Chapter 1: Insanity

The Bible can be difficult at best to understand, and when you finally do, it can scare the literal hell out of you. Billed as "the inspired Word of God," one must then ask why, in 325 the Council of Nicaea made up of people appointed by Emperor Constantine who would in a word edit the scriptures. Yes, a staff of editors decided what part of God's Word was fit to read, chose the new holy days, and proclaimed that the Son of God was God in the flesh.

Turned off by so much hypocrisy in the pulpit during his adolescent years, Allen Cade avoided any form of organized religion. There was simply too much blood running through the service, and the collection plate, sometimes more than once in the same service, followed it. By no means an atheist, Allen found his own relationship with The Creator in the outdoors.

Later in life, he found a non-denominational church in rural East Texas that suited him, and merged with the congregation. That was not to say that he totally accepted religion. It caused him to look deeper at the written Word, and through research on the internet, the puzzle came together for him. He realized that the end times are upon us, and we are facing tribulation.

He also saw the United States as Babylon the Great of Revelation, a center of world trade that sat upon many waters. This opposed the view of those who believed it was Rome. When the signs began to appear, he felt the need to leave the country. The problem was where to go, and what to do when he got there.

After extensive research, he chose Chile, and made plans to emigrate there. Chile was now a democratic republic, unashamedly Christian, and unlike the US, had a thriving economy. The southern part of the country, called Patagonia, was home to many glacier-fed rivers. These in turn held spawning populations of trout and salmon. Fishing for these species became Allen's desired recreation after his experiences in Alaska.

His older brother John had bought a failed fishing lodge in Alaska, and made his home there. It was there that for a week away from a stressful situation, Allen immersed himself into the fabulous fishing. He always considered Alaskans to be independent, and hoped they would break away from the increasingly socialist USA.

Then, the week after his visit in late August 2005, John and his family perished in the crash of his amphibious Cessna 180. While Allen had that to deal with, his wife Glenda left him for a plastic surgeon in Tyler. Being the surviving next of kin, per John's will Allen inherited his home in Alaska. However, Glenda's lover coveted the prospect of owning a remote property on a salmon river in Alaska.

"It's part of Glenda's settlement," Nick argued, "and she's entitled to it."

God intervened, and over the winter, some squatters managed to burn it down. Instead of the lodge, they each got half the insurance settlement. An obscure federal statute denied Allen's permit application to rebuild on the site. The park service condemned the property, and absorbed it into a nearby national monument. Alaska proved to be under the oppressive government's thumb, and less independence oriented than Allen hoped.

"What is the purpose of your visit to Chile?" the Customs agent at DFW Airport asked.

"It looks like a nice place to visit," replied Allen. "It reminds me a lot of Alaska."

"Long visit," noted the agent. "You aren't returning until April?"

"I've got nothing better to do. I'm not working, so what's the rush to come home?"

"Okay, next?"

In reality, Allen never intended to come back. He had moved his savings to two offshore accounts in preparation to leaving the US. First, the economy bankrupted his employer, causing him to lose his job as a computer technician, and network specialist. One time a partner in the company, he sold to the heirs of his late friend after he collapsed with a massive heart attack.

The sons, coupled with a rotten economy caused the business to go from thriving to failing in just two years. He thanked God that he went through the old metal detectors at the airport in Tyler. He thus avoided the naked body scanners that revealed every private detail about anyone going through. It forced the citizens into obedient submission rather than provide any true measure of security.

In another hour, he would be aboard the flight that would carry him out of Babylon. It would also get him away from those trying to get him declared mentally unfit for his views on the imminent end times. That was what caused the rift in his family.

Finding a seat, he looked around at the others. A Boeing 767 arrived at the gate not long before. The ground crews refueled, and loaded it for the non-stop flight to Santiago, Chile. To his right he saw a small, dark-haired, brown-eyed woman in her late 30's, with a blue-flowered silk headscarf walk into the waiting area. She sat in the chair opposite him, smiled, and then took out a Spanish language magazine.

Allen noticed she wore no wedding ring, and returned to reading his book, a novel about the end time prophecies that had already come true. He tried to conceal it so the cover was not so obvious. People treated those who study Biblical prophecies with disdain, and as kooks.

"Dad," his son Brian taunted him, "It was on one of the educational channels last week. There is no god; only aliens who seeded this planet to come back one day to harvest us."

His daughter treated him with the same disrespect, no doubt influenced by his strained marriage. When he tried to correct them, Glenda always intervened. Now, they despised him.

That was when they still spoke to him. The kids became distant since he had her arrested after she tried to kill him when he would not divorce her. The shot charge from the 20-gauge had missed his head by two inches, but ruptured his left eardrum. Their daughter, Amy lied for her, and told the cops it was accidental. The DA dismissed it as such.

"All you had to do was give her the divorce," reasoned Amy. "She's been having an affair the last six months; it's over. I don't think I'd stick around if I were you."

"Is that a threat?" asked Allen.

"No, I'm just saying, I don't really want her to kill you; she tried once."

"She got away with it, thanks to you."

"I can't help it if you went off the deep end with all your antichrist, end times theories," Amy countered. "You scare me sometimes with all that prophecy stuff. We could report you to Homeland Security as a domestic terrorist, or have you committed. We won't, as long as you leave, and don't come back."

"Amy, you should be scared. There's a way out, and salvation if only you'd accept it."

"Dad, stop," countered Amy. "Just go, please? I'm sorry it turned out this way, but you've got nothing left here. Mom and Nick are happy now, and Jesus isn't coming imminently, so sign the papers on the house, and go somewhere you won't be miserable."

"Amy, I don't want to see you and Brian end up like her, rejecting The LORD. I've tried to make you see the truth, but you dismiss me like I'm crazy."

"Insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. Brian has threatened to report you for being a threat to the government. I don't want that, so please, go?"

Thus, eight years after the divorce, Allen Cade began the journey that brought him to his present situation. The Aereo Chile gate attendant announced they were about to board. Allen put his reading a way, and gathered his carry-on luggage to go.

A rude passenger rushed past, knocking the woman across from him over her carry-on, and to the floor. The sandy-haired, goateed man paused long enough to drag his rolling suitcase over her leg, and rushed to the gate. He shot Allen a look of superiority, and then was gone.

"Let me help you," Allen offered. "Are you okay? Um, Esta herido?"

She nodded, and then offered her hand so he could help her up. "I speak English, and I think I am fine, gracias."

Allen helped her up, and let her ahead of him in line. She was small; perhaps five three, and if she weighed 110 pounds wet, he would be surprised. She had an accent, which confirmed that she was returning to Chile, rather than going. The woman's light, fresh scent intrigued him, as did her cute figure from behind. He turned to see the man who knocked her down vanish down the jet way.

Unlike domestic flights where you showed ID at every stop, the attendant merely checked his seat, and flight number. He followed the lady down the jet way, and aboard the plane. Then, she stopped beside his row. The Chilean woman struggled to lift her bag into the overhead, and almost lost it. Allen caught it, and stowed it for her.

"Gracias, again," she offered, and checked her seat. "I am in 22B, right here."

"I'm by the window," Allen noted, and stashed his carry-on beside hers. He then took his seat, buckled up, and placed his book into the pocket below the tray. The ground crew hurried about their business outside. Clouds had moved in since he had arrived at DFW almost two hours earlier, on the next to last commuter flight. It was now dark outside.