Smith was shaking all over. Even after all the time he was God's messenger, after all the mystery prophecies and struggling with doing the right thing, it still shook him to the core when a mission went wrong. Totally wrong.
Two good guys hurt, a much too young woman deadly wounded. No one blamed him, but he felt guilty anyway. He cursed God for giving him nebulous information; enough to know that something terrible would happen; not enough to avoid it.
God was cruel to the survivors of the Big Death. Smith wondered if he had planned to punish them for giving them a second chance to live. The dead were better off. But then he looked down at the dying young woman in his arms. The sadness in her eyes. No, she wasn't ready to go, she had loved her life no matter how hard it was.
Smith felt tears burning in his eyes, almost against his will he started to pray.
„God, I beg you, finally to give her the peace she deserves.“