“I see a doomed enemy army. And I see a new day dawning,” said Sandy.
“All I see is our home engulfed in flames—the cottage, the barn, and the mansion,” said Henry.
The Hyundai Spartan slowed. “Reverse engines,” said Tom. And the huge vessel slowly glided to a stop. The details of the clifftop were clear. One hundred and fourteen human figures were silhouetted against the raging fires. They stood glaring out at the tanker.
“I see a strange blue star way, way up there,” said Henry.
“Yes,” said Sandy. “That blue star is the Sword of the Lord. While we were battling the enemy, Michael has been brandishing it up there. Yahweh has transformed this powerful spiritual weapon into its physical form—no telling what it’s made of—but now it has natural properties, weight, and shape. The Sword has been increasing in size over the past six hours.
“As the hilt and blade grew larger, more angels had to join Michael to help bear its weight. That’s why we didn’t have the whole angelic platoon on the battlefield. After their battle with the demons over Salem, the heavenly warriors were assigned to Michael as sword bearers. And the demons from Salem joined Botis.”
“How many of them are hanging on to that thing?” said Henry.
“Let’s see,” said Sandy. “Hard to tell. They’re like a flock of butterflies.”
“Forty,” said Gabriella. “The hilt is a hundred feet long, the blade is over three hundred.”
“Did you notice that the demons left the air over Cielavista when Carlos was making his last stand in the fortress?” Gabriella continued. “Botis got sick of shuttling between the ground war and the sky war so he left Frances’ body and led his entire gang of filthy spirits to fight Michael. Michael and his team took one massive stroke with the Sword of the Lord through Botis’ charging swarm and that was all they could take. Wounded and sniveling, the cowardly demons flew back to hell where they belong.”
“That’s one powerful, supernatural weapon,” said Henry.
Sandy asked Tom if she could use the ship’s public address system. He handed her the handset and punched three buttons on the panel. “Talk.”
“Hello, everyone, this is Sandy. God bless you. I hope you have found your clothes and your quarters comfortable. The crew will be serving us breakfast in about a half hour. I want you all to go out on the foredeck so you can witness what God has planned. Stay back against the bridge structure. There will be a big wave coming our way and it will cause this tanker rock. You need to watch the shoreline.”
From the command tower, Sandy could see her warriors assemble on the foredeck below them. The sea between the Spartan and Cielavista was moonlight silver. Several Task Force Saber warriors pointed up at the shimmering blue star. They all looked up. The massive sword descended steadily down and held it’s altitude for a moment over the brilliant smile of the half-moon.
Sandy, Henry, and the crew in the tower watched. Sandy turned to Gabriella, still seated in the captain’s chair. Gabriella nodded.
The bright green digits on the 24-hour clock just under the tower’s ceiling read 23:59:30.
“Dear family, Gabriella is here in the tower. She is perfectly normal, healthy, and she continues to wage her secret war in the heavens.”
23:59:35. A murmur of joy rippled through the family.
23:59:37. “This tanker belongs to one of her Sicilian relatives, all allies in our spiritual battle.”
23:59:40. “I will count down from ten. At the first toll of the St. James Church bell, we will sound our war cry.”
23:59:45. The woeful humming from the enemy occupying their home slithered across the silver water. Task Force Saber reflexively hummed their C major, canceling out the evil bawl.
23:59:50. “Ten-nine-eight-seven—” they all counted in soft unison, “six-five-four-three—”
23:59:58. The point of the bright blue sword swung downward like the second hand of a watch turning from twelve to six, leaving a crescent of radiant brilliance in its wake against the starry sky. “Two. One.”
The St. James church bell rang out.
“A Sword For The Lord And For Gabriella!”
The angelic host hurled the magnificent flaming Sword of the Lord down into Gabriella’s crevice in the granite ledge and the entire cliff erupted in a seismic explosion. Tons of rock sheared off the face of the cliff as it crashed into the ocean, creating a tsunami that roared seaward. The Spartan’s bow surged up on the twelve-foot wave, and the Task Force Saber fighters leaned back against the bridge. The ship slammed down against the ocean and rocked on the waves that followed. The warriors recovered their stance and watched their flaming home tumble into the foaming surf around the blazing cross. The blade of the Sword of the Lord buried itself deep into the stone seabed, leaving the bejeweled hilt exposed—a memorial of the Lord’s victory at Cielavista.
The earth quaked, then calmed. The Spartan settled onto a quiet sea. The sword’s flame died out and disappeared. The men and the women on the deck breathed.
Gabriella was standing now, her arms linked with Henry’s on her left and Sandy’s on her right. The last midnight toll from Saint James Church bell rang out into the clear, moonlit sky.
“All Saints Day,” Gabriella said.
“Poor man’s landscaping,” said Henry. He looked out at the two-foot quilt of snow covering the ground on Cielavista.
Sandy threw her hand over his shoulder and fingered is scruffy beard. Through the snow-laden spruce branches, the generator purred quietly.
“I like this little deck you built, Henry,” she said.
“Hank did most of it. I just handed him the tools and held the ends of the boards for him.”
“Speaking of…,” said Sandy.
Cinnamon, with Althea at the reins and Hank riding behind her, trotted into the clearing where their temporary camp was set up. They were pulling three toboggans in trail behind them, loaded with Carlos’ and Yolanda’s grandchildren.
The young couple waved when they spotted Henry and Sandy.
“She’s pregnant,” said Hank.
Henry and Sandy looked at each other, then back to Hank. “Really?” said Sandy.
Althea swatted Hank in the back of the head. “Not me. Cinnamon.”
Hank just grinned, and the horse-drawn train made a wide circle around the field.
The generator noise stopped. Henry shrugged at Sandy. “Out of fuel, I guess.”
Gabriella emerged from the trailer with two mugs of black coffee.
“Thanks, Nonina,” said Sandy.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” said the old prophetess.
“Ummm,” said Sandy, looking out over the soft stillness. “Silent.”
They sipped their coffee until the mugs were empty.
“I’ll take these in,” said Henry, collecting the women’s cups.
He watched his wife and her grandmother begin their walk down the path they had trod in the snow, out to the edge of the cliff to their new ledge on the water. Just before stepping over the lip, Sandy turned and pointed at Althea. She jerked her head and the young lady slid off Cinnamon. The three women stepped down the natural rock stairway to the ledge. Sandy and Gabriella leaped across the newly formed crevice.
It was low tide. Althea looked down into the seawater sloshing across the stones at the base of the cleft where the massive, bejeweled cross stood shimmering between the rocks.
Althea caught the eye of a seagull with a sand crab in his beak.
Gabriella looked across to Althea. “Come and join us, dear. You can’t see anything from there.”
(Data on page 135–136 taken from http://www.gannett-cdn.com/GDContent/mass-killings/index.html#title)
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Proof Through the Night Page 30