Apocalypse Dawn (59 page)

A nerve twitched on Remington’s jaw. His eyes looked like cold glass as he gave a small, imperceptible nod. “Fine, Captain Mkchian. We’ll let you have your little praise party. But I want it over soon.”

“As long as it takes, Captain,” Mkchian said. “God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform. You have your satellites and we have ours. The Syrians won’t come this way without being noticed. We’ll have time to get into position.” He smiled. “There’s something you’re forgetting, though.”

Remington didn’t ask.

“Most of Syria is Muslim. Doubtless, they are watching these proceedings on television. In the Koran, it says that the spirits of soldiers who fall in holy battle will immediately go to heaven and be granted special privileges for their sacrifice.” Mkchian looked out on the stream where the baptisms continued. “Those Syrian soldiers will see this, and they will think that these men are preparing to make that same sacrifice.” He looked back at Remington. “The Syrian soldiers will fear us more for this. They will be afraid because they will think we will know no fear.”

The song coming from the men standing in the lines swelled to fill the tense silence that stretched between the two captains.

Turning away, Remington fixed Goose with his gaze. “This is your fault, Goose. You should never have let this go this far. You stay with these people until this is finished.”

“Sir,” Goose objected, “I should be back at the base.”

Remington cut him off. “You should. When this is finished, if you decide you want to be a Ranger again, you come back then.”

Before Goose could even attempt a reply, Remington turned and walked away. He boarded the RSOV and didn’t look back as the vehicle headed back toward the Ranger encampment.

Goose felt torn. He couldn’t disobey an order, but he didn’t feel right. He needed to be at the Ranger base to make certain everything was getting done.

“Your captain,” Mkchian said, “is making a mistake by punishing you this way.”

“I knew he wouldn’t want the baptisms going on,” Goose replied. “I should have stopped them.”

Mkchian gazed at him in open speculation. “Then why didn’t you?”

For a moment Goose thought the Turkish captain was faulting him as well. Then he saw that Mkchian’s gaze was open and honest, without challenge or accusation.

“I didn’t stop it,” Goose said, “because it felt right.”

Mkchian tapped Goose on the chest. “God has touched your heart, too, First Sergeant Gander. No matter how much pain you have to go through to endure, you will be a better man for it. You cannot avoid His touch.”

“I don’t know, sir. I could have been mistaken about this whole thing.”

Mkchian pointed his chin at the men being baptized. “If you are, there are a lot of men with you.” He looked back at Goose. “In the meantime, you should know that you have made a powerful enemy today.”

Goose shook his head. “The captain’s angry, but he’s my friend. Not an enemy.”

“Sometimes they are both, Sergeant. Just be careful.”

Goose tried to find something to say to defend Remington. They had been friends for years. They would be friends forever. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Mkchian.

“In the meantime, though,” the Turkish captain said, “know that you have my friendship. For what it’s worth.” He extended his hand.

“It’s worth a lot,” Goose said, taking the other man’s hand. “I don’t take friendships lightly.”

“Nor do I. God keep you, First Sergeant Gander, for I fear you and I have only begun to see the horrific things that are in store for us.” Mkchian released his hand and walked back to his jeep.

“God keep you, Captain.” Goose stared after the Jeep. Unease stirred through his mind, leavening his thoughts and building with each passing second. He was concerned about his relationship with Remington. The captain had been mad at him before, even back when they had both been sergeants, but they had never been in circumstances like these. He’d never seen Remington take things so personally.

Mkchian’s final thoughts were very disturbing as well. The man had sounded sure of himself, like he knew what was coming and it was more than just the hasty withdrawal from the Syrian front. And whatever it was, Goose had the definite feeling that it was much, much worse.

United States of America

Washington Dulles International Airport,

Washington D.C.

Local Time 5:43 P.M.

From the instant Delroy Harte left the helipad aboard USS Wasp in the Mediterranean Sea and flown west, time turned backward. In Turkey, the clock had moved forward into tomorrow, and the local time there was 0043. He knew that because as he arrived in the restricted airspace over Washington, he realized he’d forgotten to set his watch to local time.

But in the nation’s capital, the time was 5:43 P.m., and harsh afternoon sunlight poured through the jet’s windows. He’d flown for over fourteen hours, in the helicopter from Wasp to the C-9 Skytrain Captain Falkirk had requisitioned for him at Sigonella Naval Air Station in Sicily, Italy. The navy primarily used the Skytrain for cargo and passenger transportation as well as forward deployment logistic support.

Delroy closed his father’s Bible gently, pulling the cloth bookmark into place in the book of Revelation. During the long flight he had slept off and on. He’d eaten, too, but the skeleton crew had left him alone.

Large enough to seat 115 commercial passengers, the C-9 was presently set up with half its space allotted to cargo and the other half to passengers. Delroy was the only passenger. It felt odd to be sitting on an empty plane.

Once, about halfway through the flight, he had awakened to find himself alone. He’d remembered how Chief Mellencamp’s body had disappeared with him sitting right beside it and how he and the other crewmen aboard Wasp sorted through the piles of clothing left throughout the ship’s decks after the disappearances. For a moment, he’d thought everyone had vanished from the Skytrain.

Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case.

The pilot’s cabin opened and a young lieutenant stepped through. Usually the C-9 carried only two pilots and necessary attendants. Evidently this flight was carrying three pilots; this man wasn’t one of the two Delroy had seen since the last leg of the flight had begun.

“Chaplain Harte,” the young man said.

“Yes?” Delroy scratched his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown there during the flight.

“We’re going to begin our descent in five minutes. You might want to put your seat belt on. They had a lot of damage at Dulles when the, uh, incident occurred. They haven’t gotten it all cleaned up.”

“Will there be any problems?” Delroy preferred the sea, calm and wide open. And as long as a person stayed on top of it, the sea was a fine place to be. Flying, in his view, was a necessary evil.

“None that we can see,” the lieutenant assured him.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome.” The lieutenant looked at all the papers and books that Delroy had scattered around. “Will you need help putting things away?”

“No,” Delroy answered. “No, I’m fine. You go on and take care of your business, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant nodded and started back to the pilot’s cabin.

“Lieutenant,” Delroy called.

“Yes, sir.”

“There is one thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve got a meeting with the joint chiefs as soon as I can get there.” Delroy touched his face. “After a flight this long, I’m not exactly presentable.’

“Captain Falkirk had us set up a liaison for you as soon as you’re on the ground, sir. You’ll be met at the runway with a fresh uniform and toiletries.”

-1bank you, Lieutenant.” Delroy turned his attention back to his papers. He should have known: Falkirk was a very able and thorough captain.

The C-9 hit a patch of turbulence. His papers and books scattered everywhere. Delroy pushed himself up from his seat and started gathering them. Before he knew it, the lieutenant was kneeling in front of him, picking up the papers and study guides.

“I can get this,” Delroy said hurriedly.

“It’s all right. Frank can land the plane by himself if he needs to. This won’t take us but just a moment.”

Then Delroy realized he was trying to keep all of his research to himself. He felt embarrassed to have God’s Word scattered around, out there for everyone to see what he’d been doing. Embarrassed-he couldn’t believe it. How long has it been since I felt like that?

The young lieutenant flipped through the end-times prophecy book Delroy had been referencing “The end of the world, Chaplain?” the lieutenant asked with a small smile. “Is that what you’ve been reading about?”

Delroy heard the lieutenant’s inflection. Was the man trying to be sarcastic? Anger replaced the embarrassment that Delroy had felt. He knew he was having a hard time of it. He’d had little sleep in the last forty-eight hours, what with Mellencamp’s death and the flight in to Washington. Colonel Donaldson’s response had weighed heavily in the chaplain’s mind as well. There was no guarantee the joint chiefs would listen any more than the Marine colonel had. That thought settled into Delroy’s brain with a vengeance.

“Yes,” Delroy said, “the end of the world. That’s what I’m reading about.”

The lieutenant handed the books over. “My grandmother used to try to scare me into being a better kid with that stuff.”

“With what?” Delroy stared into the young man’s ice-blue eyes.

“The end of the world,” the young man said. “The-” he held up his hands and made quotation marks in the air- “Apocalypse.” He laughed. “Like anybody could really believe in that.”

“You don’t believe the Apocalypse is going to happen?” Delroy stood.

“I think it’s a story,” the young lieutenant said.

“A story.” Delroy couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yeah,” the young lieutenant said. “Every culture has a story about what’s going to happen when the world ends. If you don’t like the Apocalypse, maybe you could tune in to Ragnarok. The Norse invented a mythology for the end of the world, too. And if you don’t want to hang your hat on the truly ancient beliefs, you can also go for the scientific end of the world as we know it.” He smiled. “Take your pick. The hole in the ozone. The melting polar caps. Getting hit by a meteor. Or even the slow death of the sun eventually burning itself out.” He shrugged. “The last one could be dull but festive.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Delroy drew himself up to his full height, towering above the other man. “How dare you talk to me like that. I am a superior officer, Lieutenant.”

“Are you a superior officer, Chaplain Harte?” the lieutenant mused. “You’ve been sent on an important mission.” He made his voice deep. “Convince the Joint Chiefs of Staff that God has come and taken his children.” He laughed. “Do you know how pathetic that sounds?”

“I’ll have your name, mister,” Delroy said gruffly.

“Sure. Read it for yourself.”

Delroy looked at the man’s name badge but couldn’t quite make it out. The letters seemed to be squirming, constantly staying just ahead of his ability to focus.

“You don’t believe God exists,” the smiling lieutenant said. “You’ve served aboard Wasp for five years, and you haven’t believed.”

“Shut up!” Delroy roared.

“You haven’t believed,” the man taunted. “That’s why Colonel Donaldson didn’t buy into your story.”

“Donaldson is afraid,” Delroy said in a voice that was only somewhat below a shout. He didn’t understand why one of the other pilots didn’t come back to find out what was going on. Unless they are all in on it. The thought filled him with fear.

The lieutenant grinned. He whispered, “Maybe I killed them all.”

“Who are you?” Delroy demanded.

The man shook his head. “The question isn’t who am I, it’s who do you think you are? How can you be a chaplain if you don’t believe?”

Delroy walked to the pilot’s cabin door and tried to open it. The handle didn’t turn. Knotting a fist, he pounded on the door. “Open this door.”

“How can you expect anyone to believe you,” the man asked, .when you don’t even believe yourself?”

Delroy whirled on the man, barely maintaining the panic that filled him. “I do believe!”

“Why? Because a lot of people turned up missing sixteen-plus hours ago and you don’t have an answer? Oh, man, if you can’t explain it, if things don’t go the way you want them to, it must be God. Are ignorance and fear and a need for some kind of immortality what it takes to make you a believer, Chaplain Harte?”

Guilt washed over Delroy, so grim in its perfection that he felt himself crumbling before it like an earthen dam before the raging torrent of an unexpected flood.

The man shook his head. “I can’t believe they sent you. There’s no excuse.”

Delroy trembled, held powerless by the accusations that poured from the man. Every one of them rang true. He had been guilty of exactly what the man said. He hadn’t believed. Not for a long time. And was that what it took to make him believe? The disappearance of millions of people?

It only took the death of one to make you doubt. The realization shook Delroy to his core.

“And what message are you going to take to the joint chiefs, Chaplain Harte?” the man taunted. “Lock up the women and children, the Antichrist is coming.” He covered his mouth as if in embarrassment. “Oops, forgot. All out of children, aren’t we?” He paused. “Including you, Chaplain Harte? God took poor little Terry in the prime of his life.”