Silent Witnesses

By Sally A. Comer

How does faith survive after wars and natural disasters in a one-world government that worships Darwinism and collectivism? Jesus discussed with his disciples the signs of Jesus return to the earth in the New Testament, as in Matthew twenty-four. Faith in the Bible and worship of Jesus is outlawed. Set in the future with major advancements in technology, the United States no longer exists; there are now seven worldwide regions. The United Northern Alliance, made up of Canada, Mexico, and the United States, is where the story begins, with a group of survivors living outside the protected areas in the wilderness of the former eastern United States. Pastor Ezra and his small group, including men, women, and children, are forced to move to the northern caves in Virginia in hopes of finding other believers and continuing the mission of spreading the good news of salvation through Jesus. Follow the journey of Ezras group and two escapes from the godless protected areas as their faith, trust, and resilience are challenged while they try to survive to find a greater mission and wait for the return of Jesus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490849485

Sally A. Comer

Sally A. Comer is originally from Ohio and now lives and works in the Atlanta area. She has a pit bull terrier named Tank and a cat named Sasha.

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Copyright © 2014 Sally A. Comer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-4949-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4950-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4948-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014915533

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/24/2014

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Suggested Reading

To all those who fearlessly

proclaim the good news.

INTRODUCTION

My endeavor into subjects beyond my comprehension, experience, and capabilities are based on those who know what I do not.

A few years ago, I happened upon a book by Bill Bryson, A Walk into the Woods. Before that, I never contemplated the woods on my own as a means of enjoyment or entertainment. The book reinforced my belief that no good thing happens in woods after twelve noon or before nine in the morning. What I did not expect was that the book is a reference and a handbook of subtle and not-so-subtle dangers of the wild places in the eastern United States. I was not expecting, in return for my time, the enjoyment and entertainment I found while reading this true-life adventure. I rarely laugh out loud, and although I am amused by irony and comedy, I mainly smile at them. While reading Mr. Bryson’s book, I had to stop several times because I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes and could not see the page. Mr. Bryson’s well-thought-out research confirmed my suspicions that the wild places outside of well-maintained suburbs are best observed behind double-reinforced Plexiglas. He made the point that I surely would not survive in the woods if left on my own.

Knowing nothing about even basic camping, I used the US Army Survival Manual FM 21–76 to help my characters survive and find food. I have simplified the concepts in the interest of time and apologize for any inaccuracies.

Likewise, I would like to acknowledge Michio Kaku, who is a professor of theoretical physics at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. He is the author of several national best sellers. His genius is not that he is a best-selling author but that he enthusiastically shares complex ideas about the universe with all of us who are on the other side of the Plexiglas of intellect. Professor Kaku does not horde his knowledge or keep it in the accolades of academia for like minds and only the select few. His books are entertaining; not only does he not dumb it down for the rest of us, but he elevates his knowledge for everyone to enjoy and understand. For Dragon Con aficionados, his books are must-reads. For me, the concepts confirm that God is so much more than we could ever conceive or imagine. He is vast, eternal, and incomprehensible.

I would also like to acknowledge Pastor Andy Stanley and his insights. His book The Principle of the Path gives the reader insights into spiritual laws, just as binding as the physical laws we encounter every day.

I would like to reference R. Albert Mohler Jr.’s Culture Shift, which reinforces truths that will never change. Pilate asked Jesus the eternal question, What is truth? Jesus did not answer Pilate, but earlier in His ministry, He declared, I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me (John 14:6).

As Abraham Lincoln put it in 1862, The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise to the occasion.

I am intrigued by the thoughts and imagination of those who write about the future. Their stories have become best-selling books; they have similar themes and include the spectrum of human drama, which challenges our minds and our concern for the trajectory of humankind. The science-fiction thriller is a ride into the future that captivates our thoughts to the possibilities of what could be and transforms the world of the unknown into manageable pieces to either embrace or discard, depending on your own hopes, fears, and dreams.

Like those talented storytellers of fiction today—and possibly nonfiction tomorrow—I am attempting to join the crowded field of exceptional writers. I don’t claim to be one myself. Because of my bold and audacious attempt to put a cohesive story together that has been told and retold, I must add disclaimers so that you may read at your own risk.

I believe that the Bible is the inspired Word of God, from Genesis to Revelation, and gives us warnings and information as to what to expect and know about the end times. I am no theologian, nor have I studied eschatology. The future in most secular stories is circular, with the hero managing to overcome the world disasters and tyrants, and then life goes on. The thought of the end of life as we know it is the most disturbing of all, that somehow mankind does not manage to overcome the problems started in the Garden of Eden, to John’s terrifying testimony of the conclusion of man’s time on earth. Believers will be participating until the end of time, but who and how is not entirely clear to me. The timetable of events has clues in the books of Daniel and Revelation. I have based the premise of my book on Jesus speaking about the end times in the book of Matthew, Chapter 24.

I don’t have a firm opinion about pre-tribulation or post-tribulation rapture. I leave the speculation about the rapture to those who have a far greater understanding than me. In Matthew 24, Jesus does speak about the events preceding humankind’s conclusion on planet earth, and the warnings are to be taken seriously.

Perhaps this is not an original idea for a book, but it’s my view of what the end times could look like. I apologize for any ideas that are not consistent with Daniel or Revelation. I’m sharing a story that I hope is entertaining and has all the elements that makes readers glad they shared an adventure into the unknown while being safe at home. Most importantly, my hope is that it would motivate you to read the best story of all: God’s love story to you and me—the unfolding plan to break the grip of sin, punishment, and everlasting separation from the One who loves us most and sent His only Son to take the sins of the world away on the cross and give us a home in heaven.

If you like drama, intrigue, heroes, heroines, love, hate, scoundrels, and overcomers, set in the story of humans’ time on earth, interwoven with God’s imagination, creativity, and plans for the future, including angels and the antagonist who doggedly tries to ruin the relationship between humans and their Creator, run out and get a Bible. The Bible is never boring. If you want to know God’s thoughts, who Jesus is, and the comforter called the Holy Spirit, along with what role you play in the drama that is unfolding, the Bible is available and worth every possession you could trade for it. The Bible commentaries I use for difficult passages or for deeper understanding of times and events in the Bible are as follows: Believer’s Bible Commentary by William MacDonald and The Complete Guide to the Bible by Stephen M. Miller. The latter has headings to each book of the Bible, such as Ezekiel: Misery Is Going to Get Company, which invites you to want to be a student of the Bible. For those of you who read books online, Bible Gateway is excellent for organizing your time in reading through the whole Bible with available commentaries and translations.

May you join the real adventure of being a Jesus follower, never boring and never alone. It’s a gift, and yours for the asking.

CHAPTER

1

She looked at the horizon as the sun was rising over the water. Looking over the vastness calmed her racing mind. She was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the beach near the rocky border that separated the sand and the edge of the jungle like vegetation. An overgrowth of an out-of-control mass consisting of a variety of plant life, it was so intertwined that it was hard to separate one individual plant from the rest. It looked as if a green curtain separated the sandy beach from the woods, and appeared impenetrable.

Today the water was calm, the sky clear, the horizon sharp as the huge ball of fire peeked from what looked like the end of the water’s edge. The sunrise was dramatic and sudden, with hues of pink, purple, and turquoise, at first slowly and then it seemed to speed up without warning. She was sitting with her forearm raised above her eyes in anticipation of the brightness of the sun, but slowly allowed her arm to drop to her side, and her eyes closed as she raised her chin to capture the warmth of the ball of fire. The tension in her body drained, her breathing slowed, and her mind was in neutral.

The shadows lifted from her face, which revealed a fresh-faced teenager nearing adulthood. Pale skin, with a smattering of freckles, made her look more childlike than a young woman. Her hair was arranged haphazardly in a half-ponytail, half-bun behind her head with wisps of curls surrounding in a halo of strawberry blonde. Her hair was in reality a mass of uncontrolled curls, defying any attempt at organization.

The warmth of the sun stopped the chill of the early morning. Now her face was engulfed in full light, and she allowed her mind to be at peace; she felt like she was going to drift off to sleep. All was peaceful and—

Rory! Come on; let’s go!

She abruptly was awakened from her trancelike state of mind and was instantly back to reality. She snapped her eyes open. Blinded by the brightness of the sun, she needed to hold her hand in front of her pale green eyes to protect her from the intensity; the sun was now fully emerged from its watery grave, the earth now on its daily rotation around the ball of fire.

Her heart rate instantly elevated, as did her breathing, but in a controlled manner. All the muscles of her body became alert and on the ready as her adrenaline started awakening all her senses at once. Even with her body going from zero to sixty, she rose from her cross-legged sitting position easily and gracefully to her full height of five feet ten inches, and looked around for the high-pitched sound that seemed more annoying by the second.

Rory! Come on; gotta go!

Rory felt she was all arms and legs, and her core pencil like. She had always wished for a more compact body and better-proportioned, frankly more like a woman than a scarecrow. She gained a nickname among her peers as puberty hit: chicken legs. It was bad enough to be skinny, but then to be taller than all the other kids made her appearance seem like a comical error of fate. In spite of an awkward appearance at ages ten to thirteen, now at nineteen her long arms and legs served her well as she proved every day, with her astonishing ability to run and jump, outperforming her peers of the opposite sex. And her sharp, angular body took on some subtle curves and softness, so out of the strange-looking child, a woman with beauty was emerging. She even admitted to herself that her appearance was improving.

From her left ear, she heard him running toward her. She also heard another high-pitched squeaky cry: "Come on; the sun is up, and we still have to carry back the water. It will slow us down … What are you doing? His voice had a whine to it now; Jayce, her ten-year-old brother, was urging her to move. Rory was now motivated to move, but not out of concern for the wild beasts, patrols, or any of a dozen unexpected surprises that were usually unpleasant, but to prevent Jayce from another explosive plea to get going with his most annoying voice. She turned to her left and was now facing him. He was fast approaching in a trot, and stopped abruptly before running into her legs. She bent down to be face-to-face with him and quickly put her left hand over his mouth. She put her right index finger to her lips, and in a whisper said, My ears need to last a few more years, and with that voice, you could puncture eardrums!"

She then raised herself to her full height, moved her left hand away, and looked sternly at Jayce. Jayce was now frowning. He puffed out his lower lip, covering his upper lip with over-the-top drama. His lip started quivering, and he looked like he was going to burst into tears. Rory cocked her head, cupped his chin in her hand, narrowed her eyes and was about to speak—when Jayce started smiling, a huge goofy grin at first, than an all-out smile that showed his perfect white teeth against dark brown skin; his dark eyes danced with enjoyment at annoying his sister.

As she looked down at him, there was little resemblance between the two except for the uncontrolled curls that were in defiance, now moist with sweat and sticking to his forehead but maintaining the curl. In personality and character, Jayce was very much their shared father’s son. Jayce was a happy soul, with an easy laugh; he never appeared mad or angry at the world. He had few expectations, and so was not disappointed when things did not go his way. He took life for granted, and with that had a freedom that Rory envied. She attributed it to his youth and expected that to change as he grew.

Ben, their dad, had the same attitude and joy; it was difficult for Rory to understand. She studied Jayce and looked at his hands and feet, out of proportion to his skinny frame, which suggested that Jayce was going to be tall and lanky like his father. Rory was hopeful that Jayce indeed would grow to be tall, but the odds he would make it to adulthood were questionable.

Rory looked at Jayce and placed her left hand on his right shoulder. She gently turned him toward the massive array of vegetation that once was tamed a long time ago. Side by side, they seemed to disappear into the out-of-control growth of briars, vines, and tangled branches, into a fortress of living greenery. What was not evident from the view from the beach was the well-worn trail that branched out like a living brown and black tree imprinted to the ground. The canopy above them was roof like, and the temperature inside the greenery dropped immediately.

Once inside, they headed to a small clearing to retrieve supplies and the three gallons of saltwater for the journey home. Both Rory and Jayce had satchels with a pouch and a strap that fit snugly from the right shoulder to the left hip, the pouch resting on the left hip, allowing the right arm to be free without hitting the pouch, as both were right-handed. They put these on and then picked up another cylindrical container with a strap that fit vertically over the right shoulder to just below the right hip. It contained a hollowed-out bamboo pole three feet long, and as always, both had belts around their waists that held a foot-long curved razor-sharp knife in front of the left thigh so that the right hand could cross over and with ease remove it from the holder; the knives never left their respective hips except for sleeping. In the pouch were snacks of roasted pine nuts, crickets, grasshoppers, and dried meat, fish, and rattlesnake jerky. They also had jars of fresh water. It would take probably three hours to get back, longer than coming in because they still needed to carry three gallons of saltwater that were in rectangular containers that had to be carried holding the handles, Rory carrying two gallons to Jayce’s one gallon. Rory had each hand occupied with the handle as the saltwater swished back and forth as she walked; Jayce carried his in his left hand, and swished as well.

Rory wanted one last look at Jayce, so she stopped, turning to her right until she was facing him, making sure his equipment was in the correct placement for ease of movement and ability to reach knife and bamboo quickly. She put the water containers down, made some minor adjustments, and then was satisfied. She reached in one of her shirt pockets for the darts that were carefully wrapped together. She unwrapped them, but each one still had a protective wrap at the point. She gave a handful to Jayce, and she took a handful, which she placed back into the right upper shirt pocket; he did likewise. She gave him an approving smile, picked up her load, turned back around, and both started the hike to home.

It was still early morning, but the sun was fully up. It was hard to tell in the jungle like overgrowth, but she was hoping it would warm up quickly. Rory stopped again, crouched down to make one more final adjustment to her water load, and then abruptly stood up—only to smack her head on a tree branch. The pain shot through her skull on the right, and momentarily she saw bright flashes of light like lightning in her head. She groaned, then quickly regrouped, folded her broad shoulders in toward her breastbone, and bent her head down and back over in a contortion that looked painful.

They started off again on the trail, well-worn and traveled but not human made; feral hogs had created it. Rory took the lead, with Jayce behind, both moving with ease and stealth. Jayce wisely said nothing about the painful smack in the head Rory had suffered, but winced with sympathy; he knew it had to have hurt.

CHAPTER

2

They moved in silence, with all their senses on alert. Although the trail was wide enough for both Jayce and Rory, side by side, they maneuvered single file. Hogs were not as tall as Rory, so the vegetation was sporadically above her head making progress slow; she had to adjust up and down, and didn’t want another smack in the head from a branch. Jayce was still short enough that he didn’t have the same problem. As the day progressed, heat would be on their side as the hogs would quit foraging and lie down for naps. That would be the best for everyone, including the hogs, not that Rory had any great hate for them, but she preferred not to run into a group either.

The hogs were massive beasts and thrived; they were to be feared. The females were 300 to 400 pounds; the males were up to a ton, but usually 500 to 600 pounds. They were a hybrid of domestic pigs and wild boars. In spite of the nations’ wars, they did not have a drop in population but increased tenfold; it was only the wild dog packs that kept their population in check. The wild dog packs also thrived and were dangerous, but usually seemed more interested in warring with the hogs than humans, and that was just fine: it kept both warring groups busy.

Though not everyone agreed, Rory had the attitude live and let live. She did not like the hogs; they were destructive, smart, and fearless, and they ate anything and anybody. They were also a disgusting mass of bad smells, bad tempers, and bad manners, relieving themselves in streams and lakes, places where they themselves slept and ate, spreading disease except to themselves. But she did admire their cunning nature, and as long their paths did not cross, she harbored no desire to kill them.

The two things Rory did hate were the rats and cockroaches; they both seemed to have no purpose except to harass humans and spread disease. At least the hogs