“If that’s true, then the world will be a far better place without millions of hatemongers and bigots,” the believer in aliens concludes.
Elliott reaches for the phone on the floor and picks it up, desperate to hear his parents’ voices.
CHAPTER 7
Queens, NY
Emma opens the door to her apartment and Matt grabs her, pulling her inside. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling for hours! I thought you were gone!”
She falls into him. “I thought you…I couldn’t get through. My mom is…”
He pushes her from him. “What? What?!”
Her face is contorted and wet. “My mom is gone, and so are Carrie and Reggie and Mrs. Ramos and her family.”
He puts his hands on top of his head and sways from side to side with his mouth open. “What’s happening?” He mutters, running to the TV and pointing. “People are missing everywhere! It’s not just here. It’s all over the world.”
Emma’s legs feel heavy as boulders as she walks to the TV, staring at images from Oklahoma and Dubai, Charleston and Barcelona. She wipes tears from her face, covering her mouth as she watches. In one video after another security cameras from banks, malls, hospitals, businesses, government buildings, airports, schools, grocery stores, military bases, prisons, and surveillance systems from around the world reveal the disappearance of countless people who vanished right off the streets, from lobbies, waiting rooms, supermarket aisles, school playgrounds, offices, airport security lines, university campuses, and restaurants. Reporters are on the streets, in cemeteries, and in news studios, trying to piece together what has happened.
Emma’s legs lose whatever strength is left and she falls to the sofa, staring at the screen. “What have they been saying?”
Matt shakes his head. “A lot of them are saying terrorism. Many are saying it’s aliens.”
“That’s what Gina said.”
“Who’s Gina?”
She can’t stop looking at the screen. “A girl who works at Mrs. Ramos’s deli. I was running by there and went in to tell them that she was gone, but the entire place was empty.” She begins to cry and Matt sits next to her, holding her head on his chest. “Carlos, Viviana, Angel, Luis, and Mrs. Ramos and her husband. All gone. Just Gina was there. Hiding in the refrigerator from aliens.” She looks at him. “Aliens!”
“It could be. Or terrorists.”
She presses the palms of her hands to her eyes. “How did terrorists make people disappear from the rehabilitation room?” She points to the TV screen at the reporter in a cemetery. “How did they open graves and empty them out?”
“Nobody knows, Emma.”
She turns to look at him, trembling. “Where did they go? Why were they taken?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
Hysteria is rising in her voice. “Mateo said it was some sort of evil that vaporized people.”
“What sort of…”
She screams over him. “Why is my mother gone and where is she?!”
“I don’t know.” He pulls her to him again. “I don’t know.”
Israel
Since the nation of Israel went on lockdown, Zerah, his parents, and his sister Rada’s family have not left his parents’ bomb shelter. The entire Israeli Defense Forces have taken their positions around the country, prepared to defend Israel and her citizens from attack. Many residents have disappeared, but with so many in bomb shelters, there’s no way to get an accurate count.
“How did this happen?” his father Chaim says, rubbing his head of white hair, his hands shaking from the tremors or fear, or both. “What sort of evil did this to the world?”
“Papa, you’re looking pale,” Rada says. “You shouldn’t get so excited.”
Rada’s oldest child, eight-year-old Taavi, wraps his arms around his grandfather’s neck and leans against him. Rada’s three-year-old daughter, Batya, sits on her father’s lap, unaware of what is happening.
“I keep trying to understand,” Zerah’s mother says. “Who were these people who have disappeared? And why?”
“I think a colleague is one of them,” Zerah says from the sofa.
Each family member turns to look at him. “Why do you think that?” Rada says.
“She was right behind me as we were headed to a meeting. We all took our places and she wasn’t there. I went back into the hall and all the way to the reception desk looking for her. She wasn’t anywhere. I tried calling her cell phone in the meeting, but she didn’t answer, and then our meeting was interrupted with news of this,” he says, pointing to the TV screen.
“She could have had an emergency,” his mother says.
“That’s what I thought, so I tried calling her repeatedly.”
“With no answer?” his sister says. Zerah shakes his head no.
His father stands and paces the small living room. “Who was she?”
“Dr. Miriam Haas,” Zerah says. “A good doctor. A wife and mom. We didn’t talk beyond research. She was a messianic believer.”
“That’s one of the theories!” Rada says.
“It is preposterous!” Chaim yells, silencing his daughter. No one would say the name of Jesus Christ in this household. They turn their eyes to the TV and watch in silence.
CHAPTER 8
Queens, NY
Rick and Brandon sit on the sofa in Matt and Emma’s apartment, drinking. It has been the only way to soothe their nerves as they have watched events unfold on TV for the last seven hours. Emma has turned her eyes from the screen many times at images of people looting buildings throughout the country. In the past, many have resorted to theft and property damage following elections or after a sports team’s loss, but watching this behavior after the disappearance of millions makes Emma wince. At three in the morning they are all nauseous from fright; their eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion and swollen from crying.
“This has shaken the foundation of our global security to the core,” the newscaster says to the panel of experts in front of him. “We’ve seen the debilitation of our government and the military. Our stock market has plummeted, and as a result we’re witnessing the chaos in the international financial markets. Tokyo, Hong Kong, Paris, London, and other world markets are falling, toppling like dominoes, which will surely usher the world into a global depression. What does it mean for the housing market and loan institutions across the country? Our own banking system or business and manufacturing? What does it mean for our schools, health care, transportation, or our food supply? What about our…”
Emma can see the news anchor’s mouth moving but can’t process what he’s saying anymore. “What happened to the old couple I picked up off the street? What happened to the teenage kid who was alone, or the people crammed into the truck with me?”
“They’re home, Em,” Matt says. “Just like you.”
“With their families? Or are they gone?” Her eyes are heavy and dark rings have formed beneath them.
“It had to be aliens or Satan,” Rick says, squeezing Brandon’s hand. “Those are the only things that make sense.”
Emma becomes angry. “How does Satan taking people make any more sense than Jesus taking his followers?”
“Come on, Em,” Matt says. “Nobody believes that theory.”
She stands, pacing in front of the TV. “How is that any more outlandish than aliens or chemical warfare or people being vaporized by some satanic force?”
Matt attempts to calm her. “Come on, sit down. You’re exhausted and upset. You still miss your dad and now your mom…”
His voice is kind and Emma doesn’t want to sound shrill, but she does. “My mom wasn’t abducted by aliens! What kind of answer is that? It’s insane!”
“We’re all just trying figure it out, Em,” Brandon says. “But maybe we don’t have as much at stake as you do.”
He smiles, and her heart softens. Throughout the night as texts confirmed where their loved ones were, she has wondered if they have all secretl
y sighed in relief that it was her mom that was taken and not theirs. She slumps into a chair and looks at them. “That guy on TV said that Christians believed that one day Jesus would call for his followers and take them up to where he is. My mom followed him. So did my dad. They took Sarah and me to church, but we never believed like they did.”
Her voice is cracking, and Matt moves from his chair and sits on the floor in front of her, holding her hand. “You believe in God, Emma. I believe in God and Rick and Brandon believe in God.”
“I don’t believe in God,” Rick says.
“But you do believe in Satan?” Emma snaps. “You believe in evil but not in good. Makes sense.”
Rick opens his mouth, but Matt lifts his hand. “Rick doesn’t believe but we do, and we all believe in Jesus.”
She shakes her head. “But it’s different. There’s something different in just believing but I don’t know what it is. My mom told me several times that even demons believe.”
Matt grips her hand tighter. “What does that have to do with anything? You can’t compare yourself to demons. You are a good, honest person. You are one of the kindest people I’ve ever known in my life. You are helpful and generous and sweet and sincere. Your mom wasn’t taken because she was any better than you. We don’t know why she was taken, but it wasn’t because she believed in God any stronger than you did or than I did or than Brandon did.” Her eyes are full looking at him. She wants to believe him.
“Mrs. Ramos was right there in front of me. My hands were on her shoulders when her eyes darted upward as if she saw or heard something.”
“Like she was scared?” Matt asks.
“No. It was…” She tries to find the right word, remembering. “It was like somebody she knew had just called her name. Her eyes flicked upward and…” She begins to cry. “And she was gone. Right out of my hands.” Matt squeezes her shoulder, pulling her tighter to him. “Even some of the footage on TV shows some people at malls or grocery stores, work, or wherever, and some of them glanced up.” She looks at Brandon and Rick. “I think they heard Jesus.” Matt and Rick exchange glances but remain quiet, not wanting to upset her more.
“How could Jesus make all those people disappear?” Brandon asks.
She looks at him. “How could aliens? How could Satan?”
Rick shakes his head. “We’re just going to have to wait for some answers. Someone will figure it out.”
To discover more about the biblical facts behind the story, read Where in the Word? on page 199, or continue reading the novel.
CHAPTER 9
Queens, NY
Elliott has barely moved from the TV during the last twelve hours. After he heard the noise of an apartment down the hall being ransacked and looted, he has been afraid to leave. He hasn’t slept and has scarcely eaten; he can’t tear himself away from the news coverage.
Countless numbers of people are crossing the border from Mexico into California, New Mexico, Arizona, and Texas; on the video on TV, they look like ants scurrying along the ground and over the border. North Korea has fired nuclear warheads at South Korea, inflicting incalculable loss. India and Pakistan, both powder kegs before the vanishings, are now engaged in a war that’s already killed thousands. Sects in Lebanon are in battles of bloodletting; many African countries have erupted in conflicts against each other throughout the continent, resulting in gruesome images on the screen; Vietnam, Japan, and the Philippines are in a war against China over the South China Seas; and countless other conflicts are raging around the globe. In a blood-soaked attempt to take over the government of Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood has assassinated key leaders, but their attempt against the president’s life has failed. Despite the peace agreement drawn up by President Banes between Israelis and Palestinians, clashes are already raging in their lands. Unprecedented unrest saturates the globe, and thoughts reel in Elliott’s mind. It’s unfathomable that this nightmare is the world’s new reality.
Noise from the TV jolts Elliott awake at five in the morning. He works out the kinks in his neck, unaware he fell asleep twenty minutes ago. He stands up from the chair and stares at the screen. The US Capitol, the Pentagon, the White House, and much of DC is in rubble as smoke and ash rise from bomb-cratered buildings and roads.
“An unprecedented attack against our nation’s capital took place less than ten minutes ago,” the breathless anchor says. “It is unclear who is behind the attack, but much of the city’s main houses of power were targeted. This is complete devastation. My God! Look at those images! The president, speaking from a safe house, has issued a warning to all major cities to evacuate.” The president is seen standing in front of a background that is the great seal of the United States, appearing to maintain composure in light of his own personal loss, and urging people to flee.
Elliott falls back into the chair; his ears are ringing with a deafening noise. His body feels paralyzed. The woman on the subway was right: Satan and his demons have been let loose and the world is now gripped by darkness. He tries calling his parents again; this must be the hundredth time. The call won’t go through and he clicks on text messages, typing Get out of city! Nukes r coming! He pushes send and hopes it will go through. He cries when his phone buzzes.
Ur alive! We love u! We’l try. Pleas get out too! Meet at Harold’s
His uncle’s house in southern Ohio. He texts I love u! B careful! C u in OH. I promise!
He pushes send and holds the phone to his forehead, weeping. The sound of an explosion hurls him to his feet and he runs for the door, but falls, crippled by intense, blinding light.
“Look up, Elliott.” It’s an unfamiliar voice, terrifying and awful, yet good and kind, and Elliott covers his head on the floor. “Look up, Elliott.” Elliott lifts his head, shielding his eyes from the light, and screams. He struggles to see but the light is too powerful, filling the room and moving in waves. He wants to stand but his body is at peace, floating, filled with indescribable warmth. It seems he’s been like this for hours when the voice says, “Look at me, Elliott.”
He moves his hand from his eyes and can make out the face of a man unlike any he’s ever seen. His eyes are brighter than the sun and Elliott hunches over again, putting his forehead to the floor.
“Do you know who I am?”
A wind surges through the room when the figure speaks, and Elliott grips his fingers into the carpet, holding on. “I don’t know!” He screams into the wind. “Hashem! Help me!” Elliott feels a touch on his shoulder, and his body fills with heat as peace flows through every cell. He lifts his head.
“I am Yeshua. Your Messiah.” Elliott trembles at the name. “Don’t be afraid, Elliott. You are one of my chosen servants for this time.”
Elliott sees the hands of Jesus among the waves of light and his heart throbs at the sight of puncture wounds in each of his palms. “You are!” Elliott reaches for him. “You are Yeshua!”
“I am.” Wind fills the room again as Jesus touches his hand.
“All those people,” Elliott says into the gusts. “They were yours.”
He senses Jesus’s smile and the wind subsides. “They are all here with me, and now you and your Jewish brothers will be my 144,000 servants on the earth who will lead people to the truth.”
Elliott stumbles for words, shielding his eyes. “How? I don’t know how to do that. Truth is different for everyone.”
“I am the way, the truth, and the life. I am Truth, Elliott.”
The wind blows across Elliott’s face and he feels it…it is Truth. For the first time in his life he believes that Jesus is the Messiah. He is Truth. Elliott is shaking as he speaks. “What do I do?”
“Stay in the city. The Holy Spirit will lead you and teach you as you spread word of my love. He will instruct you on when to leave the city. Don’t be afraid to open your mouth to speak; the Holy Spirit will fill you with the words you need. The end is coming on the whole world, but I will come back again, and every eye will see me. Then I will make all thing
s new. Great multitudes will listen to you as you lead them to me, Elliott. You will be one of my greatest witnesses throughout the earth.”
A hand shimmering with waves of light touches Elliott’s forehead with searing heat. “You are sealed with my protection. Nothing and no one can harm you.” Elliott is jolted by the sound of a deafening explosion. The building quakes, and outside his living room window buildings crumble across the river, but he looks at Jesus. “Rest, Elliott. Lie down and rest.”
As the sound of wailing inside his building grows louder, Elliott closes his eyes.
CHAPTER 10
Queens, NY
Every resident of the apartment building huddles in the basement with Matt and Emma: Rick and Brandon; Piya and Aarav and their two children; Mr. and Mrs. Gruebber, the elderly couple on the first floor—he was once a professor of classic literature; the Kramers with their son, Brody; the single mom on the second floor and her two children; and the Kleins with their two children. Emma rarely saw any of these people with the exception of Rick and Brandon. Some brought twin mattresses or sofa cushions as feeble protection. The hours of darkness in the windowless basement has made it feel like a tomb, each person struggling in the quiet after the bombing.
“What’s going to happen?” Piya’s daughter asks. She looks to be around nine years old, but Emma doesn’t know and she regrets how little time she’s taken to meet the people in her building.
“We’re not sure,” Piya says. “We just want to make sure we’re safe.”
“Will they keeping attacking us?”
Piya feels the others looking at her, but can’t answer her daughter.
“I think they’ve stopped,” Matt says.
“You don’t know that,” Mr. Kramer snaps. He’s a man in his thirties with a receding hairline and sharp, angular features.
The Time of Jacob's Trouble Page 5