The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  He had taken the Bible, not really knowing what to say. He tried to find the words when she spoke again.

  “But you can’t keep it,” she said, smiling. “Calvin’s going to need that back when he wakes up.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was all he could muster. He hadn’t known why, but the whole thing had overwhelmed him at the time. And now here he was, thumbing through the pages again.

  He had been reading all night and hadn’t stopped until Jennings and the others had come to see him. And even though he had grown up going to church, it had never really made any sense to him. It was just something that you did on Sunday. Go to church, then go to lunch afterward, then go home and watch whatever game was on the television until everyone fell asleep on the couch or their favorite chair. But this was different. He’d never spent time reading a Bible. He hadn’t even known where to start, but Calvin had lots of notes in the margins and tons of passages highlighted. He hadn’t realized how long he had been sitting there reading until he felt his eyes burning and had looked at the clock. And for the first time, he had begun to understand some of the things that that preacher had been talking about all those years.

  He checked his watch again. He had fifteen minutes to get downstairs. The speech was not something he was looking forward to, but it was necessary. He couldn’t allow the Chinese to just openly kill American citizens. Not if, by doing what they asked, he could spare them. He closed the Bible and grabbed his suit coat.

  Downstairs the command center had been set up. Minister Li’s instructions were clear and simple. The Chinese had provided a satellite link for them to connect to. The signal was also connected to the satellite feed that would broadcast the speech to the citizens in the East.

  He checked his notes and was led to the podium, where one of the guys wired him with the mic. He looked into the camera and waited for the red light. When it flashed on, he began.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with a heavy heart I address you today. Our country has suffered a great blow. For those of you who have yet to find your way to the eastern states, please hear me. General Chin and the People’s Republic of China have taken control of everything west of the Appalachian Mountains. They have claimed the entire territory as sovereign Chinese soil. As of now, we have no choice but to concede this defeat.

  “I have spoken with General Chin. He has assured me that he wants no more violence. Nor do we. But I must tell you that those of you who continue to resist this occupation with violence and insurgence are inciting more violence. The Chinese do not wish to harm you. However, if you continue on this path, they have made it clear that they will continue to destroy the great cities of the Midwest and those who stand in their way, until you stop. Many more innocent people will die as a result of your actions. Please, please, stop. If you can somehow make your way to the eastern states, do so. We will welcome you in safely. But if you choose to stay, you must obey them.

  “Now, I want everyone to listen to me. This country has been a great nation and a friend to many others for a long time. But recently we have become an enemy to ourselves. We’ve allowed ourselves over the years to become something that our forefathers never intended us to become. The day President Grant was shot, he was going to speak to us all about this. At the time, I didn’t see it. But I do now. And I would like you all to hear what I believe he was going to say. You see, this country was founded upon a belief system. That belief system was that all of us were endowed with certain rights. And those rights were given to us by God. And our forefathers believed that with every ounce of their beings.

  “Over the years, we have, much like the Israelites from the Old Testament often did, allowed ourselves to move away from God, putting our faith and trust in many things. And in doing so, we have abandoned the very principles that once made America great. And that is our fear and reverence for God.”

  The light on the camera flickered.

  “Excuse me,” President Walker said into the camera. He looked to the technician. “Is everything okay?”

  “The Chinese have cut the feed to their satellite,” the technician said. “But you’re still live on ours.”

  He nodded and continued. “Listen, friends. I have no idea what lies ahead for us as a nation right now. But I can tell you this: President Grant knew that we were headed for troubled waters. To some degree, I even think he saw this coming. And he was going to warn us. Well, it’s too late for a warning now. The damage has been done. But it is not too late for hope. I do not believe that God has brought us here just to leave us in this condition. But I’ve also recently learned that each time that the Israelites allowed themselves to be led astray, they humbled themselves before God, and He restored them. Now I’m not saying that if we do that, God will indeed restore our nation to what she once was. But I do know that if we don’t, He will not.

  “I find it ironic that—on our own Independence Day—we were shown how much we actually needed to be dependent. I also find it ironic that it was in this very month, September, so many years ago, when the pilgrims landed on a strange new land that would become our nation. A nation birthed out of thirteen colonies founded on Christian principles and values. And now here we are. After generations of prominence and greatness. Fallen. And now, having come through the devastation, after getting our legs back under us, we find ourselves once again back in the thirteen where we started. It’s as if God is showing us the contrast from what we once were, to what we have become.

  “Perhaps this is His way of taking us back, to remind us. To remind us of how we came to be. Back when we fled tyranny because we wanted to worship Him, not remove Him from every aspect of our lives … from our government. Friends, we have a choice to make today. Will we return to what made us great? Or will we continue down the road that has left us where we sit now?

  “Let us be reminded today of how He has brought us all here, to this place, in this time. And let us humble ourselves before Him, in hopes that He may grant us a great nation once again. God bless you all, and may God bless, once again, the United States of America.”

  EPILOGUE

  Keene could barely keep his head up as the two guards dragged him back to his cell. He had been with the interrogators again. It was the fourth time this week. He didn’t know how much more his body could take. This had been going on for two months now. He didn’t even know what the point was. They didn’t want information from him. That was obvious. All they ever did was beat him and scream at him. It really was just plain old torture. No reason, other than to make him suffer.

  It was all because of Chin. During the time that Chin was with the MSS, Keene had stumbled across him. Chin and his goons had taken hostage a US ambassador in South Korea and were trying to get military information out of him. Keene and his team had been sent in to retrieve the ambassador. Though they had secured the ambassador and taken out all of Chin’s men, Chin had gotten away. Keene had never forgotten the man. And now Keene was his prisoner.

  The guards opened the door to his cell and threw him in. He landed on his side on the hard concrete. A fresh batch of blood rose up from his stomach as he spat it out. He still didn’t know where it came from. As much as they had beaten him these last few weeks, he couldn’t believe he still had any blood left to bleed. And just when he thought he’d never see the outside of these walls again, Chin had him brought upstairs to a field two days ago, where there were at least five hundred other men being held captive. They had sat him down in front of all of the other men. And then they did the unthinkable. They picked four of them and executed them. He knew right then that that wouldn’t be all. He had tried to stop the other men from getting up, but he was just too weak. And so he watched Chin’s men shoot them, too.

  He had no idea what time it was anymore. His internal clock had stopped working three days ago. He just didn’t have the strength or the energy to fight back. He told them, each time when they started the beatings, that they wouldn’t break him. But that was a lie. He had broken abou
t the same time his internal clock stopped working. He was just so beaten up and exhausted that he didn’t have the energy to cry out or beg them to stop.

  He assumed it was getting onto nighttime because he felt the dampness begin to set in on the floor. He tried to think back to even just a few weeks ago, when he and Megan and Boz were all together, trying to figure out what this whole thing about the Prophet was about. He wished he could see them. He wished he could tell Boz that he’d remembered everything that Boz had said to him. That what Boz said had made him think.

  Suddenly all of the emotions that he’d been trying to hold back finally came to the surface. He pulled himself into a ball and began to rock back and forth. He felt the first tear run down his cheek since losing his wife. And then another. And then it was as if everything inside of him let loose. He wrapped his arms around his cold, mostly naked body and began to weep.

  He stayed like that for at least five minutes before he was able to get control of himself. Finally he wiped his eyes and found the strength to sit up onto his knees. He placed his elbows on the thin mattress that they had given him to sleep on and folded his hands.

  “God,” he said, “I don’t know what You want from me. And I know I’ve been angry with You for many things, and I’m sorry. I had no right to be angry with You. I heard everything Boz said. And I’m trying to believe it. I’m so sorry I’ve pushed You away. Please forgive me. I’m not asking You to get me out of here. But I can’t take them beating me like this anymore. I have nothing left to give. Please, make it stop. Please just let me die. Please, Jesus, forgive me for my sins and let me come home to You. Just make it stop.”

  He felt his arms give out as his head fell to the mattress. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

  They usually let him sleep for four or five hours. Just long enough for him to regain some strength. But this was too early. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour. But even though he couldn’t see the gate, because of his swollen eyes, he could hear it. And it was opening. They were coming for him again.

  He felt the hand on his shoulder. But it was different this time. The touch was gentle. Not forceful. He raised his head to try and make out the figure that was standing before him.

  “Mr. Keene!” the man whispered.

  “Who are you?” he said in a cracked voice.

  “Here, drink this,” the man said, handing him a bottle of water.

  He took it slowly at first then began to let it flow freely over his mouth. It was the first real drink of water he’d had in days. Only sips had been allowed before. He poured some over his eyes to wash away some of the dried, crusted blood.

  “Hurry,” the man said. “We don’t have much time.”

  Keene still couldn’t make him out, though he looked somewhat familiar. “Who are you?” he said again.

  “God has heard your prayer,” he said. “I’ve come to take you home.”

  The man put his arm under his shoulder and lifted him to his feet.

  “Hurry,” he said again. “We haven’t been given much time to get out of here. And you have much to do.”

  “Wait,” Keene said. He tried to look at him. “I know you. How did you get in here?”

  The Prophet smiled. “I told you I’d find you when the time was right.”

  ROBBIE CHEUVRONT is the worship/associate pastor and an elder of The Journey Church in Lebanon, Tennessee, and cofounder of C&R Ministries with Erik Reed. He is also a songwriter and formerly toured with BNA recording artists, Lonestar. Robbie is married to Tiffany and has two children, Cason and Hadyn, and is currently pursuing a theology degree.

  ERIK REED is the lead pastor and an elder of The Journey Church in Lebanon, Tennessee. He graduated from Western Kentucky University with a BA in Religious Studies. He also graduated with his MDiv from Southern Seminary. Erik is married to Katrina, with two children, Kaleb and Kaleigh.

  SHAWN ALLEN is the teaching pastor of the Hartsville campus and an elder of The Journey Church. He is married and has two dogs, Charlie and Pepper. Shawn is a graduate of Bethel University and is currently enrolled at Southern Seminary.

  Robbie Would Like to Thank:

  First and foremost, my heavenly Father. God, you are so gracious to me. I have so much to be thankful for. Your grace and Your mercy toward me are undeserved, and I am so humbled before You. You have blessed me beyond words, and I praise You for who You are. You are my God and King. I love You and serve You with all that I am.

  Next, I would like to thank my incredible wife, Tiffany. Every day with you shows me just how much God has blessed me. I thank Him that He would choose you for me. I would be lost without you. I love you with all my heart. You are an amazing woman, mother, and wife. I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never looking back. I cherish you with all that I am.

  To my children, Cason and Hadyn: Daddy loves you! You two make me laugh when the days are long and stressful. I pray that you would live your lives for Christ and never stray from His side. He is all you will ever need. Run to Him for EVERYTHING. I love you!

  Erik Would Like to Thank:

  There are so many people to thank for the love, patience, friendship, and joy they bring into my life. However, I do want to especially highlight one person in this book who has made a lasting impact on me. That is my grandmother, Dorothy Reed. My grandmother and her late husband, Earnest Reed (my grandfather), grew up in an era when America faced some enormous challenges. They experienced the Great Depression and WWII. They saw an America that had no fear of discussing God and even recognized its deep need for Him. But they also witnessed the decline and near disappearance of this. Yet in spite of the culture’s shift and change, they remained steadfast. My grandfather passed away when I was five years old, and I never got to know him that well. But my grandmother tells us about him, still. She loves Jesus and has taught her children and grandchildren what it looks like to love Jesus, too. My thank-you is to her for her patience, love, and unwavering commitment to pray for her family, lead by example, and live to make much of Jesus Christ. I love you Gan-Gan.

  Robbie, Erik, and Shawn Would Like to Thank:

  Our publisher, Barbour Books: You guys are incredible. That you would take a chance on some unknown goofballs like us is beyond anything we could have imagined. Thank you for being patient with us these last couple years, as we have tried to learn the ins and outs of your world. Telling a story is easy. What you all do is … well, let’s just say we’re glad we have you! Thank you for everything you all do.

  To Jamie Chavez, our editor: Jamie, you are a disturbingly talented woman! Your work speaks for itself. We are honored to have worked with you and hope to do so again in the future. We love your straightforwardness. We love that you see any project that you work on as your own. Thank you for everything.

  To our church: Journey Church, we love you all so much. You all make being in ministry so much fun. You are such an unselfish group of people. You serve tirelessly to see the Kingdom moved forward. God has blessed us to have you as our church. We are humbled to be in covenant with you as your pastors. Let us always stay focused on Christ, moving forward with the Gospel and forward as a church.

  There is a long list of people that help us do everything that we do. Our church, our families, and our lives would not be what they are without you all. Thank you, Kendria Spicer, our admin assistant at The Journey. Thank you to our fellow Elders; it is a blessing to serve along side such Godly men. Finally, to all our Journey volunteers and ministry leaders, and our friends: Thank you all for being in our lives. We thank God for you every day. We love you all!

  If you enjoyed The 13: Fall,

  be sure to read the gripping follow-up novel—The 13: Stand.

  Coming Fall 2013

  Here’s a sneak peak …

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  9:40 p.m.

  The Room was just like any other room: adequately furnished, old hardwood floors that had scuff marks on them from all the years of t
ables and chairs being scooted across their surfaces, and a few unassuming paintings hanging slightly crooked on each wall in order to give the room a more … homey feel. An antique desk stood against one wall with an Aresline Xten chair—the world’s most expensive office chair. Opposite the desk stood two other chairs—for guests—which could have been bought from Walmart. The old man didn’t know. Nor did he care. His second wife had bought them. He would never think of sitting his old frame down in anything but the Aresline. The Room, as it was called, was the perfect place for this meeting. And for one reason. One that only those who had been there were aware of. Its location. The old man checked once more to make sure he had everything he needed and then went back up the stairs to the main house.

  The main house sat just off Durant Road, a few miles out of downtown; an old, fully restored Civil War farmhouse sitting back, nestled in the tall pines. Unless someone knew exactly where it was, they would probably just miss the little, narrow dirt road that led the three quarters of a mile through the wooded area leading to the house. The old man had bought the house twenty-five years earlier for his third wife. She had thought it cute and a good place for her daughter to stay as she finished nursing school. He hadn’t cared much for the house itself, but the grounds behind it were perfect for the project he had been planning. And though the project was going to cost close to a quarter of a billion dollars, he didn’t care. He had the money. Old money. The kind that came at the expense of hundreds of thousands of unsuspecting Americans. Tobacco.

  The old man had since divorced his third wife. And his fourth. His current wife—wife number five—had extended family all over the country. So now the house was used for visiting friends and family. But, for the most part, it remained empty. And that was a good thing. Because it allowed the old man to conduct his more sketchy business away from inquiring minds. Because behind the house, buried fifty meters below the surface, was The Room. Constructed of three-foot-thick, steel-reinforced concrete walls, The Room was the northern wing of an eighteen-hundred-square-foot, state-of-the-art survival shelter, stocked with provisions for up to ten people to live on for as long as five years and complete with its own water and air filtration system. All constructed and designed by one Gavin Pemberton III.