Dead and Forsaken

Table
of Contents

Introduction: 5

CHAPTER 1: 6

Blood and Sand 6

CHAPTER 2: 13

Starting Over 13

CHAPTER 3: 21

Trouble at the Border 21

CHAPTER 4: 35

The Spreading Sickness 35

CHAPTER 5: 50

Death and Resurrection 50

CHAPTER 6: 62

Out of the Darkness
62

CHAPTER 7: 70

The Aftermath 70

CHAPTER 8: 77

Neighborhood Watch 77

CHAPTER 9: 81

The Murder of the Innocent 81

CHAPTER 10: 87

Dressed to Kill 87

CHAPTER 11: 95

Blind Trust 95

CHAPTER 12: 103

Test of Faith 103

CHAPTER 13: 114

The Night Shift 114

CHAPTER 14: 123

The Morning After 123

CHAPTER 15: 134

Extermination 134

CHAPTER 16: 153

Burial Chamber 153

CHAPTER 17: 171

Footsteps in the Dark 171

CHAPTER 18: 186

The Stairway to Hell 186

CHAPTER 19: 196

Last of the Living 196

CHAPTER 20: 212

The Final Salvation 212

CHAPTER 21: 221

Survival of the Fittest 221

CHAPTER 22: 233

The Beginning of the End 233

Biography 237

Throughout
our history the Gods has used fire, water, war and plague to cleanse
the earth’s population of the wicked. This demonstration of
power drew the survivors closer to their God. Death is man’s
ultimate fear. Arabic history books talk about people being brought
back to life for living an immoral life. Nordic Viking lore spoke of
a creature with an insatiable appetite for human flesh. Even the
enlightened minds of the western European society scared each other
with similar stories about the dead tormenting the living. All of
them are based on fear of the unknown. No man knows the time or
place of his death. We take life for granted. That's why you have to
celebrate everyday God allows you to wake up. What if today was Gods
day of resurrection? What if the world you know came to an end? What
if today was judgment day and your last day on earth?

Most
Christians believe that when Jesus comes back he will rapture them
up and take them to his kingdom in heaven. Unfortunately many of
them will be left behind. Only the true believers who did the work
of God the almighty father will be allowed to enter the pearly
gates. God only recognizes believers he had a personal relationship
with. Everyone else will be eternally separated from the presence of
God. All of the dead shall hear his voice and rise from the grave.
The wicked and unjust shall stand before him and be judged. The lord
will swallow the condemned in his wrath and devour them. Cast out
into eternal suffering they will be sentenced to second death and
hell on earth. Death is supposed to be final but what if it was just
the beginning? What if God commanded the forsaken dead to rise up
until they outnumbered the living?

Zechariah
14:12-13 “On the Day of Judgment the people of the earth will
be thrown into a great panic. A plague will turn them into walking
corpses. Their flesh will begin to rot. Their eyes will shrivel into
their heads. Their tongues will decay in their mouths. On that day
of great destruction neighbors will be stricken by plague then rise
up and attack each other violently.”

After everything that has happened I guess I should start at the
beginning. Just like everyone else in my family I grew up
Pittsburgh, PA. My mother met my father when she was a freshman in
high school. He was the local bad boy and lady’s man. It was
not hard for him to manipulate a young girl. She thought that he
really loved her but when she got pregnant he didn’t want
anything to do with her or me. My mother named me Kevin and gave me
Robinson her maiden name. She had to raise me all alone by herself.
I was the product of a single parent home and my mom struggled to
make ends meet. After years of street my father got arrested and was
sent to prison. Even when he was was released he was never involved
in my life. I vaguely remembered what he even looked like. I learned
how to be a man from the older guy's in the neighborhood. My mother
thought I was going to end up in jail just like my father.
Thankfully joining ROTC and playing high school football kept me out
of the streets.

After graduation I joined the
Marines to get away from the poverty and gangs. Before that I was
just sleepwalking through life with no direction. I was living at
home and working at a dead end job. My friends thought I was crazy
for joining up during wartime. It was a one way ticket to the front
lines. My mother cried as I waited in line outside the recruiting
office to get on the bus to boot camp. We were headed to Paris
Island in South Carolina. The military allowed me to see the world
beyond the streets. The pay was shit and the hours were hell but I
was proud to serve. Many of my fellow Marines came from poverty
stricken inner city neighborhoods or economically depressed small
towns. We were young working class kids trying to make a difference.

The first time my mother saw me in
my dress blues was at graduation. She told me she was proud of the
man I had become. That night my whole squad was pumped up and ready
to take on the world. We were all just kids trying not to come home
in a body bag. Two months later we were overseas. I served two tours
of duty in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. The first time I had to
take someone’s life I was sick to my stomach but I learned to
live with it. It was kill or be killed. During my last tour a close
friend of mine got killed.

Daniel Chen was my best friend
despite the fact that he was a diehard New England Patriots fan. He
had a strong sense of duty and loved his country just like me. We
met in bootcamp. He was well known around the base because of his
kind demeanor and that thick Boston accent coming out of an Asian
guy’s mouth. Dan was naturally charismatic and everyone liked
him. We both had a love for weight lifting, weapons and beautiful
women. Together we had starred death in its eyes many times and
lived to drink about it. Most people think war is about that
bullshit you see on those political news shows but when the bullets
start flying no one cares who you voted for or where you worship.
For us soldiers the war was about protecting the man to your left
and the man to your right.
There
was no margin for error.
We had gone out on
patrol that morning outside Kandahar and spent hours traipsing
through the desert. As the day progressed things got worst.

Dan and I ended up in a firefight
with insurgents when a suicide bomber slammed his car filled with
explosives into our roadside checkpoint. Bomb blasts like these
caused brain injuries, left shrapnel wounds and led to multiple
amputations. IED's were the biggest killers of U.S. Soldiers in Iraq
and Afghanistan. There was no real number on many others were
wounded. Nine Afghan police officers died in the blast along with a
lot of civilians. The Afghans sustained heavy casualties. The
insurgents were at war with the U.S. and their own government but
regular civilians were left to bear the brunt of the violence. A
large crater and ripped cloths soaked in pools of blood marked were
people had been standing. The lucky ones screamed and cried out in
pain while the others were left lying there motionless. At least two
dozen fighters surrounded our position. The remaining insurgents
opened fire on us with machine guns and rocket propelled grenades.

They wanted to draw us out and
funnel us towards their snipers. Bullets and shrapnel were hitting
everything. A whole lot of good people were hurt. The attack
included extended moments of gunfire and several large explosions.
Dan and I made our way to the insurgent position to engage the
enemy. All of them had concealed their faces with scarfs to prevent
reprisal by local government officials. Women and children scattered
in every direction. We were able to take out three fighters and one
bastard trying to plant an IED. He was trying to plant the bomb near
a group of wounded civilians. That way he could use it on other
people that showed up to help. It was a futile attempt that was
proven detrimental to his health. Dan lit his terrorist ass up with
a barrage of bullets that sent his saddles flying through the air.
Then he stood over top of him and double tapped him to be sure. The
insurgents were increasing these types of attacks and using larger
amounts of explosives lately. They had no problem killing their own
people or anyone else who got in their way.

The resulting deaths splintered
families and killed off whole house holds. Thousands of people left
their villages for government controlled refugee camps. The effects
rippled through the war torn community. Dan and I kept going and
rounded a disabled truck. We continued to duck and covers behind
cars as we moved further down the road. We anticipated little
resistance but walked right into a second ambush. The insurgents
randomly fired at anyone from our contingent that moved. As soon as
they spotted us there was no turning back. They had us outnumbered
but we still engaged them in a close quarters fight. Unfortunately
there was no place for us to hide in the middle of the street. We
had to crouch behind a wall and return fire in short bursts. There
were multiple threats out there. Bullets flew at us from every alley
and mud hut on the street. Some of the villagers including children
were trapped in between us. An elderly man ran towards us screaming
hysterically in Pashto the local tribal language. Bullets flew past
his head and struck a house. As he attempted to bolt past I knocked
him off his feet and dragged him behind some rubble. Somehow he only
got nicked in the thigh. The old woman following him was not so
lucky. She got shot in the throat and face causing her to fall a few
feet from us.

They wanted to kill Americans so
bad that they didn't care if anyone else got hurt. A gaping hole was
left in the spot where here eye had been. Blood had begun to congeal
and mat in her hair. Her body was left facedown lifeless and bloody
in the dirt. Dan returned fire trying to keep them at bay. Several
dogs barked like crazy running back and forth in a lot close by. An
American Apache attack helicopter patrolling the area flew over and
laid down heavy cover fire killing several combatants. The insurgent
fighters ducked down and took off running toward some houses. Dan
and I rejoined the fight and together we took a couple of them out
real quick. My arm was hurt during the chaos. A bullet hit me in my
left shoulder causing me to pivot sideways but I continued to fight.
I branched off and tossed some grenades then fired my gun while Dan
worked his way around to their flank. He knew the shooters position
and moved closer to get a clear shot. A group of terrified kids
rushed past him yelling. Another little girl was just sitting in the
street crying. She had been playing next to an abandoned car with
the other children before the shooting started. Dan felt empathy for
her so he picked her up and started running. Bullets tore into the
dirt all around them causing the livestock to scatter. Dan's
willingness to risk his life saved her. He carried her to an older
woman huddled in a doorway with another child. Dan always had a
smile on his face during a fight so when he looked back I was
surprised to see fear in his eyes.

I saw a flash as an RPG landed in
front of Dan. A cloud of sand and rocks sprung from the smoldering
impact spot. Dan was temporarily blinded and his body was sent
flying. A blast like that was usually fatal. I jumped up and
stormed the insurgent position methodically stalking them in a
brutal and frenzied attack. Mortars rained down around me as I
rushed head first into their lines. Every few seconds a flash shot
from the muzzle of my rifle as I squeezed the trigger. The rounds
sliced through their bodies and splintered their skulls into pieces.
I killed eight of them single handed before returning to Dan. I had
seen many of my fellow Marines hurt or killed on the front lines but
this was my best friend. Large pieces of metal were stuck in his
chest. The fragments had flown through the air and embedded in his
body. The pieces struck him between the plates in his ballistic
vest. They left several golf ball size holes in his ribcage and
stomach. An additional injury to his head caused blood to cover his
face and get into his eyes.

He was the youngest of seven kids
and his wife was nine months pregnant. Now he was lying on the
ground dying. The blast tore up both his legs and mangled his arm.
The left side of his face was burned. Metal shards were visible
inside his shattered patella. He tried to move but suffered from
temporary paralysis. He was bleeding heavily and blood was pouring
out the holes in his body. Even if I could have gotten him immediate
medical attention I don't know if he could have survived. There was
so much I wanted to say but I couldn’t find my words. Somehow
Dan managed to make light of the situation. He smiled and said he
hoped this was the first and last time I let a man rest his head in
my lap.

“
I'm sorry dog!” I
said with tears in my eyes. “I should have been there!”

“
Don't sweat it man!”
he whispered. “I'm OK. Just let me catch my breath. It feels
like I was sat on by one of those fat chicks you picked up when we
were on leave!”

Despite his humor I could tell he
was scared of dying. His voice was high pitched and urgent as he
faded in and out of consciousness. He coughed up a glob of thick
dark blood and started convulsing. A puddle of wine colored fluid
secreted out his body turning the dry rocky sand into mud. I smiled
down at him right before he closed his eyes. I had seen my fellow
Marines and friends risk everything to protect each other. It made
us closer than blood. We had seen better days but today was not one
of them. Dan died in my arms a few minutes later. I was unable to
save him. He like so many others had dedicated his life to his
country and gave the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom. At least
his family would be able to bury his body. After most bombings there
isn't enough left for the military to identify. I wrote his family a
letter regretfully informing them of his death and explained how he
died a hero thereby sacrificing himself. His family knew the risk he
was taking by becoming a soldier they just prayed that this day
would never come.

Now we all had to find a way to go
on living. I was fixed up at a field hospital and returned to duty.
The insurgents we killed had also pinned down another patrol. They
abandoned their Humvee after an RPG destroyed the engine block and
it was raked by gunfire. Several soldiers were wounded. Their
commander called for air support but there were no reinforcements
close by. They were left waiting on a counter attack that never
came. The outnumbered soldiers formed a defensive perimeter and
tried to beat back the enemy. Unknowingly our actions saved them
after the enemy combatants refocused their resources on us. There
was enough time for the remaining wounded to be evacuated after the
threat was neutralized. The military wanted to reward me with a
medal for my bravery. Dan received one too posthumously.

Every morning I woke up in
emotional limbo. I began to second guess myself wondering if there
was something I could have done to change the outcome. Still reeling
from the aftermath I started to enjoy killing and tried to inflict
the maximum amount of pain on my enemies. I was not a soldier
anymore. I became judge, jury and executioner. The lust for blood
consumed me. The killings went on and on. It was not good enough for
them to die. Those bastards had to suffer. They sent me home eight
months later because they thought I showed an extreme indifference
to taking lives. As a reward for my stellar service record I was
given an honorable discharge.

******

I ended up
staying with my mom. I had lived through two wars filled with death
and destruction. I saw and did a lot of terrible things over there
for my country and I couldn't forget it. It was strange to go from
living in a constant heightened state to what most people consider a
normal life. The next couple of weeks were a blur. I spent the day
listening to sad R&B songs or RAP filled with angry lyrics. If
that didn't clear my mind I played video games or accessed dozens of
porn sites. My erratic social behavior scared people around me.
Personally I was frustrated and confused. I just didn't know how to
articulate my feelings. It had been months since I had a reason to
leave the house or get out of bed. When I fell asleep I suffered
from night tremors and recurring nightmares. All the memories from
that day in the desert would come flooding back into my mind.
Certain sights, sounds and smells haunted me.

One day a car drove past and
backfired. I dove for cover and reached for a firearm that wasn’t
there. The psychiatrist at the VA hospital claimed that I was having
a breakdown. I don't know what the psychiatrist told my mom but she
thought I was going to commit suicide. She even hid all the knives
and scissors in the house. It all started because I wouldn't talk to
her about what happened over there. We had been close when I was
younger but some things need to be kept secret. Besides the only
people who knew what it was really like over there were dead or
still there. The suicide rate for veterans returning home from war
was seventeen percent. Unlike in past wars the battlefield medical
survival rate was ninety five percent but many of us manifested
psychological problems. It affected our personal relationships and
took a toll on the marriages of many of my fellow vets.