Then Comes Lightning Prologue & Chapter One

For those of you who have read the first two books of the Lightning Chronicles and are awaiting the third in print form, well, here it is in this blog. "Then Comes Lightning" awaits publishing. In the meantime, I want you to have the opportunity to read, enjoy, and see the series concluded with a BANG! A new chapter will appear every few days. Please let me know what you think by clicking on the "comment" line.

THEN COMES LIGHTNING
Book Three
The Lightning Chronicles
By
Jimmy Root Jr.


Prologue
568 B.C.

Tel Abib, Babylon

Ezekiel struggled to steady himself, but his strength was spent. Never had a trance been this extreme, actually dropping him to the hard, rock surface of the well cover. He sought any grip that might keep him from falling in embarrassment.
Suddenly, Ezekiel felt the firm hands of a helper slide under his arms, and the unknown man steadied him immediately.
“Father, would it not be better to breathe? Why do you look at me as if I was a phantom? I am of the same flesh and blood as you. Now breathe!” The newcomer’s words were laced with humor, but not disrespect.
Ezekiel was mesmerized. The man’s eyes were as deep as the sea and as black as a moonless night. He strained to break the man’s steely gaze and finally summoned the energy to sit upright. There was something about the helper that rendered the old prophet powerless.
“Who are you?” Ezekiel asked faintly.
A grin formed on the man’s face and a twinkle glinted in his eyes. He reached up to remove a helmet of hammered gold from his head.
Ezekiel noticed the purple fringes of a Jewish prayer shawl peaking from under an ornate breastplate. Around crimson-dyed trousers a leather belt was clasped by a cut ruby larger than any he could’ve imagined. On the man’s finger was a hardened signet ring. He was a ruler of Babylon, but strangely, he spoke in clear, royal-born Hebrew.
“My Babylonian master calls me Belteshazzar. My name, however, will always remain Daniel.”
Ezekiel’s brows furrowed, “Belteshazzar? You are the King’s man. Why are you here?”
“You!” he laughed. “You are the reason. Listen, you believe that Jehovah has deposited you at the ends of the earth, but your words are being trumpeted throughout the empire. I am here to encourage you, and to learn.”
Daniel offered the prophet a bladder filled with water, and Ezekiel gulped freely. After drinking his fill he nodded and spoke his mind. “I have only been commissioned to speak the word of the Lord here in Tel-Abib. How is it that you have heard?”
“Oh, my friend,” Daniel patted Ezekiel’s bony shoulder, “there is no greater diversion in the empire than the spread of rumor and intrigue. The fact that you have prophesied against the enemies of Nebuchadnezzar has enticed the king to plant his spies. Your every word reaches his ears and tickles his hearing. By this time tomorrow your oracle against his Persian thorns will have brought a great smile to his face. Did you not know? Nebuchadnezzar is now a worshipper of Jehovah?”
“This cannot be! How is it so?” Ezekiel gasped.
“It is a long story and one for another day. I am here for a purpose. This evening as you spoke, you witnessed something similar to a vision I recently experienced.” Daniel’s voice receded to a whisper. “Tell me, what did you see?”
The prophet took a deep breath. “I saw the mountains of Israel covered with a great host of vermin, come to take the spoil from Jerusalem. The peaks were reeling with the quaking of the earth. Rocks were dislodged and falling upon the armies. The rugged grounds were leveled. Then I saw shards of lightning proceed from the Holy Place.”
Ezekiel stopped and clasped his hands around Daniel’s forearms. Desperation and hope mingled in his voice. “I saw the Holy Place. I saw...” His breath came in short gasps, causing a pulse of worry within Daniel’s heart.
“Easy my friend. Calm yourself and go on.”
The prophet took a deep intake of air and steadied himself to continue. “Each bolt of light rose high and flashed towards the mountains. Every peak erupted in anger. Fire, brimstone, and hail fell from the sky. Magog’s armies were confused and began to fight against one another even as they were being crushed from above. Then a massive shard, larger than life itself, flew into the sky, shooting toward the east. It seemed poised to encircle the earth, and then it disappeared in a flash. Ezekiel sighed and released his grip on Daniel’s arms. “The vision ended as abruptly as it began. The next thing I saw was you, staring me in the face.”
Daniel stood upright and began to pace in front of the well. His arms were crossed, and he stroked his chin as he formed his next query.
“What was the source of the lightning? From what did it spring? Focus,” Daniel urged.
Ezekiel allowed his mind’s eye to return to the holy mountain of Judea, to the place where Solomon’s Temple had once adorned the chosen city of God. It was if he were an eagle soaring above the land. Then, he gasped and recaptured the penetrating gaze of his guest.
“What did you see?” Daniel stiffened.

CHAPTER ONE


UNITED PRESS…dateline November 6th…Chaos exists in the streets of five cities stricken by nuclear-armed terrorists. Reports from Seattle, Kansas City, Houston, Atlanta, and Baltimore confirm that the rule of law has given way to anarchy. Gangs roam freely in neighborhoods unaffected by radiation fallout. Most police agencies, short of manpower, have chosen to protect suburban areas where FEMA centers have been established to attend to the multitude of refugees.

ASSOCIATED PRESS…dateline November 6th….. White House Press Secretary, Gordon Jones, reiterated that President Yangton and his National Security Team are safe and working to restore the security of the nation in the wake of Wednesday’s tragedies. The Secretary announced an Executive Order recalling the all US Navy Fleets to American territorial waters. “Protecting our country from further terrorist attacks is our highest priority,” Jones stated.

REUTERS NEWS AGENCY…dateline November 6th…. An unnamed senior White House source said today that President Yangton will reset America’s relationship with Israel. The source is quoted as saying: “The President is deeply concerned that Israel has callously provoked the world by its incursions into Libyan sovereign territory and attacks on the Sudanese military in the Gulf of Aqaba. There no longer seems to be room for compromise.”

CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR…dateline November 6th …. The Federal Aviation Administration lifted temporary restriction on domestic and foreign flights due to the desperate need to deliver recovery teams to the five affected cities. However, tight security measures and a failing economy have dampened any enthusiasm for travel.

THE LONDON TIMES ….dateline November 7th… Lead divisions of the Russian peacekeeping coalition have encountered heavy resistance by ultra-jihadist elements of the Lebanese Army northeast of Beirut. The Kremlin says it is dismayed at the development though steadfast in fulfilling the UN mandate to subdue and pacify the embroiled region.

NEW YORK TIMES….dateline November 7th… Reports confirm that six divisions of the Iranian Pasdran Revolutionary Army have advanced into Syria via the newly proclaimed State of Kurdistan, formerly northern Iraq. Meanwhile, Jordan’s King Abdullah has negated all extant treaties with Israel and has invited the Iranian Air Force to utilize Jordanian airfields as bases of operations. It is believed by the Israelis that Abdullah has caved to unspecified Iranian threats.

JERUSALEM POST….dateline November 7th… Unconfirmed reports suggest that five Turkish Armored divisions are moving along the Mediterranean coast towards Syrian territory.

MOSCOW DAILY NEWS (PRAVDA)….dateline November 7th…. The Kremlin has denied an aerial battle occurred over the Mediterranean Sea between Israeli Air Force F-16 fighter jets and Russian Sukhoi aircraft. “Preposterous,” was the one-word explanation offered by Prime Minister Grigori Polkov when it was suggested that elite Russian aircraft had been defeated in battle.

ST LOUIS DISPATCH…dateline November 7th…. Though Martial Law has been imposed, Kansas City and other terror-effected cities continue to reel from mass rioting and social madness. Lawlessness is spreading as the American economy is lifeless.


Abu Kamal, Eastern Syria
Sunday morning, November 8

“Sahib, it is time,” said the young, whiskerless aide.
Tariq Kazimi, President of the Islamic Republic of Iran and erstwhile leader of the Iranian Pasdaran army scratched under his long, bent nose where three-day-old stubble irritated the skin of his upper lip. He was wearing drab, military garb that hanged loosely from his small frame. No insignia identified his rank, no ribbons or medals signified any service whatsoever. His matching cap was ill-fitted to his large head. Black curly hair sprayed from under its edges. As leader of the Islamic Republic, he’d simply demanded to be outfitted as a regular soldier in the Revolutionary Guards. After all, he was the supreme commander, a title he’d taken for himself.
“Tell them I shall enter in a moment.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” said the aide.
“From this moment onward, Ishtu, you shall address me as Supreme Commander, is this understood?”
The aide bowed. “Yes Supreme Commander. I am at your service.”
“Thank you. Now do as I have required.” He flicked of his hand to dismiss the aide.
Kazimi adjusted the bill of his cap as he reviewed his reflection in the dirty pane of the only window in the room. Satisfied with his bearing, he shrugged and stepped into the meeting. He tucked a swagger stick under his arm for dramatic effect.
His highest ranking generals had been meeting with three Syrian counterparts for the last thirty minutes. They were working to logistically merge the Abu Kamal Brigade with the Pasdaran Army of Iran. Syria’s fifteen thousand troops, fully equipped with a supporting battalion of Russian armor would compliment the one hundred thousand men Kazimi was now leading toward Palestine. In fact, the thought of picking up stray remnants of the defunct Syrian army practically made the man salivate. His dream of initiating a final solution for the Jewish problem was getting closer to becoming a reality with each passing day. In his heart of hearts, Kazimi was determined to usher in the Mahdi, his Messiah. In his mind, he was positive that nothing could now stop him. Islam would take the final steps to world dominance, and the process was beyond the point of no return.
He was still miffed at the Russians. They had demanded that he halt his southward advance and stick to the original design; to pressure Israel from a distance. The plan called for the Iranians to skirt the Syrian border with Turkey then cross the Euphrates River at Tisheen. They were to form the eastern flank of a three-pronged attack from the north. But for Kazimi, that was overkill. Even worse, any glory for subduing Israel would be bestowed to others. He would not allow that to happen, not with his Mahdi being the transcendent rewarder of his faithful servants. The Russians could try to wield control of the coalition if they liked. He would simply choose to go his own way. With a thrill, he knew he was about to throw the entire operation into chaos.
Upon entry to the meeting, the president greeted the Syrians. Whether they knew it or not, they were now his to rule.

Plattsville, Missouri
Sunday, November 8
2:30 p.m., Local Time

Another of life’s many chapters had ended for Ty Dempsey, pastor of Faith Community Church. Barely three weeks had passed since he’d buried his younger brother in the National Cemetery at Leavenworth. Nathan was just another number on a long list of casualties in the Iraqi war. But for Ty, the sting of the loss remained poignant, not only for him, but for his mother. He was her last remaining son and provider, having lost her husband just two years earlier. But even that pain was now compounded, for she too was dead.
Ty could not have known that Nathan’s quiet ceremony would be the beginning of a nightmare. Since that dreary day the world seemed to slip over the edge of a dark abyss. America had been targeted by radical, nuclear-wielding Islamofacists, and Ty had personally witnessed the incineration of downtown Kansas City in a radioactive mushroom.
Israel had suffered a similar attack. Haifa, the small nation’s second largest city had been the target of a nuclear-tipped missile. Though the nuke missed the heaviest concentration of population, tens of thousands of Israeli citizens had perished. That heinous act only served to initiate a cycle of reprisals on the part of the Jews, first with an attack on the Iranian nuclear facilities followed by the destruction of Damascus, Syria. To Ty, the world had gone mad. But it was not without warning. Every event, every move, and every counter move had been predicted long ago. The world would suffer for its sins, and that had led to this moment. Sadly, a higher cost than he could’ve imagined was being paid. Why?
Ty wasn’t tempted to try and figure it out. That would be for later. For now, he was left to stare at the cold casket of his mother, trying once again to come to grips with the cold tentacles of death.
Nothing was as it should be, at least according to the ache in his soul. That shallow part of his humanity wanted to question why things had gone so sour. How could life turn so drastically in such a short span of time? It was easy to say God knew, especially when he was comforting others in their grief. But this grief was Ty’s, and the answers didn’t come so easily. Life was fragile and there was no getting around it.
That he wasn’t the only man in pain didn’t provide much comfort. Five US cities were basically gutted by nuclear detonations. A spirit of lawlessness was ravaging what remained. He’d seen it coming, even to the point of warning his congregation of what was coming. The fact was the world was being torn apart at the seams, and Ty had been passionately preaching about it since God had opened his eyes to the truth of Bible prophecy. What many had discounted as allegorical and figurative was actually coming true, step by literal step. The prophecies would continue to be fulfilled until the Kingdom of God was fully birthed. But what had his preaching accomplished? Nothing but a schism in the church. It ended when his mother took a bullet meant for him.
Ty stood tall beside his mother’s grave, wearing a long, black outer coat that couldn’t ward off the chill he was feeling. Tall and muscular at well over six feet, he suddenly felt small and insignificant in the great scheme of things. A cold breeze seemed to taunt his last vestige of orderliness as it flipped his dark hair across his brow. His blue eyes welled with tears.
Beside him, with her arms wrapped about his waist, was the new love of his life, sustaining him in a loss he’d never dreamed possible. Though it had only been a matter days since the announcement of their engagement, Blake Sieler had already added a new depth of faith and determination to his life. Standing next to Ty, her lovely yet petite frame seemed overwhelmed. But Blake was far from fragile. Her presence was a pillar for him.
Even in his grief Ty was captivated by the whirlwind romance that had brought them to this point. From the moment he’d first seen her at a single’s conference just three months earlier, his heart had been stolen. Still, he’d stalled for several long weeks before deciding to take the plunge. He finally invited the beautiful blond, blue-eyed singer to dinner. To his astonishment she’d been patiently waiting for his call. From that moment they knew God intended them to be together. Now, although everything in his world seemed to be unraveling, he was certain he could go forward in God’s plan as long as she was beside him.
“What a beautiful resting place,” she sighed, thinking of how attached she’d become to Martha Dempsey in such a short time. “She deserves it.”
Ty looked into the bright November sky and distracted his grief by envisioning what might be coming next. God’s prophetic horizon was the Middle East, particularly the State of Israel. Something evil was coming, something that would rock the planet, leaving it to reel in deception and death. But another event also loomed large, one that he’d recently come to love and expect. Jesus would be appearing soon. He’d be coming for his bride, the church made up of all true believers worldwide. Theologians called it the Rapture and it would be the beginning of a prophesied end. It was that very thought that accompanied the last words spoken to him by his mother. “You will live to see the Rapture,” she’d said as life drained from her body.
Glancing down at her casket one last time, Ty knew he’d see her again, along with his deceased father Jimmy and his brother Nathan. The sting of death was sharp and bitter, but hope in Christ was stronger.
He felt a gentle squeeze and realized Blake was looking up at him, trying to get a glimpse at his thoughts. Ty could hardly keep from falling into her bright blue eyes as he returned her gaze. She reached up, touched a tear on his cheek, and smiled.
“Yes, she deserves it,” he finally answered.

The Mountains of Lebanon
Sunday, 10:30 p.m., Local Time

A cold, bitter wind met Major General Anatoly Telnikov as he dismounted the M-8 ‘Hip’ transport helicopter. The short, rugged, power-packed leader of the Russian 7th Airborne Division had just been delivered to the summit of Mount Quarnat as Sawda in northern Lebanon. He removed the in-flight communications helmet and quickly replaced it with a standard issue paratroop beret. The thin covering would do little to protect his closely cropped head against the whistling wind, but his hardened paratrooper image would be reinforced.
Three young soldiers ran to meet him as the chopper deposited the General and returned to flight. It would be returning within the hour delivering other members of his CNC, Command and Control unit. At that point the forward command post would be installed and activated. In the meantime, the highest peak in Lebanon afforded the General a breathtaking view of the area between him and the Israeli border to the south. He walked toward a small, rocky outcropping to get a better look at the nighttime panorama.
Stretching to his east was the breadth of the Bekaa valley, the sight of countless battles since the dawn of time. The Bekaa formed a narrow rift that cut through most of the country of Lebanon. But at the northern most reaches, its width made it a sight to behold. Pinpoints of light were visible across the valley, revealing multiple enclaves. Mostly populated by small farms and roving Bedouin herdsmen, it was also home to the Iranian sponsored militia called Hizbollah. Outside of the capitol city of Beirut, this valley was the busiest piece of real estate in the embattled country, and probably the most dangerous.
Medium-ranged rocket and artillery fire could be seen a bit to his south, most of it emanating from the area in which 104th Parachute Regiment of the Russian 7th had landed. His men were engaging a brigade of Hizbollah and regular Lebanese infantry before making its advance toward Mount Sanine in central Lebanon. Against the backdrop of a black sky, the sight took on the look of a distant pyrotechnic celebration back home in the Motherland.
Telnikov smiled. What a surprise it must be for the self-described ‘Ninja’ fighters! They’d been led to believe the Russians, dropping from dozens of Ilyushin-76 aircraft, were actually coming to assist their little jihad.
Funny how easily the narrow-minded could be fooled, he thought. Too bad! The last thing the coalition needed was the volatility accompanied religious fanatics.
No doubt, what might have been a momentary ally would become a persistent enemy before this little skirmish was over. Thus the danger had to be eliminated. In fact, the sooner the Lebanese were removed as a fighting force the better. Sending them to their virgin-filled paradise pricked the general’s conscience not at all.
Telnikov buttoned the collar of his combat utilities as his train of thought continued. How could otherwise intelligent people swallow the manipulations of the Ayatollahs? He didn’t have the answer. Too many of his own religiously contrived demons haunted him, images that invaded his conscious thought more and more. Oddly, the most impacting paranormal experience had stormed his mind less than forty-eight hours earlier while he was dangling beneath a parachute.
The vision was easy to conjure, though its meaning eluded him. Most startling was the appearance of a larger-than-life sword, complete with flames dancing around its edges. The huge weapon was pointing directly at him from the land of Israel as he descended through the evening sky. Then a voice cried out from the distance, menacing and cold. He could not excise it from his head, no matter how he tried. Repeatedly, he was drawn to the feeling that he had some part to play, something beyond this mission for the Motherland. The voice had warned of blessings and curses, and Israel was the subject. He who blesses you, I will bless. He who curses you and dishonors you, I will curse. The words disturbed him greatly, because they’d been spoken to him long ago by his grandmother on day she died for an outlawed faith. More than forty years had passed since the woman who’d raised him had been brutally executed.
Why is it all coming back at this moment? Telnikov thought. The query was unanswerable, at least for now.
With a shiver he turned his thoughts back to the present. He slowly worked his way around twisted pieces of a wrecked radar array, recently destroyed by the Israelis. For more than a year, the Iranian-built complex had observed and reported on much of Israel’s air activity. Quarnat had been a particularly tasty prize for the Iranians. In the summer of 2008 they’d convinced their Hizbollah underlings to dislodge the Lebanese army from the mount and provide a threat warning system. However, the twisted shards of metal and fiberglass in this no-man’s-land provided a stark reminder that Israel’s squadrons of F-16 fighters still held the high ground in technology.
Everyone expected the Israelis to launch an attack on Iran’s nuclear production facilities, but the Jews had delayed in escalating tensions. Believing themselves invincible, the Iranians made the decision to strike first, even before this particular facility had been completed. Iran’s goal had been to initiate armed conflict with its mortal enemy by launching a medium-ranged Seagah missile at Haifa. On its tip was a nuclear warhead. That attack, along with Israel’s own nuclear response had ultimately led to Telnikov’s feet being firmly planted on this mountain. Now it was his war to fight, and the radical’s wish for battle was being granted.
The general lifted a radio to his lips and depressed the call button. “Colonel Zolenti, I want those M-26 Halos to lift my command trailer to the peak of Mount Quarnat, and I want it done before noon tomorrow. Is that clear?” Telnikov ordered. Frustration laced his words. Although the 104th Regiment’s attack on Hizbollah lines had thus far gone as planned, command and control was taking forever to establish. That irritation would be ending soon, or a head would be figuratively lifted from someone’s shoulders by one of the General’s infamous tongue lashings.
“But General, what about a power input? It will take at least another day to get a high-voltage generator in place to handle the load,” Colonel Alexi Zolenti responded, not without apprehension.
“My dear Colonel, I am presently transfixed by the sight of a three-phase transformer sitting some twenty meters from where I stand. Since I can here it buzzing, I am assuming we have all the energy we will need,” Telnikov retorted. “Now, before you say anything beyond a hardy ‘DA COMRADE,’ understand that I have more competence in my index finger than you posses in your supply-clogged brain. Now get this job done!”
Telnikov did not linger for a response. Instead, his attention was redirected to a massive fireball rising from the direction of the Israeli border. He then saw two pinpoints of light, easily discernable as Israeli attack aircraft, rocketed to high altitude. He knew this because the only air force operating in the sector was the IAF. Twenty seconds later the concussion reached his ears. Ten seconds after that the fighter jets had disappeared.
Telnikov’s radio squawked to life.
“General, we have action to the south,” informed his communications lieutenant.
“Da, I see it—Report!”
“Forward observers say a Lebanese army unit has been launching rockets across the border into Israel all evening. It appears the Jew’s reached their limit of patience,” the lieutenant reported.
“That explosion had more power than anything generated by air-to-ground missiles,” Telnikov said.
“Intelligence says it was a small Fuel-Air-Explosive. The area is ablaze.”
The use of a large FAE was the next best thing to nuclear, being without the effects or the fallout of radiation. Haifa, Israel had suffered that particular radioactive trauma a few days earlier and the Jews had retaliated by obliterating Damascus with nukes. Iran had also been the brunt of Israel’s vengeance, but with less drastic results.
Telnikov was relieved at this new development. It meant the Israelis had backed off the use of their tactical nuclear weapons. “Very well Lieutenant. Keep me apprised of the reports, but I can see most of it from the top of this mountain.”
“Da, General!” the lieutenant ended the transmission.

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