The Rapture of Omega

by Stacy Dittrich

  Entering Hell—Alone

  Taking a deep breath, I began a slow walk toward the edge of the woods, preparing for the worst. I was only about ten feet away when I felt my phone vibrate. Michael.

  “Where in the hell are you?” he asked.

  “Michael,” I whispered, “listen to me. I’ve found the cult. They’re back at the farm.”

  “I’m on my way, right now. Call for backup, CeeCee! Stay there and wait until other units arrive!”

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I can’t wait—I think we’re out of time.”

  I quietly shut my phone before Michael could protest.

  The music was coming from the area of the tents near the river but it seemed to echo all around me. Illeana no doubt had several members keeping guard, so I would work my way down to the river, far from the tents, cross it, and approach from the other side. I didn’t think they would expect that. It was warm, and the sweat began pouring into my eyes. My mind played images of what could possibly be happening, but nothing prepared me for what I was about to encounter…

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Entering Hell—Alone

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Author’s Note

  Praise For Stacy Dittrich!

  Other Leisure books by Stacy Dittrich:

  Copyright

  The Rapture of Omega

  Stacy Dittrich

  Brooke and Jordyn, keep wishing on those stars…

  “Eve was seduced by the snake (Satan) and gave birth to two seed lines: Cain, the direct descendent of Satan and Eve, and Abel, who was of good Aryan stock through Adam. Cain became the progenitor of the Jews in his subsequent matings with non-Adamic races.”

  —The two-seed line doctrine;

  a biblical justification for hatred

  (Project Megiddo, FBI, 1999)

  “Yes, as an Adventist I did fall. She was the most prettiest girl you ever saw. And when she came to that church and got up there, and she sang that song, and she looked at me—right dead at me. And I went to feeling those feelings. I didn’t know anything about the word of God yet. But I knew that she was wearing that dress. She looked like a banana that’s fixing to pop out of the skin. And I said, ‘I don’t want that.’ But I was deceived anyway—cause I heared specifically that she wasn’t gonna be at her father’s house. And her father was the minister. So now you know the story. And ever since then I’m just a devil. Well, okay. I’m a devil who knows a little bit more about the Bible then anybody else does…and that’s yet to be proven.”

  —David Koresh

  Branch Davidian, Leader

  “To me death is not a fearful thing. It’s living that is cursed.”

  —Jim Jones

  People’s Temple, Leader

  “I can’t dislike you, but I will say this to you: you haven’t got long before you are all going to kill yourselves, because you are all crazy. And you can project it back at me…but I am only what lives inside each and every one of you.”

  —Charles Manson

  Manson Family, Leader

  “As true today as it was 2000 years ago, no one (of this civilization) gets to my Father or enters the Kingdom of Heaven except through me. There is no other son of his, or representative from his kingdom, incarnate. Connecting with that kingdom occurs only while a member is incarnate, as I am today…”

  —Marshall Applewhite

  Heaven’s Gate, Leader

  “Life is punishment for the sins of our fathers. Only when our souls return to Eden, our eternal home, will we be forever cleansed.”

  —Illeana Barron

  The Children of Eden, Leader

  Prologue

  Jonestown, Guyana

  November 18, 1978

  “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Light. No one can come to the father but through me!”

  The words, screaming over the microphone, pierced her ears like millions of tiny needles fighting to reach the darkest depths of her mind. Putting her hands over both ears did little to ease the pain. She saw her older brother also had his hands over his ears; and his eyes were closed tight, as if waiting for the bomb to drop. Hunkered down and hiding underneath the bed, one would suppose that was the most likely reason. But the truth of the matter was far worse.

  The temperature in the cabin soared as the day went on, causing both Rebecca and her brother, John, to long for a taste of water. Oh, they could have easily gone outside and drank the red water to quench their thirst like everyone else, but their mother told them to hide and wait for her—no matter what. When the screams began less than an hour later, Rebecca held her breath. The fear that had slowly crept inside held her in its tight grip; her heart was racing, and the sweat poured into her eyes. She knew that a six-year-old girl hadn’t ever died of a heart attack, but she was scared just the same. Rebecca and John were holding each other now, praying together that their mother would come for them soon. Rebecca accepted the somber truth that her father would not ever come back. He was probably asleep by now, along with the others. Still, she wanted her mommy.

  Her father brought them here six weeks ago. He was the one that said their salvation was in Africa with “Dad.” That was what Mr. Jones wanted everyone to call him, Dad or Father.

  The Temple had all been practicing for this day for a long time. It was supposed to take place a month from now, but this morning, at prayer, “Dad” said, “Today is the day of salvation.” Rebecca never truly understood the motive behind it, although she knew it had something to do with the upcoming apocalypse; “Dad” said this would be their only way into heaven.

  Mommy never liked “Dad.” Once in a while, Rebecca would see her mommy’s eyes roll during his evening teachings, or she would sneak a wink and a smile to Rebecca and John. Rebecca closed her eyes and imagined what was going on outside.

  The lines would be long as the members stood to willingly accept their drink, their ticket to heaven. The dedicated m
others would hold their babies as the men shot the liquid into the infants’ mouths with large syringes. One by one, they would each lie down and go to sleep, only to awaken in the house of God. “Dad” said it would be miraculous. Those who decided not to seek their salvation would be taken anyway.

  Rebecca felt a growing resentment toward her father for bringing them here. He had changed. Gone was the man who took them out for ice cream after dinner, the man that told her bedtime stories, and the man that could impersonate Donald Duck better than anyone. Mommy knew that, too. Rebecca could see it in her face when her mommy looked at her father. Mommy…

  “Where is she?”

  John’s breathless question gave her a brief reprieve from her thoughts, but brought her back to the nightmarish reality they were in.

  “Ma-maybe she’s already asleep.” Rebecca’s voice quivered.

  “Don’t say that, Becky! She’ll come back!”

  The fumbling doorknob about six feet to their right ended their conversation. John promptly put his hand over Rebecca’s mouth and pulled her as far back against the wall as possible. Sheltered only by the soiled mattress above their heads, they waited. Rebecca could feel John’s heart pounding through his sweat-soaked shirt and noticed her own pulse had quickened so rapidly, she thought she might faint.

  “John! Rebecca!” The loud whisper of their mother’s voice filled the room.

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Rebecca pushed her brother away and crawled out from under the bed, at breakneck speed, before embracing her mother around the waist.

  “Shhh! You need to be quiet, we don’t have much time. John, come here!”

  Rebecca saw her mother look toward the door. Her mother, like John and Rebecca, was soaked with sweat, and dirty. Her clothes were disheveled and she had a look in her eyes that Rebecca had never seen before; her mother was terrified, and that made Rebecca cry.

  “Becky, honey, shhh.” Her mother knelt down and embraced her. “It’s going to be okay, but I need you two to listen, please. There’s a loose panel in the wood over there. Push on it and crawl through it—but be careful no one sees you!” Her breath was quickening as she looked at the door again. “Run, as fast as you have ever run, straight back behind the cabin into the jungle. If you stay straight, you’ll come up to a big tree with red flowers growing around the bottom—it’s hollowed. Crawl inside there and wait for me. Don’t come out unless you hear me calling! Do you understand? Don’t come out at all!”

  Rebecca and John nodded their heads furiously up and down as Rebecca continued to wipe the tears that flooded her eyes.

  “Where’s Daddy?” John’s own eyes were watery.

  Rebecca’s mother paused. “He’s asleep.”

  John began to really cry as Rebecca’s own floodgate opened up, full force. Their mother pulled them both to her breast, holding them tightly, but not for very long. She gently pushed them out in front of her, arm’s length.

  “I love you both very much, okay?” Her mother was fighting back her tears something fierce. “Do this, and I will be there—I promise, and we’ll leave this place and never come back again. Now, go. John, take care of your sister. Go!”

  Her mother pushed them toward the wall of loose paneling. As Rebecca crawled through the hole, she took just a split second to look back at her mother. Standing in the doorway of the cabin, her mother was sobbing as she watched her children escape.

  “I love you, Mommy!” Rebecca could barely produce the words.

  “Go, Becky!”

  John pushed her through the hole before climbing out behind her. He grabbed her hand tightly and pulled as they started a dead run toward the jungle. Not looking back, Rebecca heard her mother scream as they reached the edge of the trees. It was a death scream. Rebecca had been hearing them for the last hour. John stopped so suddenly, she ran into him and almost fell down. He turned to face her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Go! I’ll meet you there!”

  “Joh-Johnny, noooo!”

  “Now, goddamn it!”

  It was too late. Her brother had already started back toward the cabin. Doing what John had ordered, Rebecca had only run ahead a few feet when the sound of gunfire caused her to stop. She turned just in time to see her ten-year-old brother fall to the ground, riddled with bullets. If only for the sheer will to live, Rebecca ran like she had never before, deep into the jungle, the sound of gunfire close behind her. Dizziness and the pain in her side overcame her as she reached the tree with the red flowers. Crawling inside she began taking deep breaths as she listened to the potent voice, far off in the distance, scream his last words.

  “If we can’t live in peace, then let’s die in peace! We are not committing suicide—it’s a revolutionary act…”

  Chapter One

  Present

  “The National Weather Service has just confirmed a powerful cell forming off the coast of South Africa, expected to reach hurricane status within days. The remaining Florida residents are already making plans to evacuate. If the expected path reaches the coast of Florida by next week, Hurricane Stephen would make the fourth major hurricane to devastate the Florida coast in the last six weeks. Florida governor Randall Jimenez is expected to order a mandatory evacuation for affected areas beginning Friday. In other news…”

  I reached over and turned the radio off before tossing my half-smoked cigarette out the window. I didn’t need to hear any more depressing news about other parts of the world. I had enough here, in Mansfield, Ohio, to keep me occupied.

  Just thirty feet from my car lay the remains of a murder victim—young, pretty, and savagely brutalized. I’d say that allows me a significant amount of depression. Fifteen years of looking at bodies never gets easier. I’d give a number on this particular murder, but I quit counting a long time ago. Most people assume that I, Sergeant Detective CeeCee Gallagher, am made of steel. After reading newspaper accounts that have deemed me the ace detective of the Richland Metropolitan Police Department Major Crimes Division, they tend to look genuinely surprised when I show any type of emotion toward a victim. That fact alone disturbs me. I don’t want to be perceived as a coldhearted bitch that was born without tear ducts, or a soul, for that matter. But then again, why should I care what they think?

  The warm stream of sweat that slowly made its way down the side of my face alerted me that the air-conditioning in my car had just conked out. I sighed.

  “You gonna come out and look at this, or are you hellbent on losing forty pounds while you sit in there and melt?”

  So deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that my fellow detective, and dear friend, Jeff “Coop” Cooper, had walked up to my window. Boyishly handsome, and devilishly funny, Coop was married to the boss—Captain Naomi Cooper, formerly Kincaid. Naomi was on the riverbank with the others, processing the body and scene. Coop began running his fingers through his dark hair and fanning his shirt out.

  “Jesus! I thought it was supposed to cool down a little today.”

  “It has. We have officially cooled down to a balmy ninety-one degrees.”

  I whipped my long, sweat-soaked blonde hair into a ponytail before grabbing my briefcase off the passenger seat. Coop opened the door for me, still whining about the temperature.

  “Ninety-one degrees, my ass. I think this sucks.”

  “Ah, the pleasures of global warming.” I slammed my car door shut and nodded toward the embankment. “What have we got down there?”

  “Prepare yourself. She’s only been there about two days, but the heat has accelerated decomposition something awful. It’s not pretty, and you can only imagine the smell.” He crinkled his nose as if I needed a visual. “Coroner says it looks like some type of crude abortion. She bled out.”

  I stopped walking, already smelling the body. “What? Is she young?”

  “Not really, late twenties. A group of Boy Scouts on a nature hike found her. I remember doing that…” He paused briefly as if to reflect. “Of course I was only
in Boy Scouts for a year until my dad found out the leader was some homo—”

  “Coop, please.” Sometimes he needed to be redirected.

  “Yeah, right, sorry. Anyway, the coroner said she bled out here so this is probably where the murder occurred. It’s not just a body dump.”

  “Good, at least we don’t have to deal with any secondary crime scenes. Everything we’re looking for should be in this one spot.”

  Entering the crime scene, an embankment along the Mohican River, I absorbed the familiar sight. Evidence technicians wearing their rubber gloves and holding their evidence bags were everywhere. Some were taking photographs, and some were on their hands and knees in search of the most miniscule piece of fiber or hair that could prove to be the sole piece of evidence leading us to our killer. Yellow crime-scene tape was strewn between the trees along the embankment while other detectives, including Naomi, stood inside.

  It was a beautiful day, really. The region was known for its scenic value, usually traveled by tourists who wanted a leisurely stroll down the massive river’s banks to observe the rolling Appalachian foothills. It was disturbing to see a death scene mar a perfectly picturesque place. Of course, inside the mind of a murderer, things like that don’t matter.

  Naomi waved me over. She was statuesque, blonde, and stunningly beautiful, but she and I had a rocky past. We had smoothed things over throughout the years and had become good friends. It was a rare occasion that my husband, FBI Special Agent Michael Hagerman, and I went out to dinner or a movie without Naomi and Coop. We were like a family.

  “CeeCee, what took you so long?” Naomi asked as I teetered around an evidence technician bagging a pile of leaves.

  “Sorry, Isabelle and Selina both have soccer games tonight, so I had to wait until Michael got home.”

  “Sorry you’re gonna miss the games.” She tried to be sympathetic.

  “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. So are they. What’ve we got?”