Barrington was driving along Interstate 90, getting close to the exit he and Lenox needed to get to on their way to Albany. He could see the city just ahead, its skyscrapers reaching for the rain clouds high above. Whether it was due to the rain or just because of plain despair, most of the people on the highway just sat in their vehicles.
Not all of them did, however. As they passed a car in the ditch, Lenox clearly saw a man raise something as he screamed at them when they passed by. He didn’t hear what the man called out, but something smacked into the back end of the truck.
Barrington glanced in the rearview mirror, feeling horrible. “Man, we can’t stop now.” He was certain that was all the man had wanted and was just frustrated when no help appeared to be forthcoming.
“We’re almost there,” Lenox assured his friend. “You know we can’t help every one. Just get to your apartment building and we’ll go from there.”
They got to the exit ramp and pulled onto Interstate 787. It was just a short mile from there to Clinton Street, which was the first exit into Albany. Western Ave was a few blocks from there. Lenox frowned as he turned his head.
“Pull over,” he said.
Barrington glanced at him, knowing the exit was just ahead of them. “What…?”
“Just do it.”
With hesitation, Barrington pulled the truck over. Once they were on the shoulder, Lenox got out and in the rain, he slowly walked up to the railing. He looked down toward Clinton street, just in time to see a few men disappear behind a building as they ran up the street. He was certain those men had been armed with weapons.
Barrington got out of the truck, looked around to see if anyone was near to cause trouble and then he joined Lenox at the railing. “What’s going on?”
“Do you hear that?” Lenox asked.
“No, I…” Barrington stopped.
There it was. A volley of gunfire. Lenox looked at the stopped vehicles on 787 and for the first time, he didn’t see much movement. Most of the vehicles appeared to be empty, but there were some frightened people in a few of them. They were making no moves to exit their cars.
Lenox shook his head. “We’ve got to get down there.”
Barrington agreed. “Yeah…yeah, get back in and-”
“Just drive. I’ll take the back.” Lenox climbed into the back of the truck and positioned himself behind the front. He withdrew his weapon, checked to make certain it was loaded and then, nodded to his partner. “Come on! Let’s go!”
Barrington climbed back in behind the wheel and pulled back onto the road. He drove down the exit ramp and onto Clinton Street. Almost immediately, two men charged out of an alley with automatic weapons. They didn’t even aim. They simply moved toward the truck and opened fire. Barrington slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, bringing the Ford’s right side toward the armed men.
For his part Lenox just stayed low on the floor and waited as the truck finally stopped. Bullets went right over his head as many of them blasted through the truck. He had no idea why none of them hit him, but silently thanked his fortune as the enemy finally stopped shooting. Barrington was no longer in the cab of the truck as he had bailed out of it and was now on the ground with his back against the front tire. His gun was held firmly in one hand, and Canaan’s Bible was in the other.
The two terrorists stopped firing and listened for any signs of someone surviving the attack. They heard nothing but the pounding of their own hearts in their ears. They were on an adrenaline rush. All they cared about was killing Jews and Americans. They knew there had been a driver, so they concentrated on that. They began to move, separating themselves as one intended to move around the back of the truck and the other intended to go around the front.
Lenox didn’t give them a chance to move. He came up from his position and fired four rounds. One of them went down with a look of surprise on his face, but the second tried to level his weapon at Lenox and return fire. That’s when Barrington came up from the front of the truck and fired the killing round that brought the terrorist down.
Lenox climbed out and joined Barrington at the bodies. Lenox noted the Bible in his friend’s hand, and chose not to comment about it. His eyes scanned the area for signs of more of the enemy, but sporadic gunfire could be heard throughout the city. Some of it was close.
“I never thought I’d see the day when…when this would happen in our streets,” Barrington replied, looking down at the dead terrorists.
No one was moving on Clinton Street that Lenox could see. Anyone who had been around must have gone into hiding once the shooting began. There was no power anywhere. No lights emanated from the buildings around them. No vehicles were moving. There were no sounds other than the gunfire, distant screams and the rain.
Lenox picked up one of the fallen weapons the terrorists had been using and checked the bodies for ammunition. The weapon was a Russian AK-47. Lenox put his own weapon back into its holster in exchange for the automatic one. “Take the other one,” he told his partner.
Barrington shook his head. “Nah. I’m good.” But he wasn’t good. He suddenly felt nauseous. For the first time in his life, he knew what life and death truly meant. He had heard his wife quote to him many times, "’And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.’ 1” Two men had just been killed and he knew they were facing judgment now. He knew they would be tormented for all eternity because they had never accepted Christ as he had.
He looked down at his gun that he was holding in his hand and wondered how he could possibly take another man’s life again knowing he would be sending them to eternal torment.
Lenox reached down and took the second AK-47. He put the strap around his shoulder so that the rifle was on his back. “I’ll take it, then,” he said. “Let’s cut through the alley.”
Barrington nodded, but remained silent.
Leading the way and concerned about the stability of his friend, Lenox headed into the alley. He was more than ready to do what needed to be done should they encounter the enemy along the way, but was worried that Barrington was not.
Clearly there was nothing wrong with the DVD player. Because of the generators, the Bunker was still equipped with power. That was a good thing, William Fronk decided, because with the sun hiding from the rain, the solar panels weren’t going to do the trick. Still, because of the EMP pulse, there were certain appliances that no longer worked and had to be replaced.
The DVD player he had working wasn’t one of them, and neither was the TV it was hooked up to. So Fronk sat in the living room in the farmhouse and kept his eyes focused on the television. The only reason he did this was because he wanted desperately to block out the real world from his subconscious mind. He wanted to go away deep within himself and forget the real world.
On the screen, the castaways were gathering at the lagoon. It was actually a beach in the first black and white episode. They had the raft ready to go and Mary Ann and Ginger had brought Hawaiian style lei’s out to the men. They put one around the Skipper’s neck and also one around Gilligan’s neck.
“Well, how very nice, ladies,” replied the Skipper, trying to be gallant. “Just wonderful!” He paused for effect. “Just about all I can say is ‘Aloha Nui Oi’. That’s Hawaiian for, ‘Till we meet again’.”
“Aloha Nui Oi,” Fronk repeated softly, staring at the tv.
“I learned a little Hawaiian,” Ginger replied to the others. “When I was singing in a club in Waikiki. ‘Wahni wiki huki loki nu’, and every word of it comes from the bottom of my heart.”
“Bill, I…” Fuller began as he walked in, but he stopped in the doorway when he saw the look on Fronk’s face. He turned his head and noticed the program on the television.
“Gee, that’s real nice, Ginger,” Gilligan said happily. “What does it mean?”
“This bar is off limits to all military personnel.”
Fronk repeated softly, “Wahni wiki huki loki nu.”
“Bill,” Fuller said, trying to get the younger man’s attention.
The Skipper began to give orders. “Well, come on, Gilligan, it looks like we’re ready to shove off! Hoist the anchor, let go of the stern line!”
The Skipper and Gilligan began to paddle the raft away from the shore, but unfortunately, they didn’t get very far. They continued their frantic rowing without even realizing that Gilligan had failed to hoist the anchor.
Frustrated, Fuller turned the television off and sternly faced Fronk. “What the devil are you doing in here, William? Do you think it’s more important to watch some ridiculous, outdated sitcom than it is to help in the survival of our country?”
Fronk looked up at him. “What do you suppose I do, Rocky? Pull a rabbit out of my hat?” Even though he sounded just like Bullwinkle as he said it, the sarcasm behind it was barely suppressed rage.
“As a matter of fact, I do!” snapped Fuller.
Fronk sighed. “Well, I can’t, Skipper. I have no more hats left! We can’t fight an EMP. It’s already hit, and the damage is done. You can’t fix what’s been damaged. Everything affected by it has got to be replaced.” He shook his head. “That will take months, and you know it.”
“You can start by rebuilding a new computer, can’t you?”
“With what?”
“Don’t give me that! We’ve got plenty of computer components stored below, and some of them may not have been affected.”
Fronk sighed again. “And if I build one, what then?”
“There’s got to be some satellites out in space and if anyone can talk to them, it’s you.”
“Oh, it just has to be me, does it?!”
Fuller glared. “What’s gotten into you? Snap out of it, William. I mean it. I don’t care what it is you’ve got to do to get out of your trauma, but I’m ordering you to just do it!”
Fronk rose to his feet and tossed up his hands. “Fine! I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
“Sure. Okay. Yeah.” He scowled. “We’ll just do whatever it is that you want to do, Drill Sergeant!” With that, he turned and abruptly stormed out of the living room. He stomped his way up a set of stairs, which led to the second floor where his room was located. On his way there, he detoured to a room across the hall. There had been someone who was going to stay in the room and yet since he had been one of those whom had vanished, Fronk didn’t think the man would mind if he borrowed some of his things. Namely the man’s Bible.
It was lying on a desk, open as if the man had been reading from it. Since there were clothes in the chair, Fronk had to assume that’s what he had been doing when he got caught up in the air. Well, Fronk was mad to have been left behind, even though he understood it was his fault. Now he had to do something about it. It was either fall into despair and become useless, or it was to follow Fuller’s orders and snap out of it.
He picked up the Bible and closed it, but he left his thumb in it where it had been open. Where else to begin reading than where his friend had left off? He cleared his throat and glanced up toward the ceiling.
“Erick…I’m, ah…going to borrow this for a while.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind.” He waited, as if he thought he would get a response. When none came, he walked into his room with the Bible and sat at his own desk. He turned on a lantern he had there and opened the Bible to where Erick had had it open.
He laid it down reverently, looking over the words printed there and wondered where he should start. Almost immediately, a notation on the left of the Bible in the indentation caught his eye and it simply read; Prayer. Lines were drawn from the word to verses 5 through 8 of Matthew 6. Beneath those verses, Erick had written, See Luke 18:10-14.
“Well…this should be simple, right?” Fronk leaned over the pages and cleared his throat. Softly, he spoke the words as he read them. “’And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corner of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet…’” He stopped and turned his head to the side, glancing over at his closet. The door was ajar. He continued to read, “’…and when thou has shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.’” He considered the words carefully.
Prayer must be a big deal with God. Something very important, and personal.
“’But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions as the heathens do: for they think they shall be heard for their much speaking.’” He snorted. “I’ve met some of those heathens. ‘Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.’” He let out a sigh, giving the matter serious consideration. “Well, I guess this means You already know I need to be saved.”
He flipped through the Bible until he found the next passage about prayer. Reading from Luke 18, verses 10 through 14, he said, “’Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I beseech thee, that I am not as other men are,’ - Well, good for you. You must be special! - ‘extortioners,’ - Met a few. - ‘unjust,’ - Like it when Knox beats them up, tell you what! - >‘adulterers…’ He made a face. “Okay. Now I know Knox is in trouble with that one! ‘…or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week…’” He shook his head. “What does that mean? How does one fast? ‘…I give tithes of all that I possess. And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.’”
After he read it, he pushed it aside, leaned back and thought about it. He wanted to be serious about this and that was hard for him. His coping mechanism in life had always been humor. Playing the clown. Pushing the envelope. Driving other people crazy.
This time, however, he felt a stirring within his soul. Someone was trying to get his attention and he had an idea who that Someone was.
He found himself looking at the closet door.
Then, he got up, pulled the door open the rest of the way and went into his closet. He closed the door, knelt down and took a deep breath. Without looking up to heaven and with all of his heart, he smacked himself in the chest with a closed fist. Not hard, but just enough to make a whack.
Then, he said, “God…be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Outside the closet, Director Fuller came into the doorway of Fronk’s room. “William…?” He paused. He thought he had heard something, but when he didn’t see Fronk anywhere in the room decided it was nothing.
He turned to go and that’s when the closet door slammed open so hard, it made him jump. Fronk came out of the closet, hooting and a hollering to the heavens. This also made Fuller jump.
“William!” he exclaimed. “Stop that shouting! Have you lost your mind?”
Fronk turned to look at him and as if seeing him for the first time in years, he grabbed Fuller by the arms and pulled him close. “Skipper! It’s you!”
Fuller tried to push him back. “What’s gotten into you now? Stop trying to hug me!” When he managed to stand on his own, he said, “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in your closet?”
Fronk pulled him close again and brought his face closer to Fuller’s. He put a finger to his lips. “Sssh! No. It’s a secret…” A big grin spread across his face. “I can’t tell you.”
Amazed and concerned at this new change in Fronk, Fuller watched him as he bounced out of the room and down the hall. Fuller shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I think I’ve pushed him over the edge.”
Staci stopped at Kate’s door and hesitated. What if she was wrong and she would find both Kate and April inside? She placed her ear to the door and listened. There wasn’t a sound she could hear from inside the apartment. It was eerily silent, causing goose bumps to rise on Staci’s arms. Why do we call such things goose bumps? she wondered. She involuntarily shivered.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
It was as she expected deep in her heart. There was no response.
She felt sad. She needed to find the answers, but was certain she wouldn’t be able to because surely the door would be locked. Since she had no other course of action before her, she tried the door…and it opened. It wasn’t locked. Hesitating anyway, she slowly opened the door and remained in the doorway.
“Kate…?” Staci called out.
Nothing but silence greeted her.
She opened the door all the way and stepped into the apartment. “Kate?” she tried again. “Are you here?”
Again, nothing but silence was her only response.
Staci gathered up her courage and closed the door behind her. She slowly made her way through the apartment, looking for signs of where Kate and April might have been when the Rapture occurred. The answer was in the kitchen. A bowl was set on the counter with an open carton of eggs and milk beside it. A whisk stirring utensil was inside the bowl as if Kate had been stirring the contents within. Right at the floor in front of the counter where she would have been standing was a pile of clothes and some jewelry.
Staci put her hand to her mouth, almost dizzy from her discovery. “Oh, Kate…”
She turned her head and there on one of the chairs at the table were April’s clothes.
It only drove into Staci’s heart her own shortsightedness at not having seen the truth earlier. Her friend’s were gone. She had been left behind. She slumped to the floor and let the tears come. This time, she couldn’t stop them, but even as she cried, she vowed to be stronger than this when it was all done. She so very much wanted to be like her sister.
Then, as thoughts of her sister came into her mind, she cried harder.
Nichole had always been trying to tell her this day would come. It made her wonder what her sister had been doing when she had been caught up.
Staci sat on the floor and just let it out. Through her tears, she pleaded with God to forgive her. She mostly pleaded with her heart, because when she tried to speak, it only came out as a muffled and choked up, “I’m so sorry!”
Her thoughts were like, I’m so weak, God. I need You to help me be strong. I know I’ve been ignoring You for so long and I'm so sorry. I didn’t understand, but I didn’t try hard enough to try to see You. God, please save me. Help me find You. And, God, please…please tell my son…and my sister that I love them so very much, and I miss them so terribly. But I know they’re with you. I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself right now. Please forgive me.
She cried some more.
After a while, however, when her tears were all spent, she slowly got back to her feet. Wiping at her face, she took another look around the kitchen. Kate’s Bible wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She moved about the apartment, looking for that Bible she desperately needed to find. Oh, she owned a Bible in her own apartment, but it didn’t have notes like Kate’s did. She also knew that Kate’s Bible would be somewhere in plain sight. It wouldn’t be hid. It would be obvious.
Staci found it in the den Kate shared with her husband, Albert. It was on the desk in front of the computer. As if it were a lifeline, Staci grabbed the Bible and took it into the living room. It seemed there was more light in the living room. Kate had a love for candles and some had been lit. The living room smelled like lavender and lilac and as Staci sat down in the recliner, it made her think of Kate.
She began to flip through the pages of Kate’s well used Bible. There were notes every where in the margins. Notes on repentance, judgment, peace and just about every topic she was aware of. Even some she wasn’t. When she found notations on the Rapture, she began her first earnest study of God’s Word. She was bound and determined to get the answers she needed to have and prayed silently as she studied. She wanted to be ready to help Sherri when she was able to.
As she studied, Sherri continued to wait in Staci’s apartment.
When Sherri heard the knock on the door, she assumed it was Staci returning. “I’m coming!” she called out.
Sherri wiped at her eyes and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she went to the front door and opened it. Two men were there to greet her, but it wasn’t a greeting she expected or wanted. As soon as the door opened, they barged their way inside and grabbed her. As one closed the door, the other slammed her against the wall with a knife pressed to her throat.
“Scream and you die,” he growled. “Understand?”
His accent was thick.
Sherri nodded.
“Where is the doctor?”
She frowned. “The doctor…?”
“The woman doctor! Dr. Cohen!”
She realized they were looking for Staci. There was no way she was going to help them, so she prayed that God would keep Staci away. “Sh-she’s not here,” She replied fearfully. “She won’t be home until late…”
“Who are you?”
“I-I’m the babysitter.”
The man nodded at his compatriot who went through the apartment to search for a child the woman claimed to be babysitting. When he came back, he shook his head. “There is no baby. The infidel is lying!”
The terrorist with the knife glared at Sherri. “Why do you lie?”
Sherri couldn’t believe they didn’t know about the Rapture. She almost laughed. “You don’t know? The baby is gone! He was taken.”
“Taken by whom?”
“By God.”
The man stared at her. Then, without warning, he slapped her. “You speak blasphemy and for that, you will die.”
Sherri looked into his eyes, marveling at the courage she wasn’t aware she had, even as her face stung from the blow. “Go ahead. Kill me. I’ll go to a far better place where you won’t be.”
In anger, the man shoved her to his partner. “We'll wait for the doctor to return. Then…you both shall die.” He pointed his knife at her for emphasis.
Sherri allowed herself to be led back into the living room where she was forced to wait with terrorists for her execution. All she could think about was how much prayer she has been able to learn since David had disappeared from her arms. Prayer was the only thing she could do and not even the presence of two hateful terrorists could ever change that.
Darwyn didn’t care about the rain as it poured on him from the heavens, but it did seem to add to the despair he suddenly felt as he heard the sounds of gunfire. It came from all around, within the city of Albany. All he had to do was simply stand there and listen as the cell he had been preparing for this day went about performing their mission. To attack American citizens in the streets. To kill without mercy. To slay the enemy and reap the rewards in the afterlife.
Only the afterlife would not be so rewarding to them, he now realized. He himself had been blind for so long, even though for years his heart had been yearning for more. Now that he finally was able to see the truth and be free from the lies he had once held so dear to him, he realized he had to pay for his crimes. He had to turn himself in to the proper authorities. However, those proper authorities had their hands full at the moment and would most likely have him shot on sight.
He felt there should be something he could do. He was now a child of God, a sinner saved by grace, but did that excuse him from the crimes he had committed as a terrorist? He hardly believed so. He had to pay for those deeds he had done in the name of his false god. He had to repay his debt to Nichole Parkhurst first. Dr. Staci Cohen was in danger. He was the only one who could save her now.
He ran through the streets, desperately trying to ignore the cries of the innocents who were pleading for their lives. He dodged behind a truck as several people raced by, frantic to flee from the mad gunmen in the streets. Darwyn let them pass by and then hurried on his way. He suddenly came face to face with one from his cell who leveled a weapon at him. The terrorist would have pulled the trigger, but he recognized Darwyn as his leader.
He raised his weapon. “For Allah!” he exclaimed.
Darwyn just looked at him and then, went by him, quickening his pace. Ahead of him, a volley of bullets caused him to take cover. He dove onto the pavement as the bullets came, taking down the terrorist he just passed. He dragged himself over to the curb of the sidewalk and used the cover of a parked car to shield himself from gunfire. When it stopped, he risked a look from around the bumper.
Two uniformed officers were grouped with two men at the entrance of an alley. The police officers were not what concerned him. The two men were. He recognized them as ATD agents from dossiers he had been given. He was fairly certain that if he had dossiers on them, then there was a good chance they had one on him as well. He knew almost everything about them. He knew their names were Michael Lenox and Albert Barrington. He knew that Lenox was single, but Barrington had a family. He knew where they lived, and where they worked.
He also knew he couldn’t afford running into them now. What he read about Lenox had him convinced the man would simply kill him the second Darwyn crossed his path.
He saw that the men were not giving his area any consideration, so he prayed it was because they hadn’t seen him. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t soon enough. Quickly, he kept as low as he could and crawled back to the rear of the car. Then, he made his way over to the corner of a building at an intersection and took another street away from the agents. As he ran, he was unaware that across the street, he was being watched by his brother, Youmud.
Youmud had followed Darwyn from the warehouse and was feeding his anger about his older brother’s treachery. Keeping out of sight from the enemy, he trailed Darwyn, looking forward to executing him with the Jewish doctor. He knew that’s where he was going and knew the best time to strike would be then.
There was only one thing he hadn’t counted on.
As he tried to follow his brother, someone was calling his name. Angered by this interruption, he stopped and looked around, trying to locate the source. A man was standing in the doorway of a coffee shop, partly in shadow.
Getting out of the rain, Youmud entered the shop as the man backed away from the door to give him room to enter. The terrorist leveled his weapon at the man until he recognized who had been calling for him.
It was Bollinger.
Slowly, Youmud lowered his weapon, even though it would have given him great satisfaction to pull the trigger and kill this American traitor. “What is it you want?” he growled.
“There are some agents out there who would really love to meet you,” Bollinger replied casually.
“What is that to me? I have an urgent matter to take care of.”
“Believe me, the Anti-Terrorist Division of the FBI is an urgent matter. These guys have been trying to track you down since after 9 - 11.” He paused. “Look, I know these guys, alright? I’ve worked with them. They’re good at what they do. And Lenox is crazy, man. You don’t want to mess with him.”
Youmud glared at him. “This is wasting my time.” He wanted to catch up to his brother and catch him with Staci. “What do I have to do with this? They will not stop what is happening.”
“Yeah, but…if you took them out, it would really put quite the feather in your cap…If you know what I mean.”
Youmud frowned. “Wait…You said Lenox?”
He nodded. “That’s right. From the ATD.”
Youmud wanted to spill his brother’s blood, but even he couldn’t resist striking at agents of the ATD. Especially agents who had successfully stopped several terrorists’ attacks throughout the years. “What is it you propose to do?” he asked.
Bollinger smiled as he put his arm around Youmud as if they were the best of friends. “It’s simple. I’ll distract them…and you kill them.”
Youmud returned the smile. He didn’t like it when Bollinger put his arm around him, but he did like the idea the man had.
1 - Hebrews 9:27
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