The Last Peace

The food court was packed—warm weather driving teenagers, housewives, and families to the local mall. Raheem smiled at his wife as she stole a bite to eat between helping the children. The glow of her brown skin, the same aura that tamed him from sowing his royal oats many years before, continued to entice the man. Large brown eyes looked up the meal, commanded by intuition, and she smiled at her husband’s subtle flirt. A broad smile interrupted by one of the kids, and just like that, the moment was gone, and she continued eating the cheat meal.

To the right of him, the first by-product of the lust for his wife. The boy devoured the cheeseburger with the ferocity of a lion. His features were almost identical to the father. Chestnut brown skin, dynamic cheekbones, and a strong chin promised a powerful structure when he became a man. For now, the boy took out his fire and anger on the cheeseburger in front of him.

               To his left, the by-product of love. His baby girl diligently separated her French fries from the chicken nuggets ensuring that the sweet and sour never touches the sliced potatoes—the features of his daughter mimicked her mother. Raheem was going to tease the daughter, move a French fry, and watch the anarchy play out until his cell phone rang.

               Raheem silenced the phone and placed it back in his pocket. It didn’t matter who it was, and he didn’t have time for them today. Today he would play with his children, take them to see the movie, and enjoy the family time he missed over the past two years. The last deployment was long, and he missed so much. To create a better future for his family, he endured the time away.

               The phone rang again. Puzzlement. His wife shot daggers at him, but he showed the phone, and the settings turned off. He turned the entire phone off to her approval. She took a sip of her soda. The unspoken conversation dancing on the new tension between the couple. For the moment, Raheem would not die in the food court, but if the phone rang again, he may. Cut down like so many husbands had before.

               A vibration in his pocket and then the phone rang once more. He took it out and stared at the phone. The number was unfamiliar to him, but the name at the top was not. Ogun was the sender, but that was impossible because that was his name, the true name. Suspicion replaced his anger. Who had the power to do that, he thought?

               The daggers returned, sharper this time, they shot from his wife’s eyes with the precision of a sniper. Raheem stood from the table, pointed at the phone, and held up one finger. Her arms folded, and she turned her head away. This phone would cost him a chance to make child three that evening, but he may be in more danger. He answered the call, put the device to his ear as he walked away from the table, and without speaking, he listened. A conflict raged in the background of the call.

               “Raheem Mitchell,” said the voice. It took a moment for Raheem to place the voice. It has been so long since he last heard it. Not only that, it was raspy like the caller smoked a pack of cigarettes before calling.

               “Administrator. You know better than to call this line. I am with my family, and you just put them in danger.”

               “No, Raheem,” he said, coughing. “You are already in danger. They got us. They got us all. I barely escaped. Everyone is dead. All the secretaries, operators, and administrators. You may be the only one left,” said the voice. An explosion, gunfire, and then the line went dead.

               Raheem felt a pull at his leg. His little boy was tugging on his jeans. “Daddy, mommy said you could get me another cheeseburger. I am and hungry,” whined the boy. Raheem barely processed the words from his son. Trained eyes scanned the area looking for something out of place in the suburban mall. He searched for the signs of the old life, the people the inhabited that world and the weapons they used. The world he left behind to be with his queen. The chaotic world Raheem never wanted to introduce to his prince at his leg and the princess at the table. Amir and Amirah.

               Then he saw them. Two men that were out of place in the mall. They didn’t stand out because of clothing. It was always the eyes. Men that have past can’t relax the eyes. Rage burned in his veins. Another tug on his leg signaled the impatience of his son. In all of Ogun's battles, he felt anger and resentment at an enemy. It was never personal, but this time, it did.

               “Amir, do you want to see something cool?” said Ogun. The power that he left dormant of the last ten years recalled to the surface—asked one last time to provide the man with the strength he needed to defeat the enemy at the gate. At first, when he called for the power, it did not respond. As the time ticked by, it heeded the call, and the growing power rose to the surface. It was ready once again to serve its master.

               “Yeah. Is it a cheeseburger?” Amir smiled. “Is it a big cheeseburger?”

               “Not a cheeseburger, something much cooler than that.”

               “Cooler than a cheeseburger. Nothing is cooler than a cheeseburger dad. Can I get the cheeseburger after you show me?”

               “Sure, but first, we have to walk back to the table,” responded Ogun. The child relented, and they walked back to the table. Raheem’s eyes continued to scan the room. His wife, once shooting daggers, was now concerned—the face, demeanor, and posture of Ogun were different. It was unlike any she had ever seen before. His queen never saw the man angry. Raheem never raised his voice once, cursed, and otherwise disrespected her. But she saw the anger on his face, the tenseness of his body, and instantly knew something was wrong. A level of concern enveloped them, and she decided against launching an attack on him until she understood the nature of the problem.

               “Mommy. Daddy is going to show us something cool,” said the boy returning the to table. Raheem helped his son into the chair the entire time he scanned the food court. Raheem saw two men, which meant more were lurking. Those two were in the open, visible, and drawing his attention. He needed to find the last two.

               Raheem wanted to flee, take his family, and get out. Try to run, but as he walked over, he paused on the standard tactical planning. The warrior assumed too much. The battles of the past years still fresh in his mind. He thought only of the enemy he just finished fighting and not a new enemy or an older enemy. Ogun wanted to stay and fight. Maybe they wanted him to flee, run into a hoard of soldiers, and make it easier for attackers to kill the family once they entered his SUV. Is that how they took out everyone else? He thought, did they all run with family, panicking, and using the technique.

               “Raheem, you are scaring me. What is it?” said his wife. The look of concern etched on her face.

               “I am sorry baby. I have to tell you something,” said Raheem. His eyes were still scanning every location around the food court. “I lied to you. My name is not Raheem Mitchell,” he said. She pulled back, squinting her eye. “My name is Ogun. That means nothing to you, I know, my name is well known as some of the other ancient protectors like Apollo or Mars, but I have defended this planet for a hundred thousand years. I believed all major threats were over when we met. I thought I could rest for a lifetime or two. I cannot. I apologize. I would never have stolen the life of your husband. I am afraid it is now over.”

               Ogun clenched his hand. A spark of yellow light and the dark chocolate skin morphed into gold. The flesh became metallic but pliable as the wave of gold migrated from his fingertips to the shoulder. The children's mouths hung open, his wife looked shocked, and the men took a step back. People in the food court took notice. Some rushed to take out cell phones and record the events live. Others started to run, but most paused—light radiating from his body. The light was like fire, and it consumed the clothing that tried to resist the power emanating from his body.

               Ogun reached out with his hand, gripping the man with an invisible force, and closed his fist. Across the food court, the body of the man crumpled into a ball. Limbs jutted at unnatural angles, and the carcass fell to the ground with a plop. That sent everyone in the food court running except for his family.

               “Just a man,” said Ogun. Some relief in his system. Maybe they were just men, a lucky group that stumbled onto the truth. That would explain the ease of disposing of him, but how could they kill the others?

               Ogun turned to the next combatant as he charged. The Orisha laughed and tried to squeeze him, but it didn’t work. I guess they were able to tap into the old magic too, thought Ogun. He took a step forward, but he saw something in the eye of his wife. The large brown eyes focused on something behind him. Ogun reached out, knocked her off the chair, and the location she once sat filled with a bold of energy.

               Ogun grabbed the table and tossed it in the air at the location of the bolt. The table flew like frisbees until it exploded in the rafters of the food court. A man jumped from the rafters and flipped a couple of times before disappearing into the crowd when he landed. Ogun turned, searching for the other enemy, but saw nothing. One arm grabbed his daughter, the other his son, and then he yelled for his wife to jump on his back. She complied.

               Ogun screamed, and light enveloped the family. When it faded, they reappeared somewhere else. The lights triggered seconds after they arrived. They were in a room the size of a common living room. White walls, floors, and furniture provided a sterile sense. Ogun placed the children on the white couch. His wife jumped off his body and slowly circled him toward the children.

               “Wow, that was cool, dad,” said Amir. “Can I do that too?” the boy stood on the couch, punching his hands out. Ogun turned to his daughter, she moved away from him, in fear of her father’s form. Ogun tried to comfort her, but nothing worked until his wife grabbed her and held her tight.

               Ogun took a knee in front of his son. “I love you, son. I am going to be gone for a while. Take care of your mother for me,” he said, standing and looking at his wife. Her eyes returned the look of sorrow because he wasn’t the person she married. Her anger suppressed only because of the weight of sadness. In a couple of minutes, her entire life shredded in front of her eyes. The walks on the beach, the home in the suburbs, and the loving hugs were gone. Were they all a lie, she thought?

               “I will be back. If I do not return, this place will protect you. It is safe here. When I return, I will explain more.”

               An hour later, a flash consumed the room, and Ogun returned. This time he fell to the white floor. The once sparkling gold body reduced to a charred, scrapped, and beaten carapace. In some locations, the brown skin exposed. His wife smelled the burnt flesh and melted metal. Ogun coughed blood onto the floor. His wife wanted to run to him, call out, and touch him, but she was too scared of what he was and what he became.

               Ogun turned to the couch, surprised to see that the family had not moved at all. The children were napping and snuggled under a blanket they found. She finally stood from the couch and walked over to her husband, grabbed his face, and placed him in her chest, and cried.

               “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

               “I am happy to disappoint,” he joked. Ogun coughed, and a pain shot threw his body. He tensed from the agony.  

               Painfully she asked, “Was it all a lie? Do you love me?”

               “I love you, and I love our children,” Ogun said. The gold covering faded into his skin once again. Ogun could look into her eyes without the gold coating. “I could not fake that in a thousand lifetimes. We have a little time to talk. It will take a day to regenerate, find other survivors, and take the fight to the enemy. But for now, let me tell you the story about us, humans, and how we became what we are today…”