The Final Option
Kyle Robertson
Copyright © 2014-2018 by Kyle Robertson. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded or otherwise without written permission from the publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown, living or dead to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Published by PIMI eBooks
www.pimiebooks.com
This one's for Jehrick and Tia. Much love.
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Contents
Foreword
Chapter One: Genesis 5:29
Chapter Two: Acts 25:20
Chapter Three: Samuel 14:20
Chapter Four: Esther 2:23
Chapter Five: Ezekiel 9:1
Chapter Six: Genesis 10:10
Chapter Seven: 1 Kings 22:16
Chapter Eight: John 6:64
Chapter Nine: Judges 18:5
Chapter Ten: Numbers 35:17
Chapter Eleven: Leviticus 25:24
Chapter Twelve: Jeremiah 46:3
Chapter Thirteen: Exodus 18:26
Chapter Fourteen: Job 34:11
Chapter Fifteen: Leviticus 6:2
Chapter Sixteen: Matthew 24:31
Afterword
About the Author
Connect with Kyle
One Last Thing...
Foreword
This story started in 1991. My best friend Jeff and I were going to get some snacks from an “all-nite” supermarket before we went to play some pool. It was during the time of Operation Desert Storm. The U.S. was carpet bombing the Middle East.
Jeff asked me, that with all of the carnage of war and the state of worldly affairs, what if God reapplied his wrath, like Sodom and Gomorrah or the 40 day/night rains. The engine sparked.
We thought of, not if, but how God would do it. We had a strange discussion on the way to playing pool.
We had always touted ourselves as comic book writers, so I took this question seriously. I thought it would make a cool series, so I began developing it. It didn’t go far with the weight of responsibility on me. Supporting a family isn’t easy.
It had been 16 years from that pivotal evening of this story’s birth to begin to tell it and I have come to believe the saying about being “doomed to repeat” history. The question comes up once more. I have more time to work on this story now. It’s time for my story to struggle through puberty, and become an adult. Right now, it can drink and fornicate legally while checking its 401k.
This story has comic book origins. That was where I was when I started it. Well, I hope it can still be a good story without the pictures. MCU is doing it, and DCEU is right around the corner. I hope you enjoy it. I also hope we become rational enough to stop being “doomed”.
Remember, this is a work of fiction. You may not agree with religious or political views. Please enjoy the story, knowing it's just that, a story.
Alright, I’m done with the PSA stuff. Let’s get this engine purring.
Chapter One: Genesis 5:29
It’s summer, the time of relaxation. This is the time for students to enjoy the weather. It’s the time when home projects become a proud realism for some. Swimming parties, picnics, basketball games in the park, and watching baseball on television. Summer is a fun time.
Things change.
Dr. Halverson was enjoying one of those days with his family in his backyard. He was bar-b-queuing on his charcoal grill. Dr. Halverson thought of himself as a true grill master. He never used a propane grill to cook. He believed the taste was too sterile. In order to get the real Mesquite taste, you had to cook with charcoal. He had a devilishly hot bar-b-queue sauce he concocted. It was called Nine Kinds-a-Fire. Nine different spicy peppers and herbs soaked in beer and honey. His friends loved it. He was busy being the GM while his wife sunbathed, holding their baby. His other two children were playing with the dog in the sprinkler.
His children were a girl and boy. Their names were Rayne and Takoda. His newborn was named Panthea.
His wife, who he loved without question, had the privilege of naming them. She wanted them to be singular in a crowd, so their names were unique.
Their dog was a fifteen-year-old family member, born before the children. His name was Max. Dr. Halverson was happy he had at least got to name the damned dog.
The good doctor watched his children playing with Max. They were playing Keep-Away with his favorite chew toy. Max was having fun with them.
Dr. Halverson knew because of Max’s age, he would have to take him to the proverbial ‘farm‘ soon. Looking at Max running and jumping with the kids, he pushed the inevitable from his mind. Max looked like a two-year-old show dog to him. He wanted to keep it that way. He stopped thinking of having a best friend who was 105 years old.
They had a large ranch style home in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Property was expensive there, but they could easily afford it. The doctor had a specialty. He was not only a doctor but an inventor as well.
His title was Cyber Graphic Organ Holographist. Working as a doctor in the emergency trauma ward was one of the most stressful jobs for anyone--even great doctors to have. They worked up to twenty hours straight without a break. If there was an emergency surgery, they couldn’t just wait for the next shift to pick up where they left off. They had to finish. Even the greatest doctors had an uncompromising nemesis, fatigue.
Fatigue was the gremlin that cost people their lives. It left sponges inside bodies, misdiagnosed patients, and administered the wrong medication.
Dr. Halverson recognized his foe and went after it. He found a way to defeat fatigue.
He created a medical robot he called MediDoc. It was a tireless, precise tool for a medical staff.
MediDoc treated every emergency victim in the trauma ward. It was amazing, but it wasn’t sentient.
It gathered information from the patient and sent it to a computer medical center in Colorado. Doctors transferred the treatment back to the MediDoc by doing a holographic surgery at their workstation. The MediDoc repeated the procedure of the virtual surgery exactly.
The doctors had a normal eight-hour shift. With the new information the MediDoc sent to the medical center, the next shift could see what the problem was before having to take over. It was seamless, and saved many lives.
The doctor was the best at what he did. He was the perfect consultant for the MediDoc all across the country since he invented it. He kept the medical world a step ahead of trauma.
“Who wants burgers?!” Dr. Halverson yelled, letting everyone know their food was done.
“Me, Daddy!” The children yelled back in unison.
“Good,” Dr. Halverson said. “Set the table then, Kody.”
“His name is not Kody, Steve,” His wife whispered with a hint of irritation. “Takoda isn’t that baffling to pronounce.”
Steve had a ‘your time for bitch mode’ look on his face as he glared at his wife. He knew why they had a great relationship. He learned a long time ago to let things pass, and he was always wrong.
“I’m sorry, Vanessa,” he apologized. “I’ll say it right next time.”
Vanessa gave a scolding nod to Steve. This was one of those ‘let it pass’ moments for him.
“What should I do, Daddy?” Rayne asked her father with an eagerness to h
elp out, not noticing the name incident.
Steve snapped out of his superficial disdain for his wife, and focused on his daughter.
“You get to help with the sauce, baby,” Steve said with childlike excitement to his daughter.
“I don’t want that devil sauce on my burger, Daddy. It hurts like fire.” Rayne had a concerned look on her face as she admitted this to her father.
Steve knew how spicy his sauce was, and knew it was too much for his six-year-old daughter to handle. She stuck her finger in it once out of curiosity, and never even wanted pepper on her food after that.
Steve smiled at her, and gave her a little josh. “You sure? Daddy worked all day on that devil sauce. I’ll just put a bit on your burger, ‘kay?”
“NO! MOM!” she screamed in terror as she ran to her mother’s side. She grabbed her mother around her waist in a frightened hug.
“Aww, don’t worry baby,” Vanessa said, giving her a consoling rub. “Mom will stop mean ole Daddy from getting you.”
Steve realized he was wrong again, as always. Instead of explaining his humor, he just apologized, again.
“Daddy’s sorry, baby,” he started with a sympathetic tone. “I’ll make sure that devil sauce won’t get you.”
Rayne looked over to her father and saw him down on one knee with his arms out. She took a minute to break from her mother, but she began to smile. She ran to her father’s arms with the feeling of safety, and hugged him tightly.
“Let’s make some scrumptious burgers, ‘kay?” Steve said soothingly in her ear.
She nodded into his shoulder and had a small sniffle. “‘Kay, Daddy.”
Steve had a smile on his face as he looked over at Vanessa. It faded quickly in the shadow of her monumentally irked glare.
Well, I ain’t getting any tonight, he thought as he sent Rayne to the picnic table.
“It’s official. I’m an idiotic jerk,” he told Vanessa. “I won’t do it again for fear of severe punishment.”
Vanessa saw his sincere remorsefulness. No matter how stupid he could be, she still loved him. She accepted his apology and wanted to let him know.
“If you’re lucky,” she kissed him on the lips. “You might still get severely punished for this one.”
She walked past him with their baby in her arms towards the table.
Steve’s mind became immediately lustful and forgot about him always being wrong. He had to catch himself and remember this was family time.
Hell, I might just get some tonight anyway! He thought as he joined his family at the table.
Takoda was fixing the plates. Rayne was sitting at the table, waiting for the feast. Vanessa was putting Panthea in her baby chair. Max was chewing on a delicious rawhide bone, oblivious to the food on the table.
Steve grabbed his sauce from the grill warmer and began to pour it on Vanessa’s and his plate. Takoda was ten, and very curious about the sauce. Steve placed a drop on one of his burgers to slowly introduce him into manhood.
They all sat down at the table, ready to eat.
“Say grace, Takoda,” Steve instructed his son.
Takoda placed his hands together, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. After everyone did the same, he began.
“God, thank you for this food…” he started. That was when it felt as if God showed up.
Takoda was cut short by a powerful swirling wind blowing everything off the table. Everyone looked up at the mysterious, blinding light that emanated from nowhere in the sky. Six figures repelled from that soul-scorching light to the backyard.
The first figure landed near Steve. He grabbed Steve’s shocked and dumbfounded frame and slapped a strange patch on his forehead. The rest of the family was speechless, as Steve stood silent, with a blank stare on his face.
Vanessa automatically grabbed Panthea as the rest of the figures descended.
The other children ran from the table in fright towards the sliding doors at the back of the house. They turned back to see if their father was all right and saw two of the figures drop to one knee. They leveled rifles at the children.
Vanessa ran to the children in horror as it happened.
The figures fired on the children. Both bullets entered each of their heads simultaneously. The bullets were Glazer Sabot rounds. They hit Rayne and Takoda in the face. With the velocity of the bullets, they went through their heads. Their screaming faces sucked through the hole created by those Sabot rounds and ended up sprayed across the wooden fence in disarrayed chunks of meat, brain matter, skull, and blood.
Vanessa’s fears were confirmed as the children fell lifeless to the ground. She was devastated but knew she had to protect Panthea. She turned into the protective den mother and kept running towards the house. She didn’t let hysterics set in just yet. That was surely for a later time.
She ran through the sliding doors into the kitchen. Max guarded the entrance to the house with salivating barks and growls. When she heard the gunshots, the yelp, and the ceasing of Max’s defensive barking, she knew his short-lived chivalry was valiant.
She made it to her bedroom and pulled open her dresser drawer. Vanessa took out the gun. It was a debate she had with Steve earlier in the year about having one for home defense in a neighborhood this safe. As she leveled it at the bedroom door, she realized it doesn’t matter where you live, violence has supreme reign over every demographic area.
After they killed the dog, two men entered the house tactically, as if they were on a mission to assassinate the president. They made it to the hallway where the bedroom doorway was. They knew she was there.
One of them slowly slid a small fiber-optic surveillance camera to the bottom corner of the doorway. The other saw the image from the camera portrayed on his personal video device. It showed the woman standing with her baby. She had a gun aimed at the doorway.
He showed the other one the screen. The one nearest the door gave a nod of understanding to the one holding the screen.
There was no movement for a minute. Vanessa was ready to defend herself and Panthea. That was when everything caught up with her. She began to tear up as her children’s barbaric murders kept recurring to her like a skipping CD. She wiped her eyes on her shoulder to keep her aim as clear as possible. They killed the rest of her family, but they wouldn’t finish.
That was when the man closest to the door combat rolled into the front of the doorway. He landed in an attack stance, with one leg straight and the other one under his body. The stance steadied him for a quick shot. It shot the gun out of her hand. He was so quick she didn’t even get a chance to pull the trigger.
Vanessa held Panthea tighter as if to say, “I am sorry I couldn’t protect you better.”
The man had his gun aimed at Vanessa’s head. All he had to do was fire.
“Take out the target, K-hotis,” the other figure ordered.
“Executing, General Oswalt,” K-hotis replied.
K-hotis saw how bewildered and desperate Vanessa was. He saw her tears streaming down her cheeks. She wasn’t frightened. Those were tears of anger. They were either for her family’s executors or herself for not protecting her baby. Either way, fear wasn’t there. It changed K-hotis’ intention.
“I… cannot execute that order, General,” K-hotis told General Oswalt.
It took less than a second for Oswalt to place his gun on K-hotis’s temple. “Take out your target, Private.”
The gun violated K-hotis’s thoughts with cold heaviness. He knew what the mission was. He understood the reasoning for their barbarism. He accepted it earlier but questioned it when it was authorized to kill a fearless mother. He knew the gun to his head was loaded, but his conscious overrode its menacing firepower.
“General… I cannot…” K-hotis began.
The explosion from Oswalt’s gun stopped his words. The bullet went through K-hotis’s head with a shocking thunderclap. As he slumped, Oswalt stepped into the doorway and aimed his gun at the shocked Vanessa.
“You
sick bastard!” Vanessa yelled at him. “You kill your own?!”
“He lost sight of the mission,” Oswalt said as if giving a report. “His clouded sight warranted death.”
Vanessa looked down and saw K-hotis’s gun had slid to about two feet in front of her.
“Why?!” she asked. “Why are you killing my family?!”
“You may be comforted to know your husband and infant are not targeted,” Oswalt told her. “My God ordered me to cleanse the world of sin.”
Vanessa was surprised at this revelation. “I don’t know or care who your ‘God’ is, but we did not deserve death by your hands!”
“You should care who my God is because he is your God as well,” Oswalt said.
“My God doesn’t arbitrarily kill!” Vanessa yelled at him.
“This conversation is irrelevant. You should have read the Old Testament,” Oswalt said as he cocked the hammer of his gun. “Despite your argument, purification will happen.”
Vanessa held Panthea tighter and said. “I hope your God is who you think he is, because you’re about to meet him, you blasphemous murderer!” She lunged towards K-hotis’s gun.
Oswalt fired a shot into Vanessa’s hip. It bent her forward in excruciating pain. Then he fired two more rounds into the top of her head.
“I've already been chosen. He wants to see you now,” Oswalt said to a jerking, unresponsive Vanessa.
He walked into the bedroom to Vanessa’s corpse. The baby was unharmed. He bent down, and lightly rubbed Panthea’s head. She was crying, still gripped by Vanessa.
“There, there, little one,” he said, unsuccessfully trying to comfort her. “God has a plan for you. Don’t worry.”
He was taking Panthea out of Vanessa’s arms, but Vanessa wouldn’t let go. He pulled, but she still had a strong grip on Panthea. Oswalt had to place his boot on her forehead to help him pry Panthea from her grip.
“Resilient bitch,” he said as he cradled the baby, and carried K-hotis’ dead body back to the helicopter.
The Final Option Page 1
