Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 92

“Jesusfuckingchrist! I can’t see!” Boyd Braxton hollered, raising his arms to stave off the green light beam. “I can’t see a damn—”

The truck swerved. Jerking to the right. Then the left. A few seconds later, it began to lose speed.

“Put your foot on the gas pedal!” Stan yelled over the top of his gunnery sergeant’s foul-mouthed screams. “We must fulfill the prophecy! Do not give in to your fears!”

Averting his head from the burning light, Stan leaned over the top of his gunny and grabbed the steering wheel, knowing that fear was the tool of the devil. Fear was what he’d felt that long-ago night in Beirut. When his best friend, his comrades, his CO were ripped to shreds by an Islamist’s bomb. When he stood shaking in the bomb’s aftermath, snot driveling from his nose, piss puddling at his feet. Afraid to grab his weapon and take action. Afraid to do anything other than drop to his knees and beg God’s mercy.

That was when the angels came to him. Gabriel and Michael. The same two angels who adorned the lid of the Ark. They took his fear from him, asking only that he take up the Lord’s fight.

And every day since, he had done just that.

This day would be no different.

For he knew no fear.

He had complete and certain faith in the sanctity of his mission.

The same faith that had led Abraham and Moses in their darkest hour. The same faith that had compelled David to face his mighty nemesis Goliath.

You come at me with a sword and spear. I come to you in the name of the Lord!

Those were words to live by. Words to die by.

“The battle for the Temple will soon be upon us! Praise be to the Lord!” he joyfully shouted, retaking control of the truck, steering it straight toward the green beam of light.