by Mark Goodwin
CHAPTER 16
And the sixth angel sounded, and I heard a voice from the four horns of the golden altar which is before God, Saying to the sixth angel which had the trumpet, Loose the four angels which are bound in the great river Euphrates. And the four angels were loosed, which were prepared for an hour, and a day, and a month, and a year, for to slay the third part of men. And the number of the army of the horsemen were two hundred thousand thousand: and I heard the number of them. And thus I saw the horses in the vision, and them that sat on them, having breastplates of fire, and of jacinth, and brimstone: and the heads of the horses were as the heads of lions; and out of their mouths issued fire and smoke and brimstone. By these three was the third part of men killed, by the fire, and by the smoke, and by the brimstone, which issued out of their mouths.
Revelation 9:13-18
At first light on Saturday, Everett woke Courtney. “The street is pretty calm outside. I think this is our window to get out.”
“I just went to sleep.” Her eyes were swollen.
“I know, I didn’t get much rest either with all the gunfire and yelling.”
Everett wrapped a shemagh around his neck and handed one to Courtney. “You should cover your head with this.”
“No word from Ali about getting us some hijabs?” Courtney folded the middle eastern cloth into a triangle and placed it over her head like a giant handkerchief.
“No. Sadat owns the clothing store next to the café, but evidently he only sells westernized clothing.”
“Westernized. Ha!” Courtney tucked her backup pistol in her waistband. “That’s a stretch. I saw the mannequins in the window. It’s all like hooker clothing from the late nineties.”
Everett nudged Sarah and handed her a shemagh. “We’ve gotta go.”
She sat up on the couch. “Did the natives finally calm down?”
“They’re probably trying to get some sleep.” Everett laced up his boots and checked the magazine well of his rifle to double check that it was loaded. He watched the street below while he waited for the girls to get ready. Burned out vehicles, smoldering heaps of tar and ash that had been burning tires only hours earlier, littered the roadway and left soot marks on the surrounding buildings.
“Do you have the silver you got from Sadat?” Courtney pulled the shemagh up around her face.
Everett patted the pockets of his cargo pants. “Got it.”
“I’m ready to go.” Courtney slung her duffle over one shoulder, and her rifle over the other.
Sarah adjusted the straps of her duffle bag and her backpack. She pulled her shemagh down to cover her eyebrows and picked up her rifle. “Me, too.”
“Let’s move as quietly as possible.” Everett opened the door and led the way down the hall and to the stairwell.
Ali met them on the third floor carrying a small shoulder bag. “Mr. Everett.”
“Ali, what’s going on?”
“My truck. The Martyrs of the Caliphate took it to make a car bomb. They are attacking the port at Mersin. But it could have been worse.”
“MOC stole your vehicle to make a bomb. How could it have been worse, Ali?” Courtney followed Everett as he continued to the first floor.
“They wanted me to volunteer to drive it.”
“That would have been worse.” Sarah stayed close behind Courtney.
“Anyway, can you give me ride to my cousin in Antakya? It is Shia territory. More safe.”
Everett’s eyes widened. “Ali, that’s a big favor to ask. We’re not a taxi service.”
“It is on your way to Jerusalem. I help you get out of Tarsus. I know the best road.”
“Can’t Sadat help you get to your cousins?”
“Sadat leave last night. He go to his villa on the Black Sea. He invite me to come, but I don’t go because I think I will go to my cousin in Antakya.” Ali pulled out one of the diamonds Everett had given him for the introduction to Sadat. “I pay you.”
Everett opened the back door to the alley. He saw two young men with AK-47s enter a door at the end of the alley. He slowly closed the door and looked at Ali. In a low voice, Everett said, “Keep your diamond. Just get us to Antakya safely.”
“Yes, I will do it.”
“And when we get there you’ve got to get us food, lodging, and find out as much information as you can about the best route for us to take to Jerusalem.”
“I do all these things.” Ali nodded.
“Do you have a weapon?”
Ali lifted his shirt, revealing the handle of what looked like an antique1911.
“Does it work?”
“Oh, yes. Very good gun. I buy from Sadat.”
Everett pressed his lips together. “I guess those are still around for a reason. Be ready to use it if we get in trouble.”
Ali walked past Everett. “I lead the way to the vehicle. I look around the corner. If someone is there, I tell you. Maybe I don’t stand out so much as crazy Americans.”
Courtney pulled her shemagh down so she could talk. “You can still tell?”
Ali smiled revealing his big teeth. “Everybody can still tell.”
Everett gave Ali a five-yard lead, then led the girls out quietly. He waited for Ali to clear the corner of the alley. Ali waved for them to follow him quickly. The team sprinted to the Tiguan.
“Thank you, Jesus!” Courtney tossed her duffle and her pack into the rear of the Volkswagen.
Sarah placed her bag in the rear with Courtney’s, but took her duffle bag to the back seat with her and closed the door. Everett stowed his belongings, gently closed the rear hatch, and took the driver’s seat. Ali rode shotgun, placing his small bag in the floorboard of the passenger’s seat.
“Where to?” Everett started the engine and put the vehicle in gear.
“That way!” Ali pointed to the street on the left side of the parking lot.
Everett remained in a hyper-aware state all the way through town. He followed Ali’s directions, and they quickly escaped Tarsus.
Everett began to breathe a little easier. “Good job, Ali.”
Ali still looked tense. “Don’t count the chicken when he is in the eggs.”
Perplexed by the statement, Everett glanced over at Ali curiously.
From the back seat, Sarah translated. “You mean, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”
“Forget about the chicken.” Ali waved his hand. “I mean we still must go through Adana. It is big city with many MOC fighters. Do not celebrate now.”
The chicken is still in the eggs, Everett thought. “How far?”
“Fifty kilometer.”
“No way around it?”
Ali shook his head adamantly. “No. This best way.”
Thirty minutes later, Everett began to notice more buildings lining the highway. Soon afterward, they were in a densely-built metropolitan area.
Ali pointed. “Roadblock!”
“Technicals,” Sarah said from the back.
Ali seemed not to understand. He turned to the back. “Technical?”
“That’s what the US military called civilian vehicles which had been modified for the battlefield.” She pointed ahead. “Both of those Toyota pickups have fifty calibers mounted in the back. If we have to engage, those will be our biggest problem. I’ll get two rockets ready to fire.”
“They’re flying black flags. Looks like ISIS,” Courtney said as they slowed down.
“It is the black flag of MOC,” Ali clarified. “But don’t shoot. I can get us past the checkpoint.”
“Any chance we can just turn around and make a run for it?” Everett asked.
“No. I will talk to them. We will get through.”
“Don’t sell us out, Ali. I’ll kill you first.” Everett gave Ali a serious look to let him know he wasn’t kidding.
“Don’t worry.”
Everett’s heart thumped in his chest. He pulled up slowly to the checkpoint.
Ali rolled down the window. “Allahu akbar.”
“Allahu akbar,” the MOC fighter replied. The two conversed shortly and Ali held out his right hand, turning it from side to side.
Ali turned to Everett. “Flip your wrist.”
Everett held out his hand and flicked his wrist, in the way he’d seen so many people do to activate their Mark. Ali instructed the girls to do the same.
The fighter addressed Everett directly in Arabic.
“What did he say?”
Ali translated, “He said my enemy’s enemy is my friend.”
Everett wasn’t so sure about all of that, but he smiled just the same.
The man waved the first Toyota out of the way, and Everett pulled through slowly.
“Good job, Ali!” Courtney said.
Sarah leaned forward. “What did you tell him?”
“I tell him you are bring weapons from America to Aleppo for the Caliphate. I say you work for Sheik Tariq. The Sheik is big arms dealer. He supply much weapons to Caliph Marwan Bakr.”
“And how did you know this story would check out?” Courtney asked.
“Sadat friends with Sheik.”
“Of course he is,” Sarah stated matter-of-factly.
“Dragon went back online last night.” Everett glanced at Ali. “How did you know our Marks wouldn’t activate when we flicked our wrists?”
“You have bad counterfeit.” Ali pointed to Everett’s hand. “Also, I know you are Christian. We have some in Tarsus, but they all go in the disappearance.”
“All of them?” Everett knew that wasn’t the case in America.
Ali simply nodded. “All.”
Everett figured it was much more difficult to identify as a Christian in this part of the world. Most of the fakes were likely winnowed out by some form of persecution. “Why didn’t your Mark activate?”
“The Sunni in Tarsus say don’t take it. They don’t believe Luz is from Allah.”
Everett kept his eyes on the highway. “I thought you said you were Shia? Isn’t that why you’re going to Antakya?”
“No. I say Antakya is Shia. I am not really like Sunni or Shia. I am survivor.”
“But you’re Muslim, right?” Everett quizzed.
“I believe Islam, but I think Sadat have a good life. He don’t care about these things at all.”
“What do you know about Jesus?”
“He is prophet, like Mohamed. It is the same for me.”
Everett smiled. “Not quite. Mohamed’s youngest wife, Aisha, was six when he married her. If Jesus would have been a child molester, I promise you, I would not be a Christian.”
Ali listened but said nothing.
“Another big difference, Muhammad died, without naming a successor, I might add. Which is the reason the Shia and Sunni can’t seem to get along.”
“So what? Jesus die also.”
“Yes, but he came back to life.”
“Anybody can say this thing. I can say Muhammad come back to life. You weren’t there. You don’t know.”
“I wasn’t there, but we’ve got plenty of historical documents about how the apostles died. All of them were executed because they would not cease and desist telling people that Jesus was the Messiah and that he rose from the dead. I mentioned Paul of Tarsus when we first met. He was a religious leader of the Jews. He persecuted the Christians until he met the risen Jesus. Then, he gave up his power and position to be persecuted and ultimately beheaded for his faith.”
“Yeah, so? The suicide bombers of MOC give up their life for religion.”
“But that’s because they are deceived. If the resurrection of Jesus was a charade, Paul and the apostles would have been the ones perpetrating the lie. Would you sacrifice your life for something you knew to be a falsehood, or would you just admit it wasn’t true so you could live another day?”
Ali looked at Everett without answering, then turned away to the passenger’s window, staring silently for the next several miles.
Everett said, “You used the name Caliph Marwan Bakr. Any relation to Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the former leader of ISIS?”
“Yes. Marwan is the nephew. MOC is basically same thing like ISIS. Is all about have Islamic caliphate.”
Everett turned on the radio and scanned the stations, looking for an English GRBN station. He finally found one.
The female reporter spoke with a British accent. “Details continue to come in about additional suicide bombings. The total count for today currently stands at 148. Multiple bombings have occurred in the major cities of Europe, including London, Rome, Paris, Brussels, Prague, Munich, Sarajevo, Zurich, Athens, as well as many, many other cities. Never have so many suicide attacks been reported in a single day. It is a sad day. His Majesty has worked so hard to bring about peace on this tormented planet. And we’ve had so much suffering to endure from earthquakes, tsunamis, poisoned water, comets, food shortages, and financial calamities, it is simply unconscionable how human beings can still find reason to hurt each other in such a crude and barbaric manner.
“It is days like today that I find it so difficult to do my duty as a journalist.
“For those of you just tuning in, the massive wave of bombings appears to be made up primarily of single individuals wearing explosive suicide vests targeted at markets, Global Republic Peacekeeping stations, and other government facilities. A few have been larger explosions caused by car bombs in densely populated areas.
“Preliminary scans are showing extremely high levels of radiation near detonation sites in Paris, London, and Munich. Authorities are urging people who do not live in those cities to stay away, as the threat of radiation poisoning is serious.
“Furthermore, the Global Republic is recommending that all citizens shelter in place. Do not leave your homes unless it is absolutely necessary. A dusk-to-dawn curfew will be going into effect this evening across all territories of the Global Republic. Violators will be subject to being detained.”
Everett glanced over at Ali. “A lieutenant colonel I spoke with in America said he estimates about half of the Sunni Muslims were wiped out in the plagues or disasters. Does that sound right to you?”
Ali raised his shoulders. “If you counting the children who disappeared, half is probably about right for Tarsus, Mersin, and Adana. But I don’t know about other area.”
Everett kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, but his mind was spinning. “Prior to the disappearances, the global Sunni population was one and a half billion, so roughly 750 million remain. Half of them are men, so 375 million, and most are capable of wearing a suicide vest if they so choose. What percentage of Sunni do you think are radicalized?”
Ali looked at Everett. “Before, or are you talk about now that the Kaaba in Mecca and the Dome of the Rock have been desecrated?”
“Current estimate.”
“Everybody, man. Maybe many Sunni are like me. Don’t really care. But they don’t say this. Now that Luz desecrate the writing on the Dome of the Rock, make himself to be Allah, and make Pope more high than Muhammad, everybody must say they are for jihad. And don’t think about woman or man. Woman carry AK, drive car bomb, wear suicide vest, everything man do. Already many Martyrs of the Caliphate are woman, or are wives of Martyr who want to be in jihad. Why you ask this?”
Everett glanced up at the rearview. “Courtney, can you dig my Bible out of my duffle?”
“I’ve already got it. Thought I might read a little on the way.”
“Can you flip to Revelation 9 and let Ali read it?”
Seconds later, she passed the small book up to Ali.
Ali slowly read the chapter. “Ah, okay the comet, the locust. Somebody wrote this book last week, after already happened these things.”
“Keep reading.”
Ali continued. “I don’t know what I am reading.”
“The 200-million-man army.”
“What about it?”
“What are their breastplates made of?”
Ali studied the chapter. Finally, he read, “breastplate
s of fire, and of jacinth, and brimstone: and the heads of the horses were as the heads of lions; and out of their mouths issued fire and smoke and brimstone. By these three was the third part of men killed, by the fire, and by the smoke, and by the brimstone.” Ali looked up. “What is this? It sounds like bad dreams.”
Everett glanced over. “Breastplates of fire and brimstone? That sounds like a suicide vest to me. And 200 million, that sounds like a fairly accurate number of radicalized MOC martyrs.”
Ali carefully examined the passage. He murmured, “Third part of men killed, by the fire, and by the smoke.”
Everett nodded. “That would be pretty easy to do, especially if a significant amount of the attacks are dirty bombs. The radiation is mixed in with the smoke. Otherwise, smoke is pretty harmless unless you die of inhalation. It’d be pretty hard for a third of mankind to die of smoke inhalation.”
“Why would he say the power is in their mouth and their tails?” Ali continued looking at the Bible.
Sarah spoke from the back. “The horses spit fire out of their mouths. A technical with a fifty cal or an anti-aircraft gun would look like it’s spitting fire to someone 2,000 years ago. An AK-47 might look like a tail.”
Courtney added. “And what does every MOC fighter yell when he detonates his vest?”
“Allahu Akbar.” Ali looked up.
“John, the guy writing this, might have thought that they were giving a command for the vest, or in his words, the breastplate to explode. To him, it’d seem like their power was in their mouths to trigger the bombs.”
Ali flipped to the front of the Bible. “1611. No way this book was written more than 400 years ago.”
“That’s when this edition was translated. The section you’re reading was written around 96 AD.” Everett smiled.
CHAPTER 17
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.
2 Corinthians 4:8-9
