[i] 'Make your move... Kill me or release me... but do not waste my time...[/i]

Finally, the sergeant spoke: "[b]Remember one thing, before you put someone else's life on the line, keep in mind you should've died in Fairview.[/b]", and strode behind the father. With a slight panicked gasp, ever so silent, Mac felt a knife slit his bindings, and they fell to the ground with a small thud. Rubbing his aching wrists, he stood up from the chair and stretched, relieved to have survived this encounter. Not out of the clear yet though, as the sergeant (Harris, according to his identification insignia) mentioned to avoid his fellows, and that a truck was parked just outside. This should make it easier to get there, Mac thought to himself. But he'd need to be quick.

"It is not easy to ignore those dark urges of revenge, my brother." The priest spoke quietly and returned his nod. "Perhaps there is still hope for you yet. Repent, and let the Lord enter your heart. Lest you end up as one of these fiendish ghouls that plague this once peaceful land. For that would be a terrible shame, a shame that would hurt Him greatly." He grabbed his belongings, and sheathed the fire axe upon his back, before approaching the door and opening it. Turning back, Mac spoke one final time. "Farewell. May God keep you from wandering astray..."

A quiet crack, as the door swung shut, and Mac found himself staring at a large pick up, a dull red and chipped paint, dirty windows and a faint oily smell. But still in working condition, as the Father entered the drivers seat, found the keys under the sun protector, and turned her over. With a throaty growl, the engine turned over, and the car came to life. Stepping out after cutting the engine, a more energetic Mac searched the garage, and found three things of great interest: A few bottles of rubbing alcohol, a tool box and, most surprisingly, what appeared to be a VERY large revolver situated in a safety deposit box jimmied open with the help of his new found tools. 

Carefully inspecting the weapon, he found it had no bullets, nor were any to be found around the garage, and the priest wasn't about to go back in to see the sergeant after the interrogation. Besides, Mac despised guns. They were too... impersonal. With a chuckle, he unloaded the boxes from the tray of the truck (replacing them with his own gear), placed the smaller items and revolver in the passenger seat, and climbed back in. Starting the old machine up again, it was time to leave. Reversing out, Mac took off towards.Spencer's Mill, hoping it wasn't too late. Though the Lord's salvation is always on time, exactly as He had planned.