Читать книгу BEWARE THE COUNTERFEIT RAPTURE! - Sandra Ghost - Страница 6

The Wilson's dining room was formal. A long mahogany Queen Anne period table and matching chairs stretched the length of the room. Antique cut crystal pieces sparkled behind a huge beveled glass breakfront in one corner. An elaborate Queen Anne sideboard, which had belonged to Marianne's mother, spanned one wall; on it, a large silver tea service was regally centered on the expanse of cherry wood, which had been polished to a rich, warm patina. A Waterford crystal chandelier, suspended over the table, caught the sunlight in its winking prisms. The table was set informally with linen place mats instead of a cloth, and paper napkins.

Marianne and Lee carried large platters of thickly sliced roast beef and steaming corn on the cob to the table. Jesse followed behind them with a bowl of mashed potatoes and the gravy boat. Scarlett, her father, and Lance were still in the living room; the Sunday paper was scattered all over the floor like the aftermath of a ticker tape parade. Scarlett, needlepoint pillows propped behind her head, was curled up on the love seat. She was reading her horoscope.

Lee leaned into the room through the archway, "Come on, you guys. It's on the table."

Once everyone was seated, Marianne asked, "Jesse, will you say the blessing for us?"

The silence seemed momentarily awkward, and then, "Father, we praise and thank you for this food, and for all of the blessings You've given us. Keep our family close to You by the power of the Holy Spirit, that each of us might know You personally, Jesus..." At this point Scarlett looked up slyly toward her father. His eyes weren't closed either. He winked at her. "Keep us ever watchful for Jesus' soon return...and take care of our family through any coming crises, in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, we pray. Amen."

Horace reached for the rolls. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't preach a sermon, Jesse, in place of a simple blessing. The food's begun to grow mold on it."

Scarlett giggled as she helped herself to an ear of corn. She gestured toward the tall brass candelabra in the center of the table, "We'd have lit the candles if we'd known ya'll were gonna' say mass," she told her brother.

"Don't start," Marianne warned. "This is going to be a nice family dinner." The meat platter was passed around the table.

"Well, I'm starting to get ready in case we have to do without electricity," Lance announced. "I buried two 1,000 gallon propane tanks today. Once they're filled, I'll have enough fuel to cook, heat the chalet, and have hot water for at least a year or so." He reached for the butter. "Got a propane generator coming to hook into the main with a transfer switch and run my lights, spark the propane furnace, run the well pump. We should make my place the family compound." He looked around the table to see how his idea was received. "The chalet will be totally self-sustaining."

"Has the whole world lost its mind?" Horace's face began to redden. "All this stuff about gloom and doom is just hype, son. Our government will be on this and if we go to war with North Korea we'll whip their pants off. They'll take care of it."

"Just who are 'they', Dad?" Jesse asked. "If you think it's the government, in 2015 the Pentagon spent $700 billion to take all the NORAD computer assets and squirreled them below Cheyenne Mountain underground to protect their stuff. I just got an email this morning from Newsmax saying that the former director of the CIA, James Woolsey, is warning that North Korea poses an immediate threat to the United States. He says Pyongyang can strike the U.S. mainland today using a nuclear device delivered via satellite. If detonated, such a device could kill as much as 90 percent of the U.S. population within one year. So, just who is the 'they' who's going to fix it? Certainly doesn't seem like it's our government."

"Well, Bill Gates will pull some rabbit out of the hat at the last minute, you just wait and see," Horace blustered.

Lance interjected, "Haven't you been reading the papers, watching TV? That's what lit a fire under me to prepare. They can't get it fixed in time--there is no quick fix!"

Jesse smiled. "Dad, you just don't understand the overwhelming extent of the problem. It's mainly centered in the microchips. There are billions of microchips embedded in the power grids all over the country...they're in the telephone connections...pressure reduction regulators in natural gas lines." He looked around the table.." Every generator has microchips which will fry with an EMP. Think of it....all hospitals have generators, people are buying generators thinking to protect their homes if the power does go down. But that is not a solution! The microchips frying will render the generators impotent! No newer car will run so you can't 'bug out'. Unless someone can take the covers off the generators and Faraday Cage those microchips with copper prior to attack nothing will run."

"Do I hear you saying we won't be able to get groceries if truck engines have microchips, son?"

Jesse pushed his empty plate away and reached for the coffee. "That's a weighty and very intelligent question, Mom. Let's think it through. Even if we find some engineer able to manufacture and install the copper protective Faraday cages for the chips in generators, plus electronics in cars and trucks, it will only put a temporary Band-Aid on the problem. At some point in time, Mother, our ability to refine the gasoline without electricity will cease all transportation ."

"I see," she said gravely, hoping Horace had taken note that their son had said it was an 'intelligent question'."

"Well, the government just won't let this happen, that's all there is to it!" Horace told the family.

"You can wrap yourself in the American flag, Dad, but don't count on the government coming up with an answer. Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, the IRS are all going up in smoke."

"Social Security?" The discussion suddenly turned a corner and hit Horace in the wallet.

His father's eyes widened behind the thick glasses. He pursed his lips tightly.

"Dad," it was the first time Lee had spoken, "you need to get hard copies of your bank records and call the Social Security office."

"I just can't believe this," Horace sputtered. He reached for Marianne's hand under the table.

"We could live very comfortably on my stock dividends if we had to. I have a pretty significant portfolio built up."

Lee shifted in her chair and leaned slightly forward. She was thirty-five years old, but looked like a teenager--her appearance was a surprise to many customers in her capacity as Senior Vice President of a bank. Her hazel eyes, which occasionally chameleoned to green, now appeared solemn. "I don't know if I've told you or not, but I'm the Operations Officer for the bank. That also makes me the Compliance Officer, directly under the supervision of the Federal auditors."

Where's she going with this? Horace wondered. It wasn't often his daughter-in-law interjected much into any kind of discussion between him and his son.

She pushed her plate to the side. "Believe me, the government is worried about this big time! All the banks, savings and loans, and credit unions are scurrying to get their computers protected and their generators' microchips encased in copper protection. We've got to protect our branches' resources also."

"See, I told you," Horace interrupted. He wagged a finger toward both Jesse and Lance.

"But wait, Dad," she smiled. "Let's say the banks get compliant, and then the power and telephone lines go down--we can't operate. Our compliance is only as good as the utilities' compliance that serves us."

"I'm pulling my money out way ahead of all this." Lance reached for another ear of corn. He ate restaurant fast food most of the time, and took full advantage of his mother's cooking whenever the chance presented itself.

"It's just that kind of thinking that'll cause a run on the banks," Jesse told his younger brother.

"Run on the banks?" Horace eyes dominated his entire face behind the thick glasses which seemed to magnify them anyway.

"I don't mean to spook you, Dad," Lee's tone was gentle, "but it could happen. We're being told to prepare for it. It's possible that if the power and telephones go down the Federal Reserve could close us down until there's a correction."

Scarlett played with her food, pushing it around the plate, "Oh, ya'll are positively giving me the vapors with all this doom and gloom talk." There was a slight lifting of some of the tension in the room as Scarlett's declaration brought laughter.

Lee shook her head slightly from side-to-side; the silver dolphin earrings danced lightly.

"There's a very good possibility this could happen. It's not hype, Dad. As the one on the point for compliance, I have to check our power suppliers--telephone communication suppliers. They're nowhere near compliance. Won't be ready for any kind of attack."

"Haven't you been watching any of the House and Senate hearings on TV?" Lance asked them. "They've been holding hearings on MSNBC with the power companies...they're admitting they're not ready...won't be. The telephone company majors aren't ready...won't be." He finally pushed back his plate. "Super meal, Mom." He threw her a kiss across the table. Leaning back in his chair, he continued, "It was after watching those Senate hearings that I started preparing."

"So again what about grocery stores?" Marianne looked around the table. "Will they have food?"

Jesse patted her hand. "I think we need to prepare for that too. Trucking companies communicate with their drivers by computer. If there's no power, there's no way to pump diesel except with a hand pump. No fuel--no trucks--no trucks no food. Grocery stores have approximately three days worth of food on their shelves. It could get pretty nasty."

"I've got a year's worth of food--dehydrated, canned and vacuum packed being shipped to me," Lance told them.

"What? Are you trying to tell me the Mormons were right about a year's worth of food storage kept on hand? Really!" Horace couldn't believe the Mormons could be right on their many years belief on food storage..

"How much did that cost you?" Lee asked.

"About $2,000."

"Of all the ridiculousness!" Horace's face was getting flushed again. "I should flat out disinherit you for such a waste of good money. I think you've all lost your minds."

"Look at it this way, Dad, if the attack on our national power doesn't happen, I'll just eat up all the food anyway in the course of the year."

"Well, don't think you'll be coming around here to sponge good food. You can just eat up your bags of tasteless sawdust."

"Horace! Please don't." Marianne saw the wounded look on their youngest son's face. She tried to change the subject. "There's fresh blueberry pie for dessert."

But Lance wouldn't let it go. "I don't think any of you people realize that there could be rioting if there's no food. Your neighbor could be your worst enemy if he finds out you have food and he doesn't. Once we go into bunker mode in the chalet, I'll cut down trees to block the lane. You can't see the house from the road. I've got plenty of rounds of ammunition reloaded."

"Wait a minute." Jesse held up one hand. "Somehow I don't think shooting your neighbor is the Christian way to handle this. I've talked to some of the deacons in the church. We're thinking about stocking up, just like you're doing--but opening our doors to the hungry. The pastor thinks it should be the mission of the church to minister the gospel of Jesus Christ through this hardship."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. She waved a ring bedecked hand at Lee and Marianne, who were clearing the table. "Wait a minute, Lee, better save that big plate of corn cobs. Ya'll just may need them if there's no toilet paper." The thick sarcasm in her voice served to amplify the affected drawl. This time there was no laughter in response to her statement.

Jesse turned to her. "You can be just as glib as you want about this, Scar." It was his pet name for his little sister. He had given her that nickname when, at the age of thirteen, she had kicked him in the shins, leaving a permanent scar. "But you'd better wake up to where we are in God's timeclock--all of this is relevant to prophecy in the Bible." The words were clipped, but there was love in his tone.

"Oh, my gawd, just show me where it says in the Bible that 'thy microchips shall faileth thee and thou shalt go hungry'." Her thickly lashed ice-blue eyes were such a startling contrast to the shining, jet-black hair. Now they shot arrows of insolence toward her brother.

Jesse laughed, "It doesn't say that, of course, but there are only just a few prophecies left in the Bible which haven't come true yet."

"More gloom and doom...so the world's about to come to an end, huh?" Horace wondered how he'd managed to father such a religious fanatic. He noticed though that Marianne had stopped clearing. She was smiling, seemed to be urging Jesse to continue. He'd put a stop to this nonsense, "Marianne, would you bring me a Pepcid? I'm getting a bad case of indigestion from all this pessimism. Better bring some aspirin too," he added.

"Dad, the world's not coming to an end. Jesus is going to return and reign here on earth--that's what all the prophecy is about--His second coming. People get it all mixed up and say 'the end of the world'. What Jesus said was the 'end of the age.' "

"Things are going to get pretty hairy first?" Lance asked him.

"Pretty hairy. The Bible lays it all out, and we're getting pretty close, but Jesus said nobody but His Father knows the exact day, not even the angels."

That got Scarlett's attention. "That's pretty preposterous that even the angels wouldn't know. My psychic talks about angels sometimes."

"I know I could talk to you 'til I'm blue in the face about your psychic, Scarlett, I've tried, but you need to know she's tapped into fallen angels--demons."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, you sound just like mother. Ya'all are so old fashioned. I can't believe it!"

Lee set a hot piece of blueberry pie, topped with vanilla ice cream, in front of her. She shoved it aside in one of her fits of "pity pouts".

"So what's gonna' happen that's so hairy? I just figure if the power, the banks and the whole country goes down, I'll just kick back...catch up on all the issues of 'Field and Stream' I haven't read. What's supposed to happen?" Lance probed. He stopped eating pie and looked at his older brother.

Horace sighed heavily. "Do we really want to hear this?" he asked. "I think not!" But Marianne touched his arm lightly in an obvious placating gesture of caution.

Jesse took a deep breath and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "The Bible is precise--even the math in it can be proven. There is exquisite precision in prophecy which proves itself between the Old Testament and the New Testament--then, when we see its fulfillment, even if you didn't believe before that it was God's Word, that fulfillment will convince you." He looked around the table. "There are 522 prophecies in the Bible about the return of Jesus--500 of those have been fulfilled." He sensed that Lee was silently praying that the Holy Spirit would use him to reach his family. "We're getting close. We can look at Israel for a gauge of God's time clock. In fact, Jesus said to take a lesson from the fig tree--that when it puts forth leaves we are to know summer is near...that it is a sign for us to know He is coming soon."

"Boy, is that far fetched," Horace interrupted.

"Not really, the fig tree is the symbol of Israel. Prophecy foretold that the Jews would be scattered among all nations, but God had promised they would become a nation. In 1948, quite miraculously, Israel was made a nation."

"Sounds like gross favoritism to me," Scarlett held a gold compact in her hand, with the other she applied a fresh coat of melon colored lipstick.

Jesse smiled at her. "I could tell you all about that, but not right now," he said. "Now, just to show you how precise the Lord is, 'Scientific American' featured an article awhile back showing that starting in the year 1948, earthquakes began to double and triple. That's another one of the signs--and it started rising in frequency the exact same year Israel became a nation. Haven't you noticed how the weather has gotten absolutely bizarre all over the world?"

"That's from global warming," Lance suggested.

"Yes, perhaps that's true, but let's look at all this from a different perspective. This is what the Bible refers to as the 'beginning of sorrows'. There are to be 'famines, pestilences and earthquakes in various places. Nation will rise against nation', and it's interesting that in the Greek that word is actually 'ethnos', which literally means 'race'. We're seeing all this, and I think there's a famine coming through an attack that takes out our infrastructure."

"Son, this is hogwash! You'd better straighten out your thinking," Horace exploded. "We've seen the blacks and the whites go at it for years--look at the Ku Klux Klan's mission in life. The Jews and the Arabs are always warring with each other. This is no end time sign."

"But it's getting worse, Dad, look at the hate crimes by Skinheads. Look at how our embassies are getting bombed...now we're included in the so-called 'Holy War'...not just Israel being targeted."

There was a silence. "AIDS is a pestilence--it's spreading into the millions all over the world. Satan's started having a real hey-day--look at the immoral filth that comes in over the TV now. When I was a kid, the programs were like 'Leave It To Beaver'--now it's 'Beavis and Butthead', where kids turn off the set and torch their homes. Kids are carrying guns to school--killing their teachers and classmates. Get your head out of the sand and look at the time clock."

"Well, I've just looked at my time clock and I have a date," Scarlett told them. "Got to run, dah'lings. Wonderful dinner, Mother." She kissed her Daddy on the forehead and was gone.

"Scarlett has left the building!" Lance mocked the famous Elvis announcement.

Marianne began picking up the empty pie plates, "I'm really worried about her. I think she's drinking a lot, and this psychic thing is so dangerous. She's got crystals and pyramids all over her living room. Jess, you've just got to talk to her. She won't listen to me--never would."

"All of you, just get off Scarlett's back. You're always picking on her," Horace lambasted them.

"Not picking on her, Dad, just terribly concerned. I don't think you realize how vulnerable she's making herself."

"Vulnerable?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "To whom? Men?"

"Well, yes, with her drinking, but I was really referring to being vulnerable to Satan. All those practices she's into are rooted in Satanism. She might just as well be into grave robbing, pentagrams and Satan worship. It's just that consulting horoscopes, psychics and tarot cards has a deceptively prettier face put on it."

"Oh, come on now! You don't really believe that, do you?" The words were intended as a "put down", but Horace looked a bit worried.

"Dad, do you believe in Satan?" Jesse asked.

There was hesitation in the answer. "No, not...not really."

"Do you believe in Jesus Christ?"

"I guess so. Just what kind of an inquisition is this?" Horace indignantly snorted.

"Jesus believed Satan existed--referred to him as the 'god of this world'," Lee said quietly. "We're afraid Scarlett is being dangerously deceived."

"Whatever. "If that's what they want to believe, fine. I think that's just narrow-minded beliefs, legalistic mumbo jumbo. I dearly love my kids, but I wish they'd go home now. Enough's enough, Horace thought as he diligently cleaned his glasses with the napkin. The nose-piece was beginning to pinch. He'd have to make an appointment with the optometrist.

Jesse looked at Lee briefly, should he press the point further, he wondered? "Dad, you said you believe in Jesus Christ. Do you believe He died for your sins?"

Would the kid never let up? He hated being pressed into a corner like this. "Yes," he answered, "I guess so, but don't you worry about me getting into heaven, boy. Your mother's got enough faith for both of us."

Marianne smiled at him--took his hand.

"You can't ride Mom's apron strings to heaven, Dad. You have to make your own decision. You can't just know Jesus Christ as Savior...you need to know Him as Lord."

That's it! I'm tired, and I'm sick and tired of this conversation. "Don't mean to be rude, but I'm going to go lie down for a bit. I'm really whipped, worked out in the garden weeding around the tomatoes this afternoon." He abruptly left the room.

Jesse and Lee looked at each other, then at Marianne who shrugged her shoulders, "You tried, son, thanks." There seemed to be a heavy sadness in her words.

After dark that evening, Lance grabbed a fishing pole. He and Demian slowly walked out to the pond that he had made and carefully stocked. When he was troubled, he headed for a fishing hole like some men headed for the nearest bar. Jesse's words, Lee's and his father's swirled around like a whirlpool, sucking him down.The moon illuminated the path. Demian seemed to be thrilled at a nighttime excursion with his master. He ran ahead, scouting, then back to lick Lance's hand. They reached the pond's bank. Lance sat down on the bench, and pulled a spinner from the tackle box. "We'll sneak up on a fat one tonight, boy." The dog cocked his head, answering with a high yip.

Fireflies winked their morse code to each other. A bullfrog began to croak on the other side of the pond. A heavy blanket of honey suckle filled the air. Lance tied on the spinner and cast. He knew there was a God. All I have to do is look around at nature and I know He's there. Isn't that enough? Do I have to turn myself over to Jesus Christ to qualify to get to heaven? Jesse's words came rushing back, "You can't just know Him as the Savior, you need to know Him as Lord." Just exactly what did that mean? Demian laid his head down on enormous paws, watching Lance work the spinner across the pond.

Mother hauled us to church and kind of chucked Jesus down our throats in doses, like she did spoonfuls of Cod Liver Oil when were kids. Maybe I kinda got turned off at some point...never thought much about it really. Maybe Scarlett got turned off too, but what about Jesse? It didn't work that way with him. His next cast went to the other side of the pond.

"Did you see that, boy, did you?" Demian blinked his congratulations.

He reeled slowly. Jesse sure put Dad on the spot about Satan, but I don't know if I believe in him either. What if all this frightening EMP stuff and AIDS, disastrous weather and earthquakes are really signs of the return of Jesus? The bullfrog began tuning up to sing bass in a barbershop quartet.

Suddenly, Demian sat up. His ears were at alert, and the massive dog began sniffing the air. He began to whine and cry softly.

"What's wrong, boy. What is it?" The dog's hackles began to rise, a low threatening growl began rolling deep in his chest.

"What is it, is there a bear?" Lance reached for the .44 Magnum he had strapped on before they'd come outside. Bear, mountain lion and bobcats occasionally strayed down off the Skyline Drive. He always armed himself at night for protection.

Demian's growl now turned into vicious snarling--teeth bared. Nothing could be seen.

At that moment, a huge lighted craft, the size of a football field,silently swept over the mountains which crested on the Drive, passed directly overhead and disappeared down by the Shenandoah River. There was no noise.

Lance could hear his heart beating in his ears. The blood seemed to drain from his head. He grabbed the bench as he suddenly felt faint. Demian's growling stopped. "That was a UFO...scared the beejeebers out of me too, boy. I didn't think I believed in those things either. I sure do now!"

Demian pressed against his leg. He stroked the beautiful shepherd. "You were going to protect me, weren't you boy? Let's get back in the house, they might come back."

As they walked back on the path, Lance didn't notice the beautiful night or the fireflies, he was too busy wondering just who "they" were. Couldn't have been good...he trusted Demian's judgement. Should he call the Sheriff's Department? Nah, they'd think he was crazy...maybe Jesse...he'd call Jesse. How did UFO's figure into all this?

After a short, restless nap Horace spent some time reading the stock quotes from Friday, and as the evening wore on watched one television program with Marianne. "Think I'll go out and walk off that wonderful dinner," he told her. He often went for a walk around their property once it cooled down at night. The full, brilliant moon backlit Signal Knob, which towered over their two acres. He never looked at it that he didn't marvel at what a privilege it was to live here, sheltered by a mountain that both the North and South had used to signal troops during the Civil War. If that mountain could talk, the stories it could tell. He approached the "Chipping Tree" on the northeast corner of the property, Horace put one arm part way around the trunk of the old tree, like greeting a fond friend. When they had built the house thirty years ago, farmers nearby had told them the story of the tree. Indians had sat beneath its branches chipping arrowheads. Sure enough, they had found several at the tree's base. The graceful old oak had stood for years, staring down at the north fork of the Shenandoah River. He turned and looked back at the sprawling brick home he had worked so hard to build and maintain--so many treasured memories there. He loved to see it at night, warm yellow lights shining brightly from the windows, like friendly beacons into the darkness.

Worry had been slowly sneaking up on him all evening--a thief stalking his footsteps to steal his peace of mind--his nest egg he had worked a lifetime to build...his Social Security. He messaged his forehead. Was Jesse right? Should he be preparing? Could the EMP thing cause a total collapse of the economy? If the bottom falls out of the stock market...if there's no food…rioting? How could all this be happening? He clutched the Chipping Tree, as if it could impart stability from all the years its roots had been firmly planted in the ground. Suddenly his heart became heavy when he thought of Scarlett. Was she really in danger? He had indulged her too much...but he adored her.

An owl hooted up on Signal Knob. It was answered by another down by the river. Horace turned toward the sound. Soft ripples shimmered in the distance as the moon touched the water. There was a soothing balm in the tranquility of the night. Suddenly, a huge lighted craft shot down the river, hovering just above the ripples. There was no sound.

"What the...?!" Horace realized he was shouting, "What is that? It can't be..."

He ran for the house, falling over bushes and brambles until he got into the yard. His heart was pounding. Bursting into the living room he announced, "I've just seen a flying saucer!" He was out of breath.

"Oh, come now, Horace. You know you've been talking about getting your prescription changed." Marianne patted the sofa beside her. "Come sit down...you're overwrought from all we talked about today."

"I'm telling you, woman, I saw a flying saucer!" Didn't this family believe anything he ever said?

"Give me the 'phone, I'm going to call the Sheriff's Department." While he waited for 911 to connect, "You believe in all this Devil stuff, but you can't believe me when I say I've seen a flying saucer?...

"911, do you have an emergency?"

"Yes, this is Doctor Wilson out on Route 55..."