Battle Sky (The Battle Series, Book 4)

by Mark Romang

  Banks lifted his head toward the ceiling. Lord, I did what you wanted me to do. I brought down the drones. And this cell is what I got for my trouble. Please have mercy on me. I don’t want to be in this cell when you return to Earth. I want to see you descend through the clouds in your glory. Remember me here in this prison. I am your servant.

  Chapter 5

  Olympic Peninsula

  “We’ve been over this before, Tanner. Why do we have to continue this discussion?”

  Tanner lifted his head from his tattered spiral notebook and looked over at his twin brother. “Because all of a sudden I’m getting a bad vibe. I don’t think this bunker is safe anymore.”

  “You’re just freaked out by the demons, Tanner. We’ve survived over three years here in this mine with only a few incidences. The Tribulation is bearing down on the seven-year mark. We can make it to the end here,” C.J. said determinedly.

  Tanner turned to his older sister. Brooke lounged in an Adirondack chair. She looked lost in her thoughts, and pensively twirled a handful of her long dark hair with one hand. “What do you think, Sis? Should we stay or should we go?”

  Brooke shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Where would we go if we do leave?”

  “I don’t have a specific place in mind. But I do know the sixth trumpet judgement killed a staggering amount of people. The world has emptied out, leaving behind all sorts of vacated properties. We could even hole up in a town, maybe even Seattle or Tacoma if we could find a way across the Puget Sound.”

  “I think I side with C.J. on this. We should just ride it out here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Brooke nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, the majority have spoken. We stay put.” Tanner shifted his gaze to a propane cylinder sitting on the ground a few feet away. “You think there is any gas in the cylinder, C.J.?”

  C.J. walked over and rapped on the cylinder. “Sounds pretty empty to me. But there might be some fumes left. Are you thinking about broadcasting?”

  Tanner nodded solemnly. “One last broadcast before the end.”

  C.J. smiled. His teeth flashed underneath his heavy mustache and beard. “I’ll open the cylinder if you’re ready.”

  “Give me just a sec to prepare.” Tanner looked over his notes a final time. He scratched out a few lines with a pen, said a silent prayer to God, and then flashed C.J. the A-OK sign.

  C.J. twisted the knob, opening the cylinder. The small generator hooked to the propane cylinder hummed to life. Tanner reached up and depressed the power button on a HAM radio resting on a storage shelf. The generator supplied power to the radio and it turned on. All sorts of red and green lights twinkled to life.

  Tanner adjusted the HAM radio to a channel he’d yet to use. And then he grabbed the CB radio and held it up close to his mouth. “To all the people of earth who haven’t taken the mark of the beast—Henrik Skymolt’s GPS tracking chip, and to all the Christ followers who are being systematically hunted down and executed. Take comfort in these words:

  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

  “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

  “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

  “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

  “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

  “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for you reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

  “These words I just spoke are the Beatitudes Jesus taught to his disciples long ago on a mountainside. But these words also apply to Christ followers today, who are living in this terrible time called the Tribulation.”

  Tanner glanced nervously at the HAM radio. He expected it to go dark at any moment. The threat of the radio dying urged him to not waste time and get to the point.

  “I have made several of these broadcasts over the last three years or so. And it recently occurred to me that I have never actually stated what I believe. I’m going to address this misstep right now.

  “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth.

  “I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.

  “He descended to the dead. On the third day He rose again. He ascended into heaven, he is seated at the right hand of the Father, and he will come to judge the living and the dead.

  “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”

  Tanner paused for just a moment to catch his breath. His heart raced like an Indy car. I might actually get through this, he thought, casting a sideways glance at the glowing radio lights.

  “So if your strength is waning, muster up your courage, don’t let hunger or hardships dim your joy or weaken your resolve. You’ve almost made it to the end. Christ will soon return and establish his earthly kingdom. And on that day your oppression will end. Henrik Skymolt and Vito Abbadelli, his false prophet, will be thrown into the lake of fire. The flames will sear them forever, charring their flesh like chickens cooking on a rotisserie.

  “This is my last broadcast. You won’t hear from me again. But maybe we’ll meet up on the great day of the Lord. So until then, this is Tanner Mason, the voice of the resistance.”

  Tanner set the CB radio down. And no sooner had he done it when the red and green lights on the HAM radio went dark. He smiled. “Well, that was a ‘God thing.’ I had just enough propane to broadcast the last message.” He looked at Tanner and Brooke. They wore concerned looks. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “You stated your name when you signed off. You used to always say, ‘This is Extreme Snowboarder One,’ when you signed off.”

  Tanner shrugged. “Oh well, you can’t be a change agent if you’re hunkered down in a bunker. This late in the game it might be time to go bold.”

  Brooke shook her head in disbelief. “You really do want to leave this bunker, don’t you, Tanner? If that signal was intercepted they’ll know who to come for.”

  “That’s not going to happen. We should’ve been found out long ago. And we haven’t. So apparently no one can track our signal.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Brooke said.

  “Me too,” C.J. echoed.

  Tanner flashed his brother and sister his most reassuring smile. “No matter what happens, God is holding us in his arms. We’re his sheep. And no one can pluck us out of the good shepherd’s arms.”

  Chapter 6

  UWC Data Center

  Bluffdale, Utah—that same moment

  Situated between the Wasatch and Oquirrh mountain ranges on a barren stretch of land found within what was once Camp Williams National Guard Base, the long, squat building complex making up the UWC Data Center covered 1.5 million square feet. Cray XC30 Supercomputers filled the data halls inside the four-billion-dollar facility that linked up with other similar facilities across the former United States.

  These facilities were NSA facilities before and shortly after the Rapture. But then they were renamed at Henrik Skymolt’s request. Their mission statement remained the same however. And many of the same NSA employees still worked at the renamed data collection centers.

  Over one million processors powered the supercomputers inside this particular facility in Utah, and they were capable of ten thousand trillion calculations per second.

  Employees with h
igh-clearance security badges draped around their necks buzzed around inside the secretive building like worker bees. Technicians made sure the supercomputers ran optimally at the correct temperature, while analysts tirelessly examined e-mails, banking and online purchases and social media posts, and listened in on cell phone conversations and other electronic transmissions, including radio signals.

  Kevin Joyner sat at his work station and tried desperately to stay awake. SIGINT—signal intelligence—wasn’t nearly as sexy and as exciting work as Hollywood movies portrayed it to be. In fact, most of the time signal intelligence gathering was downright boring, like right now.

  Joyner stared at his monitor with glassy eyes. He looked dully at the time at the bottom of the monitor screen. In a little less than two hours his shift would mercifully end and he could leave.

  Joyner yawned. I really don’t know if I can make it, he thought. He’d just taken his last break. And the afternoon coffee he’d slugged down hadn’t kicked in yet.

  Joyner rolled his shoulders, backwards and then forwards. He looked away from his monitor and turned his head to either side, cracking his neck. But the neck adjustment only relaxed him further.

  Desperate to wake up, Joyner popped some hard candy into his mouth. He even grabbed his earlobes and pulled down sharply to induce pain, a technique he only used when really drowsy.

  When he finally turned back to look at his monitor his eyes opened wide. He saw a red bar pulsating across his monitor screen.

  Instantly he perked up. A message within the red bar stated a suspicious radio signal had been intercepted. Joyner put his headphones on and clicked the red bar on the screen. The radio signal replayed. The signal was exceptionally strong and lasted one minute and thirty-one seconds. And better yet, the crazy fool said his name, a name that was already on their rebel watch list.

  Joyner opened up a program on his desktop computer that utilized the facility’s ultra-sophisticated and ultra-expensive spectrum analyzers. He sipped on a cup of tepid coffee as he waited impatiently for results to come in. The spectrum analyzers were connected to directional antennas and would use a triangulation method to accurately pinpoint the radio signal.

  Joyner drummed his fingers on his desk. He suddenly felt wide awake. All he needed was a little excitement. And now he had it.

  Coordinates suddenly popped up on the screen. “Bingo!” Joyner said triumphantly, raising his arms like a ref signaling a touchdown. Other sleepy-eyed technicians and analysts nearby peered over and around his cubicle walls at his exclamation. He didn’t care. Instead he scrawled the name of the rebel and his coordinates on a sticky note and then snapped up his phone to call his boss.

  Joyner put the phone down as fast as he picked it up. This info was too juicy to say over the phone, and he wanted to see the look on his boss’ face when shown the sticky note.

  The sticky note clinging to his fingers, Joyner jumped up from his ergonomically correct yet incredibly uncomfortable office chair and hustled through a phalanx of analysts, down a long hallway and into a cavernous room filled with cubicles. He wound his way through the maze of plastic walls and up to his boss’ cubicle. He knocked on the partition. His boss, Karl Brody, peered up at him.

  “You look excited, Kevin. Is there something you need to tell me?”

  Joyner couldn’t help it. He smiled like a kid eating ice cream. “I intercepted a radio signal from a rebel on our watch list. I got his coordinates right here,” he said, and handed his boss the sticky note.

  Brody took the small, sticky rectangle of paper and read what Joyner had scrawled on it. He looked up at Joyner with deep-set eyes. “Good job, Kevin. I’ll call the UWC police department nearest to this location and inform them of your discovery. With any luck they can apprehend this rebel, this…Tanner Mason.”

  Chapter 7

  Babylon—the next day

  Inside the conference room and sitting around a giant, oval table made of polished ebony, the senior managers on Henrik Skymolt’s staff gave him their rapt attention. Vito Abbadelli sat nearest to Skymolt. Bald and chubby and wearing burgundy vestments, Abbadelli looked a bit like Friar Tuck.

  Sitting tall at the head of the table, Skymolt’s hands formed a steeple as he talked. He spoke in a somber tone, genuine sadness coating every word. The city he rebuilt, the magnificent Babylon would soon collapse into a pile of rubble. And he could do nothing about it.

  Abbadelli jumped in with a question as soon as Skymolt paused between sentences. “My Lord, are you sure we need to relocate?”

  Skymolt nodded. “This city will come under siege. Babylon will soon plunge into complete darkness. We will need to move our operations to Tel Aviv.”

  “My Lord, who would be foolish enough to attack Babylon? You are the Lord of the universe, and you live here. All the intelligence I have does not suggest we will be attacked,” General Peter Krajak said.

  Skymolt turned to Krajak. The South African commanded his UWC military force. “General Krajak, my intelligence is far superior to the intelligence your people have gathered. And your lack of trust in my omniscience disappoints me. I demand complete obedience. You must have faith in my wisdom. A swift execution awaits anyone who commits insubordination against me.”

  General Krajak turned pale. “You have my allegiance completely, my Lord. But if you tell me who the enemy is, and how they will attack Babylon, perhaps I can align my troops to repel the invaders. I can also pull several divisions from the Megiddo plain to guard the city’s power plant and substations.”

  Skymolt sighed. He could not tell the truth for various reasons. The number one reason was because there was no truth inside him. And the number two reason, the fifth bowl judgement on Babylon would come from God, not a human enemy. And these fools thought he was God. Vito Abbadelli was doing a masterful job at leading the worship of him, so much so that most of the world had no clue he was really the Prince of Darkness. “That won’t be necessary, General. Let the enemy take Babylon. It will soon be worthless. A massive earthquake is about to shake it into ruin.”

  Vito Abbadelli offered his insight. “Let the vile Jews take Babylon. We’ll take Jerusalem from them. An even finer prize.”

  Skymolt nodded. “Yes, Reverend. We will take Jerusalem. And then I will rule from there, from the temple.”

  Claudia Seever, Skymolt’s press secretary asked, “My Lord, when do we leave for Tel Aviv? And are we going to evacuate Babylon residents to somewhere safe before the earthquake hits? If we are, I need to issue a press release to inform the citizens what to do.”

  Skymolt shook his head. “A mandatory evacuation will be difficult to pull off. The darkness will make it impossible. They are on their own.” Skymolt stood up and towered above them. “We leave for Tel Aviv now. A jet is fueled and awaiting us at the airport. Let’s go.”

  Skymolt watched his staff grab their phones, laptops, purses and other personal belongings and leave the table. Just as they began to file out, Zarkien appeared, filling up the doorway. Skymolt’s staff walked obliviously right through the powerful demon as if he were only a hologram.

  Zarkien didn’t bother to step around the enormous table to join Skymolt. He simply stalked right through it and performed his mandatory bow. “Master, I have excellent news.”

  “Excellent news, huh? Do tell.”

  “The data center in Utah has intercepted a radio signal belonging to Tanner Mason. Analysts there have pinpointed the signal’s location to a remote and mountainous area on the Olympic Peninsula. UWC SWAT teams are assembling and will soon be ferried by helicopters to the area. It’s only a matter of time before Tanner Mason is arrested and executed for all the world to see.”

  “You have upped your performance substantially, Zarkien. Many have come before you and achieved some successes, but they all eventually disappointed me. You appear to be different. Perhaps I have finally found a general I can count on.”

  Zarkien brushed off the rare compliment. “Since Tanner Mason is about
to be apprehended, do you still wish the Legion to try to possess him?”

  “I do not want to take anything for granted. So I’m giving the Legion one more chance.”

  “And what if they fail?”

  “Then perhaps they will have better luck with Tanner’s siblings.”

  Zarkien nodded approvingly. “One of them will eventually fall. C.J has the weakest faith of the three. And he’s prone to act impulsively. Perhaps the pathway to Tanner is through his brother.”

  Skymolt smiled cruelly. “Like me, you have a devious mind, Zarkien. I see I have mentored you well. You have learned that deception and trickery are paramount in trapping humans.”

  “Master, you once told me subverting the truth is the easiest way to destroy humans. I tested your theory and found it quite effective. I discovered that once you pervert a person’s morals and corrupt their foundation of faith, they are putty in our hands.”

  Skymolt patted the big demon on the shoulder. “You must go now, Zarkien. I am getting ready to fly with my staff to Tel Aviv. That’s where I will base my operations from now on. You will continue to report developments to me there. There is no need to ever come back here. Babylon is about to fall.”

  Zarkien nodded. “Understood, Master.” He bunched his massive wings and flew straight up through the ceiling tiles, disappearing in an instant.

  Skymolt closed the conference door behind him, symbolically closing the door on Babylon’s startling rise to world power. A shame, he thought bitterly. I loved it here in my unholy city.

  Chapter 8

  Heaven

  Sara Maddix smiled as she brushed the flowing mane of a pure white stallion. She certainly enjoyed her heavenly responsibilities, and never grew bored or weary when performing her work. Contentment followed her around in Heaven like an unshakable shadow.