It meant nothing. If they had wanted to stop the mob they would have done so already. If they made a move now, with so many people packed along the road, there would be a stampede. Thousands would be trampled. Blake had thought at first that they were heading toward the U.N. area and the spaceship; now he realized that they should have turned left. They were still coming directly toward him. The temple! They were attacking the Voice of God temple.
Very cautiously he retreated, keeping in the woods, invisible against the black of the trees, until he had a view of the temple. The long hairs were there. Not as many as the gang marching down the road, but ready for them. He nodded then. It was as predictable as a slum war when the short hairs and long hairs mixed it up on Saturday night. Predictable if bigger than any slum war he had seen. He was too far from either group to see what their weapons were. He knew he should leave before the battle started. He had no desire to enter into it on either side. He retreated the way he had come, was stopped again by the instruments on his control panel. Interference ahead. He directed his scanners to probe the source and his mouth tightened. The defenders had set up ambushes, probably throughout the woods to pick off those that decided to run. He crept cautiously to his left until he spotted another patrol. They were taking up positions up and down the woods paralleling the road.
The advancing mob was much louder. when he realized that he was not going to be allowed to leave. He began to search for a place to sit it out, and brought his craft to a stop high in a gigantic spruce tree that was thick and black all the way to its peak, over one hundred feet above the ground. The short hairs coming up the road made such a din now that the trees trembled. Blake sealed off his craft and opened his oxygen supply to escape the noise. He trained his receiver toward the park where the temple stood, adjusted the volume so that the oncoming roar was bearable, then waited.
When the mob got within a hundred feet of the park, brilliant lights suddenly came on on both sides of the road. The scraggly hordes were illuminated and blinded. There were screams and a milling about as of hens terrorized in an enclosed barnyard by the unexpected incursion of a drooling fox. From his position high over it all Blake could see clearly the panic on the faces, the fear of instant death. He expected to hear the soft stutter of stun guns, but there was nothing. Only the glare of spotlights. Those farther back on the road were pushing on, an irresistible force that would have overrun those who had halted had they not moved ahead. The mob became tighter, body against body, flares and torches and electric lights now hanging down unused, unusable. The noise lessened. Those approaching the park were silent and very afraid. From off to the right there came three quick explosions, not very loud, leaving a deeper stillness afterward. There was one more explosion, then silence. Blake turned his gaze to the park and studied the encircling woods. A movement had caught his eye. He saw it again. The short hairs had split off from the main crowd and were gathering at the edge of the clearing. He couldn’t tell how many of them there were. The masses below him were being pushed reluctantly toward the clearing and the approach to the temple grounds now.
Suddenly there was singing, a chorus of children’s voices, incredibly sweet and compelling. The mob stopped again in confusion. The chorus was singing a paean to their leader, calling on all to adore him, to hear his words, to obey his commands. The hymn ended on a high note, a note of hallelujah, and after a silence of no more than five seconds, Obie’s voice was in the air, everywhere:
“And the Lord spake unto me, and the Lord said, ‘This ground shall evermore be sacred. Let no man desecrate this ground whereon I walk. Build here a temple that all men might come and worship and see the glory of the Lord.’ Come, come. Come see the glory of the temple of the Lord. Feel the presence of the Most Holy. I shall show you the power. and the might of the Lord. Walk forward, drop your weapons on the side of the road. Walk forward and approach the temple of the Lord. ‘Come unto Me,’ saith the Lord. Walk forward, drop your weapons and walk forward. Come forward slowly, with downcast eyes that you may not be blinded by the Radiant Light of the Lord. Fall on your knees and open your hearts to the presence of the Lord….”
Blake watched as the mob surged into the clearing, dropping clubs, knives, guns, torches, everything. They were obeying the voice that was everywhere. He turned his gaze to the smaller group at the edge of the woods across the park. He couldn’t make out any details of that group yet. There was a flash and a phut, and the light that had been directed generally toward that area went out. The men rushed forward at the same instant. Then he could see them, perhaps fifty or sixty of them. They were met in the park by long hairs armed with stun guns. The battle started among the trees and shrubbery of the park, but slowly worked its way toward the temple. More long hairs emerged from the temple, circling the fighting men, trying to get behind the attackers. Another dozen or more short hairs ran out from the woods and engaged them. Blake nodded. The cleared area, carefully planted with specimen trees and shrubbery was being filled with the now kneeling short hairs who were being stumbled over by the newcomers to the temple park. And those on the road, beyond the lights and the voice were shouting and roaring and pushing to get to the temple.
In the frosty air Blake could see vapor where the lights were focused on the road; it also hung like mist over the park, settling very slowly while new layers formed, hung, then sank. On the side where the fighting was taking place then; was no such effect. .
“Form a line and come to the temple,” the voice said, everywhere. “Come to the temple with downcast eyes, and feel the presence of the Lord. Let the Voice of God soothe you and comfort you. Form a line and come to the temple.”
Again, as before, there was the repetition, the strong voice that was everywhere and sourceless. There was an incredible scene below Blake then. On the road the people were being told to drop their arms and enter the park where they were to kneel. In the park they were being told to make a line and come into the temple. The voice carried over the choir, which continued to sing. And still around the side of the parka fierce battle was being waged, with stuttering stun guns, and blue arcing electric clubs that could deliver a range of hits from mild shock to electrocution. There was hand to hand fighting with no weapons, and this was the most brutal of all. The people in the park, and those on the road still appeared oblivious to the fighting.
A third wave of attackers appeared from the dark woods and swarmed into the grounds, and this time their force was visibly driving the defenders back, up the incline toward the temple. At the edge of the woods three men worked over a piece of equipment, a portable mortar. They got it set up and aimed it at one of the many terraces that led to the temple. When the mortar exploded there were many screams of terror, and one of the bright lights went out. The men aimed again and scored a hit on another of the lights, and with the diminution of light, it seemed that some of the people entering the grounds were strengthened; they didn’t fall to the ground to make obeisance to the ubiquitous voice, but charged blindly over the kneeling figures to take cover within the shrubbery.