BLOG TABLOID: September 2008

Chapter On Three Prayers. Angel Of The Lord (Part 20) Novel By Jose R. Leveriza II

PREVIOUSLY:

PLEASE CLICK THIS FOR PART 18 THE FIRST PRAYER

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR PART 19 THE SECOND PRAYER

T H E T H I R D P R A Y E R

Mystery You reveal through Einstein geniuses in history

Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, the Google Twins of online connectivity

Godlike knowledge You bequeath for all men on planet earth

Honed in Your Image You favor them to live beyond its limits

Galaxies, constellations, and vast uncharted celestial frontiers

Promised Lands in space You roll out from no end to no end

Angels and men in voyagers that fragment and form digitally

Their purest spirits structuralize with matter to exist virtually

Catholics are right when they remain steadfast to defend Pro Life

The billions of lives will not be enough to carry out Your Charge

Across time zones and life spans men must learn how to project

Feet of clay and genetic engineering find the twain can meet

“My vest, somebody bring me the vest”, the President waved back as he ran to his armored Suburban SUV. One member of the security detail huffing right behind split away quickly. Another pressed the radio to give instructions to base to facilitate the task.

The President pulled out his .45 Gold Cup which glinted with gunmetal polish in the afternoon sun. He checked the chamber as he ran doing it with a studied precision characteristic of an expert marksman. He felt for the two extra magazines which weighed down in each side of his pants pockets. President Harry Sey never left home without them.

It was legend that he could shoot three Coke bottles flung simultaneously skyward like skeet discs. He was adroit with both gun arms and can splinter them in the air with double barrels from a quick draw reach from both sides. Once a bunch of crazed drunken military men gave him a gun salute like fireworks and emptied their guns in the air after he performed the feat for them. It served better than a shootout as he promised the ring leader he will see him in heaven as the first bullet was earmarked for him. The chastised bandit made the mistake of challenging him, “show me you can shoot first.” The young man did and how. The group pulled away cheering him and left the jeepload of female travelers alone. The lone driver bodyguard his father assigned to protect him in that long drive to Bicol peed in his pants. Before that, he nearly fainted when the future President screeched the car to a stop when he saw what was going on.

Coup d’ tats and the threats of armed power grabs did not faze him. “They just better shoot straighter,” he always liked to say. “I will outshoot their subalterns when they come barging in. Then I will come after the masterminds and make them pay for their sins. I will shoot them with fragmentation bullets so they won’t have long to suffer. This country they try to drive to the ground will embrace them six feet under.”

He had another failing aside from being vainly dapper. He had a short fuse and tried to temper it with magnanimity even back in his youth. When he said, “give me now my Armageddon,” when faced with the specter of evil in its wanton state, he only meant he will not stand idly by to let it wreak its course without challenge. “I live my life from day to day for that one chance in a million. When I can offer my own as the price for righteousness and be God’s extension.”

He was no martyr and did not intend to take any crap. He armed himself and practiced in the target range till he felt out of whack. He loved guns and thought they were the doomsday onus. How many bad men you can take with you to the other life is the added bonus.

The driver was gunning the engine of the Presidential Chevrolet with number one (1) plate as Harry jumped in beside him. The security escort tried to stay him to sit at the back to no avail as the front door slammed on his face. “Go,” he commanded sharply but was a second too late. The Chevy jumped and preempted him with all pistons blazing.

It lurched with the G forces and spun wheeled onto the main driveway from the concave.

A flustered security aide clambered to the back up vehicle following closely behind with the bullet proof vest.

“Noel,” the bristling head of state bleeped on the car radio back to the chief of staff remembering his most important guest. “Make sure you explain to her painstakingly. Tell her Ellebana’s caught in the middle of a shootout. Tell her it’s a life and death family emergency.”

The motorcycle escorts scrambled to catch up with the caroming black SUV. Their wailing sirens made eerie echoes at the back like a hightail pursuit. The Palace sentries at the main gate leveled their rifles and shooed away pedestrians and other motorists to clear the way. Before their startled open mouths, the racing caravan zoomed past in a mad pace.

“Gunfire, shots fired,” a twisted image flashed on the blue screen of the overhead monitor mounted above the dash. The President pitched in his seat feeling a punch ram his solar plexus. He fumbled for his gun again and gripped it with tension. “Where, dammit tell me where?” Harry pleaded with supplication like an agonizing prayer. “Taft Avenue, 20 meters from the hospital, bodies lay strewn on the street.” The answer came back with ominous tones the President dreaded to hear.