in control, able to look at the big picture and plan, rather than simply react to the shooter’s next move.
“Listen up. I just got back from a meeting with the mayor, and we have to change our focus. This thing has gotten crazy. The governor is threatening to call up the National Guard for additional manpower and institute a curfew. We are going to lose control of this investigation if we cannot find the sniper quickly or calm the public and buy some time. The politicians seem to be more concerned about their survival in office than they are about dead people in the streets. We have become the target. Expect more public criticism. It’s coming. They are looking for someone to blame and that someone is us!”
“Whatever happened to a simple police investigation?” Troy Dallas asked in frustration and disgust.
“There is nothing simple about this investigation,” answered Inspector Todd Wilson, the old man on the team. “We’ve followed procedure and worked through all the logical means to identify the killer, and we are no closer today than when we began. People are afraid with good reason. This sniper seems to kill simply for the pleasure of killing. He doesn’t care who he kills. How can we stop someone like that? He’s inhumane. He kills indiscriminately. He even targets children. What kind of monster does that?”
The marker board was out, and Officer Sally Johnson wrote two words in capital letters – WHAT NEXT. “Enough already,” she said. “Let’s go to work and stop this killer.”
Located less than a half a mile from room 107, the shooter was considering how to proceed and how she wanted this all to end. She felt safe, protected and concealed in her garage apartment close to the campus. The key for her was the garage. It provided a place where she could do in secret everything necessary to prepare for her next move. She waited for inspiration. The specific target didn’t matter. What she was looking for was surprise, effect then escape. Hit hard and be smart. It was a game, like the video games she had grown so accustomed to over the past few years. She liked that the games had become more realistic as technology developed. It made what she was doing more fun.
Beyond the sight of human eyes, inspiration arrived in the form of one of the messengers sent from Taylor Jones’s funeral. There was a smile on the dark wisp’s bright yellow face as the message was delivered to another whose huge hands and long fingers dug deep into the shooter’s head. Message delivered. His master would be pleased. Soon another one of these human creatures would perish.
The Target of Darkness
Argon waited for each of the dark wisps to return from their assignment. His thoughts were interrupted by one such excited being who asked carefully, “Sir, what is the greater plan? Why did you send those messages?”
“And who gave you permission to ask?” he responded in anger at being interrupted. “Have you suddenly become one with authority?”
“No, Sir,” came the answer deferentially.
“What is your name, little one?” Argon asked.
“I am called Zaccur.”
“A noble name with history I know,” Argon replied and paused for effect. “I will answer you although you have no right to know. The messages are for those who hold influence over human instruments we can use to advance the Dark Master’s plan. Consider the shooter. We protect and guide her; we confuse those who seek her, and we create fear and anger in the hearts of the masses. That you should have expected. The goal hasn’t changed. The Dark Master hates all made in the image of the Enemy, the one they call God.”
“Yes, but there is more here than that. I have seen others and have heard them talking,” Zaccur continued pushing for information despite the danger.
“What makes you think I know the Dark Master’s plan? I merely rule a city under other authority. The Dark Master rules the earth.”
“You had to know something to direct the messages,” Zaccur probed.
This one is both smart and ambitious. A dangerous combination, Argon thought.
“The Dark Master’s target is not simply this city and those the shooter may be persuaded to kill before she is ultimately killed. It is what we have been waiting for two hundred years, the end of arrogant America – the so-called “land of the free and home of the brave,” the nation that proclaims “in God we trust” on its money and “one nation under God” in its pledge, America, the “Christian nation.” It’s all a lie, but many people in the world believe it. America will be humbled and then destroyed. It will crawl and beg for the end. And Williams has a special place in the Dark Master’s plan – we will not fail.”
“Come and I will show you some of what I have been entrusted with,” Argon said arrogantly as he led and Zaccur followed, flying through the sky unseen by human eyes.
“Look now,” Argon said as they descended through a wall to enter a building where a meeting was in progress. “The one talking is called Sam Will. He is a retired truck driver with a high opinion of himself. He thinks he is the inspiration behind an organization they named the Citizens’ Militia, a name they took from some old document. This bunch wants to organize the gun owners in Williams to act as a private law enforcement group to stop the shooter. They have given up on the police. The possibilities for mischief are enormous.”
“Let me show you another,” and they moved toward an old rent house off of Bell and 17th which they entered with equal ease. “Those you see here were trained along the Afghan and Pakistan border in the fine art of killing masses of people. They will be most useful. They are but a test of a strategy which will be inflicted on the whole country as part of a larger plan. There are other groups forming in other cities, and even now many corresponding trained Jihadists are crossing the Mexican border to advance the Dark Master’s plan. It is not clear to me what the others are to do, but I know the intent is that together they will deal the United States a blow from which it can never fully recover,” Argon spoke with joy and passion.
“Respectfully, Sir, wasn’t that what September 11th was supposed to do?” Zaccur asked.
“September 11th was to humble America by destroying national symbols, killing masses as well as some of its elected leaders. It ended up embarrassing America, but only 3,000 died, and our instruments missed the targeted leaders. This is nothing like that. That was for show; this is to finish what we have been trying to do since the beginning. Just wait and watch. We won’t fail this time.”
Argon smiled, anticipating what was coming, excited at his part and loving the attention of the little one. His instructions had been obeyed fully. The messages, when delivered, had resulted in multiple long fingers digging deeper into skulls, the brain of each target being cradled as direction was planted in their consciousness so that they believed it was inspiration from their own thoughts and ideas. The scales over the eyes kept them from seeing anything their Keeper did not want them to see while the great hands covering their ears kept them from hearing anything other than what their Keeper wanted them to hear. As long as the Curtain remained closed, no one was the wiser and nothing in the physical would appear out of the ordinary.
CHAPTER 2
“For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are
