by Mark Romang
Maddix saw a diverse mixture of transformed people all around him. The old had become young again. The lame and crippled walked with agility. The blind could see and the deaf could hear. The mentally impaired could think and speak with intelligence. The feeble and sick had become robust and healthy.
Maddix saw people of every skin color. Sojourners from every part of the globe had made their way home. He saw people from Asia and Europe and Africa and South America and North America and Scandinavia and from every continent. It was one big happy family of God. Gone were the petty doctrinal disagreements between the denominations. Everyone who clung to Jesus being the Son of God, and who believed Jesus died on the cross and rose to life to atone for mankind’s sins was here. But Maddix didn’t see anyone who rejected Jesus. These people were noticeably absent.
Maddix swiveled his head as he walked, using his enhanced vision to his advantage. Not only could he see for incredible distances, he could actually see through people and around them. His eyes scanned large swatches of people at one time. But somehow he didn’t see the man collide into him.
Maddix took a step back. He looked at who he ran into. He recognized the man even though the man was much different than when he dwelled on earth. Maddix looked into the eyes of a former assassin. He looked at the sanitized, heavenly version of Nikko Castellanos. “Nikko, is that you?”
Castellanos nodded. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me here.”
“You’re right, but I’m glad you made it, Nikko.”
“You had a big part in helping me get here, Andrew. The compassion and mercy you showed me in the cave steered me in the right direction. The manna helped to. I was so blind to the truth. But you helped me see.”
Maddix shook his head. “It wasn’t anything I did. It was God chasing after you. He can be relentless.”
Castellanos smiled. “Hey, I passed by your wife and son a little bit ago. Your SEAL buddy was with them. You’re almost to them.”
“Which direction did you see them?”
“Just keep heading in the direction you’re going. You’ll run into them.”
“Thanks, Nikko.” Maddix patted him on the arm, the same arm he’d broken in the cave. “I’ll be seeing you around, brother,” he added and moved on through the crowd. All around him he saw people reuniting with loved ones who’d gone before. Hugs and kisses and laughter filled the air. Families were whole again. It was an amazing scene to take in. Death could no longer separate families.
And then it was his turn to reunite. He saw them approaching. He ran to them, his arms open wide. Sara reached him first. They embraced tighter than they’d ever hugged while on earth. For a long time they didn’t say anything. Maddix finally broke the silence. “Nothing can ever tear us apart now, Sara. We’ll be together forever. We won’t be married, but we’ll be together…always.”
Sara pulled back and looked up at him. She smiled and touched his face. “You look so different, Andrew. You’re more powerful and even more handsome. But I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, you are an immortal.”
“You look different too, Sara. We’ve all been transformed. I’ve never seen you so beautiful. Your hair and skin are radiant.” Maddix embraced her again and then pulled free and turned his attention to Spencer. Spencer was no longer a towheaded five-year-old. Standing as tall as Maddix, Spencer looked like a young man in his prime. “Everyone in heaven was cheering you on when you asked Jesus into your heart, Spencer. But no one cheered harder or louder than me.”
“I think I felt your cheers somehow, Dad. I remembered the promise you asked me to keep, about when the Lord knocked on the door to my heart to let him in. I wished I would have done it sooner.”
Maddix shook his head. “You did it precisely on time, Spencer. The Korowai people needed to hear the Good News. Now, can give your old man a hug?”
Spencer rushed forward and wrapped his arms around him. Maddix smiled so hard he was sure his perpetually youthful face would develop wrinkles. He squeezed his son tight. All the struggles they went through on earth seemed so long ago. The memories were already fading. As he hugged Spencer he saw Webb standing there just behind them.
Maddix released Spencer and walked up to Coleton Webb. The hug-fest continued a little longer. “You did exactly as I asked, C-Dub. You carried out the mission I gave you to perfection. I was watching you the whole time. It was beautiful to watch you protecting my family. I never worried a bit.”
“It was my honor to do it, Mad Dog. You have a wonderful family.”
Maddix looked at Webb fondly. “I am so glad you’re here, C-Dub. Your mission continues. You have the same job up here as me. And I need your help.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be. The only thing I’m good at is fighting.”
“That’s exactly why I need you. You’re going to help me train the saints for battle.”
“What battle is that?”
“I think you know. But I’ll give you a hint. It’s the big one.”
“Is it Armageddon?”
Maddix nodded.
Webb looked around at all the saints heading toward and through the heavenly gates. “They don’t look like soldier material, Mad Dog.”
“Looks can be deceiving, C-Dub. We’ll have some advantages in our favor. We’re imperishable. We cannot die. Nuclear warheads could rain down on top of us, but it wouldn’t matter. We’ll walk through the mushroom clouds unscathed. And the best part is we’ll have Jesus leading us into battle.”
Webb smiled. “That sounds awesome. But I wish Caleb was here to help us with the training.”
“Did someone say my name?”
They all turned and saw Caleb Brennan standing amongst them. And Brennan wasn’t alone. Kyle Miller and Cody Hosmer stood with him. More hugs and backslapping ensued. The party in heaven never stopped.
Maddix looked his friend and former SEAL instructor over. He’d always found Caleb Brennan imposing. Not the biggest guy around, Brennan made up for it in toughness. He was a throwback Old West cowboy who could eat nails and spit tacks. If Popeye were real and had a handlebar mustache growing over his lip he would look like Caleb Brennan. But transformed into a heavenly being, Brennan had softened up a bit. Still, his handlebar mustache was never curlier than now.
“Whatever the great task was that God gave you to perform on earth, I’m glad I had a small part in it, Andrew,” Brennan said.
“You’ll always be a part of my life, Caleb, especially now.” When everyone had finished greeting each other, Maddix spoke up. “This reunion has been fun, but we should all go inside the city. I can’t begin to describe how wonderful heaven is. You’re going to love the rewards God has stored up for you.”
“That sounds good to me. Lead the way, Andrew,” Brennan said.
Maddix nodded and wrapped one arm around Sara and the other around Spencer. And together they walked into eternity.
Epilogue
The Oval Office—six weeks later
President Nathaniel Dixon sat at his desk and scanned the last page of the Sate of the Union Address he would give tonight in the House chamber to a joint session of Congress. The speech had been revised many times at his behest.
The televised speech had to be perfect. His words needed to reassure a reeling nation that America would survive this latest and perhaps greatest challenge to her position in the world. Since the “event” many were calling the Rapture took place and removed several-hundred million people from the planet, America, along with every other country in the world, floundered in the unknown. A raging sea of fear tried to drown the remaining people on earth, tried to sink their hope and bury their resolve.
The world economy had plunged into shambles. Hyperinflation gripped the world. People were starving. And they were looking to him for solutions, solutions he didn’t have and solutions he didn’t think even existed.
In just a moment’s time, chaos ensued all over the world. Cemeteries gave up their dead. Planes fell
from the sky and crashed into buildings. Trains derailed into suburban areas. Convicted murderers and felons disappeared from their locked cells. CEOs disappeared in the middle of board meetings. Students in preschools and kindergartens from all over the world vanished, causing their grief-stricken parents to riot in the streets and demand answers.
It was simply a nightmare that wouldn’t end.
Some of Dixon’s top aides also vanished. Twenty-eight senators and 71 legislators from congress were gone. A good many governors vanished, as well as some of his top military leaders. Everyday since the “event” he’d appointed someone new to fill in somewhere. Special elections were going on in every state and around the world as well.
Stock markets all over the globe tanked. Inflation spiked to record levels and unemployment soared in every nation. But perhaps the biggest loss to the world was all the missing farmers. Crops ready to harvest rotted in abandoned fields. The grain shortage caused food prices to skyrocket. Food aisles in supermarkets and grocers lay empty. What available meat and vegetables and fruit there was could only be afforded by the affluent. As a result violent crime was rampant. Starving people resorted to desperate measures. The police couldn’t keep up with the caseload.
And if the world economic morass wasn’t challenging enough, Dixon had to deal with Israel’s incessant military attacks on Iran.
Until Iran handed Soussan Golzar over to Israel to be tried for her terrorist attack on the Knesset building, Israel pledged to continue their bombing missions. Unfortunately, Golzar was a national hero in Iran, and the Supreme Leader of Iran refused to extradite her to their greatest enemy. So the bombings continued. Tehran practically lay in ruins. And the Middle East had become a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.
Dixon blamed his predecessor for the continuous bombings. His predecessor sold Israel air tankers so Israel could refuel their planes in midair and reach Iran, as well as advanced radar systems and several V-22 Ospreys. What an idiot, Dixon thought to himself. A lousy 2.5 billion dollars had been added to the treasury, but all it really did was move a third world war closer to a reality. If only the Rapture or whatever it was could’ve taken place after he left office. Now all the great things he’d accomplished during his administration would be forgotten. All anyone would recall was how he weakly he handled the mess they were in now.
Dixon finished reading the proposed speech and handed it back to his director of speechwriting. “As usual you’ve written a masterpiece, Katherine. It’s perfect except for the ending. Take out the ‘God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.’ Give me something else to sign off with.”
“But Mr. President, it’s a long held tradition for the president to end a State of the Union Address with those words.”
Dixon glared at Katherine Trawley. “I think its time to start a new tradition. The American people still here are a little miffed at God right now. I don’t want to be associated with God. My approval numbers are low enough. I don’t want them to sink anymore.”
“Okay, Mr. President. I’ll change the ending.”
Dixon smiled. “Thank-you, Katherine. I knew you would understand.” Dixon watched his lead speechwriter leave the oval office in a huff, her rubicund hair matching her flushed face. And then he turned his attention to Treasury Secretary Ben Gifford. Gifford sat on one of the sofas near the fireplace. Gifford chatted on his cellphone. He seemed upbeat and jovial. I wonder what that is all about, Dixon thought.
Dixon stood up and left his desk. He sat down on the sofa opposite of Gifford. The treasury secretary noticed his presence and held up one finger. Gifford ended the call, promising the person on the other end he’d call right back in a few minutes.
“What are you so pleased about, Ben?”
Gifford smiled as he looked at the president. His wrinkled brow softened. “I think I’ve found a way to get us out of this economic hell.”
“Really, I’d like to hear your solution.”
Gifford nodded. “Do you know who Henrik Skymolt is, sir?”
“I vaguely recall the name. He’s from Sweden, right? He’s wealthy, I believe.”
Gifford uncrossed his legs. “Not only is he wealthy, Mr. President, Skymolt is considered the world’s richest person.”
“Is that who you were talking to?”
“It was, and Henrik is offering to bail the world out with his money.”
Dixon smirked. “And how is he going to do that? Even if Skymolt is the world’s richest man, it would take far more money than he has.”
“No one knows for sure how much Skymolt is worth. Some say two-hundred billion dollars. Others say the sum approaches a trillion dollars. Regardless the amount, Skymolt wants to donate his entire fortune to the world. Skymolt is offering to personally inject a stimulus into the world.”
“How did Skymolt amass such a fortune? And why would he do such an unselfish act? It sounds too good to be true.”
“I understand your skepticism, Mr. President. I was skeptical at first too. But I’ve spent several hours on the phone with Henrik, and I believe him to be sincere. But to answer your questions, Henrik acquired his wealth through real estate. When I asked him why he wanted to give away his fortune he said he wanted to rescue the world from despair and give the people of earth, hope.”
“Well if he wants to give away his money, I’m not going to stop him. But how would this work, Ben?”
“The money would be distributed through the World Bank and the IMF—International Monetary Fund.”
“Oh, I get it. Henrik wants to get paid back with interest. The money isn’t really a gift, and he’s nothing more than a creditor.”
“I assure you, Mr. President, Henrik is being forthright. And if Henrik makes good on his promises he’ll go down in the history books as the greatest philanthropist of all time. And I can’t say this strongly enough, Henrik doesn’t wish to be paid back. The money he’s giving away is a one-time gift. But there are a couple of caveats Henrik is insistent upon.”
“I knew there had to be catch,” Dixon said.
Gifford nodded nervously. “Henrik wants to institute a one-world currency. He also wants to be given an opportunity to broker a peace deal in the Middle East.”
Dixon burst out laughing. “You’re saying only one currency for the entire world to use? Who would print the currency and who would regulate it? And would it work?”
“The IMF would likely end up serving as the world’s central bank. And I’ve talked to a number of leading economists who think a one-world currency can work. What it would do is solve the exchange rate instabilities, smooth transactions, and end currency speculation. Several European nations are already on board with it.”
“Of course they are. They’re probably envisioning the euro as the one-world currency.”
Gifford shook his head. “The currency would be made up of three to four of the world’s strongest, most stable currencies: the dollar, euro, and Chinese yuan.”
“I’m sure Skymolt is heavily invested in these currencies. He’ll regain his fortune and more.”
“What does it matter if he does? We need his money now.”
“What about Russia? Don’t you think they’ll want the ruble to be included?”
Gifford shrugged. “They might. Maybe the ruble can be included in the super currency as well.”
President Dixon loosened his tie. “Ben, I just don’t know about this. It seems like we would be giving up too much.”
“I understand your misgivings, Mr. President. But if this hyperinflation continues a worldwide famine will ensue. Grain prices are shooting through the roof. I stopped at the store last night after leaving my office. I bought one loaf of white bread and paid thirty-seven dollars for it. The average American can’t afford these prices. They’re going to starve. A good many of them already are.”
“Will Skymolt still donate his money if he fails to broker a peace deal? I can’t see him succeeding at bringing Israel and the Muslim states
together. America’s has sent their best diplomats over there for decades and haven’t been able to accomplish anything.”
“You’re probably right in saying Henrik will fail at the peace deal, Mr. President. But then again, Henrik has a knack for deal making. He didn’t amass this much money without possessing keen negotiating skills. And he’s very persuasive. He also has a magnetic charisma about him.”
“Has he talked to you about how he’ll bring the violence to a halt?”
Gifford nodded. “He’ll demand Soussan Golzar be handed over to Israel for prosecution. And he’ll also demand Israel to permanently withdraw from all territories in the West Bank, Golan Heights, and East Jerusalem. He’ll call for Israeli acknowledgement of Palestine as a recognized state, with East Jerusalem as the Palestine capital. And he’ll require the Palestinian Authority to formally recognize Israel as a legitimate nation. In exchange for giving up the territories, Israel will regain control of the Temple Mount. Henrik wants to rebuild Solomon’s temple back to its original specifications using his own money. And he wants to start construction ASAP.”
“If Skymolt accomplishes all this, people will fall to their knees and worship him,” Dixon said.
“I don’t know about worshiping him, but Henrik would indeed be a popular fellow worldwide.”
“Does Skymolt realize that the Dome of the Rock would have to be torn down, as well as the Al-Aqsa mosque before the temple can be rebuilt? Blood will certainly spill if that happens, lots of it.”
Gifford stood up and started to pace. “All we have to do is play along with Skymolt’s wishes. We both know he won’t succeed at the peace deal. But if we want his money, we have to let him try. Obviously you’ll need to send the secretary of state over there during the talks. Trina will help mediate. The U.N. will also send a delegation over. All the usual players will need to go. Just play along with it, Mr. President. If all Skymolt succeeds at is getting Iran to hand over Golzar, at least Israel will stop bombing Iran. And that’s a win. Plus, the world will still get Henrik’s money regardless if he fails at the peace deal. And that’s another win.”
