However, it was now late in the afternoon, and she could tell that the sun set would be spectacular. Standing up she made her way to her bag and took out two ice-cold beers. It was time to celebrate. She noticed his face light up.
"Any other surprises you have in that bag?" he asked while eyeing out the beers.
"Yes, I know, I’m brilliant, so tell me: am I not just the perfect host?" she said while opening the beers.
"Now, don't you agree it's time we celebrated your recovery?"
He smiled at her with a glimmer of affection!
"I wish I could stay here a little longer Nicole, I really do, but it's not safe," he said.
"What? This is the safest place in the world and you have me to protect you."
There I go again, Nicole thought.
Nathan took another sip of the ice-cold beer.
"Nicole, it's just a matter of time before they start looking for me, you must know this. I cannot put you or your family at risk any longer. I need to go and warn the others, so I was wondering if you could drive me part of the way."
"Sure I don’t mind, but why don't you just call them? Here, you can use mine," Nicole said as she began to unclip the iBand from her wrist.
"Really Nathan, it's much easier than walking."
"Yes, I know, and so much easier to trace you that way." He said as he finished his beer.
Nicole felt a little stupid, why did she not think of that.
"Remember, they are monitoring everything in this area. All communications will be scanned. Unless we speak in code, they will pick up on any conversations. The software they use for tracking is state-of-the-art. We used to use it as well." He stopped talking.
"Sorry, you said you used it?" Nicole asked.
"Yes, when I was still in the Army. I know that was a few years ago, but I am sure they still utilize the same tactics."
He put his empty beer bottle down; she could tell he wanted another.
"We’re living in a world you know very little about."
She did not like the tone of his voice.
"Sorry, what do you mean, exactly?"
"This world we live in is controlled by very powerful organizations, not just governments or the UWN, as we're led to believe. They control everything and care about nothing at all except themselves and the riches they can acquire. We're living in the end times. You do know what that means, Nicole?"
"No, what do you mean; that life is going to come to an end? No sorry, I don't believe that for one second!" she replied, looking at him over her shoulder.
"It doesn't matter what you or I believe, Nicole. What matters are the facts which have been kept from the majority of the population for a long time."
"Oh, so now you know things that no one else knows!?" She was working herself up, just like her mother did. Perhaps it ran in the family. They had spent many hours talking, but not like this.
Nathan took the second beer Nicole handed him as she sat down bedside him on the camping chair.
"Ok, let's take this as an example; you call yourself a Christian, right?" he asked.
"Ja, you know I do."
"So you believe in Jesus Christ; is that right?"
"Why are we doing this?" Nicole began feeling uncomfortable.
"Trust me, you will see." Nicole did not like this.
He looked at her and smiled.
"I know you believe in God and this makes you a good Christian. But don't you think you'll be better prepared to defend your faith if you knew a little more about it?"
She just looked at him for a moment not saying anything.
"Take for instance what you have just said, that you believe in Jesus. Okay, who is this Jesus you believe in so much?" Nathan asked with some belittlement in his voice.
"He’s my Lord and Savior, as in the Bible," she said, starting to get a little angry.
"Okay, I know, but if I told you His name was not Jesus at all, and praying to any other name except His correct name, Yahushua, is a sin. What would you say about that?"
She looked at him for a while and took another sip of beer.
"Sorry, Nathan, what do you mean, His name is not Jesus?"
"Well, it's not. Ask any true Biblical scholar and they will tell you. Jesus is a Greek name for Him. But His Hebrew name is Yahushua or Yeshua, as He is fondly referred too. So, for that precise reason alone, why have they not taught you the correct name at church or in school? Because trust me, I know the Bible and it says that under no other name will you be saved, so I think the right name does matter."
Nicole just sat there looking at him, not having any answers.
"The common Christian beliefs we standby are so deeply shrouded in paganism; every big event has Satan's stamp all over it, no matter how you try to Christianize it. Let's take Christmas for instance. This is supposed to be the so-called birth of Christ. What a lie. There was no way he was born during that time of year anyway. Once again, ask any true scholar this simple question. He was probably born sometime in July or August," Nathan said.
Nicole could see he was getting worked up now.
"The Bible says the Sheppard's had their flocks out at night. That only happens in the summer when it's hot, but during December it's bitterly cold in Israel. Anyway, if that’s not enough to make you take notice! The original festival of 25 December originates from ancient Babylon, where they worshipped false gods, and the so-called Christian leaders know this, especially those at the Vatican. So, you see: even the birth of Christ has been sold to the ignorant Christian masses to deceive them into spending billions every year buying gifts and in a way supporting these false gods," Nathan continued.
"It even says in the Bible that we humans will choose our own desires over God's truth in the end times."
Nathan had wanted to be a preacher, but his father already carried that banner for the family. Nicole knew they had far too few beers to complete this conversation, but she loved it. Her father would have much to say about this……finally, a conversation to make you think.
"So, in a nut shell, are you saying that Christmas is wrong?" she responded, cracking open another beer.
"It's not what I say Nicole that matters; it's the Word of God that matters. For the Lord said that we are to have nothing to do with false gods or false worship. So please, show me where in the Bible does it say anything about Christ's date of birth or what we are supposed to do to celebrate it? And let's not talk about the pagan Christmas trees."
She was definitely drinking faster than him.
"Nicole, have you never desired to know the real truth about the world, or are you happy accepting things the way they are?"
"Nathan, you may know a lot more that I do, but do not say I'm not a Christian," she replied.
"I never said that, and if I did then I am truly sorry. It’s just that it’s time for you to open your eyes and see the world from a clear perspective. Not that that's possible these days, as we have all been brainwashed to some extent anyway. Take me for example: I was born in the United States, spent most of my life there and only four years in Israel doing my national service. That was my father's idea, as he thought I should do my part for the Jewish State. Being born Jewish is not like being Israeli. They are a different bunch of people. Yes, I was born in America but my soul was born in Israel, so to speak. I always thought the Christians, Jews and Muslims all worshiped the same God anyway, yet, it was my father who, as a staunch Jew, found Yahushua and the light of Christ."
Nathan rested his leg on one of the bags Nicole brought along, as it still pained him from time to time.
"My father is still viewed as a heretic by his Jewish friends, but you must hear him speak. His words are so powerful and moving. I tried to reason with him from my point of view, which at the time was based on ignorance. I honestly thought that all I needed to know about God, I already knew. How stupid was that. Anyway, Israel was the best experience for me, and the worst. I did things I wish I could forget."
Nathan looked
away, but Nicole could see the memories haunted him.
"Sometimes it's best to forget the things of the past," she said.
He looked back at her and smiled.
"Perhaps you are right," he replied.
"I'm sure that was a long time ago Nathan. Anyway, the world has changed so much since then." She stood up again to stretch her legs.
"I don't remember Apartheid much, but my Father told me it was terrible for the Blacks."
This conversation was becoming very emotional on both sides.
"So, Nathan, what are you saying? That if I died tonight I would go to hell?"
He did not like the way she was looking at him, perhaps they had ventured too far into uncharted territory.
"No, listen very carefully to me, you are saved," he said, making his way slowly over to where she was standing.
"The Blood of Christ has saved you completely; you're saved because Yeshua loves you more than you could ever know, even in your ignorance. Remember, we have all been manipulated through the centuries by religions and governments. So, you must choose my dear, if you want to follow God in truth or in blindness. For me it's too late, I could never follow blindly any church that knowingly teaches half-truths. Whether you like it or not, we're living in the end times, and that's why we must speak out and be a voice to be heard."
She felt helpless and exposed. He had shaken her foundation and her soul like no other. It was too late for her; he had changed something and Nicole would never be the same.
"Nathan, I wish I'd never met you because you make me weak and strong at the same time," she said, turning to him.
"You have done something to me that cannot be undone, one moment I wish I’d never met you, and the next moment I cannot live without you. It's not fair, this thing that you have done to me!"
With the sunset almost upon them, their time together was running out as the light began to fade. For the first time in her life, her soul was disturbed by what he had said. She felt a little scared but also excited and alive.
Chapter 7
"You bleed then you cry. You wonder why.
So learn to fight or chose to die."
Nathan Cohen - Captured Diary
It was fascinating to see, of all the new prisoners……. who would break first? On countless occasions the tough ones usually gave in first, crying like babies. Kindness also worked just as effectively on subjects who knew their fate. Giving them hope right to the very last second, only to remove it once the information was extracted. Dead weight was always disregarded, dumped and forgotten.
Steenkamp had spent countless hours training others in the art of interrogation; even prisoners he knew were innocent, soon confessed to crimes they never committed. It was really an experimental exercise in proving just how ineffective torture was, but it had to be done regardless. On some occasions, especially with the difficult cases Steenkamp would get personal, as it always worked best. Some of the other interrogators tried to emulate him, but they lacked his strategy. Breaking the mind was far more difficult than the body. Giving them hope was the only way for them to cooperate, even if it meant giving them optimism right to the very last second, the very last breath.
The echo of footsteps in the corridor always brought terror to those who listened and waited. Army boots meant thugs, shoes, the interrogators. Silence, however, would always be replaced with terrified screams when soldiers dragged their next prisoner further down the corridor and behind the gray steel door at the end of the passage.
She listened and prayed as the footsteps got louder and louder until they came to a sudden and abrupt stop outside her door. Something was out of place, she could tell.
'Please, Lord, let it be someone else,' she prayed silently to herself, trying not to make a sound.
At only seventeen she had already aged many years from all the screaming and shouting over the last few days. Her tears too had all but dried up as she lay naked and shivering on the cold, hard floor.
"This is her, Chantel van Tonder," the soldier said as he tapped on the door.
Instantly she began crying again. Her body went into another uncontrollable spasm as the door opened and they dragged her out into the passageway.
"Stand!" the guard commanded her, but she couldn't and collapsed on the floor. The guard hit her across the legs with the baton as she lay curled up into a ball on the floor trying to avoid the next blow.
Steenkamp stood and watched, but he knew from her body language that she was spent.
'Hold her!" he commanded, and the two guards held her up so he could have a better look.
She still seemed healthy and strong physically, but mentally she was almost broken.
Chantel tried to cover up, but they saw her nakedness anyway. Feeling exposed, she began crying again, shivering as the guards held her firm.
"Ah, shut up," Steenkamp said without raising his voice too much.
"Maybe she'll do." Steenkamp spoke to Modisa who stood behind him.
"Perhaps we should use someone older, maybe she's too young."
Chantel had no idea what they were talking about. The men just stood staring at her.
"Okay, let's give her a chance, but first she needs to see what will happen if she fails us," Steenkamp said as he gave the order.
Chantel did not know what to expect, until the soldier with the dog came around the corner. Instantly, the huge Rottweiler began to focus on her as the two soldiers stood back, leaving her to collapse on the floor again. Her bladder could not hold, and she wet herself as her terrified eyes focused on the huge dog being un-muzzled.
"Please no, no sir, please, I will do anything that…," she tried to speak, but was cut short as the huge dog lunged forward against its chain.
This was a killer dog, highly trained for interrogations and for executions, as it had acquired a taste for human blood. Its murderous instinct was now driving it forward, closer and closer for more.
The Rottweiler was named Brutus, and it had been busy all night in another section dealing with a difficult prisoner. It came closer until she could smell its breath. Pulling her legs up into the fetal position, Chantel screamed again, pleading for them to stop. Her screams were heard by all in the cell block as the huge dog sunk its teeth into her tender thigh.
Steenkamp just nodded as the handler pulled the dog away and stood at the ready. Modisa was not enjoying this assignment at all, and he did not know why he had to be part of the interrogating process. His job was primarily to arrest and detain. To torture a soldier is one thing; far more acceptable than torturing a young woman. What would his mother say?
A female medic, standing in the far corner, came quickly to inspect the wounds where the dog had taken a bite at Chantel. Just a simple nod and she knew what Steenkamp wanted. She had assisted him on many such interrogations, yet they never exchanged more than a few words.
Chantel was bleeding heavily and the floor was a mess of blood and urine.
"She is about to go into shock," the medic said.
"I refuse to lose another one today, Sir," she complained. Sleep and food deprivation had drained the prisoners of much strength. Many had died over the last two weeks.
They stood looking at Steenkamp, who was still contemplating the remark.
"Okay, that’s enough for now, stitch her up, and get something for her to wear."
Chantel was struggling to breathe as Steenkamp bent down to whisper into her ears.
"I will feed you to this fucking dog myself if you let me down. Now clean her up. This place smells like shit!" he said as he walked away.
His shoes made a distinctive squeak as he left the holding block which still smelled of disinfectant. Helping Chantel up, the medic took a blanket and draped it around her. She ordered the two guards to take the prisoner to the infirmary. But she was no more than a few paces when Chantel collapsed, fainting from exhaustion. Perhaps that was a blessing, as she did not remember anything else until she woke up a few hours later in her clean hospital
bed. It was warm and she was fully clothed.
Looking around, Chantel was very much alone, except for one other patient on the other side of the ward. The smell of hospital flooded her nostrils while she heard the faint sound of a radio, and it was heavenly. Some sense of normality. Perhaps it was just a dream, she thought, but that changed quickly when Steenkamp came into view.
He was wearing a suit and a tie this time. It was strange to see the man out of his working uniform, he almost looked human, but as he reached her bed he stopped and looked down at her and shook his head.
"Are you ok?" he asked, with a slight hint of concern.
"I will look after you now, seeing that you're working for me. Do you understand?"
It took Chantel a moment to register.
"Yes," she said, not sure what he had in mind.
"Good, you should be better in a day or two, we have a meeting to go to."
Grabbing Chantel’s wrist, he looked at the bandage that was covering the fine stitches that concealed the ISIS microchip they had embedded under her skin.
"I see they have installed your tag. That's a good sign, all our troops get the chip; it's for identification and tracking. Now you are one of us."
He would tell her a little lie later on that inside this chip is a poisonous serum that can be released via a radio frequency signal. That should keep her obedient and in place. At any time they considered her a liability, they simply terminate the arrangement.
"Tomorrow I will brief you as to your assignment, so get some rest."
There were no words to say. Chantel had somehow made a pact with the devil himself, and she still had no idea what he wanted from her. But God knows another day in that cell would have killed her for sure.
"The nurse tells me you are eating all your food. That’s good - you need to regain your strength as soon as possible," he said as he turned away, strolling leisurely down the corridor.
"You're having cottage pie for lunch."
True to his word, Chantel was supplied with a new set of clothing and as much food as she wanted to eat. Steenkamp had briefly explained to her what they expected from her before he left the prison complex and her in the care of Lt. Modisa.
Dawn of Defiance Page 7