by Bryan Davis
“Tamiel is crafty,” Mom said. “He teased with information but not quite enough for us to figure everything out, like providing a crossword puzzle with half the clues missing. We know about keys, but what will opening the seventh door reveal? We know that we can do good at the six addresses, but what evils will we face? We need to focus on the fact that everything we’re doing is designed to help Tamiel and no one else.”
“So what do we do?” Matt asked. “We can’t just refuse. He’ll kill Dad.”
“Right. So at each address, we’ll do the good, get the key, and move on, but that doesn’t mean we’ll give him the key later. I’ll do my best to keep the evils from hurting my song. In the meantime, we’ll work on other clues Tamiel gave us. Maybe we can fill out that crossword puzzle.”
“Okay. I’m game. What clues did you hear?”
“For one, he talked about how the world would be destroyed, as if daring us to try to figure it out.”
“Probably just a red herring,” Matt said. “He’s too smart to give away much information.”
“Maybe.” Mom grasped Matt’s shoulder. “There is something that is more obvious, but it’s something Enoch said, that I need to remember the seven trials. When we get to the first address, I’ll know if my suspicions are true.”
“What suspicions?”
“I don’t want to speculate out loud right now.” Her loving smile brightened up the rearview mirror. “Let’s just say that I have spoken to Satan himself face to face, so I have some experience dealing with evil intelligence. If we have a similar experience at the first address, then I’ll tell you more.”
“So what do I do with this?” Darcy asked, lifting the box.
Matt angled his body to raise his hip. “Attach the ring to my belt loop. That’ll make it easier to access.”
Darcy picked up the ring and slid it onto the loop. It continued glowing but not nearly as brightly. When she drew her hands back, she rubbed the base of her right ring finger.
“Did the glow cause an itch?” Matt asked.
“I don’t think so.” She covered her right hand with her left. “It’s nothing.”
Lightning flashed ahead. The storm clouds spread out to each side, now only minutes away. The ride could soon get pretty rough.
“Back to Tamiel’s mystery,” Mom said. “Since he didn’t reveal how destruction will come, it could be a weak spot in his plan. If we could figure it out, it might give us a clue about how to stop him.”
“Okay.” Matt mentally replayed some of the recording. The demon’s words seemed to burn an ugly cattle brand in his mind. “He said something about destruction coming not by a flood of water, and the angel of the abyss awaiting.”
“Right, and the Bible indicates that a final destruction could come by fire.” Mom touched Darcy’s arm. “Please brainstorm with us. Three heads are better than two.”
“Sure.” Darcy put the box on the floorboard and brushed a stray lock from her face. “I’m ready.”
Mom raised a finger. “First part. Not by a flood. Why did Tamiel bring us to this location? How could it be destroyed by fire?”
“Well, we’re still in Nebraska, but we’ll dip south into Kansas soon, not that there’s that much difference.” Matt scanned the flat-lands—brown grass and cornstalk stubs. “Nebraska is the Corn-husker State. Not many trees. A lot of cattle.” He nodded at the windshield. “And it’s windy with plenty of storms and tornadoes.”
“Speaking of windy . . .” Darcy pointed out the window. “Nebraska has windmills. Lots of them.”
Outside, huge white blades spun on at least fifty mills. “Wind turbines,” Matt said. “They’re probably generating power for the area.”
Darcy nodded. “That was my guess, but I don’t see any buildings or even wires to transmit the electricity.”
“Maybe they’re underground.” Matt glanced at Darcy out of the corner of his eye. She was trying to be helpful, even friendly. Suspicions about her treachery felt pretty stupid, but he couldn’t let his guard down. Not yet.
Mom leaned forward. “Matt, you said military thugs brought us here. What military interest is there in Nebraska? There aren’t any borders to patrol, no seaports to maintain. Are there any potential targets to protect?”
A dust devil swirled in a field to the left, lifting grass into a twisting vortex, like a spinning column rising from the ground. The shape raised a similar mental image, another kind of column hidden from all nonmilitary eyes.
“Silos.” A gust pushed the Mustang to the right, making the tires vibrate on the shoulder’s rumble strip. Matt jerked the car back to the lane and kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. “Nebraska has quite a few silos.”
Mom blinked. “Why would the military want to protect grain storage?”
“Not grain silos.” Matt eased up on the accelerator. The speedometer digits now read 53. “I’m talking about underground missile silos. Nuclear weapons.”
“Nuclear?” Darcy shuddered. “Now that’s a real apocalypse.”
Mom whispered, “Not by water but by fire. That fits perfectly.”
Matt shook his head. “That’s too easy. I’ve read at least five novels about nuclear war destroying the world, and since Tamiel talked about my reading habits, he was probably trying to lead us in that direction. And he knows about my military training. Missile silos are an obvious guess. It might be a wild-goose chase.”
“That’s true. But we shouldn’t count it out just because it’s obvious.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Matt let out a sigh. “We’ll keep it in mind.”
“Okay,” Mom said, “let’s see where that idea takes us. How could Tamiel use us to incite a nuclear war?”
Darcy turned the phone her way and looked at the map. “Could one of the places we’re going be a military base?”
“No clue.” Matt shrugged. “The academy didn’t teach where every base is located. I suppose some locations are top secret.”
Mom settled against the back of her seat. “We need Larry or Lois. They could look up those addresses and give us the lowdown in a heartbeat.”
Matt turned the phone back toward himself. “Thirteen miles to the next town. We can try to call them once we get there. Maybe we can borrow someone’s phone.”
“I suppose it won’t hurt to stop at a restaurant,” Mom said. “Tamiel knows we have to eat.”
Matt jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We have food in the back. It stayed cool in the trunk overnight.”
“But we’ll need a restroom.”
“True.” A few big raindrops pelted the windshield, promising many more. As windmills and harvested cornfields flew by, Matt imagined a stop at a gas station. To keep Tamiel from getting suspicious, any stop would have to be quick, but it might take a long time to convince someone to let him borrow a phone, especially with the storm likely pummeling the town. And with most communications now incapacitated, maybe cell phones around here no longer worked.
Not far down the road, an oncoming car pulled out into their lane, trying to pass a slow-moving truck. In seconds, they would collide with it head-on.
Matt swerved to the right. Their Mustang skidded onto the shoulder and grass, bouncing over the rough surfaces. When the oncoming car zoomed by, its horn blared. The driver stuck his arm out the window and displayed an obscene hand gesture.
As rain increased, Matt stopped the car at the side of the road, two wheels on the shoulder and two in the grass. He swiveled his head and checked his passengers. “You guys all right?”
“I’m fine.” Mom gave him a weak smile. “Just a bit jostled.”
Darcy blurted out, “That fool! It was his fault, not ours!”
Matt gave her a searching look. Was this all still an act? “Yeah. Pretty strange.” He turned on the wipers and pulled their car back to the road. As he accelerated on the damp pavement, he looked at his mother in the mirror again. “I was thinking we could call Dad
’s parents’ house to get some computer help, but he said some government geeks are monitoring all of Larry’s communications, so we’ll have to be careful.”
“And clever.” Mom leaned forward and clasped one hand with Matt’s and her other with Darcy’s. “So we’ll pray for wisdom.”
“Um . . . okay . . .” Darcy shifted nervously in her seat. “Praying is good.”
As Matt stared at the road, prickles ran along his skin. “Sure. Go ahead and pray.”
Mom grasped his hand more tightly. “Kind and loving Father . . .” She spoke in a normal tone as if addressing someone sitting in the car. “No matter where I have walked, whether on Earth, Heaven, or Hades, you have always been with me, so I have no doubt that you are with us now. The demon Tamiel is more powerful and crafty than we are, and without your help and guidance, we won’t be able to defeat him. My song is fading, which means we are sure to be confronted by all manner of corruption as Earth dwellers flock to his side. This world is not our true home, so we will be viewed as aliens, because we will shine a light that will expose the deeds of darkness. And those in darkness will lash out to douse the light of truth.
“Of course we will do all we can to rescue those held captive by chains, and we ask you to step in and do what we cannot. We can change circumstances, but we cannot change people’s hearts. We can shatter physical bonds, but we cannot make a dent in shackles of the spirit. We can give our lives in sacrifice, but we cannot give saving grace to those who plead for salvation. We three, therefore, confess our need for your assistance, because without you we are nothing, but with your help, we believe we can do anything.”
She breathed a heavy sigh. “Dearest Father, I often sing part of Psalm one thirty-nine, but I rarely include the final two verses. As I do so now, I pray that each one of us will ponder the words until they are true in our hearts, so vibrantly real that we would reach out to you with pleading hands and beg you to heed our plaintive call.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me, and know my thoughts, and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
As tears flowed, Mom compressed Matt’s hand. He returned the grasp. Darcy whispered, “Amen, Jesus. Take away my wicked heart. Lead me to everlasting life.”
Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Darcy had played the pity game so many times, and now she was trying to spear Mom with a sympathy harpoon. Obviously Mom’s prayer was good and righteous, but a change of heart in Darcy would take more than a miracle.
“Well,” Matt said as he released his mother’s hand and reached for the radio. “Let’s see if we can find something better than Tamiel’s voice to listen to.”
“A gospel station?” Darcy asked.
“Yeah . . . sure.” Matt pulled back his hand. “If you can find one.”
While Darcy fiddled with the radio buttons, Matt looked again at the mirror. His mother arched her brow and tilted her head. She seemed to be trying to transmit a silent question.
Matt gave her a mechanical smile. What else could he do? If he had grown up with her instead of meeting her only a short time ago, maybe he could have figured out her nonverbal cues. For now he would have to wait for some alone time with her. Maybe then he could warn her about Darcy’s manipulative ways. Her eagerness to spout an Amen and her quickness to search for a gospel station would probably fool most people who hoped for a sinner’s conversion. Mom needed to recognize Darcy’s wiles. She had proven so many times that she couldn’t be trusted—not then, not now. Too many lives were at stake.
Lightning crashed a hundred feet to the right and split a lone tree in a pasture. Thunder boomed and shook the car’s frame. Rain poured. Pea-sized hail pelted the windshield. Gusts lashed the side door, making the tires slide.
Matt refastened his grip on the wheel and slowed to thirty-five. A billboard uprooted and flew onto the highway. The sign slammed against the road in front of the Mustang and flipped over the roof and onto the pavement to the rear.
For a moment, the noise settled. Music emanated from the speakers. A woman crooned with a gentle country twang, something about being in Heaven and singing to God—pretty and sweet, but not very practical, especially for people battling demonic forces on Earth.
Matt relaxed his muscles. Being so uptight wasn’t helping. It couldn’t hurt to listen while tuning out the words . . . and Darcy’s presence . . . and try to unwind in spite of the chaos outside.
Darcy hummed along, her stare fixed on the raging storm, while Mom set an elbow on the back of the driver’s seat as she gazed outside without a hint of fear. Her wings shifted in her backpack as if begging to stretch out and fly a recon mission.
Trying to balance between a safe speed and hurrying to get out of the storm, Matt accelerated to forty and crossed the Kansas border. A series of green signs reported the distance to the next town—eight miles . . . five . . . three. With lightning flashing, thunder booming, and rain blowing across the prairie in wind-driven sheets, every mile felt like a victory. At least no more cars came by. The storm must have chased everyone else off the road.
A blue light flashed in the distance. Matt slowed the car to a crawl, barely able to see through the driving rain. As he neared the light, a police cruiser came into view, blocking the road several yards in front of a downed power pole. Sparks flew near a transformer, and severed lines lay across the lanes. Beyond them, windswept rain drenched an electronics store, a McDonald’s restaurant, a bank, and an ice-cream shop, all darkened.
Matt stopped the car within a stone’s throw of the police cruiser and shifted to park. Now visible through the curtain of rain, several people ran back and forth between the electronics store and cars waiting at the curb. All carried boxes of various sizes as they ducked low and stashed their loads into the cars.
Matt tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “They’re looting the stores.”
“Yep.” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Someone paid off the cops, I’ll bet.”
“Or they don’t want to be bothered.” Matt peered past the beating windshield wipers at two officers in the cruiser’s front seat as they sipped coffee and munched on pastries. “They might get rain on their doughnuts.”
“Corruption is probably almost universal now.” Mom leaned forward between Matt and Darcy. “People are taking what they want without remorse. Every guard on their moral foundations has fallen to the wayside.”
“Now that you’re here,” Matt said, “maybe your song will affect them.”
Mom shook her head. “Corruption deadens the ears and darkens the mind. It would take more than a song to do them any good now. I need to reach those who haven’t already given in.”
“Well, we can’t just sit here and watch them.” Matt opened the door. The rain had lessened to a gusty shower, still enough to get wet. “I’ll be right back.”
Keeping his head low, he hurried to the cruiser and signaled for the driver to roll down his window. When the glass lowered a few inches, Matt called, “Got a phone I can use?”
The driver shook his head. “Tower’s down. Unless you’ve got a satellite phone, you’re out of luck.”
Matt glanced at the cruiser’s rear seat. Several unopened boxes lay stacked there—laptop computers, widescreen monitors, and portable music devices. No wonder they weren’t arresting the looters. “Is there any way I can get past the downed lines?”
“Sure.” The officer pointed at an abandoned storefront. “Drive behind that building, and you can access the electronic store’s parking lot. Go out the exit on the far side, and you can get back to this road past the lines.”
“Thanks.” Matt ran to the Mustang, hopped in, and shifted to reverse. “The cops got their own loot.”
“Then we can’t count on any help.” Mom let out a sigh. “We’re on our own.”
Matt backed the car and turned onto the access road. After making his way to the parking lot, he dodged the scrambling looters.
A few shouted curses. One pair dropped their boxes and threw fists at each other, though only briefly before scrambling to gather their ill-gotten gains from the wet sidewalk.
The illustration seemed all too appropriate. The Mustang felt like an ark in the midst of a swelling sea of destruction, surrounded by corrupted souls getting soaked by rain, except these people had no idea that they were drowning.
When they pulled back onto the street, Matt eased the car around a fallen tree. A bird’s nest lay on the pavement along with a dead squirrel. Houses lined both sides of the road, some with missing roof shingles, others with flooded yards. Although the storm had wreaked havoc, now only a few wind-driven droplets pattered on the collection of fallen branches and puddle-strewn lawns. The worst appeared to be over.
“I’m not sure we’ll find anything open to the public,” he said. “If you need a restroom, we might have to knock on one of these doors.”
“Or find a private tree.” Darcy gazed out the window on her side. “People are scared. They might not be answering their doors.”
“Good point. They might answer with the barrel of a gun.”
Mom tapped his arm. “We can’t get word out to anyone who can help us, but maybe someone else can.”
“Like who?”
“Like anyone who has an Internet connection.” She began pulling down a backpack strap. “Lower the top, and I’ll fly around a bit. Let’s see if we can get some cyber chatter going.”
Chapter 3
FOLLOWING BILLY BANNISTER
Lauren sat in one of Merlin’s aisle seats as the aging Cessna flew in the midst of darkening skies. With an IV tube still attached at the crook of her arm and an IV pole at the tube’s other end, moving around to view the storm clouds wasn’t easy.
Not that she wanted to move much. A pounding head, burning nasal passages, and aching bones squelched any desire to lift more than a pinky, though cool air sometimes prompted a longing to put on her denim jacket. It lay draped over the back of the window seat, so close, yet so far.