Reverend Simon watched as his militia buried Sargent Jackson. The man a former army ranger who came back from two tours of Afghanistan had his throat ripped out; next to him was an anthropomorphic opossum with a gunshot wound.
“This isn’t one of the two things that were in the jail cell,” Simon speaking as he watches it get hung up by the neck. An obvious message to any fury that Vicksburg is not a welcoming place for them.
“We can’t be certain,” a fellow militia speaking; “but it could be Jacob.”
“Jackson’s drunk cousin who betrayed us,” the reverend exhaling; turning around to leave. “Slice its abdomen open,” Simon ordering; “lets its guts swing in the wind along with it.”
Not far Rebecca, a Civet cat fury watched from sitting on a nearby bough of a tree; she had an invisibility spell on as she watched the group. Smirking as she watches the balding man who thinks he is Lord Fauntleroy of all he sees and beholds.
“are you heading home,” Rebbeca watching as he gets in his town car and being driven off. Pulling her cell phone out of thin air; a simple summoning spell that she and all other furies new by instinct, she dials a number and then curses under her breath.
“I forgot, cell service is still down,” Rebecca putting the phone back. Despite most places that are under fury control; Vicksburg Mississippi was still an active sanctuary for humans that are trying to fight back against what they see as their extinction. While this is happening in some parts of the world; the U.S government, now entirely fury, was providing equal rights to both species. The only problem is that those who traditionally fought against the government are refusing to accept the olive branch being offer. All the hate groups that targeted minorities banding together to fight against a species that was superior to them in every way.
“We are stronger, faster and can cast magic,” Rebecca mussing as she watched the militia slowly disperse as they finished burying Jackson and displaying Jacob in gross and undignified way. “Who cares if we can’t stand clothing and no shame in displaying our genitalia. It’s very freeing to be closer to nature,” Rebecca continues to mutter to herself as hops down off the tree and approach the dead opossum fury swinging as if he was lynched. Her runes glow as she watches the noose around his neck dissolve and the corpse falls to the ground.
“They had to slice you open too,” Rebecca muttering as she sees his intestines spilled all over the place. “You may have been with us a short time,” Rebecca speaking as her runes glow, causing Jacob’s body to rapidly decompose. “But at least you helped stop a bad human,” Rebecca nodding as the fury corpse has now become one with the earth. Rebecca turning to the road staring where the town car drove off, “Now to have a talk father.”
********
A couple hours later
Reverend Simon sat in his study sipping his whiskey. He grimaces as the whiskey was scotch and not the Kentucky Bourbon he prefers to imbibe with. He places the drink down as he turns to the fire place. The fire was roaring nicely as he watched the flames dance and flicker in the dark room. The power has yet to be restored to the Mississippi state; the diesel generators he had running up until two hours ago ran out of fuel. With all the gas pumps dry after being squeezed for every drop to support the militia’s vehicles, the reverend had to put up with this inconvenience.
“Hopefuly the right government will restore order,” the reverend sighing as news of the furies in control of Washington and most of the lower forty eight was a major blow to his hope of humanity coming out the winner. Picking up a shoe box he opens the box to view several old photographs. Picture that could never be properly displayed in a family album. These pictures showed his grandfather and father before him dress in Ku Klux Klan regalia. His father becoming a grand wizard; at the time he was initiated into the organization. Meeting his future wife at a clan gathering that formed after a cross burning he performed at a mixed race couples home over the state line in Louisiana. The reverend smiled at those memories as he put the box back and reached for the family album. This album was displayed to family, friends and those of polite company; it was a shiny veneer that covered the rot of his family.
Turning to a page to see the wedding cake he and Judy cut together; his father and her parents watching along with assorted uncles, cousins, most have now passed on. The next photo showing his wife pregnant with their first child; that child eventually being their daughter, as shown in the photo of him holding her at the hospital. While the photo didn’t show, Simon was disappointed that his first born was a girl. He wanted a son badly. The next photo showed his daughter Rebecca with Judy at a park after Sunday School; they were riding the merry go round, both sitting on unicorns as the machine twirled around. The next photo showed his daughter alone at a school play of Romeo & Juliet; she landed the roll of Juliet and was happy. The next photo shows Judy looking weak and frail as she and Rebecca bake cookies for a church function; Simon sighs as this was the last photo of his wife he ever took. She never gave him the son he wanted; the birth of their daughter force Judy to undergo a hysterectomy for a surprise tumor discovered prior to Rebecca’s birth.
Flipping through the pages as Simon grimaces from his Scotch he was sipping, he pauses as he looks at the photo of Rebecca accepting her high school diploma. She made valedictorian got a full ride scholarship to Harvard. It was then that his relationship with Rebecca began to sour. He wanted her to get married after graduation and become a mother; she wanted a life that didn’t revolve around being barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen.
“It’s the Christian way,” Simon pulling the picture out of the album and tossing it into the fire. “I am your father,” he grabs another photo; throwing it into the flames. “Honor thy mother and father as it say in the ten commandments,” Reverend Simon now throwing the entire album into the flames.
He was about to throw his drink when a bright glow could be seen outside. Heading to the window and peeking out through the blind he glares at what he sees. Rushing to the front door with a shotgun in hand he steps out to see three twenty foot crosses on his front lawn all in flames. A typical scare tactic used by the Ku Klux Klan to intimidate their victims; Reverend Simon shouts and screams for someone patrolling his property to put it out.
“Where is everyone,” Simon swearing as he got no response from his screams. Stomping back inside as the crosses are far enough not to risk setting his house on fire, he slams the door and heads back to his study.
“Was tossing the album worth it,” Reverend Simon seeing a familiar woman holding onto the shoe box as she tosses his favorite photos in the flames.
“You dare show your face you Jezebel,” Simon still holding onto his shotgun.
“Is that any way to great your daughter,” Rebecca turning around to see the sad excuse of a man trying to look imposing.
“I have no daughter,” the reverend staring at the girl who looks like his late wife. “She died the day she defied me and left for college.”
“I look pretty lively for someone who is dead,” Rebecca grabbing the glass of scotch and taking a sip; “ah single malt. Your tastes have changed.”
“I prefer bourbon,” Simon glaring before raising his shotgun; “as for the first, I can rectify that.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Rebecca glaring at her old man with the twelve gauge.
“What are you going to do,” Simon smirking; “grab it from me?”
“No,” Rebecca looking stern as she waves a hand and causes the gun to melt in her father’s hand. His screams as the hot metal caused burns were soon silenced as she lets her glamor fade and standing before him as an anthro Civet Cat fury with grey and black spotted fur, her breasts and feminine entrance on full display as like all other furies, she wore no clothes.
“Demon spawn,” Reverend Simon shouting as he tries to make the sign of the cross, but is unable to due to his hands being burnt from the hot metal slug that was once his shotgun..
“Wrong,” Rebecca shouting; “I’m your daughter. And the only reason why I came back to Vicksburg is to tell you that I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a grandfather.”
Reverend Simon was stunned to hear this. One of the furies that Jackson captured claiming to be his daughter, a daughter he refuses to acknowledge due to religious and sexist views.
“I have no daughter demon,” Simon seething as he slowly backs out of his study; only to be stopped by a fury body behind him.
“I knew it would be useless to convince him,” a male fury speaking; Simon being pushed forward as the male fury behind him walks into the dimly lit room. It was Steve, the male Duckbill Platypus Fury that was with Rebecca at the jail cell earlier.
“He deserved at least one chance,” Rebecca sighing as she summoned simple rope binding to tie Reverend Simon’s burnt hands together. “After all it has been ten years since we last spoke,” Rebecca seeing one of the photos her father tossed into fire smoldering; picking it up, she sees it is the photo of her old human self-smiling in her high school graduation photo. “At least one picture of me survived,” Rebecca putting the photo in Reverend Simon’s breast pocket before leading him out of the house.
“Commander Greenclaw,” Rebecca stepping out of the house as she greets the Anthro Iguana Fury standing with several other furies. They somehow managed to use their runes to alter their fur, scales and feathers to denote their military rank as putting on a uniform was something all furies couldn’t do and not be instantly irritated by and ripping the clothing off after afterwards. “How did rounding up the militia go?”
“It was very easy,” the commander nodding; “thanks to the zebra fury we were able to raid several safe houses we had no knowledge of.”
“And you thought me converting him in the jail was a waste of time love,” Rebecca looking at Steve as held Reverend Simon tightly. “Oh commander Greenclaw,” Not giving the platypus fury a chance to speak; “this self-professed king of the local bigots is my father. Also the leader of the Vicksburg Militia.”
“You are not the fruit of my loins,” The Reverend screaming; “you are nothing more than a demon. A wolf in sheep’s clothing! God with set me free and cast you all down!”
“His rhetoric is no different than the right winger we had to kill in Alabama,” The commander shaking his head as he signals a jackal fury to take the raving preacher away. “The guy tried to blow up a school full of fury children with a car bomb,” When that failed he barricaded himself in his home and threatened to blow himself up. So we let him go boom,” the commander grinning as his runes flash, indicating that magic was used to ensure his bomb went off.
“That’s cold,” the platypus fury shaking his head while chuckling at the thought.
“My job is to quell these uprisings by humans who evaded getting this gift,” the commander answering; “not to coddle or hold their hand as I stop them while enforcing the new laws being enacted.”
“Any word when the utilities will be restored,” Rebecca changing the conversation to something less militant.
“Should be in a few days,” the iguana fury commander answering; “the army corps of engineers are tackling that problem as we speak. What will you be doing then if I may ask?”
“This was my home when I was a child,” Rebecca responding; “me and my mate intend to scrub it clean of all the hate and make it a home for our cubs.”
“What will happen to Reverend Simon,” Steve asking as he watched the man struggle to get free as he is dragged towards a military cargo truck.
“Tried for citing an insurrection,” the commander answering; “he will most likely be given a choice for his sentence. Become a fury and serve some prison time, or face execution. Our new madam president doesn’t want to kill every human nor try to wipe them out. She wants us to work side by side with them, but will expect them to obey the laws like before.”
“Easier said than done for some,” Steve slightly chuckling as he sees Simon get tossed into the cargo truck rather forcefully.