Back in 2019, I published a short story here at The Loftus Party called “Get ‘Em on the Kill List.” It’s about communists engaging in a terrorist attack on America, after which the American government deems . . . white, Christian men as the number one terrorism threat. And while I’m certain it is in no way prescient of current events, I figured I’d republish it now because it is such an interesting story. (Yes, definitely not a visionary tale about what’s happening now; just a fascinating read.)
So here again is “Get ‘Em on the Kill List.” Enjoy and share. (RELATED: The Communist Revolution: A Short Story)
The man breathed hard, peering around the corner of the brick building. He pulled his head back and crouched, shuddering and whimpering, and covering his head with his hands.
Victoria White descended from the sky behind him. Her boots touched the ground, the leather groaning ever so slightly. “Drop your weapon and—”
The man yelped and spun around, his camouflage abilities starting to kick in. The yellow hammer and sickle on the red shirt of his uniform faded. The weapon he lowered at her did not.
Metallic energy screamed from Victoria’s fist and cut him into two pieces. She walked over and destroyed the communist’s rifle. He was Indian or Pakistani. They weren’t the white, Christian terrorists that her superiors had assessed they might be.
She barely bent her knees and left the ground, accelerating into the sky.
Adam was hundreds of meters away, flying after the few remaining enemies. They desperately tried fleeing from her husband.
Victoria rushed towards the fight. Adam zeroed in on one of the airborne communists. Streams of smoke constantly emanated from the man. Or woman. It was impossible to tell. Adam shot a fiery, electrical blast from his fist and struck the target.
The communist’s head zoomed straight at Victoria. She fired a metallic stream without slowing down, vaporizing it fifty feet in front of her. Her blast had filled her line of sight for two seconds and she lost sight of Adam.
Emerald, flashing lights suddenly popped into her peripheral vision. A communist flew out from between two buildings, careening so violently he almost smacked into one of them.
Victoria turned hard, angling at him. A glowing, red and black blur beat her to him. Adam grabbed the man bathed in the shimmering, green glow and flew straight down.
The two hit the ground and cratered it. Dust and pavement exploded in a ring. The rumbling and crackling reached Victoria seconds later.
“Mission complete,” Adam told Victoria through her tiny earpiece. “Head for the rally point. We’ll call in the SITREP as soon as we get there.”
Victoria acknowledged and started for it, gently rocking side to side in the sky, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Field office just called us with the superhuman assets’ report,” the assistant to the president and senior advisor told the president. He looked out the White House window, his back to her. “They neutralized the threat. But it wasn’t a bunch of white, Christian terrorists. They were communists. Non-Christians. Non-white. All of them but one were non-white, at least.”
“Interesting,” the president said. He rubbed his jaw and turned around. A smile cracked his face. “Then we were right after all.”
“If all but one were non-white, that means one was white,” he told her. “And I guarantee you that when we dig—when journalists dig—we’re going to find that at least one of them identifies as a Christian. Or used to. Or was raised as one. Or went to a church service once. And that lets us know they were white, Christian terrorists.”
She nodded. “But will the American people be capable of understanding that?”
“Listen,” he said, approaching her. “We have to stop this threat.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Ensuring the American people are on our side is a crucial part of that. So we must persuade them. We must show them our truth.”
“Then we’ll have to do it fast. The bigots will try to spin this,” she said.
“Absolutely.” the president nodded solemnly. “America was built on racism, and there are still plenty of people looking for an excuse to demonize ‘brown’ people. Or cry, ‘Communists!’ and go on a red hunt.” He let go of her shoulders. “We cannot allow anyone to distort the truth or manipulate this incident for their own purposes. And once we get the majority of the American people on our side, we’ll be able to use this.” He walked to his desk and grabbed a black binder.
“The classified kill list? We only use that to hunt down foreign terrorists,” she said.
“Not always. We’ve used it on citizens who joined overseas terrorist groups,” the president reminded her. “And when the time is right,” he said, returning to her, “we’ll put the greatest threat in existence on it.”
“White, Christian, American men,” she said, slowly smiling.
“That’s right,” the president replied. “And once that happens, we’ll be able to take care of them once and for all.”
“Didn’t sound like the field office was too happy when you told them the terrorists were a bunch of diverse communists. I mean, even apart from them saying your actions were ‘too monstrous’ they didn’t seem pleased,” Victoria said to Adam.
They had chosen the top of an abandoned building as their rally point. Adam stuffed the secure communications system back into his assault pack.
“Marxists have taken over America. Nothing good can come of that,” he replied.
Victoria shook her head. “Can’t believe we’re where we are. But what can we do about it?”
“Be ready. Start thinking about what we’ll have to do if—when—that time comes.”
“That’s a big task. Government is all-powerful,” Victoria said.
“It’s a gigantic task. But government isn’t invincible,” Adam said. He slung the assault pack on his back. “And the field office was right, in a sense, about me being ‘monstrous.’ I am a monster. It’s just I’m the monster the other monsters fear. So maybe, if we plan—and if the Almighty wills it—we’ll be able to do the impossible. What do you think?”
Victoria smiled and ran her hands over her voluptuous hips. “When the day comes when we’re all on a government enemies’ list? I’ll be more than happy to do the impossible with you.”
Top Image: Original artwork by Paul Hair, © 2019.