The Children of Eternity (5 page)

There were reports that some of the citizens had managed to reach the Holy Place with its promise of sanctuary, but these were unverified reports. Even the member of their group who had managed to enter the city hadn’t stayed very long. It was just too chaotic and dangerous there.

They also heard more about the battle at the place called Ceranda. Both the demonic and angelic forces had taken serious losses there. Yet the demonic forces had virtually unlimited reinforcements available. Had it not been for the humans who had evacuated the wounded angels to the safety of the second level of Heaven, hundreds of thousands of angels might have been captured. This was the place where a few brave humans had fired the first shots of the war, officially drawing humanity into the conflict. They had used a weapon that, interestingly enough, had first been fired in Hell to cover the escape of Serena Davis. They called it a particle rifle, and it had been developed by the great scientist Nikola Tesla. Along with Johannes Kepler and Niels Bohr, Nikola was leading the growing human resistance. It was curious that the human resistance was being led by scientists rather than by military or religious leaders. This brought a slight smile to Christopher’s lips. “Scientists rule,” he murmured.

Christopher listened intently to the reports; he did the math. Apparently his conflict in the forest had not resulted in the first demonic casualties. Actually, he was a bit disappointed.

When Jennifer Davis took the podium, the sparks really began to fly. She wasn’t mincing words. “This has been coming for a long time,” she began. Her voice was that of a fire-and-brimstone preacher, stirring the congregation to action. “We don’t have a choice here, and if you think we do, you’re sadly mistaken. We must get involved. Do you really want to live your eternity in a Heaven where the angels are ruled by Satan?

“We have children here left homeless by the demon attack, children who suffered burns in the fire that consumed their home. They were pushed callously and thoughtlessly to the side amid the demons’ lust for revenge against the angels. The children’s only fault was being in the way. These are the same demons that have tortured your forgotten loved ones in Hell. Do you want these same torturers to be teaching the children of Heaven? Their hands are covered in blood, and make no mistake, it is human blood.”

She stretched out her hands before the people gathered. The symbolism was effective.

“She is quite a talker,” whispered Jerry to Christopher.

Christopher only nodded. Here was another soul touched by Serena Davis. It was curious the number of times the Serena Davis incident came up. It was interwoven into the present conflict at so many levels. It had pushed forward the development of a weapon that was apparently very effective against the demonic invaders. It had brought the members of the human resistance together. It had even touched lives locally—namely, Jennifer Davis. Perhaps he was drawing lines and connecting dots that didn’t really exist, but he didn’t think so.

“It was the Father’s wish that we remain unaware of the plight of our lost loved ones,” she continued. “Indeed, we were left unaware of even their existence. Imagine suffering throughout all of eternity, knowing full well that not so much as one person is aware of your plight or even your existence. Imagine being forgotten even by your loved ones. But that is their fate, brothers and sisters.

“The Father desired that we should not grieve over those whom we are powerless to help. But I tell you this: there are times when I wish we could all remember those lost to us in Hell, remember them so that the crimes of these invaders should sink deep into our consciousness.”

There was a long pause. Jennifer’s piercing eyes scanned a room full of people who had her full attention.

“Several years ago, after a most traumatic incident that raised my awareness to the plight of those lost in the fires of Hell, I made the conscious decision to remember all of my lost loved ones. I went to the Father, and the Father honored my request.

“Yes, I grieve for them now, but I live in this world of ours with my eyes fully open. I understand the precious gift that the Father has given us. I look upon the lost and say, ‘There but for the grace of God am I.’ There but for the sacrifice of Jesus go all of us. The anguish of Hell is separation from God, but the torments of Hell are the deeds of its foulest inhabitants. Do you really think that Satan is going to keep his word to us?”

“He will,” came a voice from the back of the church.

All eyes turned to see a demon in a long, black robe at the door, his bat-like wings folded tightly behind him. Yet this being did not take on the appearance of a pale old man, but rather that of a dark-haired, clean-shaven man who appeared to be no more than 35 years of age. He stepped in, flanked by two others whose appearance was not unlike his. All in all, they were quite handsome beings in every respect, from their well-groomed hair to their flawless skin. Were it not for his wings, he could easily have passed as human.

“I am sorry to interrupt your service,” continued the demon, “and I am sorry that we have disrupted your lives; however, it was necessary.” His eyes scanned the congregation thoroughly before he continued. “I am Lieutenant Kragow, commander of this cohort. I have come to tell you that you are no longer limited to your homes. You are free to come and go as you please.

“Our concern was for your safety. We couldn’t have a child of God wandering unknowingly into the line of fire in a battle. However, this is no longer a war zone. The angels of Michael and Gabriel have fled. Most of us will be rejoining our legion; only a few will remain. They will remain to assure your safety. I do caution you, however, to make no attempt to visit the City of Zion during the next few days. There are still pockets of resistance there as well as unstable and crumbling buildings. Do this for your own safety. I assure you, all will be rebuilt, all set right.”

The unexpected visitation had caught all by surprise, to say nothing of the eloquence of this demon commander’s speech. It was, in the end, Jennifer who responded.

“For thousands of years, your master has been the sworn enemy of all humanity. Now, suddenly he wants to be the ruler of the very race whose job it is to safeguard us. Back where I come from we have a saying about that. We call it ‘the fox guarding the chicken coop.’”

That brought a few chuckles from members of the congregation, here and there. Mostly it brought a hushed silence.

For a moment it seemed as if the demon lieutenant did not seem to understand the reference. Then he responded. “We are not foxes, and you are not chickens. During those thousands of years you speak of, it was us and our testing of humanity that separated the goats from the sheep. I hope that you will forgive me, but I overheard your previous comments about our activities in Hell. I wish to respond.

“You find what we did to the humans sent there to be reprehensible. That is your right. But allow me to ask you this: Would you prefer to have the likes of Genghis Khan or Adolph Hitler here in your midst? What would their presence and that of those like them do to the environment of Heaven? Like it or not, we serve a useful purpose in the history of humanity. If you prefer an analogy, so be it. The Father separates the wheat from the chaff, and we in turn burn that chaff. When this war is won, the only thing that will change is that the angels of Michael and Gabriel will be compelled to share the burden that we have shouldered alone for so long. Those that refuse to do this task are not worthy of the name ‘servant of God.’ Their fate shall be to become chaff.”

“A very noble speech,” retorted Jennifer, “but I know better. If you were listening to what I said, then you must know that I am aware of exactly what goes on in Hell. I have loved ones there even today, my brother for one. Yes, I remember my loved ones sentenced to that realm, and I have watched what you do to them. To confine them is one thing, but you haven’t stopped there. You hurt them and go on hurting them. What you do is zealous and excessive. You drive them to madness with your torments, and you enjoy it; indeed, your master revels in it, creating ever more elaborate methods of eternal punishment.

“You started with pits of boiling filth and oceans of flames, but you didn’t stop there. Your methods evolved into cities of altars where helpless humans are eaten alive by birds of prey—eaten to the bones—only to regenerate and have the whole ordeal repeated again and again. You created great steam-driven engines of torment where the shackled victims were randomly impaled on spikes, burned with acid, and broiled in molten metal. According to you, this was all done in the name of justice?”

“Yes, it was done in the name of justice,” confirmed the demon. “Know this, the Father sent these people to us for a reason. He knew what we would do to them, but He sent them nonetheless. He knew that we would do our job. Out of love for you, His true children, He wiped these people from your memory. He did it for a reason, so that you would not grieve for them. It was all part of His divine plan. I tell you, they are unworthy of your grief. But you chose to ignore His plan; you chose to remember them. Now you reap the harvest of your foolish decision, of your disobedience. To you this has become a personal vendetta when it should not be.”

Jennifer replied, “I watched my own daughter-in-law suffer in your Sea of Fire. I watched my own brother burn in the eternal flames of a fire pit; so yes, to me this is personal. I know your kind only too well. You speak of doing your job. And what job is that? There is a difference between the executioner and the torturer, sir, and you and your kind are the latter. You do not belong here any more than Genghis Khan or Adolph Hitler. Hell is your home, and I will not rest until you are once more cast out of Heaven and back to that place where you belong.”

A growing applause arose from the congregation. Further debate would have been futile. The demon lieutenant and his two escorts departed. For several minutes the congregation continued in their cheers of defiance. Jennifer finally quieted the masses.

“There you have it, my brothers and sisters,” she began. “That is what we are dealing with. They will mix some truth with their lies, but they are still lies. I’ve opened the books in the Hall of Records that no one else wishes to see, the black books. I’ve witnessed firsthand their contents, and I tell you this—Satan’s minions are master torturers. For the sake of the children, I will not subject this assembly to any further description of what I have seen in those pages. I have already said more than I should have, and I ask your forgiveness for that. But the leopard cannot change his spots and neither can the minions of Satan. Hell is their home, not Heaven. We must stand with the angels, for they have stood with us more times than we can possibly know.”

The congregation was in agreement: they needed to stand with the angels in their struggle—but how? What could they do against the fiery swords of the demon armies? It seemed a futile struggle. In the end, committees were established to study the situation and make recommendations. They all agreed to meet again in three days.

As Christopher left the church with the Andersons, he had become even more determined to get into this fight. But what could he do? Taking down two demons was one thing, but he was dealing with an entire demon army of over 100 million. Even dealing with the two this afternoon had left him feeling weak. Yes, it had to be the power of God acting through him, but why him? Why not someone older and wiser?

“It’s not by might, not by power, but by My Spirit, sayeth the Lord,” he murmured. Surely there had to be others who could do what he had done. As he faded off to sleep that night he prayed for guidance. He had discovered an incredible gift, yet he still was unsure how to use it.

Jerry stared intently at the metal lure glistening in the filtered sunlight of the forest. He had been doing so for nearly five minutes.

“Picture it rising,” insisted Christopher. “Know that it can be moved. Be sure that you can do it…don’t doubt.”

Jerry’s face took on an even more determined scowl, yet nothing happened. A moment later he turned away. “I can’t.”

“You can’t because you believe you can’t,” replied Christopher. “As long as you believe you can’t, you never will.”

Jerry’s face took on a puzzled aspect. “Say what?”

“What,” replied Christopher.

“No, I didn’t mean for you to say what,” said Jerry, frustration in his voice. He sat down on a nearby boulder and stared out at the waters of the stream. “Why do you have to take everything so literally?”

“My upbringing, I suppose,” said Christopher.

“Sometimes I just don’t understand you,” said Jerry, whose gaze hadn’t moved from the water. “Just a couple of days ago things seemed so simple. I had my eternity all planned out. I’d go fishing with my dad, walk in the woods, go talk to God in the Holy Place…those kinds of things. My life was perfect. Then yesterday had to come. This is Heaven, not Earth. It isn’t supposed to be like this.”