by Mark Romang
“If that’s the case, then there could be 200 million demons gathered on the ridge by the time it’s all said and done.”
“Are we getting any reinforcements?” Maddix asked his CO.
Michael looked at him with fierce blue eyes. “They are already on their way. But I instructed them to not come through the air, but to come through the Kidron Valley and use Hezekiah’s tunnel once they reach the Old City.”
“Wise call, Michael,” Maddix said. He shifted his gaze off the demons and onto the large crowd congregating in the Mount of Olives cemetery. Maddix had a feeling these people were rebels, believers anxiously awaiting Christ’s return, as well as the return to Earth of their departed loved ones.
Maddix also noted that within the crowd were hundreds if not thousands of Ultra-Orthodox Jews moving through the cemetery, some more surreptitiously than others. These men appeared to be from the Hasidim community. They all wore their customary dress of black pants, white shirts, long black jackets and tall, fur-lined hats. The Ultra-Orthodox Jews were still waiting patiently for their Messiah to come, and didn’t believe Jesus was the Son of God.
The fact that these men wore their traditional dress made Maddix think they still held fast to their Judaism beliefs. So it was likely they hadn’t taken the Antichrist’s mark on their foreheads or wrist. If this was true, Maddix wondered if these Jews would be given a chance to receive salvation when Christ returns to Earth to set up his Millennial kingdom. Maybe then they would finally believe Jesus was the Son of God.
Looking at the Orthodox Jews in their black and white getup gave him an idea. “Michael, I have a thought, a subterfuge if you will, that may help our attack.”
“I’m listening, Andrew.”
Maddix told him his plan. And when he finished, Michael nodded in agreement. “That is a workable battle plan. I like it.”
Coleton Webb slapped Maddix on the back. “I like it too, Mad Dog. A battle plan should always have an element of surprise to it.”
“We’ll have to tweak it a bit, but it shouldn’t take much,” Vallen added.
Maddix caught a reflection in his eyes. He looked in the direction of the flash and saw Eleazar sitting on the steps to the church. The expert swordfighter was sharpening his sword with meticulous care. “Michael, can you excuse me for a moment. I need to have a word with Eleazar.”
“Speak your peace, Andrew. We have time.”
Maddix walked over to Eleazar and sat down next to him. “Friend, can I talk with you for a moment?”
“Why sure, Andrew. I love conversation almost as much as eviscerating a demon.”
Maddix grinned. He was fond of Eleazar, but steered clear of him on the battlefield. The swordfighter was a holy terror in battle. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Eleazar. Actually, I’m asking for a favor.”
Eleazar tested his sword edge with his thumb. “You’re a man of courage and integrity, Andrew. I will do whatever you ask.”
Maddix nodded. “It would please me if you take Spencer aside and show him some of your sword fighting techniques.”
Eleazar tugged at his heavy beard. “Spencer is an immortal just like you and I. Even if he is grievously wounded he cannot die.”
“But if he drops his bow, or if a demon snatches it from his hands, he will be helpless. He must be able to swing a blade.”
Eleazar grinned. His dark eyes twinkled. “But why me, Andrew? You are proficient with a blade. And you are Spencer’s father.”
“Without the Holy Spirit giving me strength, and without the Eden sword igniting into flames when I need it to, I am nothing.”
“You underestimate your abilities, Andrew. And you overestimate mine. I have no special skills that set me apart. I simply smother my opponent. I always keep them on the defensive. I never give them a chance to mount an attack. And with the Lord as my helper, I refuse to back down.”
“So will you work with Spencer?”
“There isn’t much time, but I can show him a few things,” Eleazar said. “But if a demon should get so close as to snatch Spencer’s bow, a broadsword will do him no good. So may I suggest a dagger instead, or perhaps two daggers. They would be more useful at such a close range. And I can rig up a harness with scabbards that will allow for quick access.”
Maddix nodded. “Whatever you think, Eleazar.” He stood up. “Take Spencer inside the church for the lesson. I don’t want the demons to witness what you’re doing.”
Eleazar rose up. He winked at Maddix. “I’ll get right on it.”
“You’ll find Spencer in the garden. He’s with Samson and Mithellius.”
Eleazar sheathed his sword. “I’ll find him. Don’t you worry.”
Chapter 42
Tacoma, Washington—1PM
Greyhound bus station
Having already purchased his one-way ticket to Eugene, Oregon, Special Agent Nick Loomis handed the woman behind the counter his suitcase. The woman attached a tag to the suitcase handle with speed and efficiency and turned to place the luggage on a conveyor behind her.
“Wait a second, Miss,” Loomis said urgently. “I need to place something inside the bag. Can I have it back?”
The middle-aged woman glared at him with tired eyes. “There are people behind you, sir. I need to keep the line moving.”
Loomis glanced over his shoulders. Two people stood behind him. “I promise it will only take me a second.”
The woman sighed heavily, and then grunted, “Make it snappy.” She handed Loomis the suitcase. He took the luggage and knelt down on the floor. Loomis hurriedly unlocked the suitcase and unzipped it. He pulled off the locket containing his Skymolt chip from around his neck and stuffed it into the suitcase. He quickly re-zipped and locked the suitcase.
Loomis raised up and handed the woman his luggage once more. Smiling, he said, “Thank-you, I appreciate it.”
The woman slung the suitcase onto the conveyor, and then slid Loomis a packet containing his bus ticket and receipt. He winked at her and took the packet. “Thanks again,” he said, and left the counter. Loomis glanced at his watch. He still had twenty minutes to go before his bus left for the six-hour trip to Eugene, Oregon.
But he had no intention of getting on the bus.
His suitcase was the only thing traveling to Eugene. He was headed back to Seattle.
Take your chip and shove it, Skymolt.
Loomis entered a men’s room not far from the ticket counter and walked up to a sink. He felt like splashing his face with cold water. He waved his hand under the faucet. But nothing came out. New water treatment plants were slowly springing up to filtrate water from contaminated water sources, but potable water remained strictly rationed. Sometimes days went by without treated water flowing through pipes.
Loomis straightened up and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
His haggard reflection smiled.
Loomis felt liberated without that RFID chip hanging around his neck. No more straddling the fence. No more pretending. And no more denying Jesus.
I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner, Lord.
A man left a urinal and walked up to the faucet next to Loomis “Is there any water?”
Loomis cast a sideways glance at to the man. The man looked about the same age as him, but dressed nicer. He wore a business suit, and his muscular frame appeared ill at ease in the suit. “No water today,” Loomis said.
“Figures,” the man grunted and left the room.
Loomis loitered at the sink for another minute. He went over his plan in his head, a hair-brained plot that didn’t include working for the GIS or apprehending Nathan Banks. Deep down he knew the audacious plan couldn’t possibly work. But this close to the end, what did it matter? I might as well go out in spectacular fashion.
Rescuing Tanner Mason from an execution squad would likely fail and result in his own execution. But so what? The kid needs help. And dying for a worthy cause is a glorious way to enter the hereafter.
Loomis turned
away from his reflection and left the men’s room. Out in the station lobby he saw the man in the fancy suit sitting on a bench and reading a book. Loomis walked behind the man and left the bus station.
Outside, he suddenly felt paranoid. He looked around for security cameras and did his best to avoid them, taking a roundabout way to his car parked three blocks away.
Loomis walked down a street adjacent to the one where his car sat waiting. He walked two blocks farther east than he needed to, backtracked and entered a clothing store, pretending to shop while monitoring the street outside. Loomis casually removed his cellphone from his pocket. He pretended to sift through a stack of jeans. And while he pretended to search for his size, shoved his cellphone into a gap between two pairs of jeans.
It wasn’t an easy thing to do, giving up his phone. He was so addicted to the device. But the phone could be tracked as easily as the Skymolt marking chip. He had no choice but to ditch it.
He finally left the store and cut through two alleyways. Loomis switched directions multiple times, all the while keeping his head on a swivel, on the lookout for a tail. The man reading the book at the bus station rankled him. Something about the well-heeled man caused suspicion to well up inside Loomis. The man had looked like a Fed. Loomis could spot a Fed a mile away. He knew because he used to be one.
But after not spotting the man, or anything else suspicious, Loomis finally climbed into his Ford and started it. He took a deep breath and put his car in gear. And with his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel, Loomis headed north.
Back to Seattle.
Chapter 43
Downtown Seattle—UWC West Precinct Jail
That same moment
Ketchup and mustard smeared the prisoner’s mouth. He ate like a starving animal and gulped his food. “How come you didn’t get a last meal, Tanner? Everyone on death row is supposed to get a meal with all the fixings the day before they’re executed,” he said, before taking another large bite of cheeseburger.
Sitting on a hard cot, Tanner looked at his cellmate and shrugged. “They asked me what I wanted, but I declined.”
“Your loss, Tanner. I haven’t eaten this good in a long time. I did ask for steak though. And they gave me a cheeseburger and fries instead.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t get the steak because they didn’t want you to have any utensils.”
“Yeah, they’re afraid I might stab you.”
Tanner nodded. “And if that happens they might not get a chance to execute me.”
“I wouldn’t really stab you. You know that, right?”
Tanner nodded. “You don’t seem like the killing type. What got you in here, anyway?”
“Nothing, really. I defaced a Henrik Skymolt statue. I spray-painted it red and stuck some yellow horns on Skymolt’s head. It didn’t go over well with the UWC goons. They don’t have much of a sense of humor.”
“Performing vandalism on a Skymolt statue can get you in a lot of trouble,” Tanner said.
“The worst part was my whole act was caught on a security camera. I guess I’m not the smartest graffiti artist around. I’m probably more like the dumbest.”
Tanner smiled. His cellmate was growing on him. Landon was a likable sort, funny and entertaining. But Tanner didn’t see a believer’s mark on Landon. And he felt dread for his future. “Have you taken Skymolt’s chip, Landon?”
Landon stopped in mid-bite. “Would I be in here behind bars if I had?”
“Good, then there is still hope for you.”
“Hope? Man, I lost all hope long ago.”
“What if I said you can have hope and a future?”
“I’d say you’re crazy—a certifiable loon.”
“I’m not a loon, Landon. Tomorrow you can be with me in paradise. You’ll never hunger or thirst again. All you have to do is confess to God that you’re a sinner and believe that Jesus is Lord. You do that and you’ll enter Heaven as soon as they lop off your head tomorrow.”
Landon put down his half-eaten cheeseburger. “You really know how to kill someone’s appetite, Tanner.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your last meal. But there’s more important things to deal with than your stomach. Your soul is at stake.”
“You’re a Jesus freak, aren’t you, Tanner?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m a freak. But Jesus is my best friend. And I’d like to introduce you to him.”
“Did God really send all these judgements on the world these last seven years,” Landon asked.
Tanner nodded.
Landon picked his cheeseburger back up. “Then I don’t want anything to do with God.”
“But God loves you, Landon. He loves everyone and wants to give eternal life to everyone. He sent these terrible judgements to shake up the world, and to bring people back to Him.”
“God has a funny way of showing me love. I’m sitting in a jail, and I’m going to be executed tomorrow.”
“God showed you everlasting love when he sent Jesus to die on the cross for your sins. Look, don’t fear what men can do to us. Don’t fear the executioner’s axe. Fear God. The UWC has no power over our souls. But God does. Give your soul to God. Accept his pardon before it’s too late.”
Landon looked down at the concrete floor. Tanner didn’t wait for him to respond. “Tomorrow we will be executed. And the instant our souls leave our bodies we will either go to Heaven or Hell. Do you know for sure which place your soul will travel to?”
Landon looked up at him; his brown eyes became moist. “I’d be a fool to go to hell when I don’t have to.”
Tanner rose up and walked over to Landon’s cot. He sat down next to his cellmate. “Anyone would be a fool to turn down eternal life in Heaven. It’s a no-brainer.”
“I just say a prayer and ask for forgiveness?”
“It’s as easy as ABC—admit, believe, and confess. Admit that you’ve sinned against God. Believe that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, and that he rose to life. And confess that Jesus is Lord.”
Landon bowed his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “God, you know I’ve always believed that you exist. My mama took me to church a lot when I was little. I learned about you in Sunday School. But I’ve done a lot of bad things. I’ve wasted my life. I’ve used drugs and sold drugs. People are addicts because of me. Please forgive my sins. I believe Jesus died on the cross. And I believe he didn’t stay dead. I want to live in paradise with you and Jesus, the angels and the saints, and my new friend Tanner. Amen.”
Landon opened his eyes. He looked at Tanner. “Is that it?” he asked, his voice quivering.
“Almost. Your prayer was awesome. But now you need to confess that Jesus is Lord. You can say it to me, or wait for a guard to come.”
“Jesus is Lord, Tanner. He’s the king of the universe. He’s the only God there is,” Landon blurted out.
Tanner smiled. Although his nightmarish circumstances were beyond dire, his spirit suddenly soared just like it did whenever he performed aerials on his snowboard. “Let me be the first to welcome you into the Kingdom of Christ, Landon. The Holy Spirit of God lives inside you now. And right now there are angels in Heaven celebrating your victory over death.”
“I should’ve done that a long time ago. I don’t know why I waited. I guess I’m just stubborn.”
“That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you surrendered.”
Landon wiped at his eyes. “But I have to be honest with you, Tanner. I’m still scared about tomorrow. I’ve been thinking all day of the executioner and his axe. I’m sure it will only hurt for a second, but it’s going to be awful.”
Tanner put an arm around his cellmate. “I know. I’m scared too. But we can’t dwell on tomorrow. We have to keep our focus on God. Think of how awesome it will be to see Jesus face to face. Think of how amazing it will be to walk on streets of gold, and to eat fruit from the Tree of Life, and to drink living water from the River of Life. Think of those thing
s.”
“Man, I’m glad they put me in here with you. I probably wouldn’t have said that prayer if you hadn’t persuaded me to.”
Tanner smiled. “It was divine intervention. Had to have been.”
“Now that I know for sure where I’m going when I die, I hope I’m one of the first they execute. I want to get to Heaven, and I don’t want to have to watch a bunch of people get beheaded first.”
“I’m hoping and praying Jesus will come back before the executioner has a chance to swing his axe tomorrow.”
“That would be sweet.” Landon lifted up his plate of fries. “Have some french-fries, Tanner. I know you’re hungry. I’ve heard your stomach growling for the past hour.”
Tanner looked at the fries hungrily. “I think I’ll take you up on that,” he said, and grabbed a handful. He was sure it was the last food he would eat before leaving this world.
Chapter 44
Downtown Seattle—in the storm drains
That same moment
Like a coal miner traveling through a dangerous mineshaft, Nathan Banks led his three friends deeper into the bowels of Seattle. They kept at it, moving steadily if not methodically through a dungeon-like world.
A world where humans shouldn’t tread, let alone live.
Banks rarely stopped. When he did stop it was only to shine his headlamp onto his schematic and reconcile their position. It would be easy to get lost in this confusing labyrinth of concrete tunnels. Each turn looked like the turn before it.
They could wander for hours.
Become claustrophobic.
Pass out from hunger-spawned weakness and water deprivation.
Lose their minds.
Seeing the stains from past water levels on the walls parallel to them certainly tugged at Banks’ mind. He ignored the stains the best he could, and tried not to picture cataracts gushing through the tunnel.
Brooke walked directly behind him. From time to time he could hear her mumbling prayers. Her sweet voice—so tiny and frail—made him shiver. Banks imagined Brooke’s prayers traveling all the way up to Heaven’s throne room and knifing through the din of cherubim singing majestic praises, and thunderclaps issuing from the throne.