CHAPTER 13
Meanwhile, back at the valley, the vehicles took off. The last plane had disappeared, in the direction of Jordan. Monica rode in Tess’ red convertible in the rear of the crowd, silently praying. Moments later, the dreaded sound of army tanks reached her ears.
“They’re coming!” she told Tess.
“Greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world, baby,” Tess replied. Behind her, Andrew nodded knowingly. Gloria smiled.
Behind them, hundreds of angels marched in tandem, waiting for action. Many of them, Monica noticed, were her former colleagues—Search-and-Rescue angels. Others were warrior angels under Michael’s leadership. Still more consisted of caseworkers like her. She knew that God had assigned still other angels to guard the fleeing planes, ready to protect them from any air attacks. Monica gazed at the cloudless sky, beaming a smile of gratitude, then brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes.
Suddenly, one by one, the vehicles sputtered to a stop; frightened, bewildered people clambered out, gaping at the approaching tanks. “Puccini’s sent them!” a woman screamed. “Why did our cars have to go out now?”
“They’re going to kill us all!” a man shouted. The rest of the fleeing refugees scrambled out of the vehicles, shrieking.
Jacob climbed out of his own jeep, staring at the army, his heart pounding. Sweat formed on his palms. Seeing the angels, he rushed toward them. “I thought you said Jehovah would protect us!” he shouted.
Tess raised a hand to calm him down, then stepped out of the convertible. “And so He shall, Jacob Barak. Don’t start doubting Him now. Just watch and see what the Lord is going to do.”
“Is Michael here?” Jacob asked her.
“Yes, he is, and he will do his job, so don’t worry. Michael’s assignment is to protect your people, and with the help of his angelic army, he will do so.” Tess patted his shoulder. Jacob wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with his soft cotton handkerchief, then stuffed it back into his pocket.
Monica stepped out of the convertible, her pearl earrings swaying in the breeze. Blades of grass flattened beneath her shoes as she approached him. “Remember the armies of Pharaoh, Jacob?” she gently reminded him.
Chagrined, Barak nodded. We’re all acting just as the ancient Israelites did, he thought, ruefully.
Monica touched his arm. “It will be no different here. Just as God intervened supernaturally to save the Israelites from Pharaoh’s army, when He parted the Red Sea, so will He do for you. Just watch and wait.”
With a nod, Barak turned to face the still-terrified multitude. Supernatural peace had flooded his heart, driving out the panic that had at first possessed him. He raised his hand for silence; the panicky cries subsided. “We have the promise of God that He will stop them from killing us all,” he shouted. “Do not panic; do not be afraid. God will not let Puccini’s army murder us.”
He turned back to Tess. “Where is Michael?”
“Michael will appear when the time is right.” Tess squeezed his arm.
The tanks slowly came into view; at the same time, several nuclear missiles whizzed overhead, then turned south. Clearly, they were meant for the fleeing planes. The breeze died down. Fixing her eyes on those missiles, Monica clasped her hands into a tight ball and pressed them against her chest; next to her, Tess put her hands on her hips and glared up at them.
A moment later, the missiles landed on a distant hill beyond the valley, without exploding; Tess gave Monica an approving nod. Thank You, Father, the Irish-tongued caseworker silently prayed. The soft breeze returned, once more caressing her cheeks.
Michael appeared in front of her, still wearing his snow-white robe. Heavenly light poured off his body. He patted her shoulder. “Good job, Monica,” he told her.
He strode through the throng of angels toward the rear, in the direction of the tanks. Monica and Tess hurried after him to watch; Andrew stayed behind with Gloria.
The warrior archangel watched the approaching tanks, a grim expression in his eyes, arms folded across his chest. Behind the angels, the crowd of people stood hushed and motionless. The hum of the tanks’ engines grew louder and louder.
At last, Michael raised his right hand above his head, his face raised toward the sky. A low rumble under the earth grew loud. A violent earthquake jolted the crust of the earth; a hundred feet in front of the assembled angels, the ground split from horizon to horizon. That crack grew wider and wider till it was large enough to swallow a house.
The tanks did not stop approaching. Instead, they fell into the huge crevice, one by one. The ground troops following the tanks tried to flee, only to be swallowed by a second fissure opening behind them. When the last member of the EU army had disappeared into the earth, the fissures closed again. The earthquake ceased; the rumbling subsided.
Michael slowly pivoted to face the crowd. Marching through the angelic throng, he stopped in front of Jacob Barak. “All right, everyone, continue your journey!” His booming voice carried throughout the valley. “The glory of the Lord is your rear guard, and He will get you safely to Petra. Your vehicles will function now, until you arrive there. You will stay in Petra until the Glorious Appearing of your Messiah, Jesus Christ, three-and-a-half years from now. We angels will accompany you there.”
Earsplitting shouts of joy and thanksgiving reached his ears as the people climbed back into their vehicles. The engines started immediately; within moments, the fleeing refugees were on their way again.
Jacob approached Michael. “I thank Jehovah for sending you here,” he said. “You certainly know how to protect us.”
Michael touched the prime minister’s arm, then gently wrapped his fingers around it. “God has protected you so far, and He will not stop doing so. Now get in your jeep and follow the others.” He tightened his grip on Jacob’s arm, his face stern. “And I believe you have some unfinished business with your cousin to take care of, when you get there.”
Jacob acquiesced. He knew what he had to do. “Yes, I do.”
Michael released his grip; returning to his jeep, Jacob climbed inside. Still at the wheel, Sam turned the ignition key; the jeep’s engine roared. “You will do what Michael told you to do?” the Special Forces angel asked him; sighing, Jacob nodded. The rest of the angels, now invisible, marched alongside the vehicles. Tess, Monica, Andrew, and Gloria followed the others in Tess’ Cadillac convertible.
When the refugees came to the Lebanon border, the border guards waved them through. Hours later, the vehicles pulled to a stop in front of the rock city of Petra. By then, glittering stars dotted the velvety-black sky. Climbing out of their vehicles, the refugees crept through the narrow crevice that served as an entrance leading into the city. Some of the angels moved to the front of the line, unearthly light pouring off their bodies, lighting the way for the refugees.
When the last person had made it safely inside the towering rock walls, everyone relaxed and milled around. The planes had arrived earlier, and the refugees who had come to Petra on them had set up generators and floor lamps. Soft light shaded the canyon.
Jacob leaned against the nearest stone pillar, and sighed. Thank You, Jehovah! he silently prayed. Out loud, he added, “Now what?”
END OF CHAPTER 13