War God: Final Retribution

The garage door closed down with a clatter at exactly 17:37. Most days it meant overtime, deadlines, one more client squeezed in before dark and getting paid for services well delivered. But that was not the case today. Today he was going home early.

Van wiped the grease off his hands with a rag that had seen better years and tossed it in the dustbin. He flipped the sign on the window to close, locked it and went out through the back door.

“Leaving early?” said Marcus, the owner of the shop next-door was emptying out his trash at the back.

“Yes,” Van said, adjusting the brown paper bag under his arm while locking the door. “Birthday”

“Ah, Noah’s what now? Six?”

“Six tomorrow”

“You’re going to let him fly it inside again?” Marcus was grinning “Mrs Smith on shop 4b is still angry about the ceiling fan”

Van let something close to a smile cross his face “He'll go to the park, I promise”

He got inside his truck and it smelled of motor oil and the lemon air freshener Laura kept on getting him.

He dropped the paper bag on the passenger seat and the bag fell to the side revealing a red and black coloured helicopter. He had skipped lunch earlier and spent about forty minutes in the toy store making sure it was the exact one Noah had pointed at some weeks ago.

His phone vibrated on the dash, it was a call from Laura. He put it on speaker.

“Hey,” her voice came through half laughing and half yelling. In the background, a cartoon theme song was playing loudly and he could hear the excitement in Noah's voice.

“Dad? Is daddy home?”

“Hey you, I'll be home soon. I'm just leaving now” Van turned on the ignition.

“Better, because someone has been guarding the front door ever since asking if the helicopter man is here yet”

“I got it alright,” Van said, chuckling.

There was a pause and the background noise reduced.

“Okay, drive safely. I'm making dinner, Noah’s favorite” Laura said

“great, save me a plate”

“You bet. I love you”

“Love you too”

Van hung up and pulled onto the main road leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Dusk was settling over the city, street lights flickered on and traffic moved slow. It was the beginning of the evening rush hour traffic.

Van drove with one hand on the steering and the other hand out the window. On the right, he saw a political campaign poster with the tag “To Serve with honour” . Someone had drawn a mustache and beard and the politician's clean shaved face. Van shook his head, chuckling a little . To the left of his rear mirror, he saw a black SUV. It stood out because the windows were tinted and it had a number plate that is far from the one issued to regular citizens. From his experience in the military he recognized the number pattern. It was a military-issued vehicle and it was directly behind him.

Van looked away. It was a public road so it could mean nothing. He kept his hand steady on the wheel and didn't check the mirror again.

The SUV continued straight ahead while he took a right at an intersection. Old habits, he thought to himself.

“I’m just Paranoid” He said to the empty truck adjusting the mirror while stopping for a red light.

After what felt like an eternity, the light turned green and he turned onto the street where his home was located.

The street was quiet, suburban, the kind of place you raised a kid, not the kind where anything happened

Van was just a few houses away from his. He saw a bicycle parked outside a building and his mind went to his son. Noah had never wanted a bicycle for his birthday. He was afraid he would fall off because he was not big enough to ride so he settled with the helicopter for his birthday. Noah wanted to join the military and fly a real helicopter like his father and Van couldn't have been prouder that his son wants to be like him even though the military has its downside.

Van's mind snagged on the cake, the candles. Him and Laura had debated whether to use six individual candles or a single candle shaped the number 6. They had also debated whether to let Laura bake it or buy the cake from a store even though Laura had promised she would make it better this time. They debated about a lot of things. Clothes to wear, whether to trim Noah's hair before the party, small things, the kind he looked forward to at the end of every day.

He was anticipating the look on Noah's face as he opens the gift wrap to find the helicopter when he felt a shockwave.

The truck shook and the windshield shattered, together with the house windows on the street.

He slammed on the brakes and shielded his face with the back of his arms. His ears went deaf for a moment and then came the sounds in a roar. The screaming and the car alarms.

Van got out of the car and saw smoke up in the sky.

The world slowed down and immediately Van sprinted blindly towards the smoke hoping it was the bakery by the corner because they've had issues with their gas mains lately. Nothing else mattered, only Laura and Noah.

He pushed past the group of people blocking his path including those running towards him, away from the blast and others just standing there watching in horror. His phone vibrated in his breast pocket and he was hoping it was a call from Laura to tell him that they were okay.

He stopped running and brought out the phone. It was from an unknown number. He stared at it for a moment and answered the call praying it was not from the hospital.

“Mr Zero”

The male voice was flat and had no accent he could place.

“Who's this?” Van demanded, the siren drowning out his voice.

“Your house just exploded” the caller said and the line went dead immediately.

Van lowered the phone looking ahead as the smoke shifted in the evening wind revealing the epicenter of the blast.

He tried so hard not to believe it but it was impossible because he was standing right in front of a smoking crater where his white and green suburban home used to be.