Nelson Smithson was awoken with a start. His keen hearing had picked up on the fact that someone had most likely thrown some sort of large projectile through the window of the sanctuary above him. Nelson, a middle-aged man, of average height and build quickly dressed in his black robes and carefully maneuvered himself from his quarters in the basement up to the sanctuary in order to check out what the damage was.
“Lord, be with me.” he said out loud as he approached the gaping hole that was once a large, colourful stained glass window.
He heard the voices of two men. Not wanting to cause a stir, Nelson stayed in the shadows and listened carefully. Staying in the shadows was not hard to do since his church’s sign was the only light to be seen in the whole city.
Making sure to stay unnoticed, Newton peered out from his hiding place behind a wall next to the newly formed doorway in the sanctuary.
He saw a middle-aged man arguing with a younger man about the attributes of Jesus.
Both seemed frustrated. The older one was raging mad.
The young one seemed hopeful, but confused about some of the things he was discussing with the older man.
Nelson was filled with compassion for the wheelchair bound man who was looking for hope in this increasingly hopeless and, now literally dark, world.
Newton decided to follow the man in the wheelchair at a distance as he receded into the night. The older man disappeared quickly and quietly, but Newton could easily hear the sound of the younger man’s wheelchair as it bounced and meandered along the rough sidewalks of the London streets.
Staying out of sight was no difficulty for Nelson once they had cleared the light of the sign outside the church.
After a time of following, Nelson heard the man in the wheel chair stop, presumably at his residence.
Nelson took refuge in a large bush nearby.
He had plans to knock on the confused man’s door and help him with his many questions about Christ. He wanted to give him some hope. He had to wait for a time so it did not appear that he had followed the man in a wheelchair home.
Half an hour had passed, though it was impossible to tell time when the whole world was in a black out condition. Newton made a move toward the door and began to knock.
Bradley entered his home. The ordeal at the pub had not been part of his plan. Nevertheless, he was on a mission and he would complete it if it was the last thing he did on this earth.
Bradley entered his bedroom and rummaged around in his closet until he found a long leather sheath.
He strapped it to the belt tucking the rest of it in a hollowed out pocket of his black jeans so that it would not catch on anyone or anything as he ran through the streets.
Inside the sheath was a samurai sword that he had won as a trophy representing England in a Japanese skiing competition.
If things went according to plan, Bradley would have his way with his former employer in a short time.
He already knew where Kirkland lived, he just had to get back there and wait for an opportune time to execute his plan, and his former boss.
After adorning himself in a black leather jacket and similarly coloured ski mask, for Bradley the time was at hand.
He left his home and walked confidently down the street. After a time of meandering through London’s inner city, Bradley was at the apartments that housed Kirkland O’Flannery.
He stood outside the entrance and thought about what exactly to do next.
Bradley decided to enter the building and go straight to the apartment.
He climbed the stairs skillfully, with a confidence he had never seen in himself before. He was finally doing something worthwhile with his life as he saw it.
The moment of truth approached.
Bradley stood at the threshold of Kirkland’s home and knocked three times.