Even the hospital suite Hana had all to herself the past month and a half was larger than the old shack they called home.
How quickly everything had changed for them…
Theirs was a true “rags to riches” story. But what had they done to earn it? Give birth to a child? It didn’t seem fair, especially since Yogesh and Hana wanted children more than anything else, even before Salvador Romanero announced the contest.
It’s like they won the lottery without ever purchasing a ticket...
In her heart of hearts, Hana felt unworthy of such notoriety. Billions of women gave birth before the disappearances without having fame and fortune thrust upon them, or scores of world-famous celebrities and dignitaries calling at all hours just to congratulate her.
It was totally insane. But what made her feel most undeserving of the many material blessings, was her belief that she was already pregnant before the contest was announced. She was certain of it, in fact.
If true, it meant Salvador Romanero’s prediction wasn’t authentic, which meant it wasn’t legitimate; it was ill-conceived at best.
Hana wasn’t the only new mother having this thought. But as contest winners, this secret would remain buried deep within their hearts. Otherwise, not only would they be forced to forfeit everything by way of disqualification—including the monetary card the first 100 women would receive on the Day of New Beginnings holiday—such an admission would totally humiliate the Miracle Maker.
This, in turn, would very quickly cause their adoring public to turn against them. Not good!
In Hana Patel’s case, especially, there was just too much at stake. On top of the million dollars soon-to-be awarded to her, she had already received five million in cash, gifts and gift cards from a frenzied public, and they still hadn’t put a dent in the pile of envelopes stored in the POD.
Throw into the mix the beautiful house, which was given to them as a gift from wealthy Chennai socialites, the two new cars and the countless other items, and it was in her best interest to keep her mouth shut or potentially lose everything.
Though it was only the first day in the new house, Hana had already warmed up nicely to her new lifestyle. Spending six weeks in a hospital suite with her own personal servants catering to her every whim, helped set the stage. I could get used to this!
But not Yogesh. While his wife felt quite special, he felt anything but that. After spending the first few nights in her hospital suite sleeping on a reclining chair, he finally exchanged it for a comfortable king size bed at the new residence.
It wasn’t the uncomfortable chair that ultimately drove him from the hospital each night; the first-time father finally grew agitated of being ignored by everyone. As hospital workers catered to Hana’s every whim, they often made him feel like a nuisance, like he was always in the way.
While his wife had achieved celebrity status, he was still treated like a peasant fisherman. He even needed to ask permission to hold his own daughter in his arms. It was bizarre, to say the least. It was difficult looking any of them in the eye without anger rising to the surface.
It’s not that Yogesh wanted special treatment for himself. He didn’t. But a little respect from doctors and nurses would have been appreciated. After all, he was half the reason why baby Salvador was born. But you’d never know it by the way he was treated, mistreated rather.
The media treated him even worse; they blinked him away like he wasn’t even there. It seemed all they cared about was Hana and the baby. It’s like they were purposely trying to divide the family, making the new father feel like he was a sperm donor at best, even married.
Hence, the growing frustration on his part.
Yogesh wasn’t the only new father on the planet who felt this way. As their female counterparts basked in the celebrity spotlight, most new fathers felt unimportant. Now that the babies were born, it’s like their presence was no longer necessary. In short, they, too, felt disrespected.
The final slap in the face came when Yogesh informed the hospital staff that he needed a ride home. He was told the limousine that had transported them to the hospital, before Hana was born, would once again be made available when his wife was discharged.
If he had a driver’s license, he would have driven one of the two new vehicles they’d received as gifts from generous individuals back and forth to the hospital. But since he didn’t, he was forced to take Uber home.
Once they were settled, he would get his driver’s license…
After everyone left, the Patels watched two men unloading the moving pod onto one of their two parking spaces, where it would remain under lock and key—protected around the clock by armed guards—until they finally sorted through it all, whenever that would be.
Hana nursed baby Salvadora to sleep. Then the couple went outside and asked one of the armed guards to open the pod for them.
Hana took one glance at the many stacks of unopened cards and gasped. “One stack at a time,” she told herself.
Yogesh nodded agreement.
13
COEUR D’ALENE IDAHO – TWO DAYS LATER
IT TOOK TWO DAYS for the five ETSM leaders to arrive at the subterranean location, in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Whereas Jefferson Danforth was privately flown out west, his friends drove the 2,350 miles from Tennessee without the use of mobile devises or GPS.
They met Agent Daniel Sullivan in a parking lot in Spokane, Washington, then followed his vehicle 50 miles east to the underground location situated a quarter mile from Lake Coeur d’Alene, in the national forest.
Jefferson was with Nelson Casanieves, William Messersmith and Amy Wong. Ironically, they were watching Danforth’s funeral procession on TV. It was right about at the halfway point.
Slouched in a chair, he shrugged his shoulders, “Look at them, going through the standard motions of a full Presidential funeral. They’ve managed it so well I almost believe I’m dead myself.”
Danforth chuckled without humor. “You should have seen it earlier when I, we, landed at Joint Base Andrews. Our caskets were placed in separate hearses. Only difference was mine had the Presidential seal on it. Before being transported to the Capitol Rotunda, there was the customary playing of ‘Hail to the Chief’, followed by the National Anthem, and a twenty-one-gun salute.
“Tomorrow, after lying in state for twenty-four hours, there will be a state funeral for me and Melissa. From there, I’m supposed to be flown to Wisconsin to lie in repose for another twenty-four hours before being flown back to Washington for a memorial service at the national cathedral.
“Since I’m not a member at any church in my home state, it was announced that my children have agreed to skip that part. Instead, I’ll be laid to rest alongside my wife tomorrow morning.”
Finished bringing his friends up to speed, Jefferson said, “Hope my body double’s enjoying it!” He shook his head in disgust. “Yeah, like he deserves a flag-draped coffin, or flags lowered to half-staff, or gunfire salutes at all military installations across the country…”
The TV camera zoomed in on his three grieving children circling the casket with their spouses and his mother-in-law, Candice Stephenson. All were in deep mourning.
The network anchor said, “Today marks the first time in American history that a President and First Lady were buried together.”
“If you say so,” Jefferson scoffed, at the man with whom he had a healthy working relationship before the Rapture. “What you really mean is it’s the first time an American President got to witness his own funeral!” Stretching his hand toward the television, he whispered to his children, “Daddy’s still here; only Mommy’s gone.”
Amy Wong was seated across from her former boss. She lowered her head and started weeping for him. To hear him refer himself to his grown children as “Daddy” was both odd and deeply touching at the same time. It’s as if his mind had reverted back to when they were still young, when life was so much simpler and easier.
Jefferson was the next to s
tart weeping, “How crazy that my own family can’t even know I’m alive…”
Travis Hartings said, “I can only imagine how you feel, Sir. Hopefully in time, they’ll know. We all know what must happen first. Until then, all we can do is keep praying for them.”
Weeping was replaced with loud, guttural sobs. “How could I send Melissa to Colorado without me?”
Clayton Holmes embraced his friend. “It’s not your fault, Sir…”
“Not my fault?” he lamented. “Ha! How can you say that when I’m the one who made the decision in the first place?”
“The decision may have been yours, my dear brother, but not the final outcome…”
“Why couldn’t I have been with her when the plane went down? I feel like I’ve defiled her grave by having an imposter laid to rest next to her!” Jefferson grew silent. He often wondered now that he was a Christ follower, would Melissa ever turn against him at some point and become his enemy? It was something he no longer needed to ponder…
“This just in…As it turns out, what was originally diagnosed as a bad case of the flu for President Everett Ashford ended up being infinitely worse than that. It’s being reported that the President died today of a massive stroke,” said the TV commentator, solemnly.
Danforth gasped. The air was sucked out of the underground chamber. They all knew Everett Ashford didn’t die. He was murdered.
Without the slightest trace of shock on his face, the reporter went on, “Initially, it was reported the President fell ill shortly after taking the oath last week. But after he became unresponsive, his neurosurgeon examined him and quickly determined the President had suffered a stroke. He succumbed to his injury just a few moments ago…”
“President Ashford’s passing represents the shortest tenure of any American President in our nation’s history. Since he didn’t nominate a new vice president for Congressional approval before his death, Speaker of the House, Lois Cipriano, will assume the position and will be sworn in as the next President...”
“While America has not been without a vice president since the days of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, eighteen American Presidents have served all or parts of their terms without a VP. I’ve just been told in my earpiece that President Ashford’s funeral will be held early next week.”
Calloway shook his head in disgust, “Even the media’s in on it! How else would he know that so quickly?”
Agent Sullivan said, “Now we know why Galiano saw Cipriano in the Oval Office the day Ashford took the oath. When he didn’t nominate a new VP, knowing he was dead or incapacitated, she was secretly acting in full executive authority, to ensure the continuity of government.”
The camera settled on Cipriano, as she was surrounded by a dozen secret service men and women and taken to the White House. At seven and a half months pregnant, she walked with a wobble. They pulled it off so flawlessly that it looked completely staged, rehearsed, which it was…
Dressed in black, Cipriano appeared to be in mourning. But everyone knew it was only for show. She was eager to take the oath and begin undoing the many backwards things Danforth did while in office, to finally bring the United States into alignment with the rest of the world, which she hoped to do before giving birth in December.
Jefferson Danforth lowered his head. It was the irony of all ironies mourning the death of the man who took his place as Commander in Chief, as his own funeral was being shown on TV. He rejoiced knowing Everett was in Glory now, but he couldn’t for the life in him understand why he delayed choosing a new V.P. before doing anything else…
Danforth sighed, “There goes our lifeline! I thought we’d have until January, when a new President would be sworn in. Just hope all files were deleted. If not, we’re in serious trouble. And what if he accidentally left his laptop open. He took the oath at the White House. If so, they’ve had three days to sort and scour through everything…”
The room grew silent as everyone considered his words…
The journalist, who was more of an activist, said, “Though we mourn President Danforth’s and Ashford’s deaths, on a bright note, with a more globally minded interim President in charge, as many as half of our beloved citizens who’d recently left the U.S. for greener pastures during the Danforth administration have agreed to come back to the States, once power has been restored.”
Dr. Kim winced, “How on earth would they know that so soon?”
“Even many new moms who’d planned on relocating elsewhere have since changed their minds and will remain in the U.S. On a personal note, my husband and I were planning to relocate to Italy or the Middle East. Looks like that won’t be necessary,” he said. We never wanted to leave California anyway.” His words dripped with anticipation.
Travis Hartings sighed, “All this in a matter of minutes? It’s insane! No doubt they’ve been planning this since Ashford took the oath.”
The man went on, “Hopefully this will help energize the barely-on-life-support housing industry. Not to sound insensitive at a time like this but, in a way, the many vacant houses that recently burned to the ground after the explosions may have been a good thing after all.
“Since those repatriating will occupy many of the houses that are still standing, it will gradually help shrink the supply versus demand abyss and stabilize the sagging market.”
“Housing industry? Really?” Danforth snapped. Pointing to the TV screen, he said, “First they announce Ashford’s death at my funeral and whisk Cipriano away by the Secret Service! Now, instead of mourning my death or, at the very least, respecting the office of the President, they’d rather discuss the dismal housing industry like it was all my fault?
“Then to further tarnish my legacy by boasting that thirty-five million Americans who left the country on my watch will soon repatriate! After so many years serving my country both civilly and militarily, I’ve been reduced to this?! What a joke I’ve become, a laughingstock, really! It’s like my life never mattered to them...”
Charles Calloway thought back to when he first met President Danforth at Camp David. The man seated across from him now was a shadow of who he was back then. He looked worse now than he did the other day at the cabin in Oak Ridge. “You matter to us, Sir, and to God.”
Jefferson ignored his words as if they were never spoken, “Did I tell you many Americans were celebrating in the streets earlier over my passing? If they knew I was still alive and could see me shriveled up like this, frightened for my life, they would rejoice even more.”
The pain in his eyes was palpable. “I feel like a grain of sand in an endless universe. No, even smaller than that,” he lamented. “At least a grain of sand has some significance. I have none!”
Clayton Holmes wanted to cry for him. “All of this is beyond your control, Mister President…” Holmes froze, then winced, when Agent Sullivan glared at him angrily.
“Mister President?! Surely, you’ve mistaken me for someone else, Clayton! Haven’t you noticed I’m already two Presidents removed?!”
“You’re still our President, Sir.”
Danforth felt a cool chill race through his body. He couldn’t fathom how this day had arrived. But it also confirmed Danforth’s fear: He was now convinced those in power knew he was still alive.
His suspicion was further confirmed earlier when agent Galiano informed agent Sullivan that Harry Marshall’s family had all been killed. Marshall’s wife knew her husband was stunt-doubling for President Danforth the week Air Force One went down.
She hadn’t heard from her husband since. As the days passed, her family became increasingly suspicious. Their inquiries soon turned into full-blown threats against their government. They demanded answers!
The solution? All were killed. Problem solved. They just happened to be collateral damage. It was a business decision. No hard feelings.
In a world that kept sinking further and further into moral and spiritual decay, this was one of the most bizarre days in American history.
What
began as a Presidential funeral, quickly changed after it was announced the man who took his place had died. Now, Lois Cipriano—staunch ally of Salvador Romanero—was about to be sworn in as America’s new Commander-in-Chief.
This had all the makings of a coup d’etat. It was just a matter of time before past hidden secrets were uncovered...
Danforth adjusted his weight in the chair, “No doubt about it, they know I’m alive.”
14
THREE WEEKS LATER
WITH SOME OF THE large equipment and construction workers shipped off to another property, the population at safehouse number one was slowly dwindling.
As one of only three physicians left on the premises for now, Dr. Meera Singh was busy day and night seeing patients. Thankfully, most post construction injuries suffered were minor bumps, bruises, sprains, stitches and the like. Even so, Meera took comfort knowing once the properties were reconstructed, doctors and nurses would be spread evenly so that all properties would have access to them.
For now, she was just grateful for the two other doctors.
Of the 76 pregnant women invited to live in Chadds Ford, the youngest was only 12. Leticia Gonzalez was one of the few to be invited to Chadds Ford with her parents, Julio and Marta.
This was Meera Singh’s third time examining the young girl. Before coming to Chadds Ford, Leticia had been examined a handful of times by medical doctors representing the Global Community.
After confirming that everything still looked good, and that her son was just weeks from being born, Dr. Singh examined her mother. It didn’t take long to confirm Marta’s suspicion that she, too, was pregnant, making her expectant mother number 77 at safe house number one.
At ten weeks, it was too soon to know the baby’s gender. Having lost a child inside her womb during the Rapture, and a three-year-old son named J.J.—short for Julio junior—Marta didn’t quite know how to feel.
The Sealing Page 9
