Year One
Episode # 3 - The Remnant
“But know this,
that in the last days
perilous times will come…”
- II Timothy 3:1
“He that loveth not knoweth not God;
for God is love.
And we have known
and believed the love that God hath to us.
God is love;
and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God,
and God in him.”
- I John 4:8 & 16
“And it shall come to pass,
that in the place where it was said unto them,
Ye are not my people;
there shall they be called
the children of the living God.
Esaias also crieth concerning Israel,
Though the number of the children of Israel
be as the sand of the sea,
a remnant shall be saved:
For he will finish the work,
and cut it short in righteousness:
because a short work will the Lord make upon the earth.
- Romans 9:26-28
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“Jesus died for every one, not just for those who accept Him.”
- Dr. Staci Cohen
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Prologue
The Maine Directive
He had nothing left but a rundown trailer and a beat-up, old ford that had seen better days. He himself had seen better days but all of the good days were long gone. The land he owned was a small parcel on a beach facing the Atlantic ocean in a location called the Eastern Prom. The Back Cove was only a few short miles to the east and there was a time when he enjoyed visiting there with the tourists.
Each year the tourists came to the vacation hot spots of Maine. When they went to the Back Cove, they would find an elderly black man there, who walked with a limp and expounded tales from Back Cove‘s history. Whether they were stories of the first settlers of Maine or battles along the coast with pirates and cutthroats, people loved to hear them. Craig Moore could spin quite the yarn. The tourists loved him and the locals enjoyed having him around.
He had been retired from the United States Marine Corp for several years and the rest of his own past he wanted to forget. To help him forget he moved to Maine and surrounded himself with people. Back Cove was especially filled with people from just about every walk of life, so Moore made himself known there. The locals and the regular tourists got to know him so well they began to call him “Pa”. Many of the tourists who visited every year came knowing they might be able to find Moore anywhere along the Cove. Because his personality was so dynamic, they looked forward to seeing their “Pa”.
Something happened one year and it made Moore keep to himself. He stayed in his trailer on the beach, living off his retirement in solitude. The tragedy which happened he kept to himself, telling no one. After all, why should he burden anyone with any of his woes? They didn’t need it. And neither did he. Unfortunately he had it and couldn’t get rid of it. It stayed with him, keeping him awake at nights. It kept him from going to the Back Cove. It stole the joy he once had in his heart.
This night was no different.
Seven days ago, the outside world went silent. The cable went out, except for the local stations. The phone lines were also down. Something was wrong. It could be felt in the air. If a lack of communication outside of town wasn’t disconcerting enough, then hundreds of people vanishing all at once was. No one could stop talking about it.
People vanished from their cars, from their jobs, from taking walks. Pregnant mothers lost their unborn children from their wombs. It was said that there was a cook-out at the Baptist Church near the Back Cove and every single person vanished in the blink of an eye. They were all gone. Not one person was spared and Moore himself had stood on the lawn of that church after he had heard about it. He had wanted to see it for himself. All around him, there were tables with food, chairs around the tables, a volley ball net was set up…but there were no people. There were clothes on the ground where those people had been, however…those people were gone.
No one knew what happened, but they had their theories. Because of some of those theories, there had been three suicides in the local area. On the day the vanishings had occurred Moore had been sitting in a lawn chair on the beach and he could have sworn something had fallen from the sky and gone right into the ocean. It had been a speck when he saw it and didn’t think anything of it until he went into town for some basic staples. The whole town was in an uproar. People screaming and carrying on. Accidents in the streets. After he heard of the vanishings and about planes falling from the sky, he wondered if that was what he had seen.
Then, when the outside world went silent, more horrific theories were invented. Was America being invaded? Was it like War of the Worlds? Did aliens exist? Were creatures coming right out of the Atlantic to wreak havoc?
People were now terrified. For the most part, they stayed in their homes as if expecting something more terrible was about to happen.
Moore couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one in Maine who knew what was happening. He stood on the beach overlooking the ocean and took a deep breath. He didn’t want this kind of responsibility. No one should live with this kind of responsibility because sooner or later, it would bring death. Just like it brought death to the man who was lying on the sofa in Moore’s home.
The man had told him what he had seen and who needed to be told. Now Moore was the only one who could bring the message. Moore didn’t want to do it. He had no desire to be the one who carried this kind of message. It carried no hope for the future. It brought nothing but despair.
Moore let out a weary sigh and shook his head. He knew he had no choice. He realized there was no one who could be the bearer of bad news but himself. It had fallen upon him. This was not a cross he wanted to bear but now he had to find the President of the United States of America and tell him what the dead man had told him.
It had been an extremely busy seven days for Director Darren T. Fuller, but he didn’t mind being busy. It was far better to be doing something - especially in a time of crisis - than it was to be doing nothing at all. He felt they were making some progress. The city of Albany was as safe as it could be from the terrorists attacks. Not only were the local law enforcement agencies in full force, but so were the National Guard who were doing their best to help those in need after the recent attacks.
Safe houses were set up for anyone who came seeking refuge. Hospitals, school gymnasiums and shelters were nearly overcrowded, but no one was turned aside. No one was refused. Dry rations and bottled water were given. The best news of all was that reinforcements would soon be on the way. The worst case scenario would be if they didn’t arrive in a timely manner. There were still pockets of violence throughout the streets. Looters were becoming common and innocent people were being taken advantage of.
People were still in shock. It was bad enough they had been attacked by terrorists in a place where no one ever believed such a thing could be possible. It was also bad enough when loved ones were killed in the streets. But there was that other mystery no one could respond to. Why had some of their loved ones simply vanished? That was the greatest shock of all. Most people didn’t know how to deal with it.
Only a few suspected what really happened. Those few realized they were going to have a hard time convincing some people that God had raptured the true church from the world. Others wouldn’t want to believe that the Tribulation was next and it was only going to get worse before it got better.
The Federal Building on North Pearl Street and Clinton Ave was also a temporary safe place for those who needed it and Fuller was back in his office with his staff in the ATD Center. They were all working overtime to do what they could to restore some semblance of order. Power was still a luxury now due to the EMP attack. Fortunately the Federal Building had some generators shielded by heavy walls of concrete. Those generators had some areas working, although not all. They kept power for the people in the shelters and important areas, like where William Fronk was working his magic on the computer he put together from scratch while they were at Bunker Island.
Another accomplishment going for them, Fuller believed, was the Storm Breaker was fully operational. Seven days ago, he thought Keith LeBeau had had it in working order, yet problems soon developed. With the help of Fronk and a young rookie pilot named Jeremy Bandjough, LeBeau finally managed to get the fully armed gunship off the ground and into the air. LeBeau was eager to shoot at something now that it was up causing Fuller to ground him until the man cooled down. Now Storm Breaker was on the rooftop of the Federal Building in Albany, waiting for a mission.
Others were also waiting for a mission. While Albert Barrington busied himself with helping Fronk, Marc Shiva stayed always by the side of Staci Cohen helping her as she saw to those who needed medical help. He carried whatever she needed and followed her throughout the shelter, marveling at her compassion to those in need. She had wanted to go to Albany Medical, but was cautioned by Barrington not to. When she pressed him on it he told her he had a strong feeling she would not be safe at Albany Medical. There still could be terrorists at large and some of them could be after her. They would know she was a doctor at the hospital where Ishmael Musad had died under her care. She was obviously a target. With those warnings, Staci reluctantly agreed to stay. Shiva gladly volunteered to be her assistant until he was needed elsewhere.
Having visited her latest patient, Staci moved to a nearby wall and leaned her back against it. Without realizing she was doing it, she reached her hand up to touch the necklace she was wearing. It had once been her sisters, but after Nichole vanished in the rapture, the necklace was brought to her by a man who had once wanted to kill her. Now he was her brother in Christ, something she could not help but continue to be amazed at. Taking a deep breath, she let her head fall back. “Marc, I’m soo tired.”
Shiva reached into his pack and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her. “Here. You need to sit down and drink this,” he told her.
Wearily, she took the water and opened it. “Thank you.” As she took a sip, she noticed the approach of Bandjough. The young rookie looked to be excited about something. “Hi, J. Where are you off to?”
“I’m heading for the roof, Doc,” he replied, stopping to look at her with his baby blue eyes. Bandjough was the youngest ATD agent on staff, but it was said of his piloting that he was crazier than LeBeau. “I think we’re heading out soon. ‘Bout time, too. Getting a little stir crazy, ya know?”
“I know. Best to keep yourself busy than so you won’t go crazy. Right?”
Bandjough nodded. “Oh, I was told the Director is looking for you guys.”
Shiva clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. We’ll head on up to see him.”
“You guys seen Knox?”
Shiva glanced at Staci. “Come to think of it…I haven’t seen him since we’ve been here. And we got here three days ago with the others.”
Staci tried to keep herself from frowning. “I think he’s been avoiding me for some reason, but…I haven’t seen him.”
Bandjough snorted. “Why would he want to avoid you? Is he crazy or something?”
Shiva scowled at him. When the scowl didn’t work, he cleared his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”
The rookie pilot nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah, alright, I’m going. Later, Fury. Bye, Doc.” He left them, eager to get to the Storm Breaker and take off. He knew LeBeau would be going through a pre-flight check but he hoped to get up there before he had it completed.
Shiva turned to Staci. “Look, I’m gonna try to find Knox. You go ahead. I’ll see you there.”
Staci nodded.
“And, Doc…”
“Yeah?”
Shiva hesitated. “Look, I don’t think Knox is trying to avoid you. Why would you think he was?”
Staci shrugged. “It isn’t important, Marc.”
“Are you sure? You…seem like it’s bothering you.”
She turned her head and smiled wryly. “Marc, I really can’t afford to be bothered by silly things like this now, can I? There’s far more important things to think about and besides…I’ve got Jesus, so I don’t need anyone else. You know what I mean?”
He nodded his head slowly. “Yeah…but, uhm…No. I’m not sure what you mean.”
She was glad he didn’t. She wasn’t sure she even knew what she meant. Why was it that there were men who had some strange effect on her, even during a crisis? It wasn’t like she knew Michael Lenox anyway. As far as she was concerned, there should be no attraction for him. “Good,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you upstairs.”
Leaving Shiva confused Staci headed for the stairwell. She took out her flashlight from her bag and shone it in front of her as she walked into the darkened stairwell. The battery-operated lights had stopped working two days ago. As she tried to keep her head cleared she realized she must have been more exhausted than she had thought. Now she couldn’t get Lenox out of her mind.
He had been avoiding her.
She had tried several times to approach him, but each time she did he made some excuse and went off to only God knew where. She hadn’t even been able to engage in any real conversation with him so it just wasn’t possible she was developing any type of feelings for him.
I am tired, she thought. That must be it.
“God, help me, please,” she prayed softly. “I don’t think there’s time for a relationship with anyone right now anyway. Besides…all I really know about Michael Lenox is he is a womanizer and lost. He needs You…so please help him see You the way I do. Thank You, God. Amen.”
A few moments later, she found her way to Fuller’s office where she found not only Fuller waiting for her, but Barrington as well. They stopped their conversation when she entered through the open doorway. She suddenly felt guilty interrupting them.
“I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I…I was told you needed to see me.”
Fuller reached for the lantern on his desk and raised it above his head so he could get a closer look at her. “I’m sorry, Staci. You must be tired. You have to rest.”
She waved a hand at him dismissively. “No…I’m fine.” She looked from Barrington, then back to Fuller and tried not to look as tired as she felt. “What did you need?”
The two men exchanged glances.
“Come on…Don’t do that. Just tell me.”
Barrington turned to face her. “We need you to come with me…to Maine.”
She blinked. “Maine?” She tried to let it sink in. “Maine…? But…how? And why do you want to get to Maine?” She peered at Fuller. “Darren, I’m needed here. There are injured and sick people who need help.”
“I know someone else who may need your help,” Fuller told her seriously, looking right into her eyes, “and I can’t trust anyone to help him but you.”
Staci was stunned by his commendation. When she was able to speak again, she said, “Who is it?”
Fuller didn’t hesitate. “President Walter J. Ballou.”
She couldn’t believe what she heard. That and everything else she had gone through for the past several days finally caught up with her. Staci collapsed onto the floor and lost consciousness.
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