The hoodie hadn’t been enough of a disguise. They had found him.
“Formations! Delta!” came a voice from behind him.
Luke turned. The man who struck him was larger than the other four. They
began forming a circle around Luke.
To his right, he spotted a Bibleopolis news van. A cameraman was recording
everything.
“Fuck, that rattled me too,” the puppet said.
“How are we getting out of this?” Luke asked.
Before the puppet could answer, the church doors creaked open.
Father Mason stepped outside.
“What is going on here?” he asked the preacher at the top of the steps.
“This doesn’t concern you,” the large preacher told him. “Go back inside.”
“This is happening on my church’s front steps,” Father Mason said. “It
does concern me. You are beating a man on holy ground.”
“The steps,” the preacher said, punching the priest in the chest, “are
only holy if I say they are.”
His fist went through Father Mason’s chest like it was nothing. Blood
dripped from his arm as he retracted it from the priest’s chest.
The preacher shook it off, splattering the steps in red.
“Oh,” the priest said softly. His eyes wide open, shocked that a preacher
would ever actually hurt someone.
He collapsed and rolled down the steps, coming to rest beside Luke and the
puppet.