Among all the hustle and bustle, two church services were held each day, one per shift. After the service, before sleeping, many whose shifts were over retreated to their cottages for group Bible studies, extended prayer time. Others remained in the church pavilion to monitor world events on the only available TV on the property, so they could keep those who were working abreast of any new developments.
It had only been a few days, but it was already the new normal at safe house number one, and at all other ETSM locations where large construction equipment was being used. Only now, with power lost—much of it was being done in total darkness…
6
AGENT DANIEL SULLIVAN PULLED into the massive subterranean location 50 minutes later, thankful that the back-up power was on. He turned the car engine off. “Now you’re free to speak.”
Clayton Holmes said, “You had us scared for a minute.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
Holmes and Braxton Rice both nodded yes.
“And don’t worry, your vehicle’s in safe keeping. It’ll be brought here later with the rest of your belongings. I managed to confiscate your laptops and mobile devices, just in case. They’re in the back of the car.
Dr. Lee Kim sighed deeply, “That’s a relief.”
“Follow me, gentlemen…”
As serious as Sullivan was before the Rapture, mostly due to his job, he was infinitely more serious nowadays. Unlike all other visits to this place, they weren’t blindfolded as they descended 300 feet beneath the earth’s surface on the stealthy elevator.
Getting off, Agent Sullivan said, “Whatever you do, don’t address him as Mister President. President Ashford always does that, much to his chagrin. Last time Danforth scolded him by saying, ‘You’re the President now, Everett. Please stop calling me by that name!’”
Travis Hartings massaged his left wrist, which still hurt from the handcuffs being fastened too tightly. “What should we call him then?”
Sullivan said, “Sir or Jefferson. Just not Mister President. Besides, Ashford’s been acting in full executive authority ever since Air Force One went down, to ensure the continuity of government, what’s left of it, anyway. Now that his death has been made official, the swearing in is the next step in the process. But don’t worry, fellas, Ashford’s on our side.”
They reached Jefferson Danforth’s personal underground quarters.
Agent Sullivan knocked on the door. “Enter…”
The room was dimly lit. Not counting the glare generated by the television, only one light was on.
Clayton Holmes took one look at Jefferson and had to momentarily look away. His facial bones had pushed through his skin; his eye sockets were hollow, distant, hopeless, as if his insides had been carved out.
He looked completely unglued, lying on a couch wearing gray sweatpants, slippers and a white t-shirt. He had a few days of gray razor stubble on his face, which, for the first time in his life, made him look older than his actual age of 59. A year ago, Jefferson looked ten years younger than that, at least that much!
It’s not that he expected to look the same after his tenure as President ended. He was quite mindful that, even in relatively calm times, the daily pressure accompanying being POTUS was so intense that photographs taken of American Presidents after their terms were up, displayed faces so aged, it looked as if 20 years had passed instead of just four or eight.
A year ago, Jefferson vainly thought he might be the one to defy the odds and still look fresh at the end of his term. He was wrong. The first three years as America’s highest civil servant had been fairly-kind to his face. There was definite aging to be sure, but nothing like now.
It was as if he’d aged 20 years since the Rapture, with five of those years passing upon hearing that his wife had been killed.
It sickened him to be thinking such ridiculous thoughts at a time like this. King Solomon was right; it’s all vanity!
If going from citizen to President was a big deal, Jefferson Danforth was learning firsthand just how difficult it was transitioning back from President to citizen, especially when presumed dead. Though technically he was still President, no one knew it. Given the new climate, he was relieved to no longer be Commander-in-Chief. He was too worn out.
He glanced up at his guests, “They announced shortly before you arrived that my funeral will be held sometime next week.”
Holmes greeted his friend with a comforting hug. He felt him quaking inside. No words were spoken. How does one reply to such a bizarre notion?
Clayton released his grip when a broadcaster said, “We will now take you to the swearing in of Vice President Ashford…”
Everett Ashford stood next to the Chief Justice. “Repeat after me…”
“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of the President of the United States…”
Ashford repeated it.
“And will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend…”
Ashford repeated it.
“The Constitution of the United States...”
Ashford repeated it.
Jefferson Danforth sighed, “That’s that, then…”
“Congratulations, Mister President,” the U.S. Chief Justice declared, to Everett Ashford, solemnly, evenly, extending his right hand to shake the new President’s.
He quickly pulled it back when Everett Ashford shouted, “So help me God!” despite that those four words had been stricken from the oath.
The Chief Justice wanted to remark, “You know better than to say that,” or “To whom are you referring?”
Instead, the two men exchanged strained smiles before breaking eye contact for the cameras. Their smiles quickly went to full beam as the world watched; some of the world, anyway.
Different from most other Presidential oath-takings was that it wasn’t repeated on the steps of Congress, with throngs of citizens crowding the national mall. With power out in most U.S. cities, more foreigners watched than Americans.
But even if Americans could watch on TV, the ratings still would have been dismal. With an administration steeped in turmoil, and a new election cycle fast approaching, few people cared.
The last time the oath was taken away from Congress was when Lyndon Johnson was sworn in on board Air Force One the day President Kennedy was assassinated back in 1963.
Nearly four years ago, when Everett Ashford was sworn in as V.P. on the steps of Congress, he took the oath in front of multitudes of citizens. Millions more watched on TV and online.
Back then, America was unquestionably the world’s main superpower. The economy was thriving. Inflation and unemployment were low. And more than 300,000,000 citizens lived within its borders.
Unlike now. Everything was different.
In less than a year, the populace had shrunken to below 100,000,000; the economy kept worsening and inflation was so high it could no longer be managed or measured. The many things he and Jefferson Danforth had worked so hard for—things that helped cement what once was a strained relationship between them—was gone.
With these grim statistics marinating in his mind, President Ashford was thankful he was sworn in at the White House, with only a handful of people in the room. Even so, his breathing was so labored at times, he almost couldn’t finish taking the oath.
This penned-up anxiety went far beyond the fear of inheriting a country that was a mere skeleton of what it once was. In fact, the full weight of the White House bearing down on him paled in comparison to the crushing weight placed on his shoulders, from the secret he was keeping from the American people, and the entire world, for that matter…
Of the countless secrets American Presidents had kept from the people they governed, this one was so scandalous, if it ever came to light, not only would Everett Ashford’s Presidency of just a few short minutes be instantly voided, chances were good he would be handcuffed and carted off to jail on conspiracy charges. Or worse…
Hence, the dour expressio
n on his face. Then again, he never wanted this job in the first place, especially knowing what was still to come. As a Christian, Everett Ashford knew what role he had to play as President, and to whom he needed to commit his loyalty in these uncertain times.
Having been intimately involved with his predecessor when the counter shadow government was put in place—a government he’d spent the past ten days dismantling as per Jefferson Danforth’s orders—President Ashford would follow in his steps by offering his ongoing support to the End Times Salvation Movement, to the best of his ability.
Had it not been for helping his brothers and sisters in the faith, Ashford would have respectfully declined the dubious honor and let the Speaker of the House become the nation’s next President.
Clarence Bannister’s untimely death changed everything. In a country steadily coming apart at the seams, little media coverage was given when the Speaker of the House died of a heart attack on the day terrorists set many American cities ablaze.
Strangely enough, his death wasn’t announced until a few days later.
Whereas Bannister and Danforth shared similar political viewpoints, the new House Speaker, Lois Cipriano, stood diametrically opposed to his vision of a better America. Not only was she one of his greatest political foes, she was a strong supporter of Salvador Romanero and was totally committed to helping him usher in a New World Order.
In President Ashford’s brief address from the Oval Office, instead of talking about new policies or changes he wanted implemented, or honoring Jefferson Danforth, he adjusted himself in the chair he wished he wasn’t presently occupying and came straight to the point…
“As Commander-in-Chief, my main task is to make sure our nation is secure. With America under attack once again, my undivided attention must be given to this most pressing matter. I’ve already been briefed on the situation and hope to update you just as soon as I can.”
“Until I’ve been assured the threat has ended, I will hold off on choosing a Vice President at this time. Had Clarence Bannister still been alive, there would be no need to wait. He would have been my choice. At any rate, I hope to make my decision later today, after things calm down a bit…”
What Ashford didn’t say, couldn’t say, was he would seek Danforth’s opinion regarding National Security Adviser Nelson Casanieves and Joint Chief of Staff, William Messersmith. Both men had proven to be trusted friends, allies, colleagues, and brothers in Christ.
One of them would be the next Vice President. Or so he thought…
Out of respect for the man he was replacing, he wanted to honor his fallen Commander in Chief, by highlighting President Danforth’s many accomplishments which greatly benefitted the country under his leadership before the disappearances. But if he did, his words would have surely fallen on deaf ears. Not only that, he had a crisis on his hands.
Since he couldn’t speak about Jefferson Danforth, he would speak for him. As one last favor to him, the last words President Ashford uttered publicly before retreating to the Situation Room to change the nuclear codes in the football briefcase were, “My fellow citizens: Keep fighting the Good fight. Pray for me as I pray for you. God is with us.”
This was to assure ETSM members worldwide that the new American President was with them, much like his predecessor had been. Even if they couldn’t hear his remark in real time, word would eventually spread.
At that, President Ashford shook hands again with the Chief Justice before the two men parted company.
America’s highest and most decorated judge left the White House shaking his head in disgust…
WHAT WASN’T MENTIONED IN Ashford’s brief inauguration speech—if it could be called that—was what sort of military action would be taken against countries responsible for the wave after wave of attacks on America, which started on Universal Children’s Day.
This didn’t sit well with many in the U.S. armed forces, or the grassroots organization that met twice underground with President Danforth and ETSM members—the American Freedom Keepers group.
Comprised mostly of military personnel—both active and retired—these men and women still believed America could remain the superpower of the world. They were still willing to fight and die, if necessary, to keep the United States a sovereign nation.
But only if they acted now! If not, their country would be forever lost.
During Ashford’s address, they waited for him to declare war on those responsible for the recent attacks on America. Yet, like the rest of the spineless weasels in Washington, he remained silent on the issue. It was their inaction in the first place that caused numerous power grids to be knocked offline, thrusting most of the country into darkness.
America’s truest twenty-first century patriots were sick and tired of the decision makers in D.C. and their overall inaction. They were already forming militias and demanding full access to America’s military arsenals—to include nuclear weaponry—so they could retaliate.
Their demands always fell on deaf ears. To say they were incensed by this was an understatement. They wanted blood!
But not everyone from those two groups was in vengeance mode. The more vocal their leaders became, and the more they posted threatening verbal assaults online against their government, and Salvador Romanero, the more frightened they were for their lives, especially after fellow members started disappearing.
After becoming Christ followers, all were shown in dreams that, even despite their very best efforts, they couldn’t protect America from the antichrist of the Bible, and his massive global coalition.
Thinking they could defeat him militarily, was a total waste of precious time, energy and emotion.
Upon quietly disassociating themselves from the AFK, all started having dreams about the End Times Salvation Movement…
7
LATER THAT EVENING
AT 7 P.M., EVERYONE at safe house number one gathered at the dimly lit cafeteria and stood in line for dinner. Much like at the church pavilion, high velocity industrial fans were placed at the four corners and turned on full blast to help push the steamy air outside the building that had accumulated inside.
With the ventilation units not working, due to the power outage, the inside air temp was a tick below 100 degrees, ten degrees hotter than the outside temperature. Since most working the second shift were the first in the chow line, they took their meals to the church pavilion. With the canvas walls rolled up and the sun now down, it was much cooler there.
This left everyone else to cope with the heat in the cafeteria. It was so stuffy inside that many sat on the ground outside to eat.
All in all, it was a productive day thus far at safe house number one, despite the many setbacks. It was grueling, but knowing they would be responsible for protecting many children in the coming months, everyone kept pushing until they’d broken through that layer of fatigue they all felt at the outset, allowing them to tap into tremendous amounts of energy they never knew they had.
That energy was now depleted. Hopefully it was funneled to everyone working on the second shift.
But the first shift didn’t come without a few injuries. Thankfully, most were minor cuts and bruises. But one man needed stitches and a tetanus shot after a rusty nail tore into his upper arm while stacking wood from the section of the old maroon fence that was torn down.
There were also a few quarrels. The first was between two high-strung construction workers assigned to changing the old general store daycare center into a laundry facility. One man kept bickering and became quite argumentative at times, saying the other guy didn’t know what he was doing. Had they not been separated and assigned to other tasks they surely would have come to blows.
Another frustrated worker assigned to adding copper-fitting to cottage rooftops, kept complaining that they were working too hard and questioned the point of building things that would only be destroyed again. He understood the wall and even the holes being dug, but according to him, everything else was way over the top.
A tattoo-laden construction worker, having grown weary of his constant complaining tried reasoning with him, “You think this is bad? Before the Rapture, I set up stages for rock and roll concerts. It would sometimes take forty-eight hours to construct, only to be torn down after a three-hour concert. Then we’d travel to the next city and do it all over again. Talk about futile!”
Perhaps it was due to the unbearable heat, but what was meant to encourage him only amplified the situation. Wiping stinging sweat from his eyes, the 40-year-old recovering heroin addict became even more belligerent. He snapped, “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it!”
“Calm down, brother,” Shamus Harmon said, empathetically, “he’s only trying to help…”
Harmon was from Boston. His family of eight was reduced to five on the day of the Rapture. He lost a son, two daughters, and four grandchildren. All had left the Catholic Church before the disappearances. After slowly piecing it together, Shamus repented of his sinful lifestyle. Once his wife, two sons and daughter did the same, they left the Catholic church and eventually ended up in Chadds Ford.
The Harmons were only one of three complete families living at safe house number one. All were in the construction business.
“Say, wasn’t it strong Irish hands that built the Titanic last century?”
The sarcasm in his voice caused Harmon to stiffen up, “Yeah, why?”
“Look where it ended up—at the bottom of the ocean!”
Harmon’s face reddened even more than it already was due to the unrelenting heat. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
He grew irritated, “Nothing. Just not interested in your opinion.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shamus poked his finger into the man’s sweaty chest.
Both men stood on the cottage roof and dropped their tools. Shoulders squared back—they raised their hands in combat. Harmon was in his mid-sixties, but he was still quite strong. Mostly out of pride, he never backed down from a fight.
The Sealing Page 5