Brian looked over and saw Dave staring back at him. Dave without his eyes.
“Come, little thing,” the Darkness said. “There is much more to see.”
Brian followed as it led him out of the rain (more like freezing piss) and around the last of the cannibals with their pitiful undying victims. The woods grew darker and a new stench drifted on the breeze. Brian repressed the urge to retch.
“Why do you hate us so much?” Brian asked. “Human beings, I mean.”
“Not just humanity,” the Darkness said. “All things that breathe and grow and multiply and live. All things that are not Myself.”
“So it is that simple,” Brian said. “You are just evil.”
“Evil? I do not acknowledge the term. What are such limited concepts as ‘good’ or ‘evil’ to Me? I have always been, little thing. There was a time when I was alone. I desire to be alone again.”
“You sound like a little kid, pouting because he didn’t get his way,” Brian said.
“Your feeble mind cannot begin to fathom such things as I speak of,” the Darkness said. “I can but make you understand little matters, one by one, by showing them to you. Observe.”
Brian stopped, reeling. A new vista materialized out of the gloom before him, a wide plain covered by several inches of syrupy blood. The steam rising from the murk provided the explanation for the stench Brian had noted earlier. All over the field, splashing in the blood, a multitude of dark figures were at war. They carried swords and axes, sticks and stones, clubs of wood and pieces of bone and anything else with which violence might be done. Bodies lay sprawled, steeping in the gore, by the hundreds, yet new fighters appeared to take their places. Many of the figures had suffered mutilation—armless, headless, loops of intestine spilling from gaping stomachs—yet they fought on. A cacophony of flies swarmed over the scene as ravenous spectators.
The stink of decomposition blew into Brian’s face on a hot wind. This time Brian couldn’t help himself. He turned and vomited. The Darkness laughed. Dave’s voice, but not Dave’s laughter. “Why are you repulsed, little thing? It is your own world you see before you, your own present time. This is happening now, by your definition.”
“Where?” Brian said, his hand over his mouth and nose.
“Does it matter?” the Darkness asked. “Each time is the same, is it not? You cannot deny that such things happen often in your world.”
“I guess not.” Brian stood with his back to the scene.
“Of course not,” the Darkness said. “But perhaps the sight of rotting negroid flesh does not distress you. Their skin, after all, is of a different shade. They’re not like you. Perhaps I should show you the concentration camps, from a few decades past? They were My idea, you know. A former minion of Mine implemented them. A pity what became of him. I had such hopes.”
“Shut up,” Brian said.
“Oh, of course. They weren’t like you, either. They were filthy Jews.”
“I’m Jewish!” Brian said.
The Darkness laughed. Brian knew it was toying with him.
“Would you care to see the killing fields of Cambodia, then?” the Darkness asked. “My chosen servant there was most eager to please Me.”
“The massacre at Sand Creek?” the Darkness said. “Are you familiar? Perhaps Wounded Knee?”
“A man will kill another for any of a number of reasons, will he not?” the Darkness asked. “Men who do not look alike, think alike, or believe alike will always seek to destroy one another. It has ever been so. It will ever be so. You cannot deny this, little thing.”
“It’s you!” Brian said. “It’s all your doing! You make this happen!” “Indeed. And has any man ever been able to change that, little thing?” Brian could not answer. “You begin to understand,” the Darkness said. “Yet I have more to show you. Follow Me.”