Excerpt of The Last Prophet by Jeff W. Horton

Prologue

I sat there waiting on the sofa, staring intermittently at the clock, the one with the minute hand that seemed to be racing around its circular course faster than any timepiece should, and out the living room window, where I could see nothing but gray skies and stillness. I knew that he was coming for me, and that he would arrive within the hour. He would come, and this time, he would kill me. Addon, and his followers would undoubtedly rejoice once I was dead, the one that they feared, the one they loathed, the one they despised, the one they held responsible for the many plagues they had endured.

Having long ago said our goodbyes to our families, and to the believers that we had met since arriving in Jerusalem––the wonderful city, the glorious city, the holy city, Moe, and I were ready. We had done all that we could to comfort our brothers and sisters, and to assure them that we would see them again very soon. While all of them rejoiced with us that we were about to go to be with the Father, some had left only when we told them that it would be easier for us if they did so, and even then they left only in tears for our sakes.

We knew that our waiting was almost over when suddenly, far off in the distance, we heard a low, faint, rumbling noise, like the roar of jet engines, heading in our direction. The reverberating sound grew louder as the source of the roar drew closer and closer. It soon became apparent that the noise was coming not from aircraft, but from something else, something big. I watched as several paintings hanging on the walls in the living room began to rattle and the floor began to shake. The house began vibrating with an ever–increasing intensity as the column of tanks drew closer and closer to our home. Eventually, the paintings leapt from the walls and fell crashing onto the hardwood floor, shattering and sending shards of glass in all directions. Based on the considerable contingent Addon had sent this time, we assumed he had heard what happened the last time someone had attempted to silence us.

Moe and I looked at one another before rising unsteadily from our seats. Each of us nodded in unspoken agreement as we began walking towards the door. We were scared, but we refused to stay and cower inside, just waiting for our enemy to arrive. We would meet him outside and face him as the faithful soldiers we were. Each of us took comfort knowing that, "He that is in us is greater than he that is in the world." We would not give the enemy the satisfaction of finding fear in our eyes when he arrived.

Our work was finished. We had travelled a long and difficult road, wrought with trials and tribulations, we had dutifully accomplished our mission, we had delivered the message the Lord had sent us to bring. We had carried his message and we had warned the peoples of the earth of the coming destruction. Our work was over; it was time for us to go home...