Apocalypse Burning (52 page)

“If you believe Jesus Christ died for your sins,” Delroy said, “and you ask God to forgive you of your sins, you will be saved.”

Floyd nodded. Then he licked his lips. When he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse, but it was with the pain of a child. “I cain’t pray. I’ve tried. I’ve tried for years. I don’t remember how.”

Delroy hesitated. Then he left the porch, approached the old man, and held out his hands.

Floyd didn’t know what to do for a moment; then he offered his hands to Delroy.

“Kneel with me,” Delroy said. “I’ll pray with you. Just repeat after me.”

They knelt there in the churchyard, where faith had started to grow again, a murderer and a broken chaplain who’d lost his faith and found it in a church that had once come to the end of its days. Delroy Harte, despite holding on to his own prejudice and hate and hurt, delivered one more soul to God.

United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 1439 Hours

As they waited on the verdict, Megan stood behind the defendant’s table and stretched, aware that everyone in the courtroom was still watching her.

After the videotape presentation, Colonel Erickson had ordered a fifteen-minute recess. Penny Gillespie had disappeared, presumably to tape a live segment of what had just happened. Benbow had taken Megan back to the small conference room and waited. Neither of them had talked much. Megan supposed both of them were more than a little overcome by what the tape had revealed and by how strong the reactions of the jury and crowd were.

“I never should have doubted you,” Benbow had said at one point. “I knew you were innocent of the dereliction-of-duty charges—”

“I was derelict,” Megan pointed out.

“For good reason,” Benbow said. “We just can’t prove it. What I’m talking about is the Rapture. My mother and my grandmother raised me in the church. I guess I just didn’t listen close enough. Like I didn’t listen to you close enough. I’m going to have to work on that.”

“We all are,” Megan had said.

By the time they had returned to the courtroom, the story of the tape had spread. Media people crammed the foyers and waiting rooms. Several of them called out to Megan to get interviews. However, no one new was allowed into the courtroom.

Megan ignored them all. She still didn’t know if she was going to be free when the court case was resolved. Quite frankly, Benbow was irritated that Colonel Erickson didn’t throw the whole case out, but the problem was that Arthur Flynn waited in the wings, ready to pick over the bones of whatever was thrown his way.

Upon their return, Penny had slipped back into the courtroom, and Trimble offered a mediocre closing argument. Benbow had stated that the evidence, and Mrs. Gander, had spoken plainly enough and anything he added to that would only dilute it.

Then the colonel had given the jury their final orders and sent them on their way.

“Relax,” Benbow said.

“I’m trying,” Megan replied in a low voice. “I feel like I’ve been left hanging here. I don’t know how Goose is. I don’t know where Joey is. I don’t know if Jenny’s all right.”

Benbow was silent for a short time. “Megan, all those things will come. Just give it time. What you’ve been given here today—” he shook his head—“I think it’s just the beginning of a wonderful gift.”

“No,” Megan said. “Do you even know what the next seven years are going to be like? All the lies and deceits and treacheries that are going to take place?” She took a deep breath as images of all those things—of wars and famines and plagues—swept through her mind. “What we’ve seen so far—those people disappearing, the suicides and murders—they’re nothing compared to what’s coming.”

“This has made a difference, Megan. I swear to you, I really think it has.”

Megan glanced at Trimble and caught him looking at her. He quickly turned away.

“I hope so,” she said. “So many people are going to be lost if they don’t start listening.”

“Try to sit down and relax. I’ll bet we don’t hear from the jury again today and they cut us loose at four-thirty.”

At that moment, the door near the judge’s bench opened and Colonel Erickson’s MP entered. “All rise,” the big man said.

“What’s going on?” Megan said.

Benbow looked totally surprised. “If the colonel’s coming back, that can only mean that the jury’s on its way back.” He glanced at his watch. “Seven minutes. I’ve never heard of a return that fast.”

“What does it mean?”

“They made up their minds really quick,” Benbow said. “Could be either good or bad, but it definitely means there’s no hung jury on this one.”

Colonel Erickson took his seat. “Be seated,” he said.

Another MP opened the jury door and let them file back into the room. They took their seats to Megan’s immediate right.

Staring at the impassive faces of the men and women of the jury, Megan couldn’t tell which way the vote had gone. Her stomach rolled sickeningly.
God? God, are You with me?

There was no answer.

Megan forced herself to remain calm.

Benbow reached over to her and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re going to be okay,” he said.

“Captain Seaver,” Colonel Erickson said, “has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, sir,” Seaver replied. He was compact and tanned, an easygoing man with an air of command.

“What is your vote?”

“Sir,” Seaver said, “we decided that we all feel so strongly about this that we want our individual votes counted.”

The colonel looked surprised. “You do have a unanimous decision?”

“We do, Colonel. But we want our votes and our statements made part of the court record, part of the public record of this trial and of our findings.”

Erickson hesitated. “All right.”

“Is that normal?” Megan asked.

“Not normal,” Benbow whispered. “But it happens. ‘Rare as hen’s teeth’ as my grandmother used to say.” His own interest was evident.

“Will the defendant please rise and face the jury?” Erickson said.

Megan stood and faced the jury. Benbow stood at her side.

“All right, Captain Seaver,” Erickson said, “you may begin.”

“Captain Merle Seaver.” The man saluted Megan. “In the matter of dereliction of duty, I find the defendant, Mrs. Megan Gander … not guilty. I believe she was following a moral code higher than the one in the military handbook for which she was held accountable, with no disrespect intended to the service that I love and honor and will give my life for should that need ever arise. We are Rangers, and we serve God and country, and I believe there is a reason for that rank designation.” He took a deep breath. “I also want the record to reflect that I believe there is a God, and He is alive and doing well, Colonel Erickson. I believe He chose wisely when he pulled this woman to Him to work as she did for Gerry Fletcher.”

Megan felt like the floor had opened up beneath her. Her legs trembled and she almost fell, but Benbow was there to shore her up. He held her as, one after the other, the remaining eleven members of the jury all echoed the captain’s statement, changing only their rank and name.

There is a God, and He is alive and doing well.
The message grew stronger and gathered momentum as each juror recited the verdict, and the audience picked up on those words till it became a litany each time, a prayer shared with the other members of the trial.
There is a God, and He is alive and doing well.

Operation Run Dry
26 Klicks South-Southwest of Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 2122 Hours

Trapped by Private Fieldstone’s corpse, Goose struggled to bring the MP5 up as the Syrian soldier stepped into the doorway with an AK-47. Goose fired from the point, trusting his instincts. A line of 9mm rounds zipped up the man from crotch to sternum, jerking him backward.

Goose talked quickly, relaying to Remington what was going on, how the play was busted and there were civilians in the fire zones. The women screamed in terror behind him, causing everything to be just a little more confusing.

At first, with blood all over him, Goose wasn’t sure that he hadn’t been shot as well. But when he moved to shove the dead private off of him, everything seemed to be in working order.

He stood with effort, feeling his bad knee shaking beneath him. Scooping up Fieldstone’s MP5, favoring the machine pistols for the inside work he was going to have to do to get them all free, he said a quick prayer to God, asking Him to watch over the young private. Then he turned his attention to the hallway.

Bracing his back against the doorframe, he peered out into the hall over both machine pistols, crossing his wrists so he had overlapping fields of fire.

Down the hall, a Syrian soldier peered around the door. Goose tracked a short burst across the wall and into the man’s head, knocking the corpse out into the hallway.

“Alpha Leader, this is Prime,” Lieutenant Keller radioed.

“Leader reads you, Prime.” Goose watched the hallway carefully.

“Base has ordered us out of the area.”

“I heard.” Goose still didn’t know why Remington gave the other team orders not to help him. Rangers didn’t leave a man behind when they could help it. Especially not a living soldier.

“Conner got out of the building. Are you and Fieldstone going to be able to get clear?”

“Fieldstone’s dead, Prime.” Goose turned back to the three women.

They jerked back from him, hitting the ends of the chains attached to the collars around their necks.

“Take it easy,” Goose said, “I’m a United States Army Ranger. I am First Sergeant Gander.”

All of the women looked worse for the wear.

Goose didn’t know what they’d been through, didn’t even want to guess at the moment. During his stay in Turkey, he’d heard that some of the drug warlords and terrorist organizations trafficked in white slavery, taking victims from American, European, and Russian women.

“I’m Hannah,” the oldest woman said. She was the blonde who looked like she could be the mother of the young girl.

“Ma’am,” Goose said. He knelt gingerly, turned so he could keep an eye on the doorway. His mind raced, listening to the rapid-fire blasts of explosions outside the building.

All three chains connected to a single eyebolt in the center of the floor.

“All of you get down,” Goose ordered. He stood and shifted, moving around so he was between the women and the eyebolt. He aimed one of the machine pistols at the eyebolt and squeezed the trigger. The 9mm rounds struck sparks from the heavy ring and made it jerk.

Please, God,
Goose prayed,
I can’t leave these women behind, and the later we get started, the harder it’s going to be to get away.

He fired again. This time the rounds chewed through the ring. At the same time, a shadow crept around the doorway. Lifting the machine pistol at once, Goose squeezed the trigger and held it, driving the Syrian soldier back with the 9mm rounds.

Goose switched out magazines, taking fresh loads from Fieldstone’s bandolier. He looked back at the women. “Hannah. Ma’am.”

She looked at him.

“You’re going to have to pick up your chains and carry them,” Goose said. “I can’t do anything about taking them off yet.”