Rick entered without knocking. “Boss, I have a couple people I want you to meet. They’re the husband and wife engineer and mathematician couple I told you about.”
Josiah rose from the table. “Ah, the Faison’s.”
Landon and Lara Faison were a young, beautiful couple in their early twenties. The wife was a gorgeous blonde with tan complexion and dark brown eyes. The man, who held a sleeping blond-haired boy, looked like he had stepped from an old black-and-white cowboy film. He was tall, dark, muscular, and handsome. In the past Josiah would have been threatened by someone who was younger, and better looking, than him. He would have tried to find out how he could impress the woman and steer her away from her marital promise. He was horrified at the type of human he used to be. Now, all he wanted was to nurture and protect the young family of three. To make sure they had a future.
The woman spoke first. “Mr. Saunders, I’ve been working with Rick on the formulas you gave him and I think I have a way to implement the cloaking theory you proposed.”
“Go ahead.”
Rick spoke up. “I hope you don’t mind, but I showed her the formulas.”
“No problem,” Josiah said, pointing to a whiteboard filled with mathematical models. “As you can see, it’s gone from an idea to an obsession. I’m realizing cloaking is the only way to ever be fully free from the world’s grip.”
Lara walked up to the whiteboard and reviewed the math line by line, comparing it to a data pad she held in her hand.
“What do you think?”
“Your programs will keep us invisible to parts of the electromagnetic spectrum, but we’d still be visible to the naked eye.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m basically proposing active camouflage, not cloaking. It’s not enough. We need to close that gap.”
She handed Josiah the data pad. “Here’s what I think is missing. It will take a few months, but I think we can get this live by end of year.”
Josiah scrolled through the data pad. He stopped at a formula and grinned. “How’d you come up with this?”
“I have a strong background in mathematics and programming.”
“So do I,” Josiah said, looking for more.
“I prayed,” she said.
“So did I,” Josiah countered.
“I fasted.”
Josiah belly-laughed and shook his head. He handed the data pad to Rick. “Take a look at this.”
The woman’s husband spoke for the first time. “Mr. Saunders—”
“Please call me Josiah.”
“Josiah, I heard there’s another group of people in Mexico waiting for us to pick them up by sub.
“I thought we got everyone?”
“They must have missed the last pickup.”
“How do we get them?”
“I’m a pilot,” Landon interrupted.
“What can you fly?”
“What do you got?”
“I have an armored helicopter that won’t hold more than five people.”
“I’d have to make twenty trips.”
Josiah sized the man up. “I have a prototype transport vehicle. The controls are half copter, half fighter jet.
“No problem.”
“You’re a cocky one.”
The rugged man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Saunders. I didn’t mean to come across that way. I’m an average mechanic and average engineer, but my God-given talent is flight. That’s the one place I excel.”
“Not the only place,” his wife said, pointing to the sleeping child in his arms.
Landon blushed.
Josiah chuckled at the marital joke. “Come with me, young man.”
A month later, Josiah entered the control room for the dead man’s shift. The place had a crew of twelve staff.
The young engineer said, “Boss, we have two subs coming in. Shields are down to seventy percent. Should we surface?”
Josiah liked that the staff took on Rick’s laid-back approach with him by calling him boss instead of Mr. Saunders. “Let me see.”
The man handed him a data pad. “There’s a category four tropical cyclone above us?” Josiah asked.
“If we surface we should move out of the storm’s path.”
“Then there will be the navy waiting for us.”
“Rick says you always have a trick up your sleeve.”
Josiah shook his head. “I got nothing left. Cloaking’s not online and—”
An alarm interrupted them, and everyone’s data pads and terminals lit up red.
“What’s happening?” someone shouted from across the room.
“The subs are pulling back,” a voice called out. “Naval ships are moving back toward continental US.”
“It’s a miracle,” one person shouted.
“I’m hesitant to even hope,” Josiah added. “Can anyone tap into any alternative or even mainstream news feeds?”
A half a minute later a female anchor from Spotlight News appeared on the main vid screen. Josiah had never seen her before, and the stage and studio were different. The studio was poorly lit. It took Josiah a moment to realize it was from emergency lighting.
The news anchor spoke fast. “We don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay on the air. The electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear blasts took out the majority of the eastern seaboard utilities. We have reports coming in from ham radio operators around the country. We have sixteen nuclear detonations confirmed. Boston and New Jersey were both hit. D.C. is gone. Completely wiped off the map. There’s a rumor that both the president and vice president were at ground zero. Chicago, Philly, San Antonio, L.A., and San Jose. There were a handful of hits in the Midwest as well.” A moment later the lights flashed and the screen went dark.
The cheering had stopped in the control center. In its place rose cries and weeping. Josiah knew everyone there had just lost loved ones or friends. People they hoped one day to go home to or bring to the Atoll.
Minutes passed before someone said, “Shields back to ninety percent. Shall we continue to surface?”
Josiah waved him off. “Stop at a depth of ninety feet and move out of the storm’s path. Head north again.” He picked up the microphone like he had done many times before. Josiah clicked it on, then back off. He was at a loss for words. A prayer, a psalm. Nothing came to him to comfort the citizens with what just happened. They were safe, but their loved ones back home were dead or dying. He waved D’Souza over and handed him the microphone. “At oh eight hundred, tell the citizens what happened. I can’t do it.”
Emotion overcame him like an ancient dam that had burst. He rushed out of the control room, down the stairwell, and into his quarters. He wept for all the dead and dying. All the people he wasn’t able to get to in time.
In the months following what came to be known as the Great Wars, the Atoll construction continued as it traveled the globe, picking up refugees from various continents. During this time, the Atoll’s shields were boosted, allowing it to remain underwater almost indefinitely, and cloaking was brought online. Medicine was produced and aquaponics farming helped supplement the vast stores of preserved food for the hundred and fifty thousand refugees who now called the Atoll home. Hundreds more refugees were added each week.
A constitution was drawn up and senators elected to represent the citizens. The position of chancellor was created. The citizens lobbied for Josiah to run, but he turned it down. Instead he endorsed Clarke Simmons, who won with ninety-five percent of the vote.
The Atoll continued on its global journey, and its citizens grew accustomed to a stable life that had a semblance of routine. Time became available for recreation and even entertainment. While the citizens paused for a time of rest, something prodded Josiah to continue to work with a sense of urgency. He found, and trained up, technicians to take over every one of his responsibilities. Knowing his expertise was downloaded to a younger generation allowed him to rest easier. He was slowing down and needed more sleep than in the past.
&nb
sp; Josiah collapsed during a late-night inspection of a new tower. What everyone thought was exhaustion he knew was something else. The doctors verified what he suspected was cancer. The disease had already metastasized throughout his body. Somehow, he always knew it would come back for him. He just never thought that it would return this quick or that he would be at peace with it.
Within two weeks, Josiah was bedridden. His waking hours were spent reading scripture, praying, and thinking. He now contemplated death and Heaven without fear but rather with anticipation. He pictured Heaven as a place of eternal rest and peace. Maybe a lush forest interspersed with streams that resembled his childhood home of Wolfeboro, New Hampshire? No, that place was gone. Razed in a nuclear ash heap. Heaven would be greater than any New England mountain range.
Visitors came and went, but each night his adopted family of Clarke, Faith, Agape, and Joy came by to visit and pray over him. They would bring Josiah up to speed on projects and ask him for input on problems he knew they could handle. He played the game and gave them his opinions, and would put on a fake smile when one of them would say how important he still was to the Atoll. The kids, now both married, told him about the new school they helped start.
Before they would leave for the night, all four would lay hands on their adopted father and pray for healing. Josiah was confident God could heal any sickness, but he was just as confident their prayers would not be answered. His work was complete and his body spent. Words soon became too hard to form, but he had already said thank you and I love you countless times.
On December 21, something prompted Clarke to remain after everyone else had left. Next to Josiah’s bed were pictures of Joy and Agape as children. The pictures were from a time before they met Josiah.
Clarke held on to Josiah’s hand. Choking up he said, “I know you can still hear me old friend. I don’t want you to go, but I know you need to. I praise God for the miracles He’s performed in your life and I’m so thankful I was there to witness them. I love you.”
For the first time in days, Josiah opened his eyes. Slowly his lips curled up and he smiled at his friend. His eyes spoke volumes of an unshakable brotherly love. A long moment passed, then Josiah Saunders shut his eyes for the final time to go and be with the Lord.
Clarke, now openly weeping whispered, “Until we meet again.”
Epilogue
Five-year-old Kyle Faison sat on his father’s lap in the front row of the main athletic field. Behind them thousands of people stretched back from the field and up into the stadium seating. In one hand Kyle held his favorite toy, a model rocket ship just like the one his dad flew on missions. On a stage in front of them sat his teacher Miss Joy. He didn’t like to see her so sad. His mother and father had also cried a lot in the past few days about the Mr. Saunders, a man they said worked directly for God. Kyle had met Mr. Saunders many times. He would sometimes sit on his lap and tug on the old man’s beard. Dad and Mom would scold him, but underneath Mr. Saunders’s whiskers there was always a smile and laugh.
Many people spoke that day about God and what He had done through Mr. Saunders for the people of the Atoll, the miracles and the technological breakthroughs.
Miss Joy’s brother, Agape, spoke first. “I’d like to read from Acts 7:22, And Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and was mighty in words and in deeds. Like Moses, Josiah Saunders was also mighty in words and deeds, living in the equivalent of Pharaoh’s palace. And like Moses, he was humbled and saved by Grace and chosen to lead us through the sea to safety.”
Miss Joy spoke next. “Psalm 77:19 says that, Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known. Because of Josiah Saunders, our lives are forever entwined with the sea. But in Revelation, God promises us a time when this will end. It reads, And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.“
The new Chancellor was the last to speak. “I will miss my old friend. His story is nothing short of miraculous. I only hope we can all live up to the example he set.” The tall man wiped a tear away with the back of his hand. “Ironically, of the thousands living here on the Atoll, Josiah is the first citizen to pass away. He will be interred in a crystal coffin under the Atoll. Like Joseph’s bones being taken out of Egypt, I hope to someday bury Josiah’s remains in real soil.” He paused. “In a new nation.”
After bedtime prayers, Kyle maneuvered his toy ship through the air as his mother tried to put on his pajamas.
“Hold still so I can put your shirt on.”
Kyle stopped what he was doing, a random thought occurring to him. “Mom, if Mr. Saunders is with Jesus, then why were so many people crying today?”
Lara took the toy ship from her son’s hand and placed it on the nightstand. “Our sadness is for us more than him. Mr. Saunders was a great man and we all miss him.” Kyle jumped into bed and his mother pulled a blanket over his chest. She continued, “God used him to build this underwater city we live in. It protects us from the bad things in the world that millions of other people have to live with.”
“Like what?”
“Above the ocean there’s war everywhere, and because of that children go to sleep every night without medicine, food, and a clean, warm bed like you have.”
“Why can’t we help them?”
“We need to.” She kissed him on the cheek. Before leaving his bedroom, she added, “Maybe someday you’ll grow up to be like Mr. Saunders and make a difference in people’s lives.”
Kyle looked over at his toy ship resting on the nightstand. He turned back to his mother. “I will, Mom.”
About the Author
John Theo, Jr. has published numerous articles in New England based newspapers and magazines, and has taught screenwriting at the college level. Mission Trip, Genesis and Exodus is his fifth fiction novel. John holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Pine Manor College in Chestnut Hill, MA. For more information on John check out www.johntheo.com.
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