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Chapter 3
The physician administered oxygen to Her Grace. Her Grace needed rest. She had no time to rest. She motioned with a flap of her left hand that she had enough oxygen.
Then she spoke, her eyes burning bright with the glory of God. She projected such power, even from her wheelchair. The acolytes all knew her story and reveled in it. She was the eighth sister. She had been forced to fly back to the States because of a death in the family, leaving the other sisters, the priests, and the few doctors in the compound 150 miles from Johannesburg. The compound was a place of worship, healing, and death. AIDS killed quickly in Africa. There was not money, medicine, or enough skilled care.
After the funeral, she hurried back to rejoin the other sisters and the priests. She wanted to heal and comfort. The others had tried to heal and comfort and interfere in the Lord’s retribution. Because of this, god had punished them. The locals, full of blood frenzy, crazy with native beer, ganja, and anger over their plight, hacked the priests to death with long knives, then raped and killed the sisters and doctors.
Her Grace was punished as well. She was punished for the sin of pride. She was punished for not seeing the signs her Lord wanted her to see. As Her Grace drove to the airport, hurrying to make her flight back to Africa, the rental car hydroplaned on rain-slick pavement and hit the bridge-abutment. The injuries should have killed her, but they simply paralyzed her from the neck down. Then, because she needed more than her glorious voice to do the Lord’s work, some feeling came back in her left hand.
Her savior made sure Her Grace was sufficiently motivated. Back in Africa, during a follow-up operation, one of the units of blood she received during a transfusion was tainted with the virus. After one of her many near death experiences, God spoke to her in a vision. AIDS and other viruses were not an enemy to be fought, but the sword of God to punish drug abuse, homosexuality and sexual promiscuity. She made it her life’s work to help her God deliver his punishment.
A hush went through the acolytes. Her Grace was again ready to speak. Her words were soft, but filled the hall as if it had been designed to carry her voice. It had been. Her sweet voice rang out as if a song from an angel on high.
“God has spoken to me again. We have fought a valiant battle, but our enemies are too strong, and the people not ready to hear the truth, even with help from churches here in America.”
The acolytes listened and were stunned by her glory and the beauty of God’s plan. This time they would not be stopped. Some were fearful. The acolytes yelled and stomped their feet, excited in their quest to stop the misguided ones who would interfere with their savior’s work.
She let their applause wash over her, giving her strength, committing the sin of pride for just a few seconds before she shushed them. They prayed together. When their prayers finished, one of her guards slipped a mask over his face, stepped forward and wheeled her from the room. The acolytes were quiet. They had never seen Her Grace this angry. It was something they did not want to experience again, even if though the anger was not aimed at them. The acolytes thanked their great but merciless God for this. She was not the one they should have been afraid of.