly upon him. He sat up cautiously, maintaining eye contact and keeping his hands plainly visible to her.

  "Stop." The woman ordered with a calm and monotone inflection.

  "Please, m'am..." He begged. "I don't know who these men were, and I don't know who you are -- but they were hurting you. I couldn't just stand there and watch them do that to you."

  "Tell me," she continued. "Why should I not kill you where you sit. I know that you wish to die... that you crave it."

  David lowered his hands slowly, stunned, and covered his exposed genitals. He looked inside himself and wondered what he could say in his defense.

  "You're right." He eventually answered. "I do want to die... or I did, at least."

  "But you don't any longer? Now that you're faced with the possibility, your courage is waning?"

  "No." He replied. "I am not afraid..."

  "Then why? Why do you cower now?"

  "I'm not cowering!" David insisted, angered by the suggestion. "If you want to shoot me, honey, then do it! I'm certainly not in a position to stop you."

  "I didn't say that I wanted to shoot you... I asked why I shouldn't grant you the wish that you wanted."

  "How do you believe you know what I want?" He asked.

  "I was told."

  "By whom?"

  "A man."

  "Was he entirely a man? He didn't have a goat's head or anything, did he? Because I've had some trouble with things like that recently."

  "No... he was just a man -- anointed, but of the flesh. He appeared to me last night; told me that I would meet you here, David, and that you longed for death. He told me that it would fall to me to judge you... to decide whether or not you were worthy of returning to the garden."

  "And how will you make this decision?"

  "You will make it for me... based upon whether I approve of your response when I do this."

  The woman dropped the gun and sauntered over to him, accentuating the movement of her hips as she walked. She ran her fingers through his hair and locked them behind his head, burying his face in her stomach just above her pubic area. She slid her body down, passing his nose and mouth through her bosom before thrusting her tongue into his lips. He resisted, but she forced it through with a fiery passion. Reaching down, she pulled his hands away from his loins and took hold of his stiffening appendage.

  Taken with the moment, he began playing an active part in the kissing as she stroked his body. Her mouth tasted sweet as he ran his hands along her warm and tender back, cupping the cheeks of her firm behind as she sat on his outstretched legs. She moaned in response, pulling back from their kiss in the pleasure. Licking his face downward along the scar he had earned at the airport, she turned her attention to his neck which she sucked with a force as great as the vacuum of space.

  He gasped at the pleasure, planting his hands in the bloodied soil behind him and leaning back to take in her worship. She continued downward, kissing his chest and nibbling at his nipple along the path. He closed his eyes as she neared his belly button, a premature climax not out of the question given the intensity of her
stimulation.

  Giving his erection another full length caress, she planted a soft kiss at its apex with her feathery lips. She opened her mouth widely and prepared to take him in, but the sight triggered something in his mind's eye.

  He saw an image of Tracey, standing before him at the altar in her beautiful white dress. She was so sweet and innocent... the pure color of her dress a reflection of her character; none had taken her before David. They hadn't waited for marriage, of course - their love was too compelling to hold out, but it was still an amazing gift that she had given him.

  He had been around the block a few times, though none of his experiences before her fell into the category of making love. He experienced that act for the first time with her, when he had taken her virginity. It was sacred; something he couldn't discard so simply and return to the practices he knew before.

  "No!" He shouted, pulling himself away from her.

  She remained where she was, knelt down on all fours, as he leapt to his feet and put distance between the two of them.

  "You can kill me if you have to, whatever - I don't give a damn." He continued yelling emphatically as he paced. "But I cannot have sex with you - not in any form! I will not betray my wife!"

  "But your wife is dead, David." The temptress argued, still monotone in her speech. "Surely your promises to her are void in death."

  "You're wrong." He tried to convince her and himself alike. "I love Tracey in her death as much as I did in her life. Your killing me would only expedite my return to her, so go on and do it if that's what you intend!"

  The succubus stood and moved towards the rifle, pointing it at him once more as she picked it up.

  "Is that your final answer?" She asked.

  David wanted to run, but knew there was no chance of his escaping her bullet. Instead he faced her, arms at his side in submission to her will. He felt no shame as he stood before her, ready to live or die at her whim. If she decided to execute him, he would at least be proud that as his last act upon the Earth he had overcome the desires of his body in the name of his love for an incredible woman.

  "Very well." The woman said, a tinge of emotion finally showing through her voice. She seemed -- disappointed in his response.

  David wasn't sure who or what she was; how she had known his name or about what had happened to Tracey. It didn't matter, though, as it appeared she were about send him into the beyond with the squeeze of her finger.

  She raised the rifle to her shoulder, taking aim down its iron sight directly focused on David's head. He kept his eyes open wide, wishing to meet his fate with resolve.

  After a few moments she surprised him by lowering the weapon and smiling at him playfully.

  "Well done, David Sparks!" She said. "Your heart is true; you are worthy of The Lord."

  "What?" He asked in shock. "Who are you? How do you know these things about me? About Him?"

  "My name is Eloa." She explained. "I've been sent here to guide you."

  "Guide me where?"

  "To the garden, of course!"

  "I don't understand..."

  "You don't need to -- you only need to come with me."

  The rifle in her grasp suddenly disappeared in a golden rain of dust, the woman smiling as she extended her hand to him. Confused yet comforted, he stepped toward Eloa and took hold of the hand she offered. She was angelic, now - all signs of the physical abuse she had suffered at the hands of the mob having disappeared to reveal a beauty more stunning than before.

  He felt instantly enslaved by her aura, subject to her every command. Had she ordered him to sleep with her now he wasn't sure that he would have the fortitude to resist; her presence was heavenly, wholly seductive in its nature. David didn't know where she was taking him, nor what this garden that she spoke of could be... but it didn't matter to him anymore, so long as he could go there at her side.

  "Eloa?" He said as they walked into the night.

  "Yes?"

  "If I hadn't stopped you... if I had let you continue -- what would've happened?"

  "I would've made you see Heaven in your pleasure -- but there would've been Hell to pay for your transgressions."

  "Then I was right to deny you?"

  "Yes... though I almost wish you hadn't... for my own selfish reasons..."

  Chapter 19