Excerpt: Twisted Religion

From my point of view, living life in this day and age was dreadfully dreary and no doubt the most strict it has ever been—for the Untied States of America, anyway. I guess I should start out by saying that this was no longer the United States of America, but rather the Grand Republic of Islam. The old United States had given out its freedom and fight when Israeli troops plowed through our streets and took people and things into their own hands. It was the turning point of which I remember. There was no longer the great flag that stood for our unity and freedom, but rather there was death, destruction and the rules of old.

I remember the first day of Invasion Week. The Israeli troops had taken the city of New York City first. I remember because I was a little girl of twelve standing in horror as I watched the ruthless slaughter of hundred of thousands of people in front of me. Men in uniforms and turbans shot and sliced down people. Pools of blood flooed the streets and bodies began hiting the ground one by one. I saw faces of demons and not the men these soldiers were supposed to be. I remember losing my mother to a soldier, and I remember her blue, terrified eyes stare into my own confused ones. I remeber running away as I heard the dying screams of my mother behind me, and the steady path of tears running down my face. I hid in an abandoned building and in an opened crate. I remembered holding my knees to my chest and crying for the world to go back to normal, waiting for someone to say "It was all just a joke!"

But it never came.

Several minutes later, I was later found by a different soldier who beleived that I was just a kid and who had did nothing wrong. He did not know that I was supposed to die with my mother. I had heard the previous soldier call to the others and say, "Find the girl, bring ehr back, and make kill her." The soldier now was a tall man, about six feet and three inches. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes similar to my own. He had on a different uniform, far more elegant than the previous soldier had on. The funny thing that happened though, was when he reached his hand out to me and asked me in perfect English: "Are you afraid?"

I was scared, and he knew it. However, I wanted to show him that I was a big girl, that I could take care of myself and that I did not need anyone's help to do so. So, I stood up, stared him right in the eyes as I tilted my head back, and said, "I am not afraid. Who are you?" I made a point to ask him bodly about who he was. He might think of me as a stupid girl and leave me alone. Although I knew that he was a bad guy--who else would he be?--I felt an odd comforting sensation when Iw as around him, like a girl to her puppy. I did not like it, but I yearned for it at the same time. It was twisted fate, and I could do nothing.

The man regarded me with humorous eyes as he replied calmly, "I am General DeVry and I am here to make sure that you do not get caught by the others," he said. “You are too bright of a child to be lost to a couple of hounds on the street.

"And why would the others want to catch me? And a general for what army?" I proceeded to ask questions. I wanted to ask him what he meant by “too bright to be lost”, but I said nothing about that. It seemed to me that it was a personal quiestion that did not need an answer. His amused smile staye don his face as if I was a toy for his own amusement. Then again, I knew as a little kid that we were amusing. We did things that the gorwn ups had called "cute" and "adorable"--words that now meant nothing to me. They were as empty as I thought they would be and it was pointless. I did not care.

"I am the general of the United States Army, little girl. I mean you no harm. I did not follow you--you just happened to be in the warehouse of all of my hidden equipment. You ran in here jut as I was about to go out. And why would the other men want to catch you?" he asked as if I knew the answer. He thought of a bit, and even scratched his chin. "Well, they would want to catch you because these men know no boundries. These are not even men, my child. They are demons of religion and they wish harm to any who do not follow."

I just stared at the man in awe, and I had no such lame and witty comeback to that. My little head would not function at all and I felt as if I was useless to this sort of thing--which I was anyway. "Well, then why are you here and not fighting the demons? I thought you and the army were supposed to protect us and all that. Why are you not fighting?" The question rang in my ears as if it had been spoken by a high pitched voice. It was gnawing at me, and I knew that I did not want to know the answer.

"I am not fighting because some of my best men and I are running away," he said simply. His answer shocked me and I knew that I was not going to like it. He must hve caught my expression because he kept going. "We cannot do anything as of yet. We heard of the attack in Washington D.C., and I came here immediately to get my stuff. We are running because we have no chance yet. They are also attacking on the California front, and we are short handed. This is not the time to strike back. We will strike back, my child, but this is not the time." He looked at me with serious eyes, and I beleived him. I knew what he was saying, but I did not like it. Instead, like the little girl I once was, I headed into accusation and denial as if this were a fight on who spilt the milk on mom's clean floors.

Mom. Suddenly, all of my awareness was suddenly focused on her. My eyes began to water again. However, I refused to let a single one fall in front of the general. Instead of my retort, I asked him, "Can I come with you?" I felt the need to be watched over, and the need to be loved. My mom was gone, and I needed someone even if it was a total stranger that offered me kindness. I looked at his eyes and I saw underlying sympathy, and even some pity although I did not know what either of those words meant back then.

To my surprise, the General DeVry pulled me up from the crate and put me down next to him. He grabbed my hand and led me out of the warehouse through a different doorway and he picked up a pack that was next to it. He did not look back down at me that next trip. That was the beginning of my new life, and my old was but a living memory.