The Countering

by Patrick Higgins

  Those interviewed had a certain sparkle in their eyes and luminous glow on their faces. Many wore shirts and hats with white doves embroidered on them and were giddy with laughter. And why not? With the dawn of a new utopia finally upon them, wasn’t this the way one should act?

  With Salvador Romanero at the helm of the ship, most were confident things would keep sailing in the right direction. Something far greater lay on the horizon. Humanity was headed to a much higher echelon, beginning with today’s historical peace treaty signing.

  Life would never revert back to how it had once been. There was great cause for optimism.

  Or so they thought...

  Those not fortunate to be in Israel—the vast majority—were glued to their televisions, computers, and mobile devices watching everything as it unfolded. They felt lucky to have the chance to live vicariously through their favorite business moguls, celebrities and world-class athletes in the comfort of their homes, without spending money they didn’t have anyway.

  By stretching society’s boundaries the way Romanero had, restrictions found in parties prior to last November were nowhere to be found in Israel. The world got to watch their heroes and heroines drinking heavily, popping pills, snorting cocaine, poking needles full of drugs into their veins, and freely engaging in sex with one another.

  When interviewed, partially dressed celebrities told the viewing public that what they were experiencing in Israel was but a tiny glimpse into a promising and exciting future for everyone.

  “The days of inhibition are forever gone!” declared an intoxicated world-famous super model on live television, wearing only a towel. “It’s time to stop talking about loving our neighbors and just do it—spiritually, emotionally and physically! I love you all so very much!” She removed her towel and exposed herself for all to see, then rejoined the orgy inside her hotel room.

  Most were clearly in favor of this new “without limits” lifestyle.

  There had yet to be a Salvador Romanero sighting anywhere in Jerusalem. True to his word, the Miracle Maker remained secluded all week, despite the many parties being given in his honor.

  He was too busy dotting I’s and crossing T’s in his historical speech to participate in the festivities. Not only that, had he gone to any of them, chances were good he might be touched by someone at some point.

  Noticeably different from three months ago, when Romanero announced the signing of the peace treaty with Israel, was that many of the protesters lining the streets hurling insults at him were nowhere to be found. And for good reason.

  Those who were identified by facial recognition technology were located and incarcerated. Some were even slain.

  But they weren’t the only ones. Everyone interviewed on TV and online the past few weeks, who’d spoken out against Salvador Romanero for any reason—thousands in all—had already been killed. This was only the beginning.

  The Salvador Romanero “dissident” killing machine was about to go into full swing...

  Dissident number one was the Crown Prince of Spain. Now that the King had formally abdicated and passed the crown on to his son, Javier, Romanero was merely waiting for the perfect time to publicly execute him. He wanted to send a very strong message.

  But with peace heavy in the air, now wasn’t the time.

  Romanero felt it would happen soon...

  37

  BRIAN MULROONEY AND JACQUELYN Swindell were studying the Book of Daniel, verse-by-verse, when Brian’s cell phone rang.

  Brian vaguely recognized the number. “Hello?

  “Hi, Brian. It’s Tom Dunleavey.

  Tom? His ears perked up. “Hi. How are you?

  “A whole lot better than last time we saw each other.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that. Wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again.”

  “That’s what I thought, too, when we parted company.”

  Mulrooney sighed, “Sorry for some of the things I said that may have rubbed you the wrong way.

  “Once you hear what I have to say, you’ll see there’s no need to apologize to me.”

  Brian leaned up on the couch and muted the TV. It was always on in case news broke in Jerusalem. He then put the speaker on so Jacquelyn could listen, “Tell me then. I’m all ears.”

  There was a pause. “One thing I never told you was that I also had a dream. That’s why I came to your apartment in the first place. You can imagine my surprise when you told me about your dream, especially since it was similar to mine. To say I was shocked would be putting it mildly.”

  “Joel two, twenty-eight and nine, right?” Jacquelyn whispered softly.

  Brian nodded yes.

  “My reason for not telling you was twofold: first I admit I was embarrassed, being a Catholic priest and all.” Tom Dunleavey grimaced. “Second, my dream didn’t end like yours. Instead of seeing Jesus standing in a serene harvest field like you did, I saw myself standing before an angry God feeling totally condemned. It was the most terrifying sensation of my life. I still shiver when I think of it.

  “Who was I to think I could somehow absolve anyone’s sins, or think man-made images could represent a likeness of the Most High God? I was foolish to think such things. By praying to man-made statues and other images, which I admit I did, my thoughts about God came more from a human perspective than anything else. How could I possibly compare God to anything man-made? Talk about the ultimate contradiction!”

  “Well put,” Brian agreed.

  “We’re supposed to become more like God, not the other way around. His ways are so much higher than our ways.” There was sniffling. “Now that I’ve been freed from the bondage of religion, nothing will take place of the Word of God ever again.”

  “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “Yes, Brian, I’ve been forgiven all my sins through Christ Jesus,” Tom Dunleavey said, his voice cracking, “and no longer stand condemned before my Maker.”

  “Hallelujah!” Brian shouted. “I can’t help but marvel at the awesomeness of God!” ]

  “From the bottom of my heart, thanks for being obedient to God and for being so hard on me the day we met. It was exactly what I needed. And I’m convinced God used you to expose me as a false convert breeding other false converts.”

  “You’re welcome, Father Dun...I mean, sir.”

  “Please, call me Tom. Or better yet, brother Tom.”

  “Okay, brother Tom it is.” You’re amazing, Father!

  “It wasn’t easy for me to accept I was preaching a false gospel all my life. How prideful I was! I’ve since abandoned all focal points in the church that once stood between me and my Maker.”

  Tears rushed to Brian Mulrooney’s eyes. “You have no idea how this makes me feel.”

  “Oh, but I do, Brian. My recent conversion is already bearing fruit. Been sharing the true Gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone, including during mass. And in case you’re wondering, there hasn’t been any smoke coming out of me.”

  Brian burst into laughter.

  Tom Dunleavey grew more serious, “It feels good standing on the Word of God and preaching the whole Truth for a change. The difference it’s making for many in my parish is nothing short of miraculous. Many have since come to faith in Jesus Christ, including three priests and two nuns.”

  “Amen!” Brian shouted.

  Jacquelyn whispered the same thing under her breath.

  “Yes, and I haven’t even told you everything. Ready for this?”

  “Go on.”

  “All new born-again believers have confessed to having similar dreams. They even saw demons fleeing statues like we did.”

  Brian shook his head in wonderment, “Simply amazing!”

  “We no longer pray the rosary, say Hail Mary’s or pray to other saints. All we want from this point forward is Jesus, just Jesus!”

  Brian Mulrooney’s joy knew no bounds. “What an awesome testimony you have, brother Tom!”

  “Indeed. The bad new
s is I’ve already been reprimanded by the Church on two separate occasions. They warned that if I keep sharing messages that aren’t part of the curriculum, so to speak, I’ll face stiff discipline. With so many leaving the Church, the higher-ups have become extremely paranoid.”

  “So, what will you do?”

  “Keep preaching the Word, brother. If they punish me for speaking the Truth, it’s between them and God. I love the people in my parish and feel it’s my duty to share the true Gospel with them, despite what my still-blinded superiors might think. So, in that sense, you and I have the same Mission; to pull many Catholics away from the religiosity of the church.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Why don’t you come this Sunday? It would be good to see you again.”

  “I’d love to, brother Tom. Would be nice to meet new brothers and sisters in Christ.”

  “They already know about our meeting and are just as eager to meet you.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Me too, Brian. Until then, may God bless and keep you.”

  “Same to you, brother Tom. Oh, and one more thing...”

  “Yes?”

  “Keep fighting the Good fight. Pray for me as I pray for you. God is with us.”

  “Thanks for the encouraging words! Same to you, brother!”

  At that, the call ended.

  “Care to join me on Sunday?”

  “I’d love to,” Jacquelyn said.

  “Hope we can tell him about the ETSM someday. Wouldn’t that be great?”

  Jacquelyn smiled. It quickly faded. This incident made her think of her late husband, Tom, who was now in Hades waiting his eternal sentence. One Tom saved; the other Tom eternally doomed.

  In a way, Jacquelyn identified with Charles Calloway. She, too, would never exist on the same plane as her late husband. But at least Charles would see his family again. She had no hope of that with Tom.

  Sensing her thoughts, Brian wrapped his arm around Jacquelyn and pulled her close to him. He remained silent as his girlfriend released every last tear she had for her late husband.

  Though her heart now beat strongly for Brian Mulrooney, this realization was a painful thorn in her side. Only it was felt in the heart.

  Finished weeping, Jacquelyn looked deep into Brian’s eyes. “Thanks for always being there for me.”

  “You’re welcome, Jacquelyn. Now, where were we? Chapter eight, I think...”

  Jacquelyn nodded yes and smiled wearily.

  38

  11:19 A.M. - THE DAY OF THE SIGNING

  WITH LESS THAN AN hour to go before the historical peace treaty signing, throngs of people of all nations and tongues crammed the streets of the Holy Land, hoping to get as close to the action as they possibly could.

  While many had partied into the wee hours of the morning at various star-studded galas citywide, those closest to the Western Wall vicinity had been camped out there for many days.

  To help pass the time, they sang songs together, took selfies, chatted online, and meditated corporately for world peace.

  To ensure there wouldn’t be a bad viewing space anywhere in Jerusalem, large forty-by-eighty foot projection screens were hoisted twenty feet in the air all throughout the city.

  Absolutely no expense was spared.

  Earlier in the week, Romanero tweeted to his three-billion Twitter followers saying, It’s Passover week for everyone, regardless of geography, creed or religion!

  “This is blasphemy!” his incensed Jewish opposers cried to high Heaven. “Passover is for we Israelis only; no one else!”

  These people refused to participate in the mass hysteria engulfing their beloved Israel. They would remain at home and observe Passover with friends and loved ones in private.

  They didn’t know it yet, but the Most High Yahweh God was steadily chiseling away at their hearts, preparing His Remnant for what Jeremiah recorded nearly 3,000 years ago, in chapter 30, verse 7, “That day is so great there is none like it; it is a time of distress for Jacob; yet he shall be saved out of it”.

  Planet Earth was but a breath away from entering a time of unparalleled distress, yet God’s Remnant would be saved out of it. Their spiritual eyes and ears were being opened like never before.

  But to those with Jewish blood coursing through their veins, whose hearts remained hardened to the ways of God, all they could think about was the here and now. And right now, they wanted peace for their country, not organized religion.

  Expecting things to get a little better each day, like all other followers of Salvador Romanero, they would soon be in for the shock of their warped lives.

  If they thought the past few months were traumatic, they hadn’t seen anything yet. Then again, not even new Christ followers were prepared for what was about to happen.

  Opposition forces had already sounded the battle call…

  SALVADOR ROMANERO WAS ESCORTED from his top-floor palatial suite at the Dan Tel Aviv Hotel. A lone cameraman was permitted in the hallway to capture Romanero’s departure on live television.

  Dressed in a brilliant white suit, Romanero looked like the most beautiful person in the universe. Every strand of hair was in place. His radiant skin made him look like an angel of light.

  With his right hand, he flashed his now-famous customary peace sign, quickly forming a circle with his right hand, signifying world peace for all.

  The large crowd in Israel watching on jumbotron screens erupted. What made this so ironic was—aside from the Pope, Romanero’s parents and his personal entourage—no one knew the Miracle Maker had even left Jerusalem for the coastal city. Everyone thought he was at the King David Hotel, including most of his security team and all employees working there.

  Thinking they were protecting their most cherished guest from the outside world, the King David Hotel went into full lock down mode at 9 a.m., meaning no one was allowed in or out—period!

  This kind of security had never been offered to any other world leader before. But then again, they weren’t Salvador Romanero!

  Hotel guests were free to remain in their rooms if they wanted to watch the peace treaty signing on TV, but they weren’t permitted to loiter in the lobby until after the Man of Peace was safely back inside his suite on the top floor, whenever that might be.

  But no one seemed to mind. Just staying under the same roof as Salvador Romanero was well worth the minor inconvenience. As it was, many hotel guests boasted of feeling this overwhelming energy in the hotel that couldn’t be explained to those not staying there.

  All they could say was that it wrapped itself around them soothing and energizing them simultaneously. Most likened it to having a prolonged religious experience.

  Romanero was taken to a nearby helipad where a chopper was waiting to shuttle him from Tel Aviv to the Mount of Olives. His parents followed closely behind, careful not to touch their son.

  A mysterious-looking man walked a few steps behind them, dressed from head to toe in what could only be described as futuristic religious garb. His face was completely covered.

  For now, only Salvador Romanero and his parents knew it was the Pope.

  At the crack of dawn, as many in the region slept, Romanero was whisked out of his palatial suite at the King David Hotel. He told his entourage he wanted to escape the mass hysteria in Jerusalem. But that wasn’t the real reason.

  Instead of being driven from the King David Hotel to the Mount of Olives by limousine, his desire was to descend from the sky, landing ever so gracefully on the Mount of Olives with the eyes of the world on him, then mounting a majestic white stallion.

  When the chopper lifted off in Tel Aviv, everyone in the Holy Land rejoiced, along with the billions watching online and on TV.

  Once the media got wind that Romanero was in Tel Aviv, they scrambled to make sure their cameras were trained on his chopper as it made its way toward the Holy Land.

  The world’s super elite, including notable Israelis, Palestinians, Jordanians, Syrians
, Egyptians and Lebanese, all rushed to claim their reserved seats.

  It was show time...

  39

  CLAYTON HOLMES AND TRAVIS Hartings were at the cabin in Tennessee, making final preparations, before going to Atlanta in the morning to hopefully purchase seven properties for their rapidly expanding Christian organization.

  Twelve other ETSM members, including Charles Calloway, would join the two founders in Atlanta and meet with a real estate broker, who just happened to be an ETSM member himself.

  From there, they’d go out to inspect the seven properties—two ETSM members per location—and pray over them, seeking God’s wisdom in the matter. Not that there would be much to inspect. All seven were decrepit old properties built on several acres of land, scattered throughout eastern Alabama, northwest Georgia, southwestern South Carolina and southeast Tennessee.

  All were within a hundred miles of Atlanta, Georgia. Once purchased, they would be demolished, then reconstructed to fit the blueprints Travis Hartings laid out at the formation of the End Times Salvation Movement.

  So, in that light, there wouldn’t be much to look at. But knowing just beneath the Earth’s surface, each safe house would be fully mobilized with the most advanced and secure technologies available to man—all thanks to President Jefferson Danforth—they would pray for God’s hedge and shield of protection over the seven properties.

  For now, only Clayton and Travis were mindful of President Danforth’s involvement. As much as they took comfort in his willingness to help protect them, since he wasn’t a Christ follower, if he remained unconverted, it could mean grave danger to the ETSM; especially after the Mark of the Beast was implemented.

  Holmes and Hartings kept praying without ceasing that God would save the President and First Lady out of this sin-stained world, so they wouldn’t end up in hell for an eternity.

  Once the properties were purchased, Holmes and Hartings were still undecided as to which of the seven, if any, would become the official ETSM Headquarters. Until God revealed it to them, they would remain at the cabin in Tennessee until the seven properties were reconstructed.