by Mark Goodwin
Elijah smiled. “To make it like that you do. Why don’t you come up to my cabin tomorrow, and I’ll show you my technique. You’re free to use my smokehouse anytime you like. I’ve got a good stock of hickory, oak, and maple.”
“And the different woods, they all make the sausage taste different?”
“Oh yes. I’ve even figured out which herbs I like to blend with which hardwoods.”
“You’re in really good shape up there. You never really told us how you came to be so well prepared for the apocalypse. You must have had a heads-up from someone.”
Elijah snickered. “The four of you seem to have gone camping at just the right time as well. I might ask you the same thing.”
Everett couldn’t quite figure the old man out. It was as if he knew Everett wasn’t willing to get into how he knew about the events and why the four of them were so well prepared. But even with all of Jones’s supplies and warning, Everett’s group was nowhere near as well-prepared as Elijah.
Courtney interrupted the standoff. “We had a box of hot chocolate mix that we were saving for a special occasion. I think New Year’s Eve qualifies.”
Lisa passed the cups around. “May you all have a blessed new year, and may God watch over, protect, and provide for us all.”
Elijah lifted his cup in the air. “Father, I thank you for the simple blessings of warm hot chocolate and good company. I pray you will bless them all in the year to come.”
“Amen.” Ken toasted Elijah’s cup.
Everett was becoming more comfortable around the occasional references to Jesus and God. It seemed to bother him less, but he wasn’t about to say anything that would encourage it.
“Any news worth hearing about?” Elijah looked at Ken.
“None I want to tell.” Ken peered into his cup of hot chocolate.
Everett and Ken had monitored the hams earlier that evening. Everett said, “The plague has jumped the Chinese border and is now in India. The scientists are saying it’s the worst strain in history, and the outbreak is probably at the worst possible time. I hate to see what it’s doing to Asia, but the fact that there’s no air travel and very little in the way of boats coming into America right now is a positive for us.”
Everett took a deep breath. “We might be clear of plague, but typhoid is killing thousands of people all over the south. It’s now being reported in Tampa, Orlando, Savannah, Montgomery, Mobile, and New Orleans; Atlanta is nearly wiped out from it. It would have been so easy to stop with antibiotics and clean drinking water. And Ebola is sweeping across Africa. The World Health Organization originally thought the less developed countries would do better than the first world, but it looks like they can’t survive without our help.”
Elijah tilted his head to one side as if to indicate he didn’t fully agree with that statement. “Maybe.”
“Why, what do you think?” Everett quizzed.
Elijah shrugged. “Unless these outbreaks have had a little help to get moving.”
“And how would the outbreaks get help?” Everett turned to face the old man.
“Through genetic engineering. The Ebola outbreak in 2014 took months to get going. We only first heard of another outbreak in Africa the day after Christmas. And now you say it’s sweeping across the continent? The incubation period was as long as three weeks before.”
Everett sipped his cocoa. “But we don’t know how long it had been running by the time we first heard about it. News and information channels ain’t what they used to be.”
Elijah lifted his eyebrows. “This is true. But what about the plague in China? They took a hit economically, but they were more insulated than most. They certainly haven’t seen the political and civil unrest issues that America and Europe have had. I would have thought their governmental approach would have been well-suited for cutting off such an epidemic before it spread. It doesn’t sound like the garden-variety strain of plague. The speed at which both are being contracted would lead me to think they could be weaponized versions.”
“But who would have deployed them against the Chinese and African populations? It seems the globe has enough on its plate without bio-warfare.” Ken placed his cup on the counter.
Elijah looked at Everett. “It seemed to me that creating chaos was the agenda of the day. Everyone in this room agrees that it was most likely not the American Patriots for Christ that launched the attacks, correct?”
Everett looked into Elijah’s eyes. What is he fishing for, and how does he know this? Could he have been in the intelligence community? He doesn’t look or act like CIA. Could he have been with Mossad? Maybe he still is. Maybe he’s trying to infiltrate my team. Everett shook off the thought. I’m being paranoid. In the end, Everett never answered. “Courtney, can we take the snack plates in the living room and sit by the fire?”
“Sure.” She opened the bag Elijah had brought. “What is this? Homemade bread? No way!”
Elijah smiled brightly. “What would I do if I couldn’t make bread? I eat bread at almost every meal. You know, unground wheat will last for years.”
Courtney put her hands on her hips. “You grind your own wheat. You never cease to amaze me, Elijah.”
“Yes, yes. All of the nutrients begin to deplete once the wheat is ground. On top of that, the flour in the store has been stripped of the germ and the bran; it’s the best part. The Lord said we cannot live on bread alone, but—the old man paused for effect and put one finger in the air—“if you grind your own wheat, it will meet a great deal of your body’s needs.”
Lisa sliced the bread into thin slices and arranged them on a plate next to the various types of homemade sausage. “You guys go sit, and I’ll bring the snacks in the living room. And find something a little happier to talk about for New Year’s Eve. I’ve had enough Armageddon news to get me through till next year.”
As best they could, they tried to put the world behind them and enjoy the company and fine food in celebration of the coming year. While they avoided the topic, it was clear to all that the year to come could be worse than the one that was passing. This year, they’d survived. Next year, well, there were no guarantees.
CHAPTER 9
The end will come like a flood: War will continue until the end, and desolations have been decreed. He will confirm a covenant with many for one ‘seven.’
Daniel 9:26b-27a
Noah helped Cassie and Becky clear the table after breakfast. “That was a fantastic meal to start the year off right.”
Becky took the plates from Noah and stuck them in the sink. “You helped Sharon cook, so you go relax. We’ll clean up.”
“This is more relaxing to me than sitting around and worrying.”
“Suit yourself.” Becky washed and rinsed one of the plates.
Cassie took the clean plate and dried it. “Do you think we should let the girls listen to the address today or should we try to get them to play in their room?”
Becky shook her head. “If we try to keep it from them, they’ll know something’s wrong. I say we just let them do what they want.”
Noah poured the leftover coffee into his cup and put the coffee grounds into the compost bucket. “I agree. If they ask about it, we’ll explain it in a way that won’t worry them but they can understand. And if they don’t ask, we can leave the subject alone.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Becky pointed at the compost bucket. “The egg shells don’t go in there.”
“Really? I thought they were great for compost.” Noah was surprised.
Becky nodded. “They are, but the chickens need them more than the compost does. If the chickens don’t get enough calcium, they’ll lay eggs with very soft shells or even no shell at all. We crush the shells up very fine and mix them in with the scraps for the birds. If you put the droppings from the chicken coop in the compost, it will provide enough calcium for the garden.”
“Wow. I never knew that.” Noah picked the shells out of the compost and began breaking them up into the scrap
s for the birds.
“Speaking of scraps, I noticed Sox adjusted to eating people food pretty easily.” Becky dried her hands and helped Noah break up the shells.
Cassie rolled her eyes. “It was probably less of an adjustment than you might think.”
Becky giggled. “Why? Lacy was feeding him from the table already?”
“Yeah, but she didn’t learn that from me. And she was probably not the worst offender,” Cassie replied.
“Aha! Sounds like you’re responsible for the begging going on at most every meal.” Becky jokingly glared at Noah.
“In my defense, that cat is a vital member of our survival group. He has acted as babysitter for the girls and therapist for Sharon . . . and me, I might add.”
Sox sauntered into the kitchen as if he knew they were talking about him. He rubbed up against Cassie’s leg.
Cassie bent down to stroke him. “And me. I confess; there’s something about petting a cat that makes me feel better.”
Becky let her head drop to one side as she smiled at Sox. “He is so sweet. You’re right, Noah. The girls just love him.”
“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” Cassie snickered.
“And nobody can do it like Sox. I’ll be right back.” Noah winked at the cat, put on his coat, and then grabbed the compost bucket and the scraps for the chickens.
David walked into the kitchen dressed to go outside as well. “I was going to do that.”
“I don’t mind the company. Where’s your crutch?”
David looked at the cane in his hand. “I’m getting along pretty good with this.”
Noah admired the smooth cane. “That’s what you’ve been whittling on for the past couple of days?”
David opened the door with his free hand. “Yeah. It’s hickory. I had to sharpen my knife ever so often because the hickory is so hard that it kept wearing the edge off, but it makes a nice, strong cane.”
Noah led the way. “Still planning to go back to Sevierville on Monday?”
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Cassie and Becky, but Jim just talked to Benny. They got hit last night.”
Noah’s heart began to race. “What? Is everyone okay?”
“None of ours got hurt. It was a bunch of ruffians, probably out of Knoxville. There were six. Only two got away.”
“Any of the other four still alive to answer questions?”
“No, Kevin and Sarah haven’t really perfected the art of shooting to wound. Not that it would have worked in this instance. According to Benny, at around eleven last night, he was scanning the ham channels, when he heard tires in the gravel. He alerted Sarah and Kevin, who were playing rummy in the living room. They killed the lights and took their positions in the house. I guess the hoodlums were trying to pull off a home invasion. They shot the lock off with a shotgun slug and kicked the door. Benny waited for the first one to get inside before he blasted him with his shotgun. A second crook made the mistake of coming in the door and Sarah took him out. I guess by then, the others had decided they’d picked the wrong house, turned tails, and ran. Kevin ran out the door and ordered them to surrender, but they didn’t have the good sense to do that. Two of them turned their weapons on him, but they were dead before they could finish taking aim.”
“Wow! I’m glad they are all okay.” Noah was also glad he hadn’t been involved. He’d had his share of firefights and hoped he never saw another. “So, we’re ditching the plan of going back?”
David lifted the lid of the compost bin while Noah poured in the items from the house and stirred them in. “I’m not sure. We came out here to hide out from DHS because we wouldn’t have been able to confront an enemy that large who was actively looking for us. Lawless thugs are another thing altogether. We could try to get the sheriff’s department back together and do what we can to keep the predators from taking over. If it’s an achievable mission, I feel like it’s our duty to try. All of our friends are around there. Besides, we need our land to produce crops next year. This place is great, but we couldn’t get it converted into farm land in time to produce enough food for everyone. We probably have enough provisions to get us through to next fall, but that’s it.”
“And should all of us go back, or only the men?”
David leaned on his cane and looked up at the sky. “Good question. Fuel is tight, so we can’t be running back and forth.”
“What if the guys go back first? We could focus on getting law and order restored; then the girls could come home. Hopefully we can have them back well before planting season. We could start sprouting seeds indoors as early as February. If we did that, we might be able to get three harvests of crops that produce fast, like green beans, mustard greens, and peas.”
“I suppose everything will hinge on what we hear in the address, but that sounds like a pretty good plan to me.”
The address in Washington, DC, by UN Secretary Luz was scheduled to start at one o’clock in the afternoon, but Noah and the others were gathered around the living room by a quarter after twelve.
Elliot sat on the floor next to Caroline’s feet, as seating was limited. “They picked a good time to air the speech. A big chunk of Americans would be sitting around the television at this time on New Year’s Day to watch football anyway.”
Jim was on the couch with Caroline and Sandy. “And since PBS is the only surviving broadcaster, they’ve got no competition.”
Becky asked, “Who is this guy, Angelo Luz, anyway? I mean, where did he come from, and how does he have any authority to lay out any kind of plan for America? He’s certainly not elected, and however bad things may be around the country, the US is still a sovereign nation.”
Cassie shrugged. “We’ll see if that part about America being a sovereign nation is still true an hour from now. About who he is, his mother is Sylvana Rothschild; his father is supposedly Felipe Luz, a rich cousin to the King of Spain. At least that’s where Angelo gets his last name.”
“And unofficially?” David asked.
Cassie looked around the room as if she was checking to make sure the girls weren’t within earshot of what she was about to say. “Unofficially, he was conceived at an Illuminati orgy held at Waddeson Manor. The first-born sons of the world’s mega-elite were there, including Sylvana’s two brothers, Constantine Rothschild and Francis Rothschild.”
Sandy shook her head. “That is sick!”
David snorted. “It’s sort of the opposite of the virgin birth, isn’t it?”
Cassie raised her eyebrows, “If Luz turns out to be who I think he is, that would be par for the course. At any rate, all the men who participated in the unholy insemination see him as their son and heir to their power, as well as half their wealth. He may be the richest, most powerful man who has ever walked the earth, at least in the eyes of the people calling the shots. And at the end of the day, it’s their opinions that matter most. In short, if Angelo Luz purposes that he wants to do something, no one would dare oppose him.”
David nodded. “It all fits together. Do you have any idea why they’re making the announcement from DC, especially when the world hates America so much?”
Cassie crinkled her nose. “Yeah, but it’s creepy.”
“Let’s hear it,” Jim said.
Cassie took a deep breath. “While it’s true that America was largely founded by Christians who wanted to worship freely, the secret societies have had a hand in it from the beginning as well. While the Christians saw it as an opportunity to have their own country, the secret societies saw it as an opportunity to build a new Atlantis, sort of an esoteric utopia, founded on the mystery religions of the world.”
Sandy interrupted. “Mystery Babylon, like in Revelation seventeen.”
Cassie pointed at Sandy. “Bingo! A large part of these esoteric mystery religions trace their origins back to Babylon. You may remember from Genesis ten that the founder of Babylon was Nimrod, who was responsible for building the Tower of Babel. We all know that no one cou
ld build a tower into space, and even if they could, so what? We’ve sent men to the moon and God didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Why then, did he feel the need to put an end to what was going on at the Tower of Babel?
“The Aramaic word for ‘gate’ is ‘bab’ and the word for ‘god’ is ‘el’ as in El Shaddai, which means God Almighty. So bab el could be translated ‘gate of the gods.’ Some scholars suggest that what Nimrod was trying to build was a gateway into another dimension, most likely for demonic activity. Many think that his tower was more like a ziggurat, a stepped pyramid, which are found all over the world, especially in cultures that worshiped the sun. By the way, Nimrod was the first to be worshiped as the sun god. He later came to be known as Baal in the Middle East and Horus in Egypt. In every culture where you find pyramids and sun worship, like Egypt and South America, you’ll find a huge division between the common folks and the priest class, which were a sort of secret society. Perhaps not so coincidentally, Masonic lodges are referred to as temples, just as they were for the priests of Egypt, the Mayans, and the Incas. And like the pagan cultures, Masons pour out libations of oil and wine mixed with corn when they dedicate a building. Most of the Old Testament prophets specifically point to sacrifices to other gods as being one of the primary reasons that God judged Israel.”
Elliot stroked his chin. “But even if it is a sacrifice, who’s to say they aren’t making the sacrifice to God?”
Cassie tittered. “They never mention that it’s a sacrifice to Jehovah, which means it is being offered up to another deity. Besides, the old sacrificial system was completed by the blood of Christ and done away with by the New Covenant. When we try to reach God through the old sacrificial system, we are categorically denying the power of Christ. The only sacrifices under the New Covenant sanctioned by the New Testament are the giving of ourselves through obedience and praise. Even if the corn, oil, and wine were being poured out as an offering to God, it would still be an abominable rejection of the blood of Christ.