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Fatal Reality

By Jonathan Wakefield

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April 12, 2016

Daniel Vats had never killed anyone, but he could hardly wait to start. And finish. It would play out before anyone in America—or the world—knew what to think.

Reality would be redefined.

Daniel attacked the Wing Chun wooden dummy with his hands and feet, thinking of them as swords. He managed most of the effort with his hips, freeing his limbs to strike the pegs with speed and power. The slapping sound of bone impacting wood reverberated across his personal workout room.

After a few more attacks, he shifted to the adjacent Martialarm dummy attached to the wall, pummeling its padding with straight punches. Pup! Pup! Pup! A computer monitor above projected rapid-fire images of his face, one freeze-frame for each blow to the pad.

He grunted and thrust a fist in a final strike. He took a moment to steady his breathing, then backed away and considered the last picture the camera had snapped. Gazing into his own damaged eyes, a tingling crept across his skin.

A grin spread across his face. If he could scare even himself, wait until Kyle Borders saw him.

Daniel switched his gaze from that monitor to the one next to it, which featured the made-up image of Kyle leaning into an interview with Missy McClure, hostess of Faith Movers. From his seat on the leather couch, he answered her questions with the precision of a trained professional—someone so used to spouting rehearsed lines, he probably didn’t even know who he was anymore. Only who he wanted to be.

Missy responded well to him, nodding, smiling, giggling at his jokes. Daniel felt as if he were watching a PG-rated version of a reality dating show, except the contestants were middle-aged, not in their early twenties.

Why was everyone so fooled by this phony?

Daniel shook his head. Scrape the makeup off those scruffy cheeks, rip the strategically tousled hair out by the roots, and turn those blue eyes of arrogance into stormy oceans of terror—then everyone would see the real Kyle Borders.

Soon.

A thrill shot through Daniel’s chest. He grabbed for the Glock 17 on the nearby workout bench and curled his fingers into the grip.

“I need to ask you about your image,” Missy said.

Daniel hesitated.

“You’ve taken a lot of heat in the Christian community for your decision to go on a reality show with a payoff of 25 million. They say it represents everything wrong with the celebrity culture of modern American evangelicalism. How do you respond to that?”

Daniel eased away from the gun and turned his attention to the show in time to see Kyle unleash a cocky grin. Slowly, Daniel raised a hand and drew his fingernails across his cheeks. They glided smoothly through the film of sweat covering his face.

“As always,” Missy said, “you seem to welcome controversy.”

Still grinning, Kyle spread his hands. “Controversy’s an opportunity. It generates interest. The execs are expecting at least 70 million people to tune in, and that’s only America. The show’s going to be broadcast across the entire world. How can I not hop at that chance?”

“For evangelism? Or publicity?”

“They go together. More publicity means more people willing to hear my message. And if I really believe in the gospel, then I should be telling everyone I can about it.”

Daniel’s fingers tightened into a claw around his face, and his nails began to dig past the sweat and into his skin.

“Many believers before you have taken the same approach on reality shows,” Missy said, “but it backfired.”

“Right. They went in hoping to reach a big audience for Christ, but then the networks take the raw footage and squeeze it through the editing process like sausage, taking out all the real meat. And they seem to go out of their way to make Christians look like idiots and hypocrites.”

Daniel harrumphed. Sure, Kyle, it’s the networks’ fault.

“How will this be any different?” Missy said.

“The beauty of this show is they’re running it on a continuous live feed. One day, no editing. My faith will be on the line for everyone to see as it is for real.”

Missy nodded. “Are you planning to win?”

“That’s up to God, but I do plan to compete with all that’s in me. People may think because I’m a Christian they’re going to see some guy who’s too nice or wimpy to win. But the truth is, they’re going to see a fierce competitor.”

She rotated her head sideways. “Is that really the attitude you should have?”

“God doesn’t put us here to try to lose the races he’s given us. We glorify him by doing our best at whatever he calls us to. What should separate me from the other contestants is how I run the race and treat people. That will be my message about God. And if I win…” He shrugged. “I’ll give the money to my favorite pro-life organizations.”

Missy shifted in her chair, straightening her posture. “Speaking of the life issue, do you believe death’s a real possibility on the show?”

Kyle adopted a wide smirk, which Daniel balanced out with a scowl.

“That’s what the execs tell me,” Kyle said.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m ready to die. Aren’t you?”

“I mean, is it at all hypocritical for someone who’s a champion of protecting life to be so flippant about his own?”

“I’m merely going where God calls me. He’s putting me in this game for a reason.”

“How do you know—”

“He’s got something big planned for that day, I can feel it.” Kyle peered directly into the camera. At Daniel. “And the whole world will see it.”

Daniel clawed at his face with both hands, scratching pain into it. Someone’s got something planned, all right, but it isn’t God. At least, not your God. His fingernails crawled toward his eyes. They dug deeper into his skin until his vision blurred and a tear spilled down his cheek.

No—not a tear. Just some sweat.

A blast of heat swept through his body, and he spun toward his Glock again. He snatched it up and aligned the sights on the monitor.

“My success,” Kyle said, “isn’t about winning the race. It’s about winning souls for the Kingdom. This is a reality show, and I plan to be real. I—”

Daniel squeezed the trigger and shattered Kyle’s glass image.

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