Chapter Sixty Two
The old man watched with growing frustration. I know the darkness within me, the power so dark…, too dark to begin to calculate, moving through the generations until now, it abides in me as power so ancient…, and yet, am I the end of the chain?
Years ago this wouldn’t happen. My dark legions were strong, hiding people from the Light. Since ancient times I’ve been a thorn in the side of Christians, seeking to destroy the early church and each one of faith…, until now?
My thorn’s no longer sharp enough to prick against these Christians. The prayers, oh the prayers, they strike against me, and now… My time here is done. See…, already the Light of His Mighty angel grows stronger, waiting to bid me gone.
Isn’t that Chris, the one who worked for me, and Dave too? They held such promise for darkness. My Brodine is no match for the Light either, or those prayers. And yet, I will try one last time…, to snuff out the Light, before I go to my torment.
The old man shuffled out to his battered pickup. With shake and groan it started. The old man patted the filthy torn dash. “You and I. We’ve done a lot of mischief together. Now you sound as bad as I. I think our journey is about to end.”
Looking down he checked connections for the massive truck bomb hidden there. A truck bomb large enough to blow out a large building…, or kill a large crowd. You will be my parting shot. Something they won’t expect. If this new kid, Simon, can’t finish the job, then we will.
Other pools of darkness across the country reeled back in like manner, feeling the dawn of a new time, pushed and promoted by His Light showing through hundreds of thousands of screens watching the Saturday Night Special Report from the little white church on the bluff.
The nation witnessed testimony after testimony, with song and His Word. Darkness witnessed a growing shield of faith, spreading out for miles over the little white church on the bluff, then over other praying groups of Christians like a growing, living symbol of what was to come…