|
 |
|
Only God knows who was shooting missiles at the United States. America quickly became a blind gladiator after its military eyes in the sky were knocked out. Soon the entire world was in a similar predicament, firing missiles at neighboring nations whom they suspected were firing missiles at them. World War III is a global nuclear riot. But there are more advanced weapons than missiles involved. The possessors of those weapons were aboard space shuttles converted into armed nuclear warships with a laser strike capability called THE GREAT SWORD. They could cut a city into pieces in a few minutes and return to an orbiting space station out of reach of their pursuers. By covert diplomacy and random attacks, they were able to take peace from the earth; deceiving the nations into attacking one another, with the intent of immobilizing the militaries of the world.
Embassies were burned. Staff from various diplomatic teams were assassinated. Political riots flooded the streets of the world. The nations were rattling sabers. Commercial jets blown out of the sky. Hostages taken. Ships attacked at sea. Terrorists attacks increased everywhere. Treaties broken. Fuel shortages instigated. Stock markets collapsing. The entire world was troubled.
<.................................PASTE IN ENDS HERE FROM OLD>
A great slice between moss caked boulders at the top of Granite Mountain appeared as though God struck it through with his sword. Up from the darkness of the narrow opening between the rocks two hands wrestled for leverage as Joed made his way out of the massive underground hidden deep in the recesses of the towering mountain.
Dawn was breaking forth. He came before sunrise daily to face East in prayer with the powerful voice God gave him in the Spirit.
Even though mountain climbers occasionally came across the sword sliced entrance to the underground, few would dare to climb into its mouth for fear of what might be waiting down there in its dark chambers. When the chamber was explored a few weeks earlier, nothing was found to give away the existence of an inhabited underground within the mountain.
Joed's feet crunched the soft carpet of crumbled brown leaves cushioning his steps between the maze of boulders leading to his perch on top of the world. Cheerful songs of birds could already be hard near and far. They were excited about another day. Happy to see the man they had come to love.
Joed was walking softly above the clouds watching carefully for trouble. The splendor of the mountaintop greatly increased his desire to be one with God in the goodness of his Spirit. Cold mountain winds bit his face fiercely.
Puffs of white clouds drifted by the aged Seer as he moved cautiously to his place in the wonders of creation. Boulders were piled on the mountain as though God tossed them like huge grains of sand from his hand. Some of the boulders were flat stepping-stones for Joed's feet. There with hands raised to God, he could feel the divine Presence of the Lord as he sang in the beauties of holiness.
Joed's eye was fixed straight ahead in full consciousness as the sun steadily arose from the other side of distant mountains in blinding light. Stars fled from the perception of mankind as the sky put on a princely blue garment. This was about to be an eventful day in history.
The Lamb of God opened the second of seven Seals on the Book in heaven in a great spectacular of a ceremony before Him who sits upon the throne with millions of angels present "AND THERE WENT OUT ANOTHER HORSE THAT WAS RED: AND POWER WAS GIVEN TO HIM THAT SAT THEREON TO TAKE PEACE FROM THE EARTH, AND THAT THEY SHOULD KILL ONE ANOTHER: AND THERE WAS GIVEN UNTO HIM A GREAT SWORD."
The vision was more dynamic and colorful than anything mortal man could put on film. All creation suddenly seemed to pale before Joed as he returned to himself.
The President of the United States was in an early morning meeting with the Director of the FBI trying to pin a terrorist label on Joed when the Secretary of Defense hurried into the Oval Office pale as a ghost. "Sir! The nuclear nations are mobilizing. There is already satellite evidence ICBM's are in the air from land and sea. We have no idea who is shooting who!"
The President unlocked a hidden wall safe to grab the briefcase containing nuclear keys and hurried outside where his helicopter carried them to a secret bunker deep in the earth. A few minutes later the President rushed inside the war room.
Doctor Weinstein hurried to the front to speak to the men gathered in the spiritual war room. There was silence in the room. "We're in the time of the second Seal. It would be smart for us to review some facts of potential use. First of all, we are not safe inside Granite Peak if a nuclear warhead explodes in the air near our location nor are any of our Network undergrounds safe."
"Pound for pound a nuclear bomb is 100,000 times more powerful than dynamite. A nuclear bomb explodes in every direction and produces a blast of compressed air moving five to six times the force of a hurricane. The PSI on our underground could double or triple in a moment and cave it in burying us alive."
"If our underground collapses under attack, a gigantic fireball similar to the heat of the sun could increate us and everything flammable would burn or explode including our flesh. No-one would survive in such circumstances"
Doctor Weinstein paused for the men to get their breath. Some of them did not realize how dangerous the situation was until now they were in it. "Is there anything we can do?" Tony Cruz wanted to know. He could be counted on to spill his emotions in a crisis.
"Yes, we can trust the Lord," Doctor Weinstein replied matter of factly. "We're not a target. No-one knows we are hiding inside this mountain. If there is a nuclear explosion nearby, we've got a better chance than those who did not build an Ark for survival."
"What about radioactive fallout?" Sebastian asked as Fleet Commander.
"It's going to become a great danger," Doctor Weinstein answered, particularly if a nuclear explosion occurs within a hundred miles or if the wind blows radioactive fallout our way."
"I've got the latest wind reports for the world going back fifty years," Mike Maack volunteered. "As soon as there is knowledge of attacks, I'll be able to provide some idea of what to expect."
"It will prove helpful to find out if you can the size and number of blasts carried by a wind," Doctor Weinstein shot back. He didn't say so, but he did not like to be interrupted in the middle of a thought.
"What about electrical blackouts?" Mike Maack asked. "I'm afraid my computer programming might become damaged and everything we do is run by computers."
"Yes, there's almost a certainty we will experience blackouts," Doctor Weinstein explained. "But our generators are capable of starting back up manually too. The best thing to do with backup programming is send it down the tunnel deeper into the mountain for storage. A nuclear explosion particularly one high above us, can smash electrons in the air into the earth's magnetic field and produce surges that could do everything from blowing out fuses to exploding computers in your face."
"Is there anything we can do to minimize the risk?"
"Certainly," Doctor Weinstein advised. "Turn computers off when they're not in use and minimize your use of them during the nuclear riot. You can also take precautions to double and triple the insulation on all your computer wiring so an electromagnetic surge in the air can't penetrate into your system so easily, and you can put every antenna away when not in use. You wouldn't walk around in a lightning storm with an antenna in your hand would you?"
"No Sir," Mike replied.
"Did your generation ever learn how to work a slide rule to make your calculations?" the old man asked sarcastically. Mike Maack still didn't get it. It doesn't pay to interrupt Doc Weinstein when he's talking. But his lips were sealed tighter than Joed's mind now.
"What about radiation infected soil?" Bob Ford asked as Food Production Chief. "How long does it take for the soil to get free of it and what danger is there in eating food grown in it?"
"Radiation stays in soil a long time. The danger is not so much in eating food grown in contaminated soil, but contaminated soil hinders food products from growing properly just like newborn babies come out of the womb malformed by a Mother's drug use. You should already have all of the good soil you need stored up inside Network undergrounds. I don't know if its safe to go outside now, so you would probably be better off feeding nourishments into the soil you are using."
"What about radiation contaminated people?" Jeremiah Jones asked. "If Security allows them into an underground, will they contaminate others?"
"Certainly. Anyone accompanying a radiation contamination of any kind is subject to injury by it. If Security lets them in without checking for radiation, others may be contaminated too. We have a quarantine room in most of the undergrounds for just such a purpose and radiation suits are on hand for whoever needs them."
"What numbers do we look for to draw the line Doc?"
"Radiation dosages are measured in Rems on your dosimeter. Anything above a hundred Rems is threatening. Doses above three hundred are deadly."
"What are the symptoms?" Doctor Goldman asked.
"At a hundred Rems look for nausea, vomiting, headaches and the loss of some white blood cells. At three hundred look for temporary hair loss, internal damage to nerve cells, digestive tract damage, a severe loss of white blood cells increasing vulnerability to infections and disease, and reduced production of blood platelets to aid blood clotting so victims of radiation sickness are vulnerable to hemorrhaging."
"When should we expect patients to die?" Doctor Goldman asked pleasantly as always.
"Doses in the four hundred and fifty Rem range will produce death at a fifty percent ratio. The others you can save with wise treatment and lots of rest. They'll need regular blood transfusions to carry off contaminates and lots of water to flush their systems. It would be a good idea to disable their apparatus if they're sexually active."
Just as those words left his mouth the cavern shook terribly and lights flickered off and on erratically. Joed rushed to help Doctor Weinstein to his feet. The Devil who goes about as a roaring lion was knocking on their door. P> In the Southern portion of Washington State, a giant weighing 325 pounds stepped down from the cab of a big rig. Big Tim was parting company with his natural brother, Cowboy. There were tears in his eyes. "You sure you won't change your mind and come into the underground?" he asked his curly headed brother.
"Naw, I reckon I made up my mind to die with my boots on," Cowboy answered stubbornly. "I cain't see livin' in self-imprisonment for seven long years."
"Okay," Big Tim replied. "I gotta go. My bus is leaving."
Cowboy roared off with the sound of a jet on a runway as he left off the throttle on his big rig. He hit the horn to trumpet goodbye.
"Bahooooooooooga! Bahoooooooooooooga!"
Tim waved from the line outside of the Greyhound and wiped some more tears from his eyes. He knew he wouldn't see Cowboy again.
He was hoping for two seats due to his size, but the bus was full. So he squeezed into a seat with his legs extending into the aisle. A lovely young Texas woman beckoned to him to let her in to the window seat. It was the last seat on the bus. He sighed as he struggled out of the too small seat to accommodate her. She hid behind a killer thriller novel without taking any further notice of him. He wasn't her type.
Big Tim listened to the radio with earphones on as the Greyhound headed south toward Eugene, Oregon. They drove through lush green countryside where there was an occasional farmhouse. A stench filled the Greyhound when they passed a farm with hundreds of cows wallowing in mud. Some of the properties they passed were like junkyards, others were neat and orderly.
They were well into their journey when Big Tim suddenly cried out. "Ohhh Noooo! It's finally happening!!!"
The young woman looked up from her book thinking she was trapped on the inside seat next to a nut and the other passengers around him were irritated at the threat of such a big man suddenly emotionalizing. Big Tim saw the driver glaring at him in the rear view mirror. He pulled the earphones plug and turned the volume up so others could hear the broadcast. The President of the United States was speaking:
"THERE IS AN ARMY OF MULTIPLE WARHEADS ABOVE THE EARTH'S ATMOSPHERE HEADING FOR AMERICA. THE STRATEGIC DEFENSE COMMAND IS DOING EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO STOP THEM FROM ENTERING OUR AIR SPACE WHERE THEY WILL DISPERSE MISSILES TOWARD VARIOUS TARGETS. WE ARE AT WAR. WE EXPECT HEAVY CASUALTIES ON BOTH SIDES, BUT THAT IS TO BE EXPECTED IN THIS KIND OF 'COME AS YOU ARE' WARFARE. I'M ASKING EVERY AMERICAN TO DO EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO KEEP THIS NATION FREE."
Some of the passengers panicked. Many couldn't believe it was true. Big Tim rose to his feet and struggled toward the driver in the narrow aisle way. "Driver, I want off of this bus right away. There's no targets up here in the Northwest that I know of, an' you're heading toward San Francisco where nukes ill'be sure to land."
"Listen Orson Wells. You've upset the passengers on my bus with your game, and I get paid to run my route. So just on back to your seat. You paid to go straight through to Frisco and straight through to Frisco you go. That's the deal you made. There will be no unscheduled stops."
Big Tim struggled back to his seat past the glares of some of the passengers.
"I knew Russia couldn't be trusted," one of the male passengers complained bitterly across the aisle to Big Tim as he sat back down next to the young woman who was immersed in her novel again.
Big Tim looked over to him saying. "The European Community is tricking us into war with Russia."
The man was white faced with fear. "You're crazy man! You heard the President!"
Big Tim persisted. "The President doesn't know the prophecies."
"Prophecies? Man you don't think the President declared war on Russia because he guessed they were attacking us? He has ways of knowing what's going on!"
Big Tim persisted. "The European superstate is the rider of the red horse that takes peace from the earth. They are given a great sword."
"Look man, nobody believes the Bible anymore. I've read it. None of the stuff you're talking about is in there. The European Community is an economic block. They're our allies. The Russians could be the rider of the red horse. Their hammer and sickle flag is red."
Big Tim was sorry he had gotten into a debate. The entire bus was in an uproar. One of the passengers shouted from his seat. "It's true! It's true! I've got a battery operated TV. It's in the news. We're under nuclear attack!"
Another passenger turned around in her seat. "I know. I called my parents. They said it's on the news. War is breaking out all over the earth."
Several other passengers confirmed it too. They were panicked. Some rushed to the front to confront the driver who answered them just as forwardly as he had done with Big Tim. "You people can go back to your seats. You don't cut my paychecks. You paid to go to San Francisco. That's where we're going unless management tells me otherwise."
A black man grabbed the driver by the hair to teach him good manners and the Greyhound swerved out of its lane nearly causing an accident. Some of the other passengers grabbed the man and pulled him back to his seat kicking and screaming profanities. So they had to tie him to his seat. "Look man!" One of the passengers pointed out. "You can't be jumpin' on the driver like that! You'll get us all killed."
A male passenger seated behind Little Tim tapped him on the shoulder. "Say brother. I'm returning from Jerusalem where the rapture was supposed to take place. My parents kicked me out when I asked for my house and car title back. I'm on my way to the big city to look for work. You seem to know the prophecies. What's going on?"
"We are in the time of the Second Seal and are under attack by the rider of the red horse of the apocalypse."
"Who might that be?"
"Most likely ten major European powers. The ten horns of Mystery Babylon spoken of by John the prophet."
"Kind of scary, huh?"
Big Tim's neck was getting a cramp from turning around to talk to the man, so he tried to cut it short with an agreeable nod.
"When will they be here?" the Christian brother persisted.
"ICBM's can travel at 20,000 mph. So it probably wouldn't take much more than a half hour to get to a target once they're launched."
"Oh God I'm scared. What can an ICBM do?"
Big Tim shuffled around in his seat to get a better position. "Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles can carry multiple warhead payloads with megatons of blast power. They're like gigantic bullets that can break into shot gun blasts when they reach a target and take out anywhere up to a million people."
"No wonder you tried to get the driver to turn around. He's probably like me. I didn't realize how dangerous nuclear war could be."
"Yeah, we're heading right into a prime target area. Our best bet would be to head back to Washington State or better yet one of the nearest non target states like Montana."
Big Tim turned around in his seat and couldn't help but notice the pretty young woman who had been ignoring him the entire trip was listening attentively. She looked him in the eye with tears running down her cheek. The feminist movement in American was coming to a screeching halt. Women were looking to men to lead again.
The Greyhound was making good time. Too good for Big Tim's liking. He was wishing he had stayed in the underground where he belonged. He watched the sky for an ICBM. He knew what they looked like. There was the Golden Gate Bridge. The blue sky was clear above it. He thought he saw something approaching. Yes! It has a tail of smoke and fire like a comet!
"Oh my God!" one of the passengers screamed.
The sky lit up as though the sun had come down to the earth. All creation disappeared in a blast of light. The coach swerved dangerously, but there was no longer anything visible to tell them they were still on the highway. The bus was suddenly swept off the ground into a tumbling storm of debris as Big Tim tried to hang onto the seat in front of him. He saw the glint of glass smashing in as if rocks had been thrown through every window at once. The bus was exploding. He held on with all his might in the chaos of the strange flight where there was no longer any sound until the bus crashed like an airplane skidding in screaming agony of metal to a stop. Then the big man sank into unconsciousness.
Many Christians in America thought the nuclear bombardment was the great shaking of the whole world spoken of in the prophecies. Every nation was shaken. But the great shaking of the sixth Seal was yet to come.
God was hearing an amazing increase in prayers. They were legal everywhere. Many were crying out for forgiveness of sins. Churches were packed for prayer meetings. Government officials stayed home. Television sets blacked out. The nation was in darkness.
Americans who said its colors did not run, were trembling every moment for fear of their lives. Conventional warfare was obsolete. Individuals were helpless to rally against an unseen enemy. War was removed from the hands of many to the hands of few.
In an underground silo along the nuclear highway dividing East from West, a mutiny was taking place. Eight soldiers armed with handguns pointed them at Colonel F.C. Brown. "Colonel, you mean to tell me you intend to sit there in your chair and not fight back until you hear from the President of the United States?"
"I'm not waiting to hear from the President," the Baptist officer replied. "Regulations require us to wait for word from a higher authority before firing our arsenal of ICBM's."
"There might not be any higher authorities left?" one of the terrorized men wanted to know. "We want those ICBM's in the air before we get blown off the face of the earth like they did at White Sands."
"I can't do that," the Colonel replied patiently. "We could kill a million or more innocent people and leave ourselves emptied handed against the real aggressors if we presume Russia is attacking us."
"Who else could it be Colonel?" one of the mutineers growled while pushing the gun against his head.
"Europe," he replied.
"That's a joke," the mutineers laughed together. "They're our allies."
"They want you to think so," the Colonel answered humbly. "Deception is one of the most powerful weapons in warfare."
"We don't really care who's guilty or who's innocent Colonel. We want to make sure there is less firepower out there to shoot at us." A mutineer snarled pushing his gun hard against the believer's head. "Are you willing to die rather than fire those ICBM's?"
"Yes."
"Bammm!"
The Colonel slumped forward in his chair with mutineers wide eyed at what they had done. The murderer turned around to face them. "The only good Christian is a dead one. Get the Colonel's suitcase and let's erase Moscow from the map!"
"But only the Colonel knows the combination to the suitcase."
"No big deal," one of the mutineers declared. "Get that crowbar over there. We'll have it open in a minute."
They set the suitcase on a table and proceeded to jam the crowbar into it, twisting and turning until the latch released.
"KA-BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!
Seven of eight mutineers lay dead. Bathed in blood. The eighth regained consciousness and crawled to the Colonel's chair where he pulled the corpse to the floor. From there he typed an all points bulletin saying: "NUCLEAR HIGHWAY SILO 77778. COLONEL BROWN KILLED. MUTINEERS DEAD. SECRET SUITCASE DESTROYED. ICBM'S READY IN SILO'S. BADLY WOUNDED. SEND HELP."
Forty-five minutes later he despaired. No one was responding. He sent the bulletin again. A message popped up on the screen surprising him. "OPEN THE ESCAPE HATCH AND CONFIRM. SEND COORDINATES. WE'LL BE RIGHT THERE TO RESCUE YOU."
The killer didn't perceive it was a civilian contacting him. He was energized by the hope of getting away with murder again. He staggered to his feet driven by an insane desire he crawled to the escape hatch. There with superhuman help he released a steel door weighing five tons. In came radiation burning his nose and eyes. He fled, struggling to retain his balance and makes it to a door. Behind him a black radiating mist followed in the form of a demon of death. He jerked open the ordinary door and slammed it! The door held him up. He staggered along the corridor to the Control Room where he threw himself into the Colonel's bloody chair to send the coordinates.
He awakened in a gurney in an all metal and cement environment reminding him of a jail cell. A strangely kind face looked down upon him lying with intravenous needles in his arms and legs. "Where am I?"
"Oh, you're in good hands."
The mutineer looked around from the gurney and spied hard bunks with thin mattress and a steel toilet. This place was looking more like a prison. "Where are my ICBM's?" he demanded.
The Doctor looked at the murderer. "Mike Maack took care of them."
"What?"
The good doctor smiled down at the emaciated patient before answering. "He disarmed them."
Thinking he was in a military prison, the murderer continued to make a case for patriotism. "But I wanted to knock out a million commies in Moscow!"
"What happened to Colonel Brown? It looked like he was shot in the head."
Thinking it was fashionable to hate Christians, the murderer bragged. "The only good Christian is a dead Christian."
"I'm a Christian," the Doctor replied. "And I just saved your life."
"Well, I didn't kill him, the mutineers did."
Another voice he didn't know was in the room answered him. "Dead witnesses tell no lies. You pulled the trigger."
Another face appeared to the man on the gurney. He looked up to see an older scientific type with a clipboard scratching notes as he talked. His stare was stern.
"Blood on your clothing matched Colonel Brown's, and gun powder was on your hands and shirt," the older man declared. "You murdered the officer in charge of your station."
Jeremiah Jones opened the door with his voice and strode in. "Gentlemen, this is one patient you should have let die. He's of no use to us."
"He's an animal," Doctor Goldman told Jones apologetically, looking up to the extraordinary specimen of a man.
"We'll see if there isn't something he can do to earn his keep if the men decide not to hang him," Jones replied as he wheeled the gurney swiftly to a bunk where Jones moved the prisoner bodily with Doctor Goldman holding intravenous bottles. They were left hanging above the bunk while Jones unbuckled the restraints.
The murderer sank into a deep sleep dreaming the roof was caving in. Rocks and dirt and dust fell on him helpless in the bunk burying him.
Ceilings in Reno's underground were collapsing from Nuclear concussions shaking the earth a few hundred miles East. Red Scarborough looked at monitors revealing the disaster within his underground.
He had made deal with John Jacobs to cut back on the purchases of building materials so they could pocket a bonus for a job well done on schedule. The Control Center was built to spec's, housing was cut short.
A burdensome weight of guilt pounded in Red Scarborough's heart like a hammer. He closed his eyes and was the one hammering on the walls of his heart trying to get out. He sat up and struck his fists together. Every steel door was blocked. Some of his best friends were laying dead in the underground. From what he could see on the monitors, there were no survivors.
A sign painted on the door intimidated him. It said: "SCARBOROUGH UNDERGROUND CONTROL CENTER." But he wasn't in control of Scarborough. He had the sign put up to let his underground members know they were under his authority and not Joed's, now he couldn't even think of asking Joed for help. The Seer would dig into the underground and discover it wasn't built according to the blueprints. Red shed tears of gold. The pain of his grief was unbearable. He humbled himself before God.
"I'm a lousy shepherd Lord. You didn't lose any of your sheep, I lost most of mine. And for what? The money we saved probably won't buy a cup of coffee after this nuclear attack is over. Can you forgive me Lord? How can I face all my friends in the world to come with this weight of guilt on my conscience? I need forgiveness Lord. I need wisdom. I need peace. You are my Alpha and Omega, my beginning and end. Have mercy on us?"
Red looked up from his prayer. Another concussion shook the earth. "Ben! Hank! Wake up! Come on!" Red scolded the two men sleeping in their office chairs. "We're going to have to go on oxygen. The air is almost breathed up in here."
The two men jumped up jolted by the concussion with lights flickering on and off and the emergency tone of Red's voice. Eight year old Cindy Lou was still sleeping on her father's desk. The little girl had no idea of the danger, so her sleep was undisturbed.
The men climbed into radiation proof suits. When they were completely immersed in the hot suits with oxygen tanks strapped to their backs, they climbed up a ladder to the manhole cover leading to the outside world. It was a tough climb without the bulky suits hindering them, but with them on they were barely able to do it. The manhole cover was easy enough to open to Red's surprise. What his eyes saw wasn't pretty. Black smoke mingling with gray mists dancing in swirls together like two demons celebrating destruction.
He pulled himself up and out into the nuclear fog. The other two men followed slow as molasses in winter. Red's patience was tested. He yelled at Ben. "We've only got three hours of oxygen Buddy! Do you think you could climb out some time today!?"
Ben was grunting hard as he wrestled out of the narrow manhole cover trying to make sure he did not tear his radiation protection suit. Hank followed hard after him with Red growling invectives. It probably didn't occur to him that human life could be near them listening attentively.
"It came from over there!" one of the escaped criminals from Reno's prison whispered to sleazy inmates still wearing uniforms identifying them as criminals in the exodus from Reno of citizens fleeing GROUND ZERO. They like a pack of snarling dogs panted after another sound. A hint of humans to rob and kill. They listened silently.
Red yelled again and they were on him cutting, hammering, tackling three survivalists with much to learn about stealth. All three were down. Ben and Hank were piled under inmates with knives slashing them, but burly Red Scarborough was not accustomed to losing fights. He threw off one attacking him with an iron pipe and two more stomped him. He grabbed their legs and his were grabbed. He kicked them in their teeth using the same body motion to twist two other attackers down, tweaking the leg of one of them who screamed as the bull of a desert rancher scrambled to his feet. The gutter rats were terrified as they looked over their shoulders at his eye on them glaring excitedly with plenty of reason to kill. He kicked several of the attackers off of his dying friends but it was too late.
Several sleaze went down into the hole of the manhole cover into the underground bunker where the little girl awakened to their evil presence. The manhole cover closed in a clang. Darkness came quick. The little girl hid where she could not be found. The sleaze searched for her, casting out forty-eight oxygen tanks from one closet to find the little sex object of their fantasies, but she was inside closed air vents watching them. She prayed for the Lord to help her.
Red chased three of the attackers into the nuclear fog thinking to rid the earth of them and make it safer for him to try to get back into the underground, but before he knew it they were out of sight and he was lost in the smoke and rubble. This was the moment of reckoning he feared. He had to contact Network headquarters now. He slipped on a dead fish a hundred miles from the Truckee River and realized Reno had been nuked. There were no fish this far from town. Nothing but scorching desert.
Mike Maack received Red Scarborough's SOS just as he was making ready to sum up the situation to the men laboring in the spiritual war room with two other undergrounds destroyed and over six hundred Rems of radiation in the air making it too dangerous for Skyhorse to fly.
He handed a printout to Joed who immediately handed it back saying, "Let Doctor Weinstein see Red's predicament."
Maack to the printout to Weinstein who suggested sending in a robot Skyhorses. "Red would have to find his way back to the manhole cover. Those are the only trustworthy coordinates we have to work with in this electronic blizzard."
"He's lost in a nuclear fog with three hours of oxygen left and two of his men were just knifed to death."
"See if you can contact him back and tell him to turn the oxygen off intermittently until he breathes up all the air, then turn it back on. He can make three hours of oxygen last four or five hours." The scientist explained. "Tell him he has to go back to the manhole cover if he wants a Skyhorse sent on automatic pilot."
"What are the chances of success?" Mike asked reverently. It took a superstar to recognize a superstar. Mike Maack listened attentively to the THE DESIGNER SCIENTIST.
"Too many untested factors, odds are in favor of failure if we don't rise to the occasion," Doctor Weinstein replied. "We are in The Tribulation now. Any Skyhorse lost is a bucket full of replacement parts for our fleet. We won't be able to buy parts over the counter anymore. You might want to take that into consideration if you fellows decide to send it."
Mike Maack was back in a minute. "Joed said there's only one second Seal. Send the million-dollar jet into GROUND ZERO. Let's see what it can do." The faith of the Seer was reaching for impossibilities.
The totally emotionless Weinstein was moved by the challenge.
Tony Cruz had a Skyhorse ready in the underground hangar. Seven men rolled it on a lift-jack dolly. Another of Weinstein's mechanical designs working to make Underground Network Headquarters effective continually. Mike Maack ran out to Skyhorse on the launch pad where he and Weinstein worked together to program the automatic pilot to fly Skyhorse into electrofried air. "Use the electronic shield and they'll bio-magnetize with the atmosphere," the venerable scientist warned.
"We may need the electronic shield for a few moments, Sir, with a Skyhorse going into Reno on automatic pilot and back. I am programming MAXIMUM POWER POSSIBILITIES to do every little thing we command it to do. I'm giving the computer ears."
"You are much appreciated," Weinstein replied as he looked over the back of the pilot's chair of the supernaturalized jet they designed together, watching Mike Maack work the Control Center built into every Skyhorse.
He turned around to the dashboard console typing a reminder to the computer genius, "MAXIMUM POWER POSSIBILITIES allows the jet to crash itself to preserve the design from our many enemies."
"Yes Sir," Maack replied casually as his fingers made music programming the system. He looked up at Doctor Weinstein and talked while typing commands. "We want Skyhorse to self destruct if its in danger of being captured, but we're not sure a computer should be trusted with a fifty million dollar question."
When Doctor Weinstein heard the "we" in Mike Maack's conversations, he knew Joed stood behind his lieutenant in the Network on that point.
The robot Doctor Weinstein designed came out of the hangar with his battery fully charged when the two hi tech's were done programming Skyhorse for its flight into the unknown dangers of GROUND ZERO. It climbed in and sat down in the pilot's seat strapping itself in tight. "Ready to go when you give the word," his computer voice sounded off over the inter-com to the men in the spiritual war room.
"Countdown two minutes," Sebastian's voice answered. Doctor Weinstein and Mike Maack heard the Fleet Commander, walking quickly into the war room where they took their places.
Skyhorse exploded out of Granite Peak into radioactive atmospheric conditions. The Computer on Skyhorse over Reno perceived holes in the nuclear fog. The jet dove into the hole nearest its landing coordinates to minimize how much radiation infested air she was breathing at 180,000 liters of air per minute. The filters were terribly clogged as Skyhorse landed with a bump blindly with spider legs extended as feelers to find the unseeable ground. Skyhorse had a lot of other tricks up its carbon-fiber sleeve. A liquid foam insulation oozed from top to the bottom settling over Skyhorse to protect the jet from radiation in the nuclear fog while the robot busied himself changing out filters in the breathing apparatus before disembarking to search for Red Scarborough. The robot was on his own. Headquarters could not receive his communications from GROUND ZERO.
The Seer decided to remove the wicked prisoner from among the living, but it took a while to convince Doctor Goldman to do his duty. "We cannot afford the space or the resources to feed the prisoner for seven years," Joed explained calmly. "And what will we do if he escapes to tell our enemies of our location?"
"But I thought every man ought to have a chance at redemption," Doctor Goldman complained.
"This may be difficult for you to perceive Doctor, but the man has been wicked so many years he has become reprobate."
"What does that mean?" the doctor inquired with a puzzled look.
"He is like the wicked homosexual pictured by Saint Paul who said they did not retain God in their knowledge who gave them over to a reprobate mind."
"I still don't know what that means," Goldman complained as Joed pulled a small Bible from its sheath on his belt and handed the text in Romans 1:28/32 to him which concluded: "that they which commit such things are worthy of death."
Goldman was Jewish and did not like it at all that Joed was more skillful in God's Word than he who was a descendent of the greatest holy men who ever walked the earth. "But this text pertains to homosexuals. We are talking about a murderer."
Joed proceeded to Doctor Goldman's computer saying, "It is good to know you perceive he is a murderer. May I use your computer for a few moments to show you something?"
The doctor nodded his head and Joed proceeded to bring up Security replays from the prisoner's cell. He did an audible word search for a conversation the prisoner had with Jeremiah Jones after Doctor Goldman left them alone, and to the doctor's surprise the prisoner openly admitted to being a Sodomite to the Security Chief and was busy making excuses for it, saying he was molested in his childhood. "Now, are you satisfied he is a homosexual?" Joed asked kindly.
"Yes, but I have always obeyed the Ten Commandments. Who am I to kill when the LORD says not to?" the doctor argued.
"The intent of the Ten Commandments is: Thou shall not murder. We are going to execute the prisoner Doctor Goldman just like any government should do, otherwise the people will have no restraint when we are all in danger. They have to know obedience is essential to their own survival and their neighbors."
"I still don't feel right about it," Goldman asserted. He didn't like to be led by a Gentile, but no Jew had stepped forward with the Light to lead God's people underground.
"If it's a question of conscience, someone else can do it." Joed replied grimly. The government of the USA is already mortally wounded or we could leave him to their discretion. The Network has to have laws and justice like any other government in the world to survive. We have the choice to manage our environment or be managed by it."
"What do you need me to do?" Doctor Goldman asked.
Get together saline, replace it with lethal agents like the sedative sodium pentothal, then administer potassium chloride to paralyze the prisoner and finally inject pancuronium bromide to stop his heart just like California did when they executed killers."
"Alright," the doctor replied grimly. "It's probably less painful than being shot or hung."
"Exactly," Joed answered before leaving the room. "We'll wait for you in the prisoner's cell."
A few minutes later the prisoner is informed swift justice is about to take place after Jeremiah Jones and a Security team strapped the prisoner down in his bunk where he was convalescing.
"You go to hell," he screamed with all his might, trying to break free from the constraints.
Joed walked in about the time Jeremiah Jones was answered, "We were hoping you would not go there. Did you know there were two thieves on crosses when Christ was crucified with them, and one repented and went to paradise that day?"
"What do I care about your fairytales!?" the prisoners groaned as he continued to wrestle with the constraints. "Let me out of here. You don't have the right to take my life. I haven't even had a trial. Where is my lawyer?"
Joed stood over him now saying, "We have your confession on surveillance tapes. What can you say in your defense?"
"I don't have to answer to you!" the prisoner cried out in a threatening voice. "If I get my hands on you, I'll kill you all!"
"Exactly. That's why you have to be removed from among the living. As long as you are alive, no-one is safe." Joed told him. "You have just a few minutes to repent of your wickedness before a lethal injection is administered."
sample
