Johnny pressed the hot iron to David’s forehead and branded in the last six, next to the other burned in numbers. David flinched from the pain. He inhaled his own burnt flesh, for a second the sizzle of searing flesh reached his ears. He closed his eyes and relished the deep burn and the sweet roasted pork aroma his singed skin created. Johnny removed the poker and nodded at David.
The president faced the crowd and the cameras. Shutters clicked, murmurs filled the room. “I don’t care how you accomplish this. We prefer either burning or tattoos. No dry erase markers, please.” He flashed a quick smile and a few chuckles erupted in the room. “We will kill you if you wear a removable mark. Period. Children and adults will be marked. Newborn babies will be marked. Consider the procedure a form of circumcision. Which is now banned.”
The president pointed to the mark on his forehead. “This will get you fed, housed, clothed, and protected. I will continue to repeat myself until all understands the importance of this. You must be marked. Period.”
His dark eyes swept over the crowd. “Local hospitals and feeding centers will have the equipment on hand to give you this mark. If you are caught without the mark in a week, you will be killed, your children taken in and marked. We don’t kill children, we are not monsters.”
David pursed his lips. “Welcome to a new era, to a new America.”
6
Former Presidential Advisor Patricia Jones escaped the White House before the EMP device exploded over Washington, D.C. She left her security detail, questioning their trust, and took a gray Ford sedan with government plates to her brownstone.
She parked her car in haste, bounded up the concrete stairs, and fumbled with her keys before she unlocked the door to slip inside her home.
Patricia lived alone. Her family lived in Idaho, and all her close friends worked for the government. Her small group of friends scattered, leaving her no one to trust. After Raymond died an agent warned her not to enter the Oval Office. Her exit depended on two things, accept the three sixes on her forehead, or a bullet.
Patricia ran to the brownstone basement and swung its door open as the EMP blast broke over the city in a bright flash followed by an incredible boom. Windows shattered throughout the city and the lights within her home flickered and went out to bathe her in darkness. The attack surprised her, yet she continued on.
Patricia, a West Point and Harvard graduate, and a former Blackhawk army pilot, allowed her training to kick in. She spent her first ten years in a Blackhawk cockpit, flying missions in both Iraq and Afghanistan. She returned to civilian life and entered the political world and became an advisor. Raymond picked her from a long competitive list.
When the Black Army arrived in Los Angeles she waited for the Rapture to start. When the Rapture failed to unfold, she realized a major problem faced the world. The Black Army revealed its purpose to jump-start the Apocalypse and the Second Coming.
Patricia brushed a hand along the basement brick wall and used her memory to guide her into the basement’s milky blackness. Like a zombie she moved to her large metal anti EMP case until her toes bumped into the metal box. She bent low, ran her hands over the cool case. Her fingers shook as she pulled out her keys and poked at the lock with several different keys before the correct one slid home. The lock opened and she flipped up the case.
She reached inside and removed a flashlight and turned it on. Patricia poured the white beam into the case to reveal a backpack, an M4 rifle, .40 Glock, and a hardened laptop computer. She removed the items and opened her backpack to check the contents inside. Her ammo and dried food sat on one side within the pack, her delicate electronics such as GPS, radio, and batteries sat on the other. She also owned an army Lensatic compass in the event her GPS failed.
Patricia gathered the gear and headed upstairs to her living room. She checked her weapon and the two hundred rounds tucked inside the pack. Two hundred would not be enough she surmised. Her escape from Washington, D.C. and into a more dangerous world sent a chill down her spine.
Patricia opened the laptop and pulled a black book from her backpack. She flipped through a few pages and found the correct page in the book and powered on her laptop. She typed in a code to unlock the screen, and typed in another code to send off encrypted messages in hopes the receivers still lived.
David Brown as President of the United States frightened her. A strong sense told her he killed Raymond. Raymond ordered a trace on David after the Virginia meeting with the angels. The tail turned up Johnny Chang’s contact with David. This forced Raymond to maintain a constant surveillance of David. His decision to send David to the Vatican made the V.P. nervous.
Patricia took a breath to calm her nerves. Raymond foresaw his own death. The rumors about government officials who joined the Black Army turned into fact. Most did not receive Satan’s damnable mark, so she operated in the blind as to who remained loyal to the United States. Soon the recent EMP blast would reveal the traitors.
She paused and gazed up at the darkness. Outside her basement window her neighbor’s voices reached her ears. A few screams broke and her laptop beeped. She settled her brown eyes to the screen and her mouth dried at the message.
“My God,” she said.
The Large Hadron Collider no longer existed. A massive army emerged from the ground. The Guardians, led by the angels of war, failed to thwart the new attack upon the world. The battle update raced in message form over her screen. The agent implanted within the Black Army security team for Armand Demhurst gave her a play by play. He managed to send snapshots and emailed the pictures to her through his smartphone.
Patricia typed a quick return message and ordered him to remain hidden. She would need more information soon. He ended his message with “God help us all.”
She powered off her computer with shaky fingers. Sweat slid down her temples as she shoved the laptop into the backpack. Poor Raymond. A shiver danced down her back at how close she came to getting killed herself.
Patricia fled the basement and went to her kitchen and gathered a few water bottles, jerky, dried fruit, and nuts. She went upstairs to her second floor bedroom and changed from her pants suit into jeans, a heavy black sweater, and combat boots. From her room she went to her closet and pulled out a one hundred pound pre packed army rucksack. She hefted the pack’s straps over her shoulders and slung her M4 rifle across her body. The other pack she carried in her other hand.
Patricia stepped out her front door, securing the lock behind her. She hoped no one broke into her home while away. Several hundred people clogged the black streets. Lighters speckled and swayed in the gloom with yellow and blue butane flames. Flashlights danced their beams along walls and tar-covered streets.
She took the steps down from her brownstone, ignoring the gray government car she once drove. Besides, the car no longer worked. Her eyes swept over the crowd in an effort to peek out danger.
No one seemed interested in the woman armed with a rifle, besides the darkness kept her hidden. She walked down the street towards a corner store and ducked into an alley. She stopped above a manhole cover and knelt.
From the small pack she removed a short crowbar and hefted up the heavy metal cover. The circular iron landed with a clang on the macadam. She dropped her rucksack into the hole, pulled the tiny pack on her back and eased partway down the sweaty rungs. She used the crowbar to slide the metal cover over top of her.
Patricia continued down into the darkness, her heartbeat pounding against her ribs as she turned on the flashlight and pointed the light east. White light painted against moisture slick concrete walls lined with sweating metal pipes. She planned her escape before David became a traitor. Raymond urged her to do this. Her actions, he told her, would save the United States and the world.
She leaned against the sewer wall and cried. Rats squeaked around her feet, damp mold and feces twisted her stomach with their putrid aromas.
“I have to go on,” she said.
Patricia removed the light
backpack and hefted the heavy ruck on her back. The sewers led to a security hideout tucked within the Virginia woods. A perfect place to plan a way to stop both David Brown and Armand Demhurst.
7
Tobias swam in the clear blue pools located on Heaven’s isolated far end. He enjoyed the water and the lush green jungle. Parrots fluttered through the thick leaves, their rainbow colors a fresh sight compared to red death. Dodos and other rare animals long extinct on earth rustled through the brush.
He soaked up the silence and peace the place offered. Far from the heartaches, anger, and inimical stares he refused to deal with from his brethren who resided in the kingdom. They blamed him and Daisy for Satan’s spectacular attack and success. As for Joan, they loathed.
He found their dislike justified. God gave the angels of war a job and they failed to handle their responsibility. Their failure caused catastrophic results. Yet, God trusted the team to figure out the problem. Tobias failed to understand why Jehovah expected the angels to redeem themselves from such an abysmal disaster.
Tobias walked from the warm waters. Droplets gleamed and dripped like jewels from his swimmer’s body. He wrapped a white cloth around his waist and headed for the muddy shore where his armor sat. With care he seized his cuirass and dipped the metal into the pool several times before he grabbed up heavy moss to scrub the blood and crusted flesh from the metal. Daisy eased from the tall ferns and banana trees lined near the pools.
“Are you sneaking up on me, Daisy?”
Daisy approached Tobias and sat on a rock as he scrubbed away at his armor. “Jehovah turned me into a Seraph.”
Tobias paused from his work and gazed at the white hair splayed over her shoulders. He fell to his knees in the pool. “Daisy.”
Daisy shook her head. “Don’t, Tobias. I’m not worthy to be knelt to. I’m uncomfortable with this power.” She waved her hand at him. “Get up.”
Tobias stood, lifting his armor from the water and placing it on the ground thick with moss. He stepped to her and sat with his legs crossed. “Why did He promote you?” He understood Seraphim owned incredible powers, not even talented archangels would be able to defeat them, Michael, yes, but not the others.
Daisy hunched her shoulders. “I’m tired of this, Tobias. He won’t start the Second Coming. He told me Lucifer’s defeat is still up to us and the mortals.”
“Do you want Him to start the Second Coming? We will all be judged, Daisy.”
“Why not? Jehovah wants us to pull off an impossible victory.”
Tobias picked up his silver plated skirt and checked the rivets. “We are outnumbered. Our firepower is here, locked up in the siege. There must be a way.”
Daisy pulled her white hair away from her face, tying the mane into a bun. “We will find a way. Besides, millions died because she decided to rescue two mortal men trapped in Hell. Joan’s failures forced God to promote me and not her.”
“Well, Satan and his Hell Force surprised us. We didn’t expected him to show up the way he did.”
“She still waited too late, Tobias. Almost like she didn’t care. Now we are forced to figure this out on our own with little help from above. I’m thinking about taking the lead now.”
Tobias chuckled. “Joan is still in charge, Daisy Lane. If Jehovah did not announce your promotion let the subject rest.”
Tobias grabbed his greaves to check the straps. “Besides, is she redeemed?”
“God didn’t mention if Joan would return to the fight or not. Another indicator He wants me to lead the team.”
Tobias spied out a Bangle Tiger in the heavy brush across the pool from them. The tiger lazed near the opposite bank, stretching out its powerful orange and black striped body. “We need to go to Texas and reorganize the Guardians. How many do you think survived the battle?”
“About fifteen thousand.” Daisy stared at the bright sky. “They are all waiting in Texas for our return.”
Tobias dipped a cupped hand into the crystal pool, scooped up water and drank the cool sweet liquid. “Good, very good,” he said and turned to Daisy. “We can reorganize.”
Daisy faced her friend. “How and where do we start? We are far behind, Tobias. If we fight a full on battle we are done, thanks to Joan.”
Tobias pulled himself to his feet and walked toward the pool and stared at the powerful tiger across from him. He needed to think like a Marine. Marines fought even if outnumbered, they disregarded numbers and thrived on danger. “We can fight the Black Army and Ghost Soldiers on earth.”
“Keep talking.”
Tobias hunkered down. “Since the Hell Force is besieging Heaven, the larger threat his here.”
Daisy nodded. “The Ghost Soldiers and Black Army are nothing but humans, dead Chinese soldiers, and lesser demons covering the earth.”
“Any human with powerful faith can take them out. Now who do we attack first?”
“Armand and his Black Army first, he’s the weakest of the group. We can fight the Ghost Soldiers later.”
Tobias nodded. “After we kill Armand the Black Army should unravel.”
“David Brown will be easy to kill. What about Lucifer?”
“Lucifer is God’s problem. We should be concerned only if the siege fails.”
Daisy narrowed her green eyes. “A big if, Tobias. Lucifer captured the advantage with Oni.”
Tobias gazed at Daisy and wondered about her loyalty, he shook off the bothersome thought. “Well, let’s pray they fail at the siege.”
Daisy dipped her hands into the cool water and splashed her face. “If they fail I can lure Lucifer to earth.”
Tobias made a noise in his throat. The huge Bangle Tiger climbed to its four powerful legs and bounded into the blue pool with a splash. The tiger rose from the water, sunlight spun off his wet fur, the beast roared and lumbered up the shoreline to approach Tobias.
Tobias dug his hands into the beast’s damp fur. He smiled and the tiger slid its rough tongue along the angel’s arm. “Lucifer will be forced to come down if he fails, luring him will be unnecessary.”
“God asked me if I still loved Lucifer.”
Tobias sat on the ground. The Bangle Tiger stretched its muscular body out next to his legs. “Do you?”
“I told God no.”
“That’s not what I asked, Daisy. You’re playing a dangerous game if you’re holding old emotions for Lucifer.”
“Jehovah left us with no other choice but to play a dangerous game. At times I believe Lucifer can change for the better.”
Tobias shook his head. “I will not believe such a thing. He killed millions upon millions, Daisy. I warn you, leave those misguided thoughts in the past.”
Daisy tucked in her bottom lip. “Well, he’s more than the mortal I left on earth.”
“If you love Lucifer, you might die along with him.”
Daisy smirked. “With my power who do you suppose will stop me, Tobias?”
Tobias rubbed his hands deeper into the tiger’s thick fur, his fingers pressed against the predator’s hardened muscles. “I’ll change this subject for now. We both need to get to earth and figure out what is going on with the Guardians.”
“…and correct Joan’s failure.”
Tobias held his gaze on the tiger at his feet, alarm swept through him. He wondered if Daisy would betray them like Okura. “To correct our, failure, Daisy Lane. Our failure.”
8
General Isaiah Gold stood before the Wailing Wall. He placed his head against the porous stone and closed his eyes. His lips moved in silence as he slipped a tiny folded paper from his pocket, jamming the written prayer into a crack within the ancient wall.
After General Gold said his prayers he turned and eased through the heavy crowd. He sensed the people’s deep worry, their prayers floated up into the air. He fought to keep their contagious fear away from his spirit.
Isaiah reached the parking lot underneath a sky thick with gray storm clouds. His armed security team and driver wai
ted for him as he approached a black late model Mercedes Benz limo. The driver opened the rear door to the armored car and Isaiah got inside. Once seated, he lifted his laptop and flipped up the screen. He logged on to find a message in his secured email.
Isaiah swallowed the lump in his throat. His American contact sent him bad news. News spelling out war on such a scale he didn’t expect any mortal to survive its aftermath.
Pope Alexander Lito X sent him a message also. His face twisted in horror, he did his best to control his emotions. He realized the culled together world army became an evaporated dream. His driver slash bodyguard sat behind the driver’s wheel, silent and waiting.
Isaiah leaned forward. “To the temple, Sergeant Boka.”
The driver nodded and eased the black limo into traffic with the security team close behind him in three armored jeeps.
Isaiah’s eyes roved over the scene scrolling by his window. People roamed everywhere in groups, families, the elderly, and Palestinians. All jammed the streets and all fearing one enemy capable of destroying their world. No one fought. They helped each other to ward off an enemy sweeping over the planet. The Palestinians offered peace and this made his heart glad, a bright spot despite the bad news he received from his friends.
The limo driver negotiated the tight streets and crowds until she reached an ancient area located an hour ride outside of Israel. She stopped the vehicle and before them on a hill, sat a battered temple located among ruins littered with fallen columns and cracked steps and blocked sandstone walls.
Isaiah stepped from the limo. No hot sun pressed against his skin. Mysterious storm clouds roiled above the ancient land. He faced the wrought iron fence built around the temple constructed during King David’s reign. He approached the gate and unlocked it. His security team, armed with machineguns, waited outside for him. He climbed the old steps toward a dark door set into the temple.
Angels of War Battle of Archangels (Book 3) (Angels of War Trilogy) Page 3
