Apocalypse Burning Page 12

  “Yes,” Goose said. “I remember. I won’t forget them.”

  “Nor should you.” Baker looked at him. “But for the grace of God, soon you could be burying your own son as so many of these families have done.”

  The thought hammered Goose, making him feel shamed and agonized at the same time. “I know,” he whispered.

  “The sad thing is, First Sergeant, you have another son that wasn’t so blessed. You still have a son who’s at risk in this world, and that is a frightening thing.”

  Goose thought of Joey. The last he’d heard, Joey had left the house after an argument with Megan. With the phones out, he didn’t know if Joey had returned. Or even if Joey was able to return. Baker was right. Joey was still at risk.

  “Chris is gone from you,” Baker said, “lifted on high by God Himself. Thank God in your prayers that you didn’t have to bury him.”

  “I know.” Goose let out a tense breath. “I just wish that all of this was easier to accept.”

  “Don’t wish for that, First Sergeant. Pray for it. God will answer those who call on Him. Read Psalm 145:18.”

  Goose nodded.

  “Now, as to what we can know and guess of the Tribulation,” Baker went on. “We know that those left behind will be tested for seven years. At this point, I can only tell you about the first twentyone months. I could guess at the rest of it, but I don’t want to do that.”

  “Nearly two years’ worth of battle plans,” Goose said. “I can live with that. As of right now, we’re still going day-to-day here.”

  “During these first twenty-one months,” Baker said, “we’re going to witness miracles and cataclysms known as the seven Seal Judgments. And according to the book of Revelation, the next twenty-one months will be filled with the seven Trumpet Judgments.”

  “I know a little about the Seals,” Goose said. “Those have been talked about a lot outside of the Bible.”

  Baker nodded. “Before those begin, though, the Antichrist will rise to power. He will promise peace and find a way to unite the world. Many people will fall for the great lie the Antichrist spins because, during the time of fear and confusion that is upon us now, they will want to believe that someone knows exactly what to do. They will seek a leader, and the Antichrist will be swept into position by that need.”

  “And someone here in this world that we think we know and understand is easier to believe in than in God.”

  “Exactly. You see the problem.”

  “Bad intel,” Goose said. “Wouldn’t it be easier if Jesus just returned now?”

  “Or if we’d all been raptured?”

  “Yes.”

  Baker leaned forward. “Not all of us were deserving, First Sergeant. Staying here, dealing with the terrible things going on in this world, this is the course set before us by God Himself. We will be tested and forced to look inside ourselves to find our faith. It just has to be.”

  “I have a problem with that, too,” Goose said.

  “Many people who come late to their faith are going to struggle with that concept. If things could be any other way, they already would be. This is what we have to deal with. Just like we have to deal with being stuck in Sanliurfa.”

  “If God loves us, why didn’t He just take us as we are?”

  “God does love us,” Baker said. “That’s why we have this second chance to get it right. And all the reason in the world to do so because there will be nothing left here to cling to.”

  “I wouldn’t abandon people.”

  “As a person or as a Ranger?”

  “As either.”

  “But we left men behind at the Turkish-Syrian border during the retreat. They fell and we kept going.”

  “We couldn’t stop.”

  “No,” Baker agreed. “And those men became ‘acceptable losses.’”

  “So that’s what we are in God’s eyes? Acceptable losses?”

  “No.”

  “Then what happens to those who die now?”

  Baker took a deep breath. “That will be between those people and God, First Sergeant. In my heart and according to Scripture I have read, I believe that He will be merciful and accept them and only turn away those who truly deny Him. But our faith wasn’t as strong as those who left us. So we owe this world a death. Regretfully, that death will probably be even more horrible than we have ever imagined for ourselves.”

  Fear thudded through Goose as he thought about Megan and Joey. If Baker was right, if the world was going to end in seven more years, they would have to die then. If not before. God, You can’t allow that to happen. You took Chris. I can’t live through losing them too. I swear to You I can’t.

  “What are we supposed to do here?” Goose asked. He was a soldier. Soldiers were supposed to do something to protect innocents. “During this seven years? Especially if so many are going to die?”

  “Those of use left behind are going to get right with God,” Baker said. “We no longer have a choice, and we won’t be able to disbelieve any longer. Those of us who are strong enough will help the weaker ones to survive and to better understand everything they are facing. That will be our mission.” The big corporal spread his hands. “I’m doing that now with my church, and you’re doing that now by questioning God and this world and your place in it.”

  “I’m a soldier, not a preacher.”

  “You’re a witness. As you become stronger in your faith—and I believe you will, First Sergeant—others will watch you and follow your lead. I believe you have a large part to play in the coming battle for the souls of those left behind.”

  A big yellow bulldozer stained by dust and blackened by fire damage rolled through the street. A cargo truck filled with soldiers carrying shovels as well as assault rifles rolled along in the bulldozer’s wake. The bright morning sunlight already promised a long, hot day.

  For a long time, Goose considered what he should say. He had told Baker most of what Icarus had told him, that the man had confirmed that the world had been raptured and they now faced the Tribulation.

  “I was also told the identity of the Antichrist,” Goose said.

  Interest showed on Baker’s bruised face. “By this man you talked to? Icarus?”

  “Yes.” Goose had hesitated only a short time before revealing part of Icarus’s story to Baker early in their conversation. For some reason, it was easy to trust the big man. That impulse to talk to Baker chafed at Goose. If there was anyone in the city whom he should have told, it should have been Cal Remington.

  They had been friends for seventeen years, brothers in blood, with trust and friendship forged on battlefields. And, as commanding officer of the Rangers posted there in Sanliurfa, Remington should have been the one to decide to whom the information was disseminated, how much would be told, and what weight would be given to Icarus’s claims.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I think so.” Goose hesitated. “I mean, it could be. Have you heard of Nicolae Carpathia?”

  A sour look darkened Baker’s round face. “I was already considering Carpathia for the role of Antichrist.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of his sudden rise to prominence on the world scene and his interest in the United Nations. Although U.N. Peacekeeping forces have been somewhat ineffectual throughout the world since they were first set up, the fact remains that the U.N. is a worldwide organization. Many connections across international borders are already in place.” Baker spread his hands. “Do you know about Carpathia’s history in Romania?”

  “Just what I caught in the news.”

  “Apparently, Carpathia skyrocketed to power in Romania.”

  “I’d heard something about that. The previous president stepped down.”

  “The day before the attack by the Syrians and the Rapture occurred,” Baker acknowledged.

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Perhaps not. But if we are going to look at Nicolae Carpathia as the potential Antichrist, let’s consider ev
erything he’s done.” Baker ticked off points on his fingers. “Becoming a rich man; stepping up to become an investor in international business; buying out several companies and making one out of them—as he did with OneWorld NewsNet; choosing to set himself up as a spokesperson for international concerns and getting a lot of attention for doing so; getting elected as a national leader in his home country; accepting the presidency of that country that was more or less handed to him, then using that position to immediately take advantage of a chance to speak before a world body like the United Nations. Those things aren’t on the agendas of most people. Or even goals other people would be able to accomplish.”

  Goose thought about that. “No. But it almost sounds … right. From what I’ve seen in the news, the guy has deserved everything he’s gotten. He’s worked hard and he’s … deserving. I can’t think of a better way to put it.”

  “Exactly the way it should be for the Antichrist to come to power in plain sight of everyone, as the Bible foretells,” Baker agreed. “If I hadn’t been looking for signs of the Antichrist, I probably wouldn’t have given Carpathia a second glance. But I was looking for signs.”

  “What does the Antichrist do besides unite the world?”

  “You make that sound like unifying this world is an easy task. That’s something that has eluded statesmen for decades, even in spite of all the advances in modern communication.”

  “If the Antichrist is going to get it done in twenty-one months or less, it might not be easy,” Goose said, “but it’s going to be quick.”

  “It will be quick,” Baker agreed. “Look at how quickly Carpathia has already stepped into the limelight with the United Nations. The Antichrist’s coming is signified by a white horse.”

  “The First Seal,” Goose said, remembering what he’d read in the sixth chapter of Revelation.

  “Yes. He will achieve world peace and unification in one to three months.”

  The timeline blew Goose away. “After all of this, after all the vanishings, the Antichrist is going to be able to pull the world together in a way that decades of politics hasn’t been able to do?”

  “Not after all of this,” Baker said. “Because of it. If the Rapture had not occurred, if times were not this confusing, he would not be able to come to power. But just as quickly, once the Antichrist’s true goals become apparent to some, a world war will consume the nations of the earth. That is represented by a red horse.”

  “War,” Goose said.

  “Yes. Three rulers from the south—I’ve not yet been able to ascertain who those people and what the nations will be—will oppose the Antichrist. Millions will die in that war.”

  Goose winced at the thought. Even after everything he’d seen in Sanliurfa, he wasn’t so dead inside that he couldn’t experience dread at those coming times.

  “After that, the third Seal Judgment, a black horse, will usher in famine. From what I’ve read, the famine will last two to three months. More of those left behind will die.”

  “Then the fourth Seal,” Goose said. “The pale horse. Pestilence and plague.”

  Baker nodded. “At the end of the first year, or shortly thereafter, a quarter of the world’s present population will have perished.”

  The thought was staggering.

  “Those things, First Sergeant,” Baker said, “are the horrors that God has spared your child from. Chris will not suffer the war or the famine or the plague that could have ended his life so painfully.”

  Goose felt humbled, regretting—at least for the moment—that he’d ever thought that Chris should have remained on the earth with him. He was being selfish. In this instant—Please, God, help me to understand and remember why You did what You did—he understood what his son had been saved from.

  “Millions will die during the fifth Seal Judgment,” Baker explained. “When the sixth Seal Judgment takes place, God will cause an earthquake that creates devastation that reaches around the globe. Every living person will feel His wrath over the murder of His saints.”

  In his mind, Goose watched the mountain tumble again to save the retreating American, U.N., and Turkish forces from the advancing horde of Syrian armor only a few days ago. No one had ever found a scientific reason for the mountain to fall at that precise moment. But there was no doubt that the earthquake had spared hundreds of lives.

  “All of this in twenty-one months,” Goose whispered, overcome by the magnitude of the coming events.

  “Yes,” Baker replied. “The seventh Seal will bring about the beginning of the next twenty-one-month period, the time of the seven Trumpet Judgments.” He shook his head. “I’m still trying to decipher all those portents and omens. I will, but it will take time.”

  Goose shifted his leg again, feeling the pain gnawing at his knee. “Time may not be something we have, Corporal. The Syrians are no doubt preparing their next assault, and it could be the final one. We don’t have much left to give.”

  “We have time,” Baker pointed out in a soft voice. “Seven years. All of that the worst period mankind has ever seen. If we survive it, we will witness the Glorious Appearing of Christ.”

  Glancing at his watch, Goose saw that the time was seven minutes till seven. The number resonated within him.

  “Perhaps you and I won’t see the end of those seven years or the Second Coming,” Baker said, “but we need to prepare as many of the others as we can so they may prepare yet others.”

  Goose pushed himself up, favoring his injured knee. “It’s almost 0700. We’d better get to it. Today we’ll dig in a little deeper, hold on a little harder, and try to make it through whatever the Syrians have waiting for us.”

  Baker stood as well. “I hope this talk has helped ease your mind, First Sergeant.”

  “All the prophecies of terror and death coming to claim the world?” Goose shook his head. “It’s hard to face all that, Corporal. Not and feel easy about anything.”

  “At least you know there is a plan in place.”

  Goose nodded and drained his coffee. He placed the empty cup back on the table. “I just wish I had known that God was going to take the children like that.”

  “Why?”

  Goose looked at the other man as he pulled his rifle over his shoulder, then clapped his helmet on his head. “It would have been easier.”

  “What would?”

  “If I had known that God was going to take my son from me, that the end of the world was so near, I wouldn’t have brought Chris into this world.” Goose was surprised at how tight his voice got and how much he instantly regretted what he’d said. He could barely remember the world before Chris, and it was almost impossible to imagine the world now without him. He hadn’t been thinking, just speaking with the pain in his heart instead of the love.

  Baker dropped a hand on Goose’s shoulder. “God blessed you with your son, First Sergeant. Never lose sight of that. For the few short years you had your son, you were shown God’s love.” He paused. “Without Chris in your life, you would not have become the man you are today. You would not have become the man God needs now to help others learn what is going on. Try to keep that in mind.”

  Goose swallowed hard and choked his anger back. “It’s not that easy. I want to be angry. I want Chris back, more than I want to understand.”

  “I’ll pray for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And keep something else in mind, First Sergeant,” Baker said.

  Goose looked at the man.

  “Just remember that when your tour of duty is finished in this world—” Baker smiled through his own tears—“you have a son waiting to welcome you into his arms again in the next. God blessed me with that understanding. I keep that close to my heart every day. Most of us are going to die at some point in this conflict. We’re all on short time. There will be few veterans of this war left in this world at the end.”

  Goose nodded, then turned toward the door. The first thing he noticed was the sudden blackness that filled the s
ky. Amazed, he walked out of the coffee shop, drawn into the rubble-strewn street as were so many others. They all gazed at the sky in awe and fear. It was hard not to think that anything ominous didn’t have to do with the Syrians poised to sack the city as they had so many times in the past.

  For a moment, Goose thought the dark sky was from a dust storm blowing in from the south. Turkey had a few of those, and the extra dust, dirt, debris, and particulate matter blown into the atmosphere by the SCUDs, bombs, and artillery added to the already considerable problem.

  But the dark masses swirling against the blue sky weren’t dust clouds. Goose smelled the thick, cloying odor of fresh rain coming. The scent caught him as it always did, tickling his nose and tightening his lungs for the briefest of moments. The wind whipped through the street, picking up litter and papers and shingles and sending them scurrying. A chill chased the wind. In seconds, the heat index had dropped ten or fifteen degrees.

  The coffee-shop owner, a middle-aged man with sad eyes and a large mustache, joined Goose and Baker on the street. He spoke his native language, then caught himself and said, “I’m sorry. I was just commenting on the rain. It seldom rains this time of year, and usually only a light shower or two when it does. Not a storm like this promises to be.”

  Goose nodded. “The weather reports I looked at last night didn’t forecast any rain.”

  The wind plucked at Goose’s clothing. The primitive feeling that he’d always experienced but never understood filled Goose. Storms excited him, left him on the edge of breathless and vibrating with energy. Megan and Wes Gander had never understood Goose’s fascination, and would often come out to him as he watched a storm, telling him that he would be safer inside.

  But Chris had viewed storms with the same intensity that Goose did. Although his son had watched the wind and the lightning and listened to the peal of thunder coursing across the heavens while safely held in Goose’s arms, Chris had loved the storms as much as Goose did.

  Lightning blazed across the dark mass of clouds. In the same instant, rain fell. Thick, fat drops marked the street and the surrounding sidewalks and patios like tracer fire. The drops formed miniature craters in the thick layers of dust and dirt that coated the street. Then the sky opened up and the deluge began.