Angels of War (Angels of War Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

Fred Morrison, the presidential scientific advisor, approached Wallace. “Sir, what happened on the White House lawn can be explained.”

“How Morrison? Tell me how you explain experienced soldiers going down like untrained amateurs. Now get away from me.”

Morrison slinked from the red-faced man. Patricia Jones eyed the scientific advisor with enmity. “Sir, we need to talk to them. Reason with them.”

“No one can reason with the likes of Hell.” A woman’s voice rose in the room.
 

The guard closest to the voice spun to face a short woman positioned behind him. He raised his weapon, but her hands moved fast. She snatched the rifle from his grip, broke the black weapon in two pieces over her knee and tossed the useless plastic and steel to the floor.

Joan touched the soldier’s arm. “Calm yourselves. Calm your men, President Wallace.”

President Wallace lifted his hands and his protection team lowered their rifles. “How did you get in here? The walls are thirty feet thick, made of titanium. We are forty stories beneath the earth. How did you get in here?”

Joan eased forward. “I’m Joan of Heaven, angel and helper to the archangel Michael, who guards the gates of Heaven, who protects all in Heaven and upon the earth.”
 

She passed several well-dressed people and faced the president. “President Wallace, Heaven needs your help. Without your assistance, something huge and horrible will start. And the entire world will be lost.”

Raymond Judd Wallace, President of the United States, glanced at his presidential advisor. Patricia Jones nodded. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and exhaled through his lips. He opened his eyes and the petite angel remained where she stood. He struggled to accept her presence or the situation he faced. Trust would not come easy to someone who snuck through solid metal and defeated a nine-foot tall monster.
 

21

President Raymond Wallace sat in a room with Joan and his advisors. The angel laid out to them what happened in Los Angeles and the reason why Heaven needed their help. He ran a hand over his sweat-slicked face despite the air conditioner turned up high.
 

“Why us? Why not Britain, Africa or anywhere else in the world? Why here, Joan?” Wallace gazed at her with red glassy eyes. “Everything you’re telling me is supported by the madness I saw on the lawn an hour ago. The Marines being pushed back, the Air Force having to stand down. I’m still having a hard time believing this. I don’t understand. Why us?”

 
“I can’t tell you, but they are here searching for the Key, who lives in Mexico City. They are willing to do everything they can to find her and open the back gate located near Denver, Colorado.”

Wallace leaned back in his seat. “Denver. The battle will happen in Denver. I don’t remember Denver being in the Bible.”

Joan shook her head. “Denver is not in the Bible and this is not the Second Coming, Mr. President. This is the beginning of a war to prevent the end from happening.”

“Patricia, should we send troops to Mexico City and find her, this Key?”

Joan reached out and touched the president’s hand. “No, sir. No matter how many armies you send down there, they will wipe them out.”

Wallace nodded. “What do we do?”

Joan turned to the presidential advisor. “Patricia Jones,” she said. “You hold a secret capable of helping the world end this conflict. In fact, no president is privy to this information since the program started in the sixties.”

President Wallace shifted in his seat. “What is she talking about, Jones?”

Patricia Jones turned to General Black. “Should I tell him, or you?”

General Black folded his thick fingers. “I’ll tell him. Sir, President Kennedy created a program during the sixties. It’s called the Armageddon Project.”

“The what?”

Jones said, “Sir, Kennedy thought up a special unit, and they laughed at the idea. Nevertheless, he created two ultra-secret divisions, and we still maintain the units. The units are trained to handle this event.”

President Wallace’s face reddened. “My troops died out there and you failed to prevent this atrocity.” He bolted from his seat and smashed a fist upon the tabletop.

Joan spoke up. “It’s not her fault, sir. The enemy attacked us by surprise.”

“We expected the Rapture,” Patricia said. “Nothing happened. No one floated into the air or vanished. We did not hear of any reports of the Rapture, so we could not do anything but sit and wait. We watched the air battle fail, the land battle also. Still. We couldn’t move.”

“You wanted to negotiate with them, Patricia,” Raymond said.

“To find out what they wanted, sir.”

Joan leaned forward to draw Patricia Jones wet eyes to her. “We need them now, Patricia. We need them more than you can comprehend.”

President Wallace relaxed his fist and eyed Joan. “How do I know you’re not one of them?” His eyes narrowed. “You might be like that thing you fought. A sham to get in here and destroy us all.”

Joan stood from the table. “You know what? Someone in this little hideout needs to die before you listen to me. Be aware, Mr. President. Goth came for you,” she said. “I’ll go. Next time one of General Temeculus’s heralds come knocking. I’m going to let them knock you into the next world. They did not come to earth for vacation. They came here to destroy the world.”

Patricia outstretched a hand. “Wait, Joan. Wait.” She turned to the president. “Sir, we need to give this a chance. We have lost far too many civilians and troops. Our cities are in chaos, and we might have to enforce martial law in D.C. soon. We must give her a chance.”

“Give me an hour to think about this Heaven and Hell stuff.”

Joan nodded and stormed from the office and into the command room packed with busy soldiers. She sensed General Black approach from behind. “They are bent on releasing the dragon, general. Even the possibility of such an act is beyond comprehension.”

General Black nodded. They faced the three IMAX screens hung on the command center walls. Each screen depicted a different scene in the country. People prayed in one scene, riots in another. People jammed the weakened fence along the Mexican border. The sight brought a thin smile to his face. “Do you think we’ll win?”

Joan faced the tall man who stood next to her. “I’m not sure. Too many unknowns are in play. A Hell trained general, five angels and no army to stop the enemy. The odds are not in our favor, General Black.”
 

Black leaned against the brass rail built across the conference area. Below them sat the command center. He loosened his tie. “I figured. Do you think some of us will side with them?”

“Of course. A good many will. A good many have.”

“What will he offer the traitors?”

Joan admired General Black’s coolness. “Oh, he will offer them the usual, power, money, eternal life as long as they serve Lucifer.”

“That’s disconcerting, ma’am.”

 
“Call me Joan, general. I’m a soldier angel.”

“Okay, Joan.” He pursed his lips. “You’re an angel of war. Like soldiers, we have some that fight and others in support.”

“Yes, you can say I’m the Special Forces of the bunch, me and the other four.”
 

A throat cleared over an intercom speaker. Joan stared up at an upper office window where the president motioned for her to come up. “Talk to you later, General Black.”

“You can bet we will.”
 

Joan headed towards the elevator guarded by two soldiers dressed in black. She took the elevator to President Wallace’s private upper office and stepped out on thick carpet.

President Wallace stood at the office window. Fat pouches hung underneath his small hazel eyes. His thin lips pulled down at the ends to form a frown creased with fine lines.

“Can you foresee the future, Joan?”

“Only what God shows me. Otherwise I’m like you in some aspects.”

President Wallace folded his arms. “Is my guardian angel here?”

“Yes she is.”

Wallace lifted an eyebrow. “She?”

“She is I.”

“My God. I never thought this day would come. The last of days.” He shook his head.
 

Joan stood next to the president. “These are not the last days, Raymond. This is war.”

“The last days are a war.”

“Consider this a skirmish, one we must stop before we loose too much control.”

Wallace sat on his desk. His eyes shifted from one IMAX screen to another as madness unfolded over the world. “I think this is beyond our control, Joan. Why did God let this happen?”

“He didn’t. They did this on their own and are here with half their powers, Mr. President. God wants this over as much as you do. Even more so, but He cannot get involved. The Rapture will not happen.”

“So, as you told us earlier. Five angels are going to save us.”

“No. We are going to help you save yourselves.”

“None of you will die?”

“If we lose our heads we are done until the Second Coming. I heal. Lord Goth struck me with his horn and battleax. I heal. I bleed, and I suffer pain. Even so, I must protect my head from being detached from my body. Like the enemy, they must not lose their heads either.”

Wallace lifted a red folder from the desk and handed the thick item to Joan. “Read this, Joan. My scientific advisor committed suicide in the bathroom fifteen minutes ago. Shot to the head”

Joan opened the folder. “I figured much.”

“More people are going to start shooting themselves and jumping out of windows. Guilty conscious you think?”
 

“I think so, Raymond.” Joan read the papers tucked inside the red folder. Two divisions, all Special Forces soldiers who stood ready to fight in the Second Coming.
 

“Do they meet your specifications, Joan?”

“We need changes. Big ones. No rifles. The troops will be fighting with swords, spears, arrows and shields. I need cavalry also. I need ten thousand men and woman. All volunteers whose faith resides in God. I decide if they are worthy.”

“Ok. But tell me. Why did you wait so late to save those people?”

“You’re stubborn, Raymond. You would not have believed me if I just showed up at your doorstep proclaiming to be an angel. I still don’t think you trust me.”

“Patricia believes I should trust you.”

“Patricia has a good heart. Her place is set.”

“What about mine?”
 

“Well, what about yours?” She closed and placed the folder on the desk. “How fast can you assemble these soldiers?”

“Give me two days,” he said.

“Okay.” Her eyes scanned the screens along the walls. Her heart ached for the people who ran in fear. If they would stop for a moment and gather their senses, they would survive.
 

To her left, President Raymond Wallace fell to his knees in a corner and prayed. Joan sensed God’s silent urge for her to hurry.

22

Lord Goth returned to Hell’s Cathedral bathed in his own blood. Fear came off his gruesome body in sour waves as he trudged into General Temeculus’s ghoulish chambers. An arched ceiling four stories high towered above him. Human bones, some in parts, and others in whole decorated the walls. Torchlights splashed the cathedral innards in blood red and black.
 

Goth changed his form to human and approached the general. Temeculus faced a black stone table. A large map made from human skin covered its top. Other demons surrounded the table in various shapes and sizes. Goth eased himself to one knee and bowed his head.

General Temeculus stopped his work. “So what did he say?”
 

Lord Goth, still on one knee, lifted his head. His grip tightened on his battleax ironwood staff to steady his nerves. “I fought someone, general.”

General Temeculus’s lips twitched. The other demons backed away from the table. “Fought someone, of course you did. I figured they would fight you.”

Lord Goth licked his lips. “No, general. I fought Joan the angel.”

Harsh laughter, ripe with pain and anger rose from behind Temeculus. He turned back to the table and the head on the stretched skin. The head turned halfway around. “You find something funny, General Wells?”

“I hope they slaughter you all,” the general said. His voice cracked and wavered to get the words out.

General Temeculus smiled and turned his gaze back to Lord Goth. “Rise, Goth.” The demon rose to his feet. “Joan, Michael’s pupil is she not?”

“Yes, sir.”

Temeculus drew his sword and sliced Goth’s human body in half at the waist. A shriek pierced the foul air and echoed off the horrid chamber walls. The two halves hit the ground in a red splash. Lord Goth morphed to his true form.
 

Temeculus kicked the lower half. The bloody mess hit the balcony. The general pointed his sword at Goth’s neck. “Goth, never come back here alive after you fight an angel. You kill them.”

Goth’s mouth moved in silence. His hands made spirals in the spilled filth from his sliced body. “Yes, general.”
 

Temeculus knelt on powerful haunches, tapped his sword blade against Goth’s neck thick with muscle. “She’s a tiny woman. You should be ashamed.” He rose and walked back to the table covered with General Wells’s live flesh. The demons regrouped around the table. “Put yourself back together, Goth. I need you.”

“Yes, master.” Goth crawled towards his severed half. The muscled legs kicked on the balcony as if in a full run. With his arms, he scampered forward. His intestines trailed bloody ropes along the black floor until he reached the balcony and positioned himself next to his detached half. He clenched his teeth in pain and reformed.

Temeculus snapped his sword. Lord Goth’s blood splattered the floor. He replaced his hellish blade into its sheath. “Also, Goth. Lick my floor clean before you bring your ugly face over here.” He stroked Wells’s head with one hand. “Be quick you bastard.”

“Yes, general.”

General Temeculus grunted as Lord Goth’s long black tongue slid from his mouth to lap the blood and filth from the floor. He turned to his captains. “The angel Joan entered the fight and she will not be working alone.” He balled his hands into solid fists as his hell-born officers poured over General Wells’s stretched flesh.