Battle Sky (The Battle Series, Book 4)

by Mark Romang

  Banks loved listening to Brooke’s voice. He was confident God loved hearing her voice too. Brooke’s petitions were surely like incense to the Almighty. And Banks pictured the Lord listening intently, missing nothing, and instructing angels to act accordingly.

  Every believer has this privilege, to communicate at any time with the Creator about anything. And yet so few take full advantage of this priceless gift. Jenny, his ex-wife, had been a prayer warrior. He used to watch her pray, marveling at how she could communicate so effectively with something she couldn’t see.

  Like anything, Banks supposed it took practice and discipline to pray effectively. But then other times he thought the ability to pray with passion was a spiritual gift. Certainly Jenny possessed this gift, and Banks was pretty certain Brooke possessed the same gift.

  A brief smile crossed Banks’ face. Soon I’ll no longer struggle to pray to an invisible Deity. I’ll see Christ in person. I’ll gaze upon his face as I carry on a conversation with him.

  Banks pondered this heady thought for a long time, allowed it to stir his hope into action as he navigated the storm tunnel. He had a destination in mind. And they’d been moving toward that location for some time. He wanted to arrive to a spot directly beneath Westlake Park, or at least close by, and find an exit point leading to the park.

  Easier said than done. Once they found the exit point, C.J. wanted to reconnoiter the park and come up with his rescue plan.

  Good luck with that, Banks thought. Rescuing Tanner from his date with the executioner seemed like a pipe dream, an impossible mission. Tom Cruise couldn’t even pull off such a mission.

  C.J. would have to somehow overcome heavily armed security personnel roaming the grounds, UWC officers guarding the stage, bloodthirsty spectators, and lastly, the axe-wielding executioner himself. Long odds no matter how optimistic one looked at it.

  Up ahead the tunnel veered sharply to the right. Banks held his left hand aloft to signify he wished to stop. He got out the schematic again. But before he could find their location on the map, another headlamp appeared around the corner.

  The person abruptly halted and asked, “Friend or foe?”

  Banks quickly ascertained the person was female—a short, middle-aged woman. “We are friendly,” he answered.

  “My name is Mary. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you people down here before. What are your names?”

  Banks introduced himself and the others to Mary, but purposely withheld their last names.

  “Where are you headed to?” Mary asked in a gentler voice.

  “We’re trying to find an exit point close to Westlake Park,” Brooke said.

  “That’s easy. I know these tunnels well. I can show you. Follow me,” Mary said, and headed off the way she came.

  Banks looked at the others and shrugged his shoulders. They shrugged back at him. Not knowing what else to do, he followed after Mary. Perhaps the most wearisome aspect of living in the Tribulation period is the raging paranoia. Each stranger poses a potential threat. And when trust dissolves into suspicion, community falls apart.

  Banks felt good about Mary though. For some reason his intuition told him Mary checked out. He felt he could trust her.

  For a short-legged woman, Mary walked quickly and covered a lot of ground. Banks half-jogged to keep up. But he grew tired quickly. He hadn’t eaten in a while, nor had he drank anything since he left the prison. He felt like a flower wilting from too much sun and not enough rain.

  The tunnel they traveled down finally ended, but hooked up with another passageway.

  Banks quickly noticed a difference in this tunnel. Murky water covered the floor and nearly reached his ankles. “Mary, is this a sewer tunnel?”

  Mary didn’t answer him. Like a modern day Harriet Tubman, she continued splashing down the tunnel for several more minutes. But then she stopped and waited for him and the others to catch up. When everyone stood together, Mary pointed her head upward. Her headlamp revealed steel rungs bolted to the concrete wall. “This ladder goes up to a manhole cover. You can exit there. You’ll be two blocks from Westlake Park,” Mary said. She looked at them quizzically. “Why are you interested in Westlake Park? Nothing good happens there. It’s an accursed place where believers become martyrs. Tomorrow there will be a new batch of prisoners executed in the park. They’ll all lose their heads.”

  “How can you know there will be executions tomorrow?” Banks asked.

  “Executions always take place on Thursdays. Don’t ask me why. They just always do. Now, I ask you again, ‘Why do you wish to go to Westlake Park?’”

  “My brother was captured yesterday by UWC officers. We want to rescue him before his execution is carried out,” C.J. said.

  Even in the dark tunnel, Banks watched Mary’s face grow long. “What is his name?” she asked.

  “Tanner.”

  “Tanner Mason?”

  C.J. nodded. “How did you know his last name?”

  “Because I saw his name on the list.”

  “What list?”

  “A list containing names of those slated for execution is posted on Wednesday afternoons. They’re simply fliers hung on light poles and storefront windows near the park. I remember seeing Tanner’s name on the flier. His name is first on the list, which means he will be executed first.”

  “Dear Lord, please don’t let it happen,” Brooke sobbed.

  Banks put an arm around her. It’s all he could think to do.

  C.J. extinguished his headlamp and walked up to the ladder. “I got to go up there and check out the park. Maybe I’ll think of something.”

  Mary put a hand on C.J.’s arm. “You need to wait until nightfall. It’s easier to avoid the UWC officers then.”

  “But it has to be dusk by now. The sun doesn’t shine nearly as long as it used to.”

  Mary pulled up a sleeve and looked at her watch. Banks noticed the watch looked big and expensive, like a men’s Rolex.

  “Who am I to keep you from going up there? And perhaps you’re right. Maybe twilight has fallen.”

  C.J. put a hand on the first rung, but Brooke interrupted his ascent. “There has to be another way, little brother. You’re going to get yourself killed. You can’t shoot your way past Henrik Skymolt’s government. Besides that, what you’re doing doesn’t seem like the Christian thing to do. I’m not sure God approves of anarchy, even if it is against a government like Skymolt’s. Romans 13 tells us to be subject to the governing authorities.”

  C.J. turned around. His eyes shone fiercely. “I know you love Tanner as much as I do, Brooke. But Tanner and I share a special relationship. You can never understand the “twin” thing unless you are one. I look like Tanner. I think like Tanner. We have the same likes and dislikes. We feel each other’s emotions. Right now our brother is fearful. But he’s also determined, just as I’m determined not to let him be executed. And as far as performing acts of anarchy against Henrik Skymolt, his government isn’t legitimate. We don’t have to do anything he says. If you do you’re obeying the devil.” C.J. turned and started climbing.

  “He’s certainly a strongminded young man,” Mary said.

  “Shouldn’t we go up with him?” Gretchen asked.

  Banks nodded. “We should. Who knows what C.J. will run into aboveground.” Banks moved forward. “Let me go first,” he said and started climbing the ladder. He went first because he wanted to protect the women from what may be lurking aboveground. He wasn’t concerned about Brooke’s brother. C.J. didn’t seem like he needed anyone to watch his back. And Banks suspected C.J. carried a sidearm.

  The ladder didn’t go up far—nine to ten feet max. Banks watched C.J.’s boot soles disappear completely. In short order Banks clambered out the manhole. They were in the middle of a side street. Dusk had indeed fallen over Seattle. He found C.J. nearby, squatting on his heels and peering through binoculars at the adjacent buildings.

  Even though the city seemed like a ghost metropolis, Banks felt more
than conspicuous. “See anything?”

  “I’m looking for security cameras. I see three of them. But two of them have loose wires dangling from them.”

  “Those are probably the ones we need to look out for.”

  C.J. lowered his binoculars. He looked over at Banks. “You understand why I’m doing this, Nathan?”

  “Yeah, I do. And I admire you for it. You’re a good brother.”

  “I’d do anything for him.”

  “I know.”

  “Brooke doesn’t get it.”

  “And she probably won’t. So keep that in mind.”

  “She loves you, Nathan. You know that, don’t you?”

  Banks felt his heart stutter. “Brooke?”

  “Of course, Brooke. Who else would I be talking about?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah, no doubt about it. She cried for days when you left the bunker and turned yourself in. Just do me a favor and don’t hurt her. Her heart is already broken over Tanner.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt your sister. I promise.”

  One by one the women joined them. Mary appeared last. Banks slid the manhole cover into place.

  “We need to move. We can’t stay in one place for very long,” Mary said.

  “Is this Olive Way?” C.J. asked. “It’s been seven years since I’ve been to downtown, but this street seems vaguely familiar. And I think I see the Times Square Building up ahead.”

  “You’re right. We’re on Olive Way.” Mary answered. “We can get on Fourth Avenue at the Times Square Building, and then take Fourth Avenue over to Westlake Park. It’s a short walk.”

  C.J. nodded. “Let’s get after it.”

  Mary led off, with C.J. and Gretchen pairing up close behind. Banks walked beside Brooke. He slowed purposely, wanting to have a little distance between them and the other three. “You doing okay?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m alright. But I feel dread for C.J. and Tanner. I can’t see tomorrow going well for them.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Tomorrow might turn out to be a fantastic day for all of us.”

  “I hope you’re right. But C.J. seems intent on joining Tanner on the execution stage. And I can’t persuade him to back off.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Brooke, but C.J. might be fulfilling his destiny. It’s like a rite of manhood. Every man has to at some point face his fears, take on the hero role and protect the helpless. It’s in our DNA to slay dragons.”

  “Like you did when you turned yourself in and brought down Skymolt’s drones?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You did the whole world a favor. It was a brave and selfless thing to do. I’m proud of you, Nathan.”

  Without thinking, Banks took her hand in his. “Together we’ll get through this. And one day we won’t even remember this crazy world.”

  Streetlights winked on, but not all the lights came on. Many remained off. The city hid in murkiness, aiding their obscurity. Banks looked around at the shuttered businesses. This area of Seattle used to be a retail hub, a shopper and food lover’s paradise. Not anymore.

  They walked past the iconic Times Square Building. The flatiron-shaped building used to house the editorial staff of the Seattle Times in the early twentieth century. Cafes, clothing stores, and art studios filled its spaces most recently. Tonight only a few dim lights shone in its grimy windows.

  Banks got the distinct feeling that the city was dying. He also got the impression the same sickness ravaged the entire planet. All of creation is yearning for your return, Lord. I too yearn for your arrival. And I can’t wait to see the new heavens and the new earth you’re going to create. I know it will be awesome.

  They turned down 4th Avenue and headed south. He still held Brooke’s hand. She didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t either.

  He’d spent three years in solitary confinement. And during that time he’d ached for the warmth of human touch. Clasping Brooke’s small, soft hand easily fulfilled his craving.

  Mary stopped by a large tree growing in the sidewalk about thirty yards from the park. They all gathered around her.

  Banks studied Westlake Park. Adjacent to the now defunct Westlake Mall, the place was a park in title only. Considered the city’s town square, Westlake Park is a plaza, a gathering place next to the mall. At one time political activists and protesters liked to speak their mind here. The park was mostly empty now. A few workers positioned barricades around the stage.

  “This is far as we go. Those workers might report us if they see us,” Mary said quietly.

  “What are the barricades for?” C.J. asked.

  “The hired crowd will be inside the barricade. They’re paid to cheer on the executioner and to heckle the prisoners.”

  “It all sounds so medieval. We’ve gone backwards as a society,” Gretchen said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “So you have to be selected to be inside the barricade?” C.J. continued.

  “Not necessarily. But you do have to be chipped. Everyone who goes inside the barricade has to walk through a chip reader. If you’re not chipped the chip reader will sound an alarm. Naturally, all of us rebels stay outside the barricade. We don’t want to get caught,” Mary said.

  “Are the chip readers manned or unmanned?” Banks asked.

  “They were manned at the beginning. But now they’re unmanned.”

  “So the chip readers aren’t really scanning your identity when you walk through them, they’re just scanning to see if you have an implanted chip?”

  Mary shrugged. “I guess that’s right. I’ve never really thought much about it. I always stand at a distance when I attend the executions. I don’t go anywhere near the chip readers.”

  “Why on earth do you go to the executions?” Brooke asked.

  Mary turned to face her. “I go only to pray for those being executed. I pray that God will give them courage, and that they won’t feel any pain as they leave this world.”

  Banks touched Mary on her sleeve. “Do any of the UWC officers inside the barricade have laptops or tablets with them. And if they do, do you remember seeing any of them looking at their screens as the people walk through the readers?”

  “No, I don’t believe I’ve seen any of them carrying tablets or laptops.”

  “What are you getting at, Nathan?” C.J. said.

  “I’m thinking you don’t need an official Skymolt marking chip to get inside the barricade. You just need an RFID chip.”

  “If that’s the case, all you need is a credit card. They all have chips in them now,” Gretchen said.

  Mary shook her head. “You probably won’t be able to find a discarded card in time. All the world banks went bankrupt long ago. The only credit card you can get now is the Skymolt card. And to get it you have to be implanted with his official chip. Additionally, a UWC officer has to witness you bowing down and worshiping one of Henrik Skymolt’s statues.”

  “Forget that then. I only pee on his statues,” C.J. grumbled.

  “I think I can make you an RFID chip, C.J.,” Banks said. “You couldn’t buy anything with it, but you might be able to pass through the chip reader by the barricade and get close to the stage.”

  “What? Are you MacGyver or something? How could you possibly do that? And where are you going to get the materials?”

  “Trislio gave me a satchel packed with oddities. The contents inside the satchel included copper tape and some ICs—integrated circuits. All I need is some cardboard to mount them to, and then I can make some dummy chips to get us inside the barricade.”

  “Who is Trislio?”

  Banks looked at Mary. “You’d like him. Trislio is an angel.”

  “You’ve spoken to an angel?”

  Banks nodded. “Trislio did more than talk to me. He helped me escape prison yesterday.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Tomorrow we might all be conversing with angels. The spirit realm and the physical realm are
going to merge,” Mary said.

  “I don’t know if we can be sure tomorrow is the day. It all hinges on when Henrik Skymolt signed the peace treaty with Israel. That’s when the seven years started,” Gretchen said.

  “Maybe the signing that took place on TV was only ceremonial. The two sides could’ve secretly validated the treaty days earlier. We’ll never know for sure,” C.J. said.

  “We can continue this debate belowground. And I can assemble the RFID chips down there while we talk,” Banks said.

  “Nathan is right. Let’s not push our luck up here,” Brooke said.

  C.J. glanced once more at the stage, and then took a 360 degree look at the area surrounding the park. “Okay, I guess I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 45

  Back in the storm drains, Mary led them to an out-of-the-way chamber that provided just enough area for them to sit down and have elbow room. The chamber served as Mary’s home. There were belongings in the chamber, but not many. Banks saw a few clothes, some beat-up pots and pans, candles, and a ratty blanket.

  Mary lived simply. By necessity she had to. When you’re a rebel and you live in the Tribulation you have to be able to pack up and move quickly.

  You can never grow roots.

  Working by candlelight and his headlamp, Banks began constructing the dummy chips. The first step was to cut cardboard into squares to mount the copper tape and IC’s to. Mary provided him with a cardboard box for the project.

  Banks borrowed a pocketknife from C.J. and cut the cardboard into four inch by two inch squares. The squares were small enough to hide on the underside of the wrist, provided one wore a long-sleeve shirt or jacket.

  Banks then took the conductive copper tape and cut it into thin strips about 2 mm wide. He carefully peeled off the adhesive backing and attached the tape strips to one of the cardboard squares, forming three or four loops. And then using a battery-operated soldering gun he found in the satchel Trislio gave him, Banks soldered all the connections between the copper tape. In just minutes, the RFID tag antenna was complete. Next he attached an RFID IC next to the copper tape antenna. In only minutes he had a usable RFID tag.