An hour later, Calloway heard back from him. Hi Charles. This is Stephen Candelaria from Sarasota Full Gospel Church. So nice to hear from you. Sort of, anyway. Some of us stopped by your house on numerous occasions last month to see if anyone was still alive. We also called every number we had on file, and even tried contacting Monique on social media. After not hearing back from her, we concluded that you were all taken in the Rapture. Am I to assume that only you were left behind?

  Believe it or not, the church has grown exponentially since the disappearances. All we need now is someone to lead the flock. Now that you’re back in town, stop by at your earliest convenience. I’m sure we have much to discuss. Until then, may God bless and keep you.

  Charles replied: Thanks for getting back to me, Stephen. Yes, I’m the only one still here. I’ll stop by before the new year. I look forward to it.

  Lead the flock, hmm...After reading the Word of God for four straight weeks, Calloway felt ready to share the Gospel with anyone within earshot. If God wanted him to be the new pastor at his church, or at his father’s church in Atlanta, he would obey the Call.

  But more than anything, he wanted to hear back from Clayton Holmes and Travis Hartings. Clayton Holmes said on Skype they had lofty plans. Whatever those plans were, Calloway wanted in, no questions asked.

  Regarding his future with Cell-U-Loss International, Calloway was still unsure. Earlier in the day, Jonathan Steinberg posted a video on the company website—his first communication since the disappearances—updating everyone still alive on the state of the company, so to speak.

  The president of Cell-U-Loss confirmed that 493 of the 586 people who’d attended the seminar in New York City were accounted for. The other 93 vanished.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t a single fatality among the group. Had any of the 493 survivors been outside the hotel at the time, perhaps many would have been killed in the aftermath.

  The luncheon probably saved lives.

  Overall, as far as Steinberg could tell, approximately 20 percent of the company were feared gone, either by death or disappearance.

  Besides e-mailing and texting everyone, with some branches of the post office up and running again, certified letters were mailed to everyone they hadn’t yet heard from.

  Before ending the call, the president of Cell-U-Loss declared that it was time to move on.

  Calloway watched and could only shake his head. The fact that it was posted on Christmas Eve, of all days, really turned him off. He wondered how the man he greatly respected could be so businesslike at a time like this? Weren’t people’s lives more important than making money?

  Apparently not to Jonathan Steinberg. The fact that his family had escaped last Saturday’s mayhem, apparently unscathed, gave him no reason to act so cavalierly on camera. Perhaps the confidence he exuded was merely an act to shield his growing fear that his precious company was in serious trouble and might not survive the aftermath.

  Knowing Steinberg personally, Calloway knew this was a definite possibility. At any rate, if the numbers were correct and the company lost 20 percent of its people—including some of the company’s top reps and management—Charles surmised he would lose 20 percent of his income as a result. At least that much. Perhaps he would lose everything.

  But Calloway wasn’t alone in this regard. Anyone owning a business faced this same staggering realization. Regardless of whether a person vanished last week or was killed, not only were they someone’s family members and friends; they were also someone’s customers.

  Most businesses on the planet, after being dealt a serious blow, would never recover. Would Cell-U-Loss recover? Time would tell...

  One decision Calloway made was that he needed to sell his no longer dreamy “dream house”. No matter how dreadful the real estate market was, he feared it would only get worse.

  Having a $4,000 monthly mortgage payment no longer seemed viable to him. If he only got half of what the house was worth, he would just about break even. Compared to everything else going on in the world, it sounded like a decent proposition.

  Calloway needed to spend every penny wisely from here on out. His latest financial scare came earlier in the week when he went to Costco to stock up on necessary items he knew he would need.

  What would have cost him $300 prior to the Rapture now cost $1,600. Add to that the $260 shuttle fare from the airport and that would explain his growing uneasiness.

  Fearing it would only get worse, the last thing Charles Calloway needed was to be tied down to a hefty mortgage payment.

  With law enforcement agencies extremely understaffed and home burglaries on the vast increase, what personal assurance did he have that his house would be safe if he went away on a trip? He had none. Even the state-of-the-art home security system that used to provide great comfort when he was away on a business trip could no longer be trusted.

  And this meant selling his house as quickly as possible would be the best gift he could give himself this Christmas. He would visit his Realtor after the first of the year and put the house on the market. That is, if his real estate agent even survived last week’s mayhem.

  If not, Calloway would just have to find someone else. Once sold, if sold, he would move into a less conspicuous rental property. Then he’d be free to go wherever the Lord wanted him to go…

  But something else was feasting on Charles Calloway’s insides. It stemmed from something Pastor Jim Simonton had said in his sermon about the Church age officially ending at the Rapture.

  Calloway knew from reading the Word of God and performing many online searches that the Church Age ended at the Rapture. What he didn’t understand was the difference between being part of the Bride of Christ versus being an invited guest at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb.

  By being an invited guest only, did that mean he would function in a separate capacity than his family for all eternity, with no chance of being equal with them?

  He didn’t know, but it sure sounded that way.

  The already devastated man now had something else to lament over.

  40

  CHRISTMAS DAY

  SALVADOR ROMANERO WAS ALONE inside his new residence in Madrid, Spain. The sprawling mansion on a hill was a Christmas gift given by one of Spain’s wealthiest families, who just happened to have close ties to the same secret society in which Romanero was a member.

  Sitting on the living room floor in the lotus position, Romanero looked like a human pretzel with one leg crossed over the other, arms resting freely on top of his knees.

  On this “celebrated day” of Christ’s birth, Romanero was in a deep meditation. Completely surrounded by dark invisible forces, the soon-to-be leader of the world was receiving direct instructions from Satan himself. He saw great visions of the future, things that had never been accomplished before.

  So long as Romanero remained obedient to the devil, and did everything that was expected of him, he would remain invincible. But without the Master Deceiver’s supernatural protection, Salvador Romanero was nothing more than another multi-talented human being.

  In the spirit world, human genius counted for nothing. And this meant, as much as the Miracle Maker was deceiving the nations, Satan was deceiving him!

  Romanero remained in his meditative state for more than an hour. Now out of it, supernatural powers still pulsated through his veins. Each time he prayed to the Prince of Darkness, it seemed his strength increased tenfold. By far, this was his best meeting to date.

  Physically, though well-toned from countless years as an avid soccer player, after crisscrossing the globe more this past month than most would ever do in a lifetime, Romanero was fatigued and needed a break. Knowing next year would be infinitely busier, he needed this time to recharge his batteries, so to speak, by resting his body and mind.

  His next global meeting was scheduled for after the new year at UN Headquarters, in New York City. Under the direct guidance of the Prince of Darkness, Romanero had already blueprinted a myriad of bold ideas which were full of hope and prosperity for all who followed his lead.

  Party lines everywhere would soon be severed—religious, political and racial—in favor of solidarity. Truth would be sacrificed at the altar of political correctness, replaced by a misguided sense of unity. It was unity at the expense of Truth; unity at the expense of liberty; unity at the expense of sovereign freedom.

  What members the secret society who’d catapulted him into the stratosphere in the first place didn’t know was that his plans would ultimately point to one thing: the global worship of himself.

  A wry smile broke across his face. This upcoming meeting would cement his role in the world.

  During a television interview—his last of the year—Romanero promised citizens of the world that by this time next year, they would all wake up to a brave new world.

  Said he, “Though we continue to mourn this holiday season, let me warm you all with this comforting thought. Actually, consider it a promise from me to you. Despite the great uncertainty among the top minds of the medical communities of the world, I have it on the highest authority that children will populate the world again.

  “In fact, by this time next year, there will be great cause for celebration, as many of you will be parents, grandparents and even great grandparents again. Even many of you teenagers will become mothers for the very first time.

  “My dear ladies, nothing can bring back our departed brothers and sisters. But with a future so bright and promising, what better way to honor their memory than by having children of your own? Yes, it’s time to embrace life again! With that in mind, regardless of age, if you are capable of reproducing, I encourage you to go forth and multiply!”

  If there was one cause the medical industry could all rally around, Romanero had just provided it. Since the disappearances, numerous patients had inquired about the possibility of having children again.

  While no one dared speculate one way or the other, after thoroughly examining tens of thousands of men and women—to see if their organs were still intact—the overall consensus coming from OB/GYNs and other reproductive specialists, was that everything seemed perfectly fine.

  Even the reproductive organs of those who’d lost their babies at the time of the disappearances appeared to be in full working order. Even so, until they were 100 percent certain, no one dared put their reputation on the line by voicing an opinion, one way or the other.

  Now that Salvador Romanero had done just that, it was time to run full steam ahead and use their skills to help repopulate the Earth.

  Perhaps this promise of a bright future would serve to quell the ongoing suicide problem among teenagers—dwindling as it was—once and for all, by giving them an even greater sense of purpose.

  Suddenly there was much to look forward to again. Salvador Romanero quickly became the main authority figure in the lives of millions of youngsters from all nations, tongues and religions.

  Surely this Miracle Maker was sent of God...Perhaps he was God.

  Many were starting to think just that.

  One thing Salvador Romanero didn’t mention on live television, but was ever mindful of, was that Jesus wasn’t actually born on December 25th, as many had believed. If anything, the date was steeped in occultism. Advantage Romanero!

  Come next year, as children started repopulating the planet, Romanero would declare December 25th to be a day of worship for him and him alone. In short, he would become more and more as Jesus became less and less.

  Salvador Romanero licked his lips; another menacing smile covered his face. The future looked bright indeed. With the Prince of Darkness fully empowering him, it was like taking candy from a baby.

  41

  FOR DYLAN AND ROSE McCallister, having their two daughters home for Christmas was the only present they wanted this year.

  With so much snowfall—eleven inches fell in Ann Arbor—Megan had no choice but to spend the night with them. Then again, her apartment was less than three miles away; she could have easily walked the relative short distance home.

  Though her parents begged their eldest daughter to stay, it was totally unnecessary. The last thing Megan wanted was to be home alone in a major snowstorm on Christmas Eve, in this strange new world.

  Keeping with tradition, and wanting to somehow put last month’s tragedy behind him, Dylan McCallister purchased a Christmas tree like he did every Christmas Eve. It mattered not that theirs was the only house on the block to have Christmas decorations this year. It was something the man of the house felt he needed to do.

  When pressed by a curious neighbor out shoveling his walkway, Dylan said he did it for his two daughters. But, in truth, he did it just as much for he and his wife, who went along with the charade, by preparing her traditional holiday dishes like she did each year.

  Even if everything cost five times more than what Rose had paid a year ago, Dylan had insisted that it was all part of providing normalcy for the children. They did a commendable job of making it look like any other Christmas at the McCallister residence.

  They were living in denial and they both knew it...

  As for Renate, she was going through the motions of doing Christmas with her family, but as they took a break from exchanging gifts for coffee and donuts, she was anything but happy.

  For starters, Brian wasn’t with her. He was off to New York again, to spend time with his family—the second time in a month. Of course, Renate had no issue with that. This was something her boyfriend did every year.

  But he usually left a couple of days before Christmas, not on Christmas Eve. The reason he gave for waiting until the last minute was that he didn’t want to miss Christmas Eve service at his new church in Sterling Heights. It lasted nearly four hours!

  Four hours?! Renate had never heard of anything more ridiculous in her life! Brian arrived at her house two hours later than expected, even missing the decorating of the tree, unlike in past years.

  Even worse, in the brief time they spent together, the man she loved seemed distant and fidgety, like there were a million other places he would rather be than with her.

  When Renate finally confronted him, Brian told her the roads were quite treacherous and he wanted to try and get ahead of the snowstorm that was headed due east, straight toward New York.

  “If I don’t leave soon,” he had said, “I may never get out of Michigan.”

  Under normal circumstances, Renate would have agreed with her boyfriend’s logic. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Something wasn’t right. Whereas Brian spent four hours at church with Jacquelyn Swindell, they were lucky to spend an hour together, tops.

  It was like a knife in Renate’s heart. It hurt. Bad.

  To Brian’s credit, he did invite her to attend the Christmas Eve service. She declined. Refused was more like it. Renate didn’t want to slowly lose her mind as well by joining him.

  Who spent four hours at church on Christmas Eve? It just wasn’t right.

  Four hours with Jacquelyn. That was the killer.

  Even the exchange of gifts last night came as a major disappointment to her. The one thing Renate wanted, expected, anticipated, and waited for all year, never came. Brian didn’t put a ring on her finger, like she’d dreamed about the past three Christmases.

  Even despite last month’s global tragedy, she fully expected him to pop the question last night. But it never happened. And this meant Renate didn’t wake up this morning as Brian Mulrooney’s fiancée.

  With 30 looking her square in the eye and with her idol, Salvador Romanero, boldly proclaiming that children would once again populate the Earth, her biological clock started ticking again, only much louder than before. Will Brian and I ever have children?

  Renate was somewhat cheered when Brian called earlier to wish her a Merry Christmas. He was driving east on I-80 in Pennsylvania at the time, 25 miles west of East Stroudsburg, roughly an hour from his parents’ house.

  After experiencing near whiteout conditions the first 300 miles of the trip, Brian said it got so bad that he was forced to park underneath a highway overpass to rest his weary eyes, before continuing on. He said he was nearly forced to get a hotel room in Ohio for the evening.

  Finally, when he was 50 miles east of the Pennsylvania border, the snow had dwindled down to nothing. But it was fast approaching.

  Before ending the call, Brian apologized to Renate for being so distant of late. Renate accepted his apology, especially after he told her he still loved her.

  What he didn’t say was while he still loved her, he feared the constant friction between them wouldn’t improve all that much as time marched on. While Renate believed their differences were minor and could be smoothed over in time, Brian knew they were anything but minor.

  They were spiritual issues; they were eternal issues.

  In short, they were going in totally different directions in life.

  Even if Renate believed he was going through a temporary religious phase, that simply wasn’t the case. Brian wasn’t being brainwashed by a dangerous cult leader. Nor had he lost his mind. Far from it. He was never more sure of himself than he was right now, even despite the chaos.

  And this meant the only chance they had of making it as a couple was if Renate became a believer herself. There wasn’t a chance Brian would turn back now, spiritually speaking.

  But Renate wasn’t totally ignorant of the situation. She, too, had an inner-foreboding that things were steadily going downhill in their relationship and may never be salvaged.

 

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