A Thousand Years of Peace! Book 2
Chapter 18: The last Battle for Omak!

Copyright© 2016 by A Carpenter's Son

When the World Trade Complex was destroyed on September 11, 2001, we were told of two planes that destroyed three buildings by 18 men from Saudi Arabia and one Egyptian. A friend of John’s told him his brother had been in Afghanistan from early in 2000. A year and a half before 911. John wondered if we would attack Venezuela and Peru if 18 Mexicans and one Cuban attacked something in the United States.

911 did not make sense shortly after it happened. Seventeen years later it still did not make sense to him. Finding the Gold, diamonds and barrier bonds in Denver from the World Trade Center’s private bank sure made it appear to be a bank robbery. It had also confirmed some of the rumors John had heard and read. The Russians had stopped the heroin production from Afghanistan in the 1990’s. Since 2002 the amount of heroin on the streets of the world cities has skyrocketed. John heard just before the earth changes that heroin was cheaper than marijuana in New York City.

Afghanistan was producing 85% of the world’s heron again until Russia put a stop to it. The Taliban had been made the bad guys. Part of the modus operandi of building an empire. We always had a bad guy. We saw staged unidentifiable men with black masks cut the heads off identifiable Americans. The vids were as good as any Hollywood Movie. Most Americans accepted that as truth, not the fantasy that it truly was. When a head is cut off, blood pressure will send a quarter inch column of blood three to four feet into the air. The videos had no blood. They were fantasy designed to make Americans Fearful of ISIS. The current bad guy. When the government had run out of bad guys, they created ISIS.

John and the family had gone to God on Sunday after dinner. He heard from God that an attack was coming to Omak.

God said, “It was from one of the three bases left of the NSA. The weapon that was used was the same Ray Gun used in the destruction of the World Trade Buildings.”

“How does the Ray Gun function?” John asked.

“It works much like your microwave oven.” God answered, “On what you call radio waves.”

“That’s why some of the men that jumped from the twin towers took their shirts and pants off. They were wet from the sprinklers and the Ray Gun was boiling them alive.”

“That is correct!” God answered.

John was thinking of a way to shield everybody. He kept getting a vision of the glass door on the microwave.

“Father why were the buildings destroyed?” John asked.

“The engineers told the designers, for the buildings to be that tall, the weight had to be reduced significantly. They put slag (Impurities skimmed off during the production of steel.) in the concrete mix, reducing the weight by 40%, but made the concrete 30% stronger. Because of the 30% increase in strength, they were able to reduce the thickness of the floors by that 30%. Shortly after the first anniversary, the floors started breaking down. By the tenth anniversary, 25% of the floors were no longer useful. Upon 911 the amount was into the 60% range of lost space in the three buildings. The proof is buried in the Title Report when it was sold the previous year.” God answered.

“Wow, thank you, Father!” John replied.

When they got home, “Daddy why does the wave oven have that pretty pattern on the door?” Teri asked.

“That’s it.” John told Teri, “It stops the waves from coming out through the door. It makes you safer.”

They had a week.

Everyone was very busy.

A few days before Christmas everyone but a few hid. Ben and Sally Taylor and Steven Nation led their fellow students in an outside exercise. The students had been handpicked for this mission. All the Fisher kids were there. John and Jenny along with friends and family were at Sous. The ceiling and walls were covered with a metal pattern that many had seen before. The underside of the Big President’s Table was also covered in this same pattern. John knew when the buzzing stopped that Mary and Sam were overhead taking out the Helicopters responsible for this atrocity. There were many new piles of identifying flying objects on the ground appearing to be piles of garbage, ready to be taken to the recycling plants. John and Jenny had dozens of the younger children of the town’s people with them under the table. Every table in Sou’s had been covered on the underside with the metal pattern providing a second level of protection. Even so, John could feel the vibration much like when he stood in front of the microwave at home when it was operating.

John’s phone did the melody signifying family, “Hello?”

The battalion that was shooting the kids at the school as they made their way through Omak were dropping, as the rounds were returned at many times muzzle velocity. Tony and Willa were bringing up a small group of twenty behind the battalion and with a message sent to Ben, the students facing the Battalion disappeared as they transported the Battalion to the west side of the sun.

Brad looked at Tony and Willa, “What’s next boss?”

“We need to make sure that all of the helicopter personnel are also with God,” Willa responded.

Brad looked at Tony, recognizing what he was doing. Tony winked at him and the two split up the group and transported to the two closest downed helicopters. Tony called his dad, “We are in Phase Three.”

“10-4” Is all that John said over the phone. He turned to Jenny, “Time for us to go to work.”

“I didn’t have time to tell you, we now have 748 men and women ready to search the entire county for anybody hurt or hurting.” John was helping Jenny crawl out from under the table.

“How’s Bert?” John asked.

Jenny felt her tummy, “He’s kicking up a storm. I’m glad I’m not trying to sleep.” Jenny giggled.

“Going to find out who’s in charge,” John said

“Me too dad.” Willy had his arm wrapped around John’s leg.

“Daddy, I need to be there too,” Lucy reported hanging onto John’s other leg.

John looked at his smartphone. He had gotten several messages today. One of those messages came from Sam. He was riding as Mary’s Co-pilot on the good ship Lily. They were cloaked and had followed another helicopter to the airport, watching it land, Sam had sent John the GPS Coordinates. “Let’s go, kids, on three. One, two, THREE!” The transport happened.

John had bent down to take a hand of each of the kids. They were about fifty feet from where the helicopter was. Two men were standing outside of the blade wash talking. John and the kids walked up to them.

The men turned to them and one of them asked, “Who the hell are you? And where did you come from?”

While in Mexico, over dinner several of them happen to talk about the most painful event they had ever had happen to them. John was part of that family meeting. Poncho described his experience when he had been shot in the shoulder. Everyone agreed that had to be the most painful. So, when John told the man who he was, then demanded to know who the man was, all he got in return was a small caliber bullet sent his way. John didn’t want to kill the man, then he remembered the painful shoulder. The second man also fired at John and John wanted to know where that man, who was in military clothing, was based at. He just wanted to talk to these two then take them to God. So, he returned the bullets to their shoulder joints on each of the two men.

John was tired of the blade wash, he reached up and with his TK ability, he squeezed the fuel line closed. The engine on the helicopter coughed and sputtered several times then came to a stop. The pilot pulled his sidearm and fired at John. The bullet was returned and entered the man’s chest. He fell out of the helicopter and did not move. John didn’t want to talk with him.

“How are you doing this?” The man asked holding his dangling arm.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is who are you?” John demanded.

“I own you! I claim the right to be the Emperor of this continent.” The man said, “You and your children are all going to die. I descend from the Royal families of Europe.”

“Big deal, so do I. King James Stewart was my 11th Great Grand Father on my mother’s side and Charlemagne and Hildegarde are my 34th Great Grandparents on my Dad’s.

Two of John’s Marine guard showed up. “Find out from that man where his base is. How many people are still there and why are they working for this man.” John directed the two Marines, “When you have all or some of that information, pass it on to one of my son’s. I would appreciate if you then went with them and helped clean out the cesspool.”

“Aye, Aye, Sir!”

John bent down, so he could ask, “Are you two, ready?”

“Yes, daddy.” Both Willy and Luci said. Willy added, “Good job daddy!”

“Thank you, son.” John could hear in his mind the man screaming from the pain. His address was easily assessable from his weakened state. “On three. One, two, THREE!” The transport happened. They ended up in the man’s favorite place. It was not a “Man Cave”, but certainly a place where people could relax and entertain. Perhaps watch one of his sports teams on his enormously big screen TV. The room had very comfortable seating for twenty or more. The man collapsed into what appeared to be his favorite chair.

John saw a young boy peak into the room then run away. Robert Roth was the name John was hearing. This room probably was worth as much as the average American’s house. Off to the left was a gold inlaid mirror behind the well-stocked bar. The shades on the windows were remote controlled. Not what you can find on the internet, but the good ones. Carpet into the hundreds of dollars per square foot. There now were many drops of blood soaking into it from Robert Roth. The young boy was back. John did not pay any attention to him. John saw out of the corner of his eye as the little boy went flying. John turned his head; the little boy was stuck to the wall with his feet about 2’ off the floor and his toy bat went bouncing across the granite tile in the great entryway. Willy was rubbing his hands together like he was knocking off the dust.

The man pressed one of the many buttons on his custom-built Lazy Boy recliner. It was almost funny, it sounded like a herd of buffalos coming up the stairs. They must have been athletes because they moved with grace and speed. There was six of them and they were all around 300 pounds and were 6’2”, 6’4”, and 6’6” tall. No fat, all muscles. One of them grabbed Luci.

“Luci, can you form your shield behind you?” John asked quietly.

“Okay, daddy!” Luci said.

The man SCREAMED louder than anyone John had ever heard. Portions of both arms had been sliced off, including part of the man’s face. Luci dropped to the floor. She saw in time another man aims his gun at her. The man off to the right fired what must be a 10-gauge shotgun at Luci. She sent it back. He fell to the floor in considerable pain. His white tee-shirt was turning red with blood, peppered with little holes.

John mumbled, “My little girl has grown up.” John had wondered if Luci truly earned the black lanyard. That question had just been answered in spades.

Willy glanced at his dad. The slight nod John gave him was enough. Willy took a stance that he had learned in his Karate Class. He let loose with a yell then slammed a large shield into the four big men still standing against the far wall taking out the bulletproof windows, frames, supporting woodwork and header. In the middle of the new opening, the ceiling sagged about a foot.

A young lady came down the big million-dollar grand stairway to see what all the noise was about. She stopped and looked around at everything then froze as she recognized John, “St. John, your real. Just a minute.” She turned and ran back upstairs. In two minutes, she was back. She had on her yellow lanyard, “God says I’m to get tested today for my green lanyard.”

“Who are you?” Luci asked.

“I’m Roberta, my friends call me Bobby. How did he get shot?” pointing at her father.

“He fired at me and I didn’t want him dead until I found out who he was and where he lived,” John responded.

“We were supposed to meet you today. That’s what God said.” Luci smiled at Bobby.

“Is it really possible that I can live with you?” Bobby asked, “God said I could.”

“We got to get everyone to vote, but if God says it’s so then it probably is then.” Luci smiled.

Bobby took a deep breath while staring into the eyes of her father, “That man and Billy the kid KILLED my mother. Then they buried her next to the neighbor’s DOG in the flower garden. Billy KILLED the neighbor’s dog when she came into our yard. Dad helped him bury it, then the two of them buried mom next to the DAMN DOGG.”

Robert reached across his body with his good arm to a small compartment. He opened it and pulled out a small pistol, “You little un-loyal shit!” He fired the gun at his daughter. Bobby’s shield reflected it back at her father. The man’s eyes got very big as his chin hit his chest an inch or so above the entry wound from the bullet he had just fired at his daughter.

“Thank you, God. Please take care of Mommy.” Bobby cried. The weight of the world had been lifted off. She sat down in one of the other Lazy Boy type seats holding her head with gut retching sobs.

“Luci took Bobby’s hand then she climbed into her lap, “It will be okay, we have snow and we have buffalos everywhere.” Luci was rubbing Bobby’s shoulder, “I use to be afraid of the buffalos, but not anymore. They are just like big dogs. Do you know, they like carrots just like horses?”

“We have Barket, too. He’s our dog.” Willy was there helping his new sister.

John dialed his phone and heard, “This is the 911 operator. How can we help you?”

“This is John Taylor, I am reporting several homicides. Please send help to the home of Robert Roth.”

“We know the address, the Police, and Fire Departments are on the way.” The Operator hesitated, “May I ask, are you the John Taylor who is our President?”

“That is correct,” John answered.

“Sir is there any threats in the house?”

“No threat at this time.”

“Sir, please go to the front door and open it for the officers and firemen to enter.”

“I am heading there now,” John said.

“I’ll show you,” Bobby was still crying, but running past John, heading to the front door. Luci and Willy were running after her.

“Bobby, how did you get so good at returning things?” John asked when they reached the big beautiful wood door.

“I’ve been at Mary Joe’s house for a week, we both got good at returning tennis balls,” Bobby said.

John sat on the steps of the front porch talking with Bobby, “Where are we at Bobby?”

Two police cars arrived with “TORONTO POLICE” on their doors, “Operator, the police are here now.”

“Good luck sir. It is my pleasure to talk with you, Mr. President.” The operator hung up the connection.

“We are in Toronto, St. John,” Bobby answered.

Two officers came forward, “Any threats in the house?”

“There may be a 9-year-old boy, Billy Roth is in there,” John reported.

The two policemen moved forward. Willy and Luci followed them back into the house.

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