God's Lions: The Secret Chapel (30 page)

The very presence of a book inspired by Satan didn’t surprise him. It was the classical yin and yang, the good versus evil that had existed since men came into the world. But why exactly did it exist? The philosophical questions raised by its existence would be endless. Was it some kind of Nihilistic thesis? When was it written, and what did it say? And most chilling of all, was Satan really the inspiration for its existence?

Leo stopped next to a row of merlot grapes and turned toward Lev. “Did you recognize the writing in the book?”

“Daniel seems to think it’s a form of cuneiform writing. It resembles some Mesopotamian script found on ancient tablets near Babylon.”

“Has he been able to decipher any of it?”

“Not yet. There’s nothing to compare it with. There’s no telling how old it is or when it was written.”

“What’s your gut feeling then?”

“I’ve been thinking about that all morning. I mean, there’s no telling what’s inside that damned thing. Maybe it’s an antithesis of our own Bible, with its own version of the history of creation and an entirely different set of commandments. I can tell you one thing, though ... that book was written with a definite purpose in mind, and I doubt it’s a love letter for humanity.”

Leo held a rosary in his hand as the two men turned down a path leading between two rows of grapevines. “You know, Lev, many people throughout history have also used God’s book as an excuse to do some pretty evil things, but you’re right; those are the kinds of questions we need to explore if we want to find out why we were sent to find a book inspired by Satan at this point in history. I keep thinking of Morelli’s analogy of the Bible being infused with a series of time locks, so I’m guessing the answers will come when God wants us to have them.”

Leo continued to wonder if the Devil’s Bible identified its followers with stories of their own ancestors. In other words, did Satan have his own version of an iniquitous opposite to Abraham? Did he send a figure into the world to spawn a legacy of evil among man? Could this explain the age-old question of why there were both good and evil people in the world? The Cain and Able dichotomy.

Leo watched the young sentries who voluntarily patrolled the fields without complaint. They were the continuation of a long legacy of good versus evil as they struggled to defend their families and friends against terrorist attacks.

As the two men walked along manicured paths, Lev pointed out the individual family houses scattered over the park-like setting of the compound’s two hundred acres. After Lev converted to Christianity, he and his wife had started this community together in an effort to provide a kibbutz-like atmosphere for Christians in Israel. His late wife had been passionate about the land and was instrumental in the farm’s design. Her handprints were on everything, from the decision on where the vineyards and vegetable gardens would be planted, to planning and supervising the construction of the villa and all the houses on the farm.

As Leo took in the beauty of the grounds, he thought of the courage it took for Lev and his wife to create such a place. “What do your Jewish friends and neighbors think of a Christian kibbutz in their midst?”

“They don’t have a problem with it. We’re all still Israeli citizens and are bound together in our fight to protect Israel and our homes at any cost. I respect and support my Jewish brothers and sisters, and they do the same for me. My family was a little concerned when I converted, but since they weren’t strict Orthodox Jews, it wasn’t such a big deal. Again, we believe the issue of religious moderation is central to tolerance of other religions and everyone getting along.”

Lev pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it with a match. “Every year, as a group, we attend several celebrations around the country at various Jewish communities, and we’ve always been welcomed. There are several Jewish families living right here on the compound; they have their own synagogue next to our chapel. That’s why you see both a Christian cross and the Star of David over the gate in front of the villa. I would like to think that someday we will see a mosque here, but from a security standpoint, that’s impossible right now. I have a lot of Muslim friends, and they agree that the radical elements within Islam are tearing down their own houses with mindless violence. It seems we all still have a lot of work to do.”

As the two men turned to walk back to the villa, enjoying the sunshine and taking in the fresh sea air, Leo found that the mysterious book they had discovered in the desert continued to dominate his thoughts. He wondered if the book had been in the world all this time, waiting to herald the arrival of the evil one so that his followers could dispense his message of hate and destruction throughout the world. If that were true, it could very well be the key to Armageddon and the Antichrist’s rise to power someday. Until the book was translated, Leo knew the answer to these questions could only be imagined, like distant objects seen through the fog.

Lev stopped along the path and snapped a small bunch of grapes off a gnarled vine. “You know, Leo, it wasn’t until I converted to Christianity that I learned that Jews and Christians think of the devil in different ways.”

Leo smiled the knowing smile of a Jesuit theologian who had pondered this subject for hours on end. “I know, it’s strange, when I was still in seminary, we learned that the Jewish view of Satan differed quite a bit from the Christian version. In Judaism, the word Satan means challenger or accuser. He is believed to have the evil purpose of searching out men’s iniquity, an accuser who appears to wander the earth functioning like some kind of celestial prosecutor. In the Book of Wisdom, the devil is represented as the being who brought death into the world.”

“That’s a very good way of putting it, Father. In my Christian education, I was taught that the devil was the malevolent force behind the engine that drove the evil covering the globe. Once among the highest of God’s angels and known as the
brightest in the sky
, he rebelled against God and was cast down from heaven, where he waged war against those who obeyed God’s commandments and who believed in the testimony of Jesus. Lucifer is now the ruler of the demons, entrenched among us with frightening anger where he sows hate and sorrow in men’s hearts. I think these differing views between the two religions have caused Christians to be much more fearful of the evil one’s presence.”

Both men looked at each other with the realization that what they had seen in the desert the night before had proven beyond any doubt that their fear was justified.

The warm night water of the Gulf of Mexico flowed past the beaches of Texas. The nutrient-rich brew of plankton in the water supported the famous gulf shrimp that swam in its current and grew to enormous size. From time to time, the Mexican shrimp fleet plied these same seas along with the local boats from Texas and Louisiana. The radios in the wheelhouses crackled with a mixture of English, Cajun, and Spanish, giving rise to competition among the multicultural fleet that passed back and forth over the continental shelf, dragging their nets along the smooth white bottom in the search for seafood gold.

In the early morning hours, one of the aged and brightly painted Mexican boats passed close to the coast, drawing little attention as it blended in with the lights of the fleet. There was, however, a noticeable difference between this crew and the others. For some reason, they seemed more interested in the comings and goings at the entrance to the Houston ship channel inside Galveston Bay than they did in catching shrimp.

Time and fuel meant less profit in this struggling industry, but instead of passing over the shallow Gulf bottom, scooping up shrimp, the boat’s long black nets remained dry and coiled up on the deck. Maybe the crew was wary of past run-ins with Texas shrimpers, or maybe they were just looking for a place where they could dock and buy supplies. Whatever the reason, it was apparent they had made a decision as they turned north and headed straight up the ship channel.

Although it was almost one o’clock in the morning, the nautical traffic in this port was still busy as the small boat continued unchallenged past the entrance. It glided by grain silos full of wheat and rice and gigantic oil refineries that hissed and growled with towers of flame and escaping misty vapors that were revealed by thousands of lights that turned night into day.

Highlighted by a single halogen lamp on the deck of the shrimp boat, the tall, bearded captain appeared Hispanic, as did the crew. They were foreigners in a strange land, and as they glided along in the dark humid air over the murky water, they gathered together and looked out upon the huge glowing city. Then they did something strange. They placed small woven mats on the rear deck before dropping to their knees and bowing down to the east, toward the holy city of Mecca.

The boat motored beneath the stern of a gigantic oil tanker docked next to a vast refinery, drawing the attention of an alert crewmember leaning over the ship’s railing. Because he was a Muslim, the crewmember aboard the large ship immediately noticed the scene on the deck of the shrimp boat below.
This was not right
. The Mexican flag fluttering over the small boat reminded him of a visit he had once made to the largely Roman Catholic country, but these men were obviously Muslims, like he was, and this was the wrong time of day to be saying their prayers.

His mind began to race and a sickening fear rose in his throat. Radical Islamic terrorists had caused great harm to his religion over the past few years, and he was afraid they were about to make it much worse. He watched as the colorful shrimp boat pushed through the oily water beneath the tanker. The frightened crewman thought for a moment and weighed his options. He had to tell the captain. They must notify the American Coast Guard!

He started to run franticly along the deck toward the bridge, tripping as he strained to keep the Mexican boat in sight. Racing up a flight of metal stairs, he paused and grabbed the railing to glance over the side. He watched as the tall, bearded man on the boat below looked up at him, his face highlighted by the surrounding industrial lights reflecting off the water. The man smiled and raised his hand as if he was waving goodbye before disappearing through the door of the wheelhouse.

The crewmember could now clearly hear the words of the men praying on the deck of the innocent-looking boat. They were speaking in Arabic, and the prayers were the prayers of martyrs asking for Allah’s blessing. He looked on in horror as they passed the bow of his ship and continued up the channel toward Houston. It was the last sight his eyes would ever see.

Inside the shrimp boat, the bearded man attached some wires to a square box-like device the size of a home dishwasher. He looked at a picture of his family and closed his eyes, uttering a final prayer before flicking a switch.

A blinding flash of white light that was seen from hundreds of miles away erupted from the small boat as it vaporized. The giant ship beside it, the refinery, and a large portion of the city close-by were also instantly gone, while at the same time, the signature mushroom-shaped cloud of a one megaton nuclear detonation rose in the confused sky above the bayous and houses and freeways of America’s fourth largest city. The explosion was eighty times more powerful than the bomb that exploded over Hiroshima in 1945. Everything within two miles was leveled except for some of the strongest buildings made from reinforced concrete. Ninety-eight percent of the population within this area was instantly killed.

The blast left a crater two hundred feet deep and one thousand feet in diameter that quickly filled with water from Galveston Bay after the initial shockwave. Nothing recognizable remained within a mile of ground zero. Three miles away from the center of the explosion, virtually everything was destroyed. Single-family residences within that area had been completely blown away; only their foundations remained. Within this area, fifty percent of the population lay dead, with another forty percent actively dying or injured and moaning in agony.

Farther out, about five miles from where the shrimp boat carrying the bomb had been converted into molecules, most buildings were heavily damaged. The windows of tall buildings had been blown out, and first responders would find the contents of the upper floors of these buildings scattered on the streets below, along with the people who had been inside.

Those out in the open within this five mile radius had experienced third-degree burns from the initial fireball, while those inside close to windows had been shredded by the flying glass and bullet-like pieces of debris. It was a scene of unimaginable horror, but this was only the beginning. Within thirty miles of the blast, a lethal dose of radiation had been delivered through the air. Death would occur within hours to most of those within this area.

The wind on this night was blowing north at seventeen miles per hour. The massive amount of dirt and debris that had lifted up into the grayish purple-tinged mushroom cloud now began to follow the wind for hundreds of miles before gradually falling back to earth. This material was also lethally radioactive, and death would soon visit entire families up to ninety miles away within two to fourteen days.

Farther away, about one hundred sixty miles from where the bomb had exploded, people would experience extensive internal damage to their digestive tracts and white blood cells, with the resulting loss of hair and unexplained cancers that would ravage them and their children in the years to come.

It would be ten years before the levels of radioactivity in these areas would again be considered safe, but for now, a large part of the country had been rendered an unlivable graveyard. America’s worst nightmare had just occurred.

Snorkeling over the reef in the clear water of the Mediterranean coastline, John and Ariella were spearing fish for lunch. They had been in the water for almost an hour when Ariella swam up next to John and pointed to her divers watch. Reluctantly, they headed for the shore until their feet touched sand and they struggled through the surf up onto the beach. Ariella smiled as she held up a string of good-sized snapper. Camp ran up to John and sniffed at his single, small mackerel, before running off to chase an errant crab scurrying across a sugar-white sand dune.