An instinctive speculator, Thorn's mind roamed the possibilities. If Christ were born on the earth now, he would, as before, be dressed in attire of the day. No more robes and crowns of thorn, but chinos perhaps, or Levis, or a suit and tie. Was he born yet? And if so, why was he silent? Surely the world was in a big enough mess.

Thorn carried these thoughts home and brought his books as well. After Katherine had retired and the house was dark and silent around him, he opened the books in his study and began to ponder again. It was the return of Christ that sparked his imagination, and he sought out pertinent passages of text. He found it immensely complicated, for it was prophesied in the Book of Revelations that when Christ returned to earth he would have to face his antithesis. The Anti-Christ. The Son of Evil. And the earth would be swept asunder by the final contest between Heaven and Hell. It would be Armageddon. The Apocalypse. The end of the world.

From the silence of his den, Thorn heard a sound coming from the upstairs of the house. It was a moan. It came twice and then stopped. Leaving the den, he moved quietly up the stairs and gazed in at Katherine. She was asleep, but restless, her face bathed in sweat. He watched her until her tossing ceased and her breath became even, and then he withdrew, heading back to the stairs. As he felt his way down the darkened hall, he passed Mrs. Baylock's room, noticing the door slightly ajar. The massive woman was asleep on her back, a mountain of flesh spotlighted by the moonlight flooding in through her window. Thorn was about to continue but was suddenly halted, shocked by the woman's face. It was powdered a ghastly white. She was wearing lipstick, too, garishly applied, as though put on in a state of drunken stupor. It was a chilling sight and he felt weakened by it, struggling to sort it out. It made no sense. In the privacy of her room, the woman had painted herself like a harlot.

Closing her door, he returned downstairs, gazing again at the books laid out before him. He was troubled now, unable to concentrate, his eyes idly wandering across the opened pages. The small King James Bible was opened to the Book of Daniel, and he stared at it in silence.