Charles Calloway drove him there after he confessed to having dreams for three straight nights. The original plan was that Deacon Stone would stay at the cabin until he was healthy enough to leave. Then he would join Calloway at one of the seven properties down south once they were up and running.
Then Deacon Stone met Miss Evelyn and the two seniors fell in love. They were already making plans to get married.
Mary Johnston sat quietly and listened and observed. Like everyone else, she was petrified. But for the first time in her life, though they looked like a bunch of astronauts who’d been transported from Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania to Chadds Ford, Mars, Mary felt comforted being surrounded by those she could confidently call her family. Unlike everyone else in her past life, these people would never leave her.
“Should I try contacting Rhonda Kimmel to see if she’s okay?” Brian Mulrooney said to his wife.
Jacquelyn nodded yes.
Mulrooney sent a text message to his real estate agent: Are you okay? Just heard about the explosions in Wilmington. Please let me know. Stay safe out there. God be with you.
Within a matter of minutes, Mulrooney knew she wasn’t okay. Normally, Rhonda Kimmel would reply immediately, within minutes anyway. But not this time.
Meanwhile, the news on TV kept getting worse as the minutes passed. It was now feared that people all across the United States had been exposed to the deadly toxins and were becoming violently ill as a result.
It didn’t take long before the impact zone was expanded to the entire Western Hemisphere. Whereas initial reports had suggested that perhaps as many as 10,000,000 casualties might occur from this catastrophe, it now looked like that number would be ten times higher than that…
“What do we do now?” said Manuel Jiminez.
“We pray...” Charles Calloway said. Everyone joined hands.
Once they finished praying, Sarah Mulrooney trudged up to her bedroom without saying a word to anyone.
She locked her bedroom door and laid on the bed sill in her hazmat suit. With tears in her eyes, she prayed for Dick and Chelsea, not knowing if they were dead or alive, wondering for the hundredth time if she made the right decision by leaving her husband and daughter.
More than anything, she wanted to be with them now, but knew it wasn’t possible...
46
IN WASHINGTON D.C., PRESIDENT Danforth and First Lady Melissa Danforth were out on the White House south portico balcony watching the fireworks blazing over the National Mall
After having a nice dinner together, the First Couple decided to shut out the world for one night and relax and enjoy each other’s company for a change. They even held hands.
Then multiple explosions literally shook the White House foundation beneath them. Even though they were roughly a mile away from the National Mall, they easily felt the pulse created by the explosions.
In a matter of seconds, they were surrounded by secret service agents and taken to the fallout shelter beneath the White House. Their training had taught them they had 60 seconds to get the President and First Lady to safety before they were exposed to the deadly toxins feared in the air.
Once underground, both were checked for possible radiation exposure, which thankfully neither had, then ordered to put on gas-tight suits and gas masks, to which neither objected.
The secret service needed to remove the First Family from the hot zone as quickly as possible, to prevent toxic air from being ingested into their lungs. But until the green light was given that it was safe to fly on Marine One, they would remain in the White House fallout shelter wearing Level A hazmat suits.
Hundreds of secret service agents, also in protective gear, set up perimeters around the White House looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then again, with mass carnage all around them, everything looked out of the ordinary!
Even so, they needed to make sure no one was lurking in the darkness with shoulder-mounted surface-to-air missiles locked onto the Presidential chopper, just waiting for their boss to climb on board.
First responders and military reservists, also wearing hazmat suits, trudged through the mass casualties on the ground at the National Mall looking for signs of life.
The few they saw who weren’t killed by the explosions lay on the ground trembling uncontrollably, gasping for air, the look of death stenciled onto their faces.
Others were choking and foaming at the mouth. Their bodies were covered with cuts and burn marks from the explosives and with hideous boils from the chemical agents their bodies had just been exposed to.
A half-hour passed before secret service agent Daniel Sullivan—who was down in the fallout shelter with the First Family—heard in his earpiece to bring the President and First Lady to Marine One at once.
“Time to go!”
Without saying a word, the Danforths followed Agent Sullivan out to the White House South Lawn and boarded Marine One. The pilots wore Level A hazmat suits, along with everyone else on board the chopper.
Agent Daniel Sullivan barked, “Take POTUS and FLOTUS to Joint Base Andrews immediately!”
“Out!” the pilot said. He flicked a switch and the propellers slowly roared to life. Once they were up to speed, Marine One slowly lifted off the White House lawn.
President Danforth nodded to the man seated across from him, knowing who he was, then stared out the window wondering how he would explain to his wife what he was about to do. He ignored it for now and steadied his gaze downward.
The bright flood lights trained down on the National Mall made it easy to see the numerous corpses and severed body parts scattered about. The carnage was unspeakable.
The First Lady chose not to look.
President Danforth couldn’t help but recall the life-altering sensation of being flown back to the White House, from Camp David, on the day of the Rapture. It felt eerily similar to now. In his mind’s eye, he still saw the thick black smoke billowing up everywhere, darkening and polluting the skies.
Whereas that incident was caused by a silent evacuation, this appeared to be a coordinated attack on his country. Also different from last time was upon landing at the White House, the eyes of the world were all on him wanting to hear the most powerful man on earth tell them everything would eventually be okay.
Who cares what I have to say now?
The President shrugged his shoulders and refocused. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. Taking a moment to think things through, he sat up in his seat and buried his still-raw emotions as deep as they would go for now.
Only his most trusted advisers knew what he was about to do...
Upon landing at Joint Base Andrews—under heavy guard—Marine One wheeled its way to Air Force One, for the trip to Denver, Colorado. But in this case, it was the President’s “doomsday plane”, code named E-4B.
Designed to withstand a nuclear blast detonated from the ground, it could also outpace it, allowing the Commander-in-Chief to remain in the air indefinitely, if need be, without disrupting the continuity of government.
Just when President Danforth thought the news couldn’t get any worse, it did. According to his Joint Chief of Staff, William Messersmith, many in Alaska and Hawaii were also experiencing similar symptoms and were among the sick and dying...
The President didn’t reply. He was too busy mentally calculating this latest mass reduction to the American populace—first the 100,000,000 from the Rapture, then the 70,000,000 who recently denounced their citizenship and relocated elsewhere.
Now this? He wondered who was responsible for this latest attack; Salvador Romanero? Islamic jihadists? Or was it an inside job? It was soon to know...
The First Couple boarded the President’s plane. Upon arriving, they’d be taken to an underground secure location where the President could still run the government. Only the man climbing the steps up to the fuselage with the First Lady wasn’t President Danforth. It was one of the President’s body doubles.
When the Danforths boa
rded Marine One on the White House South Lawn, the stunt double was already on board waiting for them. With everyone wearing hazmat suits, no one knew who anyone else was.
Before getting off Marine One to board Air Force One, the President informed the First Lady that he wouldn’t be joining her in Colorado, that he would go to the underground bunker in northern Virginia, to continue putting the counter shadow government in place.
Hearing this, the calm demeanor Melissa Danforth had miraculously displayed while en route to Joint Base Andrews quickly evaporated. The First Lady was not happy! The one time she needed her husband by her side more than any other, he was sending her away. She begrudgingly agreed to his wishes...
Once Air Force One (E-4B) took to the skies, bound for Colorado, President Danforth got off Marine One still in his hazmat gear. He unceremoniously climbed into the back of a black Suburban and was driven to the underground bunker without the usual motorcade and secret service protection.
Only Agent Daniel Sullivan was with him.
With the “real” President not on board the aircraft, Air Force One was inaptly named for this particular flight.
If the press only knew...
MEANWHILE, THE CHAOS UP and down the East Coast of America was unimaginable. Mass casualties were being reported everywhere. Many in hot zones who weren’t blown to pieces were severely disfigured. They went in search of the closest hospitals.
But hospitals were overwhelmed with the sick and the dying. Most, fearing death was near, demanded to be seen, but were turned away with along countless others.
Hospital administrators begged for police assistance to keep the masses at bay until antidotes could be administered and decontamination units could be set up in hospital parking lots.
Maternity wards were placed on complete lock down and were protected by armed guards.
Using bullhorns, hospital staff in full protective gear up and down the east coast of the United States shouted similar messages to the massive crowds within the sound of their voices, “Please remain calm. You must receive antidote shots and be fully decontaminated before going home. Otherwise you may expose your family and friends to the toxic nerve gas. Mass decontamination units are being dispatched to all infected areas.
“Once set up, each unit can decontaminate two-hundred people per hour. Naturally, pregnant women must be the first to receive antidotes and go through decontamination. We’ll eventually get to everyone!
“Until then, if any of you have open cuts or abrasions anywhere on your bodies, they must be covered immediately! Do not under any circumstances put your hands in or near your mouths for any reason, or you could risk ingesting the deadly toxins. This means no smoking. No drinking. No eating.”
Once mass decontamination units were set up, everyone exposed to the deadly toxins was ordered to strip out of their contaminated clothing, including underwear.
Everyone was then scrubbed thoroughly and hosed down with warm water before being given protective gear and gas masks to put on. Everything they had with them—eyeglasses, contact lenses, jewelry, cell phones and the like—was confiscated and burned in furnaces.
Only time would tell if it worked...
But for many waiting in line, by the time it was their turn to be decontaminated and receive the proper antidotes, it would be too late. Most would die gruesome deaths.
BY THE TIME AIR Force One touched down in Colorado, President Danforth was in his underground bunker in Virginia. The situation was far worse than first expected.
It was now feared that millions more had been exposed to the very same nerve gas in every country in the Western Hemisphere and were also among the sick and dying.
The President’s heart sank in his chest when a CDC official (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) told him on a secure conference line, “Many who were exposed to the nerve agents would have had a fighting chance of survival, had antidotes been administered within a few hours.
“But since sarin is odorless and initial symptoms resemble a bad case of allergies or a common cold—headaches, runny nose, excessive sweating, tightness in the chest and constriction of the pupils—apparently most didn’t take it seriously at first. Either that or they were so caught up in the first Universal Children’s Day celebrations that they decided to tough-it-out.
“But when millions suddenly had difficulty breathing, and their vision became blurred, most fell into a state of confusion. By the time they made it to hospitals for Atropine and Pralidoxime antidotes, they were already drooling at the mouth and vomiting uncontrollably.
“Their bodies jerked violently from convulsions until they lost control of all body functions and became comatose until they eventually died. No one in the path of the explosives had a chance. Even if they survived the blast, death is all but certain for them.”
“How many casualties can we expect overall?”
“Sorry to say, Mister President, but I believe the final tally in America will be in the tens of millions...”
President Danforth blinked hard. This was unfathomable! He ended the call and stared at the wall opposite him, wondering why this had happened on his watch.
No other American President had experienced anything quite like it. In fact, in the 200+ years his predecessors had occupied the White House, the many tragedies they’d endured combined, couldn’t come close to comparing to what he suffered over the past nine months. Not even close!
Unfortunately for him, the suffering was far from over. When Jefferson Danforth left his wife back at Joint Base Andrews, he didn’t know it would be the last time he would ever see her again, in this lifetime or the next.
Had he known, he would have never left her side...
47
AT 4:30 A.M., SPAIN time, Salvador Romanero was awakened from a deep sleep. He didn’t know the full extent of his dream, only that something had happened somewhere in the world causing numerous casualties.
What caused him to bolt up in bed was an inner-foreboding that countless pregnant women were among the casualties. My precious children!
Suddenly there was a knock on his door. “You may enter, Devereaux,” Romanero said, to the man in charge of managing his residence in Spain.
Romanero knew it was Devereaux because only he had the authority to knock on that door, let alone enter Romanero’s sleeping quarters. But only during an emergency.
This was an emergency!
“Sorry for waking you, your Highness,” the French man said softly, not knowing he was already awake.
Romanero squinted, then blinked a few times to adjust to the light Devereaux had turned on. “What is it?”
“The Pope needs to speak to you immediately. It’s urgent. He’s on the phone waiting for you.” The fear in Pierre Devereaux’s eyes was palpable.
Romanero climbed out of bed and started pacing the tile floor. “That’ll be all, Devereaux.”
“Yes, your Highness. Call me if you need anything,” he said, slowly walking backwards toward the door, careful not to take his eyes off the Miracle Maker.
“Hurry, Devereaux!”
“Yes, your Grace.”
Romanero didn’t reply. He picked up his personal line. “What can I do for you, your Eminence?”
The Pope was calm and lucid, “America has just fallen under attack.”
“How?” After spending most of the night with the Prince of Darkness in his meditation room, Romanero sensed something big was about to happen. But unlike the crystal-clear vision his master had given him regarding the earthquakes, this one was rather vague.
“Well, Your Highness, there were multiple explosions up and down the east coast of the United States during the fireworks festivities.”
“Were there casualties?”
“Numerous. It appears to have been a coordinated chemical attack not only on America but on the entire Western Hemisphere.”
“Has anyone claimed responsibility?” Romanero asked calmly.
“Yes. The nation of Islam.�
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“Did they give a reason?”
“They gave three. First to strike at the Great Satan...” The Bishop of Rome paused, praying Romanero wouldn’t become so incensed with the next words out of his mouth that he would send an earthquake to the Vatican.
When the Pope hesitated, Romanero said, “Go on, your Eminence.”
The Pope cleared his throat, “Since children being born in this new world you’re creating will never be given the chance to convert to Islam, those responsible view all children as infidels who need to be wiped off the face of the Earth with all other heretics. They vow to keep killing children at all costs.”
Romanero became fidgety. “And the third reason?”
“Revenge on you, your Highness, for siding with Israel and for not allowing them to rebuild their three holy sites. Also, for never acknowledging the Muslim mother who gave birth earlier. They claim they’re planning for your eventual assassination.”
Really now! “Let me get further briefed on the situation. I’ll get back to you later.”
At that, the call ended.
Much like those from the secret society who’d helped elevate Salvador Romanero to his lofty position, both the Miracle Maker and the Pope weren’t the slightest bit concerned about the great loss of life that just occurred in the Western Hemisphere.
Ridding the earth of billions of dissidents was all part of the plan. Whereas Planet Earth boasted a population of more than seven billion humans less than a year ago, it had dwindled down to just under five billion in just a few short months.
They were off to a rather impressive start, but the world was still overpopulated by more than four billion humans. So, in that light, the Miracle Maker wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about the countless millions now feared dead across the Atlantic Ocean.
But pregnant women were altogether different. Deep down inside, Romanero feared perhaps as many as a million expectant mothers were killed. Many were just days away from giving birth.
The Countdown Begins Page 32
