Page 42 of Go Alone

He wondered if Kate was among them. Certainly it was possible. If Kate knew where he was, then she would abandon everything to find him and bring him in.

He doubted it, though. She would be focused on stopping his disciple. There were no signs of his location in Columbus, and his disciple didn’t know where he was. This one had never even seen him in person.

Another crack of thunder rumbled across the sky. The hair on the back of Cox’s neck stood, and for a frightening moment, he feared lighting would strike one of the trees near him and reach a tendril of electricity out to stop his heart as he had stopped Obadiah’s.

Be strong and of good courage.

He repeated these words to himself as he ran, even saying them aloud when he heard the bark of a dog and knew the officers weren’t going to allow him an easy escape.

The dog barked again, and Cox veered off the path, rushing into the thickest portion of the woods behind Obadiah’s farm. Branches scraped at his face while rain continued to beat down on his head with the force of hailstones.

Actually, they were hailstones. Small ones, the size of cloves, but large enough to sting when they hit. They gathered on the ground, swiftly carpeting the dark Earth with white. Though it was early afternoon, the canopy and the thundercloud overhead dimmed the light so the white appeared a washed-out grey, the mist floating around the looming shadows of the trees.

His feet slipped, and he came down hard, crying out as pain shot through his left side. Fear speared him again. Had he torn something? Had he reopened the wounds left by Marcus Reid’s bullets? Had he inflicted upon himself some new injury?

Move.

The command was delivered in his voice but with the weight of the Holy Spirit. Cox was on his feet and stumbling through the trees before his feet registered the decision. Fire licked through his body, but he kept moving, the baying of the hounds motivating him as he fled.

A rustling sound behind nearly elicited another cry from him, but he pressed his lips together and reminded himself once more to have courage.

The dog barked again, closer this time. He resisted an urge to turn around and gauge the distance, but he knew if he did that, the delay would allow the dog to reach him. He couldn’t hear human voices, so he was still safe for now.

Lightning crashed, and this time, a buzzing ran through Cox’s skin. A hundred feet to his right, a tree burst into flames and fell, releasing sour black smoke as the rain rapidly put out the fire.

More hail fell, slower but heavier, grape-sized stones that drew blood from his scalp when they glanced off of him. A direct hit risked knocking him out, so he put both hands over his head.

A yelp behind him told him that one of the dogs had suffered such a hit. He prayed that God would strike the animal down and allow him a chance to breathe. The Holy Spirit urged him to focus on his task and allow God to handle the circumstances.

A branch cracked behind him, and this time when the dog barked, a human voice joined it. Cox couldn’t tell what the voice said, but he knew they were gaining on him. He couldn’t be sure they knew who he was, but they knew that someone had stabbed Obadiah MacCready to death and fled into the woods.

He wondered if he should have left Obadiah alive. He’d killed the man for fear he would give Cox up to the police. Obadiah was intelligent and loyal, but intelligence often ran contrary to loyalty. Smart men questioned their leaders, and if Obadiah answered those questions a certain way, he might tell the law all about Cox’s plans.

That was his mistake. Not killing Obadiah but telling him things that required his death. He should have hidden everything dangerous from him and left him nothing he could say to endanger Cox.

Fear lanced through him again, accompanied by a fresh stab of pain from his restressed wounds. Was God punishing him for his mistake? Was he going to allow Cox to languish in prison for endangering Obadiah?

His fear hardened to panic, but he forced himself to stay calm as he prayed silently, Lord, please forgive me. I was weak and lonely, and I sought companionship from man instead of from God. I placed his life in danger not understanding what I was doing. Please forgive me and give me another chance to serve you.

His foot slipped, and this time, he went all the way to the ground, landing face-first and rolling onto his back, then sliding downward. Dark mud filled his eyes, the scent of manure and fungus filled his eyes. Acrid Earth soured his tongue, and twigs and stones and roots tore at his clothing as he descended the slope.

Panic finally seized him. He flailed and opened his mouth to scream.

Frigid water flooded him. Were it not for his instinct to expel his breath, he would have inhaled enough to drown him. As it was, he managed to poke his head above the water just long enough to take a single breath before the current dragged him under again.

He curled into a fetal position and covered his face while the stream, driven to frenzy by the storm, hurled him along. He struck a root, bruising his arms, then spun around and dragged his back along the riverbed. Stones tore at his shirt, but he didn’t resist. Intervention here would only kill him. He closed his eyes and gave himself to God.

The moment he did so, the water stilled. He dropped several more feet, then floated back to the surface. When his head broke water, he gasped again, then looked around.

He was in a large pond, its surface roiling from the force of thick, heavy raindrops falling straight down into the water. The hail had ended, and the wind died to a soft breeze. He looked behind and saw the stream flowing into the pond down a short waterfall. Lightning rolled across the sky, but it was several seconds before soft thunder reached his ears.

The storm had moved on. There were no dogs and no sheriff’s officers chasing him. God had made His point and allowed His servant to escape to safety.

Cox unfurled himself and swam for the edge of the pond. His side spasmed, but he breathed deeply and said a prayer, and the pain subsided.

He reached the edge and crawled out, shivering and gasping. He would need shelter and warmth soon, or he would suffer hypothermia.

But he was free. He was still weak but not so weak as he was a few months before. Soon, he would be ready to finish the task for which God had created him. In the meantime, he would trust God to provide for his needs.