Wildfire: The End of the Road

By Marty Delmon

Dempsey, Bart and Jazz live dissimilar lives, yet are irresistibly
drawn together into a web of purposes beyond their
own. They accomplish the humanly impossible. None of
them ever dreamed of doing what they did yet when they
put their feet on the path they knew they had found their destiny.
Learning to use the powe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Feb 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640881402

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements 7

Cast of Characters 9

Back Story 13

Prologue 15

Let the Games Begin 23

Strategies: One 45

Strategies: Two 59

Escalation 79

Let the War Begin 115

Digging the Trenches 153

The Enemy Strikes Back 181

Revival: Part One 203

Revival: Part Two 229

Revival: Part Three 239

Revival: Part Four 257

Revival: Part Five 271

The Reno Revival 289

Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to my family; the most fabulous people I know! My son Jeff, my daughter Jolie, my daughter in law Vicky, My granddaughters Brittany, Victoria, Madison and Natasha, and my grandson Alex. These are the folks who support me no matter what. Thank you for being such pure spirits full of love.

Cast of Characters

Michael

Cherubim, Seraphim, Messenger Angels, Ambassador Angels, Clarity Angels, Healing Angels, Praise Angels, Worshipping Angels, Guardian Angels, Wind of Change, Serving Angels, Special Forces Angels: Mark, Ward, Judy.

Satan

Jealousy, Lying, Familiar, Perverse, Whoredom, Heaviness, Infirmity, Deaf and Dumb, Fear, Pride, Bondage and Anti-Christ: the twelve demonic disciples.

Competition, first lieutenant of Jealousy. Religion, first lieutenant of Lying. New Age, first lieutenant of Familiar. Lust, Lesbianism, Gossip, first lieutenants of Perverse. Media, first lieutenant of Whoredom. Hopelessness, Low Self-Esteem, first lieutenants of Heaviness. Sickness, Disease, first lieutenants of Infirmity. Suicides, Murders, first lieutenants of Deaf and Dumb. Torment, Terror, Inferiority, Inadequacy, Nightmares, Fear of..., first lieutenants of Fear. Self-Righteousness, Selfishness, Domineering, Fighting, Wrath, Contentions, first lieutenants of Pride. Addicted to..., first lieutenant of Bondage. Spirit of Anti-Christ, first lieutenant of Anti-Christ.

Territorial demons, PRTB = Power over Reno and the Tahoe Basin, PKC = Power over Kansas City. Harassing spirits. Broken Heart demons. Imps. Flame-throwers.

Angel Mark

Special Forces Angel assigned to:

Dempsey

Professional Golfer

Clinton Snyder: childhood friend.

Max Snyder: Clint’s grandfather and Dempsey’s mentor.

Bruno Davenport: Dempsey’s father.

Elizabeth Davenport: Dempsey’s mother.

Jack Davenport: Dempsey’s brother.

Doug Beacham: Owner of The Doug Beacham Golf Tour.

Dr. Allen: Dempsey’s surgeon.

Don Friend: member of the board of the Sand Basin Golf Club.

Susan Templar: Dempsey’s friend.

Milton: Dorm Dad for Dempsey’s dormitory of boys.

Joe, Vinnie, Billy, Barry: Boys in the dormitory.

Jimmie Vail: Reno/Tahoe Basin drug lord.

Angel Ward

Special Forces Angel assigned to:

Bart

Cowboy Turned Pastor

Tillie Ryder: girlfriend, pastor’s wife.

Sloan Lamont: member of the board of Sand Basin Golf Club, member of the board of His Triumphant Church.

Dr. Bolding: Bart’s surgeon.

Karen: head of the Pastor’s Intercession Group.

Beverly Hilliard: secretary to Pastor Bart.

Jack Fragomeni: chairman of the Commission of Casino Owners.

Angel Judy

Special Forces Angel assigned to:

Jazz

An Abandoned Woman, a Rage-a-holic

Patricia: assistant to director of Rejoicing in Recovery.

Dwight: director of Rejoicing in Recovery.

Cordie Cumisky: member of Rejoicing in Recovery, owner of the Six Bits Café.

Margaret: employee of Six Bits Café.

Nelson Randall: member of Rejoicing in Recovery, owner of The Horseman’s Casino.

Rita Maxwell: owner of a TV station.

Frank LaRocca: owner of largest casino in Reno.

Monsieur Gregoire Gauthier: large contributor to drug rehabilitation in Reno.

The Mayor: of Reno, Nevada.

Clifford: the Mayor’s son.

Victoria Rigby: the Cumisky’s attorney.

Harold Meadors: the attorney for the State of Nevada.

Back Story

God

What will it take to make The Last Great Revival? God has His challenges in bringing true revival to the earth. If man knew how to do it, we would have had global renewal long ago. That’s God’s biggest headache: how to keep man out of the details! Revivals become short moves of God. Short because man moved in and claimed it as his own, which curtailed the move. We know The Last Great Revival must come before the Return of Christ. How can it possibly happen? If the Greed of men, the Pride of men, the Rage of men are allowed to dominate God’s work, how can The Last Great Revival be brought to the earth?

Michael

Michael has a job nobody wants: he commands all the angels of heaven. They say there are 20,000 angels for every human on the earth. That makes about 120,000,000,000 angels to organize and put to work. Of course he has hierarchy and his commands go down the ranks, until something special comes along, and then he puts his own hand in. Something like The Last Great Revival on the earth will require his personal attention.

Satan

He cannot read the mind of God, but he can certainly watch the angelic activity and second guess their movements. Since his job in heaven was to be the right arm to Jesus, like Michael is the right arm of God the Father, Lucifer (or Satan) knows the ways of the angels. He is a deadly adversary! He knows the Church is now the right arm of Jesus.

His feverish goal is to thwart the plans, purposes, and pursuits of God, which are all intentioned toward man. Therefore, the human race is the devil’s target. He must keep us from our individual and corporate destiny so that the Master Plan of God dies in its infancy. He has been pretty consistent in his success.

As for The Last Great Revival, yes he knows about it. To his mind, this revival must never, ever take place. As evidence presents itself that there are three that God is grooming, he initiates his counter-attack. And so our story begins.

Prologue

Steal, Kill, Destroy: One

The clarion call clearly came: get to The Lair. Every Strongman stopped the interview, the research, the torture, whatever project he plied in his hand and got there. Whether coming from the farthest ends of the earth or simply ascending floors in the Lair, all arrived instantly before the throne. No one checked with their neighbor, not even with their eyes. That behavior vanished eons ago. Fixing their vision on the belt buckle of the imperious one, extending their periphery vision to capture the mood rippling across his face, the Strongmen locked their necks in slightly curved obeisance.

From his throne, one leg thrown insolently over the carved bone armrest, his haughty voice trumpeted. Where are the signs I asked for? Silence fairly crackled in the great hall. We have three years to make that April fool in heaven a laughingstock once again, and what do I see? He flashed his belt buckle at all twelve devotees. Seeing the images flip from one territory on the earth to another, they visibly sighed with relief. Those were the domains of the Ruling Powers. Perhaps they had been summoned to punish the RPs.

Then the buckle journeyed through their domains: Jealousy, Lying, Familiar, Perverse, Whoredom, Heaviness, Infirmity, Deaf and Dumb, Fear, Pride, Bondage, and Anti-Christ—the names and dominions of all twelve disciples of the most ungodly ruler possible: Satan. Terror struck, but no one moved. Centuries of pain had formed their response. He stood, roaring as he did so, Can you see what I see? Nothing! There is nothing new on that screen! Where are the strategies?

He strode across the floor, breathing heavily on them as he passed. Your old tricks won’t get us what we want. We’re in a race to win! We’re in a race of time! We’re not here to capture a few! He calls His conquests a harvest. We call ours destruction! But the goal’s the same. Get the soul. Then we butcher it! Destroy the soul! Steal! Kill! Destroy! When He brings this to a close, I want more than He’s got! Do you understand me? With that, he wheeled around so that his robe flared about his spindly legs.

Yes, magnificent one, murmured all twelve.

Then do it! he shouted. Jealousy, send your man Competition. Devise new ways to make people hate each other. Come up with something tantalizing! Get the whole world involved. He clunked Jealousy’s head with the heavy jewels on his fingers.

Lying, put that guy Religion in the middle of this Judaism, Islam, Christianity confrontation and plant some effective lies. How hard can that be? It’s the same old game, but give them a new playing field, like Iraq! I’ve wanted to slither through that garden again since my great Adam and Eve campaign. Build something up! Make all three camps think they can win! He grabbed Lying and raised him up to eye level. Do you understand me?

Satan threw Lying down and menaced Familiar. You haven’t used New Age adequately. What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see that if you give people the goose bumps with a few supernatural experiences, they’ll think they’re born again and reject the true Christ? Give New Age all the reinforcements he needs! If you think I’m going to do your work for you, you’ll find yourself in the lava pits! He smashed Familiar’s face into the ground glass floor.

Perverse! Satan actually grinned. Fine job your assistant, Lust, is doing with that president of the United States. He has him dangling from a string like a puppet. Then the face congealed with anger. Don’t sit back on your laurels! Be ready with another strike. Give Lesbianism some backing! And for inferno’s sake, get Gossip on the job! Accuse everyone and anyone of rebellion! Perverse bowed low, but Satan struck him anyway.

He turned slowly to appraise Whoredom. Why isn’t there anything good to watch on TV? Get some soap operas going on prime-time. Hook ’em! How about a hospital show where every employee sleeps with every other employee all in the name of good relationships? You know, have the good guys do all the sinning. Satan laughed, musing to himself. I’m good, even if I do say so myself.

You! Over there! Heaviness! The disciple turned in Satan’s direction but didn’t dare raise his eyes to look at the face without permission. Where’s your assistant Hopelessness? Has he gone underground? Have him work with Religion. Let’s get a good war going in the Middle East so Hopelessness and his minions can bowl people over as they watch the nightly news. Have Low Self-esteem squirm into their living rooms and tell them they can’t do anything about it.

Yes, your eminence, Heaviness acquiesced, but Satan dashed him against the wall.

Tiring of the drill, he spouted off the other names rapidly. Infirmity, why am I waiting for the bird flu? Is this the best you can do? Deaf and Dumb, I want more suicides! Suicides spawn suicides. And I don’t mean murders made to look like suicides. Fear! Satan twisted as if in anguish. "Do I have to do everything around here? Can’t you think for yourselves? Look at the army at your disposal! Torment, Terror, Inferiority, Inadequacy, Nightmares, and all those with the names Fear of––, and you can fill in the blank with anything you can name. What are you doing with those valuable assistants?

Pride. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Where’s good old Self-Righteousness? Or plain old Selfishness? Or that other assistant of yours, Domineering? You’ve run roughshod over the nations for centuries with those guys! Put them to work with new strategies. You’ve got Fighting and Wrath to help out. Contentions, even. Satan shook his head in dismay. Pride slunk low, expecting a clout, but the swaggering one turned to Bondage.

You! This is the age of addiction, and you’re wallowing around like you’ve finished the course! Brainstorm with all those named Addicted to––, and again you can fill in the blank with anything you can think of and come up with some new strategies. Satan shook his head again. I cannot believe I am stuck with dolts like you! The firepower I provide and your lack of initiative amazes me! But who can I appeal to for help? Nobody! I’m the boss! So get lively! Turning suddenly, he pointed his bony finger.

"Anti-Christ! Don’t think you can slack off because it isn’t your time yet. It is your time! I’m grooming my earthly puppet right now! He’s almost ready, so you take the spirits that are under your rule and spread them throughout the earth. Then his army will be standing by in season and out to follow the one that will be known as Anti-Christ because the spirit of Anti-Christ will already have saturated the earth. He turned looking at them all. Capisce?"

Yes, magnificent one, all twelve mumbled without moving.

Then get out of here and get it done! The next time I visit the Steal Room, I expect to see some new strategies on the board. Now go! He waved his hand in the awaited dismissal.

The twelve instantly disappeared, descending one floor to their offices in the round building. A hallway ran the circle with doors to the twelve offices on the outer side of the hall. Directly across the hall stood twelve doors leading to the interior twelve-story library with files on every human to have ever lived. The bottom floor of the library held the current events of each living person’s life. Shuttling from file to file in sleep-deprived stupor, the administrative assistants of each Strongman kept the data updated on a minute-by-minute basis.

Each of the identical twelve offices held filing cabinets built into the wall behind the desk. They contained essential information, not minute by minute, of every person to have ever lived in their family configuration, accounting for all generations. The top row of six drawers, at head level, held ancient files of the first six thousand years. The bottom six drawers, at hip level, held the seventh millennium.

Directly across from the door, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the red, glowing, bubbling pots of hell. From there, the Strongmen could gleefully look on the misery of past conquests, their one pleasure in their gruesome world. In fact, the terrain of hell boiled so hot that the glass blocks constructing the Lair glowed red from the heat beneath.

On the wall across from the desk hung implements of torture. Any hapless assistant reporting for duty who had not successfully carried out his campaign spent relentless hours on that wall. The assistants occupied similar offices on the lower floors where they executed their own punishments to recalcitrant demons and imps.

The Steal Room, so named for the least of Satan’s exploits, situated underneath the Library, spread across the breadth of the building. Here the mangled minds of Satan’s followers planned their strategies, posting them on a board that hung from the triple-height ceiling like an arrival and departing board in a train station. A similar board hung on the opposite side of the hall, displaying individual assignments for the captains who vocally gave command to their troops.

The bottom twenty-five floors housed dormitories—caverns really—for all personnel. The lower the floor, the closer to the heat source, the hotter the sleeping areas became. The lowest nine floors were constantly occupied because the inhabitants were chained to the floor. But the very bottom floor, subterranean, underneath all the dormitories belonged to the master himself, Satan, for his private quarters. During the workday, he remained in the relative cool of the uppermost floor, if such a description could be used of constant, blazing fire, but at night he liked to repose in the bowels of hell to remind himself of his purpose. Eternal punishment. He alone imposed that objective. He alone maintained his rule and reign. His subjects had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to.

Heavenly Help: One

Three angels appeared at the desk of Michael. You called us?

Michael looked up from reading the scroll spread across the desk cut from one solid emerald. He beamed a smile that embraced each of the three. Yes, I did. What a joy to see you! You’ll be happy to know I have a special assignment for you. This privilege is unprecedented; you are part of a grand design by our Father. There are three individuals, one for each of you, to keep under guard. Their times are ripening. Read each one’s book, which the Almighty wrote about them before He even made the earth for them to live on. You’ll find those books make fascinating impressions.

The three stood around the emerald, perplexed by this turn of events in their lives; however, their stature indicated that they were willing. They had committed themselves to the perfect service of God, and they were willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. Even if they lacked understanding about the task, they brimmed with obedience.

Their boss continued. "As you know, your job is to make sure the circumstances for the human line up with the will of God as He has written it in their books. As you also know, they have an enemy who will target them as soon as he figures out what the Lord wants them to do with their lives. He will try hard to keep them from finding their purpose or their destiny, and he will work even harder to prevent them from doing it.

"You also know that far too often he succeeds. It’s not your fault. You can’t prevent the humans from going into agreement with him; after all, they have free will. But in the long run, we do have him outnumbered, and God’s will, ultimately, is accomplished. However, even one loss is one loss too many.

Your assignment requires you to keep Satan in the dark, even let him think he is winning, but arrange things to put the already defeated enemy in his place and to unfold God’s purposes in a timely fashion. God calls these three charges of yours His beloved, like all mRemind yourselves that first and foremost He wants them in His family. Without that, they will never achieve their destiny. His heart breaks when one of His cherished ones joins His enemy. See that they meet Jesus and accept Him as Lord, no matter what! Use every opportunity, every circumstance, to bring about their new birth. If they refuse Him, never mind how good these three become, all will be lost for them and all those they would have influenced."

One angel asked, dazzling with flashes of light as he spoke, I’m puzzled. We’ve never been assigned to individual humans before. This is the job of their guardian angels.

Of course it is! Michael clapped the angel on the shoulders with comradely joy.

Why do you need us? One angel can defeat an army of soldiers. Look what one did to the enemy of Israel. I don’t want to interfere on my brother angel’s territory.

I know your concerns, my friend. From time to time I assign a Special Forces angel to an individual when there are singular cases. These three individuals require such care. You will see the necessity when you read the books. Trust me; their guardian angels are eager for your help. Report to them, and be their helpers. Put into practice all your training for the Special Forces.

He came to stand beside one of the angels, putting his hand on his shoulder in a brotherly way. Mark, your assignment is a teenager, a Mr. Dempsey David Davenport. You’re going to have to keep his eye on the goal as he is easily distracted and as an adult will be lured by worldly wealth. Your characteristics of honing in on the target will be just what he needs, starting now.

And can we get him saved before he comes of age?

I’m afraid not. That’s why you must be quickly diligent.

Turning to the second angel, he held him by the elbow. I’ve watched your proficiency Ward, and I salute you. You ward off all attacks against the Word. Your man, Bartholomew Joseph Cannon, will be a carrier of the Word of God and as such will be a prime target for the missiles from hell. Now you know how important it is that the Word be protected. Slew-Foot will do anything to stop the Word.

Ward straightened his shoulders. Man doesn’t realize what a gift of freedom that Word is. I will protect it with everything heaven has!

I know you will. That’s why I chose you. Patting his shoulder, he moved on to the next angel.

Judy. I’m so glad to have you on this team. He took her hand warmly between the two of his. Your name means ‘one who praises,’ and your assignee is one who desperately needs to learn to praise the Lord in all things. Her name is Jasmine Anne Zimmerman, and she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. In other words, she has been working for the other side. But her destiny has to be that she comes to us. The souls of many will be placed in her hands, so teach her quickly.

Yes, Michael. You can count on me.

Now go, my dears, consult with each other, and whenever you need reinforcements, tell me what you would like to have, and I’ll send them in the blink of an eye. Just to remind you, there are the special helpers who come instantly in a time of need, there are messengers, there are ambassadors, there are clarity angels, there are healing angels, then there are praise angels, and don’t forget our vast warehouse of body parts. Michael chuckled at himself and waved affectionately. What am I telling you this for? You know all these and more. I’m just being my meticulous-mentor-self.

Mark smiled at his tender leader. We’re warriors, Michael. You always cover us with fire power. Chariots of fire!

The three flew away, happy to have such proximity with a human and such auspicious assignments. A strand of praise floated nearby, and the angels hitched a ride on it back to headquarters. They agreed to confer daily and to read each other’s books so as to have a more global understanding of their project.

Judy said, Humans perplex me. They don’t seem to know who they are. They’re dull and non-responsive to their own Maker.

Mark and Ward hummed their agreement as they all fixed their attention on the debarkation at headquarters.

Let the Games Begin

Dempsey

Dempsey David Davenport, still gangly and awkward at the age of sixteen, shifted from one foot to another as they waited to be seated in the Mission Hills Country Club dining room. The luxurious atmosphere was not lost on the boy, but his attention on his host’s deep-voiced dialogue agitated his lanky limbs. Clinton Snyder, his best friend since first grade, and Clint’s grandfather, Max, took Dempsey with them wherever they went.

Max, intent on his grandson’s education, spoke pointedly to Clint. Being my caddy in this golf club is a very important position. Since your father presides as the golf pro, your behavior will be watched by everyone on the course. Noticing Dempsey’s apparent dance, he frowned. Do you have to go to the bathroom, boy? It’s just down the hall.

Licking his dry lips, Dempsey blurted, No, sir. I want to know if I can caddy too.

Chuckling, Max said, I can only use one caddy at a time. It would be a bit pretentious of me to have two.

But Grandpa, Clint complained, Dempsey and I do everything together.

A soft touch for his son’s son, especially one as abandoned as Clinton by a too busy and too popular father, Max straightened his shoulders. Well, I guess I’m old enough not to care what people think. Why not? We’ll have double the fun!

Clinton’s eyes glinted. Unless we’re double the trouble. But Dempsey, too enthralled with the prospect of being a caddy, did not pick up on his friend’s tease. Max Snyder taught his son how to play golf, and his son made quite a name for himself. Now this same instruction would be given to Dempsey and Clint, maybe even better. The young man’s dance increased with his excitement.

He could hardly wait till the lengthy lunch ended and the limo returned him home so he could tell his folks. Finally, they’d be proud of him! He could see their faces when he broke the news; his dad would pat him on the back. His mom, would smile and hug him. Dempsey stuffed the food in his mouth, but it didn’t make Max eat any faster, nor did it make the overbearing dining room service speed up.

After lunch, they visited the locker room where Max showed them his clubs, explaining each one. Dempsey became absorbed. Each club turned into a science project for him, which one to use when, imagining all the data surrounding the shot. Afterward, they went shopping for appropriate clothing and shoes for the boys.

By the time Dempsey arrived home, his big news about being a caddy no longer pertained to his parents and their pride. His being a caddy pertained to him. He owned the job before having a chance to do it. A good thing, too, as when he burst into the living room to announce his news, his father said, That’s a sissy sport. Though his mother looked up, her eyes indicated her mind roamed elsewhere.

Jack, his older brother by four years, cuffed his father. There’s no such thing as a sissy sport. Every sport is worthy of its own honor.

Bruno, the size of a bear like his eldest son, feigned a punch toward Jack’s gut, which instinctively tightened. There’s only one sport of honor in this house: boxing. You want to be somebody? Be a boxer. Like my champion, Jack.

Lay off, Dad. Ruffling Dempsey’s hair, Jack caught his kid brother in a soft headlock. I’m proud of ya kid.

Bart

Bartholomew Joseph Cannon, affectionately called Bart by everyone in his universe, cautiously jogged across campus on this pre-spring day. He attentively watched for black ice. One slip and his date tonight with Tillie Ryder could be kyboshed as well as his play in tomorrow’s hockey game. Half annoyed, he muttered to himself.

This is the dumbest assignment I’ve ever had. And what does it get me? So far nothing. Thirty minutes a day in the chapel praying in tongues. I wonder if the department head knows this is going on. We’re not even a charismatic university. What was I supposed to do? Flunk? I stood there like an idiot with all the rest, babbling baby talk when he came around putting his hands on everyone’s heads.

Sure-footedly arriving at the chapel, glad to find the place warm late on a Friday afternoon, Bart immediately checked his watch and started whispering incoherent words. At first he paced the aisles, his arms crossed. Incessantly, he checked his watch and grimaced to find only thirty seconds had passed. The more he prayed, the less and less frequently he timed himself.

Then his gaze drifted to the long rectangular stained glass windows intermittent with the rough wood timbers. His gaze continued upward to where the wood beams met at the top of the chapel like the belly of a ship. Looking up made him feel like Jonah churning around in the belly of the whale. But lowering his view to the stained glass gave him peace.

Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus looking lovingly at the soldiers holding their torches and swords as they fell to the ground. He paused a moment at those two and mused: How could Jesus sweat blood, and then have the soldiers spiritually overcome by His presence, and yet allow Himself to be taken, supposedly by force? Unconsciously, his arms slipped down to hang by his side.

He continued down the line. Jesus receiving the slashes on His back from the cat of nine tails. Jesus carrying His cross. Jesus being nailed to the cross. What must that have felt like? Bart winced as a suggestion of the pain shot through his body. Instinctively, he clasped his hands across his heart.

The soldiers putting the sign on the cross, King of the Jews. Surely they knew, he agonized. Someone must have known!

Jesus dying on the cross. Jesus being taken from the cross. Jesus being put in the tomb. The soldiers rolling the stone across the opening to the tomb. The end. It must have looked like the end to all who watched. Bart shook his head in wonder and puffed out his breath. But then the moment that turned the world upside down. Jesus, resurrected, standing at the open door of the tomb with Mary Magdalene bowing at His feet. Jesus, smiling, His arms open wide for all to accept His embrace.

Even me. Especially me. I’m the only one I can really account for.

Overcome, Bart fell to his knees, his arms beseeching Jesus. My Lord and my King! he cried into the cavernous space. Suddenly the chapel faded away, and Bart found himself in the throne room of Heaven. Falling forward onto his face, Bart babbled in coherent words.

When he began the repetition of Only You, only You, only You, only You, a cloud of glory fell into the chapel from the belly of the boat in the heights of the ceiling and engulfed the three young men and one young woman also there to complete their assignment/experiment. They, too, fell to their faces crying out to God, who had suddenly become very, very real.

A newcomer to the chapel tried to enter, but the cloud was so thick, she fell in the foyer. Others arriving after her were startled, but instead of trying to revive her, they pushed into the upside-down ship and they, too, were turned upside down, landing on their faces in the aisles. Individuals here, couples there, students from all ends of the campus were drawn, inexplicably, to the chapel on this chilly Friday night.

One opened the door, and seeing the pile of bodies that had now accumulated in the foyer, shut the door again and ran for help. Two campus policemen arrived, upper-class students, and when they saw the condition of their fellow classmates, they realized it was that which they had been reading about in revival studies. They called for backup and stationed guards around the chapel to protect the holiness that they perceived to have arrived on their campus.

Nothing could have spread word faster than this action. Soon the majority of the students who had not left campus for the weekend were at the chapel door, wanting to get inside. The policemen let them in two at a time, directing them down the side aisles and into