The 13: Fall (37 page)

K
eene had been there with the informant for nearly a half hour. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even with the knowledge of an impending attack. There simply was no easy way to believe what the man was suggesting. Was this what the Prophet was talking about? If it was true, it had to be. But how?

“I ain’t playin’!” Hector shouted angrily. “They kill my little brother, man! And something bad is about to happen! I’m telling you as a favor.” He hung his head and wiped his eyes. “I don’t know why your government don’t know about this, CIA, but I’m telling you. Someone had to mess up big to miss this.”

Keene stood there dumbfounded. There was no way this could be true. An entire army couldn’t march on the United States’ border and not be detected. He had to call Jennings. He reached for his phone and felt the buzz against his leg. He looked at the display.
Funny
, he thought.

“I was just getting ready to call you,” he spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Get back here immediately,” Kevin Jennings ordered.

“Yeah, about that,” Keene said, “I think I need to stay here awhile. I need to check something out.”

“No, you need to get back here immediately. Turn on the TV.”

“What’s happened?”

“Just do it!” came the reply.

Keene pushed past the group of men and pushed the button on the television sitting on the makeshift stand. It only took a few moments for him and the others to see what was happening.

Every channel had interrupted programming, now covering the breaking news. Plumes of black smoke rose into the sky from devastated buildings. Bridges and highways melted into a pile of searing red metal. Ash and debris covered the entire landscape. Cars were turned over and blown to bits. Then the camera changed. A new city. Same result. Then another. Then another. Finally the images ended. The cameras returned to the news station. A disheveled-looking man in blue jeans and a sweater sat in front of the camera. He opened his mouth and said the words that would change the course of history.

“Ladies and gentlemen, less than ten minutes ago, the entire West Coast of the United States of America was attacked. It appears to be a nuclear strike. Every major city from San Diego to Seattle. The death toll has to be in the millions….”

“You see!” Hector was hysterical. “I told you!” he said. He turned and headed for the door. “Maybe next time, you’ll listen.”

Keene dropped to his knees and stared at the television. It was as if he were outside of his body, looking around. The room started spinning, and he felt the contents of his stomach begin to churn. He doubled over and threw up on the wooden floor.

He heard the sound of the motorcycles outside, kicking up gravel and dirt as they sped off. And then he heard a voice that sounded far off, calling to him. He realized it was Jennings, still on the phone he had clutched in his hands.

“Jon!” the man yelled again.

He raised the phone to his ear. “I’m here.”

“You need to get back here immediately. They’ve nuked the West Coast. There are reports coming in that they’ve already entered in through the north. They’re coming here. I’m evacuating the president and all non-essential personnel.”

Keene was still trying to regain his bearings. “What—what do you mean? The north?”

“The Chinese! Are you listening to me?”

“What’s the damage?”

“Looks like somewhere between twelve to fifteen cities. More than likely Russian suitcase nukes. The fallout is going to be pretty bad, but it should contain itself west of the Rockies.”

“What about survivors?”

“We’re trying to get word for everyone to head east. Get away from the blast radius as quickly as they can.”

The Prophet had been right. And they hadn’t stopped it. But Keene had been expecting an isolated attack. Maybe one of the major cities, or a subway, or … or anything but this. This was a full-scale act of war on the United States. He took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“Hector said that there were upward of a hundred thousand Chinese ground troops south of the border. How did we not know?”

The line was quiet for a moment before Jennings answered. “I honestly don’t know. We should’ve. It had to be Marianne Levy.”

“How could she hide it! How could she manipulate our entire intelligence system like that? We’re talking about national security!”

“With the amount of anonymity and power that stupid law gave her, there’s no telling what she could’ve done. You need to get back here. I need you here.”

“For what! It’s already happened. We failed.”

“Did you not hear me? Right now the rest of the country’s about to be under attack! There are troops moving in.”

“Troops! What are you talking about? How could they get troops here?”

“They’ve been in Canada for ten years drilling, Jon. They have taken over entire towns. Who knows what they’ve been doing behind closed doors?”

Just then the ground beneath his feet began to rumble. There were a few old pictures on the walls that began to shake. The windows started rattling, and a drinking glass that had been sitting on a counter bounced its way off the ledge and shattered on the floor.

“Hold on,” Keene said.

He knew explosions, and this didn’t feel like one. Whatever this was, it wasn’t another bomb. He ran outside and looked off in the distance. There was a huge black cloud on the horizon about a half-mile wide. And it was getting closer rapidly. In just seconds, the sky grew dark as the sun was masked by an entire fleet of supply planes, artillery carriers, and FC-3 Chao Qi fighter jets—the newest version of the supersonic, fully equipped Chinese combat fighters—flying over his head in perfect formation. The sound was deafening as the hundred or so aircraft flew so close to the ground he could actually see the foreign markings on the underbelly of each plane. They shot out of sight as quickly as they had arrived.

Keene raised the phone to his ear again. “Did you just hear that?”

“Yes. About blew my eardrums.”

“I’m not going to be able to fly home. That was an entire fleet of Chinese military planes. Fighters, supply and infantry carriers. They’re not coming. They’re here!”

Again he heard a faint rumble. He scanned the landscape to see what it was. He couldn’t make it out at first, but then it came into view. Another tidal wave of death coming by land. And it was closing in on his position rapidly. He had to move.

“And they’ve got ground troops, too,” he said getting back on with Jennings. “This is bad, man. You’ve got to get our boys in the air right now!”

“Already doing it as we speak. But we’re in a tough spot here. We’ve got less than eighty thousand troops stateside. And most of them are here on the East Coast. The rest of our country is vulnerable. The 101st in Fort Campbell is the only substantial base we still have west of the Appalachians. Fort Benning and Parris Island are all we have in the South. And they’ll all be overrun in a matter of hours if this attack is what it looks like.”

Keene started to say something, but Jennings cut him off.

“I’m needed at the White house. Get back here soon as you can. Drive all night if you have to. And stay out of sight.”

The line went dead.

Keene tried to take a moment and assess the situation. The Navy, what was left of it—no thanks to the last two administrations—was spread across the Middle East. There were maybe a handful of ships in the DC area. There were, at best, fifty to a hundred combat fighter jets between Andrews and Norfolk, with perhaps a few more at Benning and Parris Island. If another attack happened—as long as it was a conventional attack—and if there was at least some measure of warning, they might have a fighting chance. Especially since the attack on the West Coast had just happened. He was pretty sure that every one of those flyboys were already in the air.

And they were headed west.

He grabbed the phone and called Jennings back.

“What is it?”

“Where are the flyboys?”

“They’re already in the air headed out to meet the Chinese fighters.”

“Call them back! Now!”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Call whoever you have to call and get them back. Now, Kevin. The Chinese aren’t here to destroy us. They’re moving in. They want the oil, remember?”

“So?”

“The only way to effectively move in and take over, is if they have no opposition whatsoever. The West Coast was a distraction. They’re drawing us in. The highest concentration of anything military we have here is right there on the East Coast. With those boys headed west, DC is a sitting duck. Call them back right now! And get the Navy back here!”

He took one last look at the military convoy headed toward him. They were less than a mile away, at least twelve football fields wide, and rumbling over the Mexican desert, headed toward his homeland. He jumped in the car and sped back the way he had come.

   CHAPTER 61   

B
oz wrapped his arms around Taylor and held on to her as she cried. He could feel his own eyes begin to fill up.

“What are we going to do?” she sobbed. “We should’ve stayed and found the Prophet.”

He held her close and patted her back lovingly, like a father. “There’s nothing we could have done to stop this.”

She cried even harder. “I just don’t understand. Why didn’t President Grant tell the people? Why?”

“He tried,” Boz said. “This isn’t Calvin’s fault. You know that.”

She pulled away from him and said, “I know. But all those people—”

“Have continuously turned away from Him,” he said, interrupting her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Listen. I don’t believe for one second that God wants us to be destroyed.”

“Then what is all of this about?” She pointed at the TV.

“I don’t know yet. But I know deep within my soul that this is not done and done. The Prophet said that God wants the nation to repent. He doesn’t want to destroy us. He wants us to turn back to Him.”

“So what do we do?” She wiped the tears away and got herself back under control.

“Pray with me. I have no idea what else to do.”

Boz got on his knees and reached for Taylor’s hand. She knelt down beside him and took his hand.

“Father,” Boz began, “today You have shown us Your sovereign power. And we praise You, that You indeed are Lord of everything. But God, we are so hurt by what we are seeing right now. Our people, our families, our nation is being destroyed. And God, we know that You have warned us to turn back to You.”

He stopped for a moment and wiped his eyes.

“Father, please, have mercy on us. Have mercy on us, oh Lord, that we might have the chance to repent and turn back to You. Show us what we need to do. We pray this in Your Son’s holy name. Amen.”

Just then Boz felt his phone buzz. He clicked the button and said, “This is Boz.”

“Mr. Hamilton,” the voice said. “Please put me on speakerphone. I would like Ms. Taylor to hear this, as well.”

“How did you get this number?” Boz asked, knowing who it was.

“I think you already know that, Mr. Hamilton. Please, do as I have asked.”

Boz cupped the mouthpiece and whispered to Taylor, “It’s him. It’s the Prophet.”

He held the phone out and clicked the speaker icon. “We’re here. Go ahead.”

They could hear the man sniffling in the background. “Please, excuse me,” he said, his breath hitching. He sounded as if he had been crying.

“What do you want?” Taylor said sharply. “Why didn’t you tell us this was going to happen?”

“I didn’t know,” he said, sniffling again.

“What do you mean, you didn’t know!”

“Calm down,” Boz said to her.

“I only told you what I was told. I didn’t know anything specific. All I knew was what He gave me to say.”

Boz cleared his throat. “Then why are you calling us? It’s a little late to stop anything now.”

“I’m calling you because He told me to,” he said.

“Let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “You mean God literally talks to you? Like He did to Isaiah or Moses?”

“You can choose not to believe it if you wish, Ms. Taylor, but yes.”

Boz leaned in and said, “This may surprise you, Mr. Harrington, but we believe you.”