Covenant

THE PROMISED CHILD

The dark horror, which would not end for another five years, began with the dismemberment of a man who had been targeted for beheading by my sword. This is the night that everything changed for better and for worse. I am a killer and I will not change.

I hid behind a tree trunk and some wild thorn bushes, watching for any shuttle movement around me. For several minutes, I waited and pondered about the bloodshed to come. The rippling of flesh from bone and muscle. The popping of eye balls. The squirting of the dark red liquids. Only the thoughts of sinister acts laid dormant.

Then I saw him, the man whom I was supposed to behead.

A red truck drove up to the Mr. C’s gas station and the man stepped out, he wore a gray suit and tie. Fresh and clean cut, typical for his stereotype. He went to pay for the fuel. I watched carefully to identify the license plate and it matched the numbers on my wrinkled sheet of paper. It read, DNV 185. That is when I made my move out of the woods for a surprise attack.

“There he is, Bodaway,” I uttered.

Then I noticed a small boy in a red sweater playing in the rear seats of the cab. As I unveiled myself out of the darkness and into the view of the street lights, we made eye contact. The boy smiled at me. I ignored him and retrieved my weapon of choice, the Lakota sword, it was still covered in the blood of my previous victim from two nights ago. A few more seconds passed as the boy and me continued to stare each other down. He looked about five years old, maybe six.

Then to my left, the man returned and began to pump his gas. Strangely enough, he didn’t notice me - a suspicious character with long dark hair wielding a stainless steel sword in the street lights of the early morning. Then I began to walk again as I came to a halt. The man slowly began to look my way. His eyebrows raised as he seem to fluster and finish pumping his gas. I gawked at him with a devilish expression. There was no hiding my appearance, I was here to do a job.

The man was pastor at a local church. The order to kill him was given to us by our medicine men, they received messages from the dark spirits about which Reborn’s needed to be executed. In this case, the man was about to awaken into a faith giant. If that happened, it would have been much harder to kill him. Our god, Lucian, wanted him dead.

“Son, are you okay?” the man asked me.

I didn’t respond.

I froze. I felt it! I felt his awaken powers rising, the incredible potential this man would have one day if he continued in his walk in his faith. It scared me a bit, but I had to remain calm. To be still as the waters of the night.

Then the small boy stepped out of the truck and began to tug on his father’s pants. He uttered, “Daddy, daddy, who is that scary looking boy?” Yet, I was a boy. A sixteen year old boy and a killer of the Reborn faith. A boy who followed in the footsteps of the Covenant of my great grandfather. Not sure if I believed our religion to be true, but I obeyed as a son obeys his father’s wishes.

Then the mere sight of the boy made me question beheading his father.

“Tristan, get back into the truck,” the man ordered his son, his name was Tristan. The boy followed his dad’s orders. I think my mere presence frightened him a bit as he peeked out of the back window with widened eyes of fear.

Then the pastor turned back toward me and asked again, “Son, why are carrying a sword at this time of night? Do you need help?”

“I don’t know,” I stated. I don’t know why I uttered those words. I felt a hint of guilt taking this man’s life while his son watched in terror. The thousands I had murdered before tonight were no problem, but this one was different. I couldn’t bare to do it in front of his child.

We continued to lock eyes with each other as his suspicion of me grew, I could see it on his face. He knew something wasn’t right with me.

Then on the other side of Mr. C’s gas station my younger cousin, Aaron Lakota, crept out of the woods and withdrew his blade in his right hand. He probably thought that I waited to long to kill the man. Aaron wanted to murder him, I had decided that it was my job, not his. I am the leader.

That was it. The face of the small boy struck me cold. Cold as worthless scum. To see his father’s head come off would haunt him for life. Regardless, of the thousands of people I have murdered, I couldn’t steep low enough to take this child’s father from him. Not today. He would feel the same lost that I had with my own father. Even though he was alive, I am dead to him. I’m nothing more than a killing machine who does his bidding. The small boy was enough to convince me otherwise. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t!

I whispered to the man, “Sir, get back into your truck and drive away as fast as you can from here. Do you understand?”

He calmly glared at me as if I were a psycho path saying confusing words.

“If you don’t do as I say . . . you will die, consider this you’re lucky day, now go,” I warned.