The Scriptures by Dekker Green

Author:Dekker Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingston Imperial

JD – 7 Days

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The Oval Office

“My fellow Americans,” John said into the camera, and smiled. He sat at the old presidents’ desk, tattered remnants of flags at his back, and a view out of a smashed window frame to a smoking waste of a city beyond. “Do not despair in this time of trial and tribulation, for I have come to bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

The same setup for broadcasting that he’d used down in the PEOC worked just as well up here in the Oval Office when he got it all connected in place. He had no idea how many people were picking up—if any—but he was sending—the Word was spreading—that was what he’d been tasked with.

“We are one day closer to the Lord,” he said. “And as it was foretold, lo, so it has come to pass.”

He clicked his mouse and an image went out over the airways—Paris this time, the old city of lights now gone dark and quiet and empty. The Avenue des Champs-Élysées was devoid of traffic and awash with water. Bodies—a pyre higher than the monument itself—burned beside the Arc De Triomphe and the swollen waters of the Seine lapped around the bottom of the base of the Eiffel Tower. The main tall spire of the tower itself was nowhere to be seen, as if shorn off by a blast. The great museum of the Louvre was sunken, drowned and collapsed, the master artworks of the centuries torn and discarded—Mona Lisa smiled as she wafted to and fro in a murky current of dank water. In the city itself, there was no movement—bodies sat slumped in chairs in street-side cafes, oozing sickly fluids to the ground, more of the wet dead lay in the parks, in the alleys, in the streets. A last shot showed Notre Dame Cathedral, listing to one side, in the process of being eroded, inch by inch, ever faster, the old stones were being slowly eked out of the walls and foundations and taken by the swirling river.

“So ends the mighty works of man,” John said. “For too long we have been worshipping false idols, living on false hope. Render unto Mammon that which is Mammon’s.”

Three loud trumpet blasts filled the room and escaped out into the whole city—heard wherever the broadcast was seen, like thunder booming across the sky.

“If he sees the sword coming upon the land and blows the trumpet and warns the people, then if anyone who hears the sound of the trumpet does not take warning, and the sword comes and takes him away, his blood shall be upon his own head. He heard the sound of the trumpet and did not take warning; his blood shall be upon himself.”

John clicked the mouse again.

Toronto, the tall towers and spires were all fallen, the great lake was full of the dead, its rippling surface was not blue, but red—blood red.

Click. Moscow and Red Square—or what was left of it. The old city was a smoking ruin, the great walls of the palace tumbled.

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