Fading away from empty void, Mohammed slowly saw light shrug his vision, blindingly. He saw himself sink into his body and his spirit compress to mortality. He rolled over on his side and shook painfully in response. He groaned.
He had been admitted to the general hospital of the Kaura region. He was slowly gaining consciousness. The florescent flickered repeatedly. His vision dimed.
The room was moderately dressed and occupied with a table, chair and a window that revealed the busy city.
"You are awake," the cold words of doctors dotted his mind.
He looked around some more and asked where he was. His mind tried coming to terms with this reality, probing all he had seen and all that had happened.
"You have been unconscious for three days," the doctor continued, "but thank goodness you are back."
Mohammed at this locked gaze with the doctor. His heart rate had suddenly busted to new heights of wrath and he could tell the rage he felt was triggered by what he heard.
"There is no goodness to thank, no goodness but the Christ," he said in a whisper, his eyes still fixed on the doctor who quickly dismissed, informing him of waiting visitors.
Mohammed's gaze still stayed on him, watching his every move and muttering to himself, lower than can be heard, "there is nothing as goodness. There is the Christ."
The doctor sensed anger. He ignored, settling every necessary IV, mechanical medical aide and treatment. Again, he locked gaze with Mohammed.
The situation intensified.
He felt the environment, that is, the hospital room intently influence how he handled syringe, IV, and carried out the operation of checking Mohammed. But for a moment, it was though he had left this place to a pit of fire. He saw himself buried in a pool of blood and a cloud of fire, tormented by what came from his mouth. He was hypnotized.
He hurriedly pulled from the gaze and left the room, leaving the nurse behind. He alerted the nurses at the reception and hurried to his office. The nurse understood and immediately escorted to Mohammed's room His Holiness, the leadership of the State Christian Association.
The door closed behind her as she made way back to her station.
Shortly after she arrived, a loud shout erupted form the room she had just left. An elderly man cried, painfully. Then an abrupt loud bang sprung and silence fell. The door opened. Mohammed stepped out.
-----
After Christian leaders entered Mohammed's room, before the scream.
Bishop David Dalung, state leader of the Christian Association was the first to enter the room. He was clothed in robe, and carried his bible on his right-hand, pressed against his right breast. He held with his left hand the cross, which he held as he processed.
"Reverend Mohammed," he started, smiling as he positioned to stand before Mohammed. He handed over the bible and the cross to an aide that stood beside him. He was smiling, so were other members of the envoy, looking excited, grateful that he survived.
"How are you feeling?" Ibrahim started, probing as he let his hand check his body temperature.
Mohammed kept his eyes on him, saying nothing. He was part of the procession that killed his family and raided Kaura.
He is part of the corruption that misled the church, that refused to help when death struck. He instead partook in the ritual that finally killed all living from the north, Mohammed was lost in thoughts.
Mohammed wouldn't even smile to lighten the mood. He was mute the entire time.
"I am grateful to the responders who brought you in at the time. And to the doctors, they are really skilled," David said. Continuing, he said, "I am sure you will be up and running in no time"
Mohammed felt the rage burn again.
"You can't be grateful to men and not be grateful to God," Mohammed started, muttering with locked gaze. David couldn't make out all of what he said but was certain war brewed.
"Give thanks to God and the Christ," Mohammed challenged, loud enough for David to hear.
"I always give thanks to the Lord," David returned with a smile.
"I think this time," he continued, "we should be grateful for the strength and resourcefulness of the doctors and first responders, the government who made this facility available and the tax payers that funded it "--
"Give Christ the glory"--
Mohammed interrupted. The rage engineered.
"Do it now." Mohammed ordered, "give Christ the glory."
David laughed, turning around to the cold laughter of others.
"Do it!" Mohammed roared. "Do it!"
His roar shook the entire room and trembled everyone within it.
One tried to the door, panting, sorely scared. Instantly, he felt his legs stick in the ground. This was happening in the physical.
Mohammed had taken a new form. He felt his thoughts control the conditions of the room, atmospheric temperature, the breeze and lights.
When he rose his hand and folded his palm into a fist, the temperature of the men in the room rose, their neck tightened under the grip of his squeezing palm.
"You will give Christ the glory or you will die." He muttered.
Everyone was struggling to breathe or speak. He didn't care that they wanted to give Christ the glory. This was their end as far as he was concerned. They had slain his family as burnt offering. They didn't deserve to live.
They served the devil and didn't lead the church as Christians and followers of the Christ, he thought.
He had been intoxicated by raw power, and for a brief moment felt the presence of the Christ. He saw him smile down on him. That was all the approval he needed.
Mohammed clicked his left hand and felt the heart of the Reverend David explode. He shouted bitterly and painfully as he took his last breathe.
He clicked again and a loud bang erupted from the ground underneath were they stood, burying all that visited.
Silence returned.
On the chest of everyone that visited was the symbol of the faith, the star and horns. That was the conviction he needed. They were evil and his mandate was to purge the world of these.
"In you I am well pleased," the voice of the Christ started.
"I have given you the power to trample upon serpent and scorpion. You will fight for me and restore the faith to the Christ. You will proceed to the west and you will destroy them all for the glory of the Christ."
At this, silence returned.
Mohammed stepped out of the bed. He disconnected the needle that passed IV fluid into him. He sensed the tension in the air, and looking out the window, he saw everyone in the hospital tremble at what happened.
He opened the door, stepping out. Down this corridor was the doctor's office.
He muttered to himself, "there is no goodness to thank, no goodness but the Christ."
He could see the doctor. He was scrambling over his phone trying to call for emergency help.
"Open your mouth and I will fill it," the Christ whispered to Mohammed.
Mohammed smiled.
"Doctor Ryan John, die." He said, turning his back on the corridor as he walked away.
Doctor John felt his hands shivering. The phone had become too heavy for him to lift. He tried pushing the buttons on the key pad but suddenly felt the buttons tear against his palm.
Blood poured.
Strange spikes poisoned him and for a moment he felt a thick cloud choke him.
He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
He froze in his current posture, falling to the ground. There were whispers repeating a phrase to his hearing. The voice was very familiar. He had heard the wordings before and understood what must be done to be saved. As he struggled to speak and fulfil the order that was asked of him, he felt his every being refuse. He was frozen in time. He felt the judgement manifest in his soul as his heart slowed to a stop, forcing his spirit off his body.
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