The Seventh Vial: A Novel of the Great Tribulation (The Days of Elijah Book 4)

by Mark Goodwin

  Josiah replied, “I think they’ve been reduced to pickup trucks. A few are outfitted with machine guns, but I think all the big toys have been taken out.”

  “So now we’re just killing each other, man to man and gun to gun.”

  Josiah nodded. “We’re doing more killing than they are, sir. Few of the remaining MOC fighters appear to not have any military experience at all. Some look like this is their first time actually shooting guns.”

  Everett looked at Josiah’s rank insignia. “Staff Sergeant, given your knowledge of the battlefield, how would you utilize this Typhoon, since it’s one of the few remaining armored vehicles?”

  “It’s probably the last, sir. I’d drive hard into the enemy line. I’d ram the jihadis with the truck, which would break their line and force those not hit by the vehicle to fall back. I’d stick the Typhoon sideways, which would provide the Israelis a secured barrier to fight from behind.”

  Everett turned to Ali. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “I’d be honored to fight beside you, sir. May I request to stay in the vehicle with your team?”

  “We’d love to have you.” Everett put his hand on Josiah’s shoulder and quickly introduced him to the team.

  Everett assigned roles for each of them. Once the Typhoon came to a stop, he and Micha would fire RPGs at the enemy while Ali and Josiah provided cover fire. Courtney would keep Everett and Micha supplied with rocket-propelled grenades for their launchers.

  Once he confirmed that everyone understood the strategy, Everett slapped the back of the driver’s seat. “Okay, Ali—let’s wrap this thing up!”

  The Typhoon barreled through the grass, several feet off the main road’s shoulder. Everett and the others stayed seated with their seat belts fastened until Ali had smashed through the front line of the MOC jihadis. From the passenger’s seat, Everett pointed through the windshield. “If you can hit that technical with the fifty mounted in the back, it would help our cause immensely.”

  Ali’s face seemed unsure regarding what he was about to do. “If you say so, Everett.”

  “You’ve got this, Ali. We’ll be just fine.”

  Ali focused on his path, weaving past burned-out vehicles strewn about like the toys of an adolescent pyromaniac. “Tell for everybody to hang on!”

  “Brace for impact!” Everett yelled out to the passengers in the rear of the truck.

  Ali snapped the wheel to the left, aiming the giant machine right for the MOC firing line. SMAAASHHH! The Typhoon collided into the Toyota Tundra with the fifty-caliber machine gun mounted in the bed, just as Everett had directed. Everett’s body jerked forward into the shoulder strap of his seat belt with such velocity that he saw stars momentarily.

  The Typhoon knocked the Tundra out of the way like a bulldozer snapping over a two-year-old cedar-tree sapling. The MRAP plowed through the second and third vehicles, sending them spinning off on either side of the monster armored vehicle. The Russian military truck finally came to a complete stop.

  Outside of Everett’s side window, a Toyota Tacoma sat turned on its side with flames coming from the engine and fuel leaking from the tank. He released his seat belt. “Everybody okay back there?”

  “We’re all good.” Courtney’s voice blended with the sound of seat belts clicking and soldiers scrambling to prepare for battle.

  Everett retrieved the RPG launcher from beside his foot and looked at Ali. “You good?”

  “Considering I was just in very bad car crash,” Ali was visibly shaken. “Yes. I am pretty good.”

  BOOM! A rocket hit the front end of the Typhoon, shaking everyone inside. Smoke poured from the engine compartment.

  “They’ve incapacitated our truck. Retreat is no longer an option. We’ve got to fight like we’ve never fought in our lives.” Everett shouted out the mandate.

  With his AK in hand, Ali shoved the hatch door open above the cab and prepared to provide cover fire.

  Everett made his way to one of the center hatches. Micha would use the other center hatch so Courtney would be equidistant from each of them and ready to hand off the next grenade to whoever needed it.

  “Let’s go!” Everett popped his hatch, sprung up and took aim at yet another pickup truck falling back to form a second battle line from which the jihadis could defend their position. SWOOOOfff! The grenade glided over the heads of several fleeing MOC fighters, finally finding its intended target. BOOOOM! Fire, ash, and metal exploded in all directions. BOOM! Micha’s first grenade struck a second target, an off-white Land Cruiser, which was also reduced to a heap of black billowing smoke and flame.

  TA, TA, TA, TA, Ta! Machine gunfire rang out from all around. Everett and his team had proven themselves to be the biggest threat on the road, but in so doing they’d also marked themselves as the most high-valued target.

  “Cover me!” Everett took another grenade and loaded it into the launcher. He took aim at a box truck parked diagonally in the road which was being used as cover for multiple hostiles who were directing their fire toward Everett and his team. Shwoooofp! The grenade hit the truck. BOOM! He watched several of the jihadis fall behind the box truck, but one was still crawling around.

  “Courtney, quick! I need another grenade!”

  She passed another warhead to him which he expeditiously loaded and aimed toward the single man crawling beneath the frame of the smoldering box truck. The jihadi made his way to the edge of the truck and took aim at Everett.

  Everett pulled the trigger, sending the grenade toward the man. BOOM! Everett felt a sharp pain burn like a hot iron inside his right arm. The heat so intense, the torment so unbearable, he could not even make a sound. He gasped for air as his reflexes caused him to drop his launcher. He knew what had happened. The man had gotten off one last shot before the grenade sent him to find out that eternity held something quite different for him than the seventy-two virgins he’d been promised.

  Blood flowed freely from two adjacent holes in Everett’s right forearm. One was just above his wrist, the other slightly below his elbow. The exit wound was only slightly larger than the entry, which gave Everett hope that it had been a full-metal jacket rather than a hollow point. Nevertheless, he was done shooting RPGs for the day. Everett quickly brought up his HK rifle, which he could operate with his left hand in a pinch. And indeed, this situation was the dictionary definition of a pinch.

  Everett called out to Ali. “Switch functions with me. You take over the RPGs. I’ll lay down cover fire.”

  Ali’s face wrinkled in horror as he looked at Everett’s arm.

  Everett held a finger to his lips and shook his head, signaling for Ali to say nothing of the matter. The last thing any of them needed was Courtney losing focus because of her concern over Everett’s arm. She’d have plenty of time to console him later—if they survived the battle.

  Ali retreated inside the vehicle and popped back up through the hatch with a loaded RPG launcher. Everett nodded with a smile and continued to shoot at jihadis as he had opportunity.

  Suddenly, a wave of MOC fighters came running from behind their various positions of cover, shooting AK-47s, RPGs, and various other pistols and rifles. The barrage of lead and munitions pounded the side of the Typhoon as Everett sprayed bullets into the charge, Tink! Ting, tink, TINK, TING! A second bullet hit Everett’s right shoulder but he continued to fire until his magazine ran empty. He then pulled his tactical sling off of his injured shoulder with his left hand and pulled out the remaining fragmentation grenades. He pulled the pins with his teeth and pitched them to the oncoming crowd of jihadis with his left hand. One after the other, the frag grenades detonated taking out significant swaths of the mob, but they kept coming en masse.

  Ali cried out, “Everett! Get in the truck. Micha and Josiah are dead!”

  Everett was glad to hear Ali’s voice but sorry for the news it conveyed. With the hail of bullets and shrapnel, he was surprised any of them was still alive. Everett had no intention of giving up the fig
ht, but he was unable to change magazines with one hand, and he was out of grenades. When he felt Ali pulling him from below, he let himself be taken into the truck.

  Courtney slammed the hatch door behind him, then turned her attention to his wounds. “You’re hit!”

  “Don’t worry about me right now. We have to come up with a solution. Sooner or later, one of those RPGs will take out the front windshield. When that happens, they’ll come pouring through. Ali, reload my HK for me.”

  Disregarding his command, Courtney already had two pouches of QuikClot opened and was unpackaging an Israeli Battle Dressing.

  Ali reloaded Everett’s HK as well as his own rifle while Courtney applied the hemostatic pouches to each of Everett’s shoulder wounds, then secured them to the injuries with the sterile bandage.

  “Thank you, but I need you to get your rifle and prepare to fight when they breach the vehicle.” He looked at his beautiful wife compassionately, wishing she didn’t have to be here for what was about to happen.

  She fought back a tear and nodded. “Okay.” She bit her lower lip and grabbed her AR-15.

  “The windshield is their only way in.” Everett could hear the jihadis beating on the roof of the Typhoon while other continued to shoot and beat on the windshield.

  “It has been such an honor to know you both. I look forward to many good years in the kingdom of heaven with you.” Ali forced a smile.

  Everett returned the artificial expression. “Same here, Ali.”

  Courtney also seemed to resign herself to the inevitable fate. “I love you both.” She choked. “Especially you, Everett.”

  Explosions and gunfire rang out from all around. BOOM! A grenade from under the Typhoon rocked the vehicle violently. BOOM! Another grenade hit the center of the windshield, sending debris, smoke, and shrapnel into the cab of the truck.

  Everett raised his rifle, ready to make his final defense. He watched for the army of jihadis to come rushing through the breach to finish them off. He stood in front of Courtney in case the last assault would come in the form of another RPG or fragmentation grenade.

  But none of those things happened. The bullets pounding the side of the Typhoon slowed. The pounding on the roof of the truck ceased. Nothing and no one came through the pierced windshield, yet Everett continued to wait.

  “The fighting. It is moving away from us,” Ali said softly.

  Everett listened to confirm what Ali told him. He signaled with his left hand for Courtney to stay seated in the rear of the vehicle. He picked up his HK and slowly worked his way to the front. He looked through the missing section of windshield to see multiple civilian vehicles racing past them. Armed troops wearing Israeli uniforms ran by on foot, advancing in the direction the jihadis had been only minutes earlier. “The IDF soldiers have MOC on the run!” Everett shouted with glee.

  Ali laughed and hurried to Everett’s location, giving him a gentle hug.

  Courtney also jogged to the front of the truck. She kissed him on the mouth, then said, “Let’s get that arm dressed.”

  He grinned from ear to ear. “Okay.” Everett looked her in the eye, glad to be alive, and thankful that God had spared her as well. He held out his forearm for her to clean while she rifled through the contents of the first-aid kit.

  CHAPTER 17

  It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

  Lamentations 3:22-23

  Sitting on the bumper of the Typhoon near the entrance to the underground city in Kayseri, Everett looked at his watch. “Midnight.”

  “That’s the last of the convoy. All the children of Israel have arrived.” Rabbi Hertzog carefully maneuvered his crutches and leaned on the bumper next to Everett.

  “We still have to get them moved to the other cities.” Everett adjusted the sling around his neck, which held his right arm.

  “Let’s get some rest. The people can sleep in their vehicles or on a blanket on the ground for one night. Everyone is tired. Tomorrow is a new day, and we will all feel much better after a few hours of sleep.”

  The physician who had been attending to Everett and the rabbi’s injuries came by. “Mr. Carroll, I need to give you another shot of antibiotics.”

  “You gave me the pills,” Everett replied.

  “I know, but you’ve sustained major tissue damage in multiple locations. On top of everything else, your wounds were open for an extended period of time in battlefield conditions. An infection would seriously hamper your ability to heal. It is imperative that we do all we can to keep one from setting in.”

  Everett pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose his bare shoulder and turned away from the needle. He winced for a moment while the doctor gave him the injection. Once it was over, he said, “Thank you for looking after us.”

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you, Mr. Carroll.” The man replaced the cap on the syringe. “Are you both certain that I can’t give you something for the pain?”

  “The nurse gave me some ibuprofen.” Everett pulled his shirt back over his shoulder.

  “Considering what you’ve been through, I think your injuries warrant something a little stronger.” The physician stuck his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat.

  “Some of these other guys need it a lot more than I do. Besides, I have to keep my wits about me. This mission isn’t over until we have everyone settled in. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”

  The doctor smiled at Everett. “Exactly, and you’ll need some rest.”

  “I won’t have any trouble sleeping.” Everett nodded confidently.

  “And you, Rabbi? Your leg is in pretty bad shape.”

  “No, thank you.” Hertzog held up a hand. “Likewise, the nurse gave me some ibuprofen.”

  “Suit yourselves. But both of you, get some rest.” The man waved as he walked away. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “Thanks.” Everett held up his left hand to bid the man goodnight.

  Courtney and Ali arrived carrying hot food prepared by some of the non-combatants. Courtney asked, “What did the doctor say?”

  “I needed another shot of antibiotics,” Everett replied.

  She said, “If you’re going to be in this situation anyways, I suppose it’s nice to be in it with a race of people who are disproportionately high regarding their involvement in the medical field.”

  Hertzog lifted his index finger. “This is true.”

  “Both of you, come on inside the truck and sit down to eat. Ali and I brought food for all of us.”

  “Thank you. After that, I’ll be ready for a good long sleep.” Everett pushed off the bumper with his left hand, then offered it to the rabbi, helping him to get his weight back onto his crutches.

  The first light of the sun beamed through the broken windshield of the Typhoon Sunday morning, rousing Everett from his slumber. He’d slept on the floor with only a camping mat and a sleeping bag for padding. He’d been forced to sleep solely on his left side because of his gunshot wounds. Between the injuries, the stagnate sleeping position, and the stress of battle from the day before, his body was stiff and sore all over. The pain served as an adrenaline booster in the stead of his usual morning tea. He sat up and leaned forward, stretching to reach his toes with his good hand.

  Courtney rolled over beside him. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  “Like a rock on a rock.”

  “That’s a fairly accurate description of my night. I was out, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Maybe our accommodations will be a little better tonight.”

  “Have you decided which city we’ll settle in?” She stretched her neck as if she were trying to work out a crick.

  “Kaymakli. It’s one of the smallest, but it’s also connected by a tunnel to Derinkuyu, which is one of the largest. With only 2,500 other people, we won’t feel so claustrophobic, but we’ll have options i
n case we’re overrun and have to escape to Derinkuyu.”

  “Overrun? I thought we were done fighting. Who would attack the underground cities?”

  Everett shrugged, forgetting about the gaping hole in his shoulder until he’d already made the gesture. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes until the pain from the ill-thought-out movement passed. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know who might attack it. But this is the Apocalypse, and trouble is never far away.”

  Courtney pulled her boots on her feet. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” Everett soon regretted his answer as he tried to slip his own boots on.

  Courtney didn’t wait for him to admit he required assistance. She gracefully loosened the laces, shoved a boot on each of his feet and tied them tight.

  “Good morning, Everett and Courtney!” Ali was entirely too chipper for such a short night’s sleep. Both of his eyes were black from the impact of his face into the door of the hatch during the prior day’s battle. His nose was swollen which added to the drastic contrast between his beat-up appearance and his upbeat smile.

  “Good morning, Ali. You sure are in a good mood.” Courtney seemed to have contracted the infectious grin, although her expression wasn’t quite as vibrant as Ali’s.

  “This is the day that the Lord has made! I will rejoice and be glad in it!” Ali laced up his boots and strapped on his pistol belt.

  Everett also caught the bug. Soon he had an expression of gratitude and the corners of his mouth turned up. Yes, he’d had a rough day, but much less so than many of the other soldiers who’d either died in the battle or sustained incapacitating injuries.

  Members of the Knesset assigned living quarters to the people in the convoy based on the capacity of the individual underground cities and the amount of fuel remaining in the tanks of a given traveler’s vehicle.

  Everett was given the task of assigning security teams to the cities. He regretted having the task, not because he found the work to be arduous, but because he felt it should have been Tobias or Gideon who had the honor. But they were no longer among the living, so he discharged his duty with a level of integrity and humanity that he felt his fallen brothers-in-arms and brothers-in-Christ would have approved of.