Apocalypse Dawn

by Mel Odom

  “I thought the believers would have all been raptured.”

  “They will have,” Tamara said softly. “I believe they have been. But there will be new believers, Jim. Don’t you see? You’re asking questions now that you would have never asked before.”

  Jim broke eye contact by reaching for his coffee cup. He was surprised at how much his hand shook as he lifted it. This was too much. It was all coming too fast.

  When the Klaxon rang, he spilled a little of the tepid liquid in his lap.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” Colonel Hatton announced over the PA system. “The Russians have taken to the air. We’ve just escalated from DEFCON 3 to DEFCON 2.”

  The colonel’s words hammered Jim’s mind, shattering his thoughts and crystallizing his fear. DEFCON 2 meant that B-52s, escort fighters, and supply planes would take off and prepare to strike Russian targets. He gazed in wide-eyed disbelief as the Stratofortresses he had onscreen suddenly jerked to life and hurtled down runways.

  “Jim,” Tamara said.

  “Yeah,” he replied in a thick voice.

  “You okay?”

  “We’re watching what could be the end of the world. Do you know that?”

  “It won’t be the end,” she stated quietly. “There’s a lot that will happen before that happens. Things will get much worse.”

  “Worse than the end of the world?”

  “Yes.”

  As Jim watched, the B-52s leaped into the air, clawing their way into the night skies like birds of prey. Even peering down on them on the large monitor, the flying dreadnoughts looked sleek and deadly when they should have looked more like a child’s toys. “Do you think God planned for DEFCON?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think happens to the people who die after the Rapture?” Tamara quietly thought. “I think it depends on how their relationship with God has changed.”

  “And if it hasn’t changed?”

  “I don’t think things would go very well for them.”

  Jim nodded. “If we live through tonight, do you think we could talk more about this?”

  Tamara reached over and gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Sure.”

  24

  The Mediterranean Sea

  USS Wasp

  Local Time 0937 Hours

  DEFCON 2, Chaplain Delroy Harte thought to himself as he jogged aft through Wasp’s second level. God, look over me as I strive to bring Your message to frightened and paranoid ears.

  The chaplain hurried through the large mess hall, past the officer’s wardroom that functioned as a restaurant or theater or town hall or conference room depending on the scheduled need, until he reached the command and control centers caged protectively under the ship’s island structure for extra defense.

  The C&C areas remained dark, but the glow of computer monitors and large display screens warred with the gloomy shadows that filled Wasp’s bowels. Men spoke quietly, and their voices punctuated the steady hum of computer mainframes and peripheral devices.

  Seven theaters of operation existed within the C&C post. The Tactical Air Control Center monitored the airspace around the Amphibious Readiness Group and assigned the daily flight sheets, matching men and machines as well as zones and time frames. The Tactical Logistics Group managed the onboard supplies, weapons, and vehicles as well as the debarkation of the Marine troops. Information was cleared and stored in the Joint Intelligence Center, and hard-drive space was filled with information concerning the world if Wasp was ever cut off from the Pentagon as she had been before Captain Remington had managed the coup with the Romanian communications network. The Ship Signals Exploitation Space was shut off from nearly everyone aboard ship because of the degree of secrecy involved in using enemy signals against those enemies. When involved in heavy operations that could threaten Wasp, the ARG commander and staff stayed in the Flag Plot deep within the ship where they could most be protected.

  The Landing Force Operations Center was jam-packed with hightech computer systems that tied the Marine commander of the MEU(SOC) with embarked Marine units while away from the ship. From there, fed with the information from spy-sats and in constant communications with his away teams, Colonel Henry Donaldson, the MEU(SOC)’s commander-in-chief, could direct all action his Marines took.

  Two Marines stood guard in front of the door. They held their assault weapons at port arms.

  “Chaplain Harte,” one of the Marines greeted.

  Delroy drew himself up tall and straight. Before leaving his quarters, he’d showered and shaved and put on a fresh uniform. Before telling Colonel Donaldson and Captain Falkirk what he had to tell them, he wanted to look his Navy best. Appearance counted for a lot in the military.

  But he also carried his father’s old Bible. To Delroy, the creases in the imitation leather cover and the dog-eared pages were hash marks and medals of valor in a service that had gone largely unnoticed outside Josiah Harte’s community. Maybe the uniform was his armor, but the Bible was his shield and buckler.

  “Sergeant,” Delroy replied. “I need to speak with Colonel Donaldson.”

  The sergeant looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir. Colonel Donaldson left strict orders that he was not to be disturbed.”

  “‘Not to be disturbed?’” Delroy couldn’t believe it. His anger and frustration seeped through his grip before he could restrain them. “We just lost hundreds of Marines along the Turkish border, Sergeant. The United States is at DEFCON 2, preparing to possibly go to war with Russia because that country is certain we’re responsible for the disappearances that have taken place there. Can anything be more disturbing?”

  The young sergeant blinked in shock and confusion. “Sir, I—”

  “Sergeant,” Delroy put the crisp clear tone of command in his voice as he stepped forward, “do you see these bars and that star on my shoulder?”

  “Yes, sir.” The Marine backed down slightly but didn’t give up much ground.

  “I am a commander in the United States Navy,” Delroy said.

  “Yes, sir. I know that, sir. But I was given orders by my colonel that—”

  “Son,” Delroy said in a quietly fierce voice, “either you let the colonel make the decision whether or not to see me, or I’m going to walk right over top of you.”

  The sergeant braced at that. The private accompanying him took a step away and circled Delroy. The chaplain stood his ground. At six and a half feet tall, driven as he was by the need to tell what he knew to be true, Delroy knew he must have presented a fearsome figure to the men.

  The ship’s crew still told about times Delroy had waded into fights aboard ship and in taverns off base and broke up fights between military personnel. He’d even broken up a fight involving two Navy SEALs that had earned him a lot of respect among his fellow military men, although the number of the Special Forces men had grown in the telling over the years. Wasp took pride in having a two-fisted chaplain.

  “Sir—”

  “Sergeant!” Delroy’s voice came out in a bellow. “I said open that door! And I mean now, mister!”

  The sergeant stood resolute in front of the door, shifting the rifle to better use the weapon as a club if he had to.

  Delroy knew he had the attention of several men around him. He almost felt embarrassed. Then he remembered how Chief Mellencamp’s body had disappeared from inside the body bag, and how there had been loose piles of uniforms scattered around Wasp. The text from Numbers 32:23 came to his mind: “But if you do not do so, then take note, you have sinned against the Lord; and be sure your sin will find you out.” He knew he couldn’t back away from the task that had been laid before him. The chief’s passing and the responsibility of the letter and the disappearance of the body while he’d been there to bear witness; those events hadn’t been by accident.

  And what about Terry? Delroy’s conviction wavered a little when he thought about his son’s passing. He steeled himself. Terry’s death couldn’t mean nothing. He wouldn�
��t let it. Surely even there he would find God’s hand. Surely he could believe in that after everything that had happened today.

  The door behind the sergeant yanked open.

  “What’s going on here, Sergeant?” Colonel Donaldson stood ramrod straight, looking fresh as a daisy despite the fact he’d been up long, hard hours preparing for the Marine wing’s insertion into Turkey.

  Nineteen years a Marine, Donaldson looked every inch of his calling. He stood a couple inches over six feet with the compact and wiry build of a good second baseman. His sandy colored hair was thinning on top, although that was partially masked by the flattop crew cut, and going gray at the temples. Camo BDUs outlined the hard lines of his body.

  “Chaplain Harte,” the sergeant said. “He wanted to see you.”

  Delroy’s breath came hard and fast, and he could feel his heart blast-pumping in his chest.

  Donaldson eyed the chaplain with challenge and curiosity, though there was more of the former than the latter. “Is that right, Chaplain?”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  Donaldson’s chin rose as he stepped out into the hallway. His big hand wrapped around his jaw, and his stubble crackled. “I don’t know what could possibly prompt you to interrupt a planning session I’m having, Commander. Especially after I gave specific orders no one was supposed to get in.”

  “Sir,” Delroy said, straightening. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but rest assured that I wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  For a fleeting moment, Delroy felt afraid. It was a natural reaction, given the circumstances. He’d hoped to persuade Captain Falkirk and Colonel Donaldson to grant him a few minutes alone to explain his reasoning.

  He hadn’t expected the audience he had in the men stationed in the C&C centers around them.

  “Yes, sir,” Delroy said. “I wonder if we might talk in private.”

  Donaldson folded his arms across his broad chest. “This is fine for me, Chaplain Harte.”

  Delroy felt the colonel’s anger, saw the white-hot emotion edged in the sharp angles of the man’s body. Most of that anger, the chaplain reasoned, wasn’t directed at him but was just seeking a target the same way water constantly sought the lowest level.

  “Yes, sir. I see that, sir.” Delroy gripped his father’s Bible in both hands. He took strength from the book, and in his mind he heard his father, thundering from the pulpit as he presented God’s love and the fiery threat of hell and eternal damnation to his congregation.

  Terry’s voice was in there, too, words ripped from the morning that Terry had shipped out for the battlefield. Despite his training, despite what faith he’d possessed, Delroy had been frightened, and Terry saw that emotion in him. “Don’t be afraid, Dad. I’m not. You see, I believe in you and I believe in God. Between Him and you, how can anything happen to me?”

  But something had happened, and Terry had never come home again. How could God want something like that to happen to a boy who had hardly gotten to live any of his life?

  “Well?” Donaldson prompted impatiently.

  The colonel’s obvious willingness to make an example out of Delroy almost broke his nerve. But he felt his father’s hard-used Bible in his hands. Leviticus 5:1 had been a favorite passage of Josiah Harte’s when he was talking to his congregation about the need and duty to bear witness to the works of the Lord. And if a soul sin, and hear the voice of swearing, and is a witness, whether he hath seen or known of it; if he do not utter it, then he shall bear his iniquity.

  “I know how those people disappeared,” Delroy said in a voice that almost broke. He felt ashamed of himself. Here he was, testifying to the works of the Lord God, holding his own father’s Bible, and he acted as tremulous as a child.

  “I’d like to hear this,” Colonel Donaldson said. “Especially since military intelligence doesn’t have a clue, even with all the technology they control at their fingertips.”

  “The disappearance of those men wasn’t through technology, Colonel.” Delroy struggled, barely keeping his voice under control. “Their removal from this world was divine.”

  Donaldson cursed. “They weren’t removed from this world. They were murdered, and—”

  Delroy cut the Marine colonel off. “Not murdered. Sir.” He took a breath, barely able to maintain eye contact with the man. “Those people who have gone missing around the world, they were taken from this world by the hand of God.”

  A rumble of conversation from the men in the C&C units filled the hallway.

  “Chaplain!” Donaldson roared. “You’ll cease and desist announcements like that this instant!”

  Mouth dry, heart beating frantically, Delroy said, “I can’t do that, sir. God insists that we bear witness to the miracles that He has wrought in our lives so that we might influence others to look within their own lives for works that He has done. If I don’t talk about this, I’ll be doing a disservice to God and to the men of this ship. I took an oath to serve the people I was responsible for, and from the looks of this ship and the fact that not everyone here was taken, I still have work to do.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Donaldson said hoarsely.

  “No, sir,” Delroy disagreed. “I’ve just stopped hiding from the truth. God has shown me something and I am paying attention.”

  No one spoke in the hallway. Delroy knew he had the ear of every man in the centers.

  “Chaplain, I order you to return to your quarters,” Donaldson said. “You will remain under house arrest until such time as I—”

  “No, sir,” Delroy replied.

  Donaldson’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Are you refusing the direct order of a superior officer, Chaplain Harte?”

  “I have been,” Delroy admitted, “until today. But I won’t turn away from him anymore. Not when there are so many left behind that can be saved.”

  “Chaplain—” Donaldson’s voice raised in obvious warning.

  “The proof is right there in front of you, Colonel. You have but to open your eyes to see.” Delroy held his father’s Bible up before him. “I can show you chapter and verse where God made a covenant to return for his blessed chosen and reap them from this world.”

  “Chaplain, I don’t know what you think you’re trying to prove, but—”

  “I’m not trying to prove anything,” Delroy said. “I am trying to acknowledge the hand of God Almighty in the course of these events that have changed the face of the world in the last hour and a half.”

  “Sergeant,” Donaldson said.

  “Sir.”

  “Arrest that man.”

  “Yes, sir.” The sergeant started forward.

  Delroy slapped the Bible against the young Marine’s chest, trapping his assault rifle there. “Don’t you dare,” the chaplain advised.

  The Marine halted.

  “God put me here today,” Delroy said, staring into the young man’s eyes, “to bear witness to what has truly happened because there are none so blind as those who will not see.” He looked over the sergeant’s shoulder at Donaldson. “I want you to listen to me, Colonel. Things are going to get much worse than you see now. The Antichrist will rise up now that the Rapture has taken place. He will rise up and fill the world with lies and treachery for seven years, and the souls of men will be tried as they have never been tried before.”

  In an obviously practiced move, Donaldson drew the M9 pistol from the holster at his hip. The safety clicked off as the barrel centered on Delroy’s face. “Chaplain,” the Marine colonel said in a cold voice, “you’ll shut your mouth now or I’ll put a bullet through your face.”

  Delroy stared death squarely in the eye and never blinked. He’d been in contact with it before. Each time he’d felt that always-present fear that he wouldn’t come back home alive, that he would be crippled for life. But now, staring down the muzzle of the M9, he felt calm and relaxed.

  “Thirty-one percent of our c
rew is missing,” Delroy said. “More of them went missing in Turkey, and the survivors are stranded with the very armies they went in to save. Our world is hovering on the brink of a nuclear war between the United States and Russia. And you threaten to kill me?” The chaplain couldn’t help it; he laughed, and the sound rolled through the C&C areas. “Have you ever read Revelation, Colonel? Do you even know what’s in store for the world now that this has happened?”

  Donaldson held the pistol rock steady.

  “Threatening to kill me doesn’t scare me,” Delroy went on. “I was left behind after the Rapture. The only way to my salvation now is through God’s love and mercy. And if I can’t have those, dying now will be a lot simpler than struggling to live through the dark days that are coming.”

  Cursing again, Donaldson shoved the sergeant away with his free hand and stood with the M9 held in a Weaver stance. “Disobeying a direct order from a commanding officer during a time that might be construed as wartime can get you executed on the spot.”

  Delroy gazed at the man, understanding more about what drove him. “You’re afraid.”

  A nervous tic started in Donaldson’s left eye. “Shut up,” he snarled.

  “You’ve been through battles and wars.” Delroy discovered he couldn’t shut up. The truth seemed to course in his veins. “But all of that hasn’t prepared you for something like this.”

  “Shut. Up.” A slight tremble shook the M9 in Donaldson’s grip.

  “You feel it, don’t you, Colonel?” Delroy asked. “You know that I’m telling you the truth. You know.”

  Donaldson’s hand shook more, and his knuckle whitened over the trigger.

  “Colonel Donaldson!” The voice whip-cracked through the C&C. Without turning, Delroy knew Captain Mark Falkirk had stepped out of the Combat Information Center only a short distance away. The CIC held all the computers and information systems the ship’s captain needed to run operations aboard Wasp while she was active on a mission.