The Unveiling Read online

  The gut feeling among most was yes. The very thought of the Antichrist orchestrating an event as beautiful as this was difficult for new believers to conceive, let alone participate in.

  If Salvador Romanero was the soon-to-come Antichrist of the Bible, it was easy to see why the masses would fully submit to his leadership and his One-World system. He would have unforeseen powers never before manifested in man. In the end, the billions he would deceive would ultimately learn their fate: by placing their trust in him, they were doomed for all eternity.

  In just a few short hours, the media had somehow taken someone who was a complete unknown to most and elevated him to a household name. Unlike the numerous others they’d elevated in the past, and later took even greater pleasure destroying, no one saw this happening with the young Spaniard.

  Salvador Romanero was someone worth protecting at all costs. Sure, he was young, they reasoned, but he had this deity-like presence to him.

  Was he God?

  They were unsure. All they knew for now was that, whoever he was, he seemed destined to do great and wonderful things.

  So blinding was his meteoric rise that it quickly overshadowed all other things, including the earth-shattering discovery the night before that last Saturday’s mayhem was Christian in nature.

  Few seemed to care. It was suddenly old news.

  All they could think about now was Salvador Romanero...

  8

  TAMIKA MOSELEY WAS AWAKENED by a fierce rainstorm. Not that she was really sleeping anyway. Her eyes were closed the past couple of hours, but her mind was nowhere near at rest. She hadn’t slept soundly for more than three hours at a time since her mother and two sons were taken from her last weekend.

  A cold front had muscled its way into the Northeast, bringing with it three inches of cold, windy rain. Had it been a few degrees colder, surely New York City would have seen a significant snowfall. Rain was forecast throughout the day. But with such crazy and unpredictable weather patterns these days, who really knew what to expect on any given day?

  Tamika sat on the edge of her bed and listened to the rain slapping her bedroom window. At times, it sounded like a bunch of island natives pounding on drums. The water flooded the leaf-filled rooftop gutters, and rapidly flowed down the drains leading into the streets.

  Usually, a storm like this would comfort Tamika and soothe her nerves, but not now. Nothing was helping. With every light off in her apartment, and with gloomy clouds hovering above, near total darkness enveloped her. It looked more like 7 p.m. instead of 7 a.m.

  It was just Tamika, her pet cat, Cocoa, and the rain. And God?

  Mostly thanks to the inner peace Charles Calloway exuded, despite that his life was in total ruins, Tamika actually toyed with the idea of praying the past few days. Life was too crazy to manage on her own. She could no longer ignore whatever was gnawing away at her insides.

  Nor could she ignore what was headed Planet Earth’s way. At least according to Charles...If his closeness to God was the reason for the peace he seemed to have, perhaps it might work for her as well?

  Tamika sat on her bed a few moments more with her hands on her lap, deciding whether or not to go through with it. Oh, why not? she finally reasoned. What do I have to lose?

  She bowed her head, “God, if You really exist like Charles say You do, then You must be listenin’ right now. If You there, I need a sign. Somethin’ I can know for sure is from You. Somethin’ that’ll allow me to put my faith in You and You alone. Just give me a sign. Something…Anything...Please…Uh…Amen.”

  After waiting five minutes in total silence, the only thing Tamika felt was that she’d just wasted her time. She foolishly looked around the room to make sure no one was listening to her ridiculous cry for help.

  “That’s what I thought. Nothing!”

  Tamika went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Sitting on a brown corduroy throw-pillow inside the windowsill in the kitchen, listening to the rain falling from the sky above, not even her favorite place in the apartment could comfort her. She felt terribly alone.

  The New York City taxicab driver had battled with depression off and on throughout the years, especially after her ex-husband, Isaac, converted to Islam two years ago, destroying what she thought was a great family. Compared to now, those other moments weren’t worth complaining about.

  If the journey from doubt to despair was short, Tamika was on the verge of coming completely apart at the seams, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. For someone who was only 27, she’d already suffered enough pain in her life for someone twice her age.

  Already on information overload, she chose not to listen to the news or watch TV. And this meant she knew nothing about the Summit in Brussels, the billions now gathered outdoors for the universal vigil, or anything about Salvador Romanero or his bold weather prediction.

  Even if she knew, there was no chance she would participate. Tamika didn’t have the strength or the mental capacity to absorb it all, at least not now. Life was suddenly one big blur to her.

  Part of her anxiety stemmed from not knowing how she would fill the hours in the coming days. With her four-day vacation set to begin, she begged her boss to let her keep working.

  As much as he wanted to accommodate her request, her hours had already been filled. “With so many drivers and far less taxis in service,” he had told her on the phone, “there are only so many hours to go around.” He then said, “Regarding your text message about the Plexiglas divider being gone in your cab, and that you no longer have that added security barrier between yourself and the backseat, once again, thousands of taxicabs were severely damaged last weekend; hundreds more are in total disrepair…”

  Tamika had countered, “Should I remind you that…”

  Cutting her off, her boss had said, “No, Tamika, you don’t need to remind me again that taxicab drivers are sixty times more likely to be robbed at gunpoint than any other profession. I’m quite mindful of that fact. Like all other cabbies requesting new vehicles, if your cab is still functional, meaning the lights and turn signals still work, you’re to keep it for now, regardless of outward appearance. Once the entire fleet’s been inventoried, upgrades might then be possible. Until then, you’re stuck with what you have!”

  The way he said it left no room for negotiation. But a dented taxicab was only one of Tamika’s problems. After not seeing a single young child walking the streets the past few days, she reluctantly gave up searching for her two sons, Jamal and Dante, and her mother, Ruth, as well.

  As much as she wanted to still be in denial, Charles Calloway was right; they were gone. That much she now believed. But Jesus causing His true believers—including all young children—to vanish all at once? What about the scores of other organized religious groups in the world also offering, promising, eternal bliss to their flocks? Each had many loyal followers.

  Who really knew which path was the right one?

  Maybe they were all right. Maybe they were all wrong!

  Who really knew...

  Though Charles sounded so convincing, her ex-husband, Isaac, was just as convinced that Allah was the only way. So much so that he boldly proclaimed it everywhere he went when they still were together.

  What was the difference between God and Allah or Jesus and Mohammad?

  Tamika had always heard many good things about Jesus. And despite that Allah had all but ruined her marriage, she’d heard good things about him too. Then again, he had scores of lunatic followers running around killing and even beheading infidels in his name.

  Where was the peace in that?

  And what about the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, Confucius and Buddha? They also had huge flocks of committed believers. Tamika once read that some people in India worshiped
more than 300,000,000 gods.

  If so, how could anyone possibly narrow it down to just one, when each made so much sense to their scores of followers?

  Tamika was convinced that even in these crazy times, if she walked the streets of her city, she would nevertheless still encounter lots of folks out there seeking new converts for the hundreds of faith-based spiritual enlightenment groups represented.

  With so many, how could anyone know for sure they’d chosen the right one? Having only one God for billions of people seemed a bit shallow to her, especially considering the many diverse cultures and different languages in the world.

  Yet, according to Charles Calloway, Jesus was the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no one came to the Father except through Him.

  The man seemed so sure of his salvation. He wasn’t the only one. Millions around the world were just as fanatical about the gods they worshiped as he was. In that light, how was it possible to choose only one?

  Stroking Cocoa’s fur, Tamika said, “I must really be on God’s bad list, girl. Seems He’s gotten everyone’s attention except mine!”

  Taking the last sip of her tea, she placed the cup in the kitchen sink and went to shower.

  Looking in the mirror, her normally dark silky-smooth skin looked ashen. Her face looked skeletal; bones protruded through her cheeks. Her lively brown almond-shaped eyes looked dead. Having lost so much weight the past few days—at least ten pounds—she didn’t look or feel healthy.

  The only thing that looked normal to her was the tightly coiled hair on her head. Other than that, Tamika Moseley very much resembled the walking dead.

  Just the motivation I need to get me through the day, she thought turning on the shower.

  9

  WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK Midnight in Brussels, world leaders, dignitaries and delegates stood side by side, holding hands with thousands of Belgian citizens who’d made their way to NATO Headquarters to participate in the vigil.

  NATO peacekeeping troops had no choice but to stand down after being ordered to by Secretary-General Jurgen Staat. His orders were firm: “Let the people come!”

  And they did; especially the 30 and under crowd! But Belgians weren’t the only ones storming NATO Headquarters. Many from neighboring countries traveled all day just to join them.

  While honored to be part of the human love chain circling the massive building, more than anything they wanted to catch a glimpse of the rising superstar from Spain.

  Citizens fortunate to be close enough to see Salvador Romanero screamed hysterically. Others fainted on the cold pavement in total awe of the man.

  The press had it covered from all angles. Romanero was right. This really was the perfect way to end the Summit. Hundreds of cameras were trained on him at all times.

  Standing to his right was the Pope. To his left was NATO Secretary-General Jurgen Staat. Smiling and nodding for the cameras, it was evident that both world leaders were elated just to be in the young man’s presence.

  But Romanero’s head remained down the whole time. Was he meditating? Praying? Whatever he was doing, reporters respectfully spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to break him from his reverie.

  The vigil lasted only 30 minutes, but with the entire world watching, the impact was immediately felt everywhere.

  Before dispersing, the Pope clasped hands with Romanero, ever so endearingly, and blessed the young man, amid a flurry of flashes from thousands of cameras and cell phones.

  The two men smiled as if they’d been the best of friends for many years. It was both remarkable and bizarre at the same time.

  Mostly thanks to Salvador Romanero, world leaders would leave Brussels, Belgium with a new sense of synergy never before felt. They lined up one after the next to have a moment with the Spaniard and take a few selfies with him. Just having a photograph with the young phenom would become cherished possessions for each of them.

  Thousands of common citizens observed it all unfolding, with smiles that hadn’t crossed their faces since last weekend. They frantically shouted Romanero’s name and begged for autographs and selfies with him. He promised to remain outside NATO Headquarters long after world leaders dispersed, to accommodate every last request.

  Once again, the press ate it up. The whole world ate it up!

  President Jefferson Danforth observed the mayhem a short distance away and was filled with great angst. He rubbed his throbbing forehead, hoping to release the mounting pressure that had built over the past 24 hours. He wasn’t overly concerned if it made him look weak to some.

  Then again, save for the three reporters and lone cameraman standing in front of him, no one else seemed to notice him. They were too focused on Salvador Romanero.

  It was a bitter pill for the leader of the free world to swallow.

  Even thousands of miles aPresident Jefferson Danforth observed the mayhem a short distance away and was filled with great angst. He rubbed his throbbing forehead, hoping to release the mounting pressure that had built over the past 24 hours. He wasn’t overly concerned if it made him look weak to some.

  way from home, the President could feel the growing tidal wave of support being generated for Romanero in America. Midnight was still five and a half hours away on the East Coast, yet millions of Americans had already lined the streets anticipating the vigil.

  It was all too surreal. I’m their leader! Not this unknown radical from Spain! Sensing democracy, and perhaps ultimately his power, dwindling among the people he governed, the pressure was on to deliver a flawless speech like Salvador Romanero had done all day.

  But how could he remain positive under such conditions, especially amid constant shouts of “Salvador! Salvador! Salvador!” filling the night air? Not only that, not a single drop of participation had fallen anywhere in the world where the vigil was taken place, churning the President’s stomach even more violently.

  You just had to love politics, he thought to himself, gulping hard.

  It was showtime. Standing in front of the camera, President Danforth was banking on the decision he’d made earlier, to hopefully turn the overwhelming tide of support back in his favor again. But first he had other news to share with the American people. He began by telling them that in a hopeful attempt to stimulate the global economy, a trillion-dollar cash infusion would be made into the world’s banking and economic systems sometime next week.

  “Of course, a cash infusion guarantees nothing,” the President warned, his salt-and-pepper-hair blowing wildly in the stiff wind, “but without it, total economic collapse is imminent. Once the funds have been pumped into the system, cash withdrawals can then be made at ATM machines, but only in fifty-dollar increments to start. Debit and credit cards will also be processed at that time, but also with strict purchase limits. Though small, it’s a vital step in the right direction.”

  After informing the people he governed on other key issues discussed earlier with world leaders, from the imminent threat of global terrorism, to global hunger and everything in between, it was time to deliver the most tragic bit of news.

  Said he, “My fellow Americans, as you have undoubtedly heard by now, last Saturday’s mayhem was indeed Christian in nature. This explains our many losses three days ago. Going by the percentages, it pains me to report that more Americans were lost last Saturday than any other body of citizens.”

  Sighing, he went on, “We now know what happened and who was affected by it. What still remains unknown is why it happened in the first place. I believe in time we will know.”

  It was time to share the good news. Though totally against the idea a day ago, President Danforth was about to single-handedly solve the transportation problem, at least in America.

  “Immediately after the disappearances, I ordered work crews
to begin clearing our many cluttered runways, railways and highways. After being assured that some are in good enough condition to be reopened, I have ordered some modes of transportation operational come sunrise, including air travel, but on a limited basis.”

  He paused a moment to let his words sink in before continuing, “At first, I was only going to authorize the transport of deceased bodies, to prevent from the possible spread of various diseases. But after tonight’s touching display of solidarity, the only way to make it truly complete is by reuniting all stranded travelers around the globe with their grieving families. Imagine the constant anguish stranded travelers have endured all this time, by being so far from home among the horror?

  “In a few minutes, I’ll be leaving for Wisconsin to bury my late mother. I couldn’t imagine not being able to attend her funeral. Then again, no one should be denied such a thing.” Sighing, he said, “It’s with that in mind that we must do all we can to bring friends and family members stranded in foreign countries back home immediately, whether dead or alive.”

  President Danforth shifted his weight and continued, “America is prepared to do our part. If the rest of the world will only follow our lead and do the same, millions of stranded travelers can be home with their families within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  The President looked beyond the glaring light of the camera trained on him. From what he could see on the faces of the three reporters, risky or not, they seemed to be in favor of the idea.

  Seeing their smiling faces strengthened his resolve. With newfound energy, he ended his speech by saying, “I know this is but a small token when compared to what we’ve all been forced to endure but having our loved ones back home can only help.”

  His last words were, “My sincere hope is that you all enjoy tonight’s vigil. And let me be the first to wish you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving. God Bless America!”