Jessica stopped her attempts to strike Jack and simply looked into her husband's eyes like a sad, defeated puppy. “Honey, your intentions may have been noble, but the Bible teaches us what must be. Even if we fight, only Jesus will win the end battle.”
“Does that mean we sit idly by and do nothing?” Jack asked Jessica in a hurt voice. “Jessica, I know what the Bible teaches, and I know only Jesus will defeat the evil we're fighting. But we must continue to fight until the end. While we may not be winning the war now, each battle we win makes a difference.” Jack pointed at Jessica. “You have to remember where I hid the virus. I told you the location.”
“Jack, I—” Jessica began to object.
“Every battle we win saves a life, Jessica,” Jack promised, as he slowly began to fade away. “Every battle we win saves a baby, changes a life, brings a person to Jesus. We have to keep fighting. Remember where I hid the virus. Remember my journal. Everything is in my journal.”
“Jack, what do I do if I find your journal?” Jessica begged, watching her husband turn into a white ash and then disperse into the dark winds. “Jack, what do I do?”
“You'll remember when the time is right,” Jack promised. “Always know I'm with you, honey. This dream will be the first of many.”
“Jack, don't go!” Jessica cried and ran toward her husband but, to her misery, watched the wind carry away his ashes. “Jack, don't go!”
“Remember my journal,” Jack's voice whispered from the distance. Before Jessica could respond, a bright white light shattered the darkness and carried Jessica back to her starting point—the white room.
There, to her shock, she spotted Jack's journal on the white bed. Jessica ran to the bed and snatched the journal open. The name PASTOR BRASTON was written on the inside cover in bold caps.
Chapter 4
On the Move
Jessica woke up with a start.
“Pastor Braston,” she heard her trembling lips whisper. The dark room Jessica was resting in was cold, damp and felt more like an empty tomb than an old bedroom. Outside, icy, bitter winds howled and screamed, creating the atmosphere of a horror movie that was overtaking reality, as heavy snow continued to fall on the abandoned farmhouse.
What is reality? Jessica's mind wondered, as she sat up on a hard floor that hurt her back and called out, “Mandy?”
“I'm right here, Jessie,” Mandy answered, laying a few feet near a boarded-up window to Jessica's right. Mandy sounded fully awake. “You were dreaming and, from the sounds you were making, you must have dreamed something awful.”
Jessica struggled to see her sister through the darkness. “I dreamed of Jack,” she confessed, desperately trying to wake up. Pastor Braston. Pastor Tom Braston.
“Are we alone?”
“Nope.” Alvin's voice entered the cold air like heavy bricks being dropped from a ten-story building. “Jacob and the Pastor are down in the basement. We figured it wouldn't hurt if Old Alvin tried to get some rest.”
“You mean stand guard over us ladies,” Mandy corrected Alvin in a quick voice.
“Well...never hurts,” Alvin answered. Jessica could tell that Alvin was sitting up with his back pressed against the far left wall. In a deeply troubled voice, he said, “Things sure ain't looking good for us. No sir.”
“What's happened?” Jessica demanded.
“Thousands of protestors have gathered at the White House,” Mandy explained. “The protestors have turned violent. Many have tried to break through the security fences—”
“And they were shot down,” Alvin added in a dreaded voice. “Normally that would be cool, but the media is turning those thugs into heroes and making it seem like the President is a dictator.”
“President Green has been forced to leave Washington to fly to a secure location,” Mandy continued. “The media is reporting that more and more protestors are gathering at the White House; mostly people between the ages of 18-29. The cops and Secret Service won't be able to hold the White House much longer.”
“Protestors are promising to burn the White House down,” Alvin told Jessica and then went for a cigarette. “It's bad.” He studied the cigarette in his hand, but didn't light up. “Our beloved politicians are currently holding an emergency meeting—”
“Impeachment,” Mandy clarified.
“The Department of Justice has no evidence that the President is guilty of anything, but the CIA is insisting they have evidence that will be presented soon enough. Right now, there are enough people on the President's side to keep him from being run down, but those people are dwindling like sticks in a fire.” Alvin put his cigarette away. “Cops in all the major cites can't hold back the protestors. Cars are burning. Buildings and city blocks are being turned into war zones. Counter protestors are showing up. Gun fights are taking place. It's insane.”
“President Green has issued martial law from Air Force One. A curfew of nine o'clock has been set,” Mandy explained, “Anyone who violates the order will be arrested on site—”
“The problem is, there's not enough cops to arrest everyone,” Alvin cut Mandy off. “The military is being called in to help the cops, which is good and bad.”
“Good for us, because a majority of all the roadblocks are being taken down in order to reroute law enforcement officials,” Mandy told Jessica. “Right now, at least for the time being, the good people of America are demanding action. Even the media is admitting the violent protestors are out of control. One man, some guy name Mitchell Baltimore, is claiming he's going to kill Roger Alden and take over the CIA.”
“Small groups are breaking off from the main groups,” Alvin explained. “Black Panthers, KKK, Neo-Nazis, military rejects; all these are people who the government used to do their bidding but can't control anymore.” Alvin rubbed the back of his neck. “And it's like I said, the counter protestors aren’t taking any flak. They're showing up armed and ready for a fight—”
“Over eleven-hundred people around the country have been killed,” Mandy informed Jessica. “The United Nations is demanding that the violence stop, or they're going to send in foreign troops. President Green has resisted the threat and threatened to block all foreign troops by using our own military as a deterrent.”
“The UN building in Babylon...I mean...New York, has been evacuated. All the rats have flown to Switzerland,” Alvin added.
“My goodness,” Jessica whispered.
“It's all over.” Alvin stood up, stretched his sore back, and studied the dark room. “All it took was one person, and one lie.”
“One person. One lie,” Mandy echoed Alvin.
Before Jessica could respond, Jacob knocked on the bedroom door.
“Open,” Alvin called out.
Jacob eased the bedroom door open and pointed the dim light of a cell phone into the bedroom. “There is a bed in the basement.”
“That basement gives me the creeps,” Mandy told Jacob. She shivered, asking, “My fever is dying down. I feel stronger than I did before. When are we moving out?”
“Moving out?” Jessica asked.
“General Garcia has located a path for us to travel,” Jacob explained, glad to see that Jessica was awake. “He'll keep track but, as it stands, the path he located for us is clear. We should be able to reach Pennsylvania in about three days.”
“Pastor Braston is going to hide us in his church,” Mandy told Jessica, even though Jessica already knew the plan.
“The church,” Jessica whispered.
“What, honey?” Mandy asked.
Jessica stood up, stretched her back, and allowed her mind to focus. “The virus...I have to locate the virus. The virus is in my husband's journal.”
Jacob shook his head. “Mrs. Mayes, your home was burned down to the very foundation and—”
“My husband's journal wasn't in our home,” Jessica cut Jacob off in a curt voice.
“How can you be so certain?” Jacob demanded, heari
ng a strange sense of confidence and renewal in Jessica's voice that sent chills down his spine.
“I know. Somehow, I just know,” Jessica insisted. “The dream I had...my husband was in my dream. He was telling me something. Telling me to remember where his journal was.” Jessica hated the dark bedroom and wished she were standing in a brightly lit room, bathed in warm light. At the moment, she was forced to speak her thoughts while standing in a miserable tomb. “I found the journal in my dream. When I opened it, the name Pastor Braston was written in bold caps on the inside cover.”
Jacob struggled to make sense of Jessica's words. “Mrs. Mayes, you had a troubled dream—”
“My husband was insisting I remember the location of his journal,” Jessica snapped at Jacob. “I... every time we fight, a life is saved.” she whispered. She ran her hands through her hair, and then closed her eyes and tried to think.
“I'm tired of running. I can't run or hide anymore,” she announced. “I will either die fighting or live fighting. If I simply give up, my husband, along with everything he worked and fought for, will die. My husband believed in the good of humanity and, while this world may be a war zone where the idea of good and evil are constantly at battle, I simply can't hide away and hope someone else will win the war for me.” Jessica walked over to Mandy, bent down, and took her sister's hand. “I'm a marked woman, Mandy. The only real choice that is left for you and me is to fight.”
“Sis, what choice do we have but to fight?” Mandy drew in a deep, worried, breath. “I'm not sure what good Jack's virus might do us but, if we just sit around in this farm house and watch the world explode and do nothing, I don't think I could live with myself.”
“If I can get the virus,” Jacob assured Jessica in an urgent voice, but then corrected himself. “If we can get the virus, we can take down Roger Alden, the CIA, the FBI, and the UN. We can disable every nuclear capability our enemies possess and restore calm.” Jacob stepped into the bedroom. “Mrs. Mayes, your husband's virus is based on an artificial intelligence that no man can outsmart. We're talking about a virus that can adapt, blend in, camouflage, restructure and reformat. It’s amazing stuff that my mind can barely grasp. Your husband was a genius, Mrs. Mayes. He created the ultimate weapon that my own people barely have a grasp on.”
“Jack was a humble man,” Jessica corrected Jacob. “My husband created his work in order to fight the good fight and to restore good to humanity.”
“Your husband created a weapon that can give victory to both good and evil,” Jacob told Jessica. “Right now, no amount of force is going to sway the division in America. We need a different weapon, one that can control and destroy our internal and external enemies.” Jacob rubbed his chin as his mind worked. “Every rat at the UN has hidden secrets, Mrs. Mayes. We control and destroy people through information, factual and false, as you have seen. If we can locate the virus, there still may be a chance—”
“Mr. Green,” Jessica spoke in a shockingly calm tone, “that's where you're wrong. Perhaps that's where my husband was also wrong.” Jessica let go of Mandy's hand and stood up. “Mr. Green...Jacob...there is only one man who can bring complete victory, and that man is the Lord Jesus Christ. All we can do is fight the good fight and do our part. No amount of political battling is going to change the world back. It has revolved right back into the days of Noah and Lot.”
Jessica walked over to Alvin and patted the large man's shoulder. “Countless, unimaginable abortions. Women declaring they have the right to murder their own unborn child. Immoral marriages. Men and women claiming they have the right to marry someone from their same sex. Men dressing like women. Christians and Jews are hated and slaughtered while abominable religions are protected. A person can't even pray in public schools anymore—”
“Public schools? You mean indoctrination centers,” Alvin informed Jessica in a sick voice. “I knew a girl back on my block. She had a ten-year-old boy who wanted to do a report on King David. You know what his teacher told him?”
“What?” Mandy asked.
“That boy was told that the Bible was fake. He was ordered to do a report on some homosexual who, after his momma did some checking, was a registered sex offender.” Alvin made a sick face. “It's all about indoctrination. The serpent is trying to poison the minds of our children and using the government to call the shots.”
“That's true,” Jacob agreed. “But right now, we have to focus on—”
“Simply doing our part for God,” Jessica told Jacob. “If you're expecting to change America into an idea that you have formulated in your own mind, Jacob, you're going to fail. America has crossed a line that can never be crossed back. Can't you see that? America has become a virus that is destroying the souls of people. My husband understood that, and like yourself, he hoped to change the world. But you can't change the world, Jacob. Only Jesus can and, as long as the world continues to reject Jesus, there is no hope.” Jessica approached Jacob. “All you and people like Roger Alden are doing is fighting a losing battle. Can't you understand that?”
“I understand that, unless we act, this country is going to fall,” Jacob told Jessica in a voice that was quickly filling with anger. “Mrs. Mayes, we can change the world. A power and a passion resides within a man to change the world for better or worse. I want to change the world for the better. To make our schools safe for our children again and to make—”
“It's too late,” Jessica insisted.
Tom, who had been listening out in the hallway, decided it was time to step in. “Mrs. Mayes is right, son,” he said in a careful voice, stepping up next to Jacob and looking into the dark room. “The Book of Revelation was written for this generation; a wicked and perverse generation that defends evil and attacks good.”
“You're supposed to be downstairs in the basement,” Jacob ordered.
“I could no longer stand watching our cities being torn apart,” Tom explained and bowed his head. “The protestors—thousands of them, like ants—have broken through to the White House which has been set on fire.”
“What?” Mandy gasped. “Oh, my goodness...”
“Then it's all over,” Alvin whispered. “It's really all over.”
Jacob quickly called General Garcia. “General—”
“The White House is burning,” General Garcia informed Jacob, walking down an underground concrete tunnel on weak legs. “I believe Roger Alden has lost control of his people.” General Garcia passed one closed door after another, as he walked under lines of florescent light bulbs that seemed to stretch on forever. “President Green has given Pentagon officials control over the country. Congress isn't fighting the order.”
“You don't seem very upset, General.” Jacob said.
“The protestors have allowed us some breathing room,” General Garcia explained. “The splinter groups are openly announcing that the CIA paid them to organize in order to harm the President. Social media is ablaze with the accusations. Right now, doubt is being thrown at Roger Alden and his agency, and a lot of anger is forming toward him.”
“Roger Alden controls the media,” Jacob reminded General Garcia. “He'll squash all reports that are not favorable and turn back to attacking Dad.”
“That may be true,” General Garcia agreed, reaching a closed door which was guarded by two armed men, “but, son, there is a lot of fear and anger within our country at this very second. There are media puppets deserting ship out of fear. Reports are coming in that the main stream media outlets have lost forty percent of their personnel out of fear of retaliation.” General Garcia presented a badge to the two armed men. The armed men checked the badge and let the General pass into a protected meeting room, where official military leaders from Russia and China were waiting. “I have a vital meeting to attend.”
“I understand.” Jacob ended the call, looked at Jessica, and then focused on Pastor Braston. “We're leaving for Pennsylvania ASAP. Everyone on your feet,” Jacob ordered. “We're g
oing for supplies and weapons, nothing more.”
“What else do we have?” Mandy asked in a worried voice.
Alvin walked over to Mandy and gently helped the woman stand up. “Maybe you and I should stay here at this house.” he suggested. “You'll be a lot safer.”
Mandy patted Alvin's hand. “Thanks for the offer, but I can't leave my sister.”
“I had a gut feeling that would be your answer,” Alvin sighed. He looked at Jacob. “Alright, my friend, let's get some boogie in the hanky and get to dancing, huh?”
Jacob walked over to Alvin, took the man's hand, and shook it. “I'm grateful for you,” he said, and then left the room quickly. Pastor Braston didn't follow. Instead, he studied Jessica's shadowy face. There was something new about the woman; something that worried his heart.
((((((((((*))))))))))
Roger Alden struck his desk with fists that could have ripped the entire CIA building apart.
“I want them dead,” he yelled at Tim. “I didn't pay those welfare rats to betray me!”
Tim clasped his hands behind his back and waited for Roger's temper to calm. “Sir,” he spoke, “there are too many of them to kill. At this juncture, we have no choice but to focus our resources elsewhere.”
“I didn't order the White House burned!”
“Unfortunately, Sir, we have countless protestors showing the media some pay reports that we issued the Red Leaders of each assigned protest. Hunt Mallard, William Enchida, and Tony Bellson, have presented the pay reports and are claiming that you have orchestrated the take down of President Green. In return, countless armed counter-protestors have arrived in each city,” Tim explained in an uneasy voice. “The nationwide roadblocks we established are being taken down. Law enforcement is being rerouted to handle the violence.”
Green File Crime Thrillers Box Set Page 31