Mission Trip:
Genesis and Exodus
John Theo Jr.
Mission Trip: Genesis and Exodus
by John Theo Jr.
Published by Clean Reads
www.cleanreads.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
MISSION TRIP: GENESIS AND EXODUS
Copyright © 2017 JOHN THEO JR.
ISBN 978-1-62135-3
Cover Art Designed by AM DESIGNS STUDIO
For the persecuted Church.
Contents
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Untitled
What is Truth?
-Pontius Pilot
Chapter One
West Coast of New America 2077
Doctor Kyle Faison awoke in a dark cavern to the sound of a chirping bird. Specifically, it was the sound of a nightingale, a bird he had always wanted to hear, and see, in the wild. The sound came from a data pad resting next to him on the ground. The specific noise was assigned to his wife’s messages. He touched a button and a small, six-inch holographic image of his wife appeared just over the data pad. Jane was tall with blonde hair and held in her arms their infant son, Landon. He was named after Kyle’s father and they affectionately called him Jr.
The image of Jane started to sing in her sweet voice she used in Sunday choir. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Daddy, happy birthday to you.” She paused to look at the baby before she continued. “Just in case you were in surgery or off on some emergency, I preprogrammed this message for you. Wherever you are I miss you and can’t wait to see you tonight. Love you, even for someone as old as thirty.”
The image disappeared and it was a few moments before Kyle’s eyes readjusted to the dark surroundings of the underground cavern and the reservoir a few yards away. Everything rushed back to him. The mission trip to the village on the west coast of North America in the post-apocalyptic area that used to be California. The attack from marauders. The murder of his fellow doctor and the barbaric deaths of his security detail.
His father had snuck onto the mission trip and saved Kyle and the team leader with the assault rifle he smuggled onto a no terminal weapons venture. They stayed alive long enough to rendezvous with a rescue Halo but were shot down. After a crash landing, the marauders pursued them on foot to a cave system the local villagers used as a redoubt area.
His father urged Kyle to continue on with him, but he chose to stay to help the injured villagers while his father led the marauders away. The cave system was sealed off, and the last image he had of his dad was a man torn between his duties and wanting to stay to protect his son. Landon promised Kyle he would return.
Kyle prayed that his father made it to safety, but there were so many marauders chasing him, and the wounded team leader would have slowed them both down. Kyle had confidence in his father’s ability to escape and evade, and pushed the negative thoughts from his mind. His father would need to get back to the Atoll to drop off the wounded soldier before returning with his ship to get Kyle. All of which he knew would take time. Kyle felt bad for anyone who might try to stop, or slow down, his headstrong father from returning for his son.
In the distance, torchlight flickered on the opposite side of the underground lake. The light shifted, revealing the villagers had started to move out. He needed to join them and help out where he could.
The data pad he carried had enough power for another twenty-four hours before it needed to be recharged at a docking station or reach sunlight for the solar cells to work. There was a good chance the Atoll would not be able to trace the homing beacon on the data pad this far underground, so he shut it off for the time being to conserve energy. Kyle took a food ration pill from his utility belt and chewed it. It tasted like fish broth, but it would give him both calories and energy.
A short while later, he took up a spot at the back of the line. No one spoke to him. To them, Kyle was the one who brought this plague upon their village. According to many, the marauders would steal, plunder, but rarely murder the villagers. When the mission trip team fought back, it had been like adding a match to a pool of gasoline. The battle was quick and bloody, leaving countless villagers, marauders, and most of Kyle’s group dead. He wished the mission trip had never been approved. His dad was right about staying out of the world’s business. The world hated the Christian religion and the freedoms and technology they had on the Atoll.
The group hiked for hours. The only sounds came from the sick and injured carried on makeshift cots. Every time Kyle tried to help they pushed him away. Once or twice he was allowed to assist someone who was on the verge of death with a bullet wound. Each time he saved a life he was not thanked or rewarded with anything other than the tribe’s continued blank stares.
The cavern and underground lake gave way to a narrow tunnel. Musty smells caused most to cough. Kyle took readings with his data pad and confirmed the oxygen levels were poor but breathable.
The tunnel opened back into another cavern where the air soon cleared up. In this area, stalagmites reached up from the ground to touch stalactites hanging from the tall cave ceiling. There was no underground lake here, only dripping water leading to a small pool a few feet deep. The group stopped for the night. People started to make crude beds out of blankets and scrap pieces of clothing. Torches were staked into the sandy ground, and small fires were lit using dried moss picked up along the hike. The cavern breeze carried the smoke back the way they’d come. Clearly they had camped in this area before and knew this was a safe place to build fires. The tribe’s leader, a young woman who would be considered beautiful had she taken a shower or combed her shoulder-length brown hair, approached Kyle. He rose to meet her. They both started to walk past the crowd, neither one talking.
She spoke first. “The tribe wants me to kill you or turn you over to the enemy when we leave the confines of this space.”
Kyle collected himself before he spoke. “And you?”
She paused. “I know you meant to help us, and you did not cause these men to kill.”
“My entire unit was killed as well.”
“I did find joy in seeing someone fight back against them. The marauders are evil.” She closed her tunic around her neck as
if to ward off a cold breeze. “They have taken more than our food in the past. I wish them all death.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said.
“We may never be able to go back to our village.” She tucked a matted piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you going to stay and help us rebuild somewhere new?”
“I’m going to stay and help, but I want to take you all from here. I come from a place that can provide you with safety, food, and clean water.”
She stopped walking. “Where is this place?”
“It’s an island far out on the ocean.”
“You can take all of us?”
“Yes.” Even in the dim light Kyle could see her eyes tear up.
“Please don’t give me, or my people, false hope, doctor.”
“I promise I will do everything I can.” They continued on beyond the flicker of torches. Kyle activated the light on his data pad, which lit the pathway in front of them like it was midday.
“Amazing,” she said, reaching out to touch the hand holding the device.
Not comfortable with the interaction, he pulled his arm away. “Where do these caverns lead to?”
“They exit into a valley which is close to a populated area. We will need to leave at night and backtrack toward the coast.”
“If you can get us outside where my data pad’s signal can be picked up, I’ll send a message to get us home from there,” he added.
“Home,” she repeated, a slight smile forming on her face.
The conversation, and the walk, led them in a circle back to the cavern. Many of the torches had been extinguished, and the dried moss fires were now only a smolder.
Before they parted the woman said, “They call me Star.”
“I’m Kyle,” he said.
“Do you have a mate?”
“I do.” The woman exhaled as if disappointed. “What about you, Star?”
“No one will have me. I have been—” She stopped herself. “I have the tribe to look after.”
“Don’t despair. There’s hope in Christ.”
“Who?”
Kyle stopped walking. Clarity rushed upon him like a beacon in the darkened cavern. Everything made sense now. “He’s the one who sent me to find you.”
Kyle took Star over to the edge of the small pool of water. He probed her with questions on how she thought the world came into existence and what she thought happened when someone died. Kyle gleaned from her a few legends she heard growing up about a flood and someone coming back from the dead. There were no names or dates attached to the stories though.
Others came over, mostly children and teens who were curious. Each time Kyle would backtrack on his story to bring them up to speed. He explained that there was a world beyond what people could see and touch, and there was someone who created it. To complicate matters, no one in the tribe seemed to be literate. Star kept interrupting him with questions. Each time she seemed more excited with his answers.
“What do you mean when you say God can make me whole again? He can remove my scars?” She placed a hand over her belly when she said this.
“Well, yes and no,” Kyle said. “He can make you whole up here—” He pointed to her head, “—and here.” He pointed to her heart. “Of course, he could also heal your body, but I may be able to do that if I can get you home.”
“Can he remove my memories and my night terrors?”
Kyle realized she was asking for her innocence back. He simply responded with the truth. “He can make you whole again, where you can be at peace and find rest.”
Kyle spoke for hours answering questions people posed as to why a man would die for another person they never met. The most questions came when he told them there was life beyond this world. “Death is only the beginning,” he said.
In the end, a dozen people gave themselves over to Christ. Before the group broke up, Kyle brought them over to the small pool of water. It was just big enough for an adult. One by one he baptized them in the cool water. As the fires in the makeshift underground camp dwindled that night, a spark of hope was rekindled.
Chapter Two
New York 2040
At fifty-eight, Josiah Saunders had just closed the biggest deal in his career, making him the second trillionaire on the planet. Many politicians had been paid off and many laws broken, but the deal was done. All great men had to bend the rules. His patents and software had revolutionized the world of social media and virtual gaming. These billions were then parlayed into developing proprietary security software for the cloud. This technology opened the door for defense contracts and more money than he could ever spend.
The money was never the motivation. It was a tool that allowed him to pursue more ideas. There were tests buried in his video games which had military applications. One of which was to see how far artificial intelligence could go before people panicked, and metrics to see how far people would let their quality of life degrade before an uprising occurred. It was all about harvesting data.
He stood in his penthouse bathroom watching the steam from the hot water fog up the mirror. Little by little he could see his face starting to fade. He wiped the mirror to stare at himself again. Many online polls had voted him best looking, or most eligible bachelor, over the years. Some of them he didn't even pay for. His hair was starting to thin, and he had a few wrinkles on his brow that were never there before. Regardless, he could fix those with surgery.
The vitamins, diet, and exercise regime had kept his body fat down to four percent. His concierge doctor had picked up on the spot that tested positive for skin cancer and addressed it. The next PET scan would pick up any other irregularities and he would address those as needed. He had the best security in the world, and his Manhattan building was constructed like a bunker, able to withstand bacterial, biological, and nuclear fallout. He was both safe and secure.
A female voice called out from the living room, “I’m leaving JS.”
He didn’t acknowledge Carolyn leaving. He never did. Although he had known countless women over the years, she was the closest relationship he ever had with a female and the one he chose to celebrate his milestone deal with that night. For a moment he wondered if he would feel different about Carolyn were she not married. He splashed water on his face as if to wash the thought away. Girlfriends and wives were for those who needed something they couldn’t find on their own. His employees’ legacy could be their spouses and children, but his legacy would be to change the world. Heck, he already had.
The next morning Josiah awoke, the memory of the nightmare fled from his consciousness. It was always the same memory from his childhood. Truck lights, a crash, screams from his parents, someone choking on their own blood, and then silence.
“Open daylight,” he said.
The tinted, bulletproof glass that surrounded his bedroom on three sides faded into clear windows, revealing the grey predawn skyline of New York City. The lights of the superstructures held appeal for some people. Romantic poets likened New York to a metal forest strewn with electric fireflies, but he held a pragmatic view. It was a bustling city filled with poor, homeless, crime, and corruption. A dirty place whose streets were to be avoided, not embraced. But it was also a necessary entry point for entrepreneurs and business moguls.
After drinking a protein-infused vitamin shake, he hit the microphone button next to his bed. “Computer, find Lewis and tell him to get up here.”
Five seconds later, Lewis’ rough voice almost shouted through the microphone, “On my way.”
The bedroom's walk-in closet appeared to be a mirror image of a storefront from Fifth Avenue. Handmade suits and dress shirts lined one side. In the middle were rows of polished expensive Italian leather shoes. On the opposite wall hung one pair of jeans and three pairs of hand-tailored sweats and a thin Kevlar vest he sometimes wore under his suit for the few times he left the building. He picked a suit off the rack, and the automatic conveyer belt moved the remaining suits down to fill in the gap.
&n
bsp; By the time he exited into the living room, Lewis was standing by the door. Lewis was short, chubby, but always dressed in an expensive suit. Lewis was his lawyer and second in command. The man had a temper and made most of his judgments on emotion, but he was smart. Under Lewis’ arm was a tablet. Every one of his employees had to carry tablets. Staff had been fired for showing up to meetings without a way to write down notes Josiah gave out.
Josiah pointed to the tablet in his lawyer's hand. “What's Gate's stock up to?”
“Still flat since they got that wave of bad PR. Market opens in an hour though, so we’ll see.”
Josiah never acknowledged his adversaries’ companies. He spoke of them by their CEO's names. It was never just business. It was always a personal battle between men, not companies. “Good. How's our man on the inside doing?”
“He thinks it's time to get out. The information he leaked to us six months ago has resurfaced, and he fears it could be traced back to him.”
“Give him another hundred grand and tell him to stick around for one more week before he disappears.”
“Roger that.”
They entered Josiah’s private elevator which took them down one flight to the top floor of Sector One's boardroom and executive offices. The two men entered the foyer, and Josiah's twenty-three-year-old receptionist stood up from behind her mahogany desk to hand him a folder. Her skirt barely reached her thighs.
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