Shaken

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “The girl being held outside is my friend. We need to help her.”

  “They’ve probably already put her in the van. There’s no way …”

  Natalie’s voice trailed as screams came from the hallway. Now panicked voices, shouting, and hundreds of kids running.

  “Stay here,” Natalie said and left.

  Moments later she returned. “You’re not going to believe this. Come on.”

  “But they’ll see—”

  Natalie shook her head. “You’re the least of their worries now.”

  The two made their way through the frightened crowd to the outer ring of the arena. There, Vicki looked through huge windows at a sight she would never forget. Bearing down on them were thousands upon thousands of horses and riders. Hundreds of kids streamed through the smoke- and sulfur-filled hallways, knocking each other down, trampling, coughing, gasping for air, and covering their mouths.

  “This is the first I’ve seen of these things,” Natalie whispered. “I read Dr. Ben-Judah’s descriptions, but this is worse than I imagined.”

  Vicki quickly told of her encounter with the horsemen at the schoolhouse. “Remember, the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world.”

  Natalie nodded. “But what’s going to happen to all these people?”

  Kids were desperately trying to get outside, but those already out were scrambling to get back inside. “A lot of people are going to die today.”

  A Morale Monitor raced through the crowd toward Natalie. He raised his gun and fired at the huge window behind them. Glass crashed in the hallway, spreading everywhere. Before Natalie could stop him, the boy jumped through the window and fell to certain death.

  Natalie handed Vicki a small key. “Find your friend. This will open the handcuffs.”

  Vicki gave the girl the address of the kid’s Web site, www.theunderground-online.com. “If they discover you or if you want a safe place to stay, write us.”

  Vicki pushed through the crowd. Kids huddled in corners, screaming and crying. Others had already been trampled to death, their crumpled bodies strewn in the hall like rag dolls. Vicki stepped over bodies, stopping to check for a pulse here and there, soon realizing there was no point.

  She spotted the GC truck that had been used for the satellite uplink. A microphone lay on the pavement. The Morale Monitor who had caught Melinda was gone. Mark and Shelly ran up and hugged Vicki. Darrion followed a few moments later.

  “I thought they had you,” Shelly said.

  “Let’s get Melinda,” Vicki said.

  As they walked across the plaza toward the truck, Vicki had to focus. Horses with lions’ heads galloped overhead and angry riders bore down on the frightened crowds. Vicki knew she wasn’t in danger, but walking close to the thundering herd of demonic beasts was still scary.

  Vicki picked up the dented microphone. The truck door was closed, but through a small window she saw an incredible display of video monitors and a huge mixing console. Shelly gave a whoop from the front of the truck, and Vicki and Mark came running.

  In the driver’s seat sat the Morale Monitor who had shown Melinda on the worldwide satellite feed. Her eyes were open, but she had stopped breathing. Beside her sat Melinda, handcuffed to the passenger-side door handle.

  Vicki used the key and quickly freed Melinda. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A huge explosion rocked the plaza. The kids huddled behind the truck and watched the arena fill with flames. Kids scrambled to get out of the way. Some were caught in the blast and killed instantly. Others were trapped inside.

  “We have to help them!” Mark yelled over the noise. He ran to the front of the building. Kids screamed and pounded on a huge window, trying to get out. Vicki picked up a heavy rock and threw it as hard as she could, but it didn’t even crack the glass.

  “Too thick!” Mark said. “I’ll be right back.” He ran from the area, fumbling in his pocket for something.

  Vicki and the others helped as many kids as they could. Some coughed and wheezed, trying to breathe. Others lay motionless.

  Moments later Mark raced up in their car. He honked the horn and yelled, “Tell them to move back from the window!”

  Vicki motioned for the kids to move back as Mark revved the engine and hurtled toward the building. The crash sent glass flying as kids streamed out, pushing and shoving.

  When they had done all they could do, Mark inspected the car. “Flat tire. I’ll change it before we head back.”

  Vicki looked at Melinda. “How did you get here from the schoolhouse?”

  “Walked to the main road and hitched a ride.”

  Vicki frowned. “No way all five of us are getting in this little car.”

  Mark touched Vicki’s shoulder. “I have an idea.”

  14

  “YOU can’t be serious,” Vicki said, pulling Mark away from the others.

  “I’m dead serious. I’ve had this idea for a long time. This truck could help people learn the truth about God.”

  “But that thing costs hundreds of thousands of Nicks! It’s not right to steal it, even if it’s for a good cause.”

  “We wouldn’t be stealing it; we’d borrow it.”

  Darrion approached and asked what was wrong. Vicki told her.

  “I’m with Vick,” Darrion said. “The GC will come looking for this.”

  Mark pointed at the arena. “The GC is reeling from this judgment. They won’t be back in operation for at least a couple of days. We can work on my idea in the meantime.”

  “Tell us,” Darrion said.

  “I want to break into the GC satellite feed. We wouldn’t have much time, but if Carl helped us from Florida, it might work.”

  Vicki squinted. “You mean, go live to the arena?”

  “Not just here, but to every country taking the feed. Think of it! Everybody twenty and under will be at these meetings. If we come up with a creative way to tell the truth, something slick the GC will think is supposed to be there, it could be huge. And with the equipment in the truck, we can record a drop-in and they wouldn’t know it’s anti-Carpathia until it’s too late.”

  “Didn’t you guys do this with a newspaper at your school?” Darrion said.

  “Exactly,” Mark said. “It’ll be the Underground by satellite. What do you think?”

  Vicki hesitated. “I like the idea. I don’t like stealing.”

  “How else are we going to do it?”

  “He’s got a point,” Darrion said. “It’s a shame to waste the opportunity.”

  Vicki pursed her lips. She knew once Mark got an idea, it was difficult to talk him out of it. Vicki recalled the discussions they had had about the militia movement. Judd and Mark’s cousin John had advised Mark not to get involved, but he hadn’t listened. Vicki wished Judd could help make the decision about the truck.

  “I don’t feel good about it,” Vicki said. “If God wants us to do this, he’ll provide—”

  “He is providing a way!” Mark shouted. “Don’t you see? He’s put this truck right in front of us, and you’re letting it slip through our fingers.”

  Vicki tried to talk, but Mark cut her off. “Every time Buck Williams writes an article for his Internet magazine, The Truth, he’s breaking the law. Every time Tsion Ben-Judah writes a letter about Carpathia to believers, he’s breaking the law.”

  “That’s different. They’re telling the truth, not stealing from the GC.”

  “Dr. Ben-Judah was a wanted man, and Buck smuggled him out of Israel. Was that right?”

  “Of course! Buck saved Tsion’s life.”

  “A lot of people lost their lives today,” Mark said. “I want to tell those who are still alive the truth before it’s too late.”

  “I agree. I just don’t think God would want us to break one of his commandments so we—”

  “Fine,” Mark interrupted. “I won’t argue theology with the great Vicki Byrne!”

  “That’s a cheap shot!”


  Mark turned and stomped toward the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out the spare tire.

  Darrion put a hand on Vicki’s shoulder. “Don’t let Mark change your mind. Stick with what you know is right.”

  Lionel watched the final assault of the horsemen with terror and fascination. He knew these were demonic beings, the same as the locusts. But how did they know which people would die? How did the smoke and sulfur and fire kill only people who weren’t believers?

  Lionel’s friend Sam Goldberg logged onto the official Global Community Web site to get the latest official information. “They don’t want to admit it, but these horsemen have to be killing a lot of GC personnel.”

  As the horsemen continued their rampage, Lionel walked alone through the streets near Yitzhak’s house. People who had been overcome by the smoke and fumes lay dead in the street. Those who had survived coughed and wandered about, looking for family members. Men and women cried like children. It was a scene his parents wouldn’t have let him watch on TV, but now he was living it.

  He stood on a corner and watched several Peacekeepers load bodies into a truck. Where will the GC put all the bodies? He shuddered and kept walking.

  Lionel wanted to be home with the others in the Young Tribulation Force. They had been here in Israel so long. But Mr. Stein’s plan of reaching people at Carpathia’s Gala interested him. He could wait the three months until that was over to get back to his friends.

  As he walked past abandoned cafés and street vendors’ booths, he thought about the changes in the nearly three and a half years since the disappearances. He missed his brother and sisters more than he wanted to admit. He had trouble remembering their faces. He had one worn photo of his family left, and he took it from his wallet now and studied it. Clarice had been sixteen when the Rapture happened, the same age as he was now. A wave of guilt swept over him. He had pulled so many pranks on Clarice, everything from messing up her room to lying to boys who called her on the phone. He had once been so mad that he threw her favorite hairbrush in the toilet.

  Lionel hadn’t treated his little brother and sister, Ronnie and Talia, that bad. In fact, he had hardly paid attention to them. He called them “munchkins.” When Ronnie asked him to play basketball or ride bikes, Lionel made up some lame excuse.

  Lionel’s dad, Charles, had been a heavy-equipment operator in Chicago. He worked long days and was usually exhausted when he got home. Weekends were spent at church, but a few times he’d taken Lionel to a White Sox game.

  Thoughts of his family came back at different times. Sunday mornings were hard. Lionel remembered the drive into the city, the stop at the donut shop where the kids would pick out their favorites. Birthdays at his house had been a huge deal, with cakes and presents, parties, and friends. His mom had always organized the fun. She had a way of knowing exactly what Lionel wanted, even without asking him. It was almost like she could crawl inside his mind. He would come home from a bad day at school and try to keep it inside.

  But when his mom got home from her job at Global Weekly, all it took was one look. “What’s wrong?” she would say, and he would spill it all. Of all the people on earth, he missed his mother the most.

  On the morning of the disappearances, Lionel had been with his uncle André. It didn’t take Lionel long to figure out what had happened. Unlike others who didn’t have a clue, he knew exactly where his family was. Sitting next to his father’s bedclothes, watching the horrifying news on television, he had felt so alone. Why couldn’t he have been taken to heaven? But he knew the answer. He had never begun a relationship with God. He had played the good Christian, and everyone bought it. Everyone but God.

  Now, as Lionel walked through the burning streets of Jerusalem, he knew there were many others just like him. They had either played at church, or they believed there was some way to God other than through Jesus.

  Lionel found himself quite a distance from Yitzhak’s house. He turned to retrace his steps, but stopped when he saw part of the city with no smoke or fire. He was near the Wailing Wall. A few steps farther and he saw Eli and Moishe, the two prophets of God.

  Vicki and the others waited while Mark changed the tire. They could barely see through the smoke and fire near the arena. It billowed black and yellow.

  “Will these things disappear like the locusts?” Shelly said.

  Vicki shrugged. “I guess they’ll leave when they’re supposed to.”

  Melinda watched for any sign of GC Peacekeepers. Most had run away or had been killed. A few walked through the crowds, coughing and sputtering.

  Vicki took Melinda aside. “I thought we made it clear you would stay at the schoolhouse.”

  “I know,” Melinda said, “but I was so excited—”

  “I understand, but you’re not just living for yourself now. You’re part of a group. What you do or don’t do affects everyone.”

  “I didn’t think about getting you guys into trouble.”

  Mark finished with the tire and handed Shelly the keys. “There’s not enough room for all of us. You guys head back.”

  “We’re not leaving without you,” Vicki said.

  “Yes, you are. I’ll find another way.”

  “No!” Melinda said. “This is my fault.”

  Mark held up a hand. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see you guys back at the schoolhouse.”

  Vicki nodded and all four girls climbed inside the little car. As Shelly drove away, Vicki noticed Mark walking into a thick cloud of smoke.

  “How’s he getting back?” Darrion said.

  “He’ll find a way.”

  Lionel walked slowly toward the two witnesses. They still wore sackcloth robes and looked like the picture of John the Baptist in Lionel’s first Bible. They had dark, leathery skin, and their feet were dirty. Their bony hands stuck out of their clothes like sticks, and their long gray hair and beards floated in the breeze.

  Each time Lionel had seen the two witnesses in televised reports, there were crowds of curious onlookers and GC guards nearby. Now there were only dead bodies near them.

  Lionel wondered if the two would notice him. If they did, would they speak to him?

  Eli turned his head slightly and said, “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who trusts in him!”

  Moishe, without moving his lips, raised his voice. “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry. The face of the Lord is against those who do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.”

  Eli stood and motioned for Lionel to come further. “‘The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart.’”

  Lionel thought of Judd and Nada’s family. Could these two prophets of God be giving him a message for them?

  “Comfort one another with these words,” Moishe said. Lionel sighed and inched closer. “If you’ll permit me to ask a question?”

  The two stared past Lionel. Finally, Eli moved his head a few inches.

  “I know the Bible says you’re going to prophesy for a set time. What happens after that?”

  Eli and Moishe spoke together. “As it is written, ‘And I will give power to my two witnesses, and they will prophesy one thousand two hundred and sixty days.’”

  “ ‘When they finish their testimony,’” Eli said alone, “‘the beast that ascends out of the bottomless pit will make war against them, overcome them, and kill them.’”

  The two witnesses fell silent, with sad looks on their faces. Finally, Moishe said, “Take heed. The god of this world seeks the death of those who follow the true and living God. Be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.”

  “The beginning and ending are written in the book,” Eli said. “Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly divining the word of truth.”

  Eli and Moishe sat. Lionel could tell his time was up. He didn’t know what to do, s
o he bowed, said thank you, and left.

  As Lionel walked to Yitzhak’s house, he thought about Eli’s and Moishe’s faithfulness to God. He slipped inside the house unnoticed and looked up the first news report about the witnesses. Carefully counting the number of days, Lionel calculated when the 1,260th day would be. He studied a calendar and gasped.

  Mark Eisman watched Vicki and the others drive away. He climbed a brick wall near the arena to survey the area. Bodies littered the plaza and fire licked at buildings. A gas station a few blocks away was nothing but a hole in the ground.

  Mark walked back into the arena. The screen was blank and the auditorium empty, except for dead bodies. Through a window he noticed the satellite truck. He ran outside, keeping watch for Peacekeepers or Morale Monitors, and climbed behind the wheel.

  He picked up a cell phone on the seat and punched a few numbers. After several rings a man answered and said, “Satcom headquarters.”

  “Carl Meninger, stat!” Mark said.

  Vicki and the others were exhausted when they pulled up to the schoolhouse. Lenore made them all sit and tell what had happened while she made dinner.

  Charlie stood. “What’s that rumbling?”

  Vicki went to the window. A cloud of dust rose from the secret entrance to the hideout.

  Janie rushed into the kitchen. “Is it the smoke and fire again?”

  “I don’t think so,” Vicki said. She ran outside and gasped as a satellite truck pulled in front of the schoolhouse.

  Conrad gave a low whistle. “Cool.”

  Vicki shook her head. “Not cool.”

  Mark jumped out. “I know what you’re thinking. Just hear me out.”

  Vicki crossed her arms. “We agreed we weren’t going to steal GC property.”

  “That’s the good news. This truck doesn’t even exist. Carl got into the computer at headquarters. This thing was destroyed in the attack.”

  “How could it be destroyed if we have it?” Charlie said.

  “They’ll never look for it,” Mark said.

  Conrad ran to the back of the truck and opened the door. “Hey, guys, come see this!”