Rapture Advent of the Last Days

by Jocolby Phillips

  “My apologies, ma’am, but I’m sure you understand. By the way, please call me Jackson.”

  “Yes, our apologies. I think we should have better coordinated the recognition signal before you departed Tel Aviv,” Christopher added, extending his hand to Gilana and Uri.

  “No hard feelings,” Uri replied. “It’s part of the business.”

  “We can kiss and make up later. Let’s get going,” Gilana urged. “We need to get to Babylon before it gets dark.”

  “Now there’s some fire that could get you going in the morning. Gilana reminds me of that little firecracker back home named Gabriella,” Jackson said quietly to Christopher.

  “Get in before Gilana beats you down,” Christopher said, throwing a duffel bag at Jackson.

  * * *

  Gabriella tried calling both Christopher and Jackson’s communicators, but voicemail picked up each time. She was desperate after receiving Barnes’s message that he had arrived at Babylon and was assessing the security situation. She had a feeling that Christopher and Jackson were heading right into a trap set by Barnes, so she tried calling again. Still nothing.

  “Ugh, why are you not answering?” she shouted.

  “You okay? I heard you from down the hall,” Gemma asked a moment later as she poked her head into the office.

  “I’ll be fine, just trying to reach some friends,” Gabriella responded.

  “Well, I’ll leave you, but just so you know, Mr. Cross is about to speak in Rome. He will be heading back to New York with Evan right after his speech.”

  “Thanks. I’ll meet you in the conference room in a few minutes,” Gabriella promised.

  Gabriella tried calling Christopher and Jackson one more time, but there was again no answer, so she decided to send them another message, warning them of the danger at Babylon.

  She wrote, “I don’t know why you’ve had your communicators off for the last twenty-four hours, but don’t go to Babylon. I’m sure that’s where President Rodgers has you guys going, but don’t go. Call me when you get this message.”

  Sighing as she laid her quantum communicator on her desk, she went to the conference room to watch Draven Cross address the World Religious Leaders Conference. She could do nothing else now but hope for the best as evening approached in the Middle East.

  * * *

  Draven had been shaken by the power displayed by the two witnesses at the Temple Mount. He had never in his life been confronted by a person or a situation that had caused such fear to rise within him, but he had been comforted by the Prince of This World this morning in a lucid dream. “You will have your revenge against the two agents of our enemy. Use the attack to push the world toward one religion.”

  As Cross moved to the podium to address the religious leaders, he grabbed his throat as he tried to shut the thought of the two witnesses out of his mind. The applause of the audience died down as they saw him, for the first time since his ascension, appearing to be vulnerable.

  “I am honored to stand before you today. As the world witnessed yesterday, two religious fanatics claiming to be representatives of God attacked me. The men released a still unknown incapacitating agent into the air, and I took the brunt of the weapon as I stepped forward to protect the audience gathered for the Temple ceremony.”

  Applause erupted after hearing Draven’s account of the events. With feigned humility, he gestured for the crowd to be silent and continued his speech.

  “Despite the cowardly and unprovoked incident yesterday, I still believe spirituality has a place in our society. However, unyielding religious dogma and traditions are unacceptable. My spirits were buoyed yesterday in my hospital room upon learning from Mr. Mallory that this conference of religious leaders has unanimously agreed to converge all of the world’s traditions under a single faith, an Interfaith vision.” The crowd roared in approval.Draven allowed the applause to proceed for a few moments before finishing his speech. “The last two months have been difficult. The losses we have experienced can never be forgotten. Yet I see many bright spots for our future. The global economy is stabilizing. I am proud to have led the other world leaders into the implementation of bringing the world markets under three currencies and ultimately a single currency, thus preventing a crushing global recession. I hope to announce shortly an initiative to centralize the governance of the world to further reduce the chances of war or exploitation in this time of unprecedented change. Cleanup around the world will likely to continue for some time. However, I am pleased to see new construction projects emerging from the rubble of the past.

  “We will not let the gloom and doom of a few religious fanatics and critics prevent us from achieving universal peace. The efforts made here over the last week will have a lasting effect on generations to come. I salute you for moving past petty differences in leading the world toward a better place. Thank you, and may peace reign on Earth.” Draven Cross waved to the now united world faith clergy.

  On his way out of the conference room, Cross told Evan, “My consolidation over all elements of societal power is nearly complete. All that’s left now is to eliminate the American-led conspirators, and that will be accomplished soon enough.”

  * * *

  Christopher had slept during the entire trip from Baghdad to Hilah, Iraq, a city near the ancient ruins of Babylon and the Mossad’s safe house location. The fresh smell of pita bread and hot shawarma flooded the van, making the major realize it had been hours since he had last eaten.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” Jackson said. “You want shawarma? We’re making a pit stop before going to the safe house. We only have a couple of hours before sundown.”

  “Sure, I’m starving. Where are Gilana and Uri?” Christopher asked.

  “They’re across the street in that little restaurant, picking up food. They suggested we stay in the van and out of sight considering we stand out like a baboon’s butt.”

  Laughing, Christopher replied, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your remarkably unique way of expressing yourself. Look, here come Gilana and Uri.”

  The pair jumped in the van and quickly took off, Uri’s eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

  “What’s up? Is someone after us?” Christopher asked.

  “No, but we did learn that a small team of Westerners who were dressed like soldiers, according to the store clerk, arrived at the construction site earlier today. Security has been light the last few weeks, to say the least, so we’re worried that someone knows you guys are coming,” Uri responded.

  “We’ll need to consider this reconnaissance plan again before we do anything else,” Gilana said.

  Uri zipped along Highway 8 and the mighty Euphrates River before exiting across from a large artificial lake constructed by the long-deposed Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein. He brought the vehicle to a stop near the gate of a two-story earthen private home, with a towering six-foot mud-brick fence enclosing the property.

  “Wait here,” Gilana instructed as she and Uri exited the vehicle, moved through the gate, and walked away into the compound in opposite directions.

  Christopher and Jackson watched as the orange disk of the sun began sinking toward the horizon, leaving everything coated in the deep red-orange of a desert sunset.

  “Let’s go, move quickly,” Gilana ordered, tapping on a van window.

  Christopher and Jackson slipped out of the van and into the small but well-furnished safe house. While the Israelis had gone to great lengths to blend in with the few neighbors on the outside, the inside of the safe house had a couple of sofas, large flat-screen television, and several Western-style beds.

  “You folks sure know how to rough it,” Jackson teased.

  Uri laughed. “There is no need to suffer while doing your duty.”

  Christopher had already found the stairs leading to the roof, a common feature of many Middle Eastern homes. As he came out onto the rooftop, he was awestruck by the view the safe house afforded him. Across the lake, the ongoing construction
of the new U.E. headquarters was clearly visible. The distant ancient ruins of Babylon were stunning against the backdrop of the sun sinking below the horizon of the Euphrates.

  The major found himself hoping that tonight went smoothly. He wished that the last two months had been a bad dream, that he was in Iraq, preparing to rescue a journalist from ISIS instead of trying to locate the headquarters of the new leader of the world. Gilana’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  “You should get some rest. It’s impossible to know what tonight holds.”

  “I’ll be down in a second,” Christopher replied, watching the last shimmers of sunlight dance off the ruins of Babylon and hoping for the best.

  * * *

  From the climate-controlled comfort of the U.E. security and operations center located in Saddam’s former summer palace, which overlooked the entire Babylon complex, John Barnes watched darkness settle over the installation of passive infrared motion sensors near a potential outer wall breach. A vein along the side of his head bulged as he remembered his arrival earlier today at the U.E. HQ construction site. He had found the local security forces foreman sleeping and had angrily kicked the legs out from under the man’s chair, causing him to yelp as he scrambled to get to his feet.

  “Get up, you lazy dog!” Barnes yelled. “You people are all the same. I should kill you for sleeping. You do realize how important this construction site is, don’t you?”

  “Sorry, sorry, sir, but everything is good,” the foreman had assured in broken English.

  “We will see. Get in the truck!” Barnes screamed, cursing the man roundly as they drove around the site. “Stop here. What is that?” He pointed to a large mound of dirt that sat along the outer wall of the complex. “And tell me we have some sort of surveillance on that area,” he intoned threateningly.

  “No need for surveillance. That is the place where the construction teams bring in their dirt,” the man responded.

  Barnes slapped the man across the head and cursed him, telling him to fix it.

  He had called Gabriella earlier to find out if she could pinpoint Omega’s location in the Middle East. She’d responded that she didn’t know any more than she had already told him, but Barnes couldn’t shake the feeling that they were coming to this site. He had to be ready.

  “Tell those men to hurry up out there, or they will answer to me. I want that job done before dark. I want to be ready for any visitors we might have,” Barnes said.

  * * *

  Christopher had gotten only a few restless hours of sleep before Uri came into the room where he and Jackson were bunked to wake them. “Time to plan and get ready to go, my friends.”

  Jackson, as usual, was snoring.

  “How can you sleep like that? I mean, you’re out like a light when we could be heading off to our deaths,” Christopher questioned, poking his sleeping friend.

  “You should know better than anybody why I can rest and be at peace. Let me jog your memory. ‘He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.’”

  “Psalm 91, Rev’s favorite Bible chapter, especially before a mission,” Christopher said.

  “Exactly. No matter what happens tonight, I know who’s with me, even after this life. That’s a great comfort, my friend. Now stop worrying. We will be fine.

  Without responding to Jackson’s optimism, Christopher followed him out to the living room where Uri and Gilana had laid out a large map of the construction site. Without even asking how the two had slept, Gilana jumped right into the planning for their mission.

  “Okay, so here are my thoughts for tonight. We drive to Highway 8 across from the man-made lake. Once there, Christopher and Jackson, you two will walk toward a large mound of dirt that covers the outside wall.” She pointed to a spot on the map as Christopher uploaded the grid coordinates to his GPS device. “I will then drive Uri to a drop point near the Ishtar Gate. Uri’s job will be to serve as a second set of eyes and an emergency distraction, if needed. I will stay with the vehicle here.” She pointed to a second location along the tourist road to Babylon. “I’ll monitor the radio and provide quick extraction, if needed. You have two hours on target and then must head back to the van. Any questions?”

  “How will Uri create that distraction, if needed?” Christopher asked.

  “Follow me,” Gilana said, walking into what looked like a breakfast nook and pushing on the wall, which swung open to reveal a hidden room. She turned to her partner and said, “Uri, grab the Doorbell.” Christopher and Jackson watched as Uri walked into a small arsenal and grabbed a U.S. AT4 recoilless rifle, also called the Doorbell.

  Jackson walked into the room after Uri, saying with a laugh, “I am happier than a hog that fell into the slop trough by himself. I’ll take one of these and two of these.” He grabbed a G36 rifle and two antipersonnel claymore mines.

  “Why the mines?” Gilana questioned.

  “Well, if somebody tries to rush us while we are up on that hill, they will get a nasty surprise, won’t they?” Jackson answered.

  “Does everybody have what they need for weapons?” Gilana queried as she handed out radios, night-vision goggles, and binoculars.

  “Yep, let’s roll,” Christopher said.

  * * *

  Major Barrett took the moonless night as a sign of favor for this mission. Gilana waved the two men off, their black tactical clothing allowing the pair to become one with the inky black night. He and Jackson, per the plan, would maintain radio silence until they neared the link-up point, unless compromised. Two clicks across the radio meant Uri was in place, three meant Christopher and Jackson were set, and four clicks indicated Gilana was ready.

  This is too easy, Christopher thought as they crossed over the near side of the artificial lake, closest to Babylon. They had just heard the two clicks over the radio from Uri and expected to hear Gilana any moment. In the distance, the summer palace and main excavation site were brightly lit. The large pile of dirt covering the outside wall loomed in front of the two covert warriors.

  Man, I hate night-vision devices. This green glow makes me feel sick, Christopher thought as they reached the base of the dirt pile, which thankfully was dry. Jackson held up four fingers, which Christopher acknowledged with a nod. Jackson signaled that he was going to put in the claymore mines in front of the dirt pile on the Babylon side, so Christopher quietly climbed to the top of the heap, low crawling the last five meters to the top so that he could cover Jackson below. The two seasoned special ops soldiers were able to work in silence using only hand signals and battle-tested operating procedures.

  Through high-powered binoculars, Christopher studied a quiet and motionless construction site. Only a few guards were active about a kilometer away at the summer palace. Jackson had moved down the outer wall access road about fifty meters from the dirt pile to place one of the claymores, and Christopher saw that he was running back toward the mound.

  As Jackson made his way to the left side of the dirt pile about ten meters below Christopher, he clicked the radio three times. Now all they had to do was observe from their respective vantage points then meet Gilana at the link-up point. Things were going well for a change.

  * * *

  John Barnes could not sleep and made his way to the operations center at around one in the morning to see if anything was going on. He walked in to find the guards asleep and a blinking red LED light on the security control panel, indicating one of the passive infrared motion detection sensors had been tripped. Yet no one was responding in the operations center.

  Barnes pulled his pistol from its holster and shot the same sleeping foreman in the head. The loud boom from the shot startled the other two guards awake, only to see death staring them in the face as John Barnes squeezed the trigger on his pistol twice more, killing the other two guards. He hit the blood-soaked alarm button, flooding the complex with light and siren
s.

  “We have intruders near the dirt pile,” Barnes said into his radio. “Load up and find out who they are.” He spat on the dead men before exiting the control tower and running down the stairs to a truck filled with his U.E. special activities unit personnel. “Let’s go,” he ordered his men via radio. “It’s likely the American Omega Team, so be on your guard.” He thought, I’ve got you now, Christopher.

  * * *

  Uri broke the radio silence of the past hour by transmitting, “Shots fired!”

  Jackson responded, “The shots were not directed at us, but this place is lit up like the fourth of July.”

  “Trouble—two trucks inbound, headed right for us. Uri, get that distraction going,” Christopher said urgently.

  Christopher and Jackson watched as the two trucks sped across the construction site, closing quickly on their location. The vehicles would be within firing range in less than a minute.

  “Uri, shoot the—” Christopher’s radio transmission was broken by the loud concussive explosion of a fuel truck back near the summer palace, and the bright flash from the blast whited out his night-vision goggles.

  “I am on my way to you guys,” Gilana transmitted.

  Christopher watched as one truck turned around to head back toward the summer palace, while the other vehicle kept coming. Jackson held the claymore detonator in his right hand. As the truck approached Jackson’s firing mark along the road, the unique crack of the claymore mine resounded in the complex and Christopher watched as the vehicle lurched to one side and then rolled several times before coming to a stop. Christopher’s goggles, operating once again, confirmed what he already knew: everyone in that truck was dead.