He glanced over at Bono, who had closed his eyes and tilted his head, as if he were listening to something in the night. Sam watched him a moment, then asked, “Bono, you served a mission, didn’t you, buddy?”
Bono pressed his lips together and nodded, but his eyes remained closed.
“And you were . . . what do you call that, you know that president thing?”
“Elders quorum president.”
“Yeah, that’s it. You were one of those, right?”
“Yeah. In fact, I still am, or I used to be—I’m not sure about it now. I was the quorum president in our branch back at Camp Freedom, but we left so quickly I never even got a chance to talk to Major Bailey . . . ”
“Okay, you know, whatever, you’ve got some experience. You could teach me, right?”
Bono tilted his head in the other direction, listening, keeping his eyes closed. “What do you want me to teach you?” he asked.
“I want to understand this church. I want to understand it all. I want to know what you know, what my mom knows, what my dad knew when he was alive. I’ve never really given it a chance, but I think I need to now.”
Bono nodded slowly. “All right, I can do that. It would be a good thing.”
Sam stared at him through the light of the flickering fire, then, satisfied, lowered his head. The two men were silent while the fire simmered and popped. Sam relaxed, letting his chin drop until it hit his chest. He could sleep like that for hours.
He almost drifted off. But there was one more thing.
“Bono?” he asked.
“Yeah, buddy,” the lieutenant answered.
“You know that King Abdullah ordered the nuclear attack on D.C.”
Bono was silent a moment. “That’s what we’re hearing,” he said.
“Then you know, once they confirm that, they’re going to take him out. No way the U.S. isn’t going to go after him. And if they do, they will use us. The Cherokees will go.”
“Probably right.”
Under his poncho, Sam folded his arms, holding them near his chest. “I guess I need to repent, then.”
“Why’s that, Sergeant Brighton?”
Sam shifted on his log. “He killed my dad, so many of our leaders, so many of our people, all of them innocent. How many women and children? The whole thing makes me sick—I mean, physically ill!
“Now I want to be the one who gets him. I want revenge. I want justice. I don’t feel any mercy toward him. I know that’s not right, and I’ve tried, but I can’t bring myself to feel much of anything else.”
Bono opened his eyes and looked at Sam, then shifted to stare into the dark. The fire popped and sizzled as the drizzle came down. The night was calm and heavy and the smoke seemed to linger, not lifting into the air.
But Bono didn’t answer. Truth was, he felt the same way.
Two blocks south of the Washington D.C. LDS Temple
Kensington, Maryland
Sara stood at the crest of the hill. Around her, the leaves and bushes, generally full and green at this time of year, had turned brown and brittle. The sky was dark, with gray ash hanging in the air and a low bank of rain clouds forming on the western horizon.
For more than a week, she and her two sons had been wandering around the outskirts of the city, seeking information on her husband, trying to confirm his death, trying to get as close to the bomb site as they safely could. But after it all, they had ended up here, near the temple grounds, the primary reason being that there was a small hill just a few blocks to the east from which they could look south onto downtown D.C.
Sara stood on the hill. This was as close as she could get. Behind her, the temple spires jutted up from the trees, the glistening marble a glaring contrast to the brown leaves and dirty air. The temple had no exterior windows, so little damage had been done; some of the houses to the south had had their windows blown out.
Turning, Sara Brighton looked toward the district again. Farther south, the damage became more stark and terrible. If she squinted, she could make out bent metal girders and burned-out cement walls in the distance. The damage was eerie and irregular, for the aircraft that had been carrying the bomb had been lower than the Saudi scientist had hoped it would be, and so the blast from the heat wave had followed the contours of the ground, burning everything it touched directly but sparing those buildings that were protected behind any rising terrain. It was remarkable, almost unnatural, how some areas had been spared. Arlington National Cemetery—destroyed up to the crest of the hill, yet General’s Lee’s mansion and the graves on the western side of the hill had been spared. The White House and Mall—entirely destroyed, but some of the smaller buildings directly behind them had survived the attack. Most of the government offices housing the Congress had been destroyed, but the northern wing of the Capitol Hill building was still intact. The list went on and on, and a pattern began to emerge: areas west and south of the Potomac had been spared; east and north, turned to ash.
Sara squinted again, then lifted her hand to her shade her eyes. Luke and Ammon waited behind her, their heads bent, looking down. It was just too hard to look at, too painful, too bleak. Their mother stood without moving, then turned back to them. “I wish they would let us go down there . . . you know, just to see.”
Ammon nodded, but inside he was very relieved. He had seen enough—more than enough. He knew his father was dead, killed in the blast, and he didn’t feel a need to explore the place where he had died.
Luke shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to see any more.
It would be months, maybe much longer, before civilians would be allowed to go into any of the areas that had been affected by the blast. Out here in the suburbs, where the winds had kept the radiation at an acceptable level, refugee camps and tent cities had already sprung up, but downtown was deserted except for the special military units and emergency response teams, all of them protected in radiation suits. The teams were plodding through the wreckage, looking for survivors and chronicling the damage for the day when they might be able to rebuild, or at least go in and try to retrieve some of the documents, government records, and artifacts the government needed in order to exist.
But the truth was, there wasn’t much left of the federal government. It would take a long time and a lot of work to rebuild it completely.
Sara thought for a moment longer, then walked toward her sons. The great white temple rose behind them, a beautiful castle glistening against the gray sky. She nodded to it, and the two boys turned. “I’m so relieved it wasn’t damaged,” she said. “I love this place. I’ve always loved it. We were sealed as a family here.”
Ammon studied the temple and then turned to his mother. “It’s time now,” he said. “We’ve really got to decide.”
Sara shook her head. She knew that. She’d been avoiding the decision because she felt so unsure. “What do you think?” she asked Ammon.
“I don’t know, Mom. I really don’t . . . ”
Luke pushed a dirty hand through his hair. “We should go west, to Salt Lake. That’s what we should do.”
Sara cocked her head toward him. “You really think so?” she asked.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m certain. There’s nothing left here for us now.”
“But Salt Lake . . . we have no family there . . . ” Sara’s forehead creased in doubt.
“We are the only Church members in our family. We have lots of friends in Utah, friends who believe the same way we do. We need their strength now. It will be safe if we can get there. I feel certain that is where we should go.”
Sara listened, frowning.
“It will be nearly impossible to get there,” Ammon quickly said. He glanced over at his brother. “We don’t know if the roads will be open. Will we be able to buy gas? Food? Find a place to stay? There will be gangs and vigilantes. We’ve heard how dangerous it is now. I don’t know . . I don’t know . . . ” his voice trailed off. “But when I think of staying here,” he continued, “when I consid
er any other option, then I think Luke is probably right. It will be hard, even dangerous, but I think it’s the best choice we have.”
Sara nodded slowly, lifting her gaze to the temple again. “I miss my husband,” she whispered as her eyes filled with tears. Ammon held out his arms and moved toward her, but she took a step back, raising her hands to stop him, forcing herself to keep her emotions under control. “When I realized that your father had been taken, I only kept breathing because I knew God wanted me to live,” she said.
Then she paused and sighed deeply, her face turning peaceful and calm. She lifted her eyes to the dark sky and thought for a while. “I love it here,” she repeated quietly, as if she were talking to herself. “It is so peaceful, so still, even in the midst of the storm, so calming, so eternal. I mean, look around: We are in the midst of destruction, yet standing here, under these crystal-white spires, I can remember there is more. More in our lives. More in the eternities. More things we must do.
“It wasn’t fair that your father died, but this life isn’t fair. God never said that only the evil would die in these days. Even the good, sometimes especially the good, will be called on to sacrifice. It has always been that way. The pioneers lost some of their best on the trail leading away from Nauvoo—innocent women, sometimes children, all of them paid a price. Can we expect our days to be different? I don’t think that would be fair.”
A sudden wind blew through the trees, fresh and cold. It made her arms tingle, and she took a deep breath. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked her sons.
Ammon and Luke met her eyes, but they didn’t reply.
No, they didn’t see it. But she knew that someday they would.
“There is much more to come,” she continued. “Heartaches, I’m sure, but I think there will be many incredibly good things as well. There will be more opportunities to do the Lord’s work than we’ve ever had before, more ways we can serve him, more people who need us than ever before.”
She stopped a moment, looking hard at her sons. Her eyes bored into them, steely with her resolve. “You are the fulfillment of scripture,” she whispered to them. “You were sent to be a light unto the world, and to be the saviors of men.”
“But my father . . . ” Ammon said, his voice choking and tight.
“Your father is busy on the other side of the veil. He had to be taken from us; that was part of the plan. God wasn’t taken by surprise. We just didn’t know it was coming, and so we were left unprepared. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Luke walked toward her. “What do we do, then?” he asked.
“We have hope. We have faith. That is all that we have left. We play our part. We keep walking. We do what God asks us to do.”
Ammon’s lower jaw trembled as he struggled inside. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Of course you can, son.”
“I want to . . . I want to . . . but I don’t know how.”
“You wake up. You keep praying. You have patience and you wait.” There was no more heartache or sadness wringing Sara’s eyes. She looked strong, and it seemed as if a soft, unseen ember had been lit in her soul.
“You have been saved for these days,” Sara said to her sons. “I was sent to be your mother, to prepare you for what will come. You each have a mission to fulfill. Our days are not yet finished; we have much work to do. I know that. I can feel it. The Spirit tells me it is true.”
She paused, her face certain.
“We will go to Utah,” she concluded. “We will find a place to live there, and we will make a new home. And once we are settled, we will ask God what he wants us to do. Then we will work to further his kingdom until his Son comes back to earth.”
Fury and Light
Fury and Light
© 2007 The Shipley Group
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, P. O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City, Utah 84130. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book Company.
Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Stewart, Chris, 1960–
Fury and light / Chris Stewart.
p. cm. — (The great and terrible ; v. 4)
ISBN-13: 978-1-59038-629-3 (alk. paper)
eISBN 1-60641-621-9 (eletronic)
1. Terrorism—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3569.T4593F87 2007
813'.54—dc22 2007008319
Printed in the United States of America
Publishers Printing, Salt Lake City, Utah
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Author’s Note
The technologies depicted in this book and their potential effects upon society are real and accurately portrayed. While the possibility of an EMP attack and the widespread devastation it would cause are well-known among the military and intelligence community, they are much less known among other government offices and the general population. Why this is the case I have often wondered, but have no explanation.
There is a great deal of information available regarding the subject. I encourage interested readers to pursue their own research and would suggest the Senate reports referred to in the narrative as a good starting place.
The Story So Far
In the premortal world, Lucifer and his followers reject the plan of the Father and wage war on the faithful, trying to win souls to their side. Jehovah and Michael lead the cause of the valiant, and Ammon, Luke, Elizabeth, and Sam are among the warriors who help to save many who otherwise would have been lost. Lucifer, enraged, vows to remember these great ones and to continue the fight for their souls in the mortal world.
And so the battle continues in the next estate. Lucifer and his minions, including the master teacher Balaam, whose pride was his downfall in the premortal conflict, wreak havoc on the inhabitants of the earth, snaring leaders of nations and stirring up hatred and bloodshed. Chief among their conquests is Prince Abdullah al-Rahman, second son of the king of Saudi Arabia. When it becomes evident that his father and older brother favor allying themselves with the democratic government of the United States, Prince Abdullah makes a pact with a mysterious stranger in return for knowledge of how to bring them down.
Meanwhile, in the Agha Jari Deh Valley of Iran, Elizabeth is born Azadeh Ishbel Pahlavi, only child of Rassa Ali Pahlavi, grandson of the last Shah of Persia. Her mother, Sashajan, dies within twenty-four hours of her birth, but she lives a happy childhood, raised by a loving father. Everyone who knows her recognizes a special quality that she possesses, a sort of radiance or spiritual maturity that sets her apart. Lucifer’s followers find her, and the adversary sends one of his mortal servants to murder her, but she is protected by Teancum, a heavenly messenger sent by the Father to preserve her life so she can fulfill her mission on earth.
Crown Prince Saud, heir to the throne of Saudi Arabia, also finds the Pahlavi family. Recognizing how precarious his own situation has become, he forms a desperate plan to seek help from them if the need should arise. He also contacts his friend in the United States, Major General Neil S. Brighton, asking to meet him during his upcoming trip to Saudi Arabia.
General Brighton, newly appointed as military liaison to the National Security Advisor, feels the weight of his assignment and the price it exacts from his wife, Sara, and their twin sons, Ammon and Luke. The boys are doing all right, basically on course with mission preparations despite a lively lifestyle. Neil wishes he could say the same for Sam, the foster son he and Sara have adopted as their own. Sam’s abusive birth parents have made his road difficult, and even the love of the Brightons is not sufficient to give him a testimony of God’
s love for him. Instead of going on a mission, he chose to join the army, and now he serves in an elite Delta unit specializing in covert missions in the most dangerous regions of the world.
Neil Brighton travels to Saudi Arabia, and during his meeting with Prince Saud, a servant comes running to raise an alarm. A “Firefall” has been called—code for an assault on the royal family. Too late to help, Prince Saud learns that his wife and children have been assassinated, the first step in Prince Abdullah’s plan to take over the leadership of his country. Prince Saud flees with his second wife and his only remaining son, a boy of four, taking them by helicopter to Iran and consigning them secretly to the care of his distant cousin Rassa Ali Pahlavi, Azadeh’s father. On the way back, his helicopter is fired upon, and he barely has time to get a Mayday message out, pleading for Neil Brighton to rescue his son, before missiles destroy the chopper. Abdullah’s spies intercept the message, and the race is on to find the last son of Prince Saud. What no one knows is that Rassa has persuaded his powerful friend, Omar, to smuggle the princess and her child out of the region.
Soon the mercenaries of Prince Abdullah flood into the valley of Agha Jari Deh, seeking the young prince and the man Rassa. When Rassa refuses to surrender the boy, they burn him to death before Azadeh’s eyes and begin the grim task of killing all the young boys in the village, as well as any of the villagers who oppose them. Their work is interrupted by the sudden arrival of American soldiers—Sam’s unit—dispatched to help Prince Saud’s son. The Deltas frighten off the remaining enemy soldiers, but they are too late to do much good. Destruction and carnage are everywhere, and they hold out no real hope of finding the royal child they have come to rescue. After a quick assessment of the situation, the captain orders them back to the choppers, but on his way, Sam feels an impression that someone needs his help. He turns back to see Azadeh and feels instantly that he knows her somehow. As his platoon leader pulls him away, he calls to her to find her way to Khorramshahr, a U.N. refugee camp on the Iran/Iraq border, where he promises to have someone find her.
The Great and Terrible Page 88