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Chapter 2

Kill the Children Now

Thursday, February 14–MD minus 25 days

It was a very straightforward plan. All they were to do was steal a car and drive to Kingdom Daycare, arriving around 7:45 AM after most of the parents would have dropped off their kids on their way to work. Two would storm the front door, and one would go around to the backyard to eliminate the teachers and kids in the playground area. They had five minutes to kill as many as possible, then race back to the car. Then they would drive to the designated drop zone — where it would be abandoned — so they could escape on the hiking trail. This path surrounded the city, and ultimately went all the way to Chicago. Returning to the house, they could rest in preparation for Saturday’s attack on the Jews.

There were no second thoughts that day. The second thoughts had come earlier as the forces of light attempted to open their eyes and draw each of the terrorists away from the evil that dominated their hearts. But free choice reigns in human hearts because God allows it to be so. Thus, they knowingly chose hate and death.

Ackmid Hasine spoke with cold dedication, “If you see any of those red-coated fools who partnered with Farsi, kill them quickly, so we don’t have another disaster like the church attack. There are only three of us left. The five cowards who would not fight with us have received their ‘reward.’ We must seek to survive as long as possible so that we can complete our mission, but do not be deceived — you will die today, Saturday, Sunday or soon thereafter. But before you are taken, we will have struck a blow these American infidels will never forget. Those cowards who claim our faith but will not stand with us will know the meaning of terror when they find the remains of the five, just like Farsi.”

In the invisible, Legion smiled approvingly. “They have learned well,” he thought. He watched with anticipation as their Keepers poured the Dark Master’s influence into their hearts and minds. “Death to the children of these infidels” was their mantra; “kill them now before they can grow to be enemies” was their mission.

Already present at Kingdom Daycare were Susan Stafford and Sam Will. They had arrived before 7:00 AM to be visible as the children were dropped off by the parents. At 7:30 AM, they separated, with Susan remaining at the front for any late arrivals and Sam at the back to be visible to the children playing there before formal activities began at 8:00 AM. Susan watched carefully for what she sensed was coming, yet she was strangely at peace.

The forces of light had been active early on this cold Thursday morning. They had awakened believers throughout the world with a compulsion to pray for children. Their prayers moved the Spirit to inspire Susan’s awareness and peace. Those called to pray wondered for whom the prayers had been solicited. Soon, everyone would know.

Air Force One landed right after Susan and Sam arrived at Kingdom Daycare. The president had been successful in slipping out of Washington without notice. As the plane taxied to a secured location under the protection of the Alpha Force, he too found himself strangely burdened to pray for children. So he did.

Back in Williams, an unmarked military vehicle had just picked up the Bookseller

and Paul Phillips at the warehouse to take them to meet with the president. As they left the city limits of Williams, the stolen vehicle driven by Ackmid Hasine arrived at Kingdom Daycare. The three in black hoods rushed from the car to their assigned positions, with automatic weapons raised. Janice Foster screamed and grabbed her child as she saw the three figures, pulling little Todd back into her car and falling on him in a single motion as he cried. Bullets pierced the glass flying over her now prone body and striking the other door. Hasine ran toward the car to finish his kill as the other two momentarily froze to watch.

Susan had seen the men as soon as they left the car and immediately ran from the front door toward them. She fired at Hasine, hitting him twice in the back as he had turned to kill the mother. He fell, hitting the car as the remaining two opened fire, striking Susan numerous times in the chest and legs. As she fell, Sam Will raced around the corner, firing at the terrorist who had been heading toward the backyard hitting him in the chest and face. The remaining terrorist quickly spun and returned fire, hitting Will in the arm, side, and leg. As he fell, the terrorist ran toward the door seeking to complete the job they had come to do. Up from the ground, another shot was heard that dropped the terrorist before he could reach the porch. Writhing in pain and cursing, he was immediately paralyzed as his spinal column was severed and his weapon slid out of reach.

Across the tracks, the gunshots had been heard by the Alpha Force team members assigned to secure College Church for the memorial service, and a strike force was immediately dispatched to address the threat. They arrived moments later, followed by the ITN camera crew who had been setting up for the service. Sam Will had crawled to Susan Stafford, holding her as she whispered, “Sam, there is a letter inside my jacket. Please read the letter. Forgive me. I’m so sorry,” and just like that, she was gone. But the end for Susan Stafford was very different from the two who came to kill the children, for as evil as she had been, she had been made a new creation in which ‘the old was gone.’14 She faced death and judgment as a sinner forgiven.

Sally Johnson and Pete Samson arrived soon after. Medical personnel were working with the critically injured terrorist and trying to stabilize Sam Will’s injuries — which although numerous, were not life-threatening. One medic observed to Sam, “Either you are the luckiest man on earth this morning, or God doesn’t want you dead yet.”

Before they separated him from Susan Stafford’s body, Sam had reached into the inside pocket of her jacket for the plastic bag containing the letter, now covered with her blood. He quickly breathed out the story of Susan’s last moments and gave the unopened plastic bag to Sally Johnson. She wiped the blood off and placed it in her coat pocket to read later.

Emerging from her car frightened and traumatized, but with only superficial wounds caused by the breaking glass, Janice Foster held Todd close while thanking God for protecting them both. Ambulances arrived to remove the two injured men as the ITN camera crew brought the whole scene live into homes across the world. The president had been notified and was watching as the television crew tried to reconstruct during a live broadcast what had just happened. They interviewed anyone who would talk with them and showed the children safe inside the house. America breathed a collective sigh of relief. Those who had been called to pray now knew why and paused to thank God for His gracious protection of the children and for the joy of being called to be a part of what He was doing that morning.

The Secret Service insisted that the president leave for Washington immediately, as they could no longer guarantee his safety in Williams. The president responded firmly and ordered them to stick to the schedule. “I am going nowhere until after the service, and I will speak at the service. You do the best you can, but don’t interrupt the service and don’t unnecessarily inconvenience the mourners. I am not afraid. Don’t be afraid.”

“But, Mr. President,” the chief insisted.

“But nothing,” the president responded. “You go do your job, and if I get killed, blame me. There will be no further discussion on this,” he said insistently.

Janet added gently, “Jeff, it’s alright. We really need to do this.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the chief responded in surrender and left to organize the impossible.

Still Blind

Across the city behind a small family grocery store, Gloria Morning screamed hysterically as she dropped her garbage bags and ran from the grisly sight which confronted her. There in the large trash receptacle were five headless bodies and five heads. The Williams College students who had sought to house the terrorists but not be involved in the killings had paid the price for fence-sitting.

In Washington, still unaware of events in Williams, Chairman Crow was making his opening statement for the hearings on the dangers of religion and the need to amend the Hate Crimes Act to address the threat caused by religious intolerance. Present and prepared to testify was Williams College professor, Dr. Daniel Thompson, who had been waiting for a stage from which to declare publicly the need to change what he called, “America’s religion-based foreign policy toward Israel” and accept political reality.

Former President Leonard Cox had earlier inked a deal with one of the major networks for an exclusive on his upcoming trip to Syria to discuss the causes of hate with the Sheik in response to his invitation. Majority Leader Howard had called in Harkins constitutional law professor, Dr. Trice, to prepare for the beginning of tomorrow’s judiciary committee hearings on alleged abuses of the government in launching a racially motivated attack on Arab students and faculty members at Harkins.

As aides rushed to pass notes to the participants, decisions were uniformly made to ignore the events in Williams and continue with the hearings. “Don’t be concerned,” Chairman Crow told the majority party members after his introductory comments. “This will be turned to our advantage, but now is not the time to address it and change the focus. The events in Williams this morning are really nothing more than further evidence of the danger of religious fanaticism gone wild. Had the president responded positively to the Sheik’s invitation, this would never have happened. It’s the president’s fault. We have to deal with these people, or the violence will never end.”

Back in Williams, word of the discovery of the five bodies was passed by police radio and picked up by Sally Johnson and Pete Samson at Kingdom Daycare. “That has to be the five we were tipped about,” Samson said. “Let’s go now and search the place. Perhaps we can find evidence to end the threat.”

“We have no search warrant,” Sally reminded him, “but I think we can get one quickly.”

“Who gives a damn!” Samson answered. “We’re not trying to find evidence to prosecute anyone. We are trying to find leads to end the terrorist threat here and now. Look around you. Remember Sunday morning? I am not going to worry about some legal technicality and possibly lose the chance to stop an even greater threat to the memorial service later this afternoon.

“You can come or stay. I’m going now. You cannot fight terrorists with law books.”

And with that, they ran together to a black and white, racing off with the siren blazing.

The President and the Bookseller

Aboard Air Force One, Paul Phillips and the Bookseller were ushered into the traveling office of President Strong. They were greeted by the president, Janet, David Barnes, and Tom Knight, who all stood out of respect for the Bookseller. “Mr. White,” the president said, “thank you for coming.”

“It is my privilege, sir.”

“Have you seen this?” the president asked, pointing to the television set carrying the live ITN broadcast from Kingdom Daycare. “These people will stop at nothing. Thank God those two from the Citizens Militia were there, or all the kids would have been killed. As it was, none of the children were killed, but it was at a high price. One of the Citizens Militia members was killed, and the other seriously wounded. This time at least we have one of the terrorists alive. Perhaps we will be able to learn more about their plans when he is questioned.”

“Who died?” the Bookseller asked.

“It was that woman who was wounded at the Security Fair,” David Barnes answered.

“I guess God answered her prayer,” the Bookseller thought out loud, “and that explains why I was awakened and burdened to pray for the children.”

“I was also awakened,” the president responded. “God was clearly at work in this for His purposes.”

“What did you mean that the woman who was killed had her prayer answered?” Janet asked.

“I really cannot answer that, but it seemed she had some things burdening her heart in my time talking with her in the hospital, and I hope she found peace. I’m sure that we will learn more about that woman in the coming days,” the Bookseller answered. “I watched her fight some great spiritual battles that she ultimately overcame, but I could sense there was some really dark history in her past. When I took her home from the hospital earlier this week, I had the sense she expected to die soon — maybe even wanted to die.”

“I guess we shall see, but I am thankful for her sacrifice,” the president said. “Mr. White, the reason I asked you here was first to thank you on behalf of the country for your faithfulness to share the truth when you had the opportunity. Your statements have been used by the Lord to pierce my heart, and I know they have affected many other hearts both here and around the world.”

“It is not me, it is the Lord,” the Bookseller responded.

“I know that, but you have been available to the Lord so that He could use you, and for that, I thank you. I wish I could tell you all that we face and how right you are to say what you did about the need for God’s protection. I cannot, however, because it would make you even more of a target for the terrorists than before.”

“Mr. President, I may know more than you think,” he said pulling out the last message from the Iranian brothers. “I know that the government is working in Iran through two men who are believers. We have been carrying on an exchange of messages through a CIA carrier that I am sure you must have approved for that purpose. I need to show you their last message.” He handed it to the president, who read for all to hear:

Brother, the days are now much shorter, and God’s protection is essential to prevent disaster and open eyes to deception. Don’t believe what you see. Ezekiel 3:17, Jeremiah 8:11, 15.

“Mr. President, I feel compelled to give you my understanding of this message. I believe it means that whatever you are facing is coming much sooner, and the video message from the Sheik is a mere deception to get your eyes off what must be done. Whatever it is, it cannot be done apart from God.

“I am so thankful that you have called our country to stand before the Lord tomorrow to confess wrongs and seek forgiveness. I believe that the response of the people to your call will determine the ultimate outcome of what you face. America must choose whose side it is on.”

“You are correct on all points,” the president agreed. “It is much worse than you know. We are learning more daily, but without God’s intervention we cannot possibly be prepared to confront the coming attack with any real hope of eliminating the threat.”

“How do the verses fit into the message?”

“The first passage is addressed to me,” the Bookseller answered. “They are saying that I am God’s watchman and must warn the people and dissuade them from their evil ways. If I don’t warn them, their blood will be on my hands. Obviously, I have not yet said or done all that the Lord intends, and the peoples’ response clearly indicates that they have not yet heard and understood. I believe the other two verses are for you.”

“What do they mean?” the president asked.

“They are warnings God gave through the prophet Jeremiah regarding those who proclaimed not the truth, but what they wanted to be the truth. The first is directed against those who falsely declare peace; peace when there is no peace. The second is chilling. It recognizes that we all want peace, but what we face is terror. It reads, “We hoped for peace but no good has come, for a time of healing but there was only terror.”

“I could have gone all day without hearing that one,” the president answered. “I know it’s true, but oh, how I wish it weren’t.” Pausing to consider the magnitude of what he had just heard, the president shook his head. Janet got up and walked behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Mr. White,” he said, looking up, “tomorrow we will be holding our service in the East Room of the White House. Would you please come back with us to Washington and lead that time? You could fly back with us after this afternoon’s service, and we will make arrangements for your return. You can bring your wife and your young friend. I strongly believe that this is what God intends.”

“Give me a little time to pray about it, Mr. President. I certainly don’t feel that I am needed, as you are the one God has used to call for this time, but if that is His plan I will certainly come.

“Would it be possible for us to travel separately if we go? I don’t want to become a political character, and I don’t want you to be saddled with me as you stand to address the threat to the country,” the Bookseller replied.

“You don’t understand, Mr. White. I don’t care about politics anymore. There is no time for that. Unless God reveals the intimate details of the plans for the attack against America, there very well may not be another election. I am trying to walk in obedience to God for the good of this nation and to honor Him. Frankly, I would covet some time with you on the flight to let you know where we are and what we need you and others to pray for specifically. We have room for all of you at the White House for tonight. Please come.”

“Mr. President, we will,” he responded. “I know that it is God’s will that I learn how to intentionally pray for what we face so I can be effective and tell others. Had you said anything else, I don’t believe I would have agreed to come, but prayer is the only weapon we have that can overcome this enemy.

“I assume you know about the Together We Pray website and the miracle of tongues that we have heard is occurring throughout the world?”

“No, tell me!” the president responded. With great excitement, the Bookseller shared how God had provided a vehicle to communicate with believers around the world.

“Can believers respond to the website?” the president asked, equally excited.

“We don’t really know how to do that,” the Bookseller answered. “We are actually really primitive in computer skills. This website is solely a work of the Lord.”

“I know who can do that,” David Barnes jumped in. “Darrell Reed. He could do that in his sleep.”

“Well, wake him up,” the president directed, “and get him to whoever is in charge of this website. If believers who have been praying were also to pray for God to reveal activities or people connected with the plan, God might open their eyes and use this as a means to reveal the danger and enable us to overcome.”

“Yes, but be very careful,” the Bookseller warned with unusual bluntness. “God has been using this website to unite believers around the world in the call for America to make a decision to repent and be on the Lord’s side. It is not an intelligence effort, and if it is misused or even used for the wrong purpose, we will lose even what we have. Please don’t change your focus. Tomorrow remains the key to having God provide the answer, however it is to be provided.”

“I do understand,” the president responded respectfully, “but I believe that God may have made this website available for many reasons beyond what we now know, and that when He has accomplished what He desires, it will no longer be available. This may be part of His plan.”

“You may be right,” the Bookseller answered. “God always moves in ways that man cannot duplicate and take credit for themselves. It is always something that only He can do or can enable a person to do.”

“Mr. White, David, and Darrell are real believers. You can trust them. I will put David in charge from the government side, and he will coordinate with Darrell to get the site changed so that communication can be both ways if the others agree.”

“I need to get back, sir, and pack and prepare for today’s service,” the Bookseller said. “I will need some way to communicate with you or whoever you want me to communicate with.”

The president took a card and wrote down the number of the secured phone that never left his presence. “Here, Mr. White,” he said, handing the card to the Bookseller. “You can reach me on that number any time of the day or night. Use it. I will always take your call.”

“If you don’t mind, I am going to have David go back with you to meet with your friends about the website so that he can coordinate with Darrell and get that up and running as soon as possible — that is, if they agree it is what God would have them do.”

“That is a good idea, Mr. President. It is imperative that someone who knows what would be involved comes and explains it to the group.”

“I have one last request before you leave,” the president said. “May we pray together?” Without question, everyone stood, took hands and formed a circle, and began to pray.

Susan’s Note

Arriving at the rent house, Sally Johnson and Pete Samson forced open the door and entered what was obviously another crime scene. What they saw was reminiscent of what Special Agent Andy Samuels and his FBI strike force had encountered when they stepped into Farsi’s house, only five times worse. It appeared to be a slaughterhouse that had been stripped of anything that could provide knowledge of who lived there or what they had been doing.

“I’m calling forensics,” Samson said. “There is nothing obvious here. Maybe they can find something.”

“While you do that, I am going outside for a minute,” Sally said. “I can’t take any more of this. I have seen too much blood this week. What kinds of people are capable of such inhuman conduct? What could possibly motivate this?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Samson replied. “You of all people should know. You encountered them at the Security Fair, College Church, and this morning at the daycare. Their hatred is beyond belief. It’s certainly not human.”

Leaving the house and finding a seemingly peaceful place among some trees in the front yard, Sally sat and cried. The impact of the past days had taken an tremendous toll on her. The killings, her friend Tom Campy’s injuries, and now Susan Stafford’s death had left her emotionally exhausted. On top of that, they were nowhere close to finding out about the larger risk of which the president had warned. She mixed her tears with prayer and was suddenly reminded of the note taken from Susan Stafford after she died. She opened the plastic bag to uncover the envelope which contained the note and began to read.

If you have found this note, then hopefully by God’s grace I am dead, and hopefully, I died better than I lived. My life was a waste. I was evil and cruel beyond human imagination; cold and uncaring until my eyes were opened to the truth of what I had become and I screamed in horror at myself.

I WAS the one you called the Williams’ shooter. I am solely responsible for all the hurt, injury and death, and am without excuse. I deserve the cruelest punishment and death ever devised for what I did, and I know what that is. It is crucifixion. I deserve to die that way.

I cannot change what I did, or I would. I am so sorry now for the pain and anguish I have caused. I am unworthy of anyone’s forgiveness, so I will not even ask.

I have one request. In the upper left drawer of my desk, you will find a journal written by two very different authors. It chronicles the horror story as a daily diary from the day my evil plans were conceived to the day before you find this note. In it, you will learn of pure evil confronted and hopefully changed forever. It is a story that those who have suffered at my hand need to hear, and those who have been evil like me need to read. I said that there were two authors; I believe the journal will make clear how that could be.

I ask that my journal be given to the Bookseller, to whom I surrender all rights so that it can someday be published. I wish for every dime made to be distributed to care for those I have injured, for the spouses of those I killed, and for their children through some kind of entity headed by Sally Johnson, who held out her hand to me in friendship. It does not in any way resolve what I have done, but it is all I can do. Again — I am so sorry.

Susan Stafford

The tears became a torrent as Sally held the note and wondered how this could be. After taking a moment to collect herself, she placed the note securely back in the plastic bag and returned to the house. “Pete, we have to leave here right now and get to Susan Stafford’s house as soon as we can. There is something there we have to get — now.”

“What are you talking about? This is a crime scene; the place where the terrorists lived. The forensic team hasn’t even gotten here yet!” Samson responded in disbelief.

“Pete, shut up and give me the keys to the car. I’ll drive, and you read this,” she said handing him the note. “Then you will understand.”

Grumbling under his breath, he threw Sally the keys and followed her into the car. Just as the forensic team arrived, they were on their way, siren blazing.