CARLA
Right after the bombs were dropped, a buncha people considered it the end times. They thought that God had finally exacted his wrath upon us, and that the few survivors needed to repent or something, because they weren't raptured along with the currently deceased.
In repenting, a lot of the religious folk did completely outrageous things. Some thought that purging the world would reopen the gates of heaven for them, so they began to hunt and kill those they deemed as sinners. A lot of innocent people have died. These crazies even have shot and killed countless petty thieves, prostitutes, and even people who simply don't believe their same beliefs. Some even went so far as to burn people at the stake. That's what they did to me.
I'm a pretty average person. Maybe a little too nice, but not enough for it to be a crime. I've never been religious, but my parents are strict Catholics. Throughout my life I've been somewhat of a rebel because of it. I started dating in elementary school, lost my virginity in middle school, and had my first abortion in high school. That may sound pretty insane but at the same time, it's not a crime to have and crave fun.
Pretty soon after the bombs dropped, my parents ratted me out for being the village whore or something like that. A lot of angry people tied me up and proceeded to strap me to a haystack, which they set on fire. I still remember the executioner's face - my mother's face, as she aimed the flamethrower at me. My body would have suffered far worse than third degree burns had not a savior appeared.
MALCOLM
Only animals could sink so low as to burn witches at the stake. They can still be saved, regardless of how much of Satan's evil has penetrated their souls.
The girl was innocent, and she was in trouble. I pulled my rifle from my back and blessed it before I took aim at the woman before me. She fell most easily. I said a prayer for her.
Several in the crowd began to panic, as I expected. Many fled, fearing they would be next. And they would have been if I had the time to deliver God's wrath and save the witch.
Fortunately, she had been placed in the middle of the street, meaning there were houses on either side of her, both easily accessible.
I put out the fire as fast as I could and helped her down. Her skin was slightly charred all the way up to her face. Before I could get her off of the blackened hay, she stumbled and fell. Smoke inhalation was probably the culprit, though she could have been shocked at how much mercy the one true God can show to the wicked.
I carried her to the nearest home, which was very difficult, considering she was twice my size, and set her down on a sofa to dress her wounds. When she came to, she told me her name was Carla. I told her my name was Malcolm. I told her God had given her a second chance to bring His word and light into the world. She nodded, knowing I was right, and fell back asleep.
She must be having sweet dreams of her newfound religious freedom. Perhaps when she wakes again, I will tell her the story of the glory, and correct her wicked ways, whatever they might have been.
Then at dawn, we will leave this desolate place.
CARLA
That guy that had shot down my mother and technically saved my skin was talking to me all the while I was out. He was rambling on and on about God and Jesus and how the good word needed to get out in order to save the world. And could he ever talk. I wished he'd talk about something else though. Coming out of unconsciousness to a sermon is not exactly enthralling. And he had a lovely voice! What a shame.
Well, now I was in debt to somebody who was no doubt a stupid amount of crazy.
When I finally woke up, the first thing I did was get a good look at my rescuer's face. He was a pale, pasty white kid with silvery bushy hair, and crystal gray eyes. He was wearing a green military uniform and a deep frown. Everything about him was uniform, opposite of me.
I was dark, a child of Latino and white parents, with vibrant red hair. I was big. He was small. I was covered in burns. He was without a flaw.
Before I could speak, he told me to get dressed. I then noticed that I was only dressed in bandages. Wow, I was thinking, not even a second to mention my sexy hot extremely sought-after bod when he got to see it all, full frontal and probably back!
I took my sweet time going through the neighbor's deserted house to find clothes, because there was no way Malcolm could just ignore a naked woman, no matter how religious he was. I had clearly lived in a religious town all my life. I knew how easy that was. I had made many a good boy bad.
I knew that this new thing, whatever it was, would involve us both fighting to 'persuade' the other. Constantly.
MALCOLM
By the time the sun had risen the next day, I was prepared to continue my journey north. Our current president was residing close to the Canadian border, and did not realize he would need the help of the lord our God if he wanted to continue leading this great country.
When I told this to Carla, she was very hesitant to come with me, but I finally convinced her when I said that with my help, the United States could very easily become the promised land.
It didn't take long for her to complain about her wounds after we began our journey, so I spoke to her, God through me, and healed her spirit of hesitance. She claimed that God's mysterious ways were taking much longer than usual today, so I had to pull her along in a wagon for several miles. It was a great opportunity to preach to her and tell her more of my testimony.
See, I am part of the Kyrie family, of a long line of priests and missionaries. For centuries, the Kyries have shared the word. We even predicted the corruption and bombs and the dead returning to wreak havoc on the living. They thought we were crazy to store weapons and prepare for war, but they were wrong!
Before we even left Carla's suburb, I collected their flamethrower they used to purge the wicked of their sins. Having more weapons means more power for the side of righteousness. Having the flamethrower means being able to purge the entire world of evil. I knew God sent me there for a reason. Perhaps Carla is a test of my faith.
Perhaps I won't need her for long.
Good thing she has a newfound fear of the fiery wrath of the creator.
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