Rise of the Beast (74 page)

Yet even as Molock contemplated his next move, the ring in research building one filled once more with glowing mists. From its depths stepped a dark angel, then another and another. After a minute, 12 of the dark beings and 300 ACs gathered before the ring. The one in the lead pulled a communications device from his belt.

“This is Abaddon calling rescue team. Speak to me.”

“Abaddon, I’m sure glad to hear your voice,” was the reply. “This is Tom Carson.”

It took but a few minutes for Tom to apprise Abaddon of the situation. The rescue mission had succeeded. They had Serena and the rest, but the rescue team had become trapped. They had been forced to return by some subterranean
route. They were too far underground for him to communicate with them. Still, he knew that they were sick, and their condition was growing worse by the minute. Up until now he seemed to have fared better than the rest, though he could not explain why, nor did he know how long that would last.

As Abaddon turned from the radio his heart was filled with uncertainty. “Our mission just became considerably more complicated,” he lamented. “It will not be the quick round trip I had hoped it would be.”

“So, what shall we do?” asked Lenar.

“We wait,” replied Abaddon. “We wait until we are in contact with Bedillia and the others once more. Until then, we guard this ring.” Adaddon’s force took up defensive positions.

“It’s official. The main body of Comet Florence is going to impact the moon in a glancing blow somewhere in the Sea of Serenity,” announced Dr. Mayfield. “This impact will occur just three hours after the remnants of Florence C strike Earth.”

The scientists within the lecture hall had been prepared for this news; still, it hit them hard. Somehow, they’d been hoping for a miracle. No one knew what the implications of such a lunar impact would be. The moon hadn’t experienced an impact event of this magnitude since the creation of the crater Tycho a hundred million years ago. How would it affect Earth? Would the Earth be pelted by still more space debris, this time from the moon? They were about to find out.

“At least Florence B will miss us by better than a thousand kilometers,” continued Mayfield. “Still we’ve already lost three geostationary satellites to the bombardment of smaller particles, and we will lose more, perhaps all. The nuclear barrage orchestrated by the military is our planet’s last line of defense.”

“I still fear that mission is doomed to failure,” said Sam Florence. “Those missiles are going to have to run a gauntlet of millions of high speed projectiles traveling along with the larger comet fragments. I’m afraid all we’ll manage to do is make matters worse.”

“You’d prefer we did nothing?” asked Mayfield.

“I don’t know,” admitted Sam. “I hope you’re right, I really do.”

“We’re a bit over nine hours to the first launch,” noted Mayfield, “about ten hour after that, I suppose we’ll know.”

As Sam Florence left the meeting, he was indeed troubled. So much was happening so fast. He’d been trying to get in contact with Chris and Serena for days, but had been unable. Then two days ago they were no shows at the big crusade in St. Louis. Their abandoned RV had been discovered along the shoulder of a back road in central Illinois. Since then an exhaustive search for the popular evangelists had turned up nothing. It was as if they had fallen off the face of the Earth.

Sam had a real bad feeling about it all. There were a lot of people out there praying for their safe return. They had given so many downtrodden and frightened souls new hope. But would all of their prayers be enough? Perhaps by tomorrow, hope, like the blue sky overhead, would vanish into the darkness of an unprecedented global catastrophe. He prayed that he was wrong.

It was shortly after midnight local time when the last of Satan’s new troops stepped through the ring on the rocky hill at the south. Some took the form of heavily armed humans. Most of these were demon-possessed humans or demons who had gained human bodies through the rite of union. Others were winged demons in physical form.

Satan hadn’t been seen since he had headed off to the infirmary an hour ago, and for the moment, Governor Molock was calling the shots. Molock made no claims of being a military leader. That honor had always fallen to General Krell. Still, he prided himself on having a clear and methodical mind. He wouldn’t approach this operation like a bull in a china shop, sending the troops out into the jungle and firing at whatever moved. That might be the master’s way, but it wasn’t his. He would gather the facts first.

“My lord Molock, we have cleared the tunnel below the chapel of rubble,” reported one of his lieutenants, a very human-appearing warrior. “But we have found no sign of Serena or those who rescued her. Those familiar with that area tell me that there are natural caves under the entire island. Some lead to other exits along the shoreline. They have to have followed one of those natural tunnels. I’ve dispatched warriors to search the tunnels for them.”

“Very good,” said Molock. “Do we know who they are, these rescuers?”

“No, my lord,” replied the warrior. “All of those who have gotten close enough to identify them have perished. But, from their weapons, we know that they are not local. They are either saints from Heaven or warriors from the place called Refuge, in Hell.”

“That’s a thought,” noted Molock. “I find it far more likely that they would be Abaddon’s people rather than Kepler’s. But how would they get here? Humans in Hell are unable to leave Outer Darkness in physical form.”

“Perhaps that has changed,” suggested the lieutenant. “They are quite resourceful.”

“They are,” confirmed Molock. “Here is what I would have you do; send a team of eight up to the building-housing ring. Select them personally. They are to exercise extreme caution. We don’t know who or how many hostiles we are dealing with. I don’t wish to lose still more of our people in a foolish expedition. They are to scout out the land, attach an explosive device to the ring, detonate it, and return.”

“It shall be as you command,” said the lieutenant, bowing slightly.

Molock took a pair of binoculars and scanned the area around building one carefully. He didn’t see anyone. He hoped that was an indication that they were dealing with a relatively small force and not a well-hidden, larger one.

Within ten minutes, the lieutenant was leading an all demon force toward building one, spreading out across the jungle rather than following the road. Little did he realize that Abaddon had adopted a similar strategy and had scattered his limited forces into a defense perimeter surrounding the building and their only easily accessible route back.

The dark angel Lenar had moved out a bit further from the building than most of his fellows. He sat crouched among some bushes scanning the dimly moonlit scene. It was nearly two in the morning, and he was getting anxious to pull out. In but another seven hours, he would be accompanying a force of over three million ACs that would stream out of the ring in Lusan’s headquarters in Paris. In reality, he was very much looking forward to it.

He was actually amazed that the growing army of Satan’s minions down there in the valley had not made their way back up here. Perhaps he and the team would get out of here without a fight. Now wouldn’t that be just too bad?

His sensitive hearing detected the sound of soft footfalls on leaves. He directed his attention toward the growing sound. He pulled out his radio. “We have company,” he whispered, “coming up through the jungle.”

Then he saw them, two winged demons. He drew his sword. It was show time.

They saw him just seconds before he was upon them. The demon in the lead barely had time to raise his sword before the dark angel’s sword swept toward him. The blades clashed, and the force of that clash threw him to the ground.

Lenar immediately went for the second demon. The crossing of their power endowed swords again and again filled the jungle with flashes of illumination.

Lenar kicked the first demon back to the ground even as he thrust his sword at the second. His agility and strength were superhuman. He was a being created by the Father for combat; these demons were not. Though he was outnumbered two to one, it was he that was on the offensive.

The first demon screamed in a shrill voice as Lenar’s sword was thrust into his side through an opening in the unseen armor beneath his cloak. At least it was unseen to the human eye, but Lenar knew exactly where to strike. Then he withdrew the sword again and swung it with unbelievable speed, cutting across the demon’s throat. His body and head parted company. Now Lenar could concentrate on his one remaining adversary; but alas, he had already fled into the jungle.

“Coward,” cursed Lenar, though he doubted that the demon took note of his insult.

It was but a moment later that two other dark angels arrived to offer assistance. The presence of the decapitated demon told them that they had missed out on the fight.

“Rank amateurs,” said Lenar, kicking the disembodied head to one side. “You would think that, after several thousand years, their fighting skills would have improved at least a little bit.”

“And there won’t be any rapid regenerating for the demons here, not on Earth,” noted another dark angel. “It gives us a distinct advantage.”

“Almost too easy,” noted the other.

“Let us make sure that they don’t attempt to flank us,” said Lenar. “We need
to protect that ring until the humans reach us.” “If they reach us,” said another.

“Think positively,” urged Lenar. “I know Bedillia well. She will bring those captives out.”

The dark angels spread out once more, leaving Lenar alone with his thoughts. He suspected that the demons would try a second attack, perhaps from the air. But as the minutes passed, nothing was happening.

An hour had passed when the sky was lit in amber luminance as a fireball hurtled overhead. It struck the forest near the building housing the ring. Then came another, and another. Satan’s forces were trying a different approach, an aerial bombardment.

“I should have anticipated this,” Lenar said, as he went once more for his radio. “My friends, we must take wings and stop them,” he cried.

Seconds later, Lenar had taken flight. From the air he could see the others bursting forth from the forest, and ahead of him, an armada of demons, 50 or more of them, preparing to launch fireballs.

Another fireball roared past Lenar to his left. He spun around and drew his sword. From its tip a beam of bright blue light erupted. It was like a bolt of lightning. It hit the fireball and detonated it in midair. Then Lenar turned his sword toward the gathered demons. He discharged a second bolt, narrowly missing one of his adversaries. He fired again, this time hitting his mark. The demon tumbled toward the forest below.

Lenar was astonished. He had fired three lightning bolts in rapid succession. Normally he could summon up only one or two of these potent weapons without resting. He should have been exhausted, but he wasn’t. Then he realized why. He and his fellows had been restored to God’s grace. Now they were able to pull strength from the vast well of power that was God’s Holy Spirit. He felt like he might be able to throw several more bolts before expending his strength. It was a source of strength that only they possessed. Still, they were badly outnumbered.