Terror By Day

By Janie Baetsle

A strange and deadly virus is sweeping into the country. No longer does terror belong only to the dark of night. Now it has worked its way into the light of day. Where did it come from and why? The truth is hidden by a secretive group of seven who meet in an old, abandoned warehouse. It is their goal to strip away the freedom of the United States of America and bring her into a socialistic regime, where a select few rule over many. It is the election year of 2020, and the current president is running for a second term. He loves his country and is doing everything possible to protect its citizens. His enemies know that he will win by a landslide if they don’t intervene. And so they do. Devices are developed to interfere with the election process itself. The 2020 election is stolen. Although prewarned that this would occur, the president chooses to let his enemies proceed as planned. It is the only way that their plans will be uncovered for all to see. Christians are baffled as to why God hasn’t intervened. Many lose hope through the long months ahead. But the truly born-again Christians stand firm and hold onto their hope, finding themselves putting their trust in God and not man, just as they should have done all along.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798886440225

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was the month of March in the year 2020, the day before St. Patrick’s. Spring was fast approaching, but it had not yet arrived—not by calendar date or any visible signs of nature. The winter snows were gone, but a chill permeated the air, necessitating the wearing of coats or jackets. Noontime found a middle-aged couple, James and Susan Beckford, sitting at a table in a quaint little restaurant, enjoying the great food they always found there. It was a delightful place, roomy yet cozy.

Television screens were mounted everywhere, displaying news broadcasts, sports, or game shows. And yet their presence was not in the least bit disturbing; rather, it added a bit of flavor to the overall atmosphere.

Too busy enjoying the food, the couple spoke very little. James was a distinguished-looking man who appeared younger than his age in spite of the telltale graying at his temples. His dark-blue suit and white shirt complemented his blue eyes and deep tan. Even though he was a financial planner working out of his home, he had a healthy schedule of enjoying the great outdoors. His wife, Susan, carried an air of sophistication tempered with a warm friendliness that others were easily attracted to. She was all of five feet tall and small in build. Her light-brown hair flowed easily over her shoulders complementing her hazel eyes and radiant complexion. Although you might call her a conservative dresser, she was attractively attired. Being a financial planner as well, she worked alongside her husband. Anyone looking at the two could see the true meaning of peace and love. To them, this day was just like any other in spite of the disturbing rumors that had surfaced about some strange virus sweeping into the country. The couple spent no time discussing the matter. They were solid born-again Christians, and fear was just not part of their lifestyle.

*****

It was the waitress who brought the news. She was of a thin stature and wore gold-rimmed glasses. Her hair was tightly drawn into a ponytail running midway down her back. As she spoke, her rosy-hued complexion evolved into an ashen gray. An aura of fear filled her eyes. The couple watched the transformation with amazement. Fighting breathlessness, she spoke. The Governor is going to shut everything down tomorrow at noon because of the virus. I am not going to have a job, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. She finished with a faraway look in her eyes, as if she herself could not believe the words that she had just spoken.

Oh, surely that can’t be true, James spoke first. Are you certain? he asked with an expression that was gentle, yet in want of an answer.

Yes, I am, the waitress replied with a finality that left no room for dispute. She moved off to wait on other customers, struggling to suppress tears.

What do you think is going on? Susan asked, incredulously watching the waitress as she headed away.

I don’t know, James answered. "If this is true, then things are really getting out of hand. Even when the flu was rampant, it never came to this. Something is very wrong somewhere. We need to pray." With that he bowed his head, taking Susan’s hands in his.

Finishing their meal, they left the waitress a generous tip and offered encouraging words. The tip she was grateful for, but the encouragement was left hanging. They wished they could do more.

Before they returned home, they needed to do some shopping. The stores seemed the same as ever, and the shelves were amply stocked. If something was amiss, it was certainly not yet evident. As they drove through the streets of the city, all seemed perfectly normal, the streetlights following their sequential pattern of turning from green to yellow to red and back again. No sirens were sounding; just the audible noise of the usual traffic flow filled the air. The sky had turned to a dingy gray.

Once back home, curiosity led them to turn on the television.

The waitress was right. The media was tripping over itself about the governor’s actions. She was closing down the state because of the virus reportedly running rampant. Only essential stores would be permitted to remain open. Essential was already stirring up a hornet’s nest as to its interpretation—just what did it encompass? It soon became clear that it was simply a matter of speculation falling far from the dictionary definition but seated comfortably within the political one.

James and Susan would watch things closely for now, such as any indications that the economy was suffering to the point that they needed to activate protective measures for their clients; most importantly, they would pray.

*****

Within an old, abandoned warehouse, an elite group of seven slowly ascended the five flights of wooden stairs, holding on to the thick oak railings for support. The steps were safe but resounded with a disturbing creak in response to the weight placed upon them. The elevator had stopped working long ago.

Some of the attendees had to stop and rest at each landing before continuing on, just to catch their breath and calm the rising beats of their hearts. A few disgruntled comments could be heard during the ascension as to why a more suitable place couldn’t be found, but this meeting place had been carefully chosen. It belonged to one of the members, Mr. Tom Brown. Tom was a highly successful businessman well known in the city for his thriving furniture store and his impeccable reputation.

This abandoned building was the perfect place to meet. It stood just shy of the city limits and had a foreboding steel fence surrounding it—the kind which had razor-sharp barbwire spiraling across the very top. The back door was hidden from view, but there was also a front and side entrance. Weeds scurried up the sides of the wooden structure. Vacated birds’ nests hung in disarray just below the eaves. The building itself was five stories tall. It was the very upper story that had been chosen. The room that had been selected was plain but suitable. It held just enough chairs along with a table, and the lighting was adequate. Most importantly, all the windows were blackened, and the lock on the door was old but secure.

Once the group had reached the fifth floor, Tom unlocked the door to the room. On a ledge just inside was another key belonging to a metal cupboard bordering the south wall. Ted Harmon, the head of the group, reached for it, then slipped it into the slotted keyhole of the cupboard. The door commenced to open, revealing a highly technical communication device. Resembling a computer and a phone system all in one, it had the ability to communicate worldwide in a coded fashion so that no one except the sender and the receiver could interpret the data.

Ted was a tall handsome man of middle age who dressed in sporty attire. He was smooth-shaven and wore his brown hair slicked back into a fashionable style. He was an attorney working at the Shortsville law firm in the heart of the capital city itself. He began to assemble the equipment as Timothy Duncan, its creator, hurried to assist. Together they connected the wiring into the proper receptacles, matching the lines into the color-coded ports.

Although the building had been abandoned long ago, it still possessed electrical service. Tom, the owner, had been reluctant to have the power disconnected. That had, indeed, become a godsend—although God himself certainly had no part in it.

Once the device was up and running, Ted opened his briefcase, pulled out a handwritten message, and handed it to Timothy who keyed it in. The machine automatically changed it over to a code. He clicked on the location it was to be sent to and waited. There was a pause, and then a coded response from the recipient came through. In just a few minutes, it was automatically translated into English. Timothy handed the results to Ted, and he was the one who revealed the contents to the group. The message says that Flight 69 is the one we are looking for. It will arrive tomorrow at noon. There will be a box addressed to Mr. Tom Brown on board. Will you be able to pick it up? Ted asked as he turned toward Tom.

Yes, Tom responded. I will let you know when I have it in my possession. I’ll use one of the company vans to transport it. No one will think it strange, for our business often makes runs to the airport.

Confirmation was sent to the sender that the message had been received, and the group gathered around the long wooden table and took their seats.

Besides Tom, Ted, and Timothy, four other persons were in attendance. Two were from the major media networks: Bonnie, an attractive young woman with short blonde hair; and Elsie, a gray-haired middle-aged woman, harshly dressed, and appearing much older than her chronological age. Finally, there were two handsome young men who were distinctly dressed in expensive suits and ties. Both of them, Terrance and Dave, had succeeded in obtaining prominent positions within the cabinet of the current president. Having convinced themselves that they were doing their country a favor, they willingly had joined the group of seven. If one were to explore the underlying motivational factors of all the members, power and wealth would be the common denominators.

Positioned at the head of the table, Ted began to speak. As of today, we have achieved more than we had ever hoped for. The virus has now begun to take a full-fledged effect on the American economy as shutdowns are occurring from coast to coast. Our foreign friends have done well in getting it established. Now we need to start centering on the upcoming election. The contents of that soon-to-arrive box will contain equipment that will be fail-safe in turning the election results our way. At a later date, special agents will be sent to provide instructions as to its implementation.

It was Terrance, one of the current president’s staff, who spoke up. Our president is highly intelligent and seems all-knowing at times. How do we keep this below the aura of his suspicion?

Ah, Ted replied with a smile of satisfaction. That is the beauty of this whole operation. Even he shouldn’t be able to determine what is going on. He will be much too busy with the current pandemic. You see, it’s like what they call a false flag, where the predominant problem obscures the visibility of the real one. Just the same, keep a watchful eye on things since you are working closely with him and let us know if you foresee any problems.

I understand, and I will, Terrance responded thoughtfully, glancing at his counterpart, Dave, who was nodding in agreement.

Now, Ted continued, "we need you, media people, to expound on this pandemic above and beyond its implications. If we are to establish the fear factor within this nation, there must be just reasons such as a rising death toll. Use your imaginations. You have been quite good at that already, I must say."

Bonnie and Elsie blushed at the commendation and nodded their heads in acknowledgment of their instructions. Both had gained fame as news reporters. They welcomed this new challenge and seemed almost giddy with excitement.

I think that covers what we need to discuss now, Ted stated, "so we will adjourn. Everybody, heads up, for we are embarking on a mission which far exceeds that of anything in the past. Be vigilant."

The group nodded in accordance and began to leave without the usual social exchange among them. All were strangely quiet. All were deep in thought. The equipment was carefully disassembled by Ted and Timothy and locked back in the cupboard. Tom made one final security check and then followed the other two out.

The sky was now a stagnant steel gray, and although not in the forecast, it very much seemed like rain was soon to fall. Ted could feel it in his bones—that familiar achiness that predicted the weather much more accurately than those professional meteorologists.

Chapter 2

A homeless man, Todd Banner, was making his way out of the heart of the city on his rusty brown bicycle. Across his shoulders hung a bulging backpack—although faded, a picture of the United States flag was still visible on its well-worn canvas with the words Proud to be a Veteran occupying the space just below. Todd had received the medal of honor while serving in the military. His pride for his country vastly outweighed any ill feelings about his present lot in life. He blamed no one. He had been traumatically wounded while in the service, leaving him with a post-traumatic stress disorder. Once he recovered physically, it was his friend who urged him into a partnership in a computer business. However, the business failed, leaving him jobless, bankrupt, and homeless. His stress disorder went into full swing, preventing him from pursuing other options. He had no family to fall back on, and the shelters