A children's choir sang 'The Sun has got his Hat on' on the radio as the grey Chrysler van sped along the freeway toward Dulles Airport.
“Right gentlemen, the jet should be waiting–ready to go,” said Cardinal Canale to the other men sitting beside him in the front.
Suddenly there was a thump behind them.
“What the...?” said the man driving as he looked in his rear-view mirror.
A dark shape welled up and smashed through the steel mesh which separated the front passenger's area from the rear of the van. The body of Michael Manzi, now with head back in an upright position, snarled as it grabbed the head of the driver and tugged back.
Canale and the other man howled as the van veered across two lanes and was clipped by a pickup truck hurtling along the inside lane. The van toppled off the lane and up the verge at the side of the freeway. Stopping upright, it rolled down ending up on the flat area next to the inside lane.
After a moment the rear doors flew open and Manzi jumped out. He gazed along the buzzing freeway with dead eyes, then he looked up the verge. A figure stood on the crest staring at him with a full-length jacket which flapped in the wind.
“Ironic, isn't it?” Thomson asked.
“What?” Manzi grunted.
“Well, you exorcising all those demons, now you have one of the worst in your body!”
Manzi glowered at Thomson. “What do you want?”
“You're to find the Antichrist, Baumann, and join him. You're to be a leader of the Dark Army.
“What about them?” Manzi asked turning toward the damaged vehicle.
“Let them burn!” said Thomson as the vehicle burst into flames.
A burning figure crawled out of the open passenger's door, rolled over on the grass to extinguish the flames and stared into Thomson's red eyes before passing out.
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