Shepherd's Salvation: Rise of Humanity

By Thomas Albrecht

Living on his family's farm in Nebraska, John Shepherd and his wife Jackie know humanity's days are numbered. Despite battling with depression and the tragic end of his military career, John's fighter-pilot spirit is strong, and he can't afford to stand by and watch an unbelieving world as they face a global disaster that is less than three years away. With dreams haunted by images of war, and now by a divine calling, he knows that his Maker is counting on him to build a colossal craft capable of carrying its passengers through space on an uncertain trek in search of a new home. Failure at any stage will lead to cataclysmic death, but John can't give in to fear, with the horrors of Earth's destruction hurtling toward mankind with inescapable vengeance. Travel with John as he sets out on an unpopular, righteous path to build a lifeboat for a select few-human, plant, and animal-to journey through space on an epic pilgrimage. Will he be able to convince a blind world that he can offer salvation from the apocalypse? Rise of Humanity is the first book in the Shepherd's Salvation saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Mar 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781977211804

Thomas Albrecht

Thomas Albrecht grew up on a small dairy farm in Pleasant Valley, New York. His extensive experience in mechanics would lead him to a career in the Air Force, where he worked in the nuclear field before becoming an aircraft mechanic, flying all over the world. After receiving his commission and supporting recovery efforts during 9-11, he worked at US Central Command Headquarters and then for the Joint Staff at the Pentagon, before moving on to Air Force Reserve Command Headquarters. Through his many interests, he earned his private pilot's license, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, two Masters Degrees and certification as a firefighter while volunteering at his local fire department. He now lives in Georgia with his wife and their two younger sons; their oldest son is currently attending USF.

Book preview

Chapter 1

T hunder One, this is Sandman. We need some lead on target now.

Sandman, this is Thunder One. I’m en route. I have eyes on your position and will be there in two minutes. Pop smoke to confirm your location.

Thunder One, we don’t have two minutes; we’re about to be overrun!

Sandman, pop smoke now and keep your heads down. I’m coming in hot from the South.

Thunder One, we’re popping red smoke now. Anyone outside our building is hostile!

Sandman, I have a visual; but hostiles are too close to engage. You guys are well inside the kill zone.

Thunder One, you are cleared hot, cleared hot, cleared hot! If you don’t engage, we’ll be dead anyway!

Thunder One copies, I’m in hot from the South. Take cover if you can.

John Shepherd, call sign Thunder One, rolled in over the target area with his A-10 aircraft. At 5 feet, 11 inches, he was your typical fighter jock—good looking, solid muscle, and totally confident in his abilities. Tensing up on the trigger of his control stick, John quickly identified targets through his heads-up display. From the top of a lone building, he could clearly see a plume of red smoke billowing from the smoke grenade used by the Special Operations Forces (SOF) on the ground. Dozens of hostile forces were running toward the building, and it was clear they were making a final charge when John arrived on scene.

John passed over a desolate plain, low through a mountain pass towards his target. The Afghan mountains were bare, with rocks littering the landscape and an occasional tree or bush visible, struggling to survive. John knew the mountains provided the enemy with perfect ambush sites and allowed them to escape through tunnels and passes, but he cleared his mind of this as he began to engage.

John flew into action with his A-10 aircraft—a fierce fighting machine. Built exclusively around a 30mm Gatling gun, the aircraft was originally designed to kill Russian tanks by firing 70 armor-piercing rounds per second. SOF had come to rely on the A-10 for close air support (CAS) because it was so quick and nimble, just like a dragonfly. With two engines and redundant hydraulic systems, the aircraft could take a hit and keep on fighting. When operated by an ace fighter pilot like John Shepherd, wings loaded with missiles and bombs, it would effectively be lights out for anyone in its path.

John squeezed the trigger on his control stick and the distinctive hum of the 30mm Gatling gun echoed through the valley as the bullets shot out of the barrels in search of a target. Bullets struck the ground in a straight path, indicated by the puffs of sand as they impacted the surface. Each one had a devastating effect as they passed through the enemy combatants. One by one, the enemy fighters crumpled into an immediate and final repose, dead where they last stood. As John released the trigger and pulled out of his attack run, he saw two puffs of dust fly off the side of the building with the smoke grenade on top.

Enemy combatants that weren’t hit during the initial strafing run knew what their fate would be if they stuck around and began running chaotically in all directions. John banked hard in a turn to chase after those scattering. Suddenly, his missile warning detector went off, and several flares automatically deployed to decoy an incoming projectile.

John desperately looked over each shoulder, snapping his head left, then right, to see what was headed towards him, but it was already too late. An enemy’s missile exploded near John’s left wing and tore several gaping holes into his aircraft. Numerous alarms and warning indicator lights went off in the cockpit informing John how badly damaged the aircraft was.

The SOF Forward Air Controller on the ground, call sign Sandman, called out to John over the radio and said, Thunder One, missile launch from east mountain peak! John quickly spotted two men running on the mountaintop—one still carrying the missile launcher in his right hand and attempting to reload. After quickly assessing the damage to his aircraft and determining he could continue the fight, John set his sights on two new targets.

With his hand on the control stick, he used his thumb to switch his weapon system from gun to rocket, and leveled off the aircraft. Calculating the speed at which the hostiles were running, the distance to the target, and the time it took for a rocket to travel, John squeezed the trigger at just the right moment. In an instant, a volley of 2.75-inch high-explosive rockets fired from his right wing pod, leaving a trail of flame and smoke as they snaked their way toward the ground. In less than five seconds, the rockets found their targets—each one exploding in a ball of flame and debris. Both hostiles were obliterated on the spot.

John immediately turned his attention back to those who were running away on the valley floor below. The quickest way out of the valley was through a narrow pass, and the enemy knew that was their only chance for survival. They headed for what they believed was safety and began to congregate into a larger and easier group to pick off. John circled around once more to allow for the perfect moment when he could strike. After leveling off for the final run, John switched his weapons back to the Gatling gun. As he locked in on his targets and began to squeeze the trigger, thoughts of his childhood flashed into his mind.

John pictured his father. He was offering him advice as he had done countless times during John’s life. It was as if his father was sitting in the A-10’s cockpit with him, the voice and imagery was so clear. Johnny, if you can’t talk your way out of a fight, be sure to block the punch. If you can’t block the punch, then maim your attacker to prevent him from punching. If your attacker persists and your life is at risk, then, and only then should you kill him.

John processed the information, assessing it in a split second as if it was a piece of key engagement intel. He looked again at the enemy, scurrying about on the valley floor below him like so many ants. They no longer posed a threat. John was about to break off the engagement when he heard a call over the radio.

Thunder One, this is Sandman. We need a medevac for one, ASAP. Please relay.

Sandman, Thunder One copies. Provide nature of injury and cause. There was a pause in communication, so John repeated his last transmission. I repeat, Sandman, this is Thunder One. Provide nature of injury and cause.

Thunder One, abdominal wound . . . Blue-on-Blue, over.

Blue-on-Blue . . . those three words meant John had hit one of the good guys. His heart sank, but the moment and circumstances didn’t allow for the luxury of grieving or regret. He was yanked from his momentary distress by the unmistakable and alarming sound of thumping coming from his aircraft. The plane began to shudder. John’s number one engine suddenly flamed out as he flew out of the valley over the heads of the enemy. He now realized the damage to his aircraft had depleted his fuel supply. John knew he only had a matter of seconds before the number two engine would flame out as well, and he wanted to get as far away from the enemy as possible.

Then, something on the jagged mountain peak to his right caught his eye. He watched helplessly as an enemy fighter knelt down on one knee and brought a missile launcher up to his right shoulder and pointed it in his direction. John quickly glanced down at his control panel to see how many flares he had left, but the display was blank. There was nothing he could do. John looked back in the direction of the enemy fighter just as he squeezed the trigger.

A flash of red and a puff of smoke; the missile was on its way. John pushed his number two engine throttle up as far as it could go only to find that he was now completely out of fuel. His only remaining means of escape just flamed out. There was no way now that he could avoid the inevitable. In another few seconds, it would all be over.

John glanced at the picture of his wife and kids he had taped to the dashboard of his aircraft as he reached down to pull the handle for his ejection seat, knowing he was already too late. It was just a fraction of a second, but time seemed to slow down as the missile found its target in the back of his number two engine. The aircraft immediately began to disintegrate around him as his life flashed before his eyes. John instinctively offered up a silent goodbye his wife would never hear.

as

Chapter 2

J ohnny, wake up.

Wha . . . what’s up, Dad? What time is it?

It’s 4:30 in the morning, and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Son.

Thanks, Dad. Now can I go back to sleep?

Johnny, we talked about this. On your fifth birthday, you’d start working on the farm. Besides, your first day of work should be exciting. I think your favorite cow, Jenny, is going to give birth today. We’re about ready to have a new calf.

OK, Dad. I’m gettin’ up.

That morning . . . actually, well before morning dawned, John jumped in the front seat of his dad’s pickup truck with his two older brothers, Cody and Kyle, and made the short quarter-mile drive to the farm. They drove past the hundred-acre field, lush with dark-green grass, barely visible from what little light the old pickup’s lights were able to cast over the rich farmland. The farm was small by Midwestern standards, with a big barn and a smaller barn, three silos, a milk house, a few sheds, a garage, a modest store, and a picturesque farmhouse. Johnny had no concept of the farm’s size. He was aware that they were dairy farmers, while most of his friends’ families grew corn or wheat. He also knew that, with his older brothers, all the animals, and a never-ending list of chores and places to explore, it was a place where adventure could always be found.

The farmhouse resembled a miniature version of the White House, with two grand pillars adorning the front porch. It had been built way back in 1897 and was registered with the town as a historical landmark. It had been in the Shepherd family for more than half a century, and when John’s grandfather passed away after a bout with the flu last year, John’s grandmother had made the decision to restore it to its original luster.

Grandma, as she was called, lived in the farmhouse by herself and did a good job of keeping it in order despite her age. Since Grandma was so used to getting up early with Grandpa when he was alive, she continued to wake up before the crack of dawn. John’s father created a tradition of having his sons go in each morning and give her a kiss before starting their day. John was no exception, and, after kissing his grandmother and giving her a big hug, he headed off to work with his father and brothers, filled with anticipation.

John started out his day with small chores such as feeding the calves and cows and making sure they had clean bedding. He was quite earnest in his efforts. He didn’t want to disappoint his father on his first day as a real helper. As John was cleaning behind Jenny, he noticed two small hooves sticking out of her rear end. John called his father over and asked him what it was.

Johnny, you’re about to witness the miracle of life, his father said.

John’s father yelled for his brothers and told them to bring some baling twine. When they arrived, John’s father grabbed the twine and tied slipknots around the hooves sticking out. He then told John’s brothers, When I say pull, you pull—slow and steady!

Jenny was lying there on the ground, breathing heavily and moaning each time the hooves slid out a little farther. She would occasionally pick her head up and look back, but for the most part she just laid her head on the ground with her neck stretched out. As Jenny took one last deep breath in, John’s father yelled, Pull!

Jenny gave birth to a black-and-white female calf that morning, and since it was John’s first official day as a farmer, his father said he could name her. John picked the name Sunshine because the sun had just come up when Jenny gave birth. After his brothers dragged Sunshine in front of Jenny so the new mother could lick her off, John was left with cleaning up the afterbirth, which he wasn’t too happy about. He tried not to let his father or brothers see his displeasure. Working alongside his older brothers was an activity he had been looking forward to for the past few months.

John went about his assigned chores for the rest of the morning, occasionally checking on Jenny and Sunshine. After throwing fresh sawdust and straw under each cow in the big barn, he took a pail of milk and dumped it in a trough for the calves to drink in the little barn. Before long, he noticed that Sunshine was already standing in front of Jenny, albeit on shaky legs.

John asked his father how it was possible for Sunshine to stand up so quickly, when he knew human babies crawled for months before they could stand. His father explained that animals are wired for survival and that they adapt quickly or they die. In the wild, if the calf didn’t stand quickly, to keep up with the herd, the wolf would come along and eat it. John was satisfied with his father’s explanation, shrugged his shoulders in understanding, and went on to complete his chores.

After two hours of work, John ran home with his two older brothers to get ready for school. They all fought for the one bathroom in the house and rushed to get ready. For one of the few times he could remember, Cody and Kyle let him go first since it was his special day. The only time the trio slowed down was when they sat to eat the bowls of cereal their mother had prepared for them.

John was excited to tell his mother about Sunshine and where babies come from as she stood next to the sink with his baby sister, Kalie, resting on her hip. She simply smiled and told him to finish his breakfast. When he finished, he and his brothers all kissed their mother and baby sister, dropped their bowls in the sink, and ran to brush their teeth. Within a few minutes, they were out the door, waiting for the bus at the end of the driveway.

After the middle school bus picked up his two older brothers, John stood there with two neighborhood friends and their parents, waiting for the elementary school bus to arrive. He began to tell his friends about his experience at the farm earlier that morning, and when he came to the part about where baby calves come from, their mothers, who were also farmers’ wives, just nodded and quickly changed the subject.

The bus ride to school took John through the center of town, past the small Methodist Church where he and his family spent virtually every Sunday morning. Sidney, Nebraska, was a typical small Midwestern town, with a mix of wood and red brick buildings that lined the main street. The town was situated right on Nebraska’s southwestern border, within a handful of miles from the Colorado state line, and less than fifty miles from Wyoming. It was due east of Cheyenne, Wyoming’s capitol and largest city, and less than a hundred miles from Denver.

On a clear day, John could look west and see the mountains looming in the distance in stark contrast to the flatness of the prairie farmland. Sidney was situated on Interstate 80 with two state capitols and thriving metropolises a short drive away. However, there was nothing modern or the least bit cosmopolitan about Sidney. It had everything from an old barber shop with the spinning striped pole outside, to a feed store, and a ragged-looking tavern, which had a menu that hadn’t changed for as long as anyone could remember. That fact didn’t matter. Nobody went there for the food.

The café on the square still did a brisk business for both breakfast and lunch, but nothing particularly exciting ever happened in Sidney. It had once been a major railroad junction, but despite the fact that the tracks remained and trains regularly rolled by, those days were now far in the town’s past. John’s Grandma had told him stories of Sidney being an exciting place, but that’s all they were to young John—stories.

As John looked out the bus window, he saw a few local kids running through the park that was only a block away. The park was an oasis of beauty and tranquility in stark contrast to the ruggedness of the rest of the small farming community. Known as Whispering Falls, the park had a nature path that surrounded an oval lake, lined with trees. It looked like it belonged somewhere else, or had been plucked from some distant locale and placed in the middle of town. On the north side of the lake, there was a picturesque waterfall that made a whisper-like sound as it contacted the lake below. Lake might be a somewhat generous term, but the large pond was still a source of great civic pride. It was a spot where everyone would go to relax and lose themselves in nature. The irony of a bunch of farmers and farm kids needing to escape into nature was lost on virtually everyone.

When the bus pulled up to the small schoolhouse, John grabbed his lunchbox and eagerly jumped off, ready to learn what he could. Waiting to greet him was a teacher who specialized in learning disabilities. Early on, John was diagnosed with dyslexia, and he had to take an extra class in the morning to learn how to manage his handicap. John had inherited dyslexia from his grandfather who was born prematurely and had learning disabilities of his own. To compensate for the disorder, John eventually learned to process information slowly, so as to keep it organized in his head. However, when frustrated or angered, his symptoms would resurface and he’d find himself writing or speaking words in reverse order. He never let it bother him. It was just the way things were, and he viewed it as a challenge that needed to be conquered.

It was through learning to cope with his impairment that John acquired the skill of being extremely patient with others. He believed that when a person was given enough time, they would be able to accomplish whatever they set their mind to. However, many situations in life don’t always allow you enough time, and school was no exception.

John also recognized what it felt like to be bullied because of the teasing he had endured during his early reading struggles. This caused him to develop something of a protective instinct whenever he sensed someone was being picked on because of a perceived weakness. And, as the youngest of three brothers, John learned early on how to roughhouse and handle himself, which allowed him to stand up for others as well.

One day in third grade, one of his classmates, Steve, was being picked on by the class bully. John attempted to intervene, but in his excitement, his dyslexia caused him to jumble his words. While this took the bully’s attention away from Steve, it caused those attentions to now focus squarely on John. The situation immediately escalated, and in the ensuing confrontation, John got the bully in an arm bar his older brothers had taught him. He forced the bully to apologize to Steve. Instantly, John had both a new friend and a reputation as both someone who looked out for others and as a person who shouldn’t be messed with.

As John progressed through his school years in Sidney, he managed to maintain an A/B average, but he became particularly skilled at solving math problems. He also played many sports and excelled in most as a result of the strength and agility he picked up on the farm. Having two older brothers was also a great advantage for John. Since he was always younger, smaller, and slower, he had to work harder to avoid getting embarrassed or beat by his older siblings in any athletic setting. With battling to overcome his dyslexia, working hard on the farm, and competing against his older brothers, John embraced a willingness to outwork everyone around him as a given.

Like many kids, John occasionally caused mischief in class, but he stayed out of any major trouble with his teachers, and more importantly, with his parents. John’s parents were strict but loving and taught him their values in life. Not a month would go by without his father saying, Johnny, be courteous of others, respect your elders, and help people out when you can. John would use these values to succeed in life. Another value his parents taught him—never rush to judgment. There are reasons people do what they do. Try to understand why they acted the way they did and move on from there.

The time the family spent in church helped reinforce the lessons from his parents. There were several churches in Sidney, but on Sunday mornings almost everyone John knew was in town and inside either the Methodist church, like his family, or packed into the Catholic church a block away or the Presbyterian church around the corner. The entire Shepherd family jammed into his father’s pickup truck to make the short drive into town. In Sidney, church services were mostly about God and faith, but they were also the weekly social highlight for many of the attendees.

The Methodist church had a sharply pitched roof with a steeple, but only the Catholic church had a bell. John’s Catholic school friends thought that was a bigger deal than he ever did. The Shepherd family typically sat in the back on the right side. Even though there wasn’t assigned seating, it was their spot. John’s mom sang in the choir, and John, who wasn’t gifted with a talent for singing, somehow managed to survive two years in the church’s youth choir. He always loved the music and the way the sound rose toward the high ceiling, almost as if it was trying to reach the heavens. After services, the kids generally headed to Whispering Falls to play, with admonishments from their parents to not ruin their good clothes, while the adults would catch up on gossip, farming, and world events while eating the variety of casseroles brought by each family.

John’s father had also reinforced the work ethic John was already developing through his efforts in sports and in combating his dyslexia. Whenever John would struggle with some assigned chore on the farm and show frustration, his Dad was quick to tell him that in order to make it in life, he had to put some effort into whatever task was in front of him. The more you put in, the more you get out. Additionally, John learned that he wouldn’t always have the tools or equipment he needed. His Dad taught him to improvise and move forward. On countless occasions when faced with a task that offered a challenge, his Dad’s voice would sound in his mind. Johnny, when you don’t have the right tools or parts to fix something, then cob it. If you can’t cob it, then it wasn’t meant to be. John had no idea how important those early lessons from his father would someday become.

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Chapter 3

By his mid-teens, John was ready to take on the world. His mother caught him on more than one occasion standing in the fields watching planes fly overhead. Those observations led her to buy a flying lesson at the small local airstrip for him as a sixteenth birthday present. A pilot ran the strip, which was mainly used to support his crop-dusting business, but he had an instructor’s certificate and offered flying lessons as a way to supplement his income. This present would change the direction of John’s life forever.

Sitting on the runway with the instructor for the first time, John’s heart raced with excitement. The instructor, a small, grizzled man named Chuck, could see how much the opportunity meant to him. Sensing that he might have a potential prospect for a lot more lessons, Chuck made sure he was both patient and feeding John’s enthusiasm. After spending several minutes showing John how to inspect the aircraft and run through a brief preflight checklist, they were finally strapped in, with the propeller of the little Cessna-172 spinning and the engine roaring in anticipation of the small craft’s upcoming role in defying gravity.

Finally, Chuck said the words that were music to his young passenger’s ears, It’s all yours now, John. Just push the throttle all the way in, and, when your airspeed reaches the green mark on the indicator, gently pull back on the yoke, and she’ll lift right off. Chuck had a duplicate set of controls in front of him that would allow him to take over if needed, but for the most part, he’d let the students control the plane.

John carefully did as he was told and pushed the throttle in. The engine roared as the propellers violently grabbed the air in front of them. The aircraft quickly picked up speed as it raced down the runway. John scanned back and forth nervously between the speed indicator and the runway ahead. When he saw that his speed was in the green on the indicator, he pulled back on the yoke just as Chuck had instructed.

In a magical instant that John would never forget, the aircraft lifted off the ground and John was now piloting his first aircraft. He turned the yoke, which banked the plane and steered it in a westerly direction as he climbed to 3,000 feet. The mountains, which he typically could just see the tops of from his vantage point on the farm, took on a new and majestic dimension. It was like he was being offered an entirely new perspective on the world. He knew immediately that this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

It was about that same time that John got up the courage to ask a girl to the school dance. Her name was Jackie; she was pretty, popular, and outgoing. Although he was only a sophomore, John was already the school’s finest athlete, quarterbacking the football team in the fall and pitching and playing shortstop for the baseball team in the spring. He was already sporting the athletic build he would continue to display in later years, and every girl in school had their eyes