Stepping into the open, Mohammed could tell that a lot had changed. He was a prominent Christian leader and was well respected in settlements in and around Kaura. However, he passed invisible.
This hospital was some five hours away from his home, but for some reason he didn't feel the need to board a vehicle, but rather to trek the entire distance. The strength of immortality waxed in him.
As he walked, he heard the thoughts of they that were around and listened to the intent of their heart.
He blinked and the sun faded under the covering of a passing cloud.
"I will battle for the Christ and I will save his church from the conquer of evil."
He spoke in a silent whisper what resonated to the heavens as a raging roar. He started across the road and for a brief moment there was tremor on the earth.
"You, stop right there!" A voce started, racing from behind.
He stopped, turned in the direction of where the voice came. He clicked his finger and smiled, continuing on his way. The police officer who initially advanced towards him withered on the spot.
It was as though the continence of his heart controlled the physical world around him. Everything that was, happened to his pleasure.The sun vanished, the cloud cleared. Above him was empty void and for him it suddenly began to rain. It rained dust.
As the dust fell to the earth, it mixed with the sand and the water and the rocks and the air. It shook the earth and gutted fire that raged a heavy cloud of smoke across the land. After some moments the cloud wiped away and the sun restored and the cloud returned to their place. But standing at attention and forming a shield around him was an army created by his thoughts and the firmaments.
"Prepare yourself. They have come to battle you," the Christ spoke.
He smiled, and refusing to advance, he awaited the assault.
From where he stood he saw his home and the remains of destruction. He stayed, waiting on the strike, surrounded by soldiers of heavenly order, awaiting an order.
The sounds of siren echoed from the distance. He felt his body preternaturally transform into a fighting machine.
There was only one way that led into the district where he was. He alongside a host of demons stood in line, awaiting mortal formation for battle.
Materializing from the shadows in full force of military trucks was a complete platoon. He was now standing before the only way that led to where he was. Over thirty soldiers had scattered around their trucks, now calling for reinforcements. What they met was beyond what they anticipated.
"This is no joke, this is the might of the armed forces resident in this state," the Christ spoke silently, but continuing, he said, "if the Christ be for you, who shall be against you?"
"Call for an attack," the Christ said, and ordering as he was told, the full strength of mystical forces attacked with sword, earth, wind and fire.
"Reverend Mohammed," a commander started from behind an armoured personnel vehicle.
He chuckled, waiting on the commander.
"You are under arrest. Remain where you are with your hands in the air. If you have any weapon, this is the time to disarm."
More soldiers poured out of personnel carriers, but were eliminated almost immediately they advanced further away from their vehicle.
"Listen," the Christ ordered.
He stopped and concentrated his hearing. It was as though their radio was opened in his mind. He heard every word of instruction and knew what moves were about to be made. They wanted him alive. He smiled.
Reinforcement came but over four hundred soldiers had died.
He ordered and his celestial army withered, exposing him to the capture of the Nigerian army.
"Get down now," an order came.
The soldiers slowly advanced towards him. He clicked his fingers and the battle field changed.
A gush of mighty wind tossed soldiers off balance and his celestial forces invaded for the kill.
Soldiers fired at will, launching bombs and grenades at what struck, battling with mortal ammo an immortal force that littered from on high.
They had fought forces invisible, died from the persisting invocation of supernatural dimensions. There was no calling for backup. Their connection had jammed. After minutes of fighting, an army of over two thousand soldiers had reduced to its last three.
"There is the last three," the Christ started.
"They are yours," he continued.
"Kneel them before you, and through him send a message to the church."
In a not too far distance, he saw shielded by armed body guards, the commander, a Lieutenant Colonel.
Mohammed projected to now stand before them. Looking into the eyes of the commander, he heard fear speak. His voice shivered in repentant submission, muttering in unknown tongue. He knew what it implied, a culture of Pentecostal Christianity.
"One eternal foe," the Christ started at him.
"One man will carry your message to the churches of the south. One man will prepare them for the manifestation of death."
Mohammed nodded in response to the Christ. His eyes stayed fixed and his mind probed deeper into the guards. The guards, shivering in response, stayed on their knees, not sure of how to plead.
Both were veterans of Sambisa, members of government elite killer squad involved in the elimination of innocent civilians, suspected to be members of the dreaded Boko Haram terrorist organization. Looking on at them, he spoke to their soul and burnt what was left of their inner man.
They juddered in response, praying and pleading, but this was the end of it. Blood flowed as they breathed their last.
"Rise at once," Mohammed ordered the commander to his feet.
He stood, sorely afraid.
"This is your message to the church," Mohammed continued.
"Tell them the end is near. The wrath of the Christ is come."
At this he ordered once more and watched the commander race away from his sight.
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