by Terry James
She froze, paralyzed with remembrance of the day she and Ginger Knox walked toward the University of Texas tower. The man with the field glasses! The nightmares of the large hulking figure that watched her… always the vacuuming wind that tried to draw her to him.
The man at the observation window turned and trained the binoculars on her. She forced her gaze from her self-imposed paralysis and grabbed Mark’s arm.
“Mark! That man!”
“What man?” Mark saw his wife’s terrified expression.
“That man with the binoculars…” She pointed toward the crowd that continued to look out over the busy tarmac.
“I don’t see anybody with binoculars, Hon,” he said, continuing to look into the crowd.
Lori frantically searched, her eyes wide and darting toward the group, then around the observation area.
The man was gone!
Boston, Massachusetts – September 11, 2001 –7:05 a.m.
Her husband’s retirement as pastor of a small church near Sharkton and the sizable inheritance left him by Aunt Annabel Lee Mitford freed them to do things others could not. She must never forget to thank the Lord for His goodness, for the three children and five terrific grandchildren He had provided. Susie Banyon silently did so now.
Christopher and Susie had enjoyed the trip to Texas. San Antonio was spreading in every direction, and things had changed since he left St. Paul Church all those years ago.
“We should get to Portland by 10 at the latest,” he said, touching his wife’s arm.
“Should be in Sharkton by 11. It will be good to get home to Mitford House,” Susie said. “But, I’ll still miss San Antonio, and our friends--especially Randy and Ruth,” she added.
“The kids will be glad to see Grandma,” the retired minister said, stroking Susie’s arm, then taking her hand and holding it, while they sat in the lobby of Logan Airport, awaiting their boarding call.
“Grandpa, too,” she said.
“Wish Laura and James could’ve come to visit this fall, like we planned,” Christopher said.
“James probably won’t make it past the winter,” Susie said. “The Alzheimer’s has really begun to affect his mind.”
“Yes. With Clark Lansing dying last year of the same thing, you have to wonder,” Christopher said. “I guess it’s a miracle, after undergoing that RAPTURE technology--the Transmolecular experiments--and then the device they wore for so long… the PND, especially Clark, that they’ve lived so long.”
“It’s strange, the way the government provides for them, no questions. Why did they never investigate things surrounding James’ supposed crash, then his reappearance?” Susie wondered aloud.
“That colonel…Kenyon, I think was his name, must have had powerful friends. Just swept everything under the rug, as they say, then, next thing you know, James and Laura, as well as Clark, had no worries for the rest of their lives. Something to do with the Defense Department, and its Covert Operations. I do know that much. A small price for them to pay to see to it that the whole thing is just dropped.”
Christopher contemplated the entire matter during a few moments of silence, then spoke again. “Of course, it’s all within God’s will. It seems weird, the whole thing--how everything, the strange experiences, the other-worldliness…it all just seemed to cease. Yet, the scroll fragments, they plainly foretold that the end had begun once the scrolls were discovered.”
“James, Lori, Mark, Clark--they came to know the Lord, that’s the main thing,” Susie said.
Her husband pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Your faith helped change all of us,” he said, looking into the soft brown eyes, and the alabaster-skinned features, the beauty of which still made his heart race.
“It was a good reunion, wasn’t it?” Susie said.
“Yes. But, I do wish I could’ve talked one more time with Dr. Kirban,” Christopher said, a frown of concentration crossing his face.
“I would like to ask him more about those technologies. How they seemed to work within the very souls of people.”
“Dr. Kirban died of the same thing, Laura said his daughter told her. Alzheimer’s…”
“It all seems like a dream now, a bad dream, mostly. But, some good friendships came out of it,” Christopher said.
“I wonder what it all meant. The dreams, or visions, they’ve stopped,” Susie said.
“They were real. And, the dreams…they still have significance. I just don’t know what they mean for today,” he said, standing. “The Lord will have to let us know, when He’s ready.”
He sat down again, after stretching.
“It’s hard to believe that Mark is retired from Delta Airlines, now. And, that Lori is happy just being a mother and grandmother.”
“What do you mean it’s hard to believe that she’s happy ‘JUST’ being a mother and grandmother?” Susie said with feigned irritation. She said then, in a more nostalgic tone, “Aren’t they a happy pair?”
“Still just like when they were looking moon-eyed at each other all those years ago,” Christopher said with a smile.
“We’re still a lot like back then,” Susie said.
“Maybe a little slower, and with a few more aches, but, yes…we’ve still got it,” Christopher said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “One thing, though, I can’t wait as long as I used to on some things. I’d better go to the men’s room before our boarding time.”
He stood. “I won’t be long,” he said, then walked across the broad concourse walkway, amazed at the amount of human traffic, with people hurrying in every direction. The sights and sounds of the terminal triggered deja vu, while he walked into the little hallway.
He felt a bit lightheaded, and when he reached the door to the men’s room, he paused for a moment, bracing himself against the wall. He held his arm straight and stiff, the heel of his hand supporting his weight on the wall’s surface.
Several seconds later his mind cleared, and he walked into the outer, then the double inner doors. The dizziness came again, and he looked through whirling memories at familiar surroundings. Familiar surroundings, yet surroundings that he knew he had not experienced. Or had he?
Christopher walked to the sink, wet his hands, and splashed his face with cool water. He looked in the mirror while he dried his hands and face with a paper towel. Again, deja vu hearkened his memory to something in the past…
He heard a toilet flush, and within moments the stall’s door opened, and a man who looked to be about 60, dressed casually for travel, walked from the stall, paused a moment, glanced at his watch, then at Christopher.
“Pardon me, sir,” the man said in accented English. “Could you be so kind as to tell me the time, please?”
The dark-eyed man, more than likely of Middle Eastern extraction, Christopher thought, looked again at his own watch.
“It’s 7:21, according to my watch,” Christopher said.
“Thank you very much, sir,” the man said, twisted the stem of his watch, then exited the men’s room.
Christopher felt uneasy. And, it wasn’t just the queasiness in his stomach. Something about the man…
Christopher walked to the big trashcan sitting in the corner near the edge of a row of wash-basins. He wadded the paper towel and started to toss it in the can atop other refuse.
It came back to him, then. A sudden rush of realization. He reached into the can and picked up one of three small boxes. It was a product package, marked with the words “Box Cutter” and a picture of the instrument.
His senses darkened. What was it about? The man…the man had walked into the men’s room during his weird experience at Logan all those years ago. It was that man…it was this men’s room!
Only that was then…this was now. The year 2001, not 1967!
He picked up the other packages. All small, rectangular boxes that had contained box cutters. He ran his index finger in one of the boxes. He pulled from it a credit card receipt that had been stuffed there.
&nb
sp; “Pardon me, sir, are you Christopher Banyon?”
The black man stood holding the inner door open.
“Yes, yes I am,” Christopher answered.
“Your wife, she asked me to tell you that your boarding time has been announced.”
“Thanks,” Christopher said, glancing again at the trash-can and the packages.
Susie tugged him toward the boarding area by the shirtsleeve. “I thought you were never coming out, Chris. What were you doing in there?”
“How long was I in there?”
“Almost 20 minutes,” she said leading the way past the crowd toward the American Airlines counter.
When they got in line, his attention was drawn toward another American Airlines counter across the concourse walkway. His eyes fell upon three men--young men--familiar men…
Christopher couldn’t fathom how he could possibly realize such a thing. How he could remember…they were the three he had seen 34 years earlier, the dark-complected guys who had been in the men’s room!
A fourth man talked to them while they stood in the American boarding check line. The same person who had asked for the time in the men’s room; the same one who had come back in the men’s room in the vision in 1967? Yes…the same!
“What’s wrong, Chris?” Susie asked, seeing her husband’s face go pale, and his dazed expression. “Are you sick?”
“No,” he said, looking hard at the four men. “At least, I don’t think I am,” he said, as if to himself.
The bene elohim…He had seen it in the vision that day in the restroom at Logan. A different men’s room than the one he entered that day, the same one as existed now, not 50 feet from where he stood…in 2001.
The creature…it had walked out of and back into the man that day in 1967. The same man who talked to the three younger men in the American Airlines check-in counter line.
The three packages, they were proof positive. Proof his vision 34 years earlier, and the actual experience just minutes ago, were real. And, somehow related one to another!
Could it be?!
The credit card ticket…! The ticket he took from the product box…what had he done with it?
Christopher patted his pockets, feeling the crumpled piece of paper in his right pants pocket. He withdrew it and straightened it. He read the name on the ticket: “Mustafa Kihbolah.”
A Look At: The Second Coming Chronicles—Book 2
By Terry James
The Nephilim Imperatives: Dark Sentences brings focus to the sinister movement toward a paradigm shift for inhabitants of Planet Earth.
A horrific storm crashes above the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Supernatural terror injects its murderous anger into the dawning millennium. Work done decades ago by other-worldly forces infect and afflict the human kind as in antediluvian ages.
Sinister operatives within governments are at work on projects beyond the clandestine objectives of the black operations at the heart of America’s covert intrigues.
Planet Earth hangs in the balance, while Luciferian intentions move swiftly to once again genetically change the creature called man. Thus, to achieve a new paradigm once attempted, but prevented by world-wide cataclysm.
COMING SOON FROM CKN CHRISTIAN PUBLISHING
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Terry James
About Terry James
Terry James is author, general editor, and co-author of numerous books on Bible prophecy, hundreds of thousands of which have been sold worldwide. James is a frequent lecturer on the study of end time phenomena, and interviews often with national and international media on topics involving world issues and events as they might relate to Bible prophecy.
He has appeared in major documentaries and media forums, in all media formats, in America, Europe, and Asia.
He appeared in the History Channel series, The Nostradamus Effect.
He is an active member of the PreTrib Research Center Study Group, a prophecy research think-tank founded by Dr. Tim LaHaye, the co-author of the multi-million selling “Left Behind” series of novels. He is a regular participant in the annual Tulsa mid-America prophecy conference, where he speaks, and holds a Question and Answer series of sessions on current world events as they might relate to Bible prophecy.
Terry James has been blind since 1993 due to a degenerative retinal disease (retinitis pigmentosa). He uses the Jobs Accessible Word System (JAWS) –which is voice synthesis—to write and conduct business over the Internet.
His former profession was in public relations, advertising, marketing, and publicity and promotion.
He received his education from Arkansas Polytechnic Institute, Memphis Academy of Arts, and University of Arkansas at Little Rock.
He served in both corporate and government positions for 25 years, before becoming a full-time writer.
James also served in the United States Air Force from October 1966 through October 1970.) He served at Randolph AFB, Texas, in the T-38 section, a mission dedicated to training pilots in high-performance jet fighter-trainers.
Terry James and his wife, Margaret, live near Little Rock, Arkansas.
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