Rapture Advent of the Last Days

by Jocolby Phillips

  Christopher was taken aback by the Junoesque figure of the woman walking toward them, from her perfectly coiffed blonde hair and piercing blue eyes to her expensive shoes. It was easy to see why Draven Cross had made her his assistant, but he wondered if there was more to the relationship. Her striking looks caused eyes all across the expansive lobby to track her every step.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I am sure today will be quiet and without incident. Let me introduce you to Agent Mitch McDougal, the head of security for the EU president,” Gemma Sutherland offered calmly.

  Agent McDougal looked like the poster child for guys who did nothing but work in the gym on making their arms bigger, and nothing else. The suit he was wearing looked like it was about to bust at the seams around his biceps while dangling loosely around his seemingly nonexistent legs. A large earpiece topped off the look. “So, Barrett, you’re in charge of the military team,” the agent stated more than asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Christopher agreed.

  “Look, you gents just stay in the shadows, and this will be an easy assignment for you,” Agent McDougal instructed.

  “Not a problem, Mr. McDougal,” Christopher responded.

  Gemma stepped between the two men, offering her hand to Christopher. “Thank you, Major Barrett. Mr. Cross and I will see you later today for our departure.”

  “The pleasure is all ours, ma’am,” Jackson said, bowing deeply at the waist.

  As Christopher watched Gemma Sutherland and Agent McDougal leave for the U.N. General Assembly hall, Jackson and he headed backstage, where they would be positioned while Cross spoke. For the first time since the disappearances, Christopher noticed a buzz of excitement as people moved into the large hall for Draven’s speech.

  Laughing, Christopher said, “You’re always putting on a show, Jackson, the funny guy, Williams. I am guessing that was an English accent you were shooting for back there with Ms. Sutherland.”

  “It would be boring without me around. And I think Agent McDougal doesn’t like Americans. Just sayin’,” Jackson stated with feigned nonchalance.

  “It would seem that way, but we have more important things to worry about today. Just keep your eyes open. I didn’t realize Cross was speaking to the entire U.N. General Assembly. Anything can happen,” Christopher stated, looking concerned.

  * * *

  Draven felt exhilaration coursing through his body. He was lost in his thoughts as the outgoing U.N. secretary-general Maximilian Aguilar of Uruguay read through his biographical information. In a matter of moments, Draven felt that he would steal the hearts and minds of the world. Everything was happening just as the Prince of This World had predicted; humanity as a whole was enthralled by him. Though he expected the outcome promised by his spirit guide, it was still hard to fathom that the U.N. secretary-general had so easily pledged his support for Draven to become the head of the U.N. Of course, in exchange, Aguilar wanted assurances that he would become the next president of Uruguay as well as a hefty “campaign donation,” but Draven saw these things as leverage to use against Aguilar in the future. Draven felt intoxicated by the power in the room and the realization that, by this time tomorrow, he would have achieved his lifelong goal of ruling the world.

  Draven entered the stage to a thunderous ovation from the nations of the world. He received the applause for minutes, basking in the glow before repeating his previous speech regarding the disappearances. He ended the address as guided by the Prince of This World when he exhorted Draven to “bring them to you.”

  “In conclusion, I challenge this great institution to live up to its preamble. For too long, this organization has not unified the world, but rather allowed the strong to dictate conditions for living to the weak. It is time for all of us to unify under the banner of peace and one humanity.”

  Draven finished by saying, “It’s in this spirit of peace that this body and all it represents has inspired me to action. I have personally donated sufficient resources to Israel so that rebuilding their sacred temple can begin immediately as a symbol of my commitment to peace. Additionally, on behalf of the EU, I am proud to announce today that a formal peace process with Israel and its neighbors will begin shortly at the Hague. I hope that the rest of the countries of the world will follow the EU’s lead and let the age of peace on Earth begin in the Middle East today. Thank you for your time and may peace reign on Earth.”

  Christopher watched as the General Assembly of nations stood to their feet and all but formally crowned Draven Cross the ruler of the world.

  “Well, that seals it for me,” Jackson asserted, tongue in cheek. “That guy is the Antichrist. I should just shoot him here and now.”

  “I’m not sure that would be wise. I can say this, though. I have little faith in what I think anymore. Let’s head out to the vehicles. That speech sent chills down my spine,” Christopher said.

  “Yeah, I feel dirty after hearing him speak in person—or maybe it’s just this suit.”

  “More likely the suit. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  As Christopher watched Draven Cross exit the U.N. building, he felt intimidated by the man and fearful for what he perceived Draven might represent. The Holy Spirit, as Christopher now conceded to call the still, small voice, said, “But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” Christopher locked eyes with Draven for only a moment just before the man climbed into his waiting SUV. The look reminded him of a lion stalking its prey on the nature channels.

  “I will ride with you, Major Barrett, if you don’t mind,” Gemma said.

  Still feeling strangely uncomfortable about being so close to Draven, Christopher was startled by what Gemma said. But he replied, “That will be fine. I see Agent McDougal is with Mr. Cross, so all seems well. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll ride up front,” Jackson offered. “You can ride in the back with Ms. Sutherland.”

  As the convoy of SUVs departed to JFK airport, Christopher felt an overwhelming sadness. A chilly late-fall rain only added weight to his mood after listening to Cross speak. The major watched throngs of people cheering and snapping pictures on smartphones in hopes of catching a glimpse of Draven Cross, a man the world knew only on the surface. Draven had promised the world peace after the greatest disaster in recorded history, and it seemed the world was willing to accept this man, no matter the cost.

  “It’s astonishing, the reaction he generates, is it not?” Gemma asked.

  “I would say more disconcerting than anything, ma’am,” Christopher responded flatly.

  “Please, call me Gemma.”

  “Okay, Gemma. What’s the story on Mr. Cross?”

  “Hmm, you’re direct, aren’t you? I would rather not discuss my employer at the moment. I will only say that he is a man who always gets what he wants. Today, it was the world.”

  “The other gentlemen that got into the SUV opposite Mr. Cross…who was that?”

  “Is there not an American idiom that says curiosity killed the cat, Major Barrett?”

  “Please, call me Christopher. And, yes, that expression might be fitting here. But indulge me if you would, Gemma. It’s the military training in me. I always like to understand my surrounding environment.”

  “I heard you were sharp, potentially rash, but perceptive,” Gemma remarked thoughtfully.

  “Who provided you with that assessment?” Christopher asked, curious.

  “Christopher, I work for what is easily the most powerful man in the world. There is little to nothing I cannot find out, if necessary.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but do you think you could answer my question, or will you continue to evade the topic of the mystery man?”

  Gemma grew somber and stared out the window as they drove several blocks, leaving Christopher to sit silently, awaiting her reply. After a while, she said, “He is Evan Mallory, one of the most powerful political and religious influencers in the world.”

  “Why does that name s
ound so familiar?”

  “Evan is the patriarch and chief architect of the twenty-first-century church movement. He began with a small church and built an international brand, the Interfaith Religious Centers. The religious centers, based predominately in major metropolitan areas, drew praise from many due to their power in uniting various religious faiths in one worship complex,” Gemma explained.

  “That makes sense now. I’ve seen that guy with all kinds of politicians the world over. You think he is looking for a job with Mr. Cross?” Christopher wondered aloud.

  “I expect he will be a more frequent visitor, if that answers your question.”

  “It does. But I have one more question, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t believe this will be the last question you will ask, but go ahead.”

  “So what’s your angle with Mr. Cross?”

  “There is a straightforward answer. I have always been nothing more than Mr. Cross’s executive assistant. I was an intern at his large biotech firm near London while I was a student at Oxford. The rest is history, as you Americans say.”

  “I take it you’re not happy with your employment situation?” Christopher probed.

  “I thought the previous question was your last,” Gemma remarked pointedly.

  The convoy slowed, causing Christopher to look out the window and away from the elegant and astute Gemma Sutherland. The vehicles had passed through the security perimeter of JFK airport and were now on the tarmac heading toward Air Force One.

  “Thank goodness, I am saved from further interrogation by our arrival,” Gemma murmured with a laugh.

  Smiling, Christopher replied, “I was just making conversation.”

  As Christopher and Gemma’s SUV pulled up to allow the occupants to disembark, Christopher watched Draven salute a young Air Force officer standing at the bottom of the staircase leading to Air Force One. He thought, What arrogance.

  “A final word of wisdom, Christopher. Fire is useful until you get too close,” Gemma warned. “Meaning, know that Mr. Cross is useful, but there are limits to what you want to know about him. No one is ever who they seem to be, especially Mr. Cross and Evan Mallory.”

  With those words, Gemma quickly went up the staircase, leaving Christopher and Jackson at the bottom on the rain-soaked pavement.

  “How did things go?” Jackson asked. “I am guessing she spilled the beans on old Saint Cross.”

  Chuckling, Christopher answered, “No, she played her cards close regarding our two new acquaintances, Draven Cross and Evan Mallory.”

  “I think I can guess who they are based on Rev’s journal notes. It’s hard to imagine being so close to such evil,” Jackson proclaimed.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” Christopher muttered grimly.

  * * *

  Evan Mallory, at fifty-five years of age, knew star power when he saw it, and Draven Cross reeked of it. He was grateful the man had finally accepted his request to meet with him, but he never would have guessed the meeting would have occurred on Air Force One, en route to meet the president of the United States. Evan knew his only goal today would be departing this meeting as an advisor to Mr. Cross.

  “Evan, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Draven greeted him.

  “Sir, the pleasure is all mine,” Evan responded warmly.

  “So tell me about yourself and how you used religion to amass such respectable wealth and fame. I know the story, but I am always intrigued to hear firsthand accounts.”

  “Gentlemen, would you like anything to drink or eat?” a flight attendant asked before Evan could begin his story.

  “A sparkling water for me,” Draven replied. “Evan, care for anything?”

  “No, I’m just fine,” Evan answered.

  “Hardly. He will have the same,” the EU president told the flight attendant. “I can see the nerves in you, Evan. Trust me, today is going to be a great day for both of us.”

  The flight attendant left to prepare the drinks as Evan shuffled and adjusted his suit in a stately seat across from Draven.

  “Now, please continue,” Draven requested.

  “Yes, sir. My story is a simple one, but I feel it extraordinary at the same time. My father was an English businessman that moved to the U.S. when I was a small boy. He built his small financial consulting firm into, as you likely know, one of the largest in the world. The big break for my father stemmed from religion. When I was around eight years old, we started attending this little community church that was really more of a networking club. My dad told me often, ‘Religious wholesomeness sells in America, Evan.’”

  “I’m sure it helped that your mother comes from a wealthy banking family, but please continue,” Draven said, enjoying the look of surprise cross Evan’s face at his comment.

  “I see you’ve done your homework,” Evan remarked, eyebrows raised.

  “That is why I am the most powerful man in the world. Just continue your story.”

  Draven’s words were definitely more of a command than a request, and Evan was momentarily thrown by the sudden flatness of his tone. “Yes, so, where was I? Oh, yes. I didn’t understand at the time, but my father attended a church full of business and financial leaders with religious beliefs that were surface deep at best. Once I left for college, which was only a formality in my father’s eyes to provide the credibility I’d need to run his business, I had a desire to merge business and religion. I decided if I could sell people on the idea that all one needs from religion is to be charitable and generally decent while tying a business model into that concept, well, I just knew I would have something.

  “Telling people each week and in conferences and books that they were already good, but they just needed to believe, no matter what faith they chose—well, I became a wealthy man,” Evan finished, sitting back in his seat satisfied that he had “sold” his worth to Draven. Stymied by Draven’s silence, he added, “I’m sorry if I was a bit longwinded.”

  Draven finally spoke. “No apologies needed. I think you found the intersectionality of the business world and spirituality a potent combination in this world.”

  “I’m glad my spirit guide told me to reach out to you months ago, but I thought the Prince of This World was wrong when you never responded,” said Evan a bit timidly.

  “How delightful! So you’re familiar with the Prince of This World?”

  “Oh, yes! He is the one that told me to focus on teaching only prosperity and to diminish the difference in various religions and focus on them all pointing to the same God.”

  “Well, to be frank with you, Evan, I had no intention of ever reaching out to you. However, our mutual spiritual advisor told me that it would be profitable for me to extend an invitation to meet. I mean, really…all that drivel about prosperity starting with seeing yourself as prosperous and that goodness comes from providing charity for your fellow man is a balm for the masses, but it’s utter nonsense,” Draven said scornfully, seemingly now disinterested in his guest.

  Evan, embarrassed by Draven’s blunt remarks about his work, was at a loss for words.

  “Come now, Evan. I know you don’t actually believe your own dogma, especially considering you’ve witnessed the scope of the power that the Prince of This World commands,” Draven added, his face mirroring his disbelief. When Evan still failed to speak, Draven emitted a burst of mocking laughter as he realized that Evan did indeed believe in his self-made religious tenets. “This is too great, Evan. I think you have been pushing your silliness around the world for so long that you believe it. Today, however, that stops. You are just fortunate that a real higher power sees value in you that I cannot, and he has assured me that your false religion will be the perfect compliment to my government. Otherwise I would never have given you a second glance,” he stated disdainfully, staring into Evan’s eyes intently.

  Evan was shocked to realize that he felt almost helpless as he sat listening to Draven state unequivocally that he would now serve Draven. Internally, Evan fou
ght against what Draven was expressing; his pride in his own work and fame rose up within him at Draven’s arrogant tone. He struggled, asking himself whether this was indeed the job he wanted, serving the leader of the world? But all the questions in his mind survived only briefly, and he came back to himself just as Draven was summing up his role in the soon-coming government of the world.

  “So it’s settled. You will serve as my image bearer, using your false religion to spread my ideas and concepts on what peace will mean in this new era. I cannot bring peace to the world without people seeing the commonality with their fellow man and living under my control unknowingly. And as much as I don’t believe religion is a real thing, I can see how it has the power to pull large groups of people into a single vision,” Draven commented pragmatically.

  “Excellent, sir. I am grateful and honored to be in your service,” Evan replied, surprised by the subservient tone of his own voice.

  “Now to sharpen my government’s teeth, starting with the largest military prize of them all—the United States military.”

  Something about Draven’s calculating words lit a quiver of unease in Evan’s chest.

  * * *

  As his chief of staff entered his office, President Rodgers was just finishing a conference call with trusted allies in the Pentagon regarding a plan he was about to pitch to Gabriella—a project he’d been working on ever since listening to Draven Cross’s speech a few days ago.

  “Sir, Air Force One has just landed at Andrews, and Mr. Cross is en route via Marine One. Dr. Costa is also waiting outside,” the man informed him.

  “Thanks, please send in Gabriella.”

  Moments later, the president heard his door open and then Gabriella’s greeting. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Hello, Gabriella. I see that our boys took care of Mr. Cross.”

  “Yes, sir, it went as expected. I guess that’s why I am surprised you wanted me to attend your meeting with Mr. Cross.”