The door, made from black petrified wood, dated older than King David’s time. He used another key and unlocked the door and slipped inside. He entered the deep hall and closed the door behind him.
Inside the cool dark temple, he gave his eyes time to adjust to the scant light. He walked in deeper, inhaling the musty desert scent. Ancient stones formed the walls and ceiling. A stone table sat before him. He walked pass the table and headed for a staircase built down into the floor and ended at a modern door.
Isaiah tapped his index finger on a keypad near the door and the door slid open. He crossed the threshold, the scent changed for ancient musk to lemons and blue electricity. He walked down a corridor with white-waxed floors and turned a corner to face armed guards who stood before another door.
He appreciated the heavy security. The enemy burrowed deep into the American government like a parasitic worm. And like a worm, ate the country from the inside out. Israelis and Palestinians did not adhere to America’s politically correct culture. Both governments remained strict on who they hired, and their extreme bluntness kept most troublemakers away.
Isaiah produced his credentials and the guards checked his identification card. He stepped forward and entered another code on a keypad and this door slid open and dumped him into a control room filled with busy people.
Isaiah swept his eyes over the crowd. He faced military technicians who sat behind computers. A glassed in office sat above the workers. Military personnel from all branches attached to the Israeli and Palestinian military filled the massive room.
The general walked through the bustle and towards an elevator. He got in and the elevator whisked him up to the observation office. He entered a room where two men sat. Prime Minister Jacob Gold and Prime Minister Abdul Rashid Mohamed, men with weathered faces. Both turned to the younger man who entered the soundproof office.
Isaiah approached the older Israeli and kissed his hand. He turned toward the older man and gave him a slight bow and a firm handshake. “Prime Minister, Abdul Rashid Mohamed, pleased to meet you.”
The older Israeli, well into his eighties, lifted a hand. “Sit down, my son.”
“Yes, father.” Isaiah sat gazing at the two men.
Abdul, with a face covered in a thick gray beard, leaned forward. He adjusted his bright white robes and smiled. “Isaiah, you took a big chance with this meeting. Your fellow Israelis may no longer consider you their beloved general and son.”
Isaiah frowned. His father remained silent and waited for his son to answer. “Sir, there might not be a Palestine or an Israel if we do not join against this menace.”
Abdul shifted his gaze to Jacob. “Your father and I fought each other for years. We fought over God, our place to be recognized as the owners of a land stolen from us.” He fingered his thick beard. “Now you ask us to join in a fight to help the infidels. I’m surprised America is fighting against Satan. I expected them to help his cause.”
Jacob gave his son a weary smile. “Why are you so eager to join this fight, Isaiah? This is America’s fight.”
“Because, father. That fight might end up here in Israel and Palestine lands. We understand this. This is written in the Torah, in the Quran, and in the Bible.”
Abdul smiled. “God is great, Isaiah. But at this moment the Americans are suffering the fate they asked for. They courted Satan far too long and this is the result of their sinful actions. Let the war pass.”
“With all due respect, prime minister. Pass to where? To here, to our lands? Look what happened in Europe. An army of demons is winning this battle and I fear they will not stop until they consume the entire world. Also, Pope Alexander Lito X is dead.” The two older men exchanged quick glances with each other.
Jacob passed a hand across his face. “Do any of the Americans know of your ambitious plan, my son?”
Isaiah licked his lips. His muscles tensed and he took a breath to calm his nerves. “One American, father. Presidential Advisor Patricia Jones.”
Abdul released a thick and hearty laugh. “President Wallace is dead, replaced by President David Brown. Your cause is lost, my son.”
“I am not your son, prime minister. And I understand Raymond Wallace is dead. Patricia Jones is connected to the Guardians and the angels. Also, Patricia Jones can replace David Brown.”
Jacob’s mouth opened. “So an army exists?”
“We are not organized, father. But I believe we, along with the Guardians, can stop Satan’s army here on earth. This war is necessary.”
Abdul grunted. “The war of all wars. The return of the Prophet.”
“The return of peace, prime minister, and only this war can achieve our goals.”
Jacob closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair. He turned to Abdul. “This can benefit us both, Abdul.”
“No, father. Our actions will benefit the world. We must stop them, and we must stop fighting each other long enough to accomplish this task. Satan and the Black Army don’t care if we are the sons of Abraham. We’ve been fighting for centuries, and this is the time for us to stop fighting and come together. The real enemy escaped from Hell, and he is coming our way.”
Prime Minister Abdul Rashid Mohamed stood from his chair. “We shall stand together, General Isaiah Gold. A temporary truce long enough to fight a mutual enemy.”
Jacob stood and the two old men clasped hands.
Isaiah took a deep breath and rose on weak knees. “I’m happy you both decided on this. The world depends on you two men.” He smiled. “But you cannot use rifles and bombs in this battle. Only swords, spears, and shields can stop this army.”
Jacob nodded his head. “Then get them ready, Isaiah.”
Isaiah, heady from the two leader’s temporary truce, exhaled. “I will father. God is great.”
9
Maria and Jason landed in Texas near the Rio Grande. Its once bright bubbling waters sluggish like thickened blood within a once vibrant heart. Darkness hung over the land.
They faced Guardians sitting in defeated clumps along the black river. Many no longer wore their armor, but kept their swords close at hand. Small campfires sputtered amongst the brambles and bracken. A few stood to their feet once the warriors emerged from the sky.
Maria raised her hand. “Stay seated, please.”
She swept her eyes over grim faces smeared with blood and dirt. She took in their broken spirits. Many stared into the ground at their feet, others raised tents and crawled inside and went to sleep. A few cooked food and chewed on cold MREs in a daze. No one spoke.
The angel walked up to the small tent Jason raised before they headed off to France to fight against the army from Hell. She sat on the ground, wanting to lay back and close her eyes, to rest a little while.
Her desire to crawl into the tent like the others and hide for a few days ran strong in her mind. But she needed to stay aware, stay on her feet encase someone followed them to Texas to give them another fight.
Jason sat next to her, pulled off his armor and slid the sculpted metal into the tent. He glanced up at the skies packed with dark clouds. Icy winds howled and blew down upon them. Goose bumps raised along his arms. “So we’re going to sit here, lie down and sleep while chaos reigns?”
Maria ran a hand through her black hair. “Yes, Jason. My friend died, and two angels captured.”
Jason stared around him at the sullen and sad soldiers. The river bubbled like thick soup not too far away, its once joyous song gone. “Where’s General Black?”
Maria hunched her shoulders. “He might be doing what we are all doing.”
“And that is?”
“Trying to figure out what happened.”
“Satan happened, Maria. We fought him and took off once they outnumbered us. We saved some of the troops.”
“Fifteen thousand Guardians at arms. Enough for what? Not to fight another major battle. Millions of demons and Hell spawns escaped the CERN. We can’t fight them all, not even with our powers.”
Jason shook his head. “I don’t believe you’re going to give up on the Guardians.” He pointed back at the troops camped near the river, a few anguished cries rose up into the air. “They volunteered to fight and they are still here, none of them went home.”
“What do you want me to do, Jason? Our leadership is broken. Joan is dead. Daisy, and Tobias are captured. We are doomed.”
“Where’s your faith,” he said through teeth clamped tight. “I don’t believe you of all people, are talking about defeat. We both went to Hell and back and I’m still breathing for a reason.”
“Because God wills it, Jason.”
“Maybe He thought up a plan B, C, and D and decided not to tell you. Maybe this is another one of His tests.”
Maria fought back the tears, but the tears came. Her vision blurred and snot clogged her nose. She wanted to hide herself away inside the tent. Yet, she stopped and pounded a fist into the desert floor several times.
Jason scooted closer to Maria and kissed her smooth face. “You saved me. You braved Hell and fought in France.”
Maria placed her hand on Jason’s shoulder. She pulled him to her and held him, her tears pouring. His chapped lips met hers and they kissed a deep kiss. “I’m breaking every rule in the book, Jason.”
“Don’t worry, Maria. You can lead us. We can figure out some way to fight them.”
She touched his hand and turned her head towards the tent, kissed him again. A flutter ran through her stomach. She scooted herself into the tent and Jason followed her and closed the flap behind them.
10
Joan swept from the gloomy clouds like an eagle. She flew over the land darkened by a sky without sun. A cold wind beat against the earth, and almost every city Joan flew over chaos raged in red horror. Gun battles, riots, people fleeing the metropolises in large masses choked the freeways. Black Army troops and Ghost Soldiers ran rampant throughout the country. And to her anger she found herself unable to engage them.
Finding the archangel Michael remained a priority, and rescuing him from whatever bleak place the dark archangel Oni confined him to. After the rescue she would clean up the earth the best way possible with her broken army.
When she flew from Heaven, she dedicated herself to Michael’s rescue. All other matters took a backseat. Even Lucifer’s attack remained second to her father’s safety. How else would Heaven protect itself without Michael’s help? No other alternative entered her mind. Others would continue to die until she rescued her father.
She never imagined the Large Hadron Collider as a door powerful enough to tear a rip into reality and release the dark world upon the earth.
Joan’s fight with Lucifer remained fresh in her mind. She flinched, recalling Lucifer’s hot sword crashing against her neck. The pain, a bright red bolt, burned hotter than fire if such a thing existed. The pain ripped into her neck and through her soul. For a moment she feared Lucifer found a way to blot her from existence, soul and all. Yet no one in the universe owned such powers except for God.
The archangel headed towards Los Angeles. Her heart thumping harder in her chest. Below her, explosions and tracer rounds ripped throughout Los Angeles city streets. A heavy battle erupted between troops dressed in black uniforms and American soldiers joined by civilians. Ghost Soldiers fought among the black clad men, yet the soldiers and civilians held their ground.
Hot tears fell from her eyes. She wanted to join the fight below. Heat coursed through Joan. Her muscles bunched and ached in her shoulders. She swept across LAX and spotted a tremendous cargo plane parked on the tarmac. The black plane, with the three sixes stenciled on its sides and the pentagram painted in red on its dual tail fins, continued to unload both troops and vehicles to the runway. She said a prayer for the defenders and turned away from the city.
Joan called out to Michael and flew across the states and north into Canada. She raced beneath gray clouds so thick not one sunray slipped from between its dark folds. Every major city she passed seemed engaged in battle against the enemy. A few cities fell while others repelled Satan’s minions, both human and monster.
She called out to her father and swept the North Pole and its white tundra. Her eyes scanned once white icebergs, now a dirty gray like Manhattan’s snow turned into mush after a week of heavy traffic. Michael’s voice still did not rise to her ears.
The archangel pumped her wings and headed for Great Britain. London burned. More gun battles erupted in the streets beneath her. A massive tail fin from a cargo plane jutted up amongst flames and what use to be the Big Ben clock. Her eyes swept over the red pentagram painted against the tail section, the second large cargo plane she seen since Los Angeles.
Her eyes watered at the fight below. She swept by the cargo plane’s burning wreckage. Black Army soldiers died in the thousands from British troops. The Union Jack waved high above the British soldiers heads, with Black Army standards being trampled underneath their booted feet.
Joan headed towards France, to where Lucifer first broached the earth dressed in scaled armor. She eased over hills once covered in green grass, now browned from Hell’s foul arrival. With each breath her lungs filled with burnt air and sulfur. Her nose ran clear water and her eyes became teary. She soared over villages torched to the ground, dead bodies littered the roads and highways below. Cars, buildings, and people continued to burn.
Joan headed to where the Large Hadron Collider once sat. Her eyes took in the land below drenched in shadows. All buildings rendered to a black crisp, the once green grass and hills scorched as if a terrible fire destroyed every animated and unanimated object for a sixty-mile radius.
She landed and her sandaled feet touched the burnt ground near the place where Lucifer arrived upon the earth. Her stomach trembled, tiny bumps played up her arms. The hole, once a door, now closed, resembled a circular pit covered in charcoal. Upon its alien surface, yellow steam rose in slender fingers carrying sulfur’s hard stench.
People moved about the area wearing white masks, towels or handkerchiefs over their noses. They searched for dead friends and relatives. Guardians who fell in battle did not remain on the ground. Guardian angels and cherubs removed them from the field and swept them up into glory. Yet the mortals dead remained, even the damned who ventured upon the earth no longer covered the field, their souls and bodies thrown into Oblivion, a punishment for joining Satan’s attack upon both Heaven and earth.
Joan walked forward and pressed her feet against the black ground. The soil broke into chunks like charcoal burned to white ash. The guardian angels closed the hole from Hell after the battle ended and the minions moved on to spread war and fear throughout the earth. The other Hell spawns remained trapped in Hell, yet millions upon million managed to get through. A cancer caught too late.
The archangel no longer doubted her talent, her purpose. She no longer wallowed in shame for her rescue by God from the floods He drowned the earth in. She yearned to end the war and keep her family in Heaven safe.
Oblivion came to mind. To become nonexistent, not even an atom would remain or a small sprite filled with life. She closed her eyes and swallowed down another breath scorched from the fires. She opened her brown eyes and stared at the defiled ground beneath her feet. Again she called Michael’s name and he did not answer.
Joan ambled ahead until she stood in the center. The breach, now covered, resembled a wound scabbed over. A once seventeen-mile circular device created by man and destroyed by Satan released the Hell Force. She gazed at the humans who continued their grim work. Yellow sulfuric curls rose up around her as if the dead buried below smoked some horrid cigarette.
She steadied herself, entering Hell to find her father flitted through her mind. She needed to go into the underworld alone. Her strong fingers clasped her sword hilt, the pink, red, and purple gemstones sparkled. She rubbed her thumb along the Judea lion engraved on the hilt’s knob.
Joan plunged into the ground at her feet. As she fell a loathsome amazement filled her. The gr
ound beneath the destroyed Collider contained scorched earth and brimstone packed tight. The guardian angels worked fast to seal the hole after the breach. She prayed this rip in reality remained closed and no other holes opened.
Joan pushed herself hard to escape the dark tomb she plowed through. She held her breath, even though the fumes would not kill her, she loathed the reek in her nostrils. In her descent she bumped into human corpses, those who fell into the hole and suffocated to death. A chill ran up her spine. The horror they endured before their souls fled into the mystery of the afterlife no doubt terrified them.
The archangel landed on solid ground. She remained entombed within the brimstone and heavy dirt, the blackness. She drew her sword and pushed through the packed earth.
Red light blazed before her, bright and comfortless. She lifted her hand to shade against the glare until her sight adjusted. Once her eyes became accustomed to the Hell light, she faced a massive staircase stretched out below her. The downward flight ended at a stone floor, and on the floor sat Hellhounds. Their ram horned heads lifted up and turned towards her, they climbed to their four paws.
Joan twirled her blade, taking the steps down one at a time. Her eyes searched the area behind the hounds. A few demons and Hell guards roamed about in the distance. She surmised the fiendish group remained to keep the lights on. The choice to either fight or fly over the enemy played in her thoughts. Human sized bats hung from the cavern roof, their black heads turned in her direction, their red eyes riveted upon her.
The archangel decided to fight.
11
Joan descended the cracked rocky steps like a Ms. Universe contestant. A white maniacal smile spread across her face. Her brown eyes widened and filled with a wild madness.
Hellhounds, in the thousands, rose to their clawed paws and howled their displeasure at the archangel’s surprise appearance. The huge man sized bats screeched at Joan who entered Hell as if she owned the horrible realm.
Angels of War Battle of Archangels (Book 3) (Angels of War Trilogy) Page 4
