Chapter 13
Go God Go!
The Johnson’s
When the Johnson’s pulled back onto the long stretch towards Chattanooga off the last Manchester exit, they were alone on the interstate. They had their pickup filled with empty chicken cages. They were returning from the Nashville Farmer’s Market. They got a good price for their 200 plumb chickens, and they made enough to make it through the winter until they could grow a good crop of vegetables for the late spring market.
Al Johnson looked up and did a double-take, "Where in the world did those bikers come from?" From behind the Johnson’s came the loud rumbling of bikes. "I can see for miles back, and these guys are right behind me, no exits for miles. They appeared out of thin air." A group of bikes blazed passed them at over 100 mph. Al still couldn’t believe it.
"Mom, did you see the size of those guys? I’d hate to get on their bad side." He tried to focus on some of the closer ones while trying to read their jackets but couldn’t. They were seamless blurs.
His wife pointed to a couple of stragglers who waved happily at them. "They got swords! Look at the size of those things? The handles are sticking out over their heads. The blades are almost touching the ground. Slow down, Al! Don’t try to catch up with them! Slow down! Let them by!"
"Catch them, what do you think I’m driving, a race car run on nitro or something?" He braked to let them pass even faster.
Danged if You Do,
Danged if You Don’t
Carey and Anne were screaming scared. They were 45 miles ahead of the funeral caravan and didn’t know it. The V.W. was hammering out 60 mph while the dirt bikes beat the kids half-to-death.
Freckles was propped on the handlebars while his rear end took a fierce beating, slamming hard at every vibration. He was sure his butt was a giant bruise by now, and he was even losing the feeling in his legs.
They were 20 miles from where Highway 127 crossed I-24, or as it were, from the first roadblock. The good-old boys made an impressive blockade using their pickup trucks directly under the interstate overpass. They positioned themselves with their deer rifles and shotguns. They suspected that Casey and his friends would have their own roadblocks. The kids didn’t know they could probably get through with just some smiles and friendly waves. After all, didn’t God tell them to leave? It had to mean danger. They assumed that it was because of Casey, who else? Their instincts told them not to trust anyone. If they saw a roadblock, they assumed it was for them, not knowing about the others. As they drew closer to the blocked bypass, they heard a terrible racket from behind. Anne looked back and saw a swarm of leather-jacketed bikers. Carey pulled back even with Anne.
She shouted, "We’re dead meat!"
She continued, "These guys are probably working for Casey; and even if they aren’t, they’d love to get their hands on us two."
A hundred bikers were fast overtaking them. It looked like they were going twice their speed, at least 100 mph. There was no way for them to outrun them or get away. The first wave of the bikes pulled up beside Anne and Carey with the VW a mile ahead.
They thought, "Look at the size of these guys."
They both thought there was something familiar about them, and they didn’t get a sinister feeling, but it was a somewhat friendly one, a certain sense of assurance and comfort. Still, they were almost fatalistic about them. Stop and pull over, and they got you; keep going, and they catch up and got you, anyway. Danged if you do, danged if you don’t.
Anne noticed first and yelled to Carey, "They’re angels."
Carey saw the colors and emblems on the biker jackets. They read, "The Angels" at the bottom of a halo-like ring encircling the back of the jacket. Inscribed in gold letters across the circle were the words, “Servants of the Most High God.”
Carey answered, "I know they’re the angels. I can read, don’t you know." Anne always noticed when Carey got really nervous that she went a little valley girl on her—don’t you know—don’t you know—don’t you know. Anne laughed when she heard it.
Anne answered, "No, they’re angels, not the angels!" Carey finally got it, especially when she noticed the sword handles poking crossways over their heads.
The first wave passed, leaving them surrounded by 50 others, five of which had sidecars. "You guys are going to need some help," an angel shouted at them. Pull over, and we’ll take you from here."
The girls closed their eyes as they pulled over saying to themselves, "Let them be real angels. Let them be good angels. Let them be nice angels. Let them be heavenly angels." They were still trying to get used to this angel thing.
As angels approached them, their star eyes gave them completely away. Sighs of relief came from Anne and Carey. Freckles hadn’t been noticing or listening to anyone. His main attention was on his aching butt. When they pulled over, he rolled out onto the nearby grass, groaned, and rubbed his rear end. He almost didn’t want the feeling to come back. He kept thinking about sitting in a hot bath for hours.
An angel walked over to Freckles and threw a pillow at him saying, "Just for you, Freckles. It’s got a hot-water bottle interior all heated up for you. I hope it makes you feel better." Freckles clutched at it and immediately sat on it in the grass with a silly grin on his face.
Anne and Carey carefully went over to an angel they thought was in charge. They looked around at the other angels, and they could see that they all had star eyes. They felt electric that God was truly taking care of them.
"Are you guys really here to take care of us?" Anne asked from a distance, still not taking chances by getting too close.
"Of course," said the angel, "what do you expect from your Lord and Father, the Boy Scouts?"
Carey elbowed Anne, laughing at his response, "I think he’s trying to be funny, Anne," she whispered. "He made a joke, laugh will you?" They both chuckled as the angel blushed pleasantly, but that was about as much humor as he had in him.
"My name is Joseph, and I’m a close friend of Aaron. He assigned us to get you to the top of Monteagle. When you get there, we’ll let you keep the transportation. Consider it a gift from our Father."
Anne looked puzzled and said to Carey, "Who’s Aaron?" They shrugged the question off and thanked the Lord for him anyway.
Freckles came running up holding the pillow to his butt, "Cool, no more handlebars for me!" He placed his pillow in the first sidecar he came to and jumped in.
"We’ve slowed down your friends, but we need to catch up as soon as possible. Are you ready to go to the top?" asked Joseph as he watched the kids piling into the remaining sidecars. They gave him the thumbs up as their answer. The angels accelerated to top speed in seconds. It was like riding a roller coaster at old Opryland, then they ducked their heads behind the small windshield to avoid bugs.
By the time they got up to 90 mph, they reached Keel and the rest. They were standing beside the road by their VW while grinning and feeling quite blessed and special for their new biker friends. It wasn’t long before they all were on the road again. This time, 50 of the bikers moved five miles ahead forming a "V" formation. The other 50 followed in the same pattern and protected the kids from all sides. Keel’s V.W. was following behind the lead angel with the rest of the kids in single file behind him.
The local hunting lodge heard the rumbling, and without question, knew it was trouble. When they saw the first bikers, they talked about just how much trouble this really could be. They prepared themselves for anything but were going to wait to see.
A younger hunter named Billy suggested, "Let’s not try checking them out. Let’s just permanently stop them. No one will ever know the difference."
The others hammered him from all directions with the same responses, “Are you crazy? They aren’t our problem! Just let them through! We are looking for kidnappers, not road warriors!” Billy didn’t seem to be paying attention.
Before getting t
o the roadblock, the angels saw 30 hunters in camouflage standing in front of a row of pickup trucks. No one really expected that the roadblock would be a problem. Kind of hard to hide thousands of kids on the backs of a handful of bikes, but no one planned on Billy. Billy stepped in front of the others and started firing at the bikers. His friends tackled him to the ground, but not in time. He had lit a fuse that could not be put out.
The first wave of angels quickly responded by raising up on their back tires and fixing their swords in Lancelot fashion just before reaching the disarrayed hunters.
Someone shouted, “Every man for themselves!”
Others, “These guys are crazy!”
The more prudent, “I’m out of here!”
The first group just started firing while the second started hiding, then the last group started running away. Bikes exploded from hit gas tanks, and other bikes skidded on their sides sparking across concrete while bike wheels flew off, streaking through the air. By the time the angels were 20 feet away, the lead angels were torn apart by gunfire. The first angels crashed into the firing line and flew over the tops of the trucks, some in pieces, some still riding burning bikes. The hunters kept trying to dodge the debris but also continued firing at the remaining angels while some were caught head-on by the torched bikes. Their screams mixed with the sound of screeching metal to metal on concrete as it cracked the air. Finally, a dozen intact angel bikers made it successfully to the firing line and impaled a group of hunters. They pushed them back into the blockade and pinned them to the now burning pickups. The force of their speed caused the angels to pitch-pole through the air over the trucks as they joined their burning friends scattered over the pavement.
Slowly, the maimed but undaunted angels started moving metal, burning bikes, trucks, and body parts out of the way to clear a large path through the blockade. Some hunters kept firing and watching their bullets not stopping any of them. Small groups of angels pushed up some more mobile vehicles on the side of the bypass and blocked them from rolling into the interstate with more debris.
Billy was still shooting while his friends looked on in unbelief. One of his friends commented, “Yeah, Billie. You’re doing such a good job of killing them that they’re pushing those trucks up hill out of the way. Don’t you get the idea that we may be a little out matched?"
He looked over at the rest of his friends and rolled his eyes, making a "crazy" sign about Billy with his hand over his head. They all were so scared that they had finally stopped firing and just watched as the angels continuing to move road debris.
They commented among themselves, "What are these guys made of?"
"What are you talking about?" asked Billy, continuing to fire.
A close friend commented to Billy, "I’m saying, I’m getting out of here. If they can live through this and do what they’re doing, they're not human. Look, some of them are still on fire. I don’t want any part of this. I hate to mention it, but I believe we may have shot some of our own. I’m getting out of here!”
"You all are a bunch of cowards!" yelled Billy.
"Yeah, Billy, but we are going to be live cowards!”
Everyone except Billy ran up the side of the interstate to the road above. Billy didn’t notice. He finally ran out of ammunition and saw the angels staring at him while he searched for more. He looked around and noticed that he was alone. He saw another group of angel bikers coming up the interstate, then he turned in a panic and ran back up to the road to find his friends.
His friends were already in their beer-run van. They were arguing about going back for Billy, "He’s a grownup. Let him make his own decisions. He’s the one who started this mess to begin with, and I’m not going down there again," yelled his best friend while starting the van.
"Hey, look there’s another group coming up the interstate, reinforcements. Let’s get out of here!" shouted another.
As they turned their van to get out onto the road, they heard pounding on its side and Billy screaming, "Don’t leave me with those monsters! Hey, guys! Don’t leave me!"
His friend shook his head in disbelief, "Ralph, Billy is your cousin, isn't he? Are you sure there wasn’t some inbreeding in your family or something?"
They opened the back of the van, and Billy fell in and scrambled to safety. "About time!"
Ralph finally answered, "To be honest, there was."
His friends mumbled, “Figures."
The rest of the caravan passed through easily while the first wave of angels continued to busy themselves tidying up a little more. Keel saw the path the angels cleared and thought, "Man, there’s enough room to get a Greyhound bus through."
Five miles down the road, Keel’s V.W. started seriously burning oil. They all pulled over and Joseph said, "Since your car is acting up, why don’t you all take the bikes with the sidecars. You’ll be okay. Keep your cool. Act friendly. We’ll be near."
The kids were excited about the bikes, and the angels even gave them snazzy looking helmets. "No sense breaking the laws," said Joseph. Joseph thought how silly that sounded since they just went to war with the hunters minutes earlier.
Anne and Carey joked about looking like the Power Rangers, especially since their helmets were in different, brilliant colors. "Now, all we need are those colored uniforms to match," said Anne.
Carey said, "Sure, then we’d be arrested by the fashion police. What a deal!"
The kids laughed and noticed the angels had disappeared. It reminded Keel of Aaron. "There one minute, gone the next. Boy, are they good at that," he thought.
Preparing To Suffer
Nash was jammed into a police car and hauled down to Metro. He was fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a holding cell, but no one touched him. There wasn’t a nod or word said to him as he moved through booking. Most of this was because of the Christian policemen. The Lord impressed them with an urgency to watch over Nash, but they didn’t know why. Not even the old wild dogs at the department were willing to have witnesses to abusing a prisoner. It was just enough to keep him safe, but they all knew the real test would be in the cells tonight.
They were able to run Nash before the judge with no more than a couple words to hold him over without bail. Nash’s cell was open on three sides with two beds and a single toilet. The cell smelled more from the prisoners than the dirty toilet. Nash sat in the corner by himself. No one liked corners since there wasn't a way to escape from them. Everyone was quiet and just watched him.
Nash was in bright contrast to the others in the cell. He wore a white dress shirt with a pair of Duck pants and brown Hush Puppy loafers. Nash was more concerned about the kids and Enya than he was about himself. He knew in his heart that they were okay. It was only 1:30 p.m., but he knew they were well on their way to the mountain by now. He missed Enya, and knew that she’d die if she saw this pit he was in.
He fell asleep against his corner and was jostled and poked awake by a very small man with bony fingers. "Mister, mister," his voice crackled, "you got a visitor. Do me a favor, mister. Get rid of him as fast as you can. He makes me feel crazy."
Nash looked up to see Dar-Raven standing at the bars. He instantly started saying, "Jesus, Jesus, praise Your name," under his breath as he walked towards him.
Dar-Raven watched him and knew exactly what he was saying. He smiled and spoke softly, almost seductively to Nash. "Nash, Nash, you seem to have gotten up on the wrong side of bed today, and I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot. I want to offer my assistance."
Nash didn’t speak but kept thinking praise words, but Dar-Raven didn’t flinch. "You're a very faithful man, Nash. What if, we made a deal? The deal of a lifetime. You don’t seem that interested in yourself, but maybe you’re interested in the others. Let’s say, your wife or maybe those real young kids? Do you care for them, Nash?”
Nash looked directly into Dar-Raven’s swirling black eyes, "You know I do."
"Goo
d, good, that's much better. Let's say, I spare your wife, Enya. I believe that's her name, and the small kids. Everyone below, oh, how about, no, let's go for everyone under 13 years old? In exchange for those troubling teenagers? I can do that, you know?" Dar-Raven changed his facial looks slightly to look like Billy Graham’s. It was for effect, just a little edge.
Nash shrugged his shoulders saying, "You know the answer. I won’t give you anyone, not one. My Lord and my God can take care of all of them. With Aaron’s help, you’ll be lucky if you end up
with a stray cat to take back with you. Maybe Aaron will use you as target practice again. If you’re in enough pieces, maybe you could repair yourself, oh, let’s say sometime in the year 3000." Nash turned his back on Dar-Raven while purposely trying to insult him.
Dar-Raven’s face changed to a deep, angry red. The fact that a human knew how Aaron messed him up last time threw him off. He thrust his hands through the bars, spun Nash around, and grabbed him by his shirt collar, then pulled Nash’s face against the bars.
Others in the cell jumped back against the farthest wall. One prisoner started yelping like a dog, then howling. Dar-Raven was triggering the pent-up insanity in them, forcing it out of them. It came from fear of the raw predator. They were caged, and knew that Dar-Raven could come through the bars.
"I’m going to make it my mission in life to make you an example of my long-learned abilities. If you are alive in the morning, in once piece, I’ll do you the favor of letting you out of this cell myself. But, something tells me that these quiet little guys are going to get a taste for the extreme, and I’ll make sure you get a slow dose of it before you die. You’ll pray for death by morning." Dar-Raven turned and stormed away.
The result was instantaneous. The other prisoners started acting more and more agitated. They paced like large cats in the zoo, mumbling, growling, hissing, punching the bars with their bawled fists, and raging—it was terribly unnerving. Nash figured Dar-Raven was responsible. He was sure these guys weren’t believers, and Dar-Raven had total influence over them. He could destroy them from the inside out if he wanted. He had struck a match, and their minds were the kindling. The prisoners started talking together
and kept looking over at Nash. It started without warning. Three of the biggest guys jumped Nash and pinned him to the floor. They beat on him, then another group took over. He passed out several times; but when he came to, they were still on him. He could do nothing but lie on the floor praying to die and felt that he was going to, then he passed out for the final time until morning.
God’s Caravan
The funeral procession stopped traffic for miles with 150 cars and vans, lights burning with a good-size angel police escort. The black wagon took the caravan straight out I-24 without any difficulties. It was working, and each mile was a greater victory. They were the first to come across the underpass skirmish area. They saw bikes still burning and chunks of metal from pickup trucks thrown in piles on both sides of the road. They saw the charred remains of the hunters laid out in perfect order in the grassy median as if they were looking like they were ready for inspection.
John asked Smitty, "Weren’t we the first in line? What do you think this was all about?"
Smitty got up on his knees to see better and noticed, "Hey Dad, there’s some angel feathers scattered around in the grass, mostly burnt. Look Dad," he pointed to the top of the interstate on both sides. Several hundred angels were waving at them with their star eyes sparkling against the afternoon sun.
John puzzled over the carnage, "There must be more groups than us heading for Sanctuary. I wonder who they are. One thing for sure, I’d hate to be the ones trying to explain this mess, wouldn’t you?"
Smitty smiled and happily waved at the angels. He felt like many of the children that this was a great, grand adventure.
Cruising Through
God’s Dozen didn’t have any more trouble. They ran into only one other roadblock before reaching Monteagle. They wondered why I-24 needed two so close together. They figured it must be the competing hunting lodges. They waved at them and moved through without a hitch. Anne noticed there was a mix of some very tall roadblock guys with sunglasses among the others. Could it be? Probably, she thought.
Making It To The Top
The first two bus caravans started out only 20 minutes behind the funeral procession, 25 miles apart. The CAT buses got held up with a minor mechanical breakdown just past Murfreesboro. They let the other caravan pass but were back on the road soon. That put them 40 minutes behind the others.
Since the path was cleared for the first roadblock, the second was only a bump. They stopped the first bus caravan, and the hunters wanted information and news about the kidnapped kids. The lead driver got out closing the door behind him and started a rumor about suspects having been spotted earlier that day around Bowling Green, Kentucky. In the midst of the hunters, there were several distinct guys in flannel shirts with sunglasses on this cloudy day—More angels.
Everyone thought the new guys were someone else’s cousins. The news about Bowling Green was defusing. The hunters had been there since morning and had enough "Bubba" time. Football was cranking up for the afternoon, and it was getting time to forget this stuff and go home.
Soon after, the CAT buses rolled by, but no one even cared, except the fans. They thought there must be a shindig going on somewhere. They hollered and shouted at several buses while recognizing their favorite performers. The bus drivers blasted their horns and waved at them. The rest were packing up their sack lunches and "dead soldiers" (beer bottles) getting ready to leave.
A little later they learned about the skirmish, which had left some of their friends dead. They also heard the stories of ten-foot monsters riding miniature spaceships and firing laser cannons. It got all mixed up except for the funerals. Most blamed the hunters for partying too hard and killing each other in a free for all. What bullets didn’t do, the explosions from hit gas tanks did. The survivors hid, and many left town with their families in the next couple of days.
Children of the Sanctuary Page 16
