Pastor Rachel Howard peered out the bedroom’s rear window, struggling to see past the sheets of rain. Thunder shook the one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old parsonage, followed immediately by a flash of lightning so bright it stung her eyes.She shrank back from the ground-floor window, retreating to the absolute darkness of the room once more. She didn’t want them, the ones who watched, to suspect what she was up to. They were coming for her. She didn’t know who they were, only that there were many of them.
He was more powerful than she had imagined. Craftier. More vile.
She had underestimated his reach. An error. A fatal one, she feared.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, words from the Twenty-third Psalm running through her head, comforting her. Drowning out the litany of other voices, ones no one but she could hear.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.
She planned to escape tonight and head to the mainland. Once safe, she would decide her best course of action. If she made it.
A sense of calm came over her; a momentary peace. In death his glory awaited. No matter the outcome of this night, the darkness would not have her.
Rachel opened her eyes and inched toward the window once more, clutching the envelope in her hands more tightly. Her friend would come despite the storm. He wouldn’t let her down.
She prayed he wouldn’t.
And she prayed she hadn’t endangered his life by asking for his help.
She imagined their laughter, their tauntings. She amused them, she knew. Her Lord amused them.
Thunder boomed again, reverberating through her. In the flash of lightning she saw her friend dart across the garden, a shapeless figure in a rain-slicked poncho.
Moments later he appeared at the window. Gratitude and affection flooded her senses; tears stung her eyes. She lifted the window and handed him the envelope.
He was more powerful than she had imagined. Craftier. More vile.
She had underestimated his reach. An error. A fatal one, she feared.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, words from the Twenty-third Psalm running through her head, comforting her. Drowning out the litany of other voices, ones no one but she could hear.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me.
She planned to escape tonight and head to the mainland. Once safe, she would decide her best course of action. If she made it.
A sense of calm came over her; a momentary peace. In death his glory awaited. No matter the outcome of this night, the darkness would not have her.
Rachel opened her eyes and inched toward the window once more, clutching the envelope in her hands more tightly. Her friend would come despite the storm. He wouldn’t let her down.
She prayed he wouldn’t.
And she prayed she hadn’t endangered his life by asking for his help.
She imagined their laughter, their tauntings. She amused them, she knew. Her Lord amused them.
Thunder boomed again, reverberating through her. In the flash of lightning she saw her friend dart across the garden, a shapeless figure in a rain-slicked poncho.
Moments later he appeared at the window. Gratitude and affection flooded her senses; tears stung her eyes. She lifted the window and handed him the envelope.
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