Chapter 26.

HERA.

Judgment Day has arrived.

I butchered Lucy and left her to crawl out of the deepest hole I could create. I hung the Preacher from his own balcony, his children and husband tried to get him down – they were hung as well. I led Grayson out into the desert and let him run away as far as he could – I blew out his knee caps and let the coyotes deal with him.

As per my word, I let Mr. Stone and his family go to the East Coast. He swore he would never return to the Gray, if anything he looked relieved.

And now, it was Meredith's turn. Oh how I have dreamt of this moment.

She lived in a glorious villa. A sprawling compound with trees and rose bushes, an infinity pool, out at the edge of the Gray where no one would bother her. Living in this sort of seclusion gave her the opportunity to deal with any trespassers, who would be shot the instance they stepped foot on her property. Shame that they lined the gravel driveway now, I recognized many of them – service men and women that I fought besides in the war.

"Alpha Unit," I said, the eight soldiers around me snapped to attention. "Prepare the gasoline. Similar to Operation-7B in the East Coast."

Sargent Ryan whistled. "Forgot 'bout that operation."

"What did we use to call it?" another soldier asked.

"Skunk pumping," a soldier chuckled.

"Can smell the bitch from out here," another soldier mumbled.

"She can probably smell you too, private," I smirked, the rest of them patting the man on the back and chuckling. "Alright, gentlemen. Shall we?"

They nodded and flipped down their night vision goggles. Sergeant Ryan held up five fingers, then four, three, two and then one. The entire compound plunged into darkness, my golden contact lenses snapping on their night vision. I motioned four of them to the west wing of the villa, the other four to the right. They all carried containers of gasoline with them, and not the normal gasoline you can buy. This was special grade gasoline, gasoline that would ignite if you even so much as look at it the wrong way.

I slid the golden desert eagle out of its holster, nine bullets and nine targets. The grass whispered as I stepped over it, the golden cross around my neck as cold as the metal in my fist. I strode up the stairs, the cold concrete heaving with every step. I strode past dark windows and empty gardens. The front door loomed in front of me, three heat signatures through the door on the other side. I holstered the gun, these bullets are only reserved for the sinful. My hands shall do the work of the Lord until then.

I crouched down and pressed my shoulder to the door. I muttered, "Oh Lord, pour out your wrath on the nations that refuse to acknowledge you—on kingdoms that do not call upon your name. Show them no mercy in your act of strength."

I slid on my fingerless gloves and rolled back my shoulders. I slammed my fist through the glass bottom of the door and plunged my razor like nails into the man's calf. I yanked his leg through the portion and tore through muscle. I grabbed the pistol strapped to his thigh and shot the door lock. My boot crashed against the door and it flew open. Three bucks of the gun and three bodies fell to the floor. I threw away the pistol and cradled a special grade M16, beautiful and pristine, slick and dark in the faint moonlight.

Her sickly brother first. I gingerly stepped into the house, scanning behind corners, looking underneath tables. I came across the dining room, large and intricate, old paintings covering the back wall. Half-finished meals still on the table and a pot of soup still warm to the touch.

"Everyone be alert. Be sure to inform me of any movement underground," I muttered.

In unison: "Copy."

I stepped back out into the hallway, several doors on either side of me. All of them with no heat signatures coming from them. But I'm smarter than that. I turn the knob of the first door, swinging around the rifle and scanning the room: an empty king sized bed with the sheets still warm. A door at the back of the room and whimpering coming from it. I strapped the M16 to my back and brought out the desert eagle, I sauntered towards the door and tapped the barrel of the gun on its handle.

"M-Meredith?" the voice called, a whisper from behind the thick door. "What's going on?"

I could see him moving towards the handle. I cocked the gun and moved out of the doorway. The lock clicked and the door creaked open. I rushed him. I threw him against the back wall of the bathroom, his head smacking against the white tiles. He groaned as I pressed my boot on his weak chest.

"Where's the rest of your family?"

He looked up at me with dazed eyes, a smile creeping on his face. "So you're the-"

I squeezed the trigger. The buck of the gun, the earth shattering shudder, the burst of the smell of gunpowder. All bringing with them a flash of memories long forgotten.

I heard scrambling out of the room, followed by several footsteps. I ran out of the bathroom, the cupboards and the bottom of the bed were open: heat concealed compartment. I'll give the old hag some credit.

"Alpha Unit. Several targets moving towards the front door. Apprehend them and bring them to the main room. This battle has already been won."

I walked back into the dining room and picked up the bowl of soup. I lifted it towards me my mouth, the thick liquid leaving a warm trail down my throat. Still no taste, shame, it looked delicious.

I found the living room. Uncharacteristically modern for such a house. Waterfalls running down the far wall into a gentle pool, immaculately modelled black and white couches lining the far walls. I dragged a solitary chair into the middle of the room and sat down, the fire place still warm in front of me.

Three soldiers came into the room, all of them holding a child by their hair. All of their eyes were red and puffy, mucus running down their faces, little breaths rasping. Two of them were boys: older with brown hair. The last was a girl with blonde hair. Missing the final one: the youngest granddaughter.

I leaned forward and smiled, they drew back. "Now, children, where is Meredith?"

They all shook their heads, panic shocking them into silence.

I sighed and brought out my gun, the barrel staring into the eldest face. "I'm giving you three chances, Meredith." I cocked the gun. "One." The gun exploded and the boy's head painted the white carpet. I cocked the gun again. "Two." The bullet snapped away the second oldest life. "Thr-"

"Wait!" her shrill voice shrieked. She rushed into the room, an elder man stumbled in after her. Others followed: a woman that looked like Meredith but younger and a man holding her hand.

Meredith reached towards the smallest girl. The little girl's eyes glued on her dead cousins. I know that look, the look of anger and fear, of revulsion and rage. Seen one too many times during the war, the first time myself being the recipient of tragedy. Maybe she could join my ranks, she can't be a few years younger than Private Runt. A force of nature the two of them would be.

"You heartless monster," her husband screamed. "You'll rot in hell for this. To sit there so calm and unfazed, like we deserved this cruelty."

Meredith's daughter cradled the two dead boys. She was frozen in time, her tears hanging from her cheeks, her face inches from what used to be a face.

Her husband lunged towards me, one of my soldiers yanked his arm behind his back and forced him to the floor, his face slamming into the crimson pool of blood at my feet.

"Now," I said, "Which one of you would like to see your relatives first?"

"Lieutenant Colonel," Sergeant Ryan called. He came from behind me and placed a cold glass of liquor on the table next to me. "We were un-able to find her granddaughter."

"Is she still on the grounds?"

"Possibly."

I nodded and sipped the alcohol. Bland. Damn you, Hunter.

"Get away from my family!" a small voice squeaked. It came from upstairs, the small blonde girl stumbling down the steps. She held a shaky gun, the barrel too big for her tiny fists, the gun itself straining her small arms. "O-or I'll kill you!"

My soldiers were all in the room now. Covering all the entrances and exits. I'll let this girl play her game, she could be an asset like her sister. Or better yet, an asset to her older sister's change. She stumbled her way into the middle of the room, separating myself from Meredith and her family. Her older sister's eyes were locked on her, her blonde hair still in the fist of one of my soldiers.

I stood up and walked towards her. She didn't take a step back, she stood her ground. I crouched down and gazed into her blue eyes. I pressed the barrel into my chest and just above my heart.

"Show me your hate."

Her little fingers rested on the trigger.

"Avenge the family that I've killed."

She's crying now. Hot tears bubbling in those innocent blue eyes. Her white dress plastered with her cousin's blood.

"Show me your resolve," I commanded. "Your hate, your love and your vengeance. Show them to me and pull the trigger." I leaned towards her and she still didn't take a step back. "Let me tell you little girl, once you pull that trigger there's no going back. You begin to stand on a pile of bodies so high that you begin to see the edges of heaven itself, but the more bodies you take the further away heaven seems to get. So kill me and prove to me that you're the same as me."

"Kill her," Meredith cried out. Shaking and in the arms of her husband. "Kill her, Rhea. She killed Tommy and Franklin. Uncle James too."

She forced the gun into my chest.

But she still hesitated.

"Pathetic." I pressed the desert eagle onto her forehead and added to my pile of bodies.

Five bullets left. One to the man screaming on the floor for his dead daughter, the other for the mother cradling the dead boy. Another in Meredith's husband. And the second to last in Meredith's knee. I wasn't going to kill the older sister of the dead girl. I'd set her path in stone. She was going to be an asset, she was going to be the hate to Runt's rage. She was going to be the scream to Runt's silence. Yin and Yang: Runt's balance the same way Hunter was mine.

"Sergeant. Take the girl to Private Runt. She will be joining the battalion."

He raised his eye brow. "Yes ma'am."

The girl offered no retaliation. Only a brief pause to yank her sister's necklace off of her limp body. A silver necklace with a name on it. Good. A bind to her hate towards me.

My soldiers took her out of the room, her eyes still locked on her dead family. Her eyes still locked on the shrieking Meredith. I put my boot over her and forced her face into the bloody carpet. All the years of being looked down on, all the years of being ridiculed and played with, all the years of being publicly mocked. And now look at her, underneath my boot and choking on her family's blood.

I kicked away the pistol the little girl had brought and left Meredith screaming my name. She screamed obscenities, she damned me and my family, she spat and threw object at me. I shut the door to the villa and gave the signal to my soldiers. I sat in the back of the SUV as the villa erupted in a large ball of fire, the orange and white highlighting the little girl's face next to me.

The roar of fire shook the car, the wave of hear searing the trees and bushes near the house.

"Ma'am!" a voice shrieked through my ear piece. "An attack. At the Manor."

I sat straighter and swore. "The Watchmen?"

"The Gatekeepers."

Judgment Day had not yet concluded. "Activate the Walls of Jericho."