William Kienzle - The Greatest Evil

If anyone on earth, anyone in all of history, understood what Vincent had to do, it was Mother.

He was driving a steady fifty mph, the official speed limit on this section of Woodward’s boulevard. He would keep the law even though he yearned to be home in bed coping with all this pain.

He thought again of Bob Koesler. He may have won this confrontation, but there would be others. Vince would even the score. He would triumph for God.

Bob probably was enjoying himself tonight. But even though he was retiring, there would be a way to get at him. If nothing else, Vince could depend on Divine Providence.

A pain like nothing he had ever experienced washed over him like an angry wave.

He ducked involuntarily as if he could somehow elude this overpowering throbbing. When he raised his head he realized he was about to hit the left-hand curb. He tried to swerve, but it was too late; he and his car were hurtling across the median strip.

Flashing before his eyes was the image from his favorite morality tale: the disgraced priest flying off the freeway hell-bent on suicide. The greatest evil. But Vince wasn’t attempting suicide. This was an …

The car was almost wrapped around a huge tree.

Vince was above the car now. Everything seemed quite peaceful. He looked down and saw two wheels spinning in place.

Then he seemed to be somewhere else. It was dark-very dark. There was a light in the distance. It was moving toward him. It was … his mother. Her arms were open to him. Then she faded. It was dark again.

For some reason he dreaded what was to come.