Everyone else was so easy to manipulate. All the other world religions? Just help them earn what they want. Promise them Nirvana, or seventy-two virgins. Tell them they could become one of 144,000 or an eternal god over their own world. Encourage them to become one with Mother Earth, or to follow the do’s and don’ts of whatever holy book someone wrote under some worldly or other-worldly influence. Even atheists. Just overwhelm them with philosophies. They all had their hot buttons. So easy to distract. So easy to lead like sheep to a slaughter.
But not Christians. Not the real ones.
Matthews took a deep breath.
No. I will succeed. This will go my way. I will be the most powerful being this world has ever seen!
Senator Jason Matthews turned the noise up louder and twirled like a little kid in the center of his room, sipping his drink, and laughing at all the little people under his command.
Maybe a young boy tonight?
52. GOODBYE
Wednesday, 1500 EST:
Kim Brandon made her last phone call. After five minutes, she was as sure as humanly possible that all the equipment would arrive early Friday morning. Each of the cases, from several locations, would be at her motel in time for her final trip. She would load them into a rented van and head for the base. She had already arranged for suitable credentials to guarantee that neither she nor her cargo would be subject to inspection. It wouldn’t do for anyone to look at her ultra-specialized equipment, or at the strange suit quickly manufactured per specifications she had memorized during her trip to DPI.
Kim was more excited than she’d been in years. It was like the first time she’d left home to go to college, or even her honeymoon. She wasn’t at all bothered by the knowledge that it was a one-way trip.
She carefully packed her passports and IDs and put on the makeup to match her current hair color. Then she picked up the dental devices and glasses. She already had on the correct finger print gloves.
Should be the last time I’ll ever need any of this.
She carefully looked at herself in the mirror. Then Kim—Karen Lane Richardson—took all her belongings and headed for the airport.
Wednesday, 1700 EST:
“Are you sure, Mr. President?”
Chet Rowland was a short, stocky, retired Marine—some say once a Marine, always a Marine—and addressed President Garcia with both respect and sincere concern.
“Chet, what’s going to happen is going to happen. But only when the very last person is led to salvation during the Church Age, this age of grace. If that door closes this Saturday, so be it. But if not, I’m going to serve my country and my God every day I can.” He paused and grinned. “Hmm. Sounds kind of hokey doesn’t it.”
“Not at all, Sir,” the younger man replied. “Guess that’s why I’m where I am as well.”
The President smiled. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”
While Chet was high up the food chain, he was not the chief of the Secret Service. He was, however, the one man who Juan and Priscilla had decided they could confide in. As usual, Priscilla took the lead. The salt-and-pepper-haired Hispanic was smart, elegant, and had a pleasantly disarming personality that allowed her to fit in with just about anyone, anywhere. She had simply engaged the different senior security personnel in casual conversations, chatting with them over the course of several weeks. Among many topics, she’d drop in a question about their favorite wines. Not that drinking disqualified a person from consideration, but all too many of the agents gave such detailed answers that it appeared they drank to excess.
She also asked what they would do if they won a lottery. She immediately took a liking to Chet, who answered that he didn’t gamble. He did say, though, that if he suddenly came into a large amount of money, he would tithe and give an additional amount of money to several key ministries he and his wife supported. Then he’d pay off their mortgage and save the rest for some things the two of them had wanted to do for years.
Priscilla was impressed. “Hmm. ‘In all your ways acknowledge him…’ ”
“ ‘…and He will make your paths straight,’ ” Chet had finished without skipping a beat.
So, Juan and Priscilla discretely invited him to an informal chat, which turned out to be so much more.
“Sir, I guess I’d look for those who have paid a price.”
“Paid a price? Paid a price. Hmm.” the President had repeated. Like the Vice and the Speaker. That’s why I trust them. “Yes. Jesus said to count the cost.”
“I know some Marines and a few Sailors I’d trust with my life. Some of our detail, actually most of them, as well. I’m not saying someone has to be a Christian to be trusted, and I’m sure we both know a lot of folks claiming to be Christians who I wouldn’t trust to pick up my mail. Like I say, Sir, if it came down to it, I’d look for men and women who’ve been willing to put it on the line.”
That had certainly been the case during an earlier administration where Christians in uniform, especially senior officers, were intentionally passed over for promotions. One officer, just to test the system, quoted verbatim a prayer from General George Washington at an official function. The result? She was threatened with an Article 15. Garcia also thought of one of his generals who had been held back because of his convictions, until Juan became president and promoted him.
“Mr. President?”
“Sorry, Chet. Just thinking about all we’ve been through the past weeks. Yes, I’m sure. And thank you. Thanks for your witness, friendship, counsel, prayers, and concern. I’m proud to be in this with you.”
The younger man blushed. “Thank you, Sir,” was all he could say.
+ + +
Friday, 0730 EST:
“Okay, that’s it. Time’s up.”
No more discussions, no more waiting. Roger knew it was time to go. Like that Saturday evening many months—it seemed like years—ago, when he was lowered into Guardian to try an impossible intercept, he knew he was going home. It was time to make sure that he and the aircraft would never be a menace to others while he still was able to make that call.
Roger crawled toward the aircraft. No pressure suit needed for this one last flight. He looked around. No, nothing else he needed to take with him either. Once the aircraft cleared the hangar, everything else would eventually “change back”—much to the confusion and consternation of many. Probably be a TV show made about it one day, with experts speculating that Grand Forks had housed aliens.
Sweat poured from his forehead. He wiped his eyes and rolled onto his back, exhausted. Just a few feet to go. And at Mach Ten, less than an hour.
Another wave of pain engulfed him. He rolled to his side, pulled into a fetal position and passed out.
After what seemed an eternity, Roger awoke, feeling somewhat revived. The pain wasn’t quite as bad, and the cold sweat had ended, although his jumpsuit was soaked.
He crawled the rest of the way to the fuselage, grabbed the extended ladder rungs resolutely, and climbed up. Power on, retract ladder, close canopy, and start the engine. The datalink connection installed in the hangar door engaged and the door opened.
Roger took a few moments to send one last message on the secure link to Justin, Tamika, and Karen:
“Friends, I love you all. I’m looking forward to seeing my wife and kids soon, and each of you again one day. I’m leaving the telemetry link active so Justin can know our final location and respond accordingly, whatever that would be. I’ll try to set down easy so I don’t cause a catastrophe. I’ll go as far as I can into the wilderness in case I go in rough and set off what Karen calls a ‘transitional event.’ I’m trying to fly clear of populated areas and won’t go near any large bodies of water where I could set off a tsunami if I crash.”
He gunned the engine and rolled out the open door, onto the taxiway toward the end of the runway.
“Sorry I couldn’t hold out any longer. But I don’t want to be responsible for thousands of deaths. So that’s it. Now I’ve got to try to stay co
nscious and fly this thing. I’m out. Maranatha! Send.”
The aircraft cleared the runway with fully two-thirds left to go. Roger raised the gear, pointed the nose up at forty-five degrees, and lit the SRBs. The thrust slammed him back in his seat as the aircraft streaked into the clear, cold morning air. The magnets were sixty percent towards superconductive…
+ + +
Friday, 0850 EST:
Justin and Tamika, along with PDI’s test pilot Tim Cason, watched as Guardian System Two was carefully rolled into the C-17 and secured. It was quite an event. The ultra-classified aircraft was completely covered in tarps and transported by a wide-load semitrailer truck. At the air base, the semi backed up to an open hangar. Crews removed the tarps and rolled the aircraft down a ramp into the hangar. The semi drove off, and in its place, a C-17 backed up to the hangar, whereupon crews rolled System Two up into its cargo bay.
The transfer had been meticulously orchestrated so no overhead satellites could get a glimpse of the aircraft. With even commercial satellites now able to read license plates from low orbit, neither DPI nor the government was taking any chances. Flight testing would be another matter, but the aircraft’s ultra-stealth radar coatings and active optical camouflage would be operational at that point.
+ + +
Friday, 0920 EST:
Woods everywhere.
He had tried. God knows, he had tried. Roger had screamed across Saskatchewan, the top of Alberta, continued across the Northwest and Yukon Territories, then into Alaska’s airspace. His goal was to gently set down into the Brooks Range, but the shakiness, tunnel vision, pain and profound weakness screamed that he’d never make it.
It’s better to set down here in one piece than to make a crater trying to go farther.
He had already pulled back on the throttle and dropped down to 30,000 feet. As his speed dropped below Mach One, the scramjet flamed out and the ion drive disengaged. At 10,000 feet and 400 knots, he began lazy S-turns, throttled back the turbojet, and began looking for a suitable clearing in the trees.
At least I’m well clear of villages and towns.
At 5,000 feet, he chose the most promising real estate and pulled the turbojet down to idle while slowly circling and losing more altitude.
If I can just set down without initiating the transition effect, I’ll open the canopy. Should freeze to death within minutes, even with my strange metabolism.
Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to wipe them to keep his vision clear. They were tears of joy.
He shouted. “Finally…finally, I’m going home. Jesus, Cindy, Frank, Susan; I’m coming home!”
He was mostly at peace, but not quite. One final, critical task lay before him. He turned from base to his final approach, dropping below 1,000 feet and steady at 140 knots. His heart dropped as he realized that the clearing he was aiming for was anything but! Yes, it was the only area clear of trees, and there was still enough snow to do a gear-up landing. But then he saw the boulders everywhere rising out of the snow. He was physically too far gone to climb out and try to find a frozen stream somewhere to slide in on.
In the end, the lack of a decent landing option was moot. The tightness that gripped his abdomen instantly turned into another massive cramp. He doubled over in the most intense agony he’d ever experienced. He felt the plane yaw and bank, and there was nothing he could do about it. Absolutely nothing.
+ + +
Friday, 1145 EST:
Justin and Tamika each shook Tim Cason’s hand and wished him well. They were exhausted from their six-month marathon to bring the second Guardian hypersonic interceptor to this final stage. Tim’s hours had been much more bearable, as his priorities were to continue studying and spending time in the Simulator. Now, Justin and Tamika were looking forward to a break in their schedule, while the retired Navy aviator would be the one pulling sixteen to eighteen-hour days.
Tim entered the cargo aircraft, the ramp was raised, and ground support equipment pulled the massive aircraft out onto the tarmac.
“Well, there goes my baby,” said Justin as he again wiped his brow.
“Getting nostalgic? I think the next line is, ‘there she goes now,’ ” Tamika quipped.
They hugged, sighed, and held each other for a full minute. Justin gently stroked her hair.
“Well, we’ve done all we can at this point. You hungry?” he asked. The noon summer sun and humidity had them looking forward to sweet tea and air conditioning.
“Starved!” She grinned.
+ + +
Friday, 1530 EST:
It was a beautiful Space Coast day for a drive to the beach and some fresh seafood, and Justin thoroughly enjoyed every air-conditioned minute of it. He remarked to Tamika how nice it was to have a “real” server bring their food—fresh grouper and a basket of shrimp—rather than grabbing something from the customary digital kiosk at a deli.
Pleasantly full, he drove her to the beach for a mandatory barefoot walk in the fine, white sand along the waterline. The two of them laughed like children as together they chased and then ran away from the endless waves. Justin inhaled the warm salt air and marveled at how such a simple act of enjoying a piece of God’s creation could restore the soul. Then he surprised her with a quick drive to an area with several blocks of novelty shops that she thoroughly enjoyed browsing through. Mid-afternoon they cooled down with some frozen yogurt—and time seemed to stand still.
Finally, they headed back to his apartment. Justin glanced at the lovely young lady beside him in his open convertible. The afternoon had been perfect, and all the tension and stress of the previous months and recent days had been replaced with a sense of peace. All Justin was thinking about now was the world-class steak he was going to prepare for dinner.
Justin smiled. A great start to a few days off.
While Cliff had been strangely aloof during construction of System Two, he insisted on taking over the test phase out west. He also instructed Justin and Tamika to take some well-earned and much needed time off. They didn’t argue.
The Friday afternoon traffic on I-95 wasn’t too heavy yet, but Justin knew he and Tamika still had a lot to discuss. He engaged Auto-Drive and set the exit number on the car’s touchscreen. The car automatically navigated to the far-left AD Lane, data-linking with other Auto-Drive vehicles and increasing the speed to ten miles per hour beyond what “manually driven” cars were allowed. For the next twenty minutes or so, Jason relaxed and devoted his full attention to the lovely woman beside him. A woman he was falling more and more in love with each and every day.
Their conversation was light but purposeful, planning what they would do over the next week. Justin’s ulterior motive was to figure out how to get her over to her favorite jewelry store. He already had his short speech memorized, but—
An unusual alarm sounded, screaming urgency. Justin looked at the touchscreen. A skull-and-crossbones icon indicated an active, hostile cyber attack. Instinctively, Justin disengaged Auto-Drive. At first, the system appeared to refuse to disengage. Then the Auto-Drive light blinked off and the car lurched violently to the right. They were fortunate that no car was in the lane next to them. Justin quickly pulled all the way over to the far right-hand lane.
“What’s that?” Tamika asked.
“See that column there to the right?” he pointed to the pop-up window on the right side of the screen, then turned his attention back to the road. “Read everything you see.”
“Okay… ‘Attack unknown. Source unknown. Systems at risk: Speed, steering, brakes. Severity: forty percent. Wait, fifty percent...sixty... Recommended action: Power down. Urgent!’”
Justin was already taking the next exit ramp, going well above the posted speed limit. After a quick glance to the left, he ran the stop sign and turned right. He wheeled into the nearest service station, then cut the ignition and removed the key.
He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, even as his entire body shivered. Staring in disbelief at the steerin
g wheel, he let out a long, slow breath.
“What in the world just happened?” Tamika asked quietly. “I’m not up on all the latest technology, but I don’t think that particular antivirus routine—or whatever that was—comes standard with Auto-Drive. Not even as Beta…?”
“My love, someone just tried to kill us.”
“What do you mean?” She held his arm and smiled. But her smile quickly vanished when she saw the expression on his face. “Wait, that wasn’t a bug, or some random hack?”
“Tamika…I’m serious. Someone just deliberately tried to kill us. I’ve overlaid my car’s software with NSA-level security. More mundane stuff and we wouldn’t have even been notified of an attack. This was, like, spy-level stuff. If I hadn’t been able to disengage Auto-Drive...”
“Matthews.”
“Yep.”
53. FRIDAY EVENING
Friday, 1600 EST:
“You’re…you’re all here!”
“Hi, Sweetheart.” the beautiful redhead gushed, looking a healthy thirty-three.
“Dad!” smiled two other adults, each also looking a healthy thirty-three. The man had light brown hair and brown eyes, and a darker complexion like Roger’s. The woman’s hair was strawberry blonde, and her lighter complexion matched that of her mother, standing beside her.
Their garments were wispy robes that shimmered all the colors of a rainbow, and somehow more.
“You’re here…” Roger stammered again and immediately knew where “here” was.
There was no clear up, down, left, or right. They seemed to be firmly suspended in white nothingness, although he could see figures in the distance, and knew that he was near some kind of destination.
The Guardian Collection (End of the Sixth Age Book 2) Page 27