Free Gift of Revelation by Robert Fleming Page B

to make mass arrests, and two gas stations were torched and began bellowing plumes of black smoke. In this chaos, soldiers fired live ammo, the shots ringing out in a series of booms.
    â€œWe’re out of here!” Elsa started sprinting in the direction from whence we had come. “Keep your head down!”
    I followed her as she dashed through the frightened mob, the protesters running frantically in different directions. The firing of live ammo continued with a rat-rat-rat-tat-tat. It was coming from the group of trucks on the side of the security forces. The living trampled the dead.
    Elsa flagged down some friends in a bullet-pocked van. We climbed into the van and squeezed between the wounded protesters who were cowering between the seats. The van sped down narrow side streets, past police checkpoints, to the hotel.

10
    TOO EARLY TO LEAVE
    Drained from the experience of the protest, I staggered into my room, my heart pounding like a Zulu war drum, my mouth dry, my legs without strength. Elsa followed me into my room, overcome by what she had just witnessed. A damnable slaughter! A government massacre! She immediately cut on the radio and tuned it to a pirate station that was broadcasting about the protest. The man reading the newscast had a deep baritone voice. She translated his words for me as I put on some water for tea.
    â€œToday’s protests occurred in Khartoum, Omdurman, Burri, Al-Daim, El Obeid, and Sennar. The police and soldiers used extreme force during the clashes with protesters,” the announcer intoned. “The marchers attacked the security forces with sticks and rocks, but they proved no match for the tear gas and live bullets. A large number of protesters were seriously injured, and many were killed, among them students and activists. The government has not released any list of the wounded or dead.”
    Elsa sat on a chair facing the window and lit a cigarette before checking on our friends in the street below. “We still have company. I’m not surprised that they haven’t arrested us.”
    â€œGive them time,” I wisecracked.
    The BBC reporter motioned for me to cut the radio up, putting a hand to her ear. “An official with Amnesty International said the authorities must rein in the security forces to prevent them from using such excessive force, which is in violation of international law. He added that firearms should not be used to disperse demonstrations under the law. Also, he called on the government to launch an impartial investigation into the protests, to ensure that those who were responsible for such a loss of life be brought to justice.”
    Elsa roared with laughter, saying that it was a crock. “Nothing will be done. Reverend, you did all right out there. I thought you would panic and start to run, but you didn’t. Proud of you.”
    I smiled weakly and continued making the tea. I didn’t feel heroic.
    â€œYou don’t have anything stronger than this tea,” she said, frowning at the cups. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?”
    â€œNo, I don’t.” I watched her smoke with her head thrown back.
    â€œReverend, I don’t buy this religious tripe,” she said. “Jesus or Allah. In my life, I’ve seen so much misery and suffering caused by religion. Look at the Middle East. Look at this place here. I know you believe, but everything in this world cries, ‘No, there is no God.’”
    I poured the hot tea into a cup for myself. “I’ve run into nonbelievers before. You’ll never believe. You have a closed mind. That means you will dismiss everything that does not fit into your belief system.”
    â€œYou’re wrong there,” she protested.
    â€œI don’t think so. If you can’t see it, then you don’t believe. You’re prejudiced against religion. No amount of investigation of the facts would convince you of the existence of Jesus. Or even