BUTTONS

Buttons by A. Rowan

It was just as the beautiful voice on the other end of the phone said it would be. Martin, single, fifty-two years old and living with his invalid mother took one last look at the people enjoying their Saturday afternoon. To the east, he smiled at a man playing soccer with a small boy. To the north, he saw a pair of teens necking under a tree. To the west, dozens of families sitting on blankets enjoying the afternoon sun. The Golden Gate Bridge served as an impressive backdrop. Martin’s first impulse was to pull out his phone, take a snapshot of the bridge. But he contained that impulse.

He was at the park for a reason.  

He opened the van door, stepped out, then went to the back and carefully retrieved a small wood box. Then he slammed the door back shut and made his way to a small bench just off the sidewalk. He sat down, looked around again. Martin loved people, but people didn’t love Martin. Of course, that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He’d learned a long time ago; all that matters is what God thinks of him.

And now, he was doing God’s work.

He heard a loud laugh that brought him out of his thoughts. It was the man playing soccer with his son. The boy apparently got one past him. Martin smiled, then he raised up the box in front of him. There were four buttons across the top.

Which one did she say to push first?

Oh, yeah, left to right, left to right.

Holding the box with one hand, he hovered his index finger over the first button on the left side. He closed his eyes and prayed the Lord’s Prayer. When he opened his eyes again, he pressed the button.

There was a loud bang, like a thousand cannons. The man playing soccer with his son didn’t seem to hear it. He was still laughing and kicking the ball in circles, making sure the boy couldn’t get it. The boy shouted, “That’s not fair!”. The man laughed.

Then his flesh slid off, unzipping from the head down. He appeared to Martin that he ran right out of his own skin. The little boy screamed, but it was hard for Martin to hear him over the cries coming from everywhere else.

The hard part’s getting started.

He hovered his finger over the second button, took a quick glance at the little boy crying over his father’s body, then pressed. The boy’s eyes went white. His arms pulled behind him by some unknown force. Then he bent backward in an unnatural angle, head aimed at the sky. He opened his mouth and everything that was in him came out. Martin turned in disgust, but couldn’t get away from the horror because it was happening all over the park. People everywhere he looked were puking their guts out.

He raised the box again, dangled a shaky finger over the third button, pressed the third button.

A great wave of energy swept across the landscape, and half the people it touched turned on the others, ripping and tearing and eating flesh from their bodies.

Husbands ate their wives.

Mothers ate their children.

Siblings feasted on each other.

For any rational person, just the screams would be too much. But Martin wasn’t rational. He didn’t have to be. He had God on his side. He was doing the good lord’s work. He smiled at that thought, just as an old woman chased a young man and tackled him to the ground not fifteen feet away from where Martin was sitting. As his neck was being eaten, the young man reached out to Martin with one, bloody hand. Martin Smiled, Raised the box, hovered his finger over the fourth and final button.

Then his phone rang.

Martin let out a deep sigh, placed the box back on the bench beside him, took out his cell phone.

“Hello,” Martin said.

“Hi Daddy!” It was Karen, his daughter. “Are we still going out for ice-cream later?”

“Oh – umm-yes,” Martin said.  “Of course, sweetheart. Daddy will be there.”

“Okay, daddy,” Karen said. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but mommy told me you would probably not show up like always. so, I called to make sure you’re still coming.”

“Yes, baby,” Martin said, his voice cracking. And you can tell your mama to…”

“What’s that, daddy?”

“Never mind, sweetheart. Just know your daddy loves you, and we are going out for ice cream tonight.”

“I love you too, daddy, bye!” The phone disconnected as another loud scream rang out, bringing Martin back to the situation at hand.

He had to finish his mission.

He hovered his finger over the fourth button, closed his eyes, and thought of how wonderful paradise was going to be.

“And hell followed with me,” he said.

He pressed the button.

There was a loud explosion. He turned his eyes to the city and saw it glow in the twilight as a million human torches screamed in unison. A burning woman grabbed him from behind, threw him to the ground. Martin scrambled away from her before she could infect him with her wickedness. He sat Indian-style in the grass watching the woman burn down to ash. When her remains began blowing away with the light ocean breeze, he pulled himself back to his feet and returned to the van.

He was still watching the glorious day coming to an end when his phone notification sounded.  

It was a message from New Messiah.

Is it done?Yes, Martin responded. Final button pushed. End in process.

Good job, came the response. Your father is proud. I’m sending you coordinates for the location in Los Angeles. Will you be there tomorrow?

A burned-up face slammed into the van’s passenger-side window, then slid down, leaving a streak of blood and soot.

Martin smiled.

I’ll be there with bells on, he replied. Tell the big man I got this.

The End