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Summary
Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and keep the things that are written in it, for the time is at hand. (Revelation 1:3)
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It turned out that Jack had been right to rebuild the house, that early morning when the walls went tumbling down. It wasn't lamb, ram or sheep horns that had begun to blow, nor trumpets that had begun to sound.
Reverend Joseph Sanderson had commanded the children to shout, the figurehead whose rhetoric was the culmination of fulmination about abomination from sea to shining See. And the mob, baying, with truck bombs, not torches, and P90s, not pitchforks, had come over the hills.
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