Apocalypse in Paradise

By Xlibris US

Apocalypse in Paradise is a supernatural story that is a manifestation of the end time prophecies from the Word. Themes in modern society that are most troubling are reflected in this supernatural thriller. These disturbing events speak to the presence of evil in our society and around the globe. Issues like genocide, racism, white supremacy, gun proliferation, severely debilitating drug abuse, increased epidemics of infectious diseases, pedophilia, sexual assault, and the lack of a moral compass in modern society. Just like Babylon.
The story takes place on a tropical island that has a military installation with a diabolical colonel, who like Captain Cook, tries to destroy the Polynesian islanders. Furthermore, he has his sights set on the rest of mankind. Colonel Strauss, like Hitler before him, wants to fully restore the Aryan race. Disgusted about the election of an African American president, Colonel Strauss is bent on ridding the world of the colored people, black and brown. And lets not forget the Jews. Theyd missed some in the gas chambers and death camps. His diabolical plan is to insert a horrible plague-a fatal disease-into humanity. The only hope is a life-saving vaccine that will only be given to white people.
The story begins with a prologue that highlights the catastrophic events occurring on the beautiful tropical island called Nardei (Nar-day), located in the southern Pacific Ocean, as a result of the implementation of Colonel Strausss diabolical plan. It has been twenty-nine days since the ill-fated luxury ocean liner, Tropicana, left the port of Honolulu. Most of the passengers were either sick or dead. Kate, the nurse from the cruise ship, was now sick too. She still could not believe that evil could exist in a place so beautiful that it had been compared to the Garden of Eden. In this majestic setting, evil was running amok. And why not? Lucifer could quietly get his hold on the world from such a remote location. A sneak attack, if you will.
Kate, the nurse on the Tropicana, has just found love with a Hawaiian warrior named Kimo, the leader of the islands people. And sadly, now she was dying of the sickness. She knows that the end draws near.
The evil present on the island is reminiscent of the days of Captain Cook, when he sailed into Kealakekua Bay in 1788 and exploited the islands people. Ghastly incidents occurred, like decapitations, mutilations, human sacrifices, and rape of women and children, darkening the sunny days that were once bright and majestic in this tropical paradise.
Now history was repeating itself.
Today, the village is burning. Once again, the decapitation of the warrior men was happening. The heads were stuck on stakes in front of the village heiau, an ancient temple of worship. The same demon in Cooks day is orchestrating the unfolding calamity on Nardeia horror so great that scores of local people are taking their own lives, jumping from the high cliffs into the raging ocean crashing below on sharp outcroppings of rocks, death by drowning. Kate was not going to give in to the compulsion to commit suicide.
Kimo, her new love, and the other village men are currently on a mission to invade and occupy the military installation to steal the life-saving vaccine. They dared to enter the lair of the beast. Colonel Strauss, a Nazi, a white supremacist, has a plan to restore the Aryan nation. He intends to destroy not only the island but he seeks to impose the eugenic goals of Adolf Hitler. Would Kimo and his men really be able to defeat the military of the United States? The odds were against them.
Pastor Kua, the village preacher, joins Kate on the beach where she is watching the magenta sunset. Would it be her last? After all, she has the sickness. Pustules, sores that were bleeding, covered most of her body. She was already experiencing the hemorrhaging from her eyes, nose, and mouth. It gave her a dead vampire look.
Despite one disaster after another, Pastor and Kat

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493154005

Book preview

PROLOGUE

And I saw, and behold, a black horse and its rider had a balance in his hand.

—Revelation 6:5

Twenty-nine days have passed since the ill-fated luxury oceanic liner, Tropicana, left the port of Honolulu. Most of the passengers were either sick or dead. Kate was sick too. She would be dead in a few days without the vaccine. She still couldn’t believe that evil could exist on this beautiful Polynesian island called Nardei (pronounced Nar-day). A place so beautiful that it had been compared to the Garden of Eden. In this majestic setting, evil was running amok. And why not? Lucifer could quietly get his hold on the world from such a remote location. A sneak attack, if you will.

Just when she’d found love, the end was near. And not just for her and the people living on Nardei, maybe the world. The end of the world. Well, that wasn’t quite right. It was the end of the world for people of color. Non-whites. Including spics, Japs, Russians, and Arabs… well you name it. And, of course, Jews. They’d missed some in the gas chambers. Unfinished business you could say. That was the intent of the evil one. He was a white supremacist. Surely, Lucifer was bent on a mission. Unless Kimo and the other men could stop him. They were ancient warriors who had prevailed many times before. The irony was that these Hawai’ian warriors, with their dark skin, dark eyes and black hair, had fought battles against white men for centuries.

Since the days of Captain Cook, the island’s people were always leery of white foreigners. And with good reason. History repeats itself.

When Captain Cook sailed into Kealakekua Bay in 1778, the Hawai’ians believed that it was Lono, the god of rain, fertility, harvest, and prosperity. Cook’s ships, the Resolution and the Discovery, were greeted with much aloha spirit. Ten thousand Hawai’ians, who paddled canoes, swam in the bay, or stood on the shore, greeted the ships. However, they were soon disillusioned.

After being exploited, some of the hungry Hawai’ians stole food from the ships’ stores. In retaliation, the ship’s crewmen bombarded the villages, set fire to their places of worship, raped girls and women, and killed scores of the villagers. Some of the warrior men were decapitated, their heads stuck on poles and displayed on the ships. They also killed women who refused to give in to their attempts to rape them. Many of the village women contracted syphilis.

This history was repeating itself now.

Today, the village was burning. Once again, the decapitation of some of the men in battle was occurring. Their heads were put on stakes in front of their heiau, an ancient temple of worship. The same demon in Cook’s day was orchestrating the unfolding calamity. A horror so great that scores of local people were taking their own lives, jumping off the high cliffs into the raging ocean crashing below on sharp outcroppings of lava rocks. Kate would not give in to the compulsion to commit suicide. Not yet anyways.

As she sat on the beach, she smelled the burning of the homes and buildings in town. The acrid smell of gunpowder permeated the air. She also smelled burning flesh. It was a smell unlike any other. Not something you got used to either. No matter how many days of the burning stench, it was offensive. Worse, it was repugnant. Between the smoke and the illness, her lungs ached as though an elephant was sitting on her chest. Her eyes stung from the polluted air. Tracks of blood-tinged tears trickled down her ravaged face.

More shrieks and cries rang out.

She watched the older Polynesian medicine woman that she had come to admire and love walk down to the shoreline. She took a bundle of ti leaves that were bound together with braided twine and threw it into the water. She was chanting in Hawai’ian and her arms were wide open as she embraced the ocean and its powerful force that it generates. The setting sun glistened golden on the glassy surface of the calm waters.

Dammit, Kate muttered as she felt some sand underneath her. She got up and saw there were cockroaches everywhere! A large 747 cockroach, a monstrous bugger, crawled over her foot. She swatted it away. Another one crawled onto her other foot. You couldn’t kill these pests. They seemed impervious to destruction. Kate laughed like a hyena out loud. She had lost it. The roaches may be the only live critters left if Kimo and his men couldn’t steal the vaccine from the military installation. She was thinking about her life—the choices she’d made—wishing things had been different. If only she hadn’t rushed into marriage.

But he had swept her off her feet. It was a whirlwind romance that had been intoxicating. He’d been her knight in shining armor. He was older, confident, and charismatic. Shortly after they wed, he changed. He became venomous in his words. Oh, he’d be sorry, roses-and-chocolates sorry. But that didn’t reduce the toxicity of the words. Every week, he became crueler in his verbiage. Finally, it had turned physical, especially when he drank. The physical assaults increased in the severity until… the gun. He bought a gun. When he was liquored up, he liked to take it out and show her. Sometimes he’d point at her. All this was typical of a woman who finds herself in an abusive relationship. What a mistake! What a fool she’d been! She laughed again. Then she let out a sob that caught in her throat. She coughed so hard she bent over. She spit up some bloody mucus. Her gums were bleeding, so she had the taste of metallic copper in her mouth. She was so weary. Maybe suicide was the way to go. She didn’t want to suffer for long except she still hoped that Kimo and the village men, some mere boys, would secure the life-saving vaccine. Hurry back Kimo! she wished, Before I’m gone.

She heard a dog barking a high-pitched warning sound. Kate turned to see a small white dog racing toward the shoreline, kicking up sand as he ran past Kate. He stopped at the water’s edge and snapped at the small waves coming up onto the beach. Kate knew it was the dog that Kekela had adopted after he found it foraging in the trash near his house. The dog was probably missing him and trying to find his ocean-loving master. Kate looked at the dog and said, What do you know?

Kate, said a man approaching her from behind. He coughed as a haze of smoke filled the air and was carried on the trade winds toward the ocean. The local man was the town’s pastor. He was disheveled and dirty. He didn’t have the illness. Not yet anyway. He sat down beside Kate on the beach mat. He had aged remarkably over the past few weeks. His dark eyes were red with fatigue. His black hair had dramatically turned gray.

That yappy dog! He’s probably scared too.

Like the rest of us. Kate sighed.

Pastor, any news? she asked. Her face gleaned with sweat. Her limp, stringy red hair hung down over her face. Her T-shirt and shorts were wet with perspiration. Fever burned like a furnace within her. The pustules on her face were weeping, and the smell of their oozing was nauseating. A dull ache behind her eyes became a searing, sharp pain when she looked up to Pastor Kua, because the sun was behind him. She flinched. Her eyes were light sensitive.

No. No news. He looked down at his feet. He was wearing slippers. His feet were filthy, covered in red dirt. There were scratches on his feet and legs. Warrior stripes.

And what about Kekela? A loud cry of anguish rang out. It stopped abruptly. A gun had silenced the person. Man or woman? Can’t tell.

He’s still hanging on, said Pastor. He pointed to the dog who was sitting near them, looking on them solemnly. That little white dog has been standing guard. He smiled. What about you, Kate? Shouldn’t you be on the ship where you can receive the medicinal? Besides, it’s not safe to be out here alone.

Yeah. I should go back. I just needed to get off the ship. It’s a floating morgue. The smell, the dying cries of anguish… A cockroach ran up her bare, pale leg that was spotted with a red rash. Goddamned cockroach! She swatted it away. Whoops! Sorry, Pastor. Unabashed, it ran up her arm. She ignored it, too weary to fight a cockroach.

Why is this happening, Pastor? Why? cried Kate. Despite the hot day, she shivered.

Those who worship the darkness create chaos, death, and destruction, he said. Dark forces have been unleashed. The real question is, can we turn the tide?

Kate nodded. She knew that they were at the mercy of God’s grace.

Remember what Jesus said to the Jews in their hour of despair: the kingdom of God is within you. He sighed deeply.

Come on. Let me escort you back to your room. He extended his hand. Come on. He offered his hand. Kate looked up at him. He saw that her hands had erupted into pustulant sores. Her eyes were totally bloodshot, a backdrop for her bright, blue eyes. For a moment, their eyes locked. She looked for hope in his dark eyes. She found it. He saw courage in her eyes. Or maybe it was faith.

Against all odds, Kate still had hope.

Not yet, Pastor. I want to watch the sun set. It may be my last.

What could he say? It was true. He replied, Do you want me to stay, or do you want to be alone? He fixed on those red eyes.

I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with. Actually, that wasn’t true. Kate was in love with Kimo. She wished he was here. He was her soul mate. She smiled at the thought. It actually hurt to smile. The crusty, inflamed pustules on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth felt like they were splitting her face. Cracking. Snap, crackle, pop. Whether she was laughing or crying, it pained her. Please, dear Lord, send Kimo back to me! she prayed silently.

You look like hell, said Pastor. He sat down beside her.

Thanks. I feel like hell. Besides, you don’t look so hot yourself, she rebuffed. She tried not to smile. Her whole face throbbed. When she returns to her room on the ship, she’d put some of Hannah’s magic salve on the erupting sores. And she’d have one of her magic teas that had a powerful pain relief effect. Hannah’s magical pharmaceuticals came from knowledge that has been passed down from one generation to the next. She leaned in to Pastor, feeling comforted by his presence. No words need be spoken. Pastor’s love enveloped her. He soothed her forehead by caressing her hair, much like a parent does with an ailing child.

It had been another day of death and destruction. Even by the ocean, you could smell the death in the air, carried by tropical breezes. Sometimes the scent of plumeria underlies the smell of death. No surprise really, that a virus would be the ultimate killer. After all, more people have died from viruses than anything else in man’s history. Lucifer, himself, was the master of this most lethal virus known to mankind. It had killed many a queen and king over the centuries, including King Kamehameha of Hawaii. Both noblemen and layman alike.

Through the ages, this killer virus, orthopoxvirus, decimated populations and changed the course of history. And so it would again.

Kate, the nurse on the Tropicana, sat on the cooling beach as the sun sank into the distant horizon. Cotton-candy-pink skies turned into a magenta sunset. Ribbons of blue-black ink closed out the day and welcomed the darkness. Kate mused that the end of time may be at hand, just as the great prophet Nostradamus had predicted by studying the stars in the night sky. Was this the era of the trials and tribulations at the end of humanity, just as the Bible has prophesied in the book of the revelation of Jesus Christ, as told to John? Human history had a beginning, and it will have an end. There will even be a climax.

A climax that is a story of wickedness.

Kate wondered, What time in human history are we in? She knew all too well that there was a great deal of evil and wickedness in the world. Babylonian wickedness. In fact, it seemed like Babylon was seeking to establish itself again.

It appeared that the age of innocence is gone. Long gone.

Maybe Kate’s worldview was jaded by her own traumatic experience as a young girl.

Is this the climax or the end?

Maybe that time had arrived—Judgment Day. When you really thought about it, the most important aspect of the end of time was that it meant that time had run out to make the right choice. Let’s hope that she was on the right side of the conflict between God and Satan. Kate knew that when that fateful day arrives, you better hope that you made the right choice—that you are on the right side of the battle—because the door closes. Shut and sealed. One door is the door to Armageddon; the other, the door to the kingdom. Before that fateful day, there was supposed to be an increase in celestial activity, more comets, eclipses, and shooting stars.

With that in mind, Kate looked up at the night sky and saw the first star shining brightly in the east. She always prayed on the first star, and tonight was no exception. In fact, it had never been more important. She had had a fever since yesterday. Pustules, bleeding sores that were very painful, had erupted on her face and hands, on the palm of both of her hands and feet—the hallmark signs of the worst plague in the history of mankind. She knew that she too had the sickness and might not survive.

Time was running out.

She prayed for a miracle.

The survival of all humanity was in the balance.

CHAPTER 1

Come, gather for the great supper of God, to eat the flesh of captains.

—Revelation 19:17

Two and a Half Weeks Earlier

6:17 p.m.

Katherine (as her mother called her) or Kate (the new and improved model) was starting over with a brand-new life. After a bad divorce, the charming young woman was setting out on a wonderful adventure. Lord knows, she was ready for an adventure! In fact, it was long overdue. Smiling to herself, she thought about all the changes she was making in her life. Not so long ago, she was timid and not so sure of herself. Her self-confidence was in the tank. In the throes of an ugly breakup, her self-esteem had plunged to the edge of the abyss. Her husband, or rather ex-husband, had a young new bride—a saccharine sweetheart. A bottle blond, she had an IQ that matched the blond locks. Her capped teeth made her smile dazzle, along with blood red lipstick on enhanced Botox lips. Rather like Bucky Beaver goes Hollywood.

For a change, she was being bold. She could hardly believe her luck—getting a job as a nurse on a luxury cruise ship. After six months on the Honolulu-Nardei cruise line to the Polynesian islands in the Pacific Ocean, she would then fly to Athens for a four-month stint in Greece. So far, the cruise had been all that it was cracked up to be and then some. The weather had been perfect with sunny days boasting tropical breezes and starry, starry nights.

As a nurse practitioner, she knew the tropical sun was much harsher than in her hometown of Long Beach. A California girl, she knew to avoid sunbathing. This new career put her at odds in ducking the hot rays. Even in the sun’s reflections bouncing off the ship’s exterior walls and ocean surface proved to be a challenge. Being a redhead, she easily burned; still the perks of the job were worth it. Her freckles across the bridge of a straight-lined nose drew attention to her vivid azure-colored eyes. All these qualities laced together with a new outgoing nature made her talk about her age of thirty-one calendar years as just a bad rumor. Tall with agile movements, she was the picture of health and happiness and perfect for a nurse. A fine specimen of a mix of beauty, health, and purpose, she was leading a purpose-driven life that included both service to others and to herself. She was doing it, living a balanced life.

Being on this cruise ship traveling through the Polynesian islands was a dream come true.

The Dinner Buffet

Cruise lines were well-known for excellent service and food to die for. Her ship was a great example. Every night there was a fabulous dinner buffet. Over the entrance to the dining room was a sign in Hawai’ian that read Kahea ai. Ai a mo’ona, meaning Come in and eat all you want. It was true that Hawai’ians love to eat. And she too had been eating all that she wanted. She had promised herself that tonight would be the last night that she would overindulge or suffer the consequences.

Earlier that day, an eight-year-old girl needed her attention. Apparently the youngster had tried to use a boogie board to catch some waves. Instead, she had tumbled in the small wave set and been thrown to the ocean floor. In a state of panic, she had swallowed some of the salty ocean water. A kind Polynesian man had come to her aid and helped her on to shore. She was mostly just scared. Not only did she scare herself, she had scared her mother too. To show her gratitude, the mother wanted to give him a monetary gift. She wondered if Kate could find out from the captain, or perhaps the pastor, how she could reach him. She told Kate that he was a short man who had unusual amber-colored eyes, like tinted glass shining in the sunlight. The mother handed Kate a torn piece of paper with his name as she had requested. Kate agreed to follow-up with somebody. She smiled. There were still kind people in the world who were generous in spirit.

The aloha spirit.

She sat at the captain’s table. He liked to drink way too much. Thank God he wasn’t really driving the ship. And thank God his men were seasoned shipmates. It had been smooth sailing so far. She was deciding whether or not to have another plate of shellfish. I mean, really, can you ever have too much crab? Lobster? Prawns? There was an array of local seafood, including a’ama crab, opihi, limu, and different dishes of raw and dried fish. She supposed she would find out later if she had overindulged. In the morning, she would have to jump on the scale in the health clinic to assess the damage.

Kate, you just might get some cases of severe indigestion later tonight, teased Captain Hardy. His voice was loud and slurred.

He was on his fourth cocktail. He had been doing cruise ship voyages since he left the navy eight years ago. He had been divorced since then too. In fact, that was also the onset of his drinking problem. He had one kid he never talked about. Kate could tell he was lonely. She could also see that he was drinking himself to death. He had the bloated look of an alcoholic with his bulbous red nose covered in broken spider veins. Soon he would excuse himself to go smoke on the outside deck. Another nail in his coffin.

Well, I’ll be there right with them, drinking milk of magnesia!

On that note, she decided to get some more lobster. When she returned, she saw that the captain was gone. She hoped that he didn’t fall overboard. She could hear the conversations of the nearby passengers who seemed to agree that you really couldn’t eat too much of the gourmet delights. She dug in, glad the captain had left.

She opened up a local newspaper to peruse. Apparently, there were some signs that the volcano on Maui, the Haleakala (House of the Sun) Volcano, might erupt. It had not erupted since around 1790. Before that, the earliest eruption is said to have occurred between AD 1480 and AD 1600. Another old island. Haleakala is a massive shield that comprises 75 percent of the island of Maui, so the island’s people were nervous. The National Guard had been put on high alert.

Other guests at the captain’s table were engrossed in a lively conversation. A University of Hawaii student was talking about the practice of cannibalism in ancient Hawaii. What a dinner conversation!

Kate put her paper aside.

Honestly, they were cannibals, said the student, a twenty-one-year-old anthropology graduate student. She was traveling with her parents, celebrating her birthday. She was excited, chatting away. Course, lots of things are exciting when you’re twenty-one.

As the legend goes, it was the god, Ku-waha-ilo, the father of Pele, who first introduced human sacrifices and cannibalism.

Honey, I don’t think this is an appropriate dinner conversation, said the mother.

She gave her daughter the look. The daughter was hapa, meaning half-and-half. In her case, she was part Caucasian and part Hawai’ian. Hapa children are usually very attractive, and it was true of Emily, with her beauty and brains.

Actually, I find it kind of interesting, said Kate. She had introduced herself earlier. Of course I’m a nurse, so I’m not easily grossed out.

Yeah, go on, chimed in another dinner guest, a German American cop from Detroit, sitting at the table.

He found it interesting too, and he wasn’t easily grossed out. Did he mention that he was a detective? A homicide detective.

Okay, said Emily. Now she was encouraged to share more about cannibalism. It was a practice, not for food but as a means of punishment or revenge on their enemies. Bodies of their slain enemies were cooked and then consumed by the victors of war. Dead meat. She gave a sly smile.

You mean they ate dead bodies? asked the cop.

He was really thinking that they ate dark meat. He had no problem with that. You do what you have to survive all right. Survival of the fittest. Now eating white meat would be grounds for decapitation. Ask Captain Cook and his crew. The white folk were the ones that should survive and prevail. This girl was part-nigger as far as he was concerned, not hapa, so he’d play along. But he didn’t believe in interrelations. Whites should mate with whites. Otherwise, it would dumb-down the race. Now, Kate, well, she was a vision of white beauty. Like Snow White.

That’s kind of the idea about cooking them first, Emily laughed. The greatest insult to one’s enemy was to say, ‘I will roast you!’ Gives new meaning to a roast, doesn’t it?

They joined in her laughter.

I will tell you that if a guy says to me, ‘You look good enough to eat!’ I run! she sputtered out between bouts of laughter. Or what about ‘She’s a man-eater’!’

Passengers at the other tables were looking at them, wondering what was so funny.

Pretty funny, said the amused cop.

The homicide detective was thinking about the barbecue chicken on his plate. Bon appétit.

I wonder what we taste like.

He too was on a roll.

Like chicken breasts or thighs or rump roast or maybe pork butt. Hey, he’s dead meat!

He laughed as he picked up his fork and ate a piece of the barbecue meat, savoring the bite for dramatic effect.

I’m enjoying this dude! He’s dudilicious.

He shoved more meat into his mouth. He licked his fingers and said, Finger-licking good!

He was thinking, This is dark meat I’m enjoying—a chicken thigh, and he smacked his lips.

They roared with more laughter.

Great with dipping sauce! Or with liver pâté! Or tongue soup! Or pig’s feet soup, you know the soup made out of a cop’s feet!

The detective was out of control. His laughter was infectious and another round of laughter began. He sobered up as he thought about how he could take care of this uppity girl of mixed race. Emily’s days of boastfulness were numbered as far as he was concerned. The different races weren’t supposed to mate.

We’re all gonna need some milk of magnesia later or a straitjacket, kidded Kate.

She did worry about indigestion, not because of the conversation but because of her huge intake of rich foods tonight. She would pay later. Clearly she was a glutton for punishment.

Cannibalism is the supreme act of defiance, said Emily, still catching her breath. Mess with me, and I’ll gobble you up and enjoy every bite with hot sauce. That’s pretty defiant.