The Rapture Dialogues: Dark Dimension (The Second Coming Chronicles Book 1)

by Terry James

  “The storm’s let up,” Randall Prouse said, lifting the canvas to see water dripping from the overhang. He removed the canvas covering, folded it, and tossed it aside.

  “That wasn’t just another storm,” Christopher Banyon said.

  “Reminded me of the kind of weather we have in Texas, especially in the Panhandle during the spring,” the archaeologist said. “Don’t see the likes of that one around here at any season.”

  “It was a struggle…against the prince of the power of the air,” Susie Banyon said. “Our prayers, and those of others … ended his storm.”

  “I believe you’re right, Susie, I truly believe you are right,” Prouse said, peering downward at the place where Solomon’s Temple, and later, Herod’s Temple once sat. A single, powerful column of sunlight beamed directly upon the center of Mount Moriah.

  Chapter 14

  Egypt –7:45 A.M. June 5, 1967

  Gamul Abdul Nasser’s military forces were taken by surprise. Only a few of the Soviet-made Migs ever got off the ground, while Israeli fighters, approaching from every angle of attack, swept in wave after wave, strafing and bombing aircraft and making impassable craters in Egyptian runways.

  Mark, oblivious to all but the precognition neuro-diviner technology directing his subconscious, watched everything in super slow motion, while the Mig 17s and 21s blew apart one after another. The fuel-laden jets exploded where they sat, erupting in massive red and yellow fireballs, as did the Tupelov and Ilyushin bombers while they sat in their parking spots.

  His companion in the front cockpit rode out the devastating blitz by the F-4E, awestruck at what he witnessed. He said nothing, letting the American pilot do what he came to do--decimate everything they could find that belonged to the Egyptian dictator.

  There would be time to find out what went wrong. Why the Mirage was attacked. What happened to its pilot. One thing sure--Maj. David Rashfer thought while he saw Mark destroy with obliterating precision everything he attacked--he had never seen such utter havoc as this single bird of war was wreaking upon the Egyptian Air Force.

  “Migs behind you, Moshi!” a voice from a Super Mirage crackled. But the F-4 had, through the American pilot’s oneness with the PND, programmed the maneuvers necessary to position itself behind the Migs, even before the Mirage pilot recognized the danger.

  The Phantom’s two J79-GE-17 engines went into afterburner, rolling, then looping, following the pilot’s thought process, which ran at many times normal speed. The Israeli pilot, unable to do anything other than ride out the maneuvers, anticipated at any moment the firing of 30-mm cannon, or the unleashing of any combination of devastating ordinance. Maybe one or more of the four AIM-7 Sparrow semi-active radar homing air-to-air missiles residing in semi-recessed slots in the fuselage belly… Or maybe one of four AIM-9 Sidewinder infra-red homing air-to-air missiles carried under the wings on the inboard pylons…

  To Rashfer’s astonishment, the Mig 21s began veering from each other. If it was a defensive move, it was unlike any he had ever seen. The Migs behaved erratically, as if pilotless. No shots had been fired, yet the Russian-made jets were now obviously out of control.

  Rashfer could see into the cockpits of both planes. They were empty!

  Chaos raged within the man-made cavern. Laura and Gessel Kirban watched in astonishment when the terrible, black human-forms suddenly left the bodies of the people wearing the PND helmets.

  Unearthly shrieks split the air when the Dimensionals departed Lori’s body, and those of the people sitting around the room. Excruciating pain raged within Laura’s and the scientist’s ears while they tried to make sense of the disturbances.

  Dark beings evacuated the chamber, the creatures passing through the rounded walls, fleeing through the domed ceiling, through the marble-tiled floor. The huge room glowed red, the many points of light along the walls blinking, the unseen machinery driving the complex humming ever louder, until it seemed the cave-like room would explode from the unbearable noise level.

  Laura fought to control her senses through the thumping, whining sound. She squinted through the increasing brightness to see her daughter upon the raised, chrome-like platform at the room’s center.

  Gessel Kirban held Laura’s right arm, and led her toward Lori, who had knelt to one knee and was holding herself up by the fingertips of both hands.

  “Oh, my baby!” Laura cried, holding her daughter, while Kirban gently rocked the helmet back and forth until it slipped from Lori’s head.

  “She will be fine, Mother,” the scientist said, his Israeli accented words intending comfort for both mother and daughter.

  He helped Laura take her daughter from the platform, then directed them toward the double doors 50 feet in the distance.

  Kirban searched their surroundings while he held one of the girl’s arms and they shuffled toward the doors. The dark beings attempted to again enter the room through solid walls, ceiling and floor. Each time a Dimensional stepped through the barriers, a brilliant explosion of electric-like static flashed and caused loud popping noises. The beings were opposed while they tried to reenter, as if a supernatural battle raged around the chamber’s perimeter.

  Smoke from electrical shortages saturated the air, filling their nostrils with the smell of ozone, and creating a Faustian surrealism while they moved closer to the doors. Kirban pushed the thumb latch on one of the gigantic steel doors and struggled to pull it open.

  The darkened hallway ahead looked clear, and the scientist tried to hurry the women along. Lori’s legs continued to suffer from the effects of the PND-induced trance, and the three of them moved more slowly from the chamber than Kirban wished.

  Laura screamed, a huge, human-shaped shadow having materialized in the hallway, blocking their way. The thing appeared to shrink in size, or dissipate, while they watched.

  Where the black entity had appeared, there now stood a man…one of the scientists from the chamber. Gerhardt Frobe!

  Frobe’s eyes blazed fiery red, his face a gnarled portrait of contorted evil while he stood in the center of the hallway. Smoke escaped from his clothing, from his hair. His mouth spoke, but not with the familiar German accent. The words rumbled from somewhere deep within.

  “You must not take our dearest girl from us,” the deep voice taunted in a whine, sounding as if it emanated from an echo chamber. “There are big plans for her, big things, indeed!”

  The voice was maniacal--the essence of virulent evil…

  “He’s got a gun!” Laura put herself between her daughter and the German scientist.

  “He is indwelt…it will do no good to try to reason,” Kirban said, he, too, stepping in front of the girl to protect her.

  “What can we do?” Laura said pleadingly, seeing the German’s blazing eyes, and hellishly twisted, grinning mouth.

  “What is there…to do?” the voice said, followed by a cackling chuckle that thundered somewhere down deep within the scientist. “Just give her to me, and you can be on your way.”

  “She does not belong with you, whatever you are,” the Israeli said. “We are taking her from this devilish place.”

  The German’s face glowed with an amber cast. At the same time, the flesh around his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks, grew shadowy. Almost imperceptible wisps of smoke spiraled from various points along the clothing he wore.

  The voice was again whiny, mocking.

  “She, like the others, has precisely what we seek. So, you see, she very much belongs here, with us.”

  “What are you doing here? What kind of unspeakable things are you doing?” Laura’s question blurted both with fear and rage, while she huddled with her daughter.

  “We shall become one with mankind once again. We shall not fail this time.”

  “And, what about this technology in which I was…deceived into believing was for military purposes? The precognition neuro-diviner…What is its true purpose in all of this?” the Israeli scientist asked.

  “Ah…don’t
you love the name?” the thing snickered. “Human science loves such high-sounding phraseology, doesn’t it? The precognition neuro-diviner…”

  The beast within paused, as if it were reaching for the explanation that most pleased it.

  “The PND does have military applications, does it not? You should know, Doctor--you helped develop it with unseen, unsuspected help from we …Dimensionals, of course.”

  The vile creature within the German spewed a burst of laughter through the scientist’s mouth.

  “And the other technologies? The R A P T U R E device …What is its true purpose?” Kirban asked.

  “Enough! That is not to be spoken of!” the voice said with vehemence. “The world will know in time. They will know…” The thing emitted a fading, echoing laugh.

  “Now, give me the young woman, if you do not mind.”

  “Never! You’ll have to kill me!” Laura screamed in Frobe’s face, starting to lurch toward the scientist. Kirban held out his arm to block her.

  Laura’s outburst brought thundering laughter from the beast within.

  “That, my dear Mommy, can certainly be arranged.”

  Gerhardt Frobe leveled the pistol at Laura. “One more opportunity--that’s all, Mom,” the thing said, sounding vicious while its words seethed through the German’s teeth. “Give her to me, or I shall off both you, and this Jew.”

  Frobe pointed the weapon at Laura and reached with his left hand to pull back the receiver, loading a round from the clip, into the chamber in preparation for firing. The German scientist’s eyes suddenly bulged as if they would explode from their sockets. A hand reached to grasp the wrist of the hand with the pistol. Frobe fell forward, landing on his face. A gleaming piece of metal protruded from his back.

  Laura’s eyes widened, seeing their rescuer standing just behind where the German had stood a moment before.

  “James,” she said meekly, just before everything went black.

  Chapter 15

  Egyptian air space was secured in the first 30 seconds of the attack. It had been an all-out assault by all Israeli first-line aircraft against what amounted to the major part of Arab air power.

  The Israeli forces had destroyed bases in the Sinai and Egyptian territory in a short, efficient, and decisive blow. Hundreds of Egyptian aircraft had been blown to pieces, including bombers, combat planes and helicopters. It had been done in less than 2 hours. The F-4E trailed the KC 135, the same plane Mark had ridden into Ben Gurion. The Phantom was force-fed jet fuel through the probe, to which was attached the long fuel line with its cone-shaped funnel.

  With the bird’s thirst sated, and the fuel line linkage detached, Rashfer set a course that would soon put them over Syrian air.

  Word came that Jordanian and Iraqi, as well as Syrian, aircraft had attacked into Israel. The few Israeli fighters left behind to defend had routed the intruders. Several Israeli fighter-bombers had then screamed to Jordanian airfields in Oman and Mafrak and destroyed a major portion of Jordan’s Air Force.

  Now, several Mirages and the F-4E with the name “Moshi” painted on its nose would deliver knock-out blows to Israel’s Syrian and Iraqi tormentors.

  “What happened to those Mig pilots?”

  The Israeli major’s voice crackled with static into Mark Lansing’s ears. With the PND turned off for the moment, Mark’s concentration was still reeling. He felt as if his mind had been drained of its energy.

  “What do you mean? Didn’t we get them?” the American asked.

  “The birds weren’t touched. We fired nothing. But, I saw into the cockpits. The pilots were not there.”

  “Repeat, please,” Mark said, trying to clear both his hearing and his thinking.

  “They were not in the cockpits,” Rashfer said, repeating each word slowly, and clearly.

  “Not there?”

  “That’s a Roger, Captain. They were not there. The birds crashed on their own, with nothing I could see wrong with them, except they had no pilots.”

  “And, you say we fired nothing at them? Not the Thirty’s, not the Sidewinders?”

  “As you see--the ordnance is still on board,” Rashfer said.

  “I don’t know, Major, I honestly don’t know.”

  Soon the F-4, accompanied by four Super-Mirage fighter-bombers, swept into Iraqi air territory. They were joined by other IF jets while they engaged and destroyed all opposition in the air and leveled enemy bases.

  Mark again wore the golden PND helmet, his brain at one with the technologies implanted within the bottom of the aircraft’s fuselage. While the Mirages fired every weapon they carried, the Phantom did not.

  David Rashfer, again sitting with nothing to do in the front seat, wondered with each dumbfounding downing of Mig 21s and Mig 17s by the Phantom, about a weapons system that could make aircraft go down without a shot being fired--could make pilots vanish into thin air…

  They attacked airfields in Syria that included Damascus, Damir and Seikel. They decimated Iraq’s H-3 airfield near the Jordanian border, eliminating, finally, all Arab opposition air power.

  In less than an hour and a half, the mission was done. Even the normally serious-natured Israeli couldn’t resist joining the fun.

  He, along with the pilots flying the Mirages, performed victory roll after victory roll over Damascus.

  Robert Cooper brooded in Gerhardt Frobe’s office, his fears rising. There would be no place to run--not if they truly wanted to get at him.

  He paced the room, his anxiety-riddled mind raging. The Dimensionals would not abide this breach of their stronghold. And, they knew his every thought, his every intention. He couldn’t get away from them, even in his most private thoughts.

  He wasn’t at fault. He had no idea what went wrong.

  Surely, they couldn’t, wouldn’t, blame him for…whatever had happened less than two hours earlier. He had no control over whatever had interfered with their activity within the chamber, where the precognition neuro-diviner and R A P T U R E technologies were being used to achieve their purposes--their goals.

  Something had short-circuited the channeling efforts, something totally unanticipated. The incantations, the meditation, broken by a force. What force? Whatever it had been, it drove the Dimensionals from the chamber, from within his own mind and body.

  But, they were only a dimension away--not extraterrestrial. They could, and would, simply step through the invisible fabric that separated time and space. They would have him by the throat any time they pleased.

  Why hadn’t they come for him? It would almost be better to confront them now than to stay immersed in fear of the encounter that might lie around the next dark corner. He had made his bargain, agreed to the terms. He was now acting director of Covert Operations for Defense. Soon he would be the fully sanctioned director.

  He had not caused the breach. It was not his actions that had put the dark beings from that netherworld to flight, sent them scattering like a flight of blackbirds whose gathering had been suddenly disturbed by shotgun fire…

  Cooper’s eyes cut in surprise to the phone on Frobe’s desk when the ringing shattered his near-panicked introspection.

  “Yes?” he said, picking up the receiver.

  “Secretary McNamara on the line, sir,” the woman’s voice said.

  “Bob?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary. Bob Cooper here.”

  He heard the Secretary of Defense say something to someone in the room back in D.C., then turn again to addressing him.

  “Bob. Have you heard the news from Israel?” McNamara said.

  “No, sir. Not really. Not the particulars,” Cooper said in a sheepish tone.

  “Well, it’s over. It was over in three hours.”

  “Oh? Does it look bad?” Cooper asked, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief.

  “Bad?!” Robert McNamara said with a laugh. “No! The Arabs were completely routed. It was a resounding success! And it was largely due to you and your project.”

  �
��That’s terrific, Mr. Secretary, really terrific. Glad to hear that.”

  “Listen, Bob,” McNamara interrupted. “We want you back here tomorrow. I’m sending a plane for you tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. I will be ready.”

  “Congratulations, Bob. You are now officially director of Covert Operations for Defense. We want to brief you on your new duties as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you. I will look forward to it.”

  Cooper hung up and grinned with smug self-satisfaction while he peered into the darkness. His government had officially promoted him. He was now more valuable to the Dimensionals than ever. He found strength, even a new force of purpose in the fact. Although the mission was a failure, Robert Cooper’s personal fortunes continued to rise…

  June 14, 1967

  Israeli Prime Minister Levi Eshkol looked at the result of the war that had lasted only six days. The report was prepared for him to address the people of Israel and the world.

  He poured over the statistics, a troubled look on his face, despite the staggering victory won against great odds. It ran through his mind how this victory, like the war for independence in 1948, and the battles since--like the attack by Nasser-led forces in 1956--was being proclaimed by religious Jews to be the direct intervention of God. He was not so sure that this was not the case.

  Still, the cost was considerable. He let his eyes scan the statistics. In storming the Golan Heights, Israel suffered 115 dead. Altogether, Israel lost 777 dead and 2,586 wounded.

  Despite the phenomenal--some claimed miraculous--victory in the brief air war, Israel lost 46 of its 200 aircraft. More than 20 pilots were killed, and a number were captured.

  On the positive side, the Prime Minister’s people who were supposed to know such things estimated that when the smoke of war finally cleared, Israel would have at least tripled its territorial size. This, of course, Eshkol calculated, meant that it “controlled,” not “owned,” the freshly won territory. The opinion of the world diplomatic community would be fierce in urging him to return the hard-won land. Already, four days earlier, they had forced a cease-fire.