G. A. Colin

Hello

The Sons of Apollyon

Satan will be bound, cast into the bottomless pit, and shut up, and a seal placed upon him so he can no longer deceive the nations. However, after the thousand years are expired, he will be loosed out of his prison for a little season. He shall go forth to deceive the nations once again. Rev 20:1-3, 7-10.

Prologue

June 1st, 1810 The Northwest Territory,
now known as Ohio

Gabriel’s head emerged from the black water as he walked up to the shore of the underground lake. The Wyandotte’s, with whom he has lived for the last two hundred years, had called this body of water the lake of the eternal night. With his ability of influence, even the bravest of the tribesman would feel the hair on their neck rise if they entered this part of the cave.
It was the perfect place to imprison Apollyon, or so they had thought. Gabriel was given one job to do living among the savages, keep the seal that held Apollyon secure. He failed.
He turned back to look over the dark water, and thought at least the sword of God was still safely embedded in a rock at the bottom. Gabriel smiled thinking of all the names the humans had given to Ahyah, and his brother Apollyon.
He volunteered to be the gatekeeper of whom the humans called Satan. Living in the old world he had started to wonder which brother was right. However, here in the new world, he felt reborn. He was thriving amidst the Wyandotte.
Once the invaders arrived. He knew the Indians had no chance. He had to find a way to lead them, so he became their chief. Now, he did not relish telling Tecumseh he had signed a treaty with the invaders, who had come to address Gabriel by the name of "Leatherlips."
Gabriel could hear someone approach, and he turned to the tunnel that led to the upper level of the cave. He smiled, thinking only Tecumseh was brave enough to walk through the influence he had left on the entrance. His smile disappeared once he heard Tecumseh’s rapid pulse. He would not need to tell the warrior about the treaty, since it was obvious that Tecumseh already knew. As Gabriel started to climb through a small opening, he had decided he would not use his power on the human who had become his friend, even though he was certain it would not be an easy conversation, whatever, they discussed.
He worked his body through the tight gap. When he emerged, he knew Tecumseh was to his back. Just as he was going to turn to speak, the feeling of skin giving way to a foreign object left him unable to utter a single word. All he could do was stare at a spear protruding from his chest as his blood dripped from the tip.

Chapter 1
Present Day – Columbus, OH

After all the years and the many different lands he has traveled. Finally, he has found his true calling. He was chosen to usher in a new world order.

Standing in the bedroom with a twenty-foot ceiling made of Brazilian hard wood, he began thinking of the events that brought him to Columbus.
The extravagant master suite made the king-sized bed look small in comparison. The only other items in the bedroom were a freestanding mirror, a black medical bag and a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. The limited light came from the Beech wood that burned in the fireplace made from cultured stone, and the television tuned into the local news. The sound turned down to a whisper.
On the hearth, antique surgical tools were carefully laid on a black cloth. Ben Fagan Kneeled in front of the fire, and his prized collection. His pale fingers lightly touched each one, as a cruel smile crossed his lips. With the first two wh**es, he used his charm. Perhaps tonight he would not be so gentlemanly.
He picked up the bone saw, and his index finger traced the teeth of the saw. “The bone saw is so primitive, yet so effective.” He whispered the words aloud, and nicked his finger on the last tooth of the saw. Gazing at the crimson drop, he licked it before putting his finger in his mouth.
With reverence, he gently returned the Civil War era medical tool to its slot in the black cloth. Once in place, he rolled the cloth from right to left. With all the tools wrapped, he tied the attached strips of cloth into a bow to secure the contents and placed them in the black leather bag. Before closing the bag, he checked to make sure he had his calling card in there as well.
Het turned from the bag, and he gazed at the floor standing mirror to admire his naked form. Running his hands over his smooth torso, his skin tingled at his own touch and thoughts of the exquisite pain he will deliver tonight. Thinking of his plans, he realized he did not yet confirm the casual encounter with the Jessica Simpson look-a-like.
Looking at his Tag Heuer watch, he realized if the date was on, he needed to get dressed. On the bed, he laid out two possible choices for tonight’s hunt. A pair of black Jeans, and a simple matching T-shirt or the more sophisticated look, the Armani suit. His laptop interrupted his decision process when it announced, “You’ve got mail.”
He sat down and placed his laptop on his knees. He clicked on the link in his email to read the response from ‘Horny in Columbus.’ Reading the response, his smile widened and his canines ran out. “She wants to meet at the Motel Forty. Now that brings back some fun memories.” He began to touch himself thinking of his last visit to the east-side motel. Of course, in 1937, it had a much different reputation.
The Armani is too formal for the Forty Motel. He walked over to the bed, and pulled on the jeans and the black tee, forgoing any underwear. His last decision would be which shoes to complete the outfit for tonight’s hunt. He contemplated the black Fila’s. However, he considered himself a Southern Gentleman above everything else. Jeans or not, he had to wear the Fulton Captoe Oxfords.
Once more, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, and was more than satisfied with his look. Rubbing the outline of his manhood as it strained against his black jeans, he imagined being named Governor for his valor. “Soon they will learn who the real God is. No longer will we hide in the shadows. And one day it will be known, that Archibald Benjamin Fagan was the one who knocked over the first domino that changed the world.
With his thoughts of glory, he ignored the images and sounds from the television. That changed when the desk anchor announced that Elisabeth St. James would report the latest update on last month’s gruesome murder. He grabbed the remote, and turned the volume up. He moved away from the mirror and focused all his attention to the news.
Fagan hissed his impatience as he waited through the commercials for the promised report. Watching this local news to hear her commentary on his artistry became his compulsion. Finally, the beauty with blue eyes filled the screen.
“The Bambi Motel is known for its Adult theme décor and the triple X-***ed movies streamed to each room. With last months brutal slaying it has added murder to its infamy. The unidentified victim was found hanging upside down and decapitated, sharing the same M.O. as the woman found the previous month at the Lazy L motel.”
The camera scanned away from St. James, showing the hotel room where the victim was found for added effect. “The police have declined to comment when I asked if Columbus had a serial killer walking its streets.” St. James delivered the news with concise precision and confidence, like she knew the real story, even if she could not share it just yet.
Listening to the report, he smiles when she opines that the two killings may have religious connotations. She is smart as she is beautiful. I will have to meet this reporter.

“Sargent-Detective Huntington-Whitely said that the victim appeared to have known or had planned to meet the killer. Though the few witnesses say they only saw the victim check in. This is Elisabeth St. James, Channel Six News, reporting live from the Bambi Motel.”
When the news turned towards sports, he looked at his watch. Turning off the TV, he tossed the remote on the bed, and picked up the black medical bag. His heals echoed throughout the empty mansion as he walked out.

Standing there at the edge of the frozen pond, she hugged herself against the cold. It was always the same. A hazy fog kept the other side of the pond invisible. What she knew, no one would ever believe. Today, she thought. "Today, I cross this godforsaken pond and bring my baby home!" Her words were spoken with anger, conviction and promise.

She had taken every weapon she could carry. A AR-15 with 20 banana clips, a desert eagle on her right hip, a G***k on her left and knives strapped to both calves. With a a deep breath, she took her first step on to the ice and whispered, "I'm coming for you Muhammadan!"

Getting old sucks.