In a dark, musty cave on top of an Alaskan snow-swept mountain, seven Curtain men knelt to pray.
“Brothers,” Sampson said in an urgent voice after prayers ended. “We have suffered here for far too long. It’s time to begin to reclaim our former glory.”
“Amen,” chorused the rest of the group.
The descent into ignominy was achingly familiar. The near-death shooting of that martyred Congressman Steve Scalise 50 years earlier was the start of the second United States Civil War. Red Curtains vs. blue Curtains. Massive mayhem. Death, torture, plagues, and starvation. Heroism and cowardice. The red Curtains were gloriously victorious.
But in the massive celebrations, the Muslins, with assistance from that Curtain traitor Vladimir Putin, conquered the United States.
“But what can we do?” Joshua asked bitterly. “The Muslins control everything. They have bribed those blue Curtains that still remain to continue the Civil War. We have few weapons, and those Muslin defenses are impenetrable.”
“Faith, brother!” counseled Elijah. “We can’t afford to feel sorry for ourselves. Besides, all is not lost.”
“That’s right,” Sampson interrupted. “We have supporters scattered about. And we still have a couple of star-smashers.”
“Praise the Lord!” several men shouted.
“Hush,” counseled Gideon. “The wind has ears.”
“Star what?” asked Isaiah.
“You know,” Joshua said impatiently. “A weapon that smashes every creature in its path 700 miles in every direction from its detonation point.”
“Muslin defenses are almost impregnable,” warned Samuel.
“And the longer we wait, the more impregnable the Muslin defenses will become!” snapped Joshua.
“There’s a time for everything under heaven,” boomed Elijah. “And I say it’s time to kill! Destroy! And out of the fire will come a new heaven and earth.”
“Praise the Lord!” six men shouted, their voices louder than before.
“Hold on!” a quiet voice cut through the din.
“Yes, brother?” Elijah asked.
“Brothers,” Isaiah said in a calm, soothing voice. “Surely you remember how we controlled those Muslins those many years ago.”
An uneasy pause.
“Sure, we did our share of killing Muslin radicals,” Isaiah continued. “But beginning under that consummate Curtain Ronald Reagan, we sold weapons to Muslins of all persuasions and cheered silently as they killed each other.”
“Those were glorious days!” Elijah said reverently.
“So the tables have turned!” interrupted Gideon contemptuously. “It’s time to use the Muslin strategies against them!”
“Praise the Lord!” bounced off cave walls.
“Brothers,” Isaiah pleaded.
Shouts subsided into surly silence.
“Is that what we’re put here for?” Isaiah asked. “Kill or be killed forever and ever?”
An ominous silence.
“What about peace-making? Long-suffering? Loving our enemies?”
“We’ve heard this before from you,” mumbled Elijah.
“Be silent, brother Isaiah!” rasped Gideon.
“What about nonviolence?” Isaiah continued. “Gandhi? King?”
“Apostates!” shouted Sampson.
“Toss him out!” Joshua shouted.
“Traitor!” several others yelled.
“And what about the research that shows that nonviolent actions are twice as likely to succeed than violence?” Isaiah pleaded.
“Science!” scoffed Elijah.
“Sampson, would you do the honors?” Joshua asked.
“Yes, brother!” Sampson said, silencing Isaiah with one punch. Isaiah’s mouth moved in silent prayer as Sampson threw him over his shoulder and hurried outside.
“Gideon, would you draw up a plan of action?” Joshua asked.
“It would be an honor, brother.”
“We’ll pray for you,” Sampson told Isaiah, his voice barely carrying over the wind-driven snow. Isaiah’s lips continued to move in prayer as he threw Isaiah off a 2000-foot cliff.
Sampson returned to the relative warmth of the cave as Gideon began to plan the attack.
“Let us pray,” Sampson interrupted urgently.
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