The Tale of Junazahite: Dance with the Devil

Chapter Five: The Universe Itself

"Junazahite has a special bond with God. Neither is Junazahite God's son nor his prophet. Humans cannot comprehend Junazahite's true form. He is the infinity, and we are not."

John's first memory of his existence was when he was five. He was chasing his nine-year-old sister, playing in their perfect house. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, and cautionary words from Monia reminded them to be careful, while David was at work. However, if John hadn't been adopted, he would have worried about hit and water since he was a kid. He couldn't have worn colorful clothes. He would have been a shadow seeker instead of lying under a brand-new A/C. Maybe because John forgot to be grateful, God was punishing him. Maybe it was the poor people's wrath. Or maybe he was just being unlucky.

He would go live in the fourth area if it made Joan alive again. Worrying about sweating, clean water, food, and sunlight was worth it if the Monsires were healthy and safe once again.

The three of them, John, Reymond, and Jhina, were in front of the house. Suddenly, some men in beige robes ran towards them.

"Don't worry," Jhina said as quickly as possible, her skin red and sweaty. "They're my men."

John knocked hard on the door, ignoring them. His keys were in his other clothes in the absorber's locker room. It took a while, but finally, David opened the door.

"Oh, God!" he cried, frustrated, hugging his son. "I heard the radio. There was a terrorist attack, right? I'm glad you're safe. Your mom..."

"That wasn't a terrorist attack!" Jhina interrupted impatiently. "There's no time. The government is after your son, sir! We need to go!"

David was stunned, looking pale, and his mouth opened.

"She's a fadayist," John said, hoping that the information would help. "Let us in!"

He Jumped into the hall, calling for his mother.

"What in Junazahite's name is happening?"

"Your son might be Junazahite," Reymond said enthusiastically, breathing heavily.

John didn't wait to see his drunk father's reaction. He stepped into the bedroom and saw Monia. Her bandage was a little bit red. John sat on the bed and shook her arm gently. He didn't want to scare her.

"W-What is it?" Monia mumbled with a broken voice.

"Mom, we have to go," John said calmly. He couldn't wait to spill the tea, and continued, "I might be Junazahite, Mom. I'm not joking! I may be able to bring back Joan!"

He hid Joan's head under the gray sheet that he had brought with him from the morgue. It was brutal for a mother to see her dead child's head ... again.

"You're what?" Monia jumped, making her wounds bleed slightly.

"We need to go. The government is after us. I'll explain it to you later."

Monia, with all the pain she had, smiled, her eyes full of tears.

"You're really Junazahite? My son!? Oh! Thank God!"

She hugged John as tight as she could. She was filled with so much passion, so much life. The opportunity to reunite with her daughter had been granted, and she couldn't be more grateful.

"I can see my little Joan again, right?" Monia asked hopefully.

"I'll try my best. Now, come on. We need to run away."

Jhina jumped into the room, breathing fast, alarmed.

"They are here!" she shouted.

It was just three words. John felt frozen inside, not knowing what to do. Fear coursed through his veins. Jhina grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Both John and Monia got to their feet, ready to run. The sound of gunshots echoed everywhere. Jhina pushed them back and leaned against the wall, ready to shoot.