The Administrator's Office is small, austere, smelling of incense.

A statue of the Virgin Mary

and Child stands in a corner. A large crucifix hangs on the dark oak-paneled wall, flanked by a
picture of the Pope and a portrait of the founding father with a halo about his head.

The life-sized statues, the stations of the Cross, the staind-glass windows depicting their religious
scenes. Then, at the large mural on the ceiling, his eyes stopped, transfixed. There again, in bold
detail, was the man with the sword and the other at his feet.

His body stiffened. His head jerked violently. Saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth. The
eyes would shut, then open. Repeatedly, his entire body jerked in shuddering spasm. He began to
mumble. Suddenly, the incoherent mutterings became words of fire:

“BE GONE DECEIVER … FOR YOU ARE THE MASTER LIAR!”

“LIAR? CAN YOU DENY YOUR PHYSICAL TORTURES? DENOUNCE MAN’S
EXISTENCE AND YOU SHALL BATHE YOUR EXHAUSTED BODY IN THE MIGHTIEST
OF LAKES - TO COOL YOUR TONGUE IN THE MOST REFRESHING STREAMS.

Arabian luxury supreme. Regal rugs and furniture worthy of a Shah. Eight rooms in all, and a
terrace with a matching view of Central Park.

To be observed and guided by a supernatural force in itself was frightening. An unnatural

experience his mortal being continually challenged as hazardous to his sanity.
With June asleep and Ron Junior not at home, he stood outside the door to his den, a troubled
man, fearful of the presence inside the room — the invisible spiritual force, Michael, the
archangel, man's champion, a member of the original souls created by God in his own image ...
or was it?
His brow was beaded with sweat, and an equally wet palm rested on the door's handle. A driven
soul finally overpowered a protective body and he entered the blackened room. Hesitant, he then
closed the door behind him and stood in the darkness awaiting that voice. That shallow-sounding
voice. One that spoke in other worlds. One that conversed with God.
Words developed and came painfully from straining lungs. "Great angel . . . I haven't . . . haven't
the will to continue."
A beam of light shot through the window. He fell back against the door, blinded, and now felt
the intense pressure in the room. He struggled for breath, as from somewhere in the zone of light,
the voice spoke . . . "SPEAK NOT OF BODILY FEARS. SPEAK ONLY OF CAUSE."
Ron Rebuck cowered from the powerful light. Then it dimmed, illumining the wall.
"LOOK UPON THE WALL FOR ALL YOU SHALL SEE MUST BE WASHED FROM THE
MINDS OF MAN."
The Bibical feat of Moses, his staffing cane raised toward the sky and the sea parted, appeared
on the wall. Ron Rebuck's hands slowly uncovered his eyes.
He was struck with awe. The colors, the dimensions, were not humanly composed. No mortal
artist could ever accomplish such magnificence. Bewildered, he took in the new scene of Noah
and the ark, the drowning people, then in a rapid transformation the wall became alive with a
succession of Bibical events whereupon God's wrath was predominently revealed. The light
vanished. The room was once again dark, and fear trickled through his veins. ... Then the voice.
"AS YOU NOW STAND IN THE DARKNESS, SO IS MAN WHO KNOWS NOT ... HIS
TRUE GOD. YOU MUST BRING FORTH THE SPRING OF LIGHT TO THEIR MINDS.
CAST OUT THE IMPLANTED VENOMOUS DEEDS MAN HAS CHARGED UPON THE
LORD GOD FROM THE WRITINGS IN A BOOK CALLED HOLY. YEA, REBUCK,
TESTIFY TO WHICH THE LORD GOD IS LOVE, NOT HATE. THE CONCEIVER OF
BEAUTY, NOT TRAGEDY. THE CREATOR OF ETERNAL LIFE AND NOT THE FATHER
OF MORTAL DEATH."
There was silence as Ron Rebuck, gasping for air, mustered all of the courage within, and cut
through the tense quiet: "Great Michael ... to correct the Bible with my book ... to challenge
centuries-old thinking . . . the opposition, great angel..."
" FEAR NOT MAN. YOUR EVERY ACT, EVERY WORD SHALL BE KNOWN TO ME.
STAY TRUE TO YOUR DIRECTED COURSE. RETREAT FROM NONE. RID YOURSELF
OF BODILY FEAR FOR IN THE WAY AHEAD THE SOULS FROM HEAVEN WHO
VOWED THEIR ALLEGIENCE TO MAN'S CAUSE SHALL BE AT YOUR SIDE
ALWAYS."
"Will . . . will they speak to me? Guide me?""
"CONFIDE ONLY IN THE VOICE YOU NOW
120
HEAR. YOU SHALL FEEL MY PRESENCE AS YOU DO NOW."
"Great Michael... if I should .. . fail?"
"YOU SHALL NOT FAIL." A fierceness came into the voice. "YOUR MORTAL BODY
MUST UNITE WITH ITS ETERNAL SOUL IN ALL THAT YOU MUST DO. YOU HAVE
BEEN CHOSEN, RON REBUCK . . . YOU CAN NEVER TURN BACK."
Ron Rebuck winced from the potent words. His mind somehow strangely thought of another. . .
"What of Lucifer, great Michael?"
There was no immediate reply and Ron Rebuck felt a sudden chill of fear. In a trembling voice
he again whispered, "Are you here?"
Seconds felt like minutes before the voice was to answer, "I AM HERE."
"And . . . my question? of Lucifer?"
"HE KNOWS OF YOU."
The voice seemed to weaken — becoming even more distant. A new shiver of fear ran through
Ron Rebuck's entire body. The voice went on.
"LUCIFER IS AS YOU HAVE WRITTEN. YOU HAVE UNMASKED THE MANY
DISGUISES MAN HAS GIVEN HIM. MORE, YOU HAVE PRESENTED HIS ARGUMENT
FAIRLY AND WITHOUT PREJUDICE. THIS HAS TAKEN HIM BY SURPRISE. YET,
BEWARE. HIS ENMITY FOR MAN KNOWS NO LIMITS.
On rubbery legs Ron Rebuck walked in the dark. From routine, he knew the location of his desk
and made his way toward it. His hand felt for the chair; finding it, he slumped into the seat. He
was a body fatigued, drawn, as the room started to vibrate, then shook, accompanied by a roaring
sound as

if the earth itself had trembled. Then before terror-filled eyes, lights, a multitude of lights, colors
he never knew to exist, sparkled about the room. He fell from the chair, to the floor, aghast. The
lights danced wildly before his eyes. Lights so pure, so brilliant, of such breathtaking beauty, he
could never have imagined them. And then the lights grouped, forming a body. The brilliance of
the vision forced him to cover his eyes — blinded by the supernatural event.
The roaring faded, and a sputtering, like the crackling from wood afire, infiltrated his ears. He
was unwilling to look up. Unwilling to gaze upon the now burning cross.
"MAN'S FATE RESTS WITH YOU, RON REBUCK. WHERE I FAILED IN THE BODY OF
CHRIST, YOU MUST NOT!"

Then it happened. Beyond the terrace windows, thrown open by the wind, a great light appeared.
Crack Widener stared at its incredible, brightening beauty until it grew too powerful to look
upon. He shaded his eves. From the center of blazing light, there shot forth tongues of fire, each
tongue exploding into a fiery word—words spoken by a voice to chill the heart of the bravest
man:
THAT . . . MAN'S . . . SOUL . . . SHALL . . . NOT .. . KNOW . . . HIS . . . GOD ... AS ... DO ...
WE
. . IS ... DANGEROUS ... TO ... THE . . . FATHER.
The overwhelming light vanished. Nothing remained beyond the windows, except the darkness
of night.
Now Impy could hear Turk Savage and others pounding on the outer door and calling to them.
But -ill Crack Widener stood, eyes blurred, listening. This

"Mr. Rebuck, when you previously said that someone or something besides us was present in this
room, was that meant to frighten us? A scare tactic? If so, brilliantly effective. My compliments."
"Scare tactics! You dare to accuse me of such tactics! You, a member of the greatest cabal of
fear experts on earth! My entire mission is to destroy fear. To rid God of the terrible stigma you
and others have maligned Him with. No, it won't be I who exults in tragedies, who wrongfully
uses the Name of God to grow rich."
A pale light appeared about Ron Rebuck's head. Paul Bartley blinked hard in disbelief, but the
light brightened. John Gallogly now felt that familiar and powerful presence in the room. He
wanted to flee but was rooted to his chair by the captivating voice. "It is not I who flies the flag
of fear. They who cravenly use the Name of God to achieve personal goals. They who murder
and hold hostage innocent men and women — claiming to be in communication with God."
The voice was changing. It was no longer Ron Rebuck speaking . . . but another. "Why have you
prostituted the truth? Why have you not spoken out against those who war in the Name of God?
Why have you not righted the wrong in a book called 'Holy'?"
Suddenly, the face was no longer that of Ron Rebuck.

Ron Rebuck stepped into a spotlight and pointed at the book. "It's all in there ... in that book. The
one called good. The one called holy."
The stage went dark, and seconds later, on a gianc screen, a familiar scene appeared: an artist's
conception of the Flood with Noah's Ark in the foreground. There were horrifying vignettes of
men and beasts drowning — a whole world destroyed, save for Noah and his small band of
shipmates. Then the screen switched to another scene of Biblical slaughter: the waters of the Red
Sea. which had parted for Moses and the Chosen, closing over the multitudes who pursued them.
The screen went dark and Ron Rebuck stood on center stage, next to the lectern holding the giant
Bible. His eyes were aflame. "I ask you, would the God of all creation do these things? Would a
Loving God comm random slaughter of the creatures He had made?"
He pointed to the Bible. "The True Testament, thev call it . . . the unchallengeable and
unimpeachable Word. The evangelists will tell you that God Himself inspired its writing. They,
and most other religious tycoons dare you to contradict them and warn you of dire consequences
should you try.
"True, they also tell you the Bible speaks of hope and charity. All of that is good and I do not
deny it or challenge it.
"Yet, in their very next breath, they speak of a savage Scripture — of sinners in the hands of a
vengeful and angry God."
He walked away from the lectern, the spotlight following, while all around him was darkness.
"Are we to believe that a forgiving, compassionate, Loving God. who conceived our existence,
would then murder us?
"Why would the Supreme Being, whose all-encom-
294
passing knowledge made Him totally aware of Man's weakness prior to the Creation, ever
conceive us? Are we • believe in a sadistic God, reveling in our sorrows and agonies?''
His voice lowered to a conversational tone.

Ron Rebuck was back on stage, standing alone before blue-green curtain. The crowd listened in
wide-ey silence, awed and at the same time turned on by thai strange, intense-eyed man.
He waited for absolute silence and then began: "From the Bible comes many a revered name —
men of honor and truth. These men, we are told, were in direct contact with God. There were
those who conversed with God and those who were tested by God. These Biblical names echo
today from church pulpits throughout our land.
"These are the saintly, the learned, the prophets, apostles and the disciples from long ago. From
Mose-Genesis to John's Revelations, their holy names glow in the Book of Scripture. Yet,
strangely, not one of these great heroes of the Bible ever spoke out and denounce the existence of
a Wrathful God . . . Not onel"
The curtain slowly rose and Ron Rebuck strolled toward a dim-lit corner of the stage. "To best
illustrate the absurdity of a Supreme God . . . Who, we are asked to believe, conceived our very
existence, knowing beforehand what we shall do before we do it, then condemn us come
Judgment . . . you see what is meant to resemble a courtroom." Overhead lights beamed down;
on a staged set. "However, this is no ordinary courtroom, but one God, Himself, presides over."
Two figures stood before an elevated bench. Off to the side, another. A gold-clad figure was
seated behind the bench. All were robed and hooded, and their faces veiled. Ron Rebuck spoke
on, "The examination before Judgment is about to begin. The prosecution and the defense stand
before the Supreme Judge. The clerk is about to summon the soul of man."
Ron Rebuck now gestured toward the stage. "The figure in the purple robe is counsel for the
defense, - champion - Michael. The figure in black, the rr of mortal death, is the prosecutor -
Lucifer, lading to the side, robed in silver, is God's Herald — Gabriel.
Finally, and with no blasphemy intended, seated in mr nadge's chair, robed in gold — The Lord
God. -The soul of man standing trial represents the evilest of all men ... I shall play his role."

THE SOUL OF PETER BRIAN, come forth!” Gabriel comMANDED..

Portraying the fictitious soul of a fictitious man, Ron kbuck went toward the bench where he was
flanked by prosecutor and defense counsel, as all stood before the rsonated Presence of God.
Will the clerk read the charges?" asked the judge. The defendant is accused of every sin and
crime -n to Man," said Gabriel, going on to read a v list that included murder, blasphemy, arson,
|Bape — a breaking of each and every one of the Ten ■Commandments. "How does the soul of
Peter Brian plead?" asked the
"I am neither guilty nor innocent," said the accused. I Lucifer laughed contemptuously. Then, in
a somber . he addressed the Supreme Judge. "My Lord, of the souls that have come before your
exalted Pres-jprr. this one is the most guilty of all. There can be no ^Bd defense made in this
soul's behalf. He has admit :-- his crimes, and we have countless witnesses who ■neht be
called. I, therefore, move for a summary judg-tt against this soul and claim custody of this soul in
Limbo I govern."

"I object!" Michael exclaimed. "The soul of man it entitled to a fair and unbiased hearing. This is
stated in the 'Articles of Man.' "
"A fruitless exercise, Michael." Lucifer turned to the accused soul of man. "You have been
observed by a legion of souls in my force. Your every despicable deed has been lodged in the
book of records. How can you plead anything but guilty?"
"I am neither guilty nor innocent."
"You are as corrupt as the body you came from."
"If I am corrupt, it is not I who am responsible."
Lucifer pointed threateningly at the soul of man. "Your insolence will not be tolerated in this
great court You are not on earth where you and the body you rotted in did as you pleased." He
drew closer to the bench, then addressed the Lord. "Again, I move for a summary judgment and
claim custody of this "soul in the Limbo I govern."
"The Purgatory you govern," said Michael. "Great Father, Lucifer is attempting to intimidate this
soul, and I object to his unwarranted threats. I ask that he be restrained from any further abuse of
this soul."
"Abuse? Hah," Lucifer sounded. "Go on, go on, Michael, proceed with your futile defense."
Ignoring Lucifer's words, Michael spoke to man's soul.
"You have made the statement you are neither guilty nor innocent. Speak freely of this."
"The responsibility of any acts, as damnable as they were, cannot be blamed on the Body that
now decays in the Earth nor on the living soul that I am."
Lucifer roared, ."This soul shows total disregard for this Court. In the presence of the Almighty,
it has the audacity to perjure itself further."
298
"Continue," said Michael to the soul of Peter Brian.
"Whatever I am, I'm the result of an imposition. As was the body I once inhabited."
"An imposition? Do you truly feel the creation of your soul was forced upon you?"
"And the Body that died, as well."
"Whom do you blame?"
"Whoever created me."
"The Supreme Being you now stand before is the Creator of all. Have you not learned of this on
Earth?"
"I've learned many things on Earth. Mostly, of the Hell Man's body and soul are subjected to."
"And you have perpetrated every damnable act known to Man," said Lucifer.
Michael turned to his great adversary. "This hearing is for the express purpose of determining
where this soul shall await final judgment. I charge you, Lucifer, to abide by the laws of
procedure during this hearing."
"Pursue, Michael. Pursue your path of folly."
Angered over Lucifer's continued interruptions, Michael dispensed with preliminaries and got to
the heart of his defense. "Do you seek separate hearings for body and soul?"
"I object," Lucifer shouted. "Michael is leading this soul into answering a question that is
inadmissable. The body is dead. The soul shall bear the full guilt of the body it once possessed."
"There is nothing in the Articles of Man to exclude me from introducing the question of Man's
body into this hearing.
Lucifer's voice spilled over with hate. "There . . . there beside you stands a tainted soul ... a soul
as corrupt and wicked as the body it dwelt in. Never did it influence the body toward a path of
righteousness. Never did it challenge evil. Never did it encourage the body to destroy itself. I
dare this man’s soul to deny the charges.”

“I seek only the reason, the motive behind my creations,” said the soul of Man. Neither counsel
would respond and the silence lingered. At long last the figure robed in gold spoke:
Speak on your own behalf,” said Michael. “Speak freely before you maker.”

Undaunted, the soul of Peter Brian moved away from the arch enemies and approached the
Divine Being. “I have heard of the various assorted reasons for my creation. And despite
Michael’s noble intentions, his valiant effort in championing Man’s cause, I am convinced my
soul and every soul that comes from Man, represents an mposition of the greatest magnitude.
"I have been repeatedly told of Man's free will. I haw been told that Man was not created to be a
puppet. Tha Man was given a will that is free, to choose right fron wrong. But Man's 'free will'
comes only after the fa Neither I nor the body I inhabited ever asked to created. We had no
choice in our creation nor in 01 roles on earth. Our existence was forced upon without our
original consent.
"In essence, Man's so-called will has already be willed."
"Do you dare to question the will of God?" Lucife thundered.
"I dare to question a God who conceived the idea fo my existence if. . . I repeat, i/I am to be
punished."
"You have freely sinned and the eternal punishment I seek for you is justified."
"Justified? Who besides you, Lucifer, shall find guilty?"
"The Lord God, come final judgment, who sha rightfully condemn your soul to everlasting
damna tion."
"Rightfully condemn? You speak of this as justifica-J tion? I see it as a crime more grievous than
anything man on earth could ever possibly commit. That a| Supreme God would punish an
existence He alone created, knowing from the start the final results!"
Before Lucifer could reply, the Lord spoke, "Do yoal truly condemn your God?"
"I condemn the God that manifests Himself in manrj pages of a book called the Holy Bible. A
God wh« created, then killed, His own creation. Are you tha«J God?"
There was a silence, then the Great Judge continued^
302
Am I that God, Michael? . . . Am I that God, Lucifer? Come forth. Join the soul of Man before
me."
Dutifully, they came and stood next to Peter Brian's soul. The Lord waited a moment, then spoke
on: 'Man's soul has said it was your God whose plan it was for Man's existence. A plan that was
a grave imposition Dn Man's body and soul, for Man had no choice in creation. Man's soul says
that its will is not truly That it comes only after the fact. "Man's soul has also introduced into this
court a book called Holy. And in parts of this I am portrayed as the reat Destroyer. In this book,
it is revealed that I have condoned the spilling of Man's blood and the agony of men's souls, in
the wars on earth that have been fought in My name. I am revealed to be the Father of Man's
bodily death. In this same book it is foretold that in Man's time on earth, I am to destroy the
earth, raise the ' dead, summon all of the souls and bodies of Man before me, then to cast those I
judge to be guilty into eternal damnation. . . . Am I this God?"
Prosecution and Defense Counsel bowed their hooded heads, but Peter Brian stood tall.
"From this book and through the tongues of Man, past and present, Man is ignorant of the true
face of his God. And what of those who use the illusion of a Wrathful God to benefit their own
cause? . . . Am I deserving of this? Is your God to be continually grieved by Idle lies, the
fallacies, Man lives under? Look up at me, Michael; look upon your God, Lucifer. Your
declaration of war upon each other finds Man placed in helpless jeopardy.
"Oh, sons of mine, any agony Man endures is not of ur God's choosing but of your own. Who
does this man's soul charge for his existence? You, Michael, who

Dressed in a black suit with a metallic blue shirt opj at the neck to reveal a Michael's medallion,
R«i Rebuck stepped onstage to spontaneous applause. H made a faint motion with one hand and
the studio ai dience became deathly still.
"To the Christian world," he began, "Easter is t| commemoration of a man who died on a cross
and tlui days later rose from the dead."
The stage went dark. And from the darkness camel barely audible sound, which rose subtly in
volume "Hallelujah, Hallelujah" boomed out from an invisib
306
r. A wide beam of light revealed onstage a re-enact-of Christ's rising from the dead. Rebuck,
standing in a small spotlight to one side ifae scene, directed the audience toward the actors,
(jessed in mourning clothes, congregated around the va-pjBC tomb.
""He has risen as He said He would," a woman joy-Ut exclaimed.
I "He is truly the Son of God," a man cried out. I fcon Rebuck turned from the biblical scene.
The of the "Hallelujah's" from the choir faded to a ur. "Did the body of this man truly achieve
vie-over Death? Who was this man called Christ?" Dm out of the shadows a figure with a long
and tng beard came forth. He held in his hand the rew Bible. "I am Malachi, the messenger of
eh. From Moses, the father of all prophets, comes law of Yahweh: 'You shall not have other gods
x me.
other stepped from the shadows, a man attired in cvle of the ancient Greeks. He, too, carried a
book s hand. In bold letters, the title read "The New Tes-nt." He said, "I am Luke, and in this
holy book he gospel. He that died on the Cross and has risen dv the Son of God."
hear the words of myth and nothing more," said wrhi. "He that died on the Cross was not the Son
of . nor of Yahweh . . . but only a man." ie answered: "Great prophet, you who remain red in
mystery, you who wrote the last book of the anient you carry: the prophet of the coming of the of
God you foretold came in the person of John the ist- With his powerful voice, John announced
the ing of the Lord. 'Glory be the Son of God, Jesus
307

Christ, who died and has risen!' "

Malachi laughed a mocking laugh. "The gospel yc have written in the book you clutch to your
heart is the gospel told by a man who never met this Christ, never witnessed his crucifixion nor
his rising from the dead. This is the gospel of one whose knowledge has been passed to him by
others."
Malachi continued: "Moreover, he that is called Paul — the apostle Paul, known as Saul of
Tarsus, who called you the beloved physician, is another like yourself, who never met this man
called Christ, yet fills your Bible with his revelations and writings. Who is to believe the words
of Saul of Tarsus, whose hands are stained! with the blood of many?"
Luke drew himself up and answered: "The very book you hold, Malachi, tells us of those who
murdered many, yet changed their terrible ways when the light of God touched their hearts. Yet,
tell me, great prophet, why is there no clear record of your name? Why have you written a book
under a disguise — the disguise of God's messenger?"
"It is not I who must explain myself and my identity. It is you. Unlike you and Paul, who passed
along the word of others, I have delivered the message from Yahweh — the only God. An all-
knowing God, who need not come into this world in the guise of a man to die on the cross. I say
to you there is no son of god called Christ. There is no trinity. You and the other architects of the
Bible you hold in your hand have conceived the existence of a false God, and have willfully
violated the great Commandment given to Moses: T am the Lord thy God, thou shalt not have
any false gods before me.' " -
The pageant of prophets faded into darkness. Ron
308
■ebuck's face, his tricolored eyes blazing, now appeared ■i a beam of light. "Jesus Christ came
into this world ike us all, through mankind's greatest miracle: child-fcrth. Jesus Christ was
different from all other human [brings because he was born without an original soul!" : Ron
Rebuck's face slowly dissolved as lightning, folded by claps of thunder, flashed with terrifying
reali-tW. A gentle rain commenced to fall as the scene ol fchrist's crucifixion materialized. A
great light glitterec M the foot of the cross, and from this light a voice plead «d: "Denounce man,
Michael. Denounce the unwortb existence you have foolishly championed. I implore yo> m
bring about the end of this bitter war between us." I From within the body on the cross, nearing
dead Lame the final refusal: "You shall not know glory th 4av on earth. You have lost, Lucifer."
I The voice from within the glittering light no long \ pleaded but thundered: "Why should you,
the m; [Jesus, be falsely encouraged by a soul that tastes r [water — experiences not death. I
command you to ( [■ounce the soul of Michael within you, and all the so' pfcat await in limbo
shall honor your name. Denom Michael and your death shall not have been in vain."
The rain subsided. The agonized face of Christ lool Lpward, silhouetted against a strange purple
sky. As ijhtning flashed again and the thunder raged in distance, a thin river of blood trickled
from Chr j»outh, and there came the groans of approaching de Unheard by Man, Michael's voice
trumpeted f from the body it would shortly leave: "By the deal iiis glorious Body, Man's
salvation has been achif Man's soul shall enter Heaven garlanded with pi Come judgment, Man's
reward shall be greater mat of all the angels."

Ron rebuck was now moving into the final segment a "The Michael's Messenger Show" and the
audience sa on the edges of their seats, waiting for whatever would come next.
"Medical science, physiology, psychology . . . these disciplines tell us how our minds and bodies
work. Y theology stumbles in the dark when it tries to exph" our soul. Soul, To many, it's just a
word. To others, myth, a figment of man's fantastic imagination. Te nology has come very far
and very fast, but the would-bd technologists of the soul — the reverends and religioug scholars
— know little of the soul.
"Oh, they're quick to explain how the soul leaves body upon the body's death. They're adept at
citing Bible wherever it speaks of the soul. But they fail to derstand, much less explain, the soul's
independence the body in which it dwells."
Ron Rebuck's face shone with uncanny brillian "There is no greater battle than the one that goes
oa within you. Two separate and independent forces in a perpetual struggle. Your mortal body,
created throuj the evolution of lower animals, is constantly in conflal with an eternal soul made
in the image of God. The wai between body and soul rages on without ceasing una your body
perishes. What I ask now is: Why? Why mua]
310
mortal body and immortal soul forever war with each other?"
There was a clashing of cymbals and a roll of drums and a towering wooden structure appeared
behind Ron Rebuck. Suddenly, huge letters were burned into the wood. The drums and cymbals
ceased. The letters, blazoned in silver, read: THE LAWYERS OF HELL.
Ron Rebuck stepped closer to the tall structure. '"Within this book lies the truth about man's life
and death — and about man's immortal soul. This truth, like all truth, is dangerous. It will rock
the great established religions of our world.
I speak of those who launch the frail theological sidps that cruise through the minds of men. That
vast Bret whose leader is Admiral Fear. There is no admiral af agony on the vessel I sail. For the
flag I hoist is not me skull-and-bones, not the blood-stained colors of a Wrathful God. Help me,
sail with me on the perilous course, to sink those ships of fear."
The volume of the electric guitars and drums built in me background as Rebuck's face streamed
with sweat.
:n a messenger of the great Archangel Michael, who calls out to every man, woman and child to
help destroy me myth of a vengeful God. Help me vanquish those who have built mighty
religions on foundations of fear.
"If they came out and told you there was no Wrathful God. no eternal Hell, who would support
their monu-kexits, their vast properties, their tax-free churches, fcrms and mansions? I say to
you, the next time a priest r_-.>ter. faith-healing fool or religious faker speaks o icoe tragic event
as being an act of God, tell 'em t< Breach their poison elsewhere. Don't let them chaii wour soul
by whipping the body with words of fear."
He now extended his arms, his voice trembling wit

The greatest theological minds the world has known -- silence by one and his book.
They met in a room called “Daniel’s Den” - an oval shaped room with stained glass windows.
Numerous busts of Biblical figures --- Daniel, Moses, John, James, Luke and Paul, among others
-- were stationed at intervals around the vast inlaid mahogany conference table.

our soul unto eternal damnation. In the Name of and His great son, Jesus Christ, strike out with
spiritual swords at this man—for his works have made by the King of Despair. Christians in
Christ, me now—the Anti-Christ seeks your souls!"
So mesmerized was the crowd by Billy revelation that for nearly a minute they sat locked
absolute silence. It was only when the thin, shrill va of one woman pierced the stillness with
"Halleltnall that the spell was broken.
As a great roar rose from the crowd, Norville Rig sprang from his chair and rushed to embrace a
drained shaken Billy Hale, tears welling from his eyes.
In a choked voice, the gospel singer commenced sing "Onward Christian Soldiers." The
evangelists stage quickly joined in, waving their arms to lead audience.
It was a moving spectacle—people, old and alike, joining hands, rising and singing as one. faces
beaming. The song rose in the night air, er with the feeling of Christian unity. Billy Hale,
overcome, wept unashamedly.
And then it happened, suddenly, so unexpectedly. First there was a whistling sound, then, a split
second later, the devastating concussion and a gigantic blaze of white-hot light.
An antipersonnel missile, a mortar shell, had landed on the stage where Tommy Sunday had
been waving his Stetson, where Wallace Langley and gospel Eulalia Johnson had stood, arms
interlocked and in triumph. Then they were gone.
The blast spat out fragments of human bodies. Tommy Sunday's head sailed over the first five
rows of seats and fell into the arms of a young man who stared at the macabre thing he was
holding, then fainted dead
sobbing Norville Riggins crawled about the stage on ds and knees, his face covered with blood,
crying t. "My God, I'm blind."
lose by, Billy Hale lay helplessly on his back. He had ' to get up three times and each time had
failed. His leg, bloody and mangled, lay under him, twisted at a tesque angle.
Harlev Lombard, unhurt, stood motionless, frozen in shock.