Читать книгу BEWARE THE COUNTERFEIT RAPTURE! - Sandra Ghost - Страница 8

California now sustained massive raging forest fires surpassing any former by historic proportions. Thousands of people lost their homes, some lost their lives.. The state of Texas had suffered temperatures of over 100 degrees for three straight weeks, then storms with torrential rains stalled over the area causing many deaths and flooding. Two hurricanes back-to-back struck the east coast of the United States. There was flooding in China and It was estimated at least 5,000 were dead and missing. Tornadoes ripping through the center of the U.S and terrorist bombings had the world on edge--where would they strike next? But what seemed to stoke fear more than world-wide terrorism and the savage attacks of nature was the now blatant display of UFO's in so many countries.

Horace watched CNN, wincing with each new disaster. The weather had upstaged much talk of a prospective EMP attack; however, Lance continued to prepare. He bought gray metal shelving at Wal-Mart, and lined the perimeter of the basement walls. Canned goods were stacked alphabetically. One entire unit was stacked with vitamins, over-the-counter drugs, toothpaste, shampoo, soap and bandages. He stocked up on batteries, candles, sterno and lamp oil in case the generator should fail. Two shelves held gallon jugs of bleach to treat the well should there be flooding.

Lance bought two identical chainsaws. Should one break, the other could be cannibalized for parts. Each newscast he saw served to light another fire under him. Demian watched all the feverish activity, and wondered why his master didn't play with him much anymore. Something was happening to Lance, as though he were being drawn toward some destiny he didn't even understand. Something seemed to be pulling, tugging at him. Could it just be that he felt the responsibility to be the custodian of his family, he wondered?

He began to put up cyclone fencing, with concertina wire on top, to solidly secure the property. The day after the second earthquake in California, Lance called the National Earthquake Center to find out just how safe the Front Royal area was. He was told it was on a "blue crystalline base", one of the safest places to be should earthquakes be occurring. It wasn't until he made that call that he had a sudden realization . Apparently, what Jesse had said that day at Sunday dinner had taken root in him. The roots apparently had been growing--branching out within him. It was going to get "hairy". It was the "beginning of sorrows", the prelude to the return of Jesus.

The realization broke over him like a brilliant sunrise, illuminating everything in sight with a warm, golden glow of curiosity, a new excitement and expectation. Was this really the cause of the tugging he had felt? What in the world was happening to him? He vowed to get some quality time alone with Jesse, and straighten out some of his thinking.

The hurricane which had lashed the coasts of North Carolina and Virginia sent heavy bands of rain deluging those states. It stalled over the state of Virginia for days, causing turmoil and havoc. At first, the creeks and streams began to rise, then bloated and overflowed their banks. Walls of water and mud washed away campgrounds on Route 340, in a snarl of tumbling travel trailers, propane tanks, lawn chairs and picnic tables. Fortunately, the Warren County Sheriff's Department and local volunteer fire companies were able to get everyone evacuated in time. Then, as the overflow from the creeks and other tributaries reached the Shenandoah River, it too began to rise rapidly.

The residents of Shenandoah River Estates were accustomed to flooding. It was taken in stride as one of the small deficits to be endured in order to be able to enjoy the wonderful life on the deep water. Usually there was plenty of time to evacuate. Everybody knew the drill. They had weather radios which remained tuned to the weather service, and understood the gauge readings taken from the bridges at Front Royal, broadcast every twenty minutes--17 feet above flood stage would impact their subdivision. The evacuation plan was always the same: when it got to 15 feet above, they would help each other load trucks and cars; tie down oil and propane tanks; shut off the power.

Kelly Norton had just finished scrubbing the kitchen floor when the telephone rang. It was Brian calling from the store. He was on his morning break. "How bad's the river up, hon?"

She leaned against the dining room table, and saw a spot on the floor she'd missed. "It was over the dock the last time I looked. We've seen it that high plenty of times."

"Have any of the neighbors started to evacuate?"

"Really, Brian! I have better things to do than to keep tabs on the neighbors."

"Don't get mad, baby. Have you got the weather radio on?

"Yes, but they're saying its just twelve feet above flood stage."

"Okay...check with you later, baby. I love you."

"Love you too." She attacked the spot she'd missed on the kitchen floor, then laid down on the couch with a copy of the SUN, a tabloid newspaper. There was a big article warning of "End Time Events" about to happen. She'd been meaning to read it. Kelly looked around the living room, and put a pillow behind her head. Her mother had helped her decorate. Red chintz country curtains, overlaid with crisp white ruffles were hung at the casement windows. Matching chintz pillows marched along the back of the long, brown couch. Their wedding gifts had been practical: tall, matching brass lamps; a VCR; a small Sony television set; dishes and a toaster. Brian's elaborate stereo system dominated one wall. They had filled in with yard sale items for everything else they needed, but it was cozy and cute.

She looked at their senior prom picture in a silver frame on the maple end table. Why in the world had she picked a pink gown? It clashed with her auburn hair. At the time, she had thought it was "chic". Brian looked uncomfortable, but tall and handsome in his tux. My tall, dark and handsome husband, Kelly thought. They had only been married for a year. NOAA weather radio continued to broadcast that the Shenandoah River gauges at the bridges in Front Royal were still reading twelve feet above flood stage. Kelly had worked at the restaurant until closing at 1:00 AM the night before; soon, she dozed off.

Even as she had situated herself on the couch, had she looked, she would have seen the water was rapidly creeping into the yard toward the house.

No one would know until it was too late--but the river gauges were broken. The weather radio was broadcasting erroneous information. The Shenandoah flows from south to north. To compound the problem, Page County--the county below Warren--opened its floodgates...without notifying Warren.

Sergeant Mike Terry had spent all morning helping to evacuate the campgrounds. He had just driven to Morgan's Ford, a low water bridge, and reported by radio to the county that it was covered. He'd never seen it come up so fast before. He instructed the county to notify the highway department to close the road. Mud was caked on his uniform and he headed for town to change clothes, but as he passed the sign to Shenandoah River Estates, he felt a strange urge to go down there--see if they needed help in the subdivision so close to the river. He started down the long dirt road, which had turned to a sea of mud in the last few days. "What a mess"...he said aloud almost hanging it up, but picked up the mike instead.

"105 to Warren County."

"105?"

"Have there been any calls from Shenandoah River Estates?"

"Negative."

"Anybody been down there to check?"

"Negative."

"10-4."

Everything must be okay down there, he reassured himself. I'll turn around up by the next cattle guard. But something seemed to be urging him on. Must be just because I had that weird experience out here that night--you'd think I'd never want to come back here again. I hate this road! But the feeling was insistent that he keep on.

Don Oglethorpe and his wife, Janice, had just finished a quick lunch. Don had had a successful plumbing business in northern Virginia, before he and Janice retired to their home on the Shenandoah River. Don was fondly known as the "Mayor of Shenandoah River Estates", even though there was no such title, but he ran the subdivision's water company, was on the Board, kept his finger on the pulse of the little community.

Janice never wore make-up. Her down-to-earth, no-nonsense outlook on life, surprisingly was lavishly sprinkled with good humor, and a zest for life. She could easily have been a professional interior decorator, as their home reflected a unique flair, but her interests lay in her home, husband and married children. Janice had worked for the police department in Arlington. Every time Don turned on their police scanner, she felt like stuffing cotton in her ears. Their quaint home, filled with antiques, was on the upper road out of the flood-way; however, Don snapped the scanner on to augment the reports coming over the weather radio.

"Still only 12 feet above flood stage--that's not too bad. Sheriff's department seems quiet." Don reached for a toothpick, leaned back in the chair, and crossed his legs. He rubbed at a spot of mud on one of the brown leather western boots. "I didn't drive down by the river when I went up to get the mail...just looked...didn't seem too bad."

Janice cleared dishes and glasses from the round oak table. She shook her head and the short blondish-gray curls bounced slightly. "I'll tell you what's bad--having two radios going at the same time. Why don't you go turn on the TV too, Don? We just might miss something." The words chided, but Janice smiled and started to laugh.

At that moment, Sergeant Terry's transmission came over the scanner.

Don got up from the table, grabbed a navy cap which said, "Friends of the Shenandoah", and jammed it on his head. He pulled a yellow slicker off a hook by the door. It had been raining off and on all morning. "I'd better go meet his car. He's probably just coming to check the height of the river. Back soon."

Janice watched from the window, shaking her head and smiling as her husband jumped in his GMC Jimmy and drove off. They'd been happily married for fifty years. It was always the same--wherever the action was, Don would plant his cowboy boots right in the middle of it.

As Mike Terry maneuvered the Sheriff's Department car through deep ruts slick with mud, his car rounded the bend and started down the hill toward the river. It had started to rain again, pelting bursts lashed the windshield. The wipers beat a strong cadence, but could scarcely clear it away. He gasped...couldn't believe the scene below him.

The river rushed and eddied, furiously churning around the houses, taking them prisoner. Large trees swept past in groups, like rafts racing northward. Propane tanks, a Terry travel trailer...now a storage shed rushed past. How could this possibly have happened so quickly, he wondered? Mike depressed the key on the microphone:

"105 to County."

"105?"

"We need manpower at Shenandoah River Estates--flooding bad! Get a hold of Emergency Management."

Don's blue Jimmy pulled alongside. He started to speak and looked down the hill, "Oh, my God! How could this have happened so fast?"

Mike shook his head. He and Don knew each other from occasionally having coffee together at the little store in town. "I don't know, but we've got to get down there fast. I've radioed for help."

Don jumped out of his truck, opened the back, and grabbed a shiny, black pair of fishermen's waders. "Let's go," he yelled. Sirens were now wailing from two directions: Company 5, Shenandoah Shores in the County, and Company 1 as backup, from town.

Mike hit the switch for the light bar on top of the car, and started down the hill on foot, following Don. Flashing red and blue beams of light turned the heavily falling rain to tiny colorful strobe lights. Kelly Norton's red Tracker still sat in the driveway. The river licked at its doors. It was not until then that they heard the screams above the wailing of the sirens. The little yellow house was surrounded by water. Canada Geese swam serenely by looking in the windows. The pressure of the water made it almost impossible to force open the door on the small back porch. Once open, it was slow moving through the kitchen . Muddy water was now swirling above their knees. Kelly Norton stood in the middle of the living room, clutching a silver picture frame to her chest. She trembled violently--her brown eyes were glazed. The screams coming from her were blood curdling. Ugly, brackish water already covered the end tables. Couch pillows floated and bobbed slightly from the current the two men had made.

"She's in shock," Mike told Don. "Kelly...Kelly, it's all right...come on! "She continued to scream. It was a high pitched keening.

"Kelly," Don tried to calm her. "We're going to get you out of here. Come on."

There was a slight flicker of recognition in her eyes. The screaming stopped abruptly.

"Come on, honey. We have to get you out of here...now." Don put one arm around the girl to steady her and began leading Kelly through the water to the door.

"Our things...our things..." She began to weep again. "I fell asleep...woke up when I felt water lapping at my hand." Her eyes wildly looked around the room. "Brian's stereo...oh!" The water was coming so fast now that the speakers were covered.

"Kelly, come on now, we've got to go quickly," he spoke soothingly, slowly moving the girl toward the door. Mike steadied her on one side, Don on the other, as they slowly moved through the current toward an ambulance waiting on the upper road in a cluster of fire trucks.

She still clutched the Senior Prom picture to her chest--it was the only thing the young couple would be able to salvage.