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YA Christian Sci-Fi/Dystopian
Date Published: 03-05-2025
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When a man in power believes he’s God, mankind doesn’t have a prayer
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EXCERPT
THE END
ALPHA
AARON RYAN
Award-winning author of the bestselling post-apocalyptic alien invasion 6-book saga, Dissonance, the sci-fi thriller Forecast, and The Christian Kids Values, Identity & Affirmation Picture Book Series
Š 2025 Aaron Ryan & CM LLC. U.S. Copyright # forthcoming. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized duplication or copying prohibited by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the express written permission of the publisher or copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized print or electronic versions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Published in 2025, Edition 1.
Paperback ISBN # 9781965372180 â Hardcover ISBN # 9781965372197 â eBook ISBN # 9781965372173.
Edited by Denouement Editing. Published independently.
Cover art by CM LLC. Man by muratkalenderoglu on Pixabay.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER 1: Sage
1 . 1 . 2113 â Maple Park, IL
Î Î Î
Some people are just wolves in sheepâs clothing; we all know that now.
All that glitters is not gold, and so on and so forth. We all learned the hard way, and now, all of us were living in raw, cold fear.Â
We were running from Nero 24/7.Â
When he burst onto the scene in the Senate in 2104, most of us didnât really know who he was. I was too young anyway. That wasnât his name then, of course: it was Constantine Jedidiah Goodfellow. But history has always been rewritten by those in power as they see fit; itâs happening even now, certainly. There will be no mention of forced edicts, or worshipâŚor even the Guardians. But we know they exist. I definitely do. My whole family knew they existed just before they were shot down and deprived of life, right after dad hid me.Â
We should have seen it coming. With a name like his, you might think that such a person was all good. Constantine means steadfast. Jedidiah means beloved of the Lord. Goodfellow means, well, good fellow.
Thatâs why no one saw it coming.
I wish the stupid virus had never happened. That unquestionably set the stage for Nero to do what he did, and we, in our foolish blindness and extreme naivetĂŠ, trusted him. But all such wishing is futile, right? You canât go back. None of us can. You canât go home again. Forward is the only option, even if forward is through grinding metal and scorching flames, and all of us depending on the guy next to us to toe the line and hold firm in the faith.
No one even really knew how the virus happened. Unfortunately, there was a lot of supposition that Christians had spread it. There was nothing empirical ever presented for that accusation, but Nero ran with it, using it as grounds for further dissent. And then you had the wackos, the nationalists, and the crazies who whipped a lot of people up into a frenzy with scare tactics and polarizing viewpoints that galvanized people into negative action. You had Christians committing assassination attempts, thinking Nero was the antichrist. You had Christian preachers going crazy and stirring up dissension against him. The simple, pure message of the gospel itself got swallowed up in message dilution. People erroneously relinquished the gospel in favor of something far more aggressive.
Thatâs when the riots happened. A bunch of hotheads cried out for justice, pleading with others to take back our capitol, take back our country, take back our world for Christ. Their intentions were honorable; their execution sucked. That just added more fuel to the anti-Christian fire and spawned a lot of negative sentiment toward those who called Jesus Lord. It ended up being far too much to recover from reputationally, which gave Nero far too much license to stamp out Christianity for good. A lot of us did it to ourselves, frankly.
And then, no one was strong enough to oppose him. Before we knew what hit us, he and his military tech were empowered beyond measure. Beyond restraint. And where you have empowerment without oversight, you have a god complex.
Christianity itself, once the bedrock of our countryâs democratic and ethical principles, became the scourge of the world: of ill repute, undesirable, and a government-labeled âunholy threat.â All because Nero was at the helm.
And then came The Cleansing.
I was lost in thought, shaking my head at the memory and the horror of all of it.
âSage, you still alive over there, buddy?â
His question jerked me out of my reveries. My eyes were released from the mesmerizing amber licks of the fire. I turned to Hunter, my best friend. His brow was furrowed as he watched me, his face framed by the fake flames coming from the artificial fireplace in front of us.
But not just the flames. From the back of his neck came the amber glow. The glow from the mark.
Same as me. Same as nearly everyone in here.
I nodded. âJust thinking. About time to hit the hay anyway,â I replied in a melancholy drone.
âMan, you said it. Iâm worn out.â
âMe too. Iâve done three yearsâ worth of Remembrance in just one night.â
He chuckled and nodded solemnly.
Remembrance. Thatâs what Swifty called it. It was like what the Vietnamese and other cultures did. The Kinh people believed that the incense they lit would lead those who had died to safe passage. They believed it would guide them home as well. They did it in remembrance, and they were very intentional about it.
I guess when over half of the worldâs population has been wiped out by a virus, and a malevolent, paranoid delusional, Machiavellian psychopath now occupies the highest throne on the planet, itâs good to do a little bit of Remembrance.
Even if itâs only ever filled with pain.
On this New Yearâs Day â which was now little more than just another day â there was no celebrating; there was only remembering.
Maranatha. Come, Lord.
Î Î Î
Weâd been at Maple Park for three days now. The flight from Dekalb had been terrifying; we lost four on the way. The Guardians were definitely getting faster. Whether that was through software or hardware upgrades, or they may have even been new models, was anyoneâs guess. They had some kind of new scanners that could pick up if we were branded, whether they could see our necks clearly or not. Awful. Awful and unfair. All we had now were our collective prayers for strength to patiently endure.Â
There was a nun here â the only one left at this church â and her name was Sister Theresa. Saint Mary of the Assumption Catholic Church had lost everyone except for Sister Theresa, who silently kept up the grounds like a ghostly warden, providing shelter and praying for souls. She did it at great risk to herself. Half the church had been bombed right during a service. It was amazing that any of it was still standing, though it was now a blackened, bombed-out, husk of its former brick glory. All of the religious institutions like this one had, of course, been mapped out, and the Guardians may have some thermal imaging available to them; we werenât sure. Thank God someone in their right mind had the prescience to build a bomb shelter below it. Thatâs where we now lived and worked out of.
I guess Nero regarded a blackened and charred half-structure like this church â like all the churches â as fait accompli because he moved on and didnât have them check here again. For that, we were grateful.
Swifty sent us ahead of him, and then he and six other guys held off Neroâs Guardians until they could regroup and make a break for it. Thatâs when we high-tailed it home, sticking to the crops and fields. For whatever reason, Guardians werenât good at picking out organic against organic. If you were stuck somewhere in the metro, they had you. All that signal bounced off the aluminum and metal, and they would zero you like you were in a 3D grid, and then theyâd lock and load. Thatâs why we steered clear of the big cities. Chicago was uncomfortably close, at only an hour and a quarter away by car. We were safer in the country.
When the eight of us finally made it back to Maple Park, our mouths were dry and our lungs were burning.
The goal was a bit far-fetched, if you ask me: to get to DeKalb Taylor Airport and see if we might be able to catch a flight further out west. Maybe to Seattle, and then off to Hawaii. Many said that was pointless: Neroâs arm had grown long indeed, and his reach was greater than any of us had ever known. Others thought we should fly north and make for Canada. The prime minister was either dead or in hiding, but maybe there would be some stout souls that would be willing to stand up to Nero, enforce whatever remained of international extradition policies, and provide us asylum, at least for a while. Most everyone shook their head no matter the suggestion. The Guardians were everywhere. It didnât really matter where you went; the Guardians were watching, which meant that Nero was watching. Â
Hunter saved me.
Hunter Preston was my best friend. Iâd known him since I was eleven. Or twelve? Thereâs no more clear record since weâve been on the move so much. I have his back, and he has mine, and thatâs the way of it. I looked over at him now, sound asleep, twitching. I stifled a chuckle, watching him; heâs always had that nervous tick, and it even comes out when he sleeps.
Hunterâs family was killed in a blast, just as mine was. Except for Heather. I heaved a sigh and thought back, shaking my head. I didnât want to, but I had to. Trying to picture them in my mind was the only way to keep them alive, to keep me going. I knew where mom and dad were; I knew where Heather was. I knew. They were with Jesus now. With Jesus, basking in His warmth, while Hunter and I continued to fight it out down here in the dark and cold, Guardians always tailing us.
I closed my eyes and remembered.
Î Î Î
11 . 4 . 2099 â Des Moines IA
âKeep up, Sage, honey, weâre almost there.â
âIâm hu-ungry,â I remember whining.
âI know, I know. Almost there, sweet boy,â Mommy encouraged me again, and I went back to my FidgetBot, abandoning the notion of food for the moment.
My little feet trudged along next to her, holding her hand, as she carried Heather. Daddy was feverishly filling out the form on the tablet he had been given. For something called a âcensus,â though I had no idea what that meant. All I knew was that so many people around us had died, and somebody called President Goodfellow had made a lot of promises that made Mommy and Daddy so very happy.
We lost Auntie Leah and Uncle Ethan to the sickness.  They died. Daddy said they went to heaven. A few of my classmates too, but I donât know if they went to heaven or not. Then they cancelled school altogether, starting with the youngest. My preschool was one of the first to go. They said something about little kids being âcesspools,â and I didnât know what that meant. Mommy and Daddy didnât talk about the virus with us much; every time the word came up, they just seemed to look at each other and take a big sigh while their eyes went wide, and theyâd tell me it would be okay.
We were almost there. It was nighttime, and a cold wind was wafting across the parking lot, with the occasional gust and chill. There were a lot of people with us, filtering in and around us into the school auditorium, which was where I would have had my first assembly. I barely remembered it from the few times we went to see Heather in a school musical performance. I was too distracted to care, and it was too loud for me in there. I remember really having to pee during one of those performances, and Daddy got kind of mad that I couldnât hold it. He had to take me to the potty and was telling me to hurry; he didnât want to miss Heather singing. Thatâs all I remember.
We walked right past the bathroom where Daddy had taken me to potty, and he took a big sigh and told Mommy âokay, I think I got it.â
âYeah?â Mommy asked him back. I looked up and watched them both talk quickly.
âYep, basic stuff,â Daddy said, âaddress, DOB, social security, all that. They asked about religion, too, which I thought was weird, but whatever. I listed us as Christian.â I remember he dropped his volume on the last line.
âProud of it, baby,â Mommy said, smiling. I glanced up at her quickly, remembering something she had said a few weeks ago about being careful who we tell that to. As I did so, my big sister raised her weary head off Mommyâs shoulder and yawned, looking around blearily and rubbing her eyes as she came to.
âDaddy, whatâs religion mean?â I interrupted, not pulling my eyes away from my FidgetBot. Â
âOh, it just means who we worship, who we pray to, that kind of thing, kiddo.â
âYou mean Jesus?â I asked him.
Daddy smiled and answered me almost before I said His name. âShhh, yes, punkin,â thatâs right,â he said, scooping me up and looking around cautiously. âThank you for being so patient. Weâre gonna head right home after this and get you a snack. I know itâs late.â
âLate is right,â Mommy said. âWhy they needed this so urgently is beyond me. Such a long drive.â
âYeah, I donât know,â Daddy said. âBut itâs November, ya know, turn of the century. Theyâve got a lot to get back up and running, and I bet they just wanna get all the info they can as quickly as they can in order to take care of everyone as best they can.â They looked at each other just then. âYou have to remember this is the second major calamity of this century after the alien invasions in the forties, sweetheart.â
âAliens?â I asked in surprise, looking up, my mouth agape.
âThatâs right, kiddo. Scary. Tell ya another time.â
âYouâre right, I know,â Mom said, almost cheerily. âGod forbid we need a third. Everybody thought that was Armageddon. Next itâll be locusts or something,â Mommy snorted.
âWith womenâs hair!â Daddy teased back.
âStop it,â she protested with a smile. âThis isnât Revelation come to life, you know.â
âMommy, whatâs relevation?â I asked her while still playing on my FidgetBot.
âRe-ve-la-tion,â she corrected, glancing down at me. âItâs the last book in the Bible, punkin. Itâs about the end times.â
âThatâs right,â Daddy replied. âAnyway, theyâre just trying to keep people safe.â
âFrom the sickness?â I asked him, still not taking my eyes off my toy.
He kissed the side of my head, and I wiped it off.Â
 âYep, kiddo, from the sickness.â
I looked at him to say something, but then Daddy acknowledged someone who was talking to him and directing us over to a line. Daddy nodded back and pointed at ourselves questioningly. The man who was looking at him had a dark outfit on and a cap. He blew a whistle and nodded, apparently instructing us to move over into the line. It was getting colder.
Daddy carried me over into the line and lightly bobbed with me in his arms. âAlmost done, punkin.â Almost done. Youâre doinâ great.â
âI want macaroni,â Heather breathed through a yawn.
âMe too,â I said coolly, back to my toy.
Before too long we went all the way through the line, following a bunch of other people. It took way too long. Daddy stopped with me in his arms before a woman who was seated at a table surrounded by other seated workers all around her assisting other families in line. Beside each of them lay a long black device with a handle at the bottom and a translucent reddish cap on the end. I remember I couldnât help but think it was some kind of space gun.
âHi folks. Name?â
âUh, Maddox? Mark and Tracy Maddox.â
I watched the woman scan through her list. âHere it is. From Cedar Rapids?â she asked warmly, smiling.
Daddy nodded. âYes.â
âHey, Cedar Rapids is where you grew up, Daddy!â I exclaimed joyfully. âWhat does hail mean?â
The woman looked up at me with twinkling eyes and smiled. âThatâs right, little one, good for you. Is it just the four of you then?â she asked, dismissing my question. Daddy nodded again and Mommy said yes. âAnd these are Sage and Heather; theyâre your children?â she asked.
âCorrect,â Daddy replied, and then squeezed me tighter to him, whispering, âIt just means where you come from.â
âDaddy, Iâm hungry again. Can we pleeease go back to the car? I want a snack! And whatâs that?â I asked, pointing.
âShhh, just a second, punkin,â he said.
I growled at him, and I wonât forget that, because he looked at me angrily. âNot now, kiddo. Just wait, please.â
âHmm, oh, this?â asked the woman with a rasp in her voice. âThis helps us to check if youâre all clear.â She didnât look at me; she just kept tapping on the tablet Daddy had been using, and then turned and grabbed some kind of packet of information and handed it to him and Mommy.
âOkay, got it. Thanks for your patience, folks,â she said with a sidelong glance, âI know itâs cold, and it sounds like these cuties want some food. Itâll be just one more second. Letâs start with Daddy, okay?â
She stood up, creaking at the knees, and with a slight grunt, she lifted up the device that was sitting next to her on the table. âItâll feel hot for just a quick second, but I promise you no lasting damage will be done. Itâs just to check for the virus.â
I gasped. âYou mean the sickness?â
âUh-huh, thatâs right, sweetheart,â the elderly woman nodded and assured me. âThe virus gets into our brain stem and stays there, and itâs a bad one. This little gizmo helps us see if itâs in there or not. To see if Daddyâs a carrier. Here, hon, turn around please,â she said to Daddy.
Daddy did so and showed her his neck. She aimed the device at the base of his skull as I watched, curiously. I glanced over at Mommy and Heather; they were watching too. âOkay, Daddyâs clear, say yay, kids!â
âYay!â Heather and I cheered. âNo sickness for Daddy!â
âThatâs right! Okay, and now Mommyâs next,â the woman said, directing her smile to my mother.
It took my mom the same amount of time. She set Heather down, whirled around and pulled the back of her coat down, raising her snow hat at the same time, while the old woman raised her device.
âGuess what, looks like Mommyâs clear too!â said the woman, happily. âCongratulations, folks.â
âYay, Mommy!â I said, as my stomach growled. I remember feeling a sigh of relief for both my parents as they were cleared. I felt it again when both Heather and I were found to be clear as well. The old lady said it would be âjust a little zap. Come to think of it, I donât remember anyone in there being âfoundâ with the virus. Everyone, seemingly, was clear. I guess that was good news for all of us, although my neck itched and felt hot following my little âzap.â
By now I was famished and was about to throw my FidgetBot. I needed a snack and was about to scream.
The lady put down her device and smiled at me, and I didnât return the smile. âThese are your clearance papers; youâre in whatâs now known as âSector 8.â Food vouchers, government stimulus claim form, and medical referral paperwork are all included. New job onboarding materials are in there as well.â The mention of food made me scowl at her, but she didnât notice. âYouâll receive a call in two weeks from a case worker for both vaccine intake and ramp-up to the new health system. Any questions?â
âUh, no, thatâs great, thanks,â Daddy said. âOkay, punkin,â guess what?â
âWhat? And my nameâs not punkin,â I growled.
âWeâre going back to the car and going home! You want a snack now?â
I felt the heat in my face dissipate as a smile took over. âYay! Yes, please, yes, please, yes, please, yes, please,â I replied in a sing-song, while teeter-tottering my head in excitement.
âAlright, folks, youâre all set,â the lady said with cheeks knotted into a warm smile. âNice to meet you and have a good night. Next?â She turned to the people just behind us in line.
âBye, lady. By the way, this is my FidgetBot,â I said, waving its arm toward her in goodbye.
âBye, FidgetBot!â she said with a huge smile, leaning toward me as we walked through and then arced back toward the van.
Bye, FidgetBot.
Bye, lady.
We ended up saying goodbye to so many others.Â
Î Î Î
1 . 1 . 2113 â Maple Park IL
My eyes flashed open, and I sat up, scrutinizing the clock.
1:13 am.
I felt haggard and rubbed my eyes, sighing in discontent and lying back down with a yawn.
But the yawn wasnât from fatigue; it was from nerves, just like a dog licks its lips and yawns when itâs nervous.
Nerves afire from treacherous memories.
Hunter yawned across from me in his bunk.
âHey, you still up too?â
âYep,â I confirmed. âMemories. You know how it is.â
He nodded silently through the dark, thinking to himself. âWell, like Swifty says, itâs better if we remember together, right? âWherever two or more are gathered in His name, there He is in the midst of them,â right?â
I sighed. âRight. Okay, letâs do it.â I stuck a knuckle in my eye and sat up, yawning. The concrete floor was icy cold for my bare feet. I moved back toward the wall so my feet could elevate beyond the ledge of the bed. Hunter came over and sat next to me.
âThat whole census had been one big setup,â I began. âNo one ever told me until a few years later, after the sentries came, after the churches had been blown up or smashed into, after everyone had been scattered, and I had been in more hideouts than you could shake a stick at.â
Hunter nodded. His story was much of the same.
âThe perfect setup,â he agreed. âThey told me later that President Goodfellow had held a press conference about the church bombings. He denounced these âdastardly actsâ and said that they would not go unpunished. They told me that he even wept, if you can believe it.
âBut then I learned the real truth,â he continued, âwhen they told me a few years later. Goodfellow had been unmasked; it was all at his direction: all of it. But by then he had quashed all opposition, and it was too late.Â
âNero called it Directive 666, and they scoffed at the number and what it implied. They questioned his motive. The census had been nothing more than to locate all Christians. Identify them and their families. Find out where they lived. And then hunt them down,â he finished sadly.
âAnd then hunt them down,â I echoed grimly. âThe Cleansing.â
âYep. The Cleansing,â he repeated. âWhat a joke.â
âIt had been launched to exterminate those whose religious views were unfavorable and non-conducive to world peace,â -here I employed my best tone of sardonic mockery- âso the leaflets said. And my mom and dad, like so many, they walked blindly into it, and boom, I was an orphan a few months later.â
âMe too.â
âDad had the good sense to hide me in the crawlspace of our home. Heather wasnât so lucky, as they looked in our attic and shot her onsite. The branding on her neck told the Guardians everything they needed to know.â
âI barely remember my parents now,â Hunter said sadly, staring off into space. I turned to him. He had a thousand-yard stare. It caused me to put on the same. My brow furrowed, and I frowned.
âMe neither,â I said with a difficult lung-clearing.
We spoke no words for several minutes.
Hunter finally broke the silence. âThat branding,â he said, shaking his head and scoffing. âIt only took a few weeks for that indelible glowing mark to show up. Dad noticed it on mom first, fresh out of the shower. And then she checked him and saw the same thing. They ran to me and checked me, and there was a lot of sobbing. To their horror, it was then that they realized that they had been duped. We all had.â
âYep,â I agreed. âA total con. We hadnât been scanned for VZV2 at all,â I said, rattling off the new variant of the Varicella-Zoster Virus. âWe were being branded like cattle without even knowing it.â I looked around. All the sleeping figures around us glowed amber at the backs of their necks. The marks burnt into them had a latent nascency: eventually, they all revealed their hostsâ religion with a dim amber light, and the grim truth was simultaneously revealed.
I could practically hear him shaking his head in the dark. âAll I remember seeing was the glint of titanium and tungsten in the night, and those cold, amber eyes. I remember hearing that whirr of the air through their rotors and the fast-moving treads crunching gravel and soot underneath as they wormed their way into our neighborhood â into every neighborhood, dude â and hunted down every man, woman, or child who professed the name of Jesus.â
âI remember running,â I told him. âAfter they killed Heather. I eventually found my way out of there and ran all the way across Indianola Avenue onto East Creston. I knew I had to keep quiet, but I was only four, and the tears erupted into bursting sobs of incredulity as my little heart quaked. I rounded a corner onto East Creston, and thatâs when I saw that teenage girl standing there, face to face with a Guardian. Cassie, I think they said her name was. It was the first time I heard one of those machines ask the question.â
He scoffed again. We mockingly said the foreboding words together.
Citizen, this is your final warning. Do you recant?
âRecant,â I breathed scornfully, shaking my head. âI didnât even know what the word meant then. But I knew what a bullet-riddled human looked and sounded like, and I witnessed it with my own eyes, as that girl shook her head and the machine fired away in a hammer-smash of bullets straight into her chest. A thudding cacophony, man. Blood sprayed everywhere, and she fell to her knees as the Guardian finished her off. She was a pile of meat. Others watching took off.â
âYeah, the Guardians were landlocked then, right? They werenât in the air, and that had been some saving grace. But it was really only a matter of time before Nero began to think three-dimensionally. I think it was 2105 when we saw them for the first time over The Windy City,â he said.
âThatâs why some of us were reluctant to try the airport; the risk of interception was too great in the air.â
He nodded, numbly scratching at an itch on his leg.
âNero started deploying the AirGuard, and we found they could hover with some kind of advanced propulsion. Thatâs when he started calling himself that stupid nickname.â
âPrince of the Power of the Air,â we both mocked.
âYeah,â Hunter agreed. âI guess thatâs what you get when you elect a delusional, psychopathic, techno-trillionaire into office who creates military-grade machinery and holds all the codes. To think heâd been building all of that to sell to the government. They were too afraid of him to not sign the contract with NeroTech.â
âBut back then?â I jumped back to my own story. âThat little boy just crouched there, concealed in the bushes in a cloud of fear, staring out past the foliage at the dead girl. My little corduroys were steaming with pee. I trembled for my life, man, questioning every cracked twig around me. It was hours before I moved again, and I could only stumble over to the next house as they took me in. I passed that girlâs corpse. She was turned on her side, and I could see the back of her neck. Her mark was fading, cooling, because her body was losing heat as she lay dying. She had professed the name of Christ, though. Probably the victim of an informant.â
âInformants,â he hissed venomously.
âHey,â I said. âForgiveness.â
He rolled his eyes and sighed. âI know.â
âAnyway, I was too young to understand any of it back then. I understand all of it now.â
We didnât say anything for a while. I shook my head as I remembered that sweet elderly woman at the school during the census and âvirus scan.â That kind old woman had no idea she was part of it. None of them did. Nero used them like he had so many others. It was all part of his master plan. The woman wasnât scanning us for the virus in the elementary school. She was branding us with infrared, a mark that would eventually appear for all to see, and, in due course, be used to target us for elimination.
I took a deep breath. âIsnât it sick? That virus was the perfect cover for a branding operation. Those devices werenât scanning for viruses already present; they were implanting a virus in us via infrared laser. They were directly linked to the tablets that everyone filled out, my dad included. He had told them we were Christians. So, the device burnt an infrared mark into all four of us.â I shook my head at the memory. âAll because my dad selected âChristian.â The scanner was linked to the tablet; the tablet was linked to our religion. My dad says weâre not Christian? No mark for us. The family one aisle over at the census that said they were atheist? No mark for them, either, and theyâre most likely alive out there, presumably, subservient to Nero.â
Good for them, I thought blandly.
Hunter was quiet for a while. At last he turned to me. âWhat would you say to him if you ever met him face to face?â
I smiled at my friend, but it felt fiendish. I thought of someday infiltrating his ranks, sneaking up to him, closer and closer. Like a jackal, gaining his trust and working my way in for the kill.
âYou know what Iâd say?â
âWhat?â Hunter asked me.
âIâd look him in the eye and say two things. âThere is a God, and youâre not him.ââ
Hunter laughed abruptly, but his laughter faded as he regarded my stoic expression. âBut Hunt,â I said, âthe sad truth is that I might do a lot more than that before I could even calm down to speak to him.â
My friend stared at me quizzically, but I knew that he knew what I meant. Heâd expressed the same thing once or twice. We would never sit down to a nice coffee with Nero; we would kill him.
He was the man who was solely responsible for the annihilation of Christians and the eradication of Christianity.
The man hunting all of us down as we speak.
The man whose crusade had always been to blame the virus, and all the worldâs misfortunes since the dawn of time, on us.
The man who we now knew believed he truly was the Antichrist, and truly sought to usher in Armageddon. âTo call God out,â he had said. âWhere is your God now?â he challenged in his first address as Nero.
But Nero had no idea who God was, and he failed to recognize that God doesnât work on manâs timeline. God works on Godâs timeline.
I slowly ripped off my choker and could see the wall splash in faint orange behind me in the dim light of the bunker. My mark was glowing, like all ours did. It helped the enemy to target us better, and Iâd had it since I was four. Iâd learned to live with it. And to cover it up.
I wondered if one day we would be equally as sinister in The Defiance. I wondered if we could be that cold and heartless as we struck back.
I wondered if I could be a sheep in a wolfâs clothing.
About the Author
Award-winning and bestselling author Aaron Ryan lives in Washington with
his wife and two sons, along with Macy the dog, Winston the cat, and Merry
& Pippin, the finches.
He is the author of the bestselling “Dissonance” 6-book alien
invasion saga, the post-apocalyptic Christian fiction saga “The
End,” the sci-fi thrillers “Forecast” and “The
Slide,” the children’s picture books “The Ring of Truth,”
“The Sword of Joy” and “The Book of Power,” the business
reference business books “How to Successfully Self-Publish &
Promote Your Self-Published Book” and “The Superhero
Anomaly”, 6 business books on voiceovers penned under his former stage
name (Joshua Alexander), as well as a previous fictional novel, “The
Omega Room.”
When he was in second grade, he was tasked with writing a creative
assignment: a fictional book. And thus, “The Electric Boy”
was born: a simple novella full of intrigue, fantasy, and 7-year-old wits
that electrified Aaron’s desire to write. From that point forward,
Aaron evolved into a creative soul that desired to create.
He enjoys the arts, media, music, performing, poetry, and being a
daddy. In his lifetime he has been an author, voiceover artist,
wedding videographer, stage performer, musician, producer, rock/pop artist,
executive assistant, service manager, paperboy, CSR, poet, tech support,
worship leader, and more. The diversity of his life experiences gives
him a unique approach to business, life, ministry, faith, and
entertainment.
Aaron’s favorite author by far is J.R.R. Tolkien, but he also enjoys
Suzanne Collins, James S.A. Corey, Michael Crichton, Marie Lu, Madeleine
L’Engle, John Grisham, Tom Clancy, Tim Lebbon, Christopher Golden, C.S.
Lewis, Stephen King and Dave Barry.
Aaron has always had a passion for storytelling. Visit the Dissonance saga
website at https://www.dissonancetheseries.com or The End saga website at
https://thisisnottheend.com.
Contact Links
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