a better way through Christ. Be a Christian by example, but don’t preach it too loudly. The man you reach with the Gospel today might be killed by his own family tonight because of it.”
Serena nodded. It seemed strange to her that so many people found it necessary to suppress the truth. Islam was spreading into Europe at an ever-increasing rate. Much of the opposition to the Christian revival that was now spreading across the continent from west to east had come from the Islamic community. Certain factions had gone as far as to burn churches and kill ministers of the Gospel over it.
It was a nearly two-hour drive to the drill site. They passed the two fences and the checkpoint and headed onto company property. By the time they reached the well, the sun had reached the horizon. They pulled up to the well, its tower rising 100 feet over their heads. It was very quiet. Only noise from the number 15 well a mile across the valley broke the silence.
“We’ve stopped drilling for a few hours,” explained Will. “I gave the first shift the rest of the day off. Second shift won’t be here for another hour or so.”
The three made their way to the platform. Will took some time to explain how roughnecks drilled for oil. It was a tour that was of more interest to Chris than Serena. She was more interested in the spiritual manifestations that had invaded this place. She gazed down into the seemingly bottomless well casing; she listened, but heard nothing. But there was something else, something neither heard nor seen, but felt within her spirit. It was an uneasiness, the feeling that something very bad, yet very familiar, was near at hand, and it was down there.
“I’d like to show you the black liquid,” said Will. “I need to know if, well, you’re familiar with it.”
Serena’s face held an indeed odd countenance. Was it fear? Chris placed his arm around her.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Let’s see it. It’s what I’m here for. I’m the only one who will know for sure.”
“There was so much of it,” explained Will. “We didn’t know what to do with it. Some was sent off for analysis, but most of it ended up stored in 55-gallon drums over in the warehouse. I’ll drive you over there.”
The warehouse was only half a mile away. It was a large structure, actually, an old aircraft hangar. Daylight was fading as Will switched on the bright overhead lights. This place was filled with great stands of pipe, large wooden crates, heavy machinery, and near the back, at least 100 sealed 55-gallon drums. Will had already pried the lid of one of them loose. He walked ahead and opened that drum for inspection.
Serena cautiously approached, gazing down into the black liquid. The odor hit her; then her finger touched its surface. She almost immediately stumbled back. Chris had to grab her to prevent her from collapsing to the floor.
“Serena,” exclaimed Chris.
At first, she said nothing. Then she wrapped her arms around her husband and started to cry.
Immediately, Will placed the lid on the drum. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m sorry, Serena.”
“No,” replied Serena, “I had to know. That’s it; oil from the Great Sea of Fire.”
Chris looked into his wife’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, trying to get hold of her emotions. “Yes, I’m sure. The smell, the way it feels. Only, the last time I felt it, it was much hotter. Still, I know that’s it.”
“Sweet Lord Jesus,” murmured Will. “I can’t explain why what you wrote inyour book came to mind the first time I saw it. I’d read it years ago.”
“I’ll never forget that awful stuff,” said Serena, still clinging to Chris.
“I noticed that it doesn’t stick to your skin like oil,” said Will. “It was one of the first things I noticed about it. In that respect it’s almost like mercury.”
“More cohesive than adhesive,” noted Chris.
“Yeah, that’s what our
Serena nodded. It seemed strange to her that so many people found it necessary to suppress the truth. Islam was spreading into Europe at an ever-increasing rate. Much of the opposition to the Christian revival that was now spreading across the continent from west to east had come from the Islamic community. Certain factions had gone as far as to burn churches and kill ministers of the Gospel over it.
It was a nearly two-hour drive to the drill site. They passed the two fences and the checkpoint and headed onto company property. By the time they reached the well, the sun had reached the horizon. They pulled up to the well, its tower rising 100 feet over their heads. It was very quiet. Only noise from the number 15 well a mile across the valley broke the silence.
“We’ve stopped drilling for a few hours,” explained Will. “I gave the first shift the rest of the day off. Second shift won’t be here for another hour or so.”
The three made their way to the platform. Will took some time to explain how roughnecks drilled for oil. It was a tour that was of more interest to Chris than Serena. She was more interested in the spiritual manifestations that had invaded this place. She gazed down into the seemingly bottomless well casing; she listened, but heard nothing. But there was something else, something neither heard nor seen, but felt within her spirit. It was an uneasiness, the feeling that something very bad, yet very familiar, was near at hand, and it was down there.
“I’d like to show you the black liquid,” said Will. “I need to know if, well, you’re familiar with it.”
Serena’s face held an indeed odd countenance. Was it fear? Chris placed his arm around her.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Let’s see it. It’s what I’m here for. I’m the only one who will know for sure.”
“There was so much of it,” explained Will. “We didn’t know what to do with it. Some was sent off for analysis, but most of it ended up stored in 55-gallon drums over in the warehouse. I’ll drive you over there.”
The warehouse was only half a mile away. It was a large structure, actually, an old aircraft hangar. Daylight was fading as Will switched on the bright overhead lights. This place was filled with great stands of pipe, large wooden crates, heavy machinery, and near the back, at least 100 sealed 55-gallon drums. Will had already pried the lid of one of them loose. He walked ahead and opened that drum for inspection.
Serena cautiously approached, gazing down into the black liquid. The odor hit her; then her finger touched its surface. She almost immediately stumbled back. Chris had to grab her to prevent her from collapsing to the floor.
“Serena,” exclaimed Chris.
At first, she said nothing. Then she wrapped her arms around her husband and started to cry.
Immediately, Will placed the lid on the drum. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m sorry, Serena.”
“No,” replied Serena, “I had to know. That’s it; oil from the Great Sea of Fire.”
Chris looked into his wife’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she replied, trying to get hold of her emotions. “Yes, I’m sure. The smell, the way it feels. Only, the last time I felt it, it was much hotter. Still, I know that’s it.”
“Sweet Lord Jesus,” murmured Will. “I can’t explain why what you wrote inyour book came to mind the first time I saw it. I’d read it years ago.”
“I’ll never forget that awful stuff,” said Serena, still clinging to Chris.
“I noticed that it doesn’t stick to your skin like oil,” said Will. “It was one of the first things I noticed about it. In that respect it’s almost like mercury.”
“More cohesive than adhesive,” noted Chris.
“Yeah, that’s what our
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