The Countdown Begins

by Patrick Higgins

  Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings remained calm. Charles Calloway, Donald Johnson and Manuel Jiminez, on the other hand, couldn’t contain their excitement.

  Meeting the President of the United States at an underground shelter was one thing. Being invited to his personal retreat was beyond description.

  “I can’t believe I’m at Camp David!” Calloway mumbled to himself.

  Even among the impending doom, President Danforth chuckled to himself. He was reminded of his first visit to the White House at the ripe young age of twelve. He very much looked the way Charles did now. “This is my first time back since last November’s tragedy.”

  “That’s right! I remember you were here when it happened...” Calloway said.

  “Was sitting over there by the fireplace,” the President said somberly, pointing over in that direction, shaking his head at the painful memory, “watching the Ohio State-Michigan football game. Seems like so long ago...”

  Revisiting the place where so many loved ones breathed their last breath in human form filled the President with great dread and sadness. Horrific thoughts fought hard to flood his mind. He fought even harder to push them away.

  Prior to the Rapture, Jefferson Danforth considered Camp David as perhaps the greatest benefit to being President. This place would never again be considered a peaceful retreat. It was hallowed ground now.

  This was the first time the First Lady didn’t accompany him. She told her husband on the day of the Rapture that she would never step foot inside Camp David again.

  Aside from White House Head Chef Amy Wong, who was flown to Camp David from Washington, no one else was privy to this “unofficial” covert gathering at Camp David.

  Not even Press Secretary Jordan Kendall knew his whereabouts. She knew her boss was meeting covertly with anti-globalists who loved America and detested Salvador Romanero as much as he did. She just didn’t know who they were or where the meeting was taking place.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” was all Calloway could think to say.

  “Where were you at the time, Charles?”

  “In a taxicab in New York City, with a business associate of mine who suddenly vanished into thin air.”

  Thanks to the secret service, President Danforth already knew so much of Calloway’s past. Braxton Rice and his team were doing a good job of spying and vetting for the ETSM, but they didn’t have the kind of access the United States Secret Service had at their disposal.

  Because of them—much like he did with Donald Johnson and Manuel Jiminez—the President knew the family members Charles Calloway had lost last November, and pretty much everything he did leading up to the Rapture.

  What he didn’t know from Calloway’s extensive background check was his exact whereabouts at 12:01 that afternoon, when life was forever changed for everyone on Planet Earth. He knew Charles was in New York City for a business convention, but nothing more.

  “Must have been quite a traumatic experience for you.”

  “You can say that again, Sir.”

  “Who could have ever predicted that day?” asked the President.

  Charles looked down at his feet. “My father. He didn’t know the exact hour or day, but he knew this moment was fast approaching. Just wish I’d listened to him.”

  “I’m sure he’d be relieved knowing you’re a believer now.”

  Tears welled up in Calloway’s eyes. “I was blessed with such amazing parents.”

  President Danforth thought about his own parents. From a worldly standpoint, he couldn’t have asked for anyone better. But now that his spiritual eyes had been opened, he seriously doubted if they ever knew Jesus intimately.

  He was saddened to think of the eternal consequences his deceased parents were now suffering, based solely on the choices and decisions they’d made while still alive in the flesh.

  Jefferson Danforth kept these agonizing thoughts to himself. Placing his right hand on Calloway’s shoulder, he squeezed gently, “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled beyond measure to see you again.”

  “Thanks, Mister President, I needed to hear that.” Calloway smiled. Then it dawned on him: “Are you a Christ follower?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Guess you could say this is my coming out party. Now that I know the Truth and have been set free by it, I covet the prayers of God’s true saints.”

  Before Calloway could reply, President Danforth glanced over at Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings. The two men approached him. Of his own free will, President Jefferson Danforth knelt before everyone. Looking up into Holmes’ sparkling eyes, the President reached for his humongous hands, which all but swallowed up his own hands.

  Clayton Holmes said, “Gather around the President, y’all, and lay hands on him.”

  Once everyone had inched in as close as they could get and laid their hands upon him, Holmes began, “Lord Father God, our hearts are filled with joy knowing our President is among those of Your choosing. We lift up our brother knowing dark clouds loom on the horizon.

  “Soon he’ll be forced to make decisions no other American President has ever had to seriously contemplate, let alone execute. Please strengthen him daily, Lord, and be his Rock and Comforter. Grant him the wisdom only You can provide. In fact, grant each of us the wisdom to do what is just and right in Your sight.

  “On a personal note, I feel so humbled to participate in perhaps the most significant event to ever transpire at Camp David. It would be difficult imagining anything topping this. I can’t help but wonder if genuine Christian fellowship has ever taken place here prior to now.

  “Thanks again for the provisions provided to us by President Danforth, and for the privilege of allowing me to represent Your Kingdom here on Earth. May You always be enthroned on the praises of Your People! I ask these things in Jesus’ matchless, mighty name, Amen.”

  “Amen!” was the reply in unison.

  Holmes paused to wipe his eyes. “Anything you’d like to add, Mister President?”

  The President glanced skyward, “Thank You, Lord, for sending these fine men to help me better understand Your Word, and for letting me see just how lost and sinful I really was. Jesus, I know my sins are what caused You to die so brutally on that cross...”

  The President took a deep breath then started weeping, “How can I possibly fathom that You would curse Your only begotten Son for my sake, Father, by treating Him on the cross as if He lived my sinful life? You punished Him for the countless sins I’ve committed. How could I possibly repay You for that? Words fail me...”

  The President sniffled, “All I can do is thank You again for looking beyond my sin and declaring me righteous and worthy to spend eternity with You...”

  Clayton Holmes was deeply touched by the President’s repentant words. The hair on the back of his neck stood at full attention, rendering the giant of a man momentarily speechless. He paused to collect himself.

  With tears in his eyes, he tightened his grip on the President’s hands, and cleared his throat, “Wow! Thank you, Father! What love indeed! How could we not bow down in worship of You? We love You, and exalt you, Lord Jesus!”

  For White House Chef Amy Wong, to see her boss, a man she deeply admired and respected, on his knees praying as common citizens towered high above him, was the most beautiful experience of her life. She felt highly favored to be able to witness this intimately beautiful moment.

  The Holy Spirit flooded each heart and soul. Had it happened just a few months ago, Wong might have rejected it as sheer religiosity coming from the man who just happened to be her boss.

  But that was then...

  Chef Wong was first exposed to the Gospel by her late friend and former White House Chief Baker, Edna Brown. Edna was always talking about the love of Jesus, but Wong always ignored her.

  Upon hearing that Brown was among the disappearances at Camp David, Wong mourned bitterly for her friend. But after hearing it was Christian in nature, she felt drawn to the Book Edna Brown was always quoting, the sa
me Book she always ignored.

  Now that Wong was a believer, she was eager to see Edna Brown again someday. She couldn’t wait to tell her friend that after being saved, she started having weekly Bible readings at the White House.

  On Clayton Holmes’ and Travis Hartings’ first visit to the White House, Wong pulled the two ETSM leaders aside before they left that night and asked if they would be willing to share the Gospel with the three men who joined her each week to read the Word of God: secret service agents Daniel Sullivan, Guillermo Sanchez and Anthony Galiano.

  Holmes explained God’s plan of salvation to them in the clearest possible way. All three men, feeling utterly filthy and helpless, saw Jesus for who He really was; the only One who could rescue their souls from eternal damnation. They repented of their many sins that night and trusted in Jesus as Lord and Savior.

  Glancing around the room, Chef Wong finally understood why her boss had instructed her to leave her entire staff back at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. They weren’t Christ followers. Her only regret was that the First Lady wasn’t with them. Wong would never stop praying for her.

  For now, she rejoiced knowing that her boss, the President of the United States, was a new Christ follower. To have the distinct privilege of laying hands on her boss and praying with him in such an intimate way was too amazing to put into words.

  Moved by the power of the Holy Spirit, the White House head chef dropped to her knees, raised her hands skyward, and started singing with a voice that was glad…

  “I exalt thee,

  I exalt thee,

  I exalt thee, Oh Lord...”

  At first, President Danforth shot her a sideways look. Seeing the shy-by-nature Asian woman on her knees, with her hands lifted high above her head, praising her Maker was so out of character for her. The unbridled joy in her voice and on her face brought fresh tears to his eyes.

  The second time through, Clayton Holmes dropped to his knees, raised his hands toward the ceiling, and joined her...

  “I exalt thee,

  I exalt thee,

  I exalt thee, Oh Lord...”

  Everyone was on their knees the third time through. Travis Hartings changed the pronoun from ‘I’ to ‘we’ and lent his voice to the singing.

  Then Donald Johnson joined in.

  Charles Calloway slowly swayed side to side on his knees, with his head down, eyes closed and a smile on his face. He was drinking it all in.

  Finally, he shouted, “Hallelujah!” and joined in the singing.

  After a while, everyone stood and formed a circle and joined hands...

  “We exalt thee,

  We exalt thee,

  We exalt thee, Oh Lord...”

  The next time through, Agent Sullivan joined in. President Danforth remained silent and listened as the beautiful melody washed over him.

  When they were finished, President Danforth couldn’t remember feeling any better. “So, this is what true Christian fellowship feels like? Could you imagine what would happen if the press got wind of this?”

  Travis Hartings marveled at the expression on the President’s face. It looked as if God had momentarily lifted the oppressive weight of an American Presidency off his shoulders.

  “In all my years in public service,” President Danforth said, “I’ve never felt a sense of genuine camaraderie like I do right now. It can only be God at work in us.”

  White House Head Chef Amy Wong wiped tears from her eyes and excused herself, so she could get busy in the kitchen. She still had a job to do. The President requested Mexican food before leaving the White House and Wong delivered.

  When the last plate was brought from the kitchen everyone sat down to eat, including Chef Wong. This was a day of firsts for her.

  For starters, it was her first time cooking a meal for an American President—President Danforth being her third—without the full assistance of her staff.

  It was also her first time being asked to dine with those for whom she’d just cooked. It was almost too much to absorb at once.

  Travis Hartings blessed the food, and everyone dug in. It was as delicious as it looked.

  President Danforth took a bite of his enchilada. Swallowing, he said, “By choosing to align myself with your two groups, even if secretly, I’m placing myself directly in harm’s way.

  “If word ever got out that I’m supplying everything from food to shelter to military-strength weaponry to known Salvador Romanero dissidents, it could mean grave danger for me.”

  “We know, Sir, and we appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”

  “It goes both ways, gentlemen. With so many Americans wanting my head on a plate, I feel comforted in your presence. Besides, if anyone deserves my support, it’s you. But we mustn’t be naive. With a shadow government in place, word will eventually get out.”

  The President sighed, “Until that day comes, no one aside from those in your organization can know I’m a Christian.”

  “We understand, Mister President.”

  “Wish I could say the same for most members of the American Freedom Keepers. Don’t get me wrong: they’re extremely valuable to us in that they’re willing to fight Romanero to the death. But, as you all know, they’re wrong in thinking they can somehow remove him from power, or that America will become the superpower it once was.

  “With dark powerful forces controlling Romanero, the next seven years are his for the taking. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. The fact that most AFK members are ignorant to this exposes their lack of spiritual depth regarding the Word of God.”

  Travis Hartings cleared his throat, “This is why we cannot form a total joint venture with them. Our differences are spiritual in nature.”

  President Danforth straightened up in his seat, “I’m sure some in that group are believers. But until we’re one-hundred percent certain where they stand in Christ Jesus, ally or not, they need to be kept at arm’s length. Under no condition can we reveal any of your locations to them.”

  Clayton Holmes weighed in, “Agreed. In the end, patriot or not, when it comes to one’s spiritual affiliation, everyone eventually needs to choose a side. AFK members who reject Jesus will ultimately accept the Mark of the Beast. Otherwise they won’t be able to buy, sell or eat. Once that happens, they’ll succumb to Satan’s deceptive spirit and will ultimately become our staunch enemies.”

  President Danforth gulped hard. Will Melissa one day become my staunch enemy? It was enough to choke on. “Can we pray for the First Lady?”

  “Yes, Mister President...”

  Once they had finished praying, the meeting at Camp David came to a close...

  18

  TAMIKA MOSELEY LOWERED THE bandanna covering her face. She gulped hard, prayed for God’s protection and went inside the library in Patterson, New Jersey for the second straight day.

  Once a computer became available, Tamika reactivated her Twitter account. She had three new followers, whatever that meant.

  Whoever they were, she wasn’t interested in getting to know them. All that mattered was contacting Brian Mulrooney. Seeing no messages from him shredded her heart a little more. Out of desperation, she sent him another message: Hi Brian. This is your favorite taxi driver. Did you get my last message? I’m in serious trouble and really need your help!

  If Brian didn’t reply this time, Tamika would perform another online search for Charles Calloway. Her last search had proved fruitless.

  Brian Mulrooney’s phone was turned off as he went through airport security at Ronald Reagan National Airport. Upon turning it on, he was informed he had a new Twitter message from NYCTaxiDriver111. He raced to his gate and signed into his Twitter account. His heart raced with anticipation. Is this who I think it is? If so, what’s wrong?

  Tamika’s hands started flailing over the keyboard when she received a reply from Brian. She replied: Yes, it’s me. Can’t explain online. Please come to New York as soon as possible. I’ll pick you up at the airport. I’m begging you! />
  Brian replied: What happened to your phone? I’ve tried calling you a million times!

  Tamika replied: I’ll explain later. For now, please come!

  Sensing her great despair, and with a strong inner-prompting, Mulrooney turned on his laptop and booked a flight to New York as they chatted online. Just booked a flight. Be there in 2 days...

  Relief flooded her soul: Thanks so much, Brian!

  No problem. Here’s my flight information. Gotta jet. Don’t wanna miss my plane back to Michigan! Stay safe there. See you soon...

  Tamika jotted down Brian’s flight information on a piece of paper. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would still come to New York had he known she was a fugitive on the run. Part of her was surprised he didn’t know by now. It seemed everyone else knew.

  Before signing off the computer, Tamika Moseley deleted her Twitter account.

  Then it was off to share the good news with Cocoa...

  BRIAN MULROONEY FOUND HIS seat on the plane and sent a text message to Charles Calloway: Just chatted with Tamika. She wouldn’t tell me what kind of trouble she’s in. She wants to tell me in person. I’m going to New York in 2 days to meet her. Talk about answered prayer!

  Calloway replied: Amen! Thanks for the update. Keep me informed...

  Mulrooney replied: You know I will.

  Brian then sent a text message to Tom Dunleavey informing that Pastor Simonton would drive him home from the airport, and that he would explain everything later.

  After that Brian called Jacquelyn. Just hearing her voice again soothed his nerves like no one else could. They didn’t discuss anything important, including the news regarding Tamika—that would come later. Brian was just happy to speak to her again. They remained on the phone until he was ordered to power down his phone in preparation for takeoff.