God's Hand

Father Gustavo was born and raised in the city he provided for. He was orphaned at a young age due to gang violence and was taken in by the local church. It wasn't long until he noticed his gift given to him by the Lord himself. A gift in which he could not use on himself, but that did not stop him from sharing it with whoever was in need. It was the gift of healing.

He spent his adolescent years learning The Word of the Lord while healing all who came through. At first the process took hours. His gift required a lot of focus and prayer while standing over the one in need. His gift grew as he had grown to become the Father of the church.

Many in the community would bring their loved ones to the Father who was now able to mend damaged or diseased areas with just a touch and prayer. He was able to learn to mend anything with no more than a few focused gestures of his hand with the unfortunate practice over many years. The possibilities seemed endless.

Father Gustavo welcomed all that came for his aid without asking for anything in return. Most respected his wishes while some were insistent with their gifts. He would put whatever earnings he received towards the church or the community. The Father also made a point to only heal in the church to avoid any unwanted eyes or extortion.

This helped him hide his gift from most of the world into his later years. The Father was a humble man, a good man and most of all a God-fearing man. Therefore, he used his gift as such.

Gangs of all races and colors would rise and fall with not one standing above the others. Each gang regulated their streets without remorse. When one would step out of line, then another would answer in the vilest way imagined just to prove a point.

One thing was for certain. The gangs that ran the city considered Father Gustavo's church a sanctuary. At least, for the first decade of his services. A mixed-race gang by the name of "People" was on the rise.

They did not limit themselves to race or color if you lived by the letter that represented three things: populate, power and potency. They had many, they were well armed, and they had the best drugs in the city. Father was tidying up the church one lovely Sunday evening when he was interrupted by belligerent knocking at the church door. This was no issue, for there is always someone in need.

He answered the door to have a member from one of the gangs push his way in while carrying another in his arms. Father Gustavo recognized the two. He remembered when they were just boys attending his services with their mothers. Or when they were brought in with merely a cold, and he used his gift to aid their sicknesses. Now one held the other in his arms while they bled all over the church's floor.

"Good grief. Vincent, please lay him over here. Tell me what happened," calmly said Father Gustavo. Vincent ran over and placed his brother in battle down on the altar and cried. "Those mother fuckers shot up our spot and hit B man! Father, they shot B! Help him please!"

Father Gustavo rolled up his sleeves and spoke. "My son, I know you're upset. Let's take a breath, and please refrain from using such language in our Lord's home."

B was groaning in pain and holding his chest. Crackling followed his every breath as blood spurted out with each fall of his chest. Father Gustavo knew he needed to act fast. Vincent watched the Father open B's shirt with a sorrowful expression stained on his face.

Father Gustavo placed a flat hand over the bullet wound and the other over B's forehead. He slowly pointed down with the hand over B's chest while his other hand kept mind calm. The round lodged in B's chest began to be drawn out of the wound to the Father's finger like it was a magnet.

The sound of guns being racked back from behind caught Vincent and the Father's attention. Father Gustavo looked up as several shots rang out in the church as he felt B's life leave his body. Vincent's body slumped to the side with blood quickly puddling under him.

Now one of the guns was pointed at the Father himself. Father Gustavo looked down at the two lifeless men in front of him and cried. "What have you done?"

Father Gustavo looked up to see the three gang member's standing before him with a barrel shoved in his face. One of them said, "Everyone chooses a side pops. Looks like you chose the wrong one."

The Father put out his hand out of instinct. The head of the gangster in front of him exploded leaving a mess of meat from the neck up. Brain matter covered the other two while skull fragments buried into the sides of their faces.

The other two gangsters grabbed the sides of their faces screaming in pain. Father Gustavo looked at his hands while getting to his feet. He cried out. "A greedy man stirs up strife, but the one who trusts in the Lord will be enriched!"

He raised his hands with his palms out facing the gangsters. Their heads exploded like the one before them covering the pews in blood. Father Gustavo looked down at the mess at his feet, then down at his clothes with tears falling down his face.

The only thing covered in blood was the cross that hung from his neck. He took that as a sign. A sign from the Lord himself. A sign to carry on God's judgment.

This time the Lord blessed his son with a gift to not only heal his fellow man, but to protect them. He knew from that moment forward there would be no more suffering if he walked the earth to do God's work. Father Gustavo kneeled in front of the cross that stood behind the altar and said a prayer.

"My Lord and savior, please look over me as I carry out your word, and work as your hand. You've blessed me with such a gift that I have cherished it greatly. I see that you have a higher calling for me. Please, send me a sign if I have committed sin for taking these gentlemen's lives. I need to know if you wish for me to proceed in being your judgment. Amen."

Thunder clapped overhead along with a voice carrying into the church from the front door. "Yo Devin, you robbin' the place or….ohhhhh shit." Father Gustavo made the sign of the cross in front of him before thanking God for answering his prayer.

He stood up, then slowly turned around to face the gang member. The young man that had entered his church seeking violence like those before. The gangster panicked while drawing his firearm. His finger clumsily pressed the button that ejected the magazine from his rifle.

Father Gustavo slowly approached the gangster watching the gangster panic. He kneeled to grab the dropped magazine with shaking hands. The gangster fruitlessly struggled to seed it back in his firearm.

The Father put up his open hand, then made a fist with it. The rifle crumbled around the gangster's hand. All while speaking the words of the Lord. "Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly."

The gangster cried in pain on the ground. He did everything in his power to shake off the rifle that had now become one with his hand. The Father put both of his hands up with his palms out facing the crying gangster. He ruptured the gangster's body from the waist up. Few words fell from his lips, "May God have mercy on your soul."

The gangster's lower half laid there on the floor with blood splayed throughout the nave of the church. Father Gustavo stepped over the remains of the gangster's body towards the doors. He was leaving the church to enact God's will.

Father Gustavo looked up at the storm overhead while the rain washed the blood from his face. "May we cry together tonight my Lord," he spoke to the clouds. The Father stepped off in the direction of the new gang's home turf. He walked the streets continuously reciting the "Hail Mary" and the "Our Father" prayers one after another.

A mixture of tears and rain falling down his face as old memories flooded his mind. The memory of his mother and father sitting at the park with their friends while he played on the jungle gym. Him as a child watching everyone run in a panic while his father stood over his lifeless mother. His father shooting back at the car as it drove away.

He thought of the man in black scooping him up and hid behind a tree. All those terrible memories leading to remember watching his father fall to the ground next to his mother like someone had cut the strings off a puppet. They weren't fond memories, but they were memories, nonetheless.

He was standing in front of a five-story apartment building before it had even registered to him. It was the building the People have come to claim for their own. The gate was closed with two gangsters standing outside.

The one on the left took a drag of his blunt, then exhaled in the Father's direction. He took another, then passed it to the other on the opposite side of the gate. "Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you," recited Father Gustavo.

The gangsters laughed in his face. One of which responded scornfully, "Sorry Father man. I don't do the Bible stuff." Father Gustavo stood expressionless and unmoving in the rain.

The other gangster gave his warning, "You best get steppin'. I'm not dealin' with any tweakers tonight." Both gangsters started to approach the Father while brandishing their firearms. Father Gustavo raised his hand above his head as thunder boomed behind him.

The two gangsters looked at each other in confusion as the Father cried out to the sky. "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." The Father swung his arms down, and behind him with those last words. The two gangster's bodies flattened to the ground, then slung across the street leaving a trail of viscera behind them.

The Father put his hand with his palm out in front of him before making a fist. The gate in front of the door crumbled into a metal ball with ease, and gently placed it next to the door before stepping inside. He walked into the lobby of the building leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him. It was an open area with a door in the back that led back outside. Mailboxes covered the right wall with a set of stairs on the furthest end of the room.

Footsteps sounded from the floors above giving him the assumption there were cameras outside. He walked towards the u-shaped staircase in the back of the lobby leaving a trail behind him. He could hear commotion from the top. Father Gustavo called to those above. "Do you gentlemen wish to repent for your sins?"

Silence floated in the air for what felt like an eternity. One of the gangsters above spoke for them all. "Repent this dick! Fuck you magic man!" Laugher followed the insult with the Father responding accordingly.

He placed his foot on the first step as he began to recite a verse. "Then I saw a great white throne and Him who sat upon it, from his presence earth and sky fled away, and no place was found for them."

Someone walked in through the backdoor catching him off guard. He stopped his litany, and calmly raised his hand at the boy in the doorway. His eyes were following bloody footsteps to the Father until they stopped at his bloody feet. Father Gustavo stared into the boy's eyes before nudging his head towards the door. He ran back out the door before the Father continued up the stairs reciting his biblical verses with his hand out in front of him.

"And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged from the things in which were written in the books, according to their deeds." His eye broke the top of the staircase and met the eyes of many looking down on him with their weapons drawn.

They gangsters sent a barrage of bullets in his direction that passed around his body. The rounds riddled the walls around him leaving him unscathed. The Father pushed to the top of the stairs as the gang fell back. They continued firing off rounds pointlessly in his direction.

The Father continued reciting verses towards the muzzle flashes while chaos ensued. "Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. And if anyone's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire."

Father Gustavo made it up to the second floor with his climb ending with the verse. It was an open floor with apartment doors ajar to his left and right. The gang's laughter started turning into panic, and the group was now divided.

Some ran to the upper level to regroup while others retreated for the open door. Only one stood their ground. The apartment doors slammed shut with a wave of the Father's free hand as he began to recite another verse.

"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth," recited the Father. One of the gangsters ran at him swinging his rifle by the barrel. The Father swatted his hand to the side turning the man into nothing covering those around him in a red mist.

"Hand for hand, foot for foot," he continued. Some of the gangster's that couldn't get into their rooms turned back around to shoot at Father Gustavo. He cut the air with his hand from left to right with his palm down. A look of surprise was followed by their heads rolling from their shoulders.

"Burn for burn, wound for wound," said the Father pushing forward. His eyes fell on a gangster cowering in the corner that was converted in blood. The man was praying for God to spare his life. He watched the man beg for forgiveness as his brothers left him to die. To suffer God's wrath alone while they prepared for another fight on the floors above.

Father Gustavo reached out to the man. The man looked at him in confusion with tears running down his face. The broken gangster placed his hand in the Father's as he helped the poor man to his feet. The man cried, "I promise to never hurt another soul if you let me live."

With those few words, Father Gustavo let the man leave. He finished the verse staring up the next flight of stairs, "Stripe for stripe." Sinful chaos came from the floors above.

Father Gustavo made his way past the third floor unchallenged. The floor was the same as the last with none of the gang to be seen. He could feel the eyes staring at him from the peep holes behind closed doors, but they posed no threat. He was not there to judge those who did not bear arms against God. Therefore, he let them be.

He made his way up the fourth floor that was barricaded with furniture at the top. Only heavy breathing could be heard on the other side. The gang was waiting for him. This he was aware of, but no obstacle was too much for God's work. He took the time to take a knee and thank the Lord.

"Thank you, my Lord and savior, for guiding my way. Thank you for choosing me to carry on your word while keeping my body and mind healthy and unscathed. I feel that my work is almost done. Please continue to look over me. Amen," the Father prayed aloud.

Loud enough so those on the other side of the wall could hear in hopes that they would come to a better choice instead of violence. Unfortunately, that was not the choice they made. He stood up while giving them their last warning. "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household."

The Father waited for a response. He received nothing but a muffled cough which was more than enough. He took a deep breath then said, "Very well. And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment!"

Father Gustavo put his hand out in front of him. The barrier in front of him bursted outwards with a concussive force. The blast splintered wood that ripped through the gang behind it. Those closest to the blast were left unrecognizable as the front of their bodies had shards of wood larger than pencils push through their body. The ones standing behind them were riddled with debris.

They fired back blindly due to being disoriented by the invisible force that viciously struck their body. The Father put his hand up to repel the fire like before. He raised his free hand up, then brought it back down. The floor above the remaining gangster's crushed them where they stood with those on the upper floor being mixed in with the rubble.

Nothing stood above the third floor but dust and ruins. Father Gustavo's job was done, or so he thought. A voice cried out from the rubble. "Help me! Please don't leave me here to die!"

He walked over to the voice to see who was begging for their life. It was the leader of the gang who had broken their legs in the fall. The Father crouched down to his level and asked. "Can you tell me why you deserve forgiveness? Why should God let you live?"

The leader of the gang choked on his words. The Father continued, "I didn't think so. You say you are for the people, yet you take life. You say you see no color, yet you paint the streets red. You see blood. All you see is blood."

Father Gustavo placed his hands around the leader's head without touching him, and he began to scream. The man's eyes started bulging from their sockets until they burst onto the Father's chest. Father Gustavo recited his last verse.

"Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

He stood up as the man wailed in pain to gaze at his work. There was no joy, nor was there any satisfaction. Just pain.

A shot rang out followed by a burning sensation in his side. The Father looked down at his stomach to see a hole in his clothing. He felt around at it as it brought him physical pain for the first time that night. The Father pulled his hand away to see blood on his fingers.

Father Gustavo slowly turned around with his arm out. Only to lock eyes with that boy he let go earlier that evening. The boy looked terrified while he held the gun shaking.

A tear fell from the Father's face knowing what was to come next. He closed his hand in front of him crushing the boy where he stood. A quick death for the misguided.

Father Gustavo made his way back down the stairs, and through the apartment building. The walls were decorated with blood as viscera hung the ceiling. He stepped over the bodies that covered the ground reminding himself that this was God's will. The Father stepped out of the apartment building covered in blood.

He put up his hand to keep himself from being blinded by the sun. A voice boomed over a megaphone. "Put your hands up!" Father Gustavo's eyes adjusted to see squads of heavily armed police officers pointing their guns at him. Behind them were many faces looking at the mess he had made.

The officer shouted his commands once again. "I said, put your hands up!" Father Gustavo looked around at God's work while he reached into his back pocket. The cops opened fire on him. Father Gustavo fell to the ground with his hand grasping a small Bible in his back pocket, and a smile on his face knowing he died doing God's work.