Acts of God

by James Beauseigneur

The ground continued to shake until it seemed the truck would be torn apart. Even a thousand miles away, the quake was beyond the instrumentation's capability to measure, but estimates put it at as high as 10.5 on the logarithmic Richter scale, or more than 100 times stronger than the 8.1 quake which devastated Mexico City in 1985. Clearly the battle for the planet earth was about to reach its peak.

  Inside Babylon, at the epicenter of the massive quake, buildings crumbled into enormous burning heaps, ignited by lightning and fueled by natural gas pipelines. The city's magnificent perimeter walls became an insurmountable mountain of rubble sealing all avenues of escape. Along the dry bed of the Euphrates, the earth split open like an over-ripe fruit, leaving a gaping chasm a hundred yards wide and many times that deep. A second crack, running eastward from the first, passed directly through the U.N. complex and swallowed whole the ruins of the United Nations Secretariat and General Assembly buildings.

  The chasms divided the city into three huge blazing sections consumed by raging fire.

  The quake's circle of destruction stretched for more than 2000 miles — from St. Petersburg to Somalia, from Nepal to Barcelona — collapsing buildings and devastating whole cities and crushing most of their populations. But the Babylonian quake was only the forerunner of death as it triggered major shifts of the African and Eurasian tectonic plates, causing a chain reaction which shook the Indian-Australian and Pacific plates as well. Thousands of islands in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans along the borders of the plates were shaken like a child's rattle, turning most signs of civilization to wreckage and creating massive tsunami to wash away what was left. The loss of life was in the hundreds of thousands, and millions more were injured.

  Hundreds of miles from Babylon, along the route to Petra, the quake shook Christopher's armies, knocking many off their feet, but few were hurt. Primarily this was due to the fact that they were out in the open where there were no structures to fall on them (the cause of most quake injuries), but most credited their good fortune to their solidarity against Yahweh. Their bravado would be short-lived, however, for they had not yet seen the smoke of Babylon rising in the east or heard news reports of the damage that had occurred elsewhere.

  Eleven miles southeast of Babylon, with headlights shining through the dust and dark before it, the overturned truck's passenger door was slowly pushed open, revealing the only sign of life for miles. It was just after noon but the clouds that still rained down lightning upon the city made it appear as night. Ed Blocher groaned in pain as he attempted to climb up through the door and then from the cab to the ground. Close behind, their teenage passenger jumped the last few feet, followed next by Joel Felsberg who, not nearly as agile, landed hard and immediately wished he had not.

  "Here," Felsberg said, wincing in pain and handing Blocher the keys to the back door of the truck. "Go see how bad it is back there."

  Ed Blocher took the keys and went to the back door.

  "Is everyone all right in there?" he asked. The cries from inside told him they were not.

  "I don't think so," answered an adult female voice. "We've all been tossed about pretty badly. I think we've got some broken bones back here. What happened? Did we hit something?"

  "An earthquake," Blocher answered.

  The woman leaned forward to see beyond the open door. "Is that the city?" she gasped, only now coming into Blocher's view as the light of the raging fire reflected off her face.

  It was a rhetorical question asked in stunned amazement, but Blocher answered anyway. "Yeah," he said, as he helped a not-so-badly-injured man to his feet.

  "Now what?" asked the woman.

  From outside the back of the truck Joel Felsberg's voice answered her question, "Now we get everyone out of the truck, and if we can, we try to get it back upright. If we can't. . ." Felsberg stopped. He really didn't have an alternative plan.

  "If we can't, what?" asked Blocher as he climbed out of the back of the truck.

  Felsberg looked up at the black cloud covering. "Don't you think it's a little strange," he asked, "that despite the clouds and the lightning there's been no rain?"

  The fact had occurred to him earlier, but with everything else that was happening, Blocher had not given it much thought. Now as he looked around, the ominous tone in Felsberg's question brought the matter clearly into focus. "What's happening?" he asked.

  "In order for there to be lightning," Felsberg answered, "something has to be creating a static charge in those clouds. Since it's not raining, the movement that's causing the static must be in and above the clouds."

  Blocher shook his head and gave Felsberg a confused look to say he still didn't understand what Felsberg was getting at.

  "We've got to try to get these people to shelter," Felsberg said, still not explaining the reason for his concern.

  "Most of them can't walk," said the woman from inside the truck. "And unless you can turn the truck right side up with just the few of us that aren't badly hurt, you're going to have to come up with another plan."

  Felsberg looked at the sky again, shaking his head.

  "What is going on, Joel?!" Blocher demanded.

  "I don't claim to be an expert at interpreting either prophecy or meteorology," Felsberg answered, "and the Bible doesn't say exactly when it's supposed to happen, but unless I miss my guess, we're about to be . . ." At that moment there was a muffled thud and the ground shook again. It was different than before: not even a fraction so strong as the quake but it felt somehow localized, closer. An instant later it was followed by a second thud, and then a third. "Quick! Back in the truck!" Felsberg said.

  There was another thud closer than the previous ones and Ed Blocher turned to look for the origin of the sound. At first he saw what appeared to be a boulder, light-colored and perhaps eighteen inches or two feet in diameter, rolling slowly toward the truck. Before his eyes could fully focus on the curious sight he realized there were thousands of such boulders. They were falling from the sky.

  1:02 p.m. — 2 miles outside of Petra

  Sand and dust flew in all directions as the helicopter set down near the headquarters tents of the U.N. encampment outside of Petra. Not waiting for the blades to stop, the helicopter's passenger, General Rudolph Kerpelmann, in charge of the U.N. peacekeeping forces in Israel, tapped on the window of the door with his baton to indicate to the crewman that he wanted it opened immediately.

  Climbing from the chopper as the blades still rotated, Kerpelmann scanned the tents, and went directly to the one with the flag and seal of the Secretary-General of the United Nations. The guards posted outside showed him in. Christopher was waiting for him.

  "Thank you for coming, General Kerpelmann," Christopher said as the general tucked his baton beneath his left arm and saluted him. "Please sit down." Kerpelmann sat down and Christopher got right to the reason he had called him for this meeting.

  "General, I've read your report on the large number of Jews in Jerusalem who oppose our efforts here. Is it true," Christopher asked with a grimace, "that they are actually cutting off their own right hands to remove the mark?"

  "I'm afraid so, sir," Kerpelmann answered.

  Christopher shook his head and sighed as if to say 'poor fools,' before getting back to the immediate purpose of the meeting. "I've also read your recommendation for dealing with the problem." Christopher leaned back in his chair. "I am inclined to agree with your assessment."

  General Kerpelmann showed no change in his emotion, but inside he was celebrating. He had not expected Christopher's

  support.

  "Have there been any changes since you submitted your report that would make you reconsider your recommendation?" Christopher asked.

  "No, sir. In fact, in light of the upcoming action here, I believe my recommendation to be all the more sound." Christopher's silence urged General Kerpelmann to continue. "Sir, I don't pretend to understand exactly how all these psychic powers work but it seems to me that if you've got an action taking place
here, you don't want a millstone around your neck from a lot of interference coming from Jerusalem."

  Christopher paused and seemed to be considering Kerpelmann's advice and then nodded agreement. "You've got your work cut out for you, General," he said. "I want this completed by noon Monday, before the action at Petra begins."

  "My people can be ready in two hours," Kerpelmann responded.

  "Good!" Christopher said, and then after a pause added, "We've got six divisions under the leadership of General Novak at the rear of the procession coming from the Jezreel Valley. They should be reaching Jerusalem right about now. To speed things up, I'll direct Novak to transfer command to you until you complete your mission."

  General Kerpelmann stood to attention, saluted briskly, and left the tent. "Finally," he said under his breath, and slapped his baton in the palm of his left hand. If only he had been given permission to do this three and a half years ago when they had first occupied Israel, he thought, before the rest of them had had an opportunity to go to Petra, the world would never have suffered the plagues. He knew the Jews. Growing up in Austria he had learned to hate them. As a child he had studied the Second World War and would lie awake in bed at night agonizing over missteps and miscalculations that had led to Hitler's defeat. It seemed ironic vindication of Hitler's convictions that eighty years after the defeat of the Third Reich the organization that had been formed by those who had defeated Germany had come finally to the point of realizing the necessity of completing the work that the Reich had begun.

  1:20 p.m. — 11 miles southeast of Babylon

  As hailstones two feet in diameter, weighing a hundred pounds or more fell all around them, those in the truck huddled together and prayed for deliverance. Suddenly there was a loud crash and the sound of shattered safety-glass. The truck's cab had been hit. A moment later a hailstone hit the truck's upturned rear wheel, tearing it from the hub, separating the differential from the drive train, forcing the axle through the wheel on the ground, and driving it fourteen inches into the dirt. Two more stones hit the cab. Additional stones rolled against the back door after striking the ground nearby.

  The storm continued for another twenty minutes as various parts of the truck were pummeled, but not one stone hit the compartment directly and miraculously no one was hurt.

  When the storm was over, Ed Blocher and Joel Felsberg and every other able-bodied person in the truck had to work together to force open the back door. Even then, they could open it only about a foot and a half. Accumulated hailstones around the truck left only a small hole, large enough for one person to climb out at a time. Ed Blocher was the first. As he emerged to look around, he saw the full impact of the hail. As far as he could see, the earth was covered six to eight feet deep with the massive hailstones and the city of Babylon had become a crushed, smoldering wasteland.

  2:03 p.m. — 80 miles northeast of Petra

  High overhead a large flock of crows winged their way eastward above the advancing columns. Those below on their way to Petra took no notice of the birds' flight: their eyes were drawn 400 miles to the east where a huge dark cloud rose from beyond the horizon. Nor did they hear the birds, for the air was full of cursing. The first confirmed reports of the destruction of Babylon and the damage to other cities from the earthquake were being broadcast by radio and television.

  In the concern of the moment, no one remembered the words of the second angel, who had appeared at the dedication of the U.N. complex two years earlier.

  3:08 p.m. — Jerusalem

  The steel-toed combat boot found its mark squarely in the middle of the wooden front door, breaking the lock and throwing the door open. Cautiously but quickly, two uniformed men rushed in and began to search the apartment. Carefully proceeding from room to room they checked under and behind furniture, in closets, and behind full length curtains. Coming at last to the master bedroom, one slid open the closet door as the other pointed his rifle. Inside a woman stood against the back wall, her eyes closed as she tried in vain to hide behind the clothes which hung before her.

  "Get her," said the man with the rifle. The other man reached in and took hold of the woman's hair and pulled her out as she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

  "Not bad," said the other as he lowered the rifle. "But let's get a better look." With that, he tore the clothes from her body until she stood before them naked, attempting to cover herself — a task made all the more difficult by the fact she had no right hand.

  "Hold this," he said, as he handed his rifle to his companion.

  "Hold it yourself," the other answered as he dropped both their weapons on the carpeted floor.

  The two men grabbed the woman to force her down on the bed but she resisted, scratching the first across the face.

  The man jerked back and felt his face where she had scratched him. The blood on his hand revealed the extent of the wound. "You dirty bitch!" he said, and grabbed her left hand and twisted it behind her back. Taking hold of the bandaged stub of her right wrist in his other hand, he twisted both of her arms and gave a hard sharp jerk downwards, dislocating her left shoulder and making that arm useless. Her missing right hand had fouled his grip on that arm and so as the woman screamed in agony, the man shifted his hold to the other arm. With the stub in one hand and her elbow in the other, he countered the one against the other and with a sharp snap, broke her right arm at the joint. Quivering with the unbearable pain, she prayed she would lose consciousness as she was thrown to the bed helpless and the two men dropped their pants.

  Suddenly there was a flash of motion from behind as the woman's husband who had been hiding elsewhere in the house, crazed with anger, ran into the room toward the two men. In his left (and only) hand was a large claw hammer, the only weapon he could find. With a single stroke, he drove the claw of the hammer deep into the skull of the first soldier, then ripping it from the man's head, he attempted to do the same to the second but instead hit the man's arm raised in defense. The force of the blow knocked the soldier back, and being unable to catch himself because his pants were down around his knees, he fell to the ground and became easy prey for the relentless blows of the hammer.

  Down on his knees, the adrenalin of his rage compelling him to continue to beat the soldier though he was clearly already dead, the woman's husband nearly missed the sound of others coming into the apartment. At the last moment, he dropped the hammer and reached for one of the rifles on the floor. Having been right-handed, aiming the rifle was nearly impossible, but at this range it would be difficult to miss. Not suspecting what had happened, two more U.N. soldiers appeared at the door. As four shots rang out the two men collapsed as their blood spilled out upon the floor.

  Barely able to stand, the man tried to help his wife. He did not notice a moment later as two more soldiers entered the apartment. They came through the door shooting. When it was over, the woman's husband lay with the four soldiers, dead on the floor. Unseen in the other side of the closet from where she had hidden, a stray bullet had pierced the closed door and the heart of their four-year-old daughter. The woman had been wounded in the side, but she did not feel it for the pain in her shoulder and arm .. . and for the pain in her heart.

  As blood ran from her side, the two soldiers completed what the first two had started, raping her and when they were done, putting a bullet through her head.

  From the battle headquarters atop the Mount of Olives outside Jerusalem, General Kerpelmann peered through his binoculars down at the city of Jerusalem. What he saw did not please him and the reports he was receiving pleased him even less. The Jews were fighting as people possessed. Even the frail and elderly had proven difficult to deal with — and this though most had only one hand. Now as he cast his view toward the Temple, he saw three men on the pinnacle at the base of Christopher's statue, planting explosives.

  "I want those men killed," he shouted, pointing in their direction with his ever-present baton. But it was too late. Before marksmen could be dispatched, the sound of
the explosion echoed in the hills around them. As Kerpelmann watched in horror, knowing how upset this would make the Secretary-General, the statue fell to the street below and crumpled into a heap.

  Turning to his second in command, General Kerpelmann screamed irately and cursed God. His cursing had nothing to do with any belief that in doing so he would weaken Yahweh's control of the situation. Rather he cursed, as he always had, in anger. "Colonel," he shouted, "direct the artillery to target the Temple. Notify our people and give them three minutes to get out of there, and then blow it and everyone in it straight to hell!"

  2:25 p.m. — Outside of Petra

  "What the hell is going on here?!" American Ambassador and Security Council member Jackson Clark demanded. Secretary-General Christopher Goodman sat calmly and confidently despite the verbal challenge. "You didn't say anything about this!! Or didn't you think the destruction of Babylon and cities throughout Asia, Africa, and Europe, and nearly every island on the planet was important enough to mention?!"

  "I understand your concerns," Christopher responded calmly. "And in truth I am surprised that Yahweh would use this tactic. It makes no sense, except perhaps as a distraction."

  "A distraction!?" Clark shouted incredulously. "You consider a storm that rains down fire and boulder-sized hail, and an earthquake that decimates your capital city and destroys cities around the globe a distraction?!!!"

  "All that Yahweh can possibly hope to accomplish is to use this to distract us from our real mission here."

  "Well, it's working pretty damned well!!"

  Christopher looked unfalteringly into the eyes of Jackson Clark and answered firmly, "When this battle is over tomorrow, I will restore Babylon: everything and everyone in it. And within three days time I will do the same for every other city that has been destroyed. By the end of three days, no evidence will remain that there ever was an earthquake, or fires, or hail."