10 The Remnant by Tim Lahaye

Author:Tim Lahaye
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Christian
ISBN: 9780842332309
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers
Published: 2002-12-30T06:00:00+00:00

Chang heard a fist slam. “Stubborn!” Carpathia said. “So stubborn. Why are these people so resolute? so stupid? so shortsighted?”

“Today they will pay, Highness.”

“Right now, even as we speak?” Carpathia’s voice evidenced his excitement.

“Yes, right now.”

“What is the music?”

“The condemned ones hum and sing, my lord. It is not uncommon.”

“Shut them up!”

“One moment. Excuse me, sir.” He called to someone in the background, “Jorge! Communicate to the officers at the site that the supreme potentate does not allow the music. Yes, now! Your Highness, it will be stopped.”

“These have definitely chosen the blade?”

“They have, sir. They are in line.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“Only to carry out your wish to stop the music, sir.”

“Get on with it! The blade will silence them.”

Chang recoiled when he saw a guard with a huge rifle and bayonet nudging the first person in line, a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. She was singing, her face turned toward heaven. The guard yelled at her, but she did not acknowledge. He bumped her and she stumbled, but still she sang, eyes upward.

He jabbed her in the ribs with the butt of the rifle, and she dropped to one knee, then rose and continued singing. Now he set himself to her side, planted his feet, and drove the bayonet through her arm and into her side. She cried out as the bayonet was removed, and she reached with her other hand to press it over the wound. Her singing now came in sobs as the people behind her fell to their knees.

“What is she singing?” Carpathia demanded. The sound was enhanced, and Chang found himself breathless as he listened to the woman’s pitiful, labored singing. She could no longer hold up her head, but she stood wobbling, clearly woozy, struggling to sing,”.. did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown?”

The guard was joined by others, swinging the stocks of their rifles at the heads of those who bowed.

“Tell the guards to stop making a spectacle of it!” Carpathia raged. “They are playing right into these people’s hands. Let the crowd see that no matter what they do or say or sing, still their heads belong to us!”

The guillotine was readied as the woman continued to force out the lyrics, though she had long since lost the tune. As she was grabbed by guards on each side and wrestled into place, she cried out, “… demands my soul, my life, my all!”

The blade dropped and the crowd erupted.

“Aah!” Carpathia sighed. “Can we not see from the other side?”

“The other side, sir?” the South American potentate repeated.

“Of the blade! Of the blade! Get a camera around there! The body does not drop! It merely collapses. I want to see the head drop!”

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