The Journey of a Martyr's Companion

By David Allan Campbell

Book 2 of the Seventieth Week Chronicles is work of fiction that picks up the story moments after John Doe and Techie part ways at the end of the fictional portion of Book 1: The Making of a Martyr. It is a fast-paced action story of Techie living on the run, eventually being reunited with John for one last mission. It is a dystopian world where nothing can be taken for granted, few can be trusted, and where the reader is introduced to the beasts of the second WOE. It is a testimony to the hand of God surrounding two of his faithful witnesses, as it displays God's providence that ultimately carries them through to the end. One thing they find in their trials and tribulations is that they are not alone as God provides a mixed cast of characters to see them though, to their own peril. Their relationship with one another is much like that of Paul and Timothy. John used every waking moment to testify to the grace of God, and eventually his protege, Techie, learned to honor his mentor in his own way. It is a story of courage and sacrifice during a period that no one should desire to experience firsthand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885401524

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The Journey of a Martyr's Companion

David Allan Campbell

ISBN 979-8-88540-151-7 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88540-152-4 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by David Allan Campbell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Part I

The Journey Begins

Prologue

Escape and a New Beginning

The Beginning of My New Life

A New Day Dawns

A Haven in the Storm

A New Calling

Ghost Riders in the Sky

An Important Question(s)

Life on Death Row

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

The Leper Colony

Semi-safe?

Time for an Aside

Introducing the Professor

God's Amazing Grace

We Can Never Go Home Again

Heading into the Maelstrom

Best-Laid Plans?

A True Near-Death Experience

A Clean Bill of Health

A Traitor in Their Midst

The Encounter

A Heavenly Message

A Lesson in Salvation

A World of Tent Meetings

Follow the Mississippi

Never Kick a Gift Horse in the Mouth

The Aftermath

On-the-Job Training

The Cyber World of Espionage

The Project

Clara

The Plan

Taking Care of Details

Very Short Notice

The Great Escape

A Time to Catch Up for Old Times' Sake

Part II

The Final Journey

John Cannot Stop Being John

A New Life While Death Comes Calling

A True Town Hall Meeting

The Valley of Despair

A Time to Reminisce

A World of Death and Destruction

Not All Is as It Seems

And Then There Was One

My Last Shoot-out

Spudnuts, a Renewed Acquaintance, and the Final Act

The interstate to the Tri-Cities was the smoothest and safest drive I had experienced in a long time, even if it was only thirty miles or so. The first thought as I drove into town was getting a spudnut from the Spudnut Shop in the old uptown section. I was seriously hoping it was there because it had been ages since my visit, and there were no better doughnuts on the planet. As I approached the uptown area, the presence of what resembled a military police force was everywhere, but no one seemed to pay attention to my car or its Idaho plates. The shop was open and busy. As I pulled in, the aroma brought back some of the most pleasant childhood memories; I knew I was in for a treat but not for the surprise that awaited me.

About the Author

And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

—Revelation 7:14

Part I

The Journey Begins

Prologue

Moments after John and I finished uploading the e-book The Making of a Martyr to the internet, and prior to our parting ways; we set off a small explosive in the server room to cover our tracks. For the next year, I did not see or hear from John, though I always believed that he was still around, plying his trade, his way. Eventually, our paths did cross again, and we renewed our partnership in crimes against the state. Sadly, it was only for a short while. This is my story: the conclusion to John's amazing fanaticism and the last two years of my life as an outcast of this world. If my tale should reach one soul for Christ, I will consider it a victory for my Lord Jesus. Time has run its course for those who are to be martyred for their faith, God's final wrath unleashed upon this world and the return of the King of kings.

I could never have imagined in the past being this excited about what I do now, knowing with certainty that a death sentence awaits me. For as the enemy continues working overtime to search out and destroy all who claim to believe in Christ; more are being added to our ranks daily. One would think that being martyred for being a Christian would discourage others. Quite the opposite is occurring, much to the frustration of our enemies. Truly, God's ways are not our ways.

Lately, I have sensed some strong but new emotions welling up within me, that I must do more. I am not alone as other believers with whom I have come into contact recently are echoing my exact feelings. This story is my beginning of doing more; but I know it is only the beginning. I and the reader need to understand that God is still in control, and all those called to be martyrs will stand one day in his glorious presence.

Escape and a New Beginning

The first thing John and I did after entering the building using an entry code John was able to secure from one of his sources was find the server room. We then selected a wall next to an adjoining office and cut a rough opening in the wall. We then strewed the wall debris into the office to give it the impression that the hole was created by a blast to be set off covering our escape. Later, using our escape portal, we placed some of the pieces back into the hole to make sure several large pieces showed evidence of blast residue. We got this hint from one of our many fugitive contacts. One wonderful thing that came from our travels is that we met every kind of survivalists and ex-military types known to man. Some were great at making bombs; ours was custom made for our escapade, knowing we were neophytes. When safely away, John punched a number in his burner and, voila, it worked like a charm. We had never used anything like this before, but since then, I have used other's expertise in these matters on a couple of occasions. This was the first time John had done willful damage to anyone else's private property as we were not into physical espionage; just running afoul of the powers that be.

We knew with some certainty; we were going to be captured on some security cameras. But as is customary on our clandestine operations, we wore two layers of clothing, hats, glasses, wigs, and some easy makeup pieces. I also stuffed my clothing with lots of extra padding to make this skinny guy look fat. I even stuffed cotton around my gums to give me the Godfather look. We had become very proficient in changing our appearances: at times we were forced to make more than one change within a few hours. This foray was different from all our earlier escapades as we were not to meet up at a set rendezvous point but to completely part ways. As we left the building, we did not shake hands but parted without looking back. We had learned to never look back from where we had come but to look in every other direction to hopefully cause enough confusion as to aid those with whom we had previously met. Also, we had agreed not to tell one another what plans we had made for ourselves. Whether that worked or not, we had no clue, but it was our style. Also, never go back the same way you came…be spontaneous.

Often, we had been seen as a pair, and some of our friends began calling us the dynamic duo, but in truth, it has only been by the grace of God alone that we had come this far. The frequency of being spotted either before or after our endeavors was becoming a daily affair, and we knew we had to make a change in our tactics if we were to continue.

John was going to return to his first plan of speaking at only prearranged meetings…sans children. He was done with writing his journal, and he wanted to concentrate on the message, encouraging others on death row (our apt description of our lives now) and taking every opportunity possible to spread the Gospel. It was now a world where one being known as a believer was costly, and one of welcome to death row should one believe. A verse I heard him quote hundreds of times was Luke 17:33: He who shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it. He knew the scriptures much better than I, but in the brief time we served together, he was my teacher 24-7. I have become equipped by God's grace alone to do the work of the Gospel.

My plan was to continue doing what I do best: hacking, messaging, and to support in every way possible my fellow Christians, whether it be acquiring necessities, aid in smuggling those eluding the law, communications, or as I did with John, supply planning and support for those holding the meetings. I felt a great loss, alone and nervous, not for my safety but questioning myself. Could I really do this on my own?

The Beginning of My New Life

That first night, I set out to find a culvert near an abandoned warehouse I had spotted earlier on the way to the server building. It did not look like anyone had claimed it for their residence. Being that it was so near the government's offices; the odds were high there would be a vacancy. I was wrong, but again it was the hand of God watching over me.

When I approached the culvert, I was accosted by a younger man with his small daughter clinging to his leg. He held a hammer, but my startled reaction seemed to alleviate his aggressive stance a little. I told him that I was just looking for a place to spend the night, and then I would be gone early tomorrow. He asked me if I was on the lam, and I laughed as I told him I was always on the lam. Everyone relaxed, and he extended his hand; we shook but did not exchange names, a habit I had to learn the hard way. The little girl liked the idea as if it were a game. Just like magic, my nervousness disappeared in an instant.

As we sat inside the hideout and exchanged some pleasantries, I then boldly stated that I was a believer in Christ. The little girl beamed a huge smile and eagerly let me know they were Christians also. The man was at a loss at what they were going to do because he was a new believer whose wife turned him in to the authorities.

He and his wife had been at odds for some time as she had eagerly received the mark. He personally wanted nothing to do with such nonsense. Recently, he had been approached by some bold Christians whose message struck home. He told his wife that he was now a believer in Jesus, and she was upset. She grabbed her phone and reported him to the police. Police? Ha! More like hit squads and stooges of the Lion Brigade. Though he had been warned this would most likely happen; it still caught him off guard. He knew at once that he had to leave…now. As he was quickly packing a few items to take with him, his daughter asked him what he was doing. He told her that he had to leave and that he loved her with tears in his eyes. She cried out that she wanted to go with him. Taken aback, he asked her, Why not stay with Mommy? Her reply stunned him. She told him that ever since she got herself marked, she stopped being her mommy. She was not kind anymore and ignored her most of the time. Then it hit him: his daughter had been very clingy to him for the past few weeks, even before he became a believer. He grabbed her pajamas, a coat, scooped her up, jumped in the car, and fled.

After they had driven for a little while, he began to realize that the authorities would be looking for his car. They abandoned the car, took what little they had with them, and on foot went looking for a quick place to hide. They then came across this culvert and prayed that this would keep them safe until tomorrow. What was going to happen next was a mystery as to how and where they could go.

Mystery solved: John and I had divided the known, hopefully safe, contacts in the area between us so that we would not cross paths too close to the scene of the crime. All I needed to do was find an exposed telephone or internet wire in the morning; we should be able to get some mode of transportation and food. Shelter was another story, for it was more than likely we would find something similar to our current accommodations. We would abandon whatever vehicle used on any given day and do it all over the next day. This was a frequent practice those days if you were not in a hurry to die.

That night, as we talked into the wee hours of the morning, he truly was a sponge, as he asked question after question, soaking up everything I said. I will admit, I was still careful not to give out too much information as to how we operated under these conditions; experience had proven that the enemy can appear as one of us, including good makeup to cover the mark. One thing I did have was a confidence that his profession of faith was much more than head knowledge. John was great at spotting a wannabe or a wolf in sheep's clothing. Now that I was on my own, it was solely on my shoulders to discern the differences.

Here it was, John and I had parted ways less than twelve hours ago, and I was already doing that which I believed was my plan: hacking, messaging, smuggling, and meeting the needs of others in peril. Truly, the game was afoot.

A New Day Dawns

Our ride was exactly where I was told it would be: near several other cars looking as if they all had lost a demolition derby or two. The looks were perfect, and it ran great. Most of the time, there will be some useful gear and food stored somewhere in the cars we use. I had mentioned to my contact that there were two adult men and a youngster. The less said, the better. I needed some way to hide the girl because she might be a dead giveaway if seen with us while driving out of the city. We found a map with the best escape route in the torn headliner. Also, I came across some general instructions wadded up under the dash. The well-worn back seat was propped up with some bedding under it for her to lie on. If we should be stopped, remove the prop and lower the seat to cover her. In one of the door panels was a half-bottle of cheap whiskey and a spray bottle. When he asked why the whiskey and a spray bottle, I told him when we stop that night, we will draw less attention from the authorities if we look and smell like a couple of winos looking for a place to crash. We also needed to make ourselves appear as if we had been living on the street for a while; she seemed to enjoy rubbing dirt on her face and arms. In the trunk, we discovered some food and a little water in a pile of rags. The trunk was also filled with trash: we would dig into that when we stopped for the night. We quickly jumped in and began the first leg of our journey.

That evening, we found ourselves in a rural area populated by abandoned homes and assorted outbuildings. We pulled the car off the road and drove behind an old partially collapsed barn. We then took our time to comb through the trash in the trunk where they had carefully hidden some useful treasures: several old shoes, some filthy T-shirts, some breakfast bars, more water, and some kid-sized clothes that had lost a battle with a giant moth. I assured them that when we reached our first real destination we would get better clothing, food, and a much-needed bath. We destroyed the map and everything that might link us to this car: a standard procedure when we exchanged vehicles. The local contacts would know where to look. The next morning, there would be another car for us in that exact location. On a few occasions in the past, that did not occur, which meant John and I would have to fend for ourselves until we could again make contact. I remembered some exceptionally long hikes. I warned them that this was always a possibility. We then walked about a quarter mile and made an old shed our abode for the evening.

We arose early to utilize the lack of full daylight and carefully hiked back to the drop-off point. Our first ride had morphed into a nice-looking older car. When we checked the car, we noticed it locked and empty. The man began to panic, but I reassured him this was not unusual. We began to scout the area when the girl found some graffiti on the far side of the barn. She called out that someone had written victory in Jesus in red on the barn. When I investigated, it brought a smile to my face: the letter V was an arrow pointing downward to a pile of rubble alongside the barn. We tore the rubble apart and found an old duffle bag stuffed with treasures that warmed our hearts. We then had the keys to the car, a map, some nice, clean clothes, better shoes, food, water, and some hand wipes. It was not a bath or shower, but it was still great to feel clean.

It then hit me: the clothes and shoes for the little girl fit perfectly. I had never mentioned the age or gender to anyone; just that there were three of us and one was a youth. I went on high alert, wondering if I had been hoodwinked by the man, we had been followed, spotted when abandoning the car or who knows what. At that moment, I missed John's wisdom. I considered it strange that her dad made no comment concerning the clothes, though, in fact, he was never privy to my conversation with my contact. I said a quick prayer and smiled casually, though my mind was racing a mile a minute.

We took what we needed, put the bag back, and covered it with the rubble. We were on the road as dawn was fully breaking. We went ahead with the knowledge that rural areas were less likely at that time to be as intensely watched as were the larger areas of population. I did warn them to never let their guard down and to be wary of all you meet in the days ahead. Some may appear to be friendly but will betray you if push comes to shove when they are threatened. At that time, I felt threatened and was encouraging myself to not let my guard down.

As a note: it currently has become nearly impossible to exist as a believer in any city of any size. The message of Christ when he made the statement that where two or three gathered in his name