A few months had passed since the vanishings. A month had passed since the Peace Treaty signing in Israel. And weeks after that, much of the United States of America was once again running on power. Cities were alive again and the lights illuminated the skylines at night. All hostilities for the most part had ended abruptly, although some pockets of terrorism still existed and forced law enforcement agencies and the military to respond with brute force.

President Walter J. Ballou had returned to the White House with a skeleton crew of Secret Service agents around him. Matthew Lambert worked overtime to see to the President’s safety. Every area of ground was checked. Once the White House was secure, they went about the task of getting back to the business of running the country. They were there for a few weeks without any incident.

That incident they were hoping to avoid, however, finally occurred.

Lambert knocked on the door to the Oval Office in the West Wing and opened it ajar. “Mr. President…?” He poked his head into the office.

President Ballou was at his desk, and held a cordless phone to his ear as he waved Lambert to enter. “Not to worry,” he said into the phone. “I believe we’re all set here. We’ll keep our appointment, old friend. With the Lord leading the battle, we’ve already won the war.”

Lambert entered the office and stood before the President’s Office. He heard the man’s side of the conversation and could only assume he was talking to someone about prophetical future yet to unfold. He personally did not adhere to such beliefs, but with what had been happening around the globe, he could not deny that biblical predictions were being fulfilled. He had found a Bible in the desk he was using and had begun to read it. If there really were answers in there, he hoped to find them.

“And Godspeed to you,” Ballou said into the phone. Then, he hung up. “Good evening, Matt. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to fill you in on the daily reports, sir,” Lambert told him. Since the threat against America, President Ballou wanted to be informed on all of the daily activities of the Secret Service men. Lambert gave his report and then added, “Looks like we’ve had exactly two weeks of uneventful days here at the White House, sir.”

“Don’t count on those days to continue to be uneventful, Matt. Things have a way of happening all by themselves, and these days it’s always a revelation.”

Lambert hesitated. “What revelation do you mean, sir?”

“That if man does not get his head out of the sewers, he is going to wind up in a very bad place, where there is always weeping and gnashing of teeth. These last days, my young friend, are also the last wake up call. If no one gets it now, then being left behind will be the least of their concerns.”

The younger man did not know how to respond to that, so he just said, “Yes, sir.”

President Ballou regarded the Secret Service agent. “What will it take to get you to see the truth about God and living in the End Times?”

Lambert shrugged. “Well, sir, all I can say is that He would have to show me something on a personal level. Something that only I would know about.”

“You’re not looking for signs and wonders then?”

“Signs and wonders are all around us, Mr. President. I wonder about them, but I haven’t been moved to decide because of them.”

Ballou nodded. “Because it isn’t personal.”

Lambert nodded once. “That’s right, sir.”

“Well…then, I won’t be too concerned about your soul, Matt. If there’s one thing I know about God, He is a very personal God. He’ll get your attention.”

“Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?”

Ballou waved him on. “That’s all. Have a good night, son.”

Lambert tipped his head. “And you, sir.”

Lambert left the Oval Office, closing the door behind him. He headed through the West Wing, which held a minimal staff due to the late hour, and also due to those whom had not been replaced since after the vanishings and the attacks. As he walked, he implemented a roll call on his headset. By the time his limited contingent of agents checked in with him, he was proceeding through the East Wing.

The East Wing was added to the White House in 1942 and served as office space for the First Lady and her staff. It also included the President's theater, the visitor's entrance, and the East Colonnade. Visitors touring the White House through Peace Time entered through the east entrance and followed the East Colonnade past the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden to finally enter the Residence to see rooms on the Ground and State Floors. The Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, which was named by First Lady Bird Johnson in honor of her predecessor, served as an informal reception area for the First Lady. President Jefferson added colonnaded terraces to the east and west sides of the White House. The East Terrace was removed in 1866. It was rebuilt on this foundation in 1902. For many years, a greenhouse occupied the east grounds of the White House.

It was at the east entrance when Lambert came to a quick halt.

The door was wide open.

He should have radioed it in and called for backup immediately, but he didn’t. He didn’t even draw his gun. He stepped through the doorway and checked the grounds. He then simply re-entered and closed the door. He turned and looked down the corridor.

A shadow moved.

Lambert narrowed his eyes and peered toward the shadow. Someone was standing in the doorway to one of the Residence rooms. This time, he did withdraw his gun from its holster and proceeded slowly down the hall. However, he still did not call for back up.

The shadow backed away and disappeared from the corridor, telling the agent that whoever had been in the doorway was now in the room.

Lambert stopped at the doorway and carefully peered in.

No one was in sight, but he thought he heard something.

Without hesitation, Lambert burst into the room with his weapon at the ready. Someone was in the room, waiting for him. He leveled his gun right at the man’s head, but hesitated. Recognition crossed his face.

“Lenox…?” Lambert began, lowering his weapon. “What are--?”

The man he called Lenox interrupted him by grabbing his gun hand and slamming him hard into the wall behind him. The man pressed his forearm into Lambert’s throat and rammed his knee hard into the agent’s stomach. At the same time, the attacker also slammed Lambert’s gun hand against the door frame. After three tries, the gun fell to the floor.

Lambert tried to suck in some air, but everything he once had was forced out by the attack. He gasped for breath as the man’s head crashed into his face. Completely taken by surprise, the agent stumbled and began to fall. He tried to recover some of his dignity by rolling away from his attacker. The man didn’t follow him and he wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He soon found out once he got to his feet in front of the double-sided window.

The man aimed a gun toward him. The gun was equipped with a silencer.

“What are you doing?!” Lambert demanded.

The man he had called Lenox raised the weapon and pulled the trigger twice. Two bullets slammed into Lambert’s chest and propelled him backwards through the window. Glass shattered everywhere as the Secret Service agent fell to the ground below the window. He landed hard, but some trimmed bushes broke his fall and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground where he struggled to bear the pain. The Kevlar jacket he wore under his blazer had stopped the bullets, but they still burned.

He struggled for breath and balance as he tried to rise to his feet. As he did, he tried to call for back up only to realize he had lost his head set somewhere. Either in the room his assailant had been or somewhere in the bushes or on the grounds outside where he had fallen.

He couldn’t take the time to find it.

He finally got to his feet and ran with a limp the entire length of the East Wing. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, because he wasn’t. But the attack had taken a lot out of him and he was feeling the pressure as he tried to get back to the West Wing before it was too late. He rounded the corner and saw the Oval Office. He could reach the French doors and enter through that way. All he knew was that the President had to be protected at all costs.

It clicked in his mind for just a brief second that there were no Secret Service agents on the veranda outside the Oval Office. There usually were, but not this time. That was all that registered in his mind as the entire Oval Office suddenly disappeared in an explosion that tossed Lambert to the ground and sent him into unconsciousness.

His name was Joshua Dunham, and he was a fireman for the Sharptown Fire Department in Maryland. He had been a fireman for twelve years. But once, he had been a rookie.

The year was 2001. It was September 11 and there wasn’t anyone in New York City - or around the entire globe - that would ever forget the attack upon the twin towers. Dunham’s first call as a fireman was to join others from his department and assist to the best of his ability at ground zero. At the time, he remembered being scared, but he used his fear to do the job that others could not. September 11, 2001 was the day Joshua Dunham became a firemen. It was also the day he had lost a man who had been like a father to him.

Brent Summers was a veteran firemen. He was a father, a grandfather, an American, and a hero. He was a man who had taken Dunham under his wing to show him how to live like a fireman. On that unforgettable night, Summers and Dunham were digging through the rubble in hopes of finding a survivor. Just one survivor was all they hoped for because if they could find just one survivor, it would fill them with enough hope to look for the next one.

“How do we find them?” Dunham had cried out in frustration as the smoke-filled air surrounded them.

“One at a time, son,” was Summers reply. “One at a time.”

Grimly, the two men, amongst others, searched desperately for someone to save. Eventually, they came across a large, black hole in the ground and looking into that hole was like looking directly into the gates of Hell. For the most part, it was black. A darkness so thick, it could swallow a man whole and erase him from existence. But there were also pockets of flame which shot upward. Dunham stared down that hole and doubted that anyone could be alive down there.

Slowly, he reached into his pack and brought out a couple of glowsticks. He smacked them into his hand, breaking them and causing the inside of them to light up. Extending his hand out over the hole, he dropped them one by one. They fell into the hole and several stories below, one of them happened to land on a man trapped in the debris.

Dunham peered. “Cappy!” he called out.

Summers joined him and together, the two peered down into the hole. “What’ve you got, son?”

Dunham pointed. “Someone’s down there.” He began to uncoil some rope. “Lower me down, Cap, and I’ll--”

Summers took the rope. “Easy, son. I’ll go. You stay up here and lower me down. I’ll tie the rope around him and after you pull him up, then you get me. Got it?”

Dunham nodded.

Summers tied the rope around himself and then lowered himself carefully into the mouth of the hole. Dunham used the rope to give the older man slack as he needed it. By the time Summers reached the unconscious, trapped man below, two other firemen had joined Dunham. Together, they had pulled one man out from the hole. They put him on a stretcher as the rookie began to pull up Summers.

Suddenly, there was loud groan from below and the sides of the hole literally shifted. Dunham could feel the ground at his feet become unstable and he tightened his grip on the rope.

“Cappy!” he shouted, looking down into the hole.

Summers was below him, almost within arms reach.

The shifting became worst.

Summers eyes locked onto Dunham’s. “Son…” the mentor said, “God…loves you.”

All of the sides of the hole began to collapse and Dunham held onto that rope for all he was worth. “Nooo!” he shouted. He stared in horror as Summers reached up with a knife and cut the rope. This he did, because if he didn’t the rookie would have died with him.

The hole collapsed inward, sounding like some hungry beast that was not yet satisfied with its dinner. It wanted more. The ground at Dunham’s feet began to sink into the collapsing hole but the younger man didn’t care. He was still trying to come to grips with what his mind had just witnessed. He wasn’t even aware of the hands grabbing him and pulling him away from the danger zone.

“Noooooo!” he shouted again, angry and frustrated. Feeling as if all hope had been sucked away from him.

That day, on September 11, 2001, Joshua Dunham had become a fireman.

As he now stood upon the lawn of the White House, staring at what used to be the Oval Office, he felt exactly as he had felt on that day.

There was no hope.

He sat alone in the dark. The office lights were off, and even though the sun was down and the sky was darkened, he sat at his desk in his large office. He sat up straight in his chair, the fingertips to each hand pressed together on the desk pad before him. His eyes were closed and for a long time, he didn’t move. He simply sat there and waited.

His phone rang.

Moving slowly, methodically, he reached over and picked up the phone. He didn’t have to see it because he knew right where it was. His eyes remained closed as he brought the receiver to his mouth and ear.

“Yes,” he said.

“It’s done,” responded a voice.

The man hung up the phone.

And in the dark, a smile spread across his face. The smile became a chuckle, and then as the chuckle erupted into laughter, Tristian Salvadori sat back in his chair and opened his eyes.

“A horrible day has begun to dawn as the sun rises upon the White House,” reported Alyson Moore as she stood on the grounds of the White House with Rick Meers, her cameraman capturing the entire scene. Behind her, smoke from the West Wing rose into the sky as firemen fought to contain the fire which had begun to spread out. “There is yet no word as to the demise of President Walter J. Ballou, but officials believe hope is lost. This attack came when the Secret Service agents who normally surround the President have been decreased in number due to the vanishings and the terrorist attacks upon the United States of America. Even now, it is spreading throughout the entire world like a plague. America the great has fallen into ruin. America has been brought to her knees and people want to know…Will this nation that was once one of the world’s greatest superpowers ever rise from the ashes?”

The sounds of a helicopter flying overhead caught her attention. She turned her head and looked up, catching sight of a black helicopter moving in closer toward the White House.

She turned to face Meers. “This is Alyson Moore, on the DEN, reporting live from the White House.”

Meers turned the camera off and lowered it as he looked at the helicopter. It was heading for a clearing.

As the sun began to rise, the Storm Breaker settled itself down onto a clearing of the lawn behind the White House. Even before the skids touched down on the grass, the door was pulled open and two men and one woman exited from within. They were dressed in black and wore the light windbreakers with the bold letters of ATD on the back.

Albert Barrington led the charge across the grounds. Marc Shiva and Erin Greye followed behind. They had already been given clearance to be present, but that was about to be challenged as two agents from Justice went up to meet with them.

“I don’t care how you got clearance,” Ed Carr snapped as he placed himself directly into Barrington’s path. “But you can just save yourselves some trouble by turning back now.”

Barrington regarded Carr for a moment. He turned his head to look at Carr’s ever-present sidekick, Jerry Averill. Finally, he turned to his own. “Let’s keep moving. I don’t feel like wasting any time on these clowns today.” He sidestepped Carr and began to walk around him.

Averill became indignant and stepped into Shiva’s path. Then, he immediately wished he hadn’t as he tipped his head back to look into the stern disapproving eyes of an ex-wrestler who was still quite capable of demonstrating many of his old wrestling moves. Shiva didn’t even stop. All he had to do was keep walking. Averill moved out of the man’s way faster than he had when he stepped into it.

Erin smiled at the Justice agents sweetly before falling into step with her friends.

“That was fun,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

Shiva just grinned.

But Carr, unfortunately, wasn’t about to take any form of humiliation. He withdrew his gun and aimed it above his head. He fired into the sky, causing the ATD agents to come to an abrupt halt and also causing several agents and law enforcement officers to come running. Barrington had his hand on his gun, but didn’t withdraw it from its shoulder holster. Shiva and Erin also spun around to face Carr and Averill but they froze in astonishment when they saw the new scene before them.

Carr was standing very still. In fact, he was beginning to perspire quite heavily as the man behind him kept a gun pressed right at the back of his head. This man used his free hand to take the gun from Carr’s raised hand.

“Michael…?” Barrington began, incredulous. He had wondered if he would ever see his friend again.

Yet there Michael Lenox was, with a gun to Ed Carr’s head.

“It’s not very wise to discharge your weapon on the grounds of the White House, just to get attention,” Lenox told Carr as he backed away from him. “Especially in light of what happened here last night.” He returned his own weapon to his holster as he waited for the head of the Justice Agency to turn and face him.

Barrington, Shiva, and Erin exchanged looks. It had not escaped their notice that Lenox had not even acknowledged them yet.

Carr turned to face him finally. “I should have known you’d be here if your pals are.” He clenched his jaw and held out his hand. “Return to me my weapon.”

“Only if you promise not to discharge it again,” Lenox told him.

Carr clamped his mouth shut and kept his hand extended for his weapon.

Lenox remained where he was and waited.

Carr sighed. “There’s no time for this foolishness, Lenox! The President has been attacked and the more time we waste, the farther the perpetrators get.”

Lenox looked at his watch, but still made no move to hand him his weapon back.

Carr glanced at Averill.

Averill took a menacing step toward Lenox only to find the weapon leveled right at his head. The Justice agent stopped and looked into the barrel of the weapon. Then, he looked into the cold eyes of Michael Lenox.

“This is between me and your boss,” Lenox told him. “Don’t ever step in where you have no place to. I don’t care if he does order it. Do you got that?”

Averill backed away, nodding.

Lenox lowered the weapon and looked at Carr. Once more, he waited.

“Fine,” Carr growled. “I won’t discharge my weapon again. Does that satisfy you?”

“And you will also agree to drop this petty business about jurisdiction. We both want who did this so why can’t we work together?”

Carr regarded him. “You want to work together?”

Lenox shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because I expect your buddy Barrington to make that request. Not you.” Carr paused as he regarded Lenox for a moment. “Why would you be willing to work with us when you’ve always protested our presence?”

“Times change.” He held out Carr’s weapon.

Carr took it and re-holstered it. Then, he looked at the others. “Fine. Let’s put aside our differences and work together.” With that, he nodded to Averill, and the two agents from Justice walked away.

Barrington, Shiva, and Erin approached Lenox.

Erin slapped Lenox on his arm. “Where have you been for the past month?” she demanded. “You gave us all a scare.”

Lenox looked at her, but he didn’t respond.

“It’s good to see you again, Knox,” Shiva said with a grin.

Barrington didn’t like the way Lenox remained distant. “Well, say something to us, Michael. You’ve been gone a long time and when we see you, it’s right here at the White House in the aftermath of an attack. Are you going to say something?”

“Sure,” Lenox said with a shrug. “Let’s go find out who did this and bring him to justice.”

Barrington paused as he looked at the man he had known since High School. If he was unwilling to be open about where he was and what had happened, then Barrington would respect his privacy. For now. Instead of barraging him with more questions, he said, “Fine. Can you confirm to us about the President’s condition?”

Lenox regarded them. “You…don’t really know?”

“We heard only about the attack and arrived a few moments ago.”

“Well…then I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…the President is dead. Whoever did this waited until they were certain that President Ballou was in the Oval Office.” He paused. “Then, they made their move.”

Shiva suddenly looked pale as he swallowed. “Come on, man…Not the President. He…he didn’t deserve it.”

Lenox turned his head. “Someone thought he did.”

Shiva frowned. He leaned forward and glared at Lenox. “What’s wrong with you, man? How can you be so cold? Someone just killed the President of the United States and you seem awful callous about it.”

“I’m just doing my job. Isn’t that what you’re here to do?” With that, he turned and walked away, intent on finding answers and completing his mission.

William Fronk typed like a madman onto the keyboard in front of his computer and then clicked ENTER. His response appeared in the IM box on his monitor, right after the Gilligan avatar which he used when online.

The response was immediate.

Fronk considered what he was reading. Whoever gaffer256 was, he was a Christian attempting to make preparations for other believers as the Great Tribulation drew closer. They were using code as they spoke, and it was even biblical code. The planting of the fields represented going out and spreading the Word. The seed was the word. And the crow…was either the Devil at work trying to hinder them…or it was an actual person who was being used by the Devil to hinder the work.

Fronk sat back as he checked onto the L.A.M.B. website to see the progress his brother in the Lord was making. According to the website, gaffer256 was making a lot of progress in gathering lost souls to Jesus. The man had an update on his site where other believers logged on and gave their testimonies. gaffer256 was even bold enough to place a photo of himself and the name beneath the photo was Daryl Mix.

Fronk made a face.

Daryl Mix had a website.

Fronk had started one, but he hadn’t had time to do much more with it than he wanted to. He made a vow to get that site of his up and running soon.

Hopefully sooner.

Staci Cohen was spiritually drained. Since Hank Sumter’s knee operation and since the removal of the implant in his sinus cavity, he had been in an unexplained coma. After the AIM agents had left the Belgrade Hospital, Staci placed Sumter into a private room with the help of Dr. Timothy Shrenko. Sumter had become comatose. He could not be awakened. He failed to respond normally to pain or light. He didn’t have any sleep-wake cycles, and did not take voluntary actions.

The sudden coma could not be explained. Coma’s usually resulted from a variety of conditions, including intoxication, metabolic abnormalities, central nervous system diseases, acute neuralgic injuries such as stroke, and hypoxia. Some coma’s were also deliberately induced by pharmaceutical agents in order to preserve higher brain function following another form of brain trauma.

Sumter had not been intoxicated. He had been shot in the knee. That and the combination of the implant could have been enough to cause trauma, but Staci didn’t believe it was enough cause for a coma. Shrenko concurred with her. Unfortunately, it did not explain why Hank Sumter was in a coma.

She prayed for Sumter every day, but when each day passed and there was no change in her patient’s condition, it began to weigh heavily on her. She was discouraged and wanted to know why God wasn’t answering any of her prayers. Shrenko was no help. He at first appeared to be a man who wanted to help in the beginning, but when she became a member of the staff, he kept to himself and only showed up in the Emergency Room when help was needed. When she wanted to talk to him, he made excuses and abruptly left.

Staci had been staying at the hospital in an office Shrenko had assigned for her. The name on the door said; Dr. Staci Austin. She recognized the need to use the name she had been given when she had been married…but she didn’t approve of it. The name rekindled memories she had hoped were buried.

In the early morning as the sun continued to rise, Staci brought her Bible out to a large weeping willow on the grounds behind the hospital. She sat with her back to the tree as the weeping willow shaded her from the sun like an umbrella over her. She had her Bible open on her lap but all she could do was look at it. She felt so disconnected she didn’t know how to get into His Word. God had never felt so far away from her as He did just then.

The words in the printed pages of her Bible simply looked like words with no meaning. She sought for some kind of message, something that would give her hope… but there was nothing. She closed her eyes and tried to find God.

“God, are you there?”

There was no response. She expected as much, but waited anyway.

“I’m struggling today, Father…I really am. Why aren’t You answering my prayers? Why can’t you show Yourself? I need You to because I can’t do this any more. It’s so hard. Why can’t You help me?”

She stopped and listened.

For what, she didn’t know. She knew in her heart she would never hear God speak audibly to her. But it was the End Times and God worked in mysterious ways. He had revealed Himself to Darwyn Musad in a dream and changed him to David King. God was still working miracles.

Staci wanted a miracle in her own life.

“God…if You are there, please…I love birds. Could You please send me a bird? It would so encourage my heart. Please, Father…send me a bird.”

She opened her eyes and looked.

But there was no bird.

She turned her head to the left…and discovered no bird. She turned her head to the right, and found the exact same thing.

No bird.

Feeling like she was just a tiny speck in the sand, she leaned back and let out a weary sigh. She put her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. Then, she just looked up at the tree branches above her.

“I don’t understand,” she said softly. “I…I just don’t understand.”

Then, out of the corner of her eye, something moved. She turned her head again, but there was nothing there. She looked down at her Bible in her lap and froze as her mouth opened in astonishment. A large dragonfly with bright blue wings had landed on her Bible and it remained there for a moment as if watching Staci. She was so amazed at such a beautiful site that she was speechless as all she could do was stare. The dragonfly’s wings were constantly flicking, but it didn’t take off.

Staci suddenly found herself smiling.

Until she heard the unmistakable sound of a crunching noise. She leaned forward, making another astonishing discovery.

The dragonfly was in the process of eating its breakfast.

Staci frowned. “Eww.”

But then something came to her realization. The dragonfly was receiving its nourishment in much the same way her soul needed to be nourished by the Word of God. God was with her. He was showing her that He loved her and had not left her, but that she needed to study His Word. He showed her this through the visit of the dragonfly, even though she asked for a bird. It was enough for her to find strength to go on. It was more than enough.

Staci raised her hands up toward heaven and thanked God for His goodness. As she did this, the dragonfly darted off in another direction. Perhaps to find someone else who needed the same message from God as Staci had just received.

It had been there toward the back of the parking lot behind Belgrade Hospital since the vanishings. Craig Moore had spotted it that first day he had arrived at the hospital with the others as they had brought Hank Sumter in for help. He had been out to see it every day afterwards, but today, he made his first approach.

It was a black Lexus. It was brand new, or at least looked to be. As Pa got closer to the vehicle, he knew in his heart that it was in fact brand new. He could smell how new it was. As to why it was in the parking lot, he could only imagine. It was possible that the owner of the vehicle was among the missing.

As he found himself at the drivers side of the Lexus, he looked inside and discovered clothes in the seat behind the steering wheel. Hesitantly, he put his hand toward the door handle and opened it. He slowly pulled the door all the way open and peered inside. He took a deep whiff, closed his eyes and nodded.

“Uhm hmm,” he said softly to himself. “Yes, sirree. This here is definitely new.”

He leaned in further and saw that the keys to the Lexus were in the ignition. The owner must have put them in there just as the rapture occurred. Slowly, Pa reached in and took up the clothes. He carefully folded them up and placed them back into the car, but further along on the seat. He got in, closed the door, and just sat there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of sitting inside a new car.

He had never had a new car, and all of the cars he had seen that he had liked best was a Lexus. Just like this one.

He put his hands on the steering wheel and sighed.

“I’m just an old fool,” he said softly, shaking his head. With all of the talk he had heard about the rapture, and about salvation, he had made no decisions about accepting Christ as his own Lord and Savior.

But he could not deny the pricking of his heart.

He looked up. “I haven’t been much of a praying man, God. I don’t rightly know if you’re even listening to me right now. You see, there’s a lot of baggage I’ve been carrying around with me for most of my life and You and I both know it’s what’s been keeping me from coming to You in the first place. So here’s what I want to do. Now…I know that You know what’s in my heart. There’s nothing I can hide from You, is there? So if You will grant me this one thing, Lord…I will give You my baggage and my life and put You before all other things. I do desire to know You, God…like You know me. But I’m old and I’m stubborn. And I guess a little sentimental.” He paused. “I’ve never had anything like this in my life. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how I could make it mine…But let me have this car, and I’ll use it for You.”

And with that heartfelt prayer, Pa remained seated there for quite a while after.

Little did he know that God fully intended to answer his prayer and hold him to his promise.

The Willow Creek Bible Baptist Church was empty of people except for a handful of members who didn’t want to be any where else. David King, John Saint and his wife, Chris, and a man named Peter Chase were a part of that handful. While Chris was helping with cleaning chores inside the church, Saint, Chase, and King were having a discussion in the pastors office. The two believers had taken to sharing the office.

Saint knew Pastor Richard Worsham would not have minded. He glanced up at the family photograph on top of the book shelf against the wall to the left of the office. Pastor Worsham, his wife, his son, and his daughter all smiled at him from the family photo. A caption could be read at the bottom of the photo, etched into the frame.

Saint couldn’t help but smile. He believed with all of his heart that Pastor Worsham and his family were at that very moment in the presence of the Lord. They had vanished in the blink of an eye when the Lord Jesus had come for His bride. He wished for a moment that he was up there with them. But then he realized that perhaps he and King had been left behind so they could receive the Gospel and share it with the lost.

Like Peter Chase.

Chase was the Deputy Sheriff for the small town of Willow Creek. With only a population of 500, where everyone knew each other, only two lawmen served to protect Willow Creek. Sheriff Robert Hoag and Deputy Sheriff Peter Chase.

Not much happened in the small town of Willow Creek that required them to go above and beyond the call of duty. Over the years, a few domestic disturbances, rebellious teenagers, a few brush fires, and several bar fights were what took most of their time. No major crisis had ever reared its ugly head…until the simultaneous events of the vanishings and the terrorist attacks upon the United States of America.

Since the two events, the lawmen hardly had any time to catch their breaths. Even though not many of the 500 were among the vanishing - except for the Worsham’s, the children of Willow Creek, and a scattered few - the results were devastating. People just started acting crazy. Some of them began to scream about aliens and UFO’s. Others were certain that the vanishings were due to the terrorist attacks. Fights broke out because of disagreements. Many people were gearing up for war and stocking up for the end. The two lawmen suddenly had their hands full.

Then, another problem crept in.

Saint had taken over the pastoral role of Willow Creek Bible Baptist Church and began to lead the small gathering in spreading the Gospel message more urgently than before. When King had arrived on the scene, he and Saint motivated the handful few to mobilize and evangelize all of Willow Creek. For several weeks, they went to door to door, bringing the Gospel out to the lost.

At first, no one really cared. But then a handful of Gatherers became two handfuls, and suddenly, there were thirty converts added. Then, the thirty new converts began to witness to the community of Willow Creek.

“That’s the problem,” Chase tried to explain to King and Saint. “You people have already spread out amongst the community, and told everybody their need for Christ. But you won’t stop, and I’m telling you, people are getting upset over this. You’ve got to stop pushing them or they will push back.”

“We’re simply proclaiming Jesus Christ,” King told him.

“They don’t care.”

Saint regarded King for a moment. “David, maybe Pete’s right.”

King turned to look at him, incredulous. “John, we can’t stop the message just because there are a few who don’t want to receive it.”

“That’s just it,” Chase replied in exasperation. “Nobody wants to receive it.”

Saint paused. “I suppose there comes a time when we just have to shake the dust from our feet and move on to the next place. The Word has been seeded here. Maybe it’ll bear fruit in time. Even if it doesn’t, we did what God wanted us to do.”

King sat back in the chair behind the desk and sighed. He seemed thoughtful. “So what do we do now?”

Before he could answer, a commotion could be heard outside the office. Saint moved toward the door to open it, but it swung open before he could get to it. Three people hurried in, one of them in tears. It was the Dell’s, Saint recognized. Jason and Sherry Dell with their older son, James. Sherry was crying so hard, she was close to hyperventilating.

King rose to his feet. “Oh, my dear sister, what has happened?” He came around the desk toward them.

Jason glanced at Chase, but he then focused his attention on Saint and King. “They burned our home.”

Chase frowned. “What?”

“Sometime in the middle of the night, the…” He stopped himself, struggling hard not to swear like he used to. He took a deep breath and tried again. “They came in the night and tossed bottles of gas at our house. There were quite a few of them…And I heard the Snyder brothers out there as clear as day! I know they were the ones who probably instigated this attack.”

“Bottles of gas?” Chase inquired. “You mean…Molotov cocktails?”

Molotov cocktails were mockingly named after Vyacheslav Molotov who was a leading figure in the Soviet Government in the 1920’s. He was the principal signatory of the Nazi-Soviet non-aggression pact of 1939. The Molotov cocktail was a gasoline bomb commonly associated with guerilla forces and rioters since they were the only effective weapons available. Having such weapons being used to destroy a home in the community of Willow Creek was beginning to speak volumes.

“I don’t care what they’re called!” James shouted angrily before his father could respond. “They destroyed our home! They’re just lucky they didn’t stick around by the time we got out because I would have killed them!”

Jason put a reassuring hand on his sons shoulder. “Easy, Jim. We got out. We’re alive. That has to count for something.”

“Pa, they can’t get away with this!”

“They won’t,” Chase began to assure them. “I’ll see to it that - ”

“Ah, you won’t see to nothing!” James exclaimed. “You were probably in on it.”

Chase blinked. “What?” He looked from the son to the father. “How can you say that? If I had been there, it wouldn’t have happened. The Sheriff and I - ”

“Sheriff Hoag was there,” Sherry said between sobs. “I…I saw him.”

Chase shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. You must have seen - ”

“He was there!” she shouted angrily. “He-he was there, leaning against his car… watching those an-animals burn down my home!” She shook her head. “He-he didn’t do anything to stop them.”

Chase just looked at her. He was having a difficult time believing what he was hearing. When he looked at Jason and James, however, he saw the truth of what they said in their eyes. If the Sheriff didn’t stop what had happened, then matters were already worst than he had originally feared.

Chris had been standing in the doorway. She had come running when she had heard the commotion. There were tears in her eyes. The Saints had been living in Willow Creek for most of their lives and so they knew everyone in the community. Her heart went out to the Dell’s as she came in and put her arms around Sherry.

Chase took a deep breath. “I’m sorry this happened, but I assure you, no one is going to get away with it.”

He could tell from the expressions on their faces that they didn’t believe him.

King frowned, but he didn’t say what he had on his mind. Instead, he put his hands on the family…one hand on Sherry’s shoulder, and the other hand on James. He began to pray and everyone but Chase bowed their heads. King prayed for the Dells, he prayed for those responsible for their loss, and he asked for God to show them what had to be done presently and asked also for the courage to do what He asked of them. When he was done, Chris took the Dells out of the office to help set up a room for them to stay in.

When they were gone, King went back around the desk and said, “Clearly this is due to opposition against Jesus Christ.”

Chase shook his head. “What are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Saint asked. “The Dells have been out there witnessing with us. The Snyders used to be good friends with them, especially with Jim. They clearly got offended by the Word and because of it, they attacked the Dells. But they weren’t the only ones.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me they were assaulted because they were telling others about God. That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” King inquired. “The Bible does say ‘all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. 2’”

Chase shook his head. “You’re making this into something that it’s not. I don’t know why this happened, but I’m sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

At that moment, another man appeared in the doorway of the office. It was Sheriff Robert Hoag, and before anyone could say or do anything, the Sheriff wordlessly withdrew his weapon from its holster, leveled it at King and fired a single round. King fell back against the wall and collapsed onto the floor behind the desk.

1 - Joshua 24:15
2 - II Timothy 3:12

Dunham stood in the center of what was left of the Oval Office. All around him, the walls had been completely blown apart in the explosion. Everything was completely black. The roof had been pushed outward from the explosion. Now the Oval Office was completely exposed to the open elements of the outside. The explosion had been so destructive, no one had any hope that any part of the President would remain.

However, the forensics specialists who were assigned to the case wouldn’t give up until they found something.

Dunham felt numb inside as he took off his helmet and surveyed the scene around him. America had just been dealt another heavy blow. It didn’t matter who was responsible for this act of war. All that did matter was America was going to appear weak and without a leader. It would send a message to the world that the great Eagle has finally fallen.

“What has this world come to?” he asked softly, not expecting an answer.

“Are you a Christian?”

Slowly, Dunham turned his head and saw a man standing beside him, regarding him with a inquisitive look. He cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

The man showed him his credentials. “I’m with the Secret Service. Charles McLaughlin.” He put his credentials away. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Dunham hesitated. “I’m sorry…what was the question?”

“Are you a Christian?”

“Why would you ask me that? What difference would it make?”

“Well, if you’re a Christian, then it would make all the difference in the world, wouldn’t it? In spite of what has happened here, there’s always still hope for a Christian, because Christians believe in a God who can move mountains.” He looked around at the destruction surrounding them. “Christians would believe that some good would come out of this because doesn’t the Bible mention something about everything working together for good to those who love Him?”

Dunham stared at him, incredulous. “How could something good come out of this?”

McLaughin didn’t answer his question. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

The fireman let out a weary sigh. “Yes, I’m a Christian. But even Christians struggle with doubt and right now…I don’t see any hope. Do you?”

McLaughlin paused as he fought with an inner struggle of his own. Finally, he said, “Stick around, kid. God works in mysterious ways.” He turned to face him. “If you want to know the truth about one of these mysteries, brother, then come with me.”

Driven by curiosity and a need to know the truth, the fireman followed the Secret Service agent out of the destroyed Oval Office and across the grounds of the White House.

Lambert sat up on the back end of an ambulance, holding a damp towel to the back of his neck. He had told the paramedics that he was fine, in fact, repeatedly. When they saw the grim resolve in his dark eyes and the barely restrained anger, they finally backed away. They understood his anger.

At least, they only thought they understood it. They believed he was angry because he felt responsible for what had happened at the White House only hours before. That it was his fault the President had met his demise at the hands of terrorists. Now there was only one option left for Lambert and that was to hunt the ones responsible for this atrocity and bring them to justice.

That is what the paramedics thought was going through the mind of the secret service agent.

They were wrong.

Lambert’s rage was deeper than that. And it began to come to the surface when he happened to glance up and noticed who was coming his way. It was Barrington, Shiva, and Erin…but ahead of them, Lenox was leading the way. They were heading right for him.

Angrily, he got to his feet and met them before they got to the ambulance. No one was aware that Alyson and Meers were approaching from the long stretch of drive way in front of the White House.

Lambert stopped in front of Lenox, glaring at him. “I want a word with you.”

Lenox ignored the fact that the secret service agent was referring just to him. “Fine. We want a word with you so I guess that works out for all of us.”

“No…not with them.” He poked a forefinger at Lenox’ chest, emphasizing his point. “Just you.”

Barrington looked from Lenox to Lambert. It wasn’t hard to notice the hostility between them. “Michael…what’s going on?”

Lenox kept his eyes on Lambert. “Nothing. This will take just a moment.” He followed Lambert away from the others back toward the ambulance. The two men climbed into the ambulance and Lambert pulled the doors closed, giving them privacy.

Barrington frowned at this sudden turn of events.

“What was that all about?” Shiva wanted to know.

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t really know.”

Erin hesitated, “Al…how are we going to find out where Michael has been all this time? Why won’t he tell us?”

“I don’t know that either, but I intend to find out.” He didn’t like the way the tension between them and the agents from Justice were suddenly diffused. Lenox had never given in to working with them before. Why now? That was bothering him more than he wanted to admit.

As they waited for Lambert and Lenox to finish their discussion, they were unaware of Meers setting up his camera from the cover of a black SUV. Alyson was beside him, her microphone at the ready as she gave him instructions. They were waiting for something to happen just as the ATD agents were waiting. Alyson, however, also wished she could find out what was being discussed in the ambulance by Lenox and Lambert. She also had noticed the tension between the two.

A few minutes later, the doors at the back of the ambulance swung open and Lambert came out first. He was clearly angry about something as he approached Barrington, Shiva and Erin. Lenox came out behind him, but his face wore no expression. It was hard to even begin to imagine what going through his mind. Alyson narrowed her eyes. Clearly harsh words had been exchanged inside the ambulance. She signaled for Meers to begin filming, and as the DEN was recording live, she fully intended to get everything on this story that she could before one of those agents stopped her. The fact that they still had not been noticed was in their favor.

Suddenly, there was a new development.

Just before Lambert got to the ATD agents, two other men were walking toward them from the White House. Barrington saw them first and couldn’t help but show his surprise.

Turning to the others, he pointed. “It’s Chuck McLaughlin.”

Shiva frowned. “Well, we’ve always wondered where he had gone off to when Erin told us he had left the shelter.”

Lambert stopped and looked at the two approaching men. “Charles McLaughlin?” He had not had the opportunity to meet the man since he had become an agent of the Secret Service, but he had become familiar with his personal bio. He didn’t know who the fireman was and didn’t pay any attention to him. “Where have you been? We were beginning to believe you were dead.”

McLaughlin and Dunham stopped as they joined Lambert and the ATD agents. “As you can see, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” He nodded a greeting to the ATD agents. “Bear…Fury…Erin.”

Barrington wondered if McLaughlin had kept the secret of the shelters location to himself. He returned the greeting. “Chuck.”

Dunham hung back, watching. No one seemed to notice him.

Lambert scowled. “All of you guys know each other?”

“That’s not important,” McLaughlin told him. “What is important is that I can tell you who is responsible for the assassination of President Walter J. Ballou.”

From their cover, Alyson continued to watch as Meers filmed the ATD agents, the Secret Service men, and the fireman live on the DEN.

Director Darren T. Fuller was at a loss of words. He had been sitting behind his desk in his office at the Federal Building in Albany, spending time in the Word of God. As he studied, he suddenly found himself distracted by an overpowering desire to turn on the television set. He fought the urge and tried to focus his full attention on the Book of Revelation.

The harder he tried to concentrate, the more powerful the impulse became. Fuller let out a sigh of aggravation. He knew there was nothing on the television that he wanted to see. He was fully aware of what was happening at the White House, and of the continuing news story, which he was certain had nothing new to report. His friend, the President of the United States, was gone, and there was nothing that could be done to change that.

Yet something was drawing him to the television set.

Hesitantly, he reached for the remote control and aimed it at the television. Since the channel was already tuned to the DEN, he immediately understood that the urge to turn it on was from a strong prodding of the Spirit. On the screen, he could see the White House in the background. Several men were standing together, and one woman. There were only two men whom he didn’t recognize. One of them was a fireman.

He saw Barrington, Shiva, Erin, and Lambert. When he saw Lenox, he realized that for some strange reason, he wasn’t all that surprised to see him.

He frowned. The way the camera was angled lead him to believe that they were being filmed without being aware of it.

“Charles McLaughlin?” Lambert inquired. “Where have you been? We were beginning to believe you were dead.”

Fuller recognized the name. Although he had never met McLaughlin, Barrington had told him about him when they were keeping the Secret Service agent at the shelter.

“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” McLaughlin responded. Then, he nodded his head toward the others. “Bear…Fury…Erin.”

Barrington returned the nod. “Chuck.”

“All of you guys know each other?” Lambert asked them.

Fuller didn’t like where this was going. He picked up the phone and dialed Fronk’s extension number. Fronk picked it up on the first ring. Before he could say anything, Fuller snapped, “Get in here!”

He hung up the phone just as McLaughlin said, “…I can tell you who is responsible for the assassination of President Walter J. Ballou.”

Fuller shook his head. “Aw, no…” He reached into his pocket, took out his cell phone, and speed-dialed the number to Barrington’s cellular phone. Staring at the television screen, he prayed that he would be able to get a hold of Barrington with enough time to warn him that they were on live television.

Staci checked Sumter’s vital signs, hoping for an improvement of some kind in his condition. Unfortunately, there was no change. She let out a sigh and looked at her patient. He at least seemed to be at peace. The agents of AIM were unable to find him and thanks to her removing the implant which was in his sinus cavity, they weren’t going to be able to find him.

With nothing further to do for him, she left the private hospital room and closed the door behind her. She headed up the hall where her office was across from the elevators. As she was walking toward her door, Moore was stepping out of the elevator with his customary limp.

She smiled and waved at him. “Hi, Pa.”

Moore returned the smile and made his way toward her. “Hello, Daughter Number 1. And aren’t you my favorite one, too?”

She opened the door to her office and turned back to look at him. “Of course, I’m your favorite. Would you like some coffee? I have a pot on in my office. I could use a cup.”

He followed her into her office. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. Too much caffeine, and I’m in trouble. It excites this old ticker of mine, and I’ve learned it’s best not to do that ‘cause if I do, I could be meeting with the Man upstairs before you do.” He noticed the television set was on with the volume turned down. He stopped in front of it and looked at the screen. The DEN was showing the destruction of the Oval Office of the White House. “You go on ahead, though. You’re still young and have a healthy ticker for strong coffee.”

Staci set her clipboard with Sumter’s medical records onto her desk. “I don’t make strong coffee. Unless I really need it.” She poured herself a cup.

Moore glanced at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

She put a little cream into her coffee. As she stirred it, she said, “Sure.”

He hesitated. “Does God ever give people…I dunno…things? Objects? Like, say…a car?”

She turned to face him, curios. “I suppose He does. My sister used to tell me that God gives people who love Him things they need when they need it all the time. He isn’t in the business to give just because people want Him to. He gives when it’s needed the most.”

Moore paused to consider her words. “Well…I suppose the key phrase there is that He gives to people who love Him.”

“Oh, Pa…I’m not an expert or anything. I…I just believe that He does provide us with everything we need. To those who belong to Him and to those who are seeking.” She looked at him closely. “Are you seeking?”

He shrugged. “Well…I am asking Him things. I’m not sure…I think He’s listening. Listening to an old guy like me…well, just makes it real personal. Like He truly does care for a guy like me.”

“Of course, He does. He loves you, Pa.”

He paused. “Well…I think He gave me a car. A nice one, too. A Lexus.” He pointed with his thumb behind him. “Back in the parking lot, there’s this black Lexus, and it seems to have been left there since after the vanishings. Keys and all inside.” He reached into his pocket and pulled them out. “In fact, I have the keys right here.”

Staci hesitated. “Are you really asking me if maybe God gave you a Lexus?”

“Yeah…Maybe you’re right. Kinda crazy thinking from an old man like me, huh?”

Staci thought for a moment. “Pa…”

“Hmm?”

She leaned back against her desk, holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could ask God for you…Ask Him to show us if this is His Will by putting a fleece before Him.” She peered at him. “Now, I don’t know what will happen if I make a prayer like this. Nikki used to put fleeces before God and, well, uhm…I guess they worked for her. So…so let me do that for you, okay?”

Moore shrugged. “Sure. Okay…Should we both kneel? Take into account how old I am and my knees don’t bend like they used to.”

She smiled at him. “Let’s just both sit over here on the sofa.”

As they sat down, Moore couldn’t help but say, “I guess you doctors are all alike. It seems to me there’s a sofa in every doctors office you go to. Seems to me that maybe they mostly sleep when they should be helping the sick.”

Staci grinned, sitting beside him. She took his right hand in her hands. “You don’t have to pray. I will. Okay?”

He nodded.

She bowed her head and began to pray. Moore also bowed when he realized she wasn’t peeking at him. He closed his eyes and listened to her prayer.

“Father,” Staci prayed, “Pa and I come to You today to ask You for a Lexus. I’m, uhm, still so new at praying…I don’t know how to do it other than to just come out and say it. I asked for a bird earlier, but You gave me a dragonfly. So I really don’t know how You’re gonna answer this.”

Moore cracked open one eye to peek at her. Then, he closed it again.

“Pa found a Lexus. I think he really wants a Lexus. Can You let him this Lexus he found?” She paused. “Father…let us have an answer in this way. If the Lexus isn’t meant for him, then make it so he cannot drive it. If this car is something You want him to have, then give him an opportunity to drive it. But most of all, please…please let him see You. Maybe that’s why this Lexus is here so that he can see You working in his life…So that he can come to You and trust You…So he can become one of Your own. This we pray in the name of my Lord, Jesus…Amen.”

“Amen,” Moore said. He opened his eyes and turned to face her. “Thank you, Staci. I…” He stopped.

Staci was staring at the television set with her mouth open in surprise.

“Staci, what’s wrong?”

She pointed at the television. “That’s…that’s Michael.”

Moore turned to the television. On the screen were several men and a woman. One of the men was Michael Lenox. “Well, I guess he isn’t all that missing as we had thought. And look, there he is with Son Number 1.” He referred to Barrington.

Staci got to her feet and approached the TV. She turned it up. “I-I can’t believe he’s back. Why didn’t they tell me?” She had already forgotten about what she and Moore had prayed for. “I have to get to Albany, Pa. I have to find a way to get back to Albany and see Darren.”

Moore looked up from the sofa and a wry smile appeared on his lips. “Really?” He winked at her. “Well, my favorite daughter…I do believe your prayer has been answered.”

Saint was so shocked, for a brief few seconds, he couldn’t bring himself to move. Sheriff Hoag had simply come through the doorway, leveled his firearm at King, and fired off a single round. Then, King fell against the wall and slumped to the floor behind his desk. At that point, Saint just stood there, staring in horror. He couldn’t understand how this could be allowed to happen.

Deputy Sheriff Chase was also stunned. As he stood there trying to understand the motive behind his superiors actions, the sound of people running out in the hall could be heard.

Chris had been downstairs with the Dell’s and a few other church attendees when the shot was fired. Chris and Donna Perkins dropped what they were doing and they came up running. When they saw the sheriff in the doorway of the office with his gun drawn, they stopped in the corridor.

Hoag seemed to be oblivious of anyone else in the office. He stepped further inside, intending to stand over King and put another bullet into him. Yet as he moved, Saint grabbed a hold of him by the collar and attempted to push him back. Hoag grabbed Saint by the arm and twisted hard. He slammed the man into the wall and pointed his gun right at his face.

Chase took a step forward to intervene, but Hoag stopped him with a shout. “Stay where you are, Pete! You just stay back!”

Chase hesitated. “Sheriff…what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m not crazy.” Hoag focused on Saint. “But you are, aren’t you?”

Saint glared at him. “Go ahead, you coward. Pull the trigger.”

“Don’t tempt me, John. The only reason I haven’t killed you is because I’ve known your family all my life. I’ve known everyone in this town except for that terrorist you’ve been keeping company with.”

“What? David is no terrorist!”

Hoag glared. “His name was Darwyn Musad. He was a terrorist. Now I really don’t know how you wound up with him, John, but if he was somehow brainwashing you and the others, then you can get help.”

Saint stared at him. “What are you talking about? He wasn’t brainwashing anyone! You walked in here and just shot him without offering him a chance to defend himself!”

“Listen to yourself! That man was a cold-blooded terrorist. His name is on the most wanted list of the FBI. He’s responsible for killing hundreds of innocent lives in the name of his god! I don’t know what he was planning to do here in Willow Creek, John, but I certainly wasn’t going to just stand around and let it happen.”

Chris and Donna were at the doorway now. “David isn’t a terrorist. Maybe Darwyn Musad was, but David isn’t.”

Hoag shook his head. “You’re all fools.” He released Saint and stepped back. “The vanishings and the attack on our country are related, and that man had a part in it.” He pointed toward the desk where King’s body lay behind it. “You’re all obviously brainwashed somehow. He’s got you all pushing some kind of gospel about salvation when the truth is…he’s manipulated you into whatever scheme he had going.”

Saint shook his head. “The only Gospel we’re sharing is about the Lord Jesus Christ. Because if you don’t accept Him, you will die in your sins and burn in Hell.”

Hoag regarded him. “And you’re just mad enough to want to send me there, aren’t you?”

Saint didn’t respond.

“Are you telling me that your David King, who was a terrorist, is going to be allowed into the Kingdom of Heaven while I’m on the road to Hell?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you people. John, get your followers together and get out of Willow Creek. When I come back here tomorrow at noon, you’d better be gone. And don’t ever come back. You’ve all stirred up enough trouble around here. Take your troubles out of my town. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

Hoag glanced at Chase. Then, he turned and walked out of the office, Chris and Donna stepping back to get out of his way. When he was gone, they hurried into the office, tears in their eyes at the thought of David King, lying on the floor dead. They were all stunned. After Hoag had walked out, they all stood there, staring at the desk. They knew what they would find behind it.

They couldn’t bring themselves to move. Chris moved to stand beside her husband and he numbly put his arm around her. Donna stood still, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Chase couldn’t bring himself to move. He was more than aware that times were bad, but he never expected anything like this from Sheriff Robert Hoag.

The office was silent. No one said a word.

Suddenly, a voice from behind the desk and from the floor said, “Is he gone?”

Chase looked at Saint. Saint held his breath.

“David…?” Chris inquired hopefully.

A hand appeared from behind the desk and grabbed at the edge. Then, another one. Finally, King’s head appeared as he peered over the top of the desk. “Is he gone?” he asked again.

Saint and Chris moved around the desk, both reaching for him. “Yeah, he’s gone,” Saint said as he and his wife helped King up. Saint began to laugh. “I…I don’t see any blood. David, are you alright?”

King nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. The bullet didn’t hit me.”

Chase shook his head, trying to understand what had happened. “But he shot you, David. There was no way he could have missed.”

“Perhaps he was using blanks?” King suggested.

“Sheriff Hoag doesn’t use blanks.”

“I do not know what to tell you. He may have shot at me, but he missed.”

“No, he didn’t,” Saint said softly. “Look…”

All eyes turned to what he was pointing at. There in the wall behind the desk was a bullet hole. Chase moved around the desk for a closer look. He took out a knife and dug into the hole with it. A short time later, he managed to dig the bullet out of the wall. He turned and showed it to the others, speechless. He looked at King.

“David,” Saint said, shaking his head, “this…this is amazing. This bullet passed right through you!”

King paused. “But…I did not feel anything.”

“God’s watching over you,” Donna said. Unable to contain herself no longer, she moved toward him and hugged him. “He has something He wants you to do, and no one can stop the Will of God. Not even Sheriff Hoag.”

King returned the hug.

Chase let out a sigh. “Okay…I’ve seen a miracle today. There’s nothing else that could explain this.” He paused. “Janice would never believe this. Guys…I only have one question.”

They all turned to look at him.

“What’s that?” Saint asked.

Chase didn’t hesitate. “What must I do to be saved?”

Alyson could not believe the proverbial stroke of journalistic luck she was having right at that moment. Chuck McLaughlin was about to disclose the identity of the person responsible for President Ballou’s demise. As to whether the man had the facts right or not didn’t matter. He was going to tell the world first hand right on the DEN and live. Meers kept his hands steady as he filmed everything. He couldn’t help but wonder if people were sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for McLaughlin to speak.

The Secret Service agent was about to tell everyone who he believed was responsible.

McLaughlin opened his mouth to speak, but Barrington’s cell phone began to ring.

Barrington held up a hand. “Wait a second, Chuck. Let me get this.” He reached into his pocket for his cellular phone.

“Just let it ring,” McLaughlin said. “Call whoever it is back. This is important.”

“Yeah, Al,” Lenox said as he folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s hear this. I’d love to hear who’s responsible. Wouldn’t you?”

Lambert shot him a look.

Barrington hesitated. “Sure. I’ll deal with the phone call later.” He glanced at McLaughlin. “What have you got?”

“It’s the Antichrist,” the Secret Service agent said.

Everyone looked at him as if he had two heads.

“What?” Lambert demanded. “Are you out of your mind? There is no Antichrist, McLaughlin. You mean to tell me that you came back to tell us the Antichrist had the President of the United States assassinated? This isn’t Science Fiction!”

“No, it’s not Science Fiction.” McLaughlin stood his ground. “It just happens to be prophecy coming to life. The Antichrist is the one responsible for this attack. He personally orchestrated the whole thing with an agency the world has yet to learn about. That agency is called AIM. Agency Intelligence Merge. AIM’s sole purpose is to carry out the directives set up by Tristian Salvadori, and Tristian Salvadori is the Antichrist.”

For a moment, no one said a word.

Then, Erin said, “Chuck…are you a Christian?”

McLaughlin nodded once. “Yes. When I left you guys, I had a lot to think about. I suddenly found myself seeking out some answers of my own, and what I discovered led me to the truth of what you were telling me. It also brought a lot of other issues to light for me, including what I found out about Tristian Salvadori.”

Shiva grinned and clapped McLaughlin on the back. “Well, I for one am glad you saw the light, brother.”

“So am I,” Barrington agreed.

Dunham remained silent as he stood by and witnessed what was happening. He found it easy to believe the Antichrist was behind the assassination of the President, but was stunned that McLaughlin thought Tristian Salvadori was the one who would deceive the world during the Tribulation. He had seen the good that Salvadori was doing from the news programs. Then, he suddenly wondered if the news was out to make Salvadori look good as part of that deception. His thoughts were interrupted by Lenox.

“I don’t believe this!” Lenox snapped harshly. He pulled out his gun and leveled it in the direction behind Barrington. Before anyone could stop him, he shouted, “Turn it off!”

Barrington turned around and saw the reason for Lenox’ outburst. Alyson and Meers were filming them. He groaned inwardly, feeling completely stupid that he had allowed this to happen.

“You can’t stop the news, Michael Lenox,” Alyson replied as she stood out from the cover of the SUV, her microphone held out in front of her. She had a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “The entire world has heard Charles McLaughlin proclaim Tristian Salvadori as the Antichrist, and he has also claimed that the Antichrist is responsible for carrying out the execution of the President of the United States. And now in front of the entire world, you are drawing your weapon on members of the press.”

Lenox lowered his weapon. “Turn it off.”

Alyson looked into his eyes. “I want an interview.”

“Fine.”

She turned to face Meers and her camera. “This is Alyson Moore, reporting live from the White House on The DEN.”

Meers turned off the camera and lowered it. “Ratings will probably hit the roof with that one.”

Alyson couldn’t help but smile as she turned to face Lenox. “You do realize that was live, don’t you?”

“I kind of got that impression,” he told her.

“You people have a lot of nerve!” Barrington declared angrily as he approached. “You broadcast a private discussion. You’re putting lives at stake when you do this!”

Alyson let out a laugh. “Oh, please. If anything, I only enraged your superiors, and Tristian Salvadori will just get more publicity.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe anyone would have the audacity to call such a man as Salvadori the Antichrist. You need to have your head examined, Chuck.”

McLaughlin shrugged. “Believe what you will. I’m not afraid to tell the world who that man is.”

She turned to regard him. “Really. Well, then…maybe I’ll set you up with an interview. But first…” She smiled at Lenox. “When and where?”

Lenox suddenly laughed and shook his head. “Are you kidding me? You’ve already got what you wanted. You had us all live on your program. I’m not going to give you more.”

“What about you, fireman?” Alyson called out to Dunham. “Are you with these religious nuts who claim that we’re living in the End Times? Do you believe that Tristian Salvadori is the Antichrist?”

Dunham hesitated. “Me?”

“Yeah. You’re the only one standing here with fireman gear on and with your helmet. In your opinion, is Tristian Salvadori the Antichrist? Is he responsible for what happened here today? Does he run AIM?”

“I’m not qualified to answer those questions.”

“Leave him alone,” Erin demanded. “He’s doing his job.”

Alyson sneered at Erin. “Oh, really. Seems to me he’s just standing around with a couple of Jesus Freaks and two agents who might be the only two in the group actually concerned with what happened here.”

Shiva stared at her. “What?”

“I see Matthew Lambert and Michael Lenox as men with jobs to do. Men who don’t appear to be hung up on your so-called Christianity. What are you other people doing here? Hugging each other and patting each other on the back because Chuck has declared himself as a Christian. Are you even thinking about how to catch the real terrorist responsible for what happened here? I think you’ve got your priorities out of sync.” She turned once more to Lenox. “And if I don’t get that interview, you should at least take me to dinner.”

Lenox let out a sigh as if it were a battle he didn’t want to fight. “Okay. Sure.”

She grinned. “Good. I’ll see you later.” She spun on her heels and began walking away with Meers following behind.

“Are you out of your mind?” Barrington demanded of Lenox. “You’re going to have dinner with her?”

Lenox regarded him. “That’s not your business. It’s mine.”

“She just got us on the news,” Erin said, “and made us all look like fools.”

He shook his head. “Nah. Actually, you looked like fools. I think Lambert and I were the only ones who looked like, oh, I don’t know…regular people, I guess. Not like fruit of the looms like you guys.” He grinned.

Barrington sighed. “Michael, this isn’t funny.”

“Sure, it is. Your pride got stepped on. Face it. Besides, you should have expected that kind of reaction and you really should be prepared for a lot more of the same.” He paused. “Now, Chuck…whether this is all true or not, can you prove it? About the Antichrist being responsible and all that?”

McLaughlin shook his head. “No, but I stand by it.”

“Well, that’s nice that you do, but it doesn’t do us any good, does it?”

Lambert let out a sigh. “And even if what you said is true, it still doesn’t tell us who physically did this. I’ve seen the news, too. Salvadori is reported as being in New York City. He’s nowhere near the White House. You’ve got nothing.”

McLaughlin paused. “That’s true. Salvadori isn’t anywhere near the scene here.” He paused. “But I’m sure there are plenty of AIM agents on the scene, and they work for him.”

Director Fuller stared at the television screen as he put his cell phone to his ear. He could hear Barrington’s phone ringing, by his ear and also on the television set. As the ringing continued, he was mortified when McLaughlin said, “Just let it ring. Call whoever it is back. This is important.”

Fuller glared at the screen. “No! Al, don’t listen to him. Pick up!”

At that point, Fronk strode into the room. “What’s up, Skipper? You sounded like the Professor stole your pineapple for a science experiment.” Then, he saw what was happening on television. “Ooh! A new reality series. Hey! Is that Knox?”

Fuller waved his hand at him and shushed him. When he saw that McLaughlin and Lenox had talked Barrington into ignoring the ringing phone, he turned his off. He and Fronk watched the whole thing until Alyson ended the live segment.

“This isn’t good, William.”

Fronk nodded his head. “Yeah…I think they’re right.”

Fuller turned to regard him. “Who’s right?”

“Well, it’s true when they say you gain about ten pounds on tv. Bear, Knox, and Erin looked kinda fat. And Fury?” He let out a whistle and shook his head. “He's huge! Like a barn.”

“You know I’m not amused.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be either if I looked fat on television.”

Fuller just looked at him.

“Did you record that for them so they could watch it later?”

“William!”

Fronk held up his hands defensively. “Okay. Okay, Skipper. I’ll stop now.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t say this is really a bad thing. Nothing of any relevance was given away. So what if Chuckles proclaimed Tristian Salvadori as the Antichrist? We already knew that. And we also suspected he was plotting the President’s death, which is why we set plans of our own in motion.”

Fuller paused. “So you don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“Not a thing.”

“But what about Al, Erin, and Marc. For the first time, they’re implicated as being Christians beside a man who just told the world who the Antichrist is.”

He shrugged. “It’s bound to have happened sooner or later, Skipper. Just tell them to keep a low profile. I think the real question is what about Knox? Where has he been and what is he up to now?”

Fuller paused in thought. “Yeah. I’ve got several questions for him when he returns.” He punched in Barrington’s number again into his cell phone. “Thanks, William. That’s all.”

“Coitenly, Skipper. Nyuck, nyuck.”

As Fronk left the office, Barrington answered his cell phone. “Hello.”

“Well, I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Fuller inquired rhetorically.

There was a pause. “Director, I had no idea we --”

“Don’t worry about it. I just want to talk to Michael. Put him on, will you?”

“Yeah, sure. Hold on.”

There was a longer pause as Fuller waited for several minutes. Finally, Lenox came onto the phone and Fuller got right to the heart of the matter. “Is everything going according to the plan?”

“Yeah,” was Lenox’ quick response.

“So you’re in.”

“Yeah.”

Fuller paused. “Be careful.”

For the third time, Lenox said, “Yeah,” and then hung up.

Fuller held his cell phone and prayed.

Staci and Moore had watched the entire news broadcast and were stunned by it. Staci was disturbed by the way Lenox had drawn his gun and also by the familiarity which Alyson directed toward him. She wasn’t sure she liked that. She knew Lenox wasn’t saved, and so she continued to pray for him every day. She was trusting in God to do the rest. If they were meant to be, He would bring them together. If they weren’t, there was nothing she would be able to do to make a lasting relationship flourish without God leading in that relationship.

Her thoughts must have been evident on her face because Moore noticed them. “You really do have feelings for that young man, don’t you?” he asked softly.

“What?” Staci turned her head to look at him. “Feelings? For who?”

“For Michael, who won’t let me call him son, and who won’t call me Pa. Now I’m afraid if there is gonna be some feelings developing between the two of you, I’ll have to insist on him calling me Pa.”

She just looked at him. Then, she laughed. “Oh, Pa. You’re silly.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? You like him.”

She turned away as she turned off the television set. “What does that have to do with it?”

Moore chuckled. “Well, daughter, I have to tell you. I may be old, but nothing slips by me. You reacted when you saw Michael on TV. You reacted strongly to the woman reporter who addressed him on TV. And now you want me to drive you to Albany, NY, so we can find out when he returned from his vanishing act a while back.” He paused. “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from Albany ‘cause of a certain agency looking for you?”

“I’m sure I’m not that important, Pa. They probably have more serious matters to attend to than to be looking for me.”

“Maybe so, but I recall there having been many such agents looking for you here a short time ago. I believe Son Number One referred to them as AIM agents. I’ve heard of many things when I was myself an agent for the pleasure of the President of the United States, and AIM was one of those things whispered in the dark. It was almost a taboo subject. Back then, we only heard rumors and innuendo’s, but today…Today, I think these AIM fellows are beginning to surface and for some reason, your name is on their list.” He paused. “Your name shouldn’t be on their list, Staci, but since it is…I think there’s only one way to get off of such a list.”

She regarded him for a moment. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the only way to be off their list is…you just have to die.”

Staci straightened her posture and stared at him. “You’re scaring me.”

Moore bowed his head, avoiding eye contact. “Well, now, I’m truly sorry about that. I really am. I just mean for you to take these people seriously, that’s all. Your friends have gone through some trouble in getting you here to hide who you really are. Don’t you think you owe it to them to stay instead of going after a man who may not feel the same way about you as you feel about him?”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t deny what Moore was telling her. She even recognized the warning he was trying to give her. But her mind was already made up. “I’m going to Albany, Pa. You can drive me…or I’ll find another way.”

Moore paused. “We have to stop at the shelter first.”

She regarded him with suspicion. “Why?”

“I need my shotgun. If we go, I’m gonna be prepared because no one is going to lay a hand on you if I have anything to say about it.”

Thirty-eight was the amount of people expected to leave Willow Creek by the following morning or face the repercussions of the angry townsfolk. Having discussed it, King and Saint both agreed that the wise course of action would be to leave the town and dust off the dirt from their shoes. They had spread the Gospel message there as much as they were able to. Those who had heard and responded had joined the Gatherers. The rest were not receptive.

Thirty-eight people had to be gathered from their homes and brought to the church in preparation of leaving the town. Chase was one of the thirty-eight now that he had come to the knowledge of the saving grace of Jesus Christ. He was hoping to make the thirty-eight become a thirty-nine by getting his wife to join them. Janice Chase had already been witnessed to and refused the message. It was Chase’s hope that he would be able to witness to her and get her to see the light.

Saint, King, and all those gathered at the church would do their part by praying. The small gathering inside the church was also uplifting thanksgiving to God for His hand on King. There was no other way King could have survived being shot in such close quarters. God was clearly protecting him.

Chase drove his Ranger to his home, hopeful that his wife would be receptive. As he pulled into the driveway, he was surprised to find her standing on the front porch, waiting for him. Her arms were folded across herself and her dark brown eyes watched him as he turned off the Ranger and climbed out. The front yard was in need of a good raking as the fall leaves were cluttered about every where. A dummy he had stuffed earlier that week was seated in a rocking chair. But the pumpkin he had made as its head had been smashed in and lay on the ground at the bottom of the steps to the porch.

Chase walked toward the porch but stopped when he saw two suitcases at his wife’s feet. “Janice…where are you going?”

Janice kept all emotion from her face. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one who’s leaving.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Robert called. He told me about what happened at the church.”

“Really? Did he tell you that he pointed his gun at an unarmed preacher and fired a bullet at him?”

This time, emotion did show as she glared at him. “Yes. He also told me that the man he shot and killed was a terrorist. What I can’t understand is what you were doing in his company.”

Chase decided not to mention that David King was not dead. He didn’t think Janice would keep that to herself. “Listen to me. You’re right. I’m leaving…but I want you to come with me.”

Janice scowled. “Are you out of your ever-loving mind? Why on earth would I ever want to leave my house with a bunch of whacko’s? Are you telling me you’ve decided to join their righteous cause?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Why can’t you see that it makes sense? The children of this town vanished with a handful of adults because they heard the trumpet and were raptured from this earth. I believe that --”

Janice shook her head. “Oh, I can’t believe you! You are so gullible. Really, Peter! A trumpet?”

“I’m not gullible. I just recognized the truth. Janice, please…you don’t have to accept it now if you don’t want to. Just come with us.”

“I’m not going to accept it now…or ever. And I’m certainly not going with you. I told you. I’m not leaving my home.” She paused. “We were supposed to start a family here, but you changed. You’re a real fruitcake now. I don’t want any part of you.”

He stared at her. “You…you can’t mean that.”

“Shut up, take your belongings that I packed for you, and leave with your new family. I don’t ever want to see you again.” She turned abruptly, went into the house and closed the door.

Stunned, Chase just stood there. Slowly, he went up the steps and then he tried the door. It was locked. He fumbled for his keys, but they wouldn’t work. Had Janice changed the locks? He couldn’t understand why she was doing this. What had he done?

He knocked on the door. “Come on, Janice. Open up! We have to talk about this?”

There was no response.

“I can’t believe you’re willing to throw away four years of our marriage away like this. Open the door!”

From inside the house, Janice’s muffled voice called out, “I’m calling the Sheriff!”

Then, there was silence.

His eyes blurring with tears, he grabbed the two suitcases and carried them to the Ranger. After he tossed them into the back, he looked once more at the house. The windows curtains had all been closed so he couldn’t see inside. He hesitated, wiped at his face, and then climbed back into the Ranger. With no where else to go, he pulled out of the driveway and headed back to Willow Creek Baptist Church with a heavy heart.

Tristian Salvadori sat at his desk in his office. This time, the lights were on. The shades were up, allowing light to shine into the extravagant office, decorated with only the best and most expensive furniture. He rather enjoyed it if any office he worked in could also be a place where he could feel at home as well.

“The visitor you expected is here,” his secretary informed him through the intercom.

“Very good,” Salvadori replied as he got to his feet. “Let’s not keep him waiting, shall we? Send him right in.”

A few moments later, the door opened, and in walked a young man who was beaming with pride at this opportunity. Not everyone had the honor to be invited into the presence of greatness. It was true the world had yet to see the full measure of Tristian Salvadori’s prowess, but Youmud Musad believed it was about to. He knew times were already changing. Through his own father, he had been able to witness the works Salvadori wrought and believed he was the Mahdi, the divinely guided one.

He bowed his head, peeking up at Salvadori respectfully. “It is a great honor to be in your presence, most gifted one.”

Salvadori laughed. “Oh, Youmud. Please. I am as ordinary as your father.”

“Oh, no, your magnificence. Please allow me to say that you are not ordinary. My father was a great man, but you are greater still.”

“Now, young man. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you stop calling me these…wonderful, if true, names. Especially when in public.”

Musad paled. “P-public? No…Am I to actually believe I will have the honor to be seen in public with such greatness?”

Salvadori laughed again. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Please…indulge me. You may lavish any name upon me that you like, but I prefer Tristian. In public, I shall be addressed as…Advocate Salvadori.” A gleam of pride shown through his eyes. “Advocate Tristian Salvadori.” He smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, it is a title worthy of you…Advocate Salvadori!”

He nodded approvingly. “That does have a nice ring to it, and it will most definitely do for now.” He moved to stand before the younger man, holding out his hand. “Allow me to welcome you with offerings of thanksgiving in all that you have done to carry on with your father’s work. A work I had entrusted him with.”

Youmud not only looked pleased, but genuinely humbled in the presence of one he believed was greater than he. “I only desire to do your blessed will, my Advocate.”

Salvadori smiled affectionately at him, as if he were a child who had done something to make a parent proud. “And that is why you are here today, because you will continue to carry out my plans. I know I do not have to tell you what a privilege it is for you to be here because many are called…but so few are chosen.” He paused for affect. “You have been chosen for a very important task. A task I can trust with no other.”

Youmud was speechless. He could only stare in awe as the truth of the matter began to sink in.

“It is by no accident you are here today. Your father and I had foreseen what would transpire as a result of the attacks on the US. Now another phase of the plan can be implemented…and you are just the man to do it.”

“Me…Advocate?”

Salvadori nodded. “You.”

“I…I do not understand this honor. I do not believe I am worthy to do this…but I know I will not let you down. I will serve you in any way I can. Even to my last breath.”

He placed his hands upon the shoulder of the younger man and squeezed them. “I know you will.” Then he patted him on the back. “Come. Let me offer you a refreshment. You may have anything you like. Just name it, and I will get it for you.”

Youmud looked mortified. “Oh, I have no need for anything, Advocate. To be here in your presence is enough.”

“You are a guest here, Youmud. You must accept my hospitality.”

“Oh, no, I-I couldn’t! I am your servant, and I--”

“If you refuse me, then how can you serve me?”

Youmud froze in terror. He stared at his Mahdi with wide eyes, unable to trust himself to speak.

“Great leaders are great servants first. Remember that. If I am not allowed to serve, then how can I lead? Do you understand?”

Youmud nodded, suddenly aware that his throat was very dry.

“Now…can I get you something?”

He swallowed nervously. “Water, please, Advocate.”

Salvadori nodded his head once and headed across the large office to a bar at the back. The bar and refrigerator were stocked well with beverages, and food. He took out two bottles of cold water and carried them over to Youmud. He handed the man one and kept one for himself. He indicated the sofa in the center of the office. “Please…sit.”

Afraid to displease him, Youmud took his bottle of water and sat on the sofa.

Salvadori sat in a recliner next to the sofa, but did not recline in it. He smiled at Youmud as he opened his bottle of water. “There truly is nothing more refreshing than ice cold water.” He took a swallow from the bottle. “Ah! Now, this is a luxury people will soon be fighting over…unless we can prepare for it. Do you agree?”

Youmud nodded. “Yes, Advocate.”

He waved a hand in the air. “Please, Youmud. Stop calling me Advocate after everything you say. It is not necessary.”

“Yes, Advo -” He stopped himself. Then, he nodded. “Of course.”

Salvadori paused. “Good. Now…let us get down to why you are here. As you know, all hostilities have ceased. For the moment, I do have the full backing of the European Union, and they will assist in seizing all nuclear facilities to prevent further blood shed. These facilities will remain in their control. Terrorism has been ended, but the process of moving toward unilateral peace on this planet has only just begun.” He set his bottle of water on the glass coffee table before him. “However, you and I both know that there are a certain select few who will oppose everything we do in spite of the good we are to accomplish.”

Youmud nodded. “Christians and Jews,” he spat out.

“I see that you truly do understand.”

“But…but if there are no further hostilities, how can any of us do what is necessary?”

“Oh, there is coming a time when you will do something necessary. In fact, I would like to send you on a mission of great importance. But first, I must ask you…” He paused. “How is your brother?”

Youmud could not keep the contempt from his voice. “I have no brother.”

“Oh, but you do. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I last saw him in Albany, after the attacks.” He looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “He has denounced Islam! He has become an infidel and is no longer my brother!”

“Did you know that your father had foreseen this?”

Youmud nodded. “I have had many discussions with my father about him. My father confided in me and prepared me to serve you.”

“Yes, he has. Your father and I share a history together. It was I who bade him to choose you over your brother for this task. He wanted to train your brother…but I had chosen you and therefore…you are the one I knew would be here today. Your brother will be taken care of in due time. He will receive his punishment, as all will who continue to rebel against the new world order. A change is coming, my young friend. And it is already upon us. Are you ready for it?

Youmud nodded. “I am.”

“Good, then -”

He was interrupted by his intercom going off on his desk with his secretary’s voice. “Advocate Salvadori…?”

Something dark and sinister flashed in his eyes as he rose to his feet and approached his desk. He pressed the button on the intercom. “Why are you disturbing us when you were clearly told not to?”

There was a pause. “Please, Advocate…I only wanted to warn you what was on television. I thought you would want to see it right away.”

Without another word, he turned off the intercom, picked up the remote control from the coffee table and aimed it at the huge, flat screen television hanging from the wall. There was only one channel it was already tuned into and that was the channel that carried the DEN news. He had been watching it earlier. On the screen now were several men and one woman with the scene of the White House behind them.

Two of the men caught his attention immediately. They were Matthew Lambert and Charles McLaughlin of the Secret Service. He knew about them because he had needed to know about them and had his faithful sources find out all they could know about them. He was familiar with one of the others as well, but only briefly.

“What?” Lambert demanded. “Are you out of your mind? There is no Antichrist, McLaughlin. You mean to tell me that you came back to tell us the Antichrist had the President of the United States assassinated? This isn’t Science Fiction!”

Salvadori pursed his lips in thought. He was aware that the so-called Christian community would begin to give him such an esteemed title, but he hadn’t expected it so early.

“No, it’s not Science Fiction.” McLaughlin stood his ground. “It just happens to be prophecy coming to life. The Antichrist is the one responsible for this attack. He personally orchestrated the whole thing with an agency the world has yet to learn about. That agency is called AIM. Agency Intelligence Merge. AIM’s sole purpose is to carry out the directives set up by Tristian Salvadori, and Tristian Salvadori is the Antichrist.”

Anger gripped Salvadori and he suddenly had the urge to reach through the television set and strangle McLaughlin. Unfortunately, he knew he was unable to do just that. However, he was convinced he could not let this incident pass by without some type of response. After all, his character had just been questioned before one of his partisans.

“What an outrageous lie!” Youmud declared, rising to his feet. “Who is this fool to say such a thing!”

Salvadori held up a hand. “It’s alright. It shall not go unpunished.” He walked over to his desk.

Salvadori had plans he had been working on for most of his life to get him to where he was at that moment. He still had things to do, but because of his ingenuity and preparedness for the future, he had many working for him. AIM was one of those steps he had started and it was an agency designed specifically to carry out his plans for world domination. His plans were so set in stone, he had already had a pawn to take the fall for the President’s demise.

That plan suddenly changed.

He picked up the phone and dialed a secure number.

“Yes,” a voice responded.

Salvadori didn’t waste any time. “The man responsible for the atrocities today at the White House is Charles McLaughlin.”

“This man will be apprehended immediately.”

“No. This man will be killed on sight.” Salvadori hung up the phone and turned to Youmud with a pleasant smile. “I apologize for the interruption. It won’t happen again.” As he rejoined Youmud, he was already thinking of ways to dispose of the secretary for allowing the interruption to begin with and then finding someone to replace her.

“What is wrong with you?” Barrington demanded as he glared at Lenox. He and his best friend moved away from the others so they could have a brief overdue conversation. Barrington had Lenox at the top of his prayer list. He had been deeply concerned about his friends disappearance and felt it was time for some answers.

Lenox, however, continued to astound him.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, glancing at Dunham, and McLaughlin, who were talking together.

Lambert was having a discussion with Shiva and Erin, but occasionally he glared in Lenox’ direction.

“What am I talking about?” Barrington shook his head. “You just made a date with the top reporter for the DEN.”

Lenox shrugged. “So. What’s that to you?”

“I thought you weren’t seeing her.”

“Who are you? My father?”

“Michael, I’m your friend and I’m a little ticked off that you were gone for a long time and won’t tell us where you went. The fact that your going out to dinner with Alyson Moore while investigating the assassination of the President only makes this whole thing infuriating. What are you doing?”

“Having dinner with a reporter doesn’t mean I’m going to talk about the investigation. Give me a little more credit than that.”

Barrington took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m sorry. I apologize for that. I do give you credit.”

Lenox paused. “Apology accepted.”

“Can you at least tell me where you were for the past month?”

Lenox regarded him. “No.”

“Why not?”

Lenox gave it some thought. He recalled when the vanishings had occurred that his partner and Director Fuller were keeping information from him. Information he still wasn’t sure about. He smiled wryly as he realized the tables were turned. “Why don’t you ask the Director about it?” Even as he said it, he realized it was a mistake.

Barrington straightened and glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lenox didn’t answer.

“Are you saying he knows where you were?”

He shook his head. “No, Al. Director Fuller has no idea where I was.” That part was true.

Barrington regarded him for a moment. Something had been bothering him since he had arrived with the others and he didn’t like where it was taking his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any idea what happened here today, Michael? I’m not talking to you as a fellow agent. I want to know as a friend if you have any knowledge of what took place here today.”

Lenox paused. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because something doesn’t add up here and I want the truth.”

“Well, you’re asking the wrong guy.”

Barrington leaned forward. “Am I?”

“You’re out of your tree.”

“You disappeared going after North Korean assassins who attempted to kill the President. Now right after the President is killed, you just happen to show up.”

“Are you seriously telling me you think I had something to do with this?”

“I’m saying there are a lot of questions you should be answering right now.”

Lenox sighed. “Look…Can’t you just trust me right now?”

“Why should I?”

Lenox looked at him as if he had just been slapped. “We’ve been friends since High School. I’ve given you no reason not to trust me. We’ve had each others backs since day one.”

“Times are changing, or can’t you see that.”

“What’s gotten into you? Are you telling me that now since you’ve become a Christian, you’re not going to trust me?” He shook his head. “You’re taking this a little too far.”

“You don’t get it. This is the end of the line, buddy. I’m telling you as a friend, if you continue on the path you’re following, you’re gonna lose. You’re going to lose your soul. Since you haven't come to salvation, your soul is in jeopardy and you may be lost forever. But if you accept Jesus as your Savior, you will reap the rewards of everlasting love and peace.”

“Love and peace?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I know you need peace. I know what you’ve been through and what you’ve been refusing to let go ever since I’ve known you. If you’ll only give it to Him, you will have that peace. But if you don’t, if you continue on this destructive path you’ve placed yourself on, you’re going to isolate yourself and eventually…You’ll turn against us completely.”

Lenox shook his head. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d ever turn against you.”

“Michael, I’m telling you…If you don’t choose Christ, you will turn against us. It isn’t a matter of whether you will or won’t. It’s only a matter of when. The Antichrist has been unleashed in this world. It’s my prayer that you wake up and see the truth before it’s too late.”

Lenox didn’t say anything.

After a brief pause, Barrington said, “Staci’s been worried sick about you.”

Lenox tried to keep the surprise he felt from showing on his face. “Really? She has?” He let out a sigh. “Well, she didn’t have to be.”

“Yeah, well…she can’t help it because it just so happens that she cares for a bum like you.”

The two men regarded each other. Lenox started to smile.

Then, Barrington shook his head. “I imagine her heart will be broken when she finds out you went to dinner with Alyson Moore.”

Lenox hesitated. “Hey…she doesn’t have to know that.”

Barrington rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Hey, look…it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

“Forget it.”

Lenox suddenly found his thoughts taking him to Staci Cohen. He wouldn’t admit it, but he had been thinking about her more than he thought he would. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he found himself more attracted to her than when they had first met. He thought the feeling would have dissipated when he was absent from her. The feelings he had for her only became stronger. He wanted to deny them because he didn’t want her to get involved with him. He didn’t believe he was good for her.

He was about to make a retort when he noticed two men trying to covertly approach them. He realized the two men had their weapons drawn. Then, there was movement to his left and he turned his head. Several other agencies and policemen were closing in on their position with their weapons drawn.

“Al…?” he began, reaching for his weapon.

Barrington tensed when he recognized Lenox’ warning tone. “What are you doing?”

“We’ve got trouble coming?”

Barrington noticed the men. “Yeah…but they’re not after us. They’re after Chuck and the fireman.”

McLaughlin and Dunham were standing beside a fire-truck. Dunham happened to look over on his right where he had seen motion. He saw a man leveling his gun toward McLaughlin and his finger appeared to be tightening on the trigger. Without thinking, Dunham snatched up the firehose, swung it around, and released a heavy spray of water. The water slammed into the agent, and a second agent, and sent them sprawling onto the pavement.

“What are you doing?!” McLaughlin exclaimed.

Dunham turned off the water and frowned. “Oh oh.”

There were more agents coming their way, and they weren’t just after McLaughlin anymore. They wanted him, too.

McLaughlin grabbed a hold of Dunham’s arm and hauled him behind the fire-truck. “I think it’s time to go.”

They went.

“I want that man alive!” Carr shouted as his own team of agents as well as other law enforcement personnel scrambled to carry out his orders.

Averill waited until it was just himself walking beside him as they headed toward the location McLaughlin was last seen in. “Sir…wasn’t the order to kill him on sight?”

Carr snorted. “Of course, it was! What are you, an imbecile? We can’t actually kill him outright in front of so many witnesses.” He glanced around, making certain no one was listening in. He leaned toward Averill. “First we take him into custody. Then… he has an accident as he is being taken to his cell.”

Averill nodded in understanding. “Ah…I didn’t think of that.”

“Obviously.”

They rounded the corner of the West Wing of the White House and began to sprint across the lawn, several other agents keeping pace with them. They could see plenty of action on the long driveway. A fireman actually sprayed a fire-hose to keep several law enforcement officials back.

“Who is that man?!” Carr shouted.

Then, McLaughlin grabbed the fireman and the two men disappeared from view behind the truck.

Shiva and Erin trotted toward the fire-truck but Carr and Averill intercepted them.

“We need them taken into custody immediately!” Carr exclaimed.

Shiva gripped his weapon, glancing around for an enemy he couldn’t see. “Who? Man, I don’t see anyone acting suspiciously.”

Carr sighed. “You should have stayed a wrestler. I’m talking about Charles McLaughlin and the fireman who’s helping him.”

“They didn’t do anything,” Erin replied. “They just --”

“They’re responsible for the assassination of President Walter J. Ballou.”

Shiva shook his head as he and Erin fell into step with Carr and Averill. “I don’t know where you came by that information, but it’s not true.”

Carr scowled. “Either help us or get out of the way. But remember, if you hinder us, you become accomplices to the biggest murder this world has ever seen since the assassination of JFK!”

Suddenly, the fire-truck’s engine roared to life and began to pull away from the White House. McLaughlin was behind the wheel. As he pulled out onto the long driveway, Dunham was just pulling himself into the ladder turntable to help keep the ladder stabilized.

Carr glared after them.

Moore and Staci were on their way to Albany, NY in the Lexus that Moore had his eye on for quite a long while. Staci prayed for a safe journey there and shared a devotional with her driver as he pulled out into traffic, leaving the parking lot of Belgrade Hospital. Just as they were leaving, a nurse at the nurses station on the private wing noticed one of her patients monitors began to indicate a change in the patients condition.

She picked up her phone and pressed in an extension number.

Dr. Timothy Shrenko answered on the second ring. “What is it, Nurse Cerone?”

Nurse Amber Cerone turned her head to look at the monitor. “There’s a change in Dr. Austin’s patient’s condition.”

“And why aren’t you calling Dr. Austin about this?”

She let out a sigh. “Because she just left.”

“Then, page her.”

“Dr. Shrenko, I don’t think she has a pager.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m not even sure she has a cell phone. Maybe personnel can get a hold of her, but in the meantime, don’t you think you could look in on her patient until then?”

There was no reply.

“Dr. Shrenko…?”

Silence was coming from the other end of the phone.

“Hello…?”

She was about to say something else when Shrenko began to walk past the nurses station, heading toward the private room at the end of the hall. “That had better not be a personal call, Nurse Cerone,” he said as he continued to make his way along the corridor.

Nurse Cerone hung up the phone. “I was talking to you! How personal can that be?” Under her breath, she said, “Because everyone knows you have the personality of a lifeless tree stump.”

Shrenko was at the end of the hall. “I can hear you,” he said.

Cerone winced. “Oops.”

Shrenko entered the private room and discovered what the change was in Hank Sumter’s condition. The patient was no longer comatose. Sumter was trying to get out of the bed but the hand rails were up, and in his groggy state it only added to his confusion. Shrenko called for assistance and then turned to the patient. He put his hands on the mans shoulder and tried to calm him down.

“It’s alright,” Shrenko assured him. “You’re in Belgrade Hospital. We’re trying to help you, Mr. Sumter, but I need you to remain calm.”

Sumter tried to focus on him. “No…I-I can’t be here…die…they’re all gonna die…” He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. “Salta…dead valley…Must stop it…”

Nurse Cerone, a second nurse and an orderly entered the room to assist.

“Andes…” Sumter groaned. “Somebody has to…to stop it…”

“What’s he talking about?” Cerone asked.

Shrenko glared at her. “He’s delirious. He’s not talking about anything! He’s just babbling. We need to sedate him.”

Sumter began to struggle harder and the orderly helped Shrenko hold him down while Cerone injected a sedative into his arm. When the patient ceased his struggles, Cerone frowned. “Isn’t Andes the name of a candy maker?”

Shrenko looked at her. “What?”

“The patient said something about Andes. I think that’s the company that makes those little chocolate mints.” She frowned. “Why does he want them to stop making the mints?”

“Never mind that. Just watch him. If he continues to show aggression when he wakes up, we may have to restrain him.” He regarded the patient. “I just hope it was his only initial response in waking up from a coma.”

Shrenko left the room and hurried back to his office. Once inside his office, he closed the door, went behind his desk and sat down. He placed his elbows onto the surface of his desk and put his hands up to his face. He took a deep breath and tried to block out the nervousness he felt rising within him.

He looked at the photo frame on his desk. It was lying face down, but he already knew the picture very well. Hesitantly, he picked up the frame and stood it back up so he could look at her once more.

“Oh, Diana,” he said under his breath, “I miss you.”

Suddenly, the phone rang.

He jumped. Then, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to be calm. The phone rang again and he reached for it. Just as it was about to ring a third time, he picked it up. “Nurse Cerone, this better be good.”

A man’s voice responded. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

Shrenko froze. He recognized the voice. It was the man who had led a team of agents into his hospital with intentions of taking Hank Sumter and Staci Cohen. Shrenko didn’t understand what had happened that made the agents leave without the ones they were after and had begun to think it was over. But with the voice of Commander Thomas Friend coming through to him on the other line, he was now beginning to feel as if their troubles had only just begun.

“Dr. Shrenko…?”

Shrenko swallowed. “I’m here.”

“Is it possible to speak with Dr. Austin?”

Shrenko paused. “No.”

“Is she with her patient?”

He knew Friend was referring to Sumter. “No. No, she isn’t here.”

There was a pause. “Where is she?”

“I’d…I’d rather not say.”

There was another pause. “What about the patient? Is he well?”

Shrenko hesitated, “Yes. Look…what do you want? I got the impression you were after them but instead, you let them go. I don’t know what you’re out to accomplish, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t involve myself or my staff. Our hands are quite full enough as it is.”

“We’re all involved whether you want to believe that or not. No one sits on the sidelines. When you said he was well, can you be more specific?”

“There is such a thing as patients confidentiality.”

“Tell me if he has come out of his coma.”

Shrenko frowned. “Why do you want to know?”

“So he did.” He paused. “Did he say anything to you?”

Shrenko hesitated. “He was delirious. He wasn’t making any sense and I really doubt it would mean anything but gibberish to you.”

“Try me.”

He sighed. “He mentioned something about a dead valley, Salta, and Andes. He also said that they - whoever they are - are all going to die. Then, he had to be sedated because he was getting a little worked up.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive.”

There was a pause. “I need to see him.”

“What? When?” Shrenko frowned. “Are you saying you’re coming here?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“But--”

The dial tone sounded in his ear. His caller had hung up.

Thirty-seven people were gathered at the Willow Creek Baptist Bible Church, having decided that it was the safest place to be for the night in lieu of what had happened with the Dells on the night before. As evening drew on, they gathered in the large room next to the kitchen for dinner. King led them in prayer and blessed those gathered together, asked for God’s protection and guidance, and thanked Him for His provisions.

As they began to eat, Chase arrived, but when he entered, his countenance was not the same as it was when he had first accepted Jesus as his Savior. King was about to get up from the table, but Saint waved him back down. He got up and walked toward Chase, meeting him in the doorway. Then, the two men went outside the church and stood on the steps to talk privately.

After Chase told Saint what had happened between him and his wife, he said, “Now what am I supposed to do with all of this? We’ve been married for four years and she…Now she doesn’t want any part of me. John, is this what being a Christian is all about? I mean…I just get saved, and then, I lose my wife, all in the same day and in less than an hour. I mean…come on! I wasn’t expecting that.”

Saint shook his head. “Of course, you weren’t.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Turn my back on Christ and try to win my wife back?”

Saint paused. “Is that what you want to do?”

“No, it isn’t.” He let out a weary sigh. “It’s just that…I wish I could make her see the truth. Why is she so adamant on fighting against it?”

He shrugged. “Some people just don’t want to believe. It goes against everything they hold on to. That’s usually how it goes, Pete. When people are faced with the truth, it is easier to hang onto a lie because it hurts less than the truth. Maybe all you can do for Janice is to let her be and pray for her. If she doesn’t want any part of you, it’s really Christ she doesn’t want any part of.”

“But the alternative, John…” Chase shook his head sadly. “I don’t want Janice to face eternity like that.”

“No one does. Just pray for her.”

“And leave her?”

“Do you think she’ll let you back in?”

Chase shook his head. “No. She’s already changed the locks.” He paused. “Man, she did that sometime before Bob came in and took a shot at David.” He frowned. “Whoa…I can’t believe this. John, she changed the locks even before I got saved! I…” He stopped when he noticed motion somewhere on his right. He turned his head and saw cars pulling into the parking lot.

Saint saw them, too. But he didn’t like what he saw.

The vehicles pulled into the lot and began to circle around the church. Some of them even drove up onto the lawn. When the vehicles stopped, people got out and then they just seemed to wait.

“This isn’t good,” Saint said softly.

One of the men who got out of the first vehicle that had come up to a stop walked toward Saint and Chase. He was a big man, but his presence was further made disturbing by the shotgun he held in his hands. He lowered the barrel toward the ground but when he looked up at Saint and Chase up on the steps, his glare was full of hostility.

“Why haven’t you all left yet?” he demanded.

Saint and Chase exchanged looks.

“The Sheriff told us to be gone by the morning,” Saint told him. “Does it look or feel like morning to you, Kevin?”

Kevin Snyder glared up at him. “Don’t get smart with me, Saint. He said to be gone by the morning. If you had all left, then no one will be here by the time the sun rises…so you all should have left by now.”

“You know, I’d expect that kind of reasoning from a redneck like you.”

“Don’t push me!”

Saint looked down at him. “Why? Did you come here to shoot me and everyone else inside?”

Snyder didn’t answer.

He stood up and raised his arms. “If that’s what you’re here for, why don’t you just do it?”

Chase looked at him. “John, man…don’t antagonize him.” He stepped off the bottom step and approached Snyder. “Why don’t you and the others turn around and go home. By morning, everyone will be gone and there will be no trouble.”

Snyder glared at him. “I expect that means you’ll be gone, too, since you’ve become one of them. At least you’d better be gone. You’re not welcome around here any more, especially if you’ve taken up with them.”

Behind Snyder, a crowd was gathering, and they were hostile. Some carried baseball bats, or some type of club. Others had guns. Behind the crowd, the Sheriff’s vehicle pulled up and came to a stop on the side of the road. Hoag and Janice climbed out.

Chase almost held his breath.

“What’s going on here?” Hoag demanded.

Snyder scowled. “We just wanted to make sure they were leaving, Sheriff.”

“They are. They have until morning. All of you get back into your cars and leave. The members of this church will be gone after tomorrow morning and you won’t have to deal with them any more.”

“They know where our children are!” someone exclaimed from the crowd. “Make them tell us!”

Hoag sighed. “Look. This town has experienced enough tragedy. Just go home.”

“They have a terrorist in there!” exclaimed another. “You told us that yourself!”

“I took care of him. Now go home! Now. I’m not kidding around here, people. If you think I won’t start dragging you all in, one by one, don’t be fooled. Now I…” He stopped when he saw the man who had just stepped out from the doors of the church. His mouth fell open in surprise.

David King stood up on the top of the stairs and looked down at the crowd.

“Is that him?” someone asked. “Is that the terrorist?”

But no one moved. Whether it was because of the presence of King and the bold authority he displayed or because of something else, no one made any move. Hoag stared up at King in astonishment. In his mind, he knew there was no way that man could be up there, standing before the crowd. This man should have been dead.

King stood there, looking out at the crowd. He seemed to make eye contact with everyone. And then he spoke. “‘And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gideon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae; of David also, and Samuel, and of the prophets: Who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions. Quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. 1’”

No one moved. They just all stood there, looking up at King.

Janice moved forward to stand beside Hoag, concerned about why the Sheriff suddenly looked so pale.

King knew he had the crowds attention. “Several years ago, a Historian named Studs Terkel published a book about World War II called The Good War. This title was perplexing to many because, after all…what is good about war? And especially what can possibly be good about a war in which over fifty million people had perished? But Terkel had interviewed hundreds of G.I.s and their families. His interviews took place many years after the war was over, so those interviewed had the perspective of time and history on their side. These soldiers, looking back, recalled that World War II was good for them because it lifted them above the limitations of their personal lives and let them be a part of a global cause that was far greater than themselves. It was good because the united sacrifice was for something they deeply believed in, and it was for the preservation of goodness on this earth.” He paused as he regarded the faces looking up at him. Then, he looked at Chase and Saint for what he said next was aimed at them and not at the crowd. “There’s nothing more worthwhile than knowing that we are God’s soldiers, serving Him, participating in a global cause of eternal significance. We need a purpose greater than ourselves. Live in such a way so that you, like the apostle Paul, may proclaim, ‘I have fought the good fight. 2’”

Saint nodded his head.

Chase stood a little taller.

Hoag finally found his voice. “I put a bullet into you.”

King paused. “Actually, the bullet was passed through me…but that is beside the point. The point is that we are in a Good War and I am here to tell you, Sheriff, that you are on the wrong side.”

Snyder raised his shotgun. “Well, if the Sheriff missed you, I’ll take a shot at you!”

King shook his head. “No, you won’t. This day is not going to end in violence. You are all going to leave us in peace, and in the morning, we will be gone. Just remember this day on how the Devil has divided your town and deceived you from the truth. Perhaps one day, your eyes will be opened for that will be my prayer for you. Until then, go on your way and think on these things.”

To the surprise of Snyder, some of the people were turning back and getting into their cars. The crowd was moving away.

Chase turned to look at his wife. “Janice…?”

Janice ignored him as she took the stunned Sheriff by the arm and led him back to his car.

Finally, only Snyder remained with his shotgun. He looked up at King, Saint, and Chase. Then, he puffed out his chest and said, “Fine! But when I come back here in the morning…you’d all best be gone!” With that, he spun around and headed for his own car.

When they were all gone, King placed one hand on Saint’s shoulder and the other hand on Chase’s shoulder. “Gentlemen, let us go back inside and break bread together. There is much to do in the next few days and we will need our strength.”

They went back inside the Willow Creek Baptist Church.

1 - Hebrews 11:32 - 34
2 - II Timothy 4:7

With the sirens blasting away, McLaughlin kept his foot pressing into the pedal. The fire truck sped along 17th Street and away from the White House. In the rear of the fire truck, Dunham fought to keep the large, extended ladder under his control. The traffic was sparse because many of the vehicles which had been affected due to the attack had been removed and the vehicles on the road were only a few in number. Mostly it was government or law enforcement vehicles that were in operation, including emergency vehicles. Anyone who didn’t work for the government or law enforcement hurried to get out of the way.

Driving along 17th Street wasn’t a problem for McLaughlin.

The police cars and other agency vehicles pursuing them were a problem. There was even a black helicopter flying overhead, keeping right with them.

McLaughlin let out an impatient sigh, shook his head, and glared into the rear view mirror. He and Dunham were in quite a fix, and the only thing ahead of them for the next several miles was the World War II Memorial, the John Paul Jones Memorial, and the Tidal Basin. None of which were promising prospects for him to lose their pursuers. He could take either a right or a left onto Constitution Ave, but one led to the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge and the other eventually led back onto Pennsylvania Avenue. He decided to keep going straight for the moment. His options were thin as it were so all he had going for him was to persevere and to keep moving forward.

One thing was for certain.

He had to lose the fire truck. And he felt bad for Dunham because the younger man was now implicated as an accomplice into the assassination of the President of the United States of America. If the fireman hadn’t of been with him, he would still be at the White House with his squad instead of running from the law with him.

It all seemed unreal somehow. Events for the past several months had seemed to pass by in a blur and things for the entire world had just fallen apart. Now the world was experiencing hardships like never before, and a man who magazines were calling a savior had appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the promise of a better life for everyone. It made McLaughlin sick to think about it. Unfortunately, people were starting to look to Tristian Salvadori for the answer and he and Dunham were suddenly unwitting pawns.

The race continued as the fire truck hurried toward the end of 17th Street.

McLaughlin suddenly had a plan. “Josh!” he shouted.

Dunham turned his head to look toward the fire truck’s cabin. “Yeah!”

“Can you swim?”

Dunham stared at the man driving the truck. Then, he saw why he had been asked the odd question. They were just passing the World War II Memorial and directly ahead was the John Paul Jones Memorial, standing tall and reaching for the sky. But beyond that, there was a long stretch of blue.

It was the Tidal Basin.

“What are you thinking?!” Dunham shouted.

McLaughlin couldn’t resist a wry smile. “I’m thinking…we’re gonna go for a swim.”

The fire truck maneuvered around the Memorial and as soon they were past it, McLaughlin floored it for all it was worth. Dunham held on for dear life as the fire truck bounced hard over the curb and sped onto the gree