As the pilots began to rev up the power on their birds, they curiously began to fly in a large circle in the huge hangar. Faster and faster they went.
A deafening roar came from outside as the remaining F-16s screamed toward them like angry eagles diving for their prey. Missiles and bombs rained down from the jets, obliterating everything outside the hangar. Such was the skill of the pilots, however, that the hangar itself was not touched.
Cloe heard the launch of a slew of RPGs seeking the jets at the same time she heard the jets go to afterburners. As if on a signal, the lead helicopter roared out of the hangar, propelled by the centrifugal force built up inside of it. Cloe’s helicopter rocketed out not thirty yards behind the lead bird. As she shot by what remained of the attackers, who were frantically trying to reload their missiles, she saw a huge, redheaded man behind a military personnel carrier who bore the mantle of leadership. The man, who was badly scarred, looked directly at her with hate in his eyes. He raised his right hand in a fist as he realized he and his men had been beaten.
The lead helicopter stayed about ten feet off the ground but quickly peeled to the left while Cloe’s ride went right. They passed swiftly out of the line of sight of the attackers as their exit was protected by other hangars and buildings. They were, for the moment, safe.
The image of the redheaded man burned into Cloe’s mind. She had no doubt he was the leader of the men Icar had sent for them.
“Until we meet again,” she whispered.
CHAPTER
83
“Destination?” yelled Sky inside Cloe’s helicopter.
Cloe looked at her team and read their faces.
“Har-Megiddo,” she said forcefully.
“Aye, ma’am,” responded Sky, smiling. He twisted his dials, punched a couple of buttons, and said, “ETA thirty-five minutes.”
The monsignor smiled at her and said, “This is right. Megiddo is the omega, the end.”
“Albert, what are the logistics we need to know about Megiddo?” she asked.
“Well, Har-Megiddo is actually a hill, not a mountain, overlooking the Plains of Megiddo,” said the priest.
“Yes,” said the curator. “It has been made by many civilizations building their dwellings on top of each other for thousands of years. Thus, it rises above the plains around it and may be considered a mount.”
“The top of the hill is flat and contains the ruins of many houses, stables, palaces, and churches. It has been excavated by archeologists many times,” said the monsignor. “That’s where we will find the beast.”
At that point, the man in the copilot’s seat turned back to them and said, “Good afternoon, Dr. Lejeune.”
Cloe studied the young man, now in a military headset and helmet. Did she know him?
“Jacob!” screamed Cloe, “Captain Jacob. How? How are you? We thought you were in the hospital!”
The young Israeli glanced at Sky and then rotated in his seat and slipped back onto the deck facing the passengers.
“I was in the hospital, but I was feeling better, and when I heard about this, I thought I might tag along,” he said with a huge smile.
Cloe hugged the young man. Bully nuzzled him with his massive face, almost knocking him backward.
“Whoa, boy!” said the captain, giving Bully a scratch around his ears and back.
Soon the smile faded from the young captain’s face. “Dr. Lejeune, what have you learned? We need all the intel we can get.”
Cloe and the monsignor, shouting over the noise of the helicopter, quickly filled him in on the events in Iceland and what they had discerned from the translation.
“So you think the mount where evil will be sealed is Har-Megiddo?” he said, more as a question than a statement.
“Yes,” said the monsignor, recounting the possibilities and why they thought the final battle would be at Megiddo.
“I tend to agree,” said Captain Jacob, turning back toward his headset and radio. “I will notify my people. We will be there in force.”
***
“Albert, we haven’t really had time to talk about this, but what does your designation as the vicar of St. Michael the archangel mean … exactly?” asked Cloe, as Jacob spoke quietly to his superiors.
“It’s an ancient designation, an office in the Church that has been unfilled for a thousand years,” the priest started. “Michael the archangel led the fight to oust the fallen angels from heaven. He is Satan’s equal and opposite. We can never replace St. Michael, but this is the Church’s way of saying we are in the fight to the end.”
“Amazing,” Cloe said.
“Albert has been imbued with what are reputedly St. Michael’s spear and sword,” said the curator. “These have been in the care of the Church from its earliest days. Our tradition says these weapons were used to vanquish Satan in the battle mentioned in Revelation.”
“What good will a spear and sword do against modern weapons?” asked Cloe. “You saw what happened at the hangar. Megiddo will be far worse.”
“True enough,” acknowledged the monsignor. “We shall see.”
Cloe could see her friend’s heart was heavy as he considered his responsibilities. This man was the Church’s best hope to lead it into battle against its ancient enemy. Cloe’s money was on the monsignor.
“Albert, the prophecy in the journal says that good will follow the seven. We know who the seven are, and we have them. Good will follow us.”
“True and useful,” he responded. “It also says that we should rely on the innocent.”
“Yes, an innocent will arise, and the evil one will be cast into the abyss,” added Cloe.
“Quite so,” he agreed. “That’s the part I’m uncomfortable with. I don’t view myself as an innocent.”
***
The helicopters flew steadily across the rough terrain toward Megiddo and whatever destiny awaited them. Cloe thought she had been here before. She remembered flying to the Church of St. Irenaeus and later flying to Masada where, in each place, she and her colleagues were to confront terrible evil. Each time, they had been successful, not because of their planning but because of the grace of God. Yet they had faced nothing like Icar, the beast. She knew this would be their greatest challenge, and she was mortally afraid. She poured out her heart in prayer for God to give her strength.
“Captain Jacob, do your people have any kind of intel for us on Megiddo? Do they have spies or satellite information that can tell us what’s happening there?” asked Cloe.
“Our satellite links are down for some reason,” said the young officer. “Our on-the-ground intel tells us large numbers of armed people are gathering near Megiddo. There are hundreds of thousands, maybe many more spoiling for a fight.”
“Who are they?” asked Cloe. “How did they know to go there?”
“As best we can tell, most of them are Icar’s legions. Some are not,” said Jacob. “Our people tell us many opposed to Icar simply followed his soldiers.”
Cloe thought of Valent and the Knights of Malta who saved them when they broke the monsignor out of prison. Could they be at Megiddo? It wouldn’t surprise her at all.
She turned to the monsignor as he said, “I suspect we will see some of our friends from Malta. There are many groups like that throughout the world. We could do a lot worse than to have them fighting with us.”
“Ariel, is there any news as to what’s going on beyond Megiddo?” asked J.E.
“Some say the earth’s population has been reduced by 25 percent. In places with poor health care or weak governments, anarchy reigns.”
“Blast it!” said Cloe. “Has anything changed in the States?”
“Yes, it seems the worm has turned in Washington,” said the Israeli. “The fact is the president has resigned in disgrace and the new vice president has been sworn in as president. Congress has
aligned behind the new leader. The US is gathering a great fleet of ships for humanitarian purposes. This will bring aid and medicine. But unless we are successful, the US effort will be too late.”
“Can we expect military help from them?” asked the curator.
“There may be some isolated help from bases not fully evacuated but not much,” said Jacob.
“Okay, we’re going to have to do this ourselves,” said Cloe.
“The full might of the Israeli forces is behind you,” said Jacob. “We also have some Arab countries and what’s left of the Europeans. As you have said, there may also be the knights. Some have been deploying for days, and some are on the way. Word has it a group from Malta is there or nearby.”
“I can’t think of anybody I’d rather have on my side,” said Cloe.
“Dr. Lejeune, come look!” cried Sky. “There’s something you must see.”
Cloe crawled toward the front of the helicopter and looked out the windscreen. She thought it looked like some kind of enormous dark tower in the distance.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Sky as they came closer. “I can’t see any movement. It looks like a stationary sandstorm thousands of feet high.”
Cloe saw the black wall-like apparition churning in place. It did look like a sandstorm, but it was not dashing across the desert, as it should have been—it was standing still. It constantly mixed and folded in on itself. She could not tell how thick it was or whether it was safe to fly through.
“Sky, can we get through it?” she asked.
“I can’t take us into that,” he responded. “I don’t know if it’s a yard thick or a mile. There’s a lot of sand in it, and my engines don’t breathe sand. We’ve got to land. Megiddo is only about two thousand meters from here. We can walk in.”
“This is the work of Icar,” said the monsignor. “For some reason, he wants us on foot.”
Captain Jacob turned back to them and said, “My people tell me some of their airborne units have tried to penetrate the wall.”
“Yes?” asked Cloe.
“They are gone. We have lost contact with them completely,” he replied. “It’s like your Bermuda Triangle. They are just gone.”
“Okay, Sky. Put us down,” said Cloe. “We’re gonna need a different approach.”
Bully growled.
Robby shivered and said, “The bad man is in there, Dr. Cloe. He’s calling us.”
CHAPTER
84
Icar surveyed the surrounding area, a young woman at his side. The sandstorm wall encircled the entirety of Megiddo, as he knew it would. In many ways, it reminded him of Roman siege walls back in the day. He smiled slightly as he thought of some of those battles. Masada was one of his favorites. It had taken the Romans three years to break the Sicarii there. Even then, there was no real victory, as the Jews took their own lives rather than submit to the Romans.
Turning, he saw Michael and the leader of his shock troops.
“You were weak,” Icar said to the redheaded man. “They were trapped in the hangar, and you let them get away.”
“Sir, the Israeli jets above us made it impossible for us to hit our targets,” said the man with the long, fiery beard. “I lost half of my men.”
“Why not destroy the hangar?” replied Icar.
“We had only small arms, sir.”
“All you had to do was wire the place with explosives!” Icar shrieked.
The man was quiet and then said, “We rushed the job. We should have wired the building with explosives.”
“That’s right,” said Icar. “This battle would have been won.”
“We can still stop them,” said the redheaded man.
“I wonder,” said Icar. “When I drop the sandstorm curtain around Megiddo, the final battle will be joined. I want them dead before that.”
“It will be as you say.”
“Go then, and cement your place in hell!” said Icar, voice rising. “Kill them and bring me their heads. Your modern weapons are no good inside the wall. Prepare yourself for hand-to-hand battle!”
The redheaded giant smiled. He threw his rifle and handgun down and drew a wicked-looking machete from a holster on his backpack.
His remaining eight men did likewise.
As the mercenaries trotted toward the wall near where Cloe’s helicopters had landed, Icar laughed with derision as he considered the prospect that the cursed doctor and her force, largely consisting of old men, women, and children, could possibly prevail against these killers. He certainly would not let the Swiss soldiers through the wall. Michael had told him that J.E.’s military genius had beaten the Karik’s vastly superior force at Masada. That, and the devil priest, the monsignor. Indeed, J.E. had laid the Claymore that had burned Michael so badly. Now, he and the others would get theirs. He had lured them to the trap.
Icar grinned at the human notion that it was better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. And God himself had wanted him to bow down before these idiots! Soon, they would all bow to him.
Icar glanced to his right and smiled at the young woman. She had been invaluable with her information, but there could be only one ruler in hell. She and Michael would have to learn that lesson.
CHAPTER
85
Both helicopters landed, and Cloe and her crew hunkered down in front of the lead helicopter near the wall of howling sand.
“The helicopters can’t go any farther,” said Cloe. “We need intel on how to get through the curtain.”
“Dr. Cloe, we can walk through,” said Robby.
“Robby, I know you mean well, but all manner of soldiers, tanks, and planes have tried to penetrate the barrier and have failed,” responded Cloe. “A person couldn’t simply walk through.”
Robby looked at Cloe, hurt in his eyes, and then turned and ran for the wall.
“Robby!” screamed Cloe.
“Come back!” yelled J.E.
Robby ran, and Bully followed, Robby with his head start and little-boy steps and Bully quickly catching up on his great muscular legs and shoulders, powering across the gap to the wall.
They hit the wall at full speed and simply went in. Absorbed. Cloe had half-expected them to bounce off some impenetrable, hard surface, but it was as if they had passed through some living membrane.
Cloe ran and stopped at the wall’s edge.
“Robby!” she screamed, but there was no answer. They were gone. Over and over she called out his name.
J.E. came to her and wrapped his arms around her. The monsignor, the seven, the Swiss, and the others gathered around.
Cloe looked at them and said, “If we believe in what we’re doing, we’re going through this barrier. We will find Robby.”
“The lead helicopter pilot just told me that a young man went through the barrier a few minutes ago,” said the monsignor. “Just like Robby and Bully did. He was one of the knights from Malta.”
“Who?” asked Cloe.
“The pilot did not know, but he watched him remove all his weapons, except his knife, and then he just went in,” the monsignor replied.
“That must be the key,” shouted Cloe over the noise of the blowing sand.
J.E. turned and told everyone to gather their gear but strip away all modern weapons of any kind.
When everyone had done so and returned, Cloe drew her .45 sidearm and stood in front of the group. She threw it in the sand, took off the holster, and started toward the wall. The monsignor, armed with the sword and spear of St. Michael, followed behind her.
The monsignor, J.E., and Zack joined Cloe at the front of the group.
Zack cried out, “For Robby!”
Cloe ran for the wall and hit it at full speed. She expected to be flattened by the crash, but she passed
through and fell head over heels on the other side.
Dazed, she looked around and saw the monsignor, J.E., Zack and his friends, and the old curator. None of the Swiss had come through, and Captain Jacob was nowhere in sight. Cloe wondered if they might have passed through at some other place or if they could not quite bring themselves to dispose of all modern ordnance.
Cloe stood. “Where are the others?”
“This seems to be it,” said J.E.
“How could some of us get through but not others?” asked the curator.
“It seems the people Icar either wants to confront or from whom he feels no threat have been admitted. Otherwise, our fighting men have mainly been rejected,” said the monsignor. “We are on our own.”
“Where’s Robby?” asked Zack.
Cloe looked around at the smoky, dark landscape but could not see the boy or the dog.
“I don’t know, but he couldn’t be far ahead of us,” she replied.
“We’ll head toward Megiddo. We will find them.”
The small troop gathered themselves and began to walk toward the mount on which what was left of Megiddo was located. The terrain was very rough with jagged boulders and fractured shale. The smoky atmosphere limited visibility, and Cloe wondered if this was the “fog of war” she had heard so much about. The sun was not visible, just varying degrees of gray.
When they had gone perhaps a thousand meters toward Megiddo, the ground began to rise slightly. Cloe heard a dog bark in the distance—it was Bully.
“Hurry!” she said. “They can’t be far now.”
She ran forward and suddenly stopped. The others caught up and stood confronting a phalanx of mercenaries. The men were dressed in military fatigues with desert camo colors and high-top leather boots. They were hard men and bore visible scars likely from other battles. They were obviously fighting men who were there to stop them from finding Icar. They also stood between them and Robby.
J.E., the monsignor, and Zack came abreast of her, and they all stared at the opposing force. Louie and Rey joined the front line. Cloe looked around and saw the courage in their eyes—but they were mainly amateurs against obvious professionals.
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