THE CLOCK ON THE WALL TICKED DOWN THE SECONDS AS HE STARED INTO THE CAMERA.
This was it. In a matter of minutes, his life would change. Everyone’s life would change.
He rehearsed his lines, though he knew them by heart. There would be no teleprompter. There would be no script. There would only be him. And the camera, of course. And the person who would receive this message.
A small television sat off to the side, monitoring the feed. He could see his image staring back at him. He watched as the second hand ticked off the final seconds. Tick. Tick. And then it was time.
The red light above the lens flicked on. With the remote in his hand, he zoomed in and watched the monitor. This was it. No turning back.
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath and let it out again. His heart was pounding through his chest. He opened his eyes and set his jaw firm. And then he began.
“Good evening, Mr. President. I am the Prophet. And I have been commanded to give you a message.”
Praise for The 13: Fall,
named one of Library Journal’s Best Christian Fiction Books of 2012
The nation is in serious trouble, politically, financially, and spiritually. Will America be able to pull itself together and set itself on the right path? You’ll be spellbound from the first page. The authors have joined forces to produce a real winner that you will surely enjoy. Don’t miss this one!
—Viki Ferrell, FreshFiction.com
The characters are well developed, the plot is superb, and the action is continuous. I highly recommend this novel as it portrays a very possible future for the United States. This is the first in a series, and the book leaves you waiting for the next installment!
—Joan Nienhuis, Book Reviews from an Avid Reader blog
(bookwomanjoan.blogspot.com)
© 2013 by Robbie Cheuvront, Erik Reed, and Shawn Allen
Print ISBN 978-1-62029-959-3
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62416-507-8
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62416-506-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®, copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Jason Gabbert Design
For more information about the authors, please access the following Internet address: http://www.thejourneytn.org/
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio
44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part 1: Rebirth
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part 2: Divided
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Part 3: Stand
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Epilogue
About the Authors
To all who still believe in “One Nation Under God.”
“It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible.”
—George Washington
“And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.”
—Jesus Christ, The Gospel of Mark 3:25
PROLOGUE
The room was just like any other space: adequately furnished, old hardwood floors that had scuff marks on them from all the years of tables and chairs being scooted across their surface, and a few unassuming paintings hanging slightly crooked on each wall, in order to give the room a more…homey feel. An antique desk stood against one wall with an Aresline Xten chair—the world’s most expensive office chair. Opposite the desk stood two others—for guests—which could have been bought from Walmart. The old man didn’t know. Nor did he care. His second wife had bought them. He would never think of sitting his old frame down in anything but the Aresline. The Shed, as it was called, was the perfect place for this meeting. And for one reason, one that only those who had been there were aware of: its location. The old man checked once more to make sure he had everything he needed and then went back up the stairs to the main house.
The house sat just off Durant Road, a few miles out of downtown; an old, fully restored Civil War farmhouse sitting back, nestled in the tall pines. Unless someone knew exactly where it was, they would probably just miss the little, narrow dirt road that led the three-quarters of a mile back through the wooded area leading to the house. The old man had bought the house twenty-five years earlier, for his third wife. She had thought it cute, and a good place for her daughter to stay while finishing nursing school. He hadn’t cared much for the house itself, but the grounds behind it were perfect for the project he had been planning. And though the project was going to cost close to a quarter of a billion dollars, he didn’t care. He had the money. Old money. The kind that came at the expense of hundreds of thousands of unsuspecting human beings. Tobacco.
The old man had since divorced his third wife. And his fourth. His current wife, number five, was never around, either. She had extended family all over the country. And she liked being gone and visiting them more than staying home with him, which he was fine with. After six years with her, the relationship had pretty much run its course. He would’ve divorced her a year ago, if she were ever around. But after four already, he just didn’t have the energy to spend
on it. She didn’t care what he did anyway, and so he just let it be. So, now, the house was used for visiting friends and family. But for the most part, it remained empty. And that was a good thing. Because it allowed the old man to conduct his more sketchy business away from inquiring minds. Because behind the house, stood the Shed. Buried fifty meters below the surface was a room constructed of three-foot-thick, steel-reinforced concrete walls. And though this room, by itself, was impressive, it was only the northern wing of an eighteen-hundred-square-foot, state-of-the-art survival shelter, stocked with provisions for up to ten people to live for as long as five years, complete with its own water and air filtration system. All constructed and designed by himself, Gavin Pemberton III.
Pemberton—or the old man, as he was called by his friends—had offered the Shed for tonight’s meeting. An offer that was readily accepted by all parties involved. One can’t be too careful these days, he thought. No one ever knew whether or not the Chinese were going to come over the mountains at any second, or if that imbecile Walker was going to negotiate more land over to those communists. Sure, Walker had promised that he was going to see to it that they did everything they could to ensure the United States’ return to greatness. The only problem was, the idiot was trying to change everything great about what was left of the country.
As he kicked back and forth in the old wooden rocking chair on the wraparound porch, Pemberton saw the headlights from the cars bounce off the trees, swinging back and forth as the small dirt road curved and twisted. Moments later, two vehicles—an older model pickup truck and a new SUV—stopped in front of the old yellow farmhouse. Pemberton waited for the two men to exit their vehicles and then, without a word, stood up and motioned for them to follow him around the side of the house to the backyard.
A small, dilapidated structure sat at the edge of the yard, leaning against the back row of thirty-foot-tall pine trees. The Shed. No one would ever guess this old shed was the entrance to one of the most secure facilities on earth. Pemberton held a hand up to halt everyone outside the door and silently stepped inside and found the hidden keypad behind the workbench. He punched in the numbers and stepped back outside. He motioned for the others to follow him.
As Pemberton moved over to allow the others in, he reached out and pulled one of the others back. “Wanna watch where you’re steppin’ there, hoss.” With almost surprising swiftness, the concrete slab on the floor had released a phst! and began to rapidly move to the side, revealing a set of stairs that led down into the dark earth.
Pemberton began to descend the stairs. “Better shake a leg, fellas,” he called over his shoulder. “This thing’s gonna reset itself in a minute.”
The guests followed him down the dark stairwell.
Once inside the room, Pemberton gestured for his guests to take a seat. He, of course, took the Aresline. Once everyone was seated, he began.
“Good to see you, Judge. Thanks for coming, Governor.”
Both men nodded.
“Milton said this was urgent. That it was something that needed my direct attention,” the governor said.
Pemberton looked at the other man. “You tell him anything, Milton?”
“Nothing specific. But I think we all know why we’re here.”
“Do we?” It was the governor.
Pemberton pursed his lips and folded one of his long skinny arms up under the other one, resting his finger in the cleft of his chin. “Lemme ask you something, Joe. When you were a little boy, when you thought about what you wanted to be when you grew up, what was it?”
The governor thought about it for a moment. “I wanted to be a fireman.”
“So then why aren’t you a fireman?”
The governor shifted in his seat. “Well, I guess because…well…Look, I just wanted to help people, really.”
“And that’s why you ran for governor,” Pemberton said.
“Yes.”
Pemberton leaned forward. “And that’s why I got you elected. Because I saw something great in you. It’s why I spent the kind of money I did on you, boy. Because I knew you couldn’t be shaken. That you’d do whatever you needed to do, in order to maintain the greatness of this state.”
“Thank you, Gavin. I appreciate your kind words.”
“And I know that you ain’t gonna kowtow to any special interest groups,” Pemberton continued. “It’s your beliefs on God is what’s got me fired up!”
“I don’t understand,” the governor said. “You know my position on that. I’m an atheist.”
“Exactly!”
“Perhaps I can shed some light here,” the judge said.
Pemberton swept his arm out in a gesture, giving the judge the floor.
“Joe, it’s been over four months since the Chinese attacked. We all know how close this country came to almost losing everything. If it weren’t for sheer dumb luck and an exceptional operative named Jon Keene, we’d all be wearing red and pledging allegiance to the People’s Republic of China.
“Gavin and I have been talking for a while now. President Walker is adamant about his decision to stand still at this time and exhibit no aggression toward the Chinese.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “That’s ludicrous, in our minds. Once our boys got back here on our shores with the help of the Royal Navy, we should have gone full throttle back at them. We should have pushed them right back through those border towns they crossed and right into the Pacific Ocean.” He jabbed a finger through the air. “Not just stop and negotiate new borders. What kind of president does that?”
“A coward! That’s who!” Pemberton snapped.
The governor nodded. It was no secret he had objections to the way President Walker had handled the crisis. He had called him misguided and accused him of playing upon the fears of people who ignorantly placed their hope in something that didn’t exist by giving credence to the man who called himself the Prophet.
“Listen, Joe,” the judge continued, “they may call this part of the country the Bible Belt, but I’m here to tell you that there are a lot of people who couldn’t give a care about changing the kinds of things Walker is talking about changing. The man’s gone mad! People down here don’t want that kind of change. We liked our country just fine the way it was before Walker and Grant let it get sold out right out from under their noses.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?” the governor said.
“We want you to be our president,” Pemberton said.
The governor laughed a throaty, short laugh.
“We’re serious,” the judge said.
“And how do you plan on making that happen?” the governor said, still chuckling.
The judge stood up from his chair and went to the wet bar. He poured himself two fingers of Pemberton’s thirty-year-old scotch. He glanced over to the other two to see if they, too, wanted one. They both nodded and the judge poured the round.
Sitting back down, he continued, “I’ve been on the North Carolina Supreme Court for eighteen years now. I’ve seen a lot come and go. I’ve seen laws that should have never been remain laws. And I’ve seen laws that were rock solid get thrown out like yesterday’s table scraps.
“I say that to say this: in 1869, the United States Supreme Court ruled that a state did not have the right to secede from the union. But here’s the thing. It was against the law for us to secede from England when we wanted our freedom. They said it was against the law when the South tried to secede from the North. But the bottom line is this: our own Declaration of Independence lays out the grounds for when the people of this country should rise up and defend what they know to be right.”
He pulled out a small piece of paper and unfolded it. Retrieving his reading glasses from his pocket, he smoothed the page and began to read aloud.
“When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal statio
n to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.”
The governor cleared his throat and tried to say something, but only a squeak came out. He coughed and pounded himself in the chest. “I’m sorry, I guess that scotch went down the wrong pipe. Milton, Gavin, I’ve known you two for a long time. You both are like a second set of granddads to me. But gentlemen, what you are suggesting is treason.”
Pemberton shot out of his chair. “Treason? Treason! I’ll tell you what’s treason. Letting the gal-dern Chinese set off ten suitcase nukes on our West Coast is treason! Sitting back and watching them come unimpeded across our border was treason! President Walker ain’t fit to run a shoe store, let alone this country. And I won’t sit by idly and watch them ruin everything my family and I have worked for almost three hundred years to achieve.”
“Calm down, Gavin,” the judge said.
Pemberton drained his glass and slammed it back down on the desk before taking his seat again.
“Joe, what Gavin is saying is, there are those of us who have already been moving toward a solution. This thing has come together quick, I must say. But in the end, it was inevitable. We can’t sit back and let some wacko religious zealots manipulate this country into changing what we are. We have to act now.”
The governor twirled his finger around his glass. He took a big swallow, stood up, got himself a refill, and sat back down. “So this isn’t just some fly-by-night fancy that you two have cooked up?”
Pemberton leaned forward onto the desk. “Son, I’ve got no less than two hundred of the top business minds in these southern states ready to pour resources into whatever we need to make this happen. Milton has been in meetings with justices from every state supreme court from Virginia to Georgia. We don’t like Walker’s idea of running this country. What’s left of it. We need to take it back. We need to kick these Chinese back to where they came from. And we don’t need some crackpot calling himself a prophet dictating government policy. We’re doing this. And we want you at the helm.”
THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO Page 1