Praying for God’s protection, the now-homeless woman ran to the emergency exit door and went through the same motion, this time descending twenty-nine stories, taking the elevator a few flights then walking a few, until she reached the first floor.
Tamika stuffed Cocoa inside her coat and left the building, opting not to use her phone that time. Twice was enough.
Miraculously, it worked again. For the first time ever, even despite her mounting troubles, she could feel God directing her path. She was greatly comforted by it.
“Welcome to your new home,” Tamika had said, to the only family member she had left in this forsaken world upon reaching her late mother’s Oldsmobile.
Before leaving Manhattan, she made a quick stop at a nearby ATM machine and drained what little money she had left in her bank account.
That was three long weeks ago...
Tamika and Cocoa had been homeless and running scared ever since. At least Tamika was scared. “What I wouldn’t do to be sitting on my throw pillow in the kitchen sipping hot tea and reading a good book,” she said, to her pet feline, giving her a handful of dry cat food to nibble on. “Those days are over...”
Every few minutes, Tamika checked her rear view and two side mirrors to make sure no one was sneaking up on her, especially someone with a badge and gun.
Seeing her reflection in the rear-view mirror, she nearly lost it. Still visible in her hair were faint patches of orange from when she dyed it last spring. The tightly coiled orange-black mess atop her head looked nasty. Not only that, her once silky-smooth dark skin looked ghastly, her once beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes looked dead, and the injuries on her legs from the dog bites were starting to form pus.
Tamika not only felt dirty, she looked and smelled dirty. Her last shower was five days ago at an interstate truck stop.
“It’s a wonder you haven’t passed out by now, Cocoa.” Tamika frowned. “Least in jail I can shower every day and put clean bandages on my legs!” She looked skyward, “Do You still love on the run homeless people, Father? I certainly don’t feel like one of Your children right now...”
She blinked the thought away. If she ever got caught, with so much widespread press coverage, proving her innocence would be no easy task. The old “I-did-it-purely-for-spiritual-reasons” excuse would only make her look even more crazy.
And who would possibly defend her? Who would want to? She couldn’t afford a lawyer. And she certainly didn’t have bail money. The few hundred dollars she had left to her name had to last.
If caught, Tamika feared they’d throw her in jail for who knew how long, or perhaps commit her to a mental hospital for serious psychological evaluation. Either way, she would lose her freedom—possibly for a long time.
Scooping Cocoa into her arms, she said, “Who would take care of you then?”
Thanks to Brian Mulrooney and Charles Calloway, Tamika knew any sentence of seven years or longer was basically a death sentence. Nothing could stop what was headed their way.
Devastation so severe was coming that incarcerated prisoners would whimper in their cells like scared puppy dogs, powerless from seeking safe refuge.
Tamika felt sorry for anyone presently behind bars. The last thing she wanted was to end up among them. Though unpleasant, living in a car was infinitely better than languishing in a jail cell.
No, Tamika wasn’t going to jail. Not if she could help it.
Tamika was desperate to contact Brian and Charles. Given the situation, she was certain they would help her no questions asked.
But how could she call them with no cell phone? Even worse, she forgot to write their numbers on a piece of paper or commit them to memory before ditching her cell phone. So even a payphone was useless to her now. And since she never took to social media, she had no idea how to contact either of them online.
Tamika Moseley felt all alone in the world. Until she found a way to make contact with Brian and Charles, it would remain just her and Cocoa against the world.
Tamika couldn’t speak for Cocoa, but she didn’t like their odds.
35
TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE PEACE TREATY SIGNING
THE ELEVATOR CAME TO an abrupt stop. Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings stepped off the elevator car. Both were blindfolded.
The two men had no idea they’d been dropped inside a mountain of all places, a very secure mountain. Nor did they know about the hundreds of other locations like this scattered all across the United States.
Only the select few knew they existed, including many in Congress. But even they were under the impression that this particular location was one of the lost, forgotten properties of the cold war era, paid for by U.S. tax-payers way back when.
For all they knew this sub-terrain location, along with many others like it, were demolished long ago, making it the perfect place for a clandestine meeting. Especially since it had secretly been revamped with all the latest high-tech, non-traceable, devices known to man
This particular location was built 300 feet beneath the Earth’s surface, 50 miles west of Washington D.C., in an uninhabited part of the foothill mountains of northern Virginia. In all, the three-story shelter took up 10,000 square feet of subterranean space
But Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings knew none of this. Nor did they know whose presence they would soon be in. All they knew was both were summoned to Washington D.C. and told not to be followed by anyone. No exceptions or excuses.
After being searched by two military personnel and checked for weapons, their mobile devices were temporarily confiscated. Both men were blindfolded then placed in the back of a black Chevy suburban with government tags, then driven to this location.
Even visually impaired, they never sensed they were in any sort of danger. Once their blindfolds were removed, a man dressed in Marine fatigues led them to a conference room large enough for 30 people. They were told to be seated
Their shock knew no bounds when President Jefferson Danforth suddenly appeared from another door built into the wall. Both men rose to their feet and extended their hands.
“Relax, gentlemen,” the President said. “Take a seat. This is an informal meeting. I only have a few minutes to spare so let me be brief. The only reason I’m meeting with you in person is that I keep seeing the two of you in my dreams. Care to tell me why?”
Holmes and Hartings glanced at each other and exchanged looks of disbelief.
“Well...,” Travis Hartings said, sheepishly.
Placing drone and satellite reconnaissance photos in front of the ETSM co-founders—taken by FBI and CIA agents—President Danforth came straight to the point: “Could it have anything to do with the meeting you recently had?”
Holmes and Hartings stiffened in their seats. They couldn’t fathom how they’d possibly been spied on. Their eyes widened. Clayton Holmes said, “You know about our meeting?
“Yes, gentlemen, you were being staked out from start to finish. Two hundred and fifty locations, right?”
Without saying a word, the two co-founders nodded yes in defeat.
“American intelligence agencies are far more advanced than you can imagine. Your little operation, gentlemen, while lofty, posed little challenge to us. As far as we can tell, no one else was spying on you. We don’t think anyone else had the resources to. You were lucky. But that will soon change.
Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings felt like two kids who’d just been caught red-handed by their parents for doing something mischievous. Only in this case it was the U.S. Government.
President Danforth went on, “If you are to survive in the future, you’ll need to be better prepared and equipped. Can you imagine the kind of technology Romanero will soon have at his disposal? It’s just a matter of time before he has the ability to potentially breach even our nation’s military-strength security systems.”
“Are we to assume you’re no fan of Salvador Romanero?” Travis Hartings asked
“Why do you think I want to help you?”
>
“We’re grateful, Mister President, we really are, but...
“But what?
“With so much at stake, we’re extremely careful with whom we share our plans.
The glare on President Danforth’s face screamed, Are you kidding me? “Apparently not careful enough, gentlemen. Without my help, it’s just a matter of time before Romanero squashes you. If you try pulling off something like this in the future, his forces will be all over you before you even know what hit you.”
“We’re mindful of that, Mister President.” Travis Hartings said.
The President looked at his watch. “The choice is yours, gentlemen. Sorry to cut this short, bu
I have a very busy schedule.” Steadying his gaze on the two men, he said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to go it alone. It’s about to get ugly.”
“We know that, Sir, and we appreciate your offer to help us. More than you know!” Travis Hartings said. “But first we need to pray about it.”
“Pray? Are you serious?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You must really buy into everything you preach on.”
“With everything that is in us, Sir.”
President Danforth paused a moment: “What if you’re wrong? I mean, how can you know for sure there’s a God listening on the other end of your prayers?”
Hartings said, “Oh, He’s there alright. And since He’s in complete control of all things, it’s only reasonable that we take all things to Him in prayer.”
“I see.” That’s deep, President Danforth thought.
Knowing the meeting was about to end, Clayton Holmes leaned forward in his chair. Sensing the President was soul searching, he couldn’t resist. “Mister President, can I ask?”
President Danforth nodded yes.
“You seem well informed of what’s headed our way, Sir, but when you say it’s about to get ugly, from what source do you draw such knowledge?”
“My approval numbers may be dropping, but I still have access to all the trappings my position affords, including the best technologies on the planet.”
“I was hoping you’d say you got it from the Bible.”
“Look, I know you believe we’re presently situated in between chapters four and five of the Book of Revelation, right?”
“That’s right, Mister President. It would be good for you to believe it, too, because it’s one-hundred percent accurate. So, the real question is do you have eternal assurance through Christ Jesus?”
President Danforth gave Clayton Holmes a sideways look.
“In other words,” Travis Hartings interjected, “if your life came to an end today, where will you spend your eternity?”
The President rubbed his chin with his right hand, “I knew what he meant.”
Holmes leaned back in his chair, “Mister President, the Lord Jesus Christ is, and always has been, the Lord of all creation. Blessed are those who understand this and call Him ‘Lord and Savior’ this side of eternity.”
Travis Hartings chimed in, “Pardon me for saying this, Sir, but without exception, everyone, including you, will call Jesus, ‘King of kings and Lord of lords’ on the other side. But only those who believe it on this side have eternal assurance through Him.”
President Danforth gulped hard. “I’ve given this a lot of thought lately. Still not sure what to believe. All I know is my days at the White House are numbered. I can feel it with every fiber of my being.”
“I can only imagine how you feel, Mister President, but you must know you’re fighting a losing battle. Not even the strongest military in the world can stop what’s coming. After all, it’s written. I don’t know what will become of your Presidency, Sir, but despite how long you remain in office, nothing can prevent you from standing before God someday. Then comes the real judgment, the eternal judgment.”
“I admire your bravery, gentlemen, foolish as it is.”
“No disrespect, Mister President,” Clayton Holmes said, “but even more foolish would be to leave this planet without first trusting in Jesus as Lord and Savior. Come Judgment Day, if God sees Jesus standing in your place, He’ll welcome you Home as one of His children. But if he sees you standing before Him without Jesus, you’ll be...” Holmes paused.
“Yeah?” President Danforth asked.
Holmes’ eyes expressed a growing concern. “Doomed, Sir, eternally doomed. No one is excused from this, not even kings and presidents.”
At first the President’s green eyes narrowed and turned steely-gray, as he pondered what Holmes had just said. It hit him hard. The seven words he kept hearing in his dream came to mind, this is your last shot at redemption!
President Danforth raised his right hand as if to say something in defense, then backpedaled. “Yeah. I heard your call to salvation on your website. I also read the verses about the redeemed souls being too many to count...”
“You’re looking at two of them. Perhaps you should take them more seriously, Mister President, because only we redeemed Tribulation Saints will be spared the fullness of God’s eternal wrath.”
President Danforth gulped hard. “Perhaps we can continue this another time.” This is your last shot at redemption! This is your last shot at redemption! The President tried blinking away the dreadful thought, but he couldn’t. This is your last shot at redemption!
“Nothing would please us more, Mister President,” Travis Hartings said. “Until that day comes, just know we’re praying that God will open your eyes and ears to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We’ll also be praying for the First Lady.”
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this meeting needs to remain confidential. It other words, it never happened.”
“We understand, Sir, and wholeheartedly agree with you,” Travis Hartings said. “Like you said, it never happened.”
“Very good. In the meantime, let’s set up a meeting between your top minds and mine regarding your future security. For starters, let’s see if we can better equip you with military-strength encryption technology.”
Clayton glanced over at Travis. “It would help, right?”
Hartings shrugged his shoulders and nodded yes.
“Okay then, consider it done,” President Danforth said. “Expect someone to contact you in the coming weeks regarding this matter.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” Travis Hartings said, extending his right hand.
When President Danforth shook Clayton Holmes’ hand, he knew his guest still had something of importance to say. It was written all over his face. “What is it, Clayton?”
“Just this, if you have Jesus, Sir, you have all you need. But if you don’t have Jesus, even with the many trappings you have as President, you have nothing.”
The President was taken aback by Holmes’ words. Yet, for whatever reason, he was also comforted by them. “I’ll take that under advisement, gentlemen. Safe travels back to wherever it is you’re going.”
At that, America’s highest civil servant—at least for the time being—left through the same door from which he entered, and the two ETSM leaders were blindfolded and led to the elevator, then escorted back to Washington D.C.
Holmes and Hartings both had a sinking feeling that President Danforth knew exactly where they were going, and would always know their whereabouts from this point forward...
They also sensed God was changing his heart and he was slowly but surely surrendering to the pull of the Holy Spirit…
36
PASSOVER WEEK
WHAT HAD BEEN DUBBED the most unstable part of the world since the late-1940s—the Middle East—was finally about to realize peace in her streets this Passover holiday.
After so many failed attempts to bring lasting peace to the Middle East, it was finally within reach. All across Israel—from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv to Haifa—Jews and Palestinians openly embraced in the streets, even exchanging gifts with one another.
To see teenage Jews and Muslims playing together in the streets of Jerusalem, without
parental supervision or protesting—as if they’d been friends for life—was a beautiful thing to witness. While this was common in some circles even before the Rapture, to see it so widespread was quite remarkable; miraculous even.
This was only one of the many miracles Salvador Romanero, a man no one knew anything about just a few short months before, had orchestrated since rising to power.
Thirty miles northwest of Jerusalem, at Ben Gurion International Airport, in Tel Aviv, commercial planes and private jets—owned by some of Planet Earth’s most famous and influential people—landed one after another.
To help with the onslaught of celebrities, dignitaries and business moguls, limousine drivers were brought in from Jordan, Lebanon, Syria and Egypt—Israel’s staunch enemies for many decades—to help transport the world’s elite to the poshest hotels, homes and high rise condominiums in Jerusalem.
Dubbed the “hottest ticket in the history of Israel”, Jerusalem was the place to be. Celebration festivities had been ongoing. They would continue throughout the week, as the Holy Land welcomed the world’s elite to celebrate peace with them and pay homage to the man responsible for it all, their beloved Salvador Romanero.
In all, more than 50,000 of the world’s most well-known people were invited. Salvador Romanero promised it would be the event of a lifetime.
Not even the Oscar’s in Hollywood or the Cannes Film Festival in France could compete with it. Tinsel Town’s finest applauded everything the Miracle Maker stood for and would document this life-altering moment for future generations to enjoy.
This time last year people were being killed in record numbers all throughout the Middle East. But thanks to Salvador Romanero, bombs were being dismantled, guns were holstered and even destroyed, as the promise of peace lay thick in the air.
The media had Jerusalem wired from all angles. Press members on Salvador Romanero’s A-List were given the choicest locations from which to broadcast. They interviewed the world’s elite as they moseyed along the streets of the Holy Land, visiting the sites and frequenting restaurants, pubs and shops.
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