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Tribulation: An Apocalyptic End-Times Thriller (Kingdom of Darkness Book 1) Read online




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  Technical information in the book is included to convey realism. The author shall not have liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused, or allegedly caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  All of the characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Goodwin America Corp.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote short passages in a review.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  All glory, honor, and praise to the King, my Savior, Jesus Christ.

  I would like to thank my Editor-in-Chief Catherine Goodwin, as well as the rest of my fantastic editing team, Stacey Glemboski, Sherrill Hesler, and Claudine Allison.

  FOREWORD

  Kingdom of Darkness is a follow-on series to my previous saga, The Beginning of Sorrows. It is written to be a stand-alone story, meaning it’s not necessary to read the previous books to enjoy Kingdom of Darkness. However, if you do read the prequels, you’ll glean a much richer understanding of Mackenzie Thompson’s and Emilio Vega’s characters as well as the times and circumstances of the world in which they live.

  The timing of last-days events in Kingdom of Darkness does not fit perfectly into any of the pre-existing eschatological boxes. My goal is not to convince you of any particular view concerning the timing of these events, but rather to offer an entertaining read devoid of the filth and vulgarity common in modern literature. And, perhaps, to pique your interest in the Bible, that you might search for yourself to gain a better understanding of the bountiful prophecies contained therein.

  CHAPTER 1

  And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood; and the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind. And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places.

  And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: for the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?

  Revelation 6:12-17

  Emilio Vega opened his eyes. He turned his head away from the morning sun. The metallic taste of blood was in his mouth. His shoulder ached. He looked around. The back doors of the van were open, and he was outside of the vehicle, a few feet away. He tried to get up, but his hands were still restrained behind his back.

  Reality moved in slow motion. His heart beat like a hammer, but it seemed to drum at a glacial pace. His ears rang. He saw the van lying on its side. He saw the jagged edge of the crumpled front quarter panel protruding outward like a dagger. He tried to inch himself over to the shard of metal but toppled over from disorientation. Blood was running into his left eye. He could do nothing to clear it—not until he got to the sharp break in the fender. He pushed himself up to his knees with his forehead on the crackled and uneven asphalt.

  Finally, he reached the front of the transport van. He turned backward and sawed at his thick plastic restraint. Gradually, his senses returned. He became mindful of the sounds and smells around him. He could hear screaming. The scent of burning rubber wafted by his nose. The rubble from the collapsed overpass only yards away was littered by cars which had been on the interstate when the earthquake struck. Some vehicles had landed right-side up. Others were sideways. Still others completely inverted.

  Emilio pressed his restraints harder against the serrated edge of the busted quarter panel. The zip tie snapped and fell away. Emilio used his shirttail to wipe the blood out of his eye. He felt a long gash just below his hairline. Still dizzy, he steadied himself with the front wheel of the prisoner transport, which was now located at the top of the vehicle. He looked into the front windshield of the van. Unity Enforcement Agent Ethan Combs and the driver were still inside. The shattered glass obscured their forms too much to be able to ascertain whether or not they were conscious. They didn’t seem to be moving.

  Emilio lifted himself to look into the driver’s side window which was broken out. The driver was slumped down toward the passenger’s side, restrained by his seatbelt from falling farther. Emilio slowly pressed the airbag out of the way to see the man’s face. His eyes were open. However, Emilio could tell that the man’s head was turned much too far to the left. His neck had been snapped by the impact, despite the airbag’s best efforts.

  Agent Combs was also either dead or unconscious. He could see the barrel of an M-4 rifle lying on the passenger’s side window, which was at the bottom of the sideways van. Emilio lowered himself into the front of the van in an attempt to retrieve the weapon. He was a wanted criminal, and he didn’t stand a chance of escape without a gun.

  The agent’s weight was pressed against the butt of the rifle. Emilio squatted down in the tight space. He tried to pry the weapon from beneath Combs. He pressed the man’s body with his knee while pulling at the gun.

  Suddenly, Combs’ hand moved. His eyes opened. Blood was trickling out of his nose. He drew a pistol from an in-the-waistband holster. Emilio grabbed Combs’ hand and wrapped his thumb around the barrel of the gun for a better grip. He pushed the muzzle away from himself. Agent Combs pulled the trigger twice. Emilio could feel the heat from the discharge. The slide snapped his thumb backward, but he held tightly with his remaining fingers. He wrestled with Combs for the pistol, turning it toward Combs’ chest.

  “No!” Agent Combs grunted, “No!”

  Emilio pressed the weapon against Combs, using the man’s body as a vice so he could free one hand to manipulate the Agent’s finger which was occupying the interior of the trigger guard.

  “No!” Combs continued to fight, but he was no match for Emilio’s strength and determination.

  Using his index and middle fingers, Emilio applied pressure to Combs’ index finger. POW! He inched the barrel closer to Combs’ heart. He pushed his trigger finger again. POW! The agent’s grip fell limp and Emilio pried the pistol from his hand. He tucked the pistol in the back of his pants then pulled the rifle from under the weight of the dead man’s mass. Before crawling out of the van, Emilio pulled a knife from Combs’ pants pocket and a flashlight from the glove compartment. He hurried to crawl out of the cauldron of death.

  When he emerged, he looked for any law enforcement vehicles that might be responding to the incident. He stood up on the side of the van to get a long-range view. The streets of Indianapolis were buckled, impassible for anything less than a monster truck. The horizon to the south once occupied by skyscrapers now contained only heaps of rubble obscured by clouds of ash, dust, and smoke. The destruction from the quake went on as far as the eye could see.

 
; Any police vehicles in the immediate area had troubles of their own. No one was in a position to come after him. Emilio lowered himself down from the van. He quickly went to check on the others. The knife was ready to liberate his wife, Nicole, and the others from their restraints. He hoped they’d survived the crash. He bent down to look into the back of the van.

  Mackenzie Thompson lay face down on the sidewall of the vehicle. The others were gone. Emilio looked around. “Nicole!” He called again, “Nicole!” He desperately probed the surrounding area. How far could they have possibly been thrown?

  He widened the search area and kept calling. “Josh! Nicole! Where are you?” No one answered, and he could locate none of their bodies. He looked back at the van. He returned to see if Mackenzie was alive.

  He checked her pulse. “Hey, wake up.” He cut away her restraints.

  She opened her eyes. She had an abrasion on her chin. She touched it and winced. She focused on Emilio. “What are you doing here?”

  “We had a wreck. It was a massive earthquake. I was thrown from the van. So were the others. I can’t locate any of them.”

  She managed to sit up. “No, I mean, why didn’t you get raptured with the rest of them?”

  He shook his head. “You don’t believe in that stuff.”

  She rubbed her head. “I didn’t believe in a lot of things. But my dad has been warning me about this for most of my life. Josh was right. Feast of Trumpets. They’re gone. And everything that’s happened so far is going to look like a picnic compared to what’s coming.”

  “Don’t say that. They’re around here. We’ll find them. You’ll see.”

  “Combs and the driver, are they dead?”

  Emilio flashed the pistol tucked under his shirt. “They are now. And it’s bad out there. No one is coming after us. Come on, help me look for the others.”

  She crawled out of the van and surveyed the damage. “They’re gone, Emilio. Jesus took them.”

  “Are you going to help me find them, or not?”

  “Nope.” Mackenzie stared out at the heap of smoldering ruins which had been downtown Indianapolis only minutes earlier. “Are there any more guns in the van?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to find my wife.”

  “It’s a lost cause.” Mackenzie hoisted herself up onto the van and down through the driver’s side window.

  Emilio resumed his search for Nicole and the others. Occasionally he looked up to see how much progress Mackenzie had made. Eventually, she emerged from the van. She was covered in blood but held a shotgun, plus several magazines. She climbed back down and brought the magazines to Emilio. “Here. These won’t do me any good. I found another pistol on the driver.” It was tucked into her jeans. She began walking.

  Emilio tucked the mags into his waistband and kept searching for Nicole. Minutes later, Mackenzie looked as if she might soon be out of earshot. “Where are you going?” he called out.

  She turned around and yelled, “To Kentucky. But first, we have to find our way around this mess.”

  Emilio stared at plumes of smoke and dust rising out of the fallen city. Deep down, he knew that Mackenzie was right. He finally believed everything Josh had tried to tell him. He wished he could go back in time, only one hour. He so wanted to call out to Jesus and repent. He desperately wished he could be with Nicole, but it was too late. Or was it? Perhaps God would still show him mercy. Sure, he’d missed the rapture—and the next three and a half years would be horrific, but maybe he didn’t have to miss Heaven altogether.

  He knelt and placed the rifle on the ground. He crossed his hands and looked to the sky with deep regret, like a boy who’d missed the school bus by only seconds. “I’m sorry, Jesus. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stubborn skeptic. But, if you’ll give me another chance, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll believe—with my whole heart.”

  At that moment, Emilio felt a weight lift from his chest. He could breathe more freely. The sorrow of missing Nicole was as sharp as ever, still cutting him to pieces inside. However, he had hope. Whatever the Great Tribulation had in store for him, he would endure it, for he would have the power of the Messiah to bring him through. Emilio whispered a sentence to himself, which he recalled from one of Josh’s Bible studies, “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

  “Are you coming?” Her voice was distant, almost drowned out by the sounds of screaming, car alarms, and horns of wrecked automobiles.

  Emilio looked up to see Mackenzie far ahead of him. He examined the chaos all around once more. He nodded and began walking after her. He navigated around the debris of the collapsed overpass. Huge sections of concrete lay scattered about like a child’s blocks that had been kicked in a tantrum. Other chunks of the overpass dangled precariously from the exposed rebar protruding out of the remaining supports.

  Emilio looked into the cars which had fallen from the crumbled structure. He saw no survivors. He cringed with each vehicle he passed. He worried that he would have to pull from the wreckage some poor mangled soul with no chance of living.

  He saw that Mackenzie was walking fast, not bothering to check for people who might need help. “Hold on!” He picked up his pace until he caught up to her. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to follow the ruins of the interstate unless you have a better idea.”

  “I-65 takes us straight to Kentucky. But I think we’ll have fewer obstacles if we cut over one block.” Emilio pointed south. “11th Street runs parallel to 65, at least until it converges with I-70.”

  Mackenzie held the shotgun low. “Yeah, okay.”

  Emilio took the next avenue over to 11th. “We’re going to need uniforms if we plan on making it all the way to Kentucky with these long guns. Keep your eyes open for a wrecked peacekeeper vehicle.”

  Mackenzie surveilled the area. “We better keep our eyes open for peacekeeper vehicles that aren’t wrecked also.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been through enough today,” said Emilio. “I’m not interested in getting those uniforms the hard way.”

  She added, “Although, once we get outside of the city, uniforms could make us targets for any militia groups looking to take advantage of the situation.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” Emilio paused and looked back toward the wrecked van.

  “What are you thinking?” Mackenzie asked.

  “That I should have taken the wallet badge from Agent Combs.”

  “The ID will still have his picture.”

  “Most people aren’t going to look past the badge,” said Emilio. “Come on. We should go get it.”

  The van was still in view and it took only a few minutes to go back. Since Mackenzie was smaller and could operate more efficiently in the tight space, Emilio helped her up and into the van.

  “This is so gross, crawling over dead bodies,” she complained.

  “But it could save our lives,” Emilio said.

  “That’s why I’m doing it.” She soon emerged with the black wallet containing Ethan Combs’ badge and ID.

  Emilio held out his hand for the badge which Mackenzie gave him. He pulled out the chain and hung it around his neck. “Take the badge off of the driver. We’ll rig up something for you to wear it on your neck.”

  She did as directed and soon climbed back out of the van. “We’re going to need food and water. We’ve got a long hike.”

  “Did you see anything to eat or drink in the van?” Emilio helped her down.

  “No. But we have to keep watch for any available opportunities.”

  Emilio handed her the shotgun and set out once more for 11th Street. “You’ve come a long way from the Berkeley professor that I used to know.”

  “Being locked up in prison will do that for you.” She kept pace with Emilio as they navigated the cracked and broken streets.

  A violent explosion shook the ground. Mackenzie squatted down into a ball and covered her head with her hands. Emilio ducked low, also shielding his face with his free h
and. He looked to the south where a humongous fireball billowed toward the sky.

  Mackenzie slowly lifted her eyes and turned to the direction in which Emilio was facing. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know, but my guess is that a ruptured gas line just found a spark.”

  She picked her shotgun up from the ground and stood. “Do you think it could happen again?”

  “Yeah.” Emilio resumed walking eastbound. “We’re essentially in a mine field right now. The main plant could shut off service altogether, but that’s assuming the control facility is still functional.”

  The two of them continued their path along 11th Street. People lined the sidewalks talking to their neighbors. Many were injured. All seemed to be in a state of shock as they stared at their wasted domiciles. One side of the street was lined with older houses, two-story brick rowhomes built in the fifties. The other side of the street featured modern loft-style, three-story units. All of the newer structures had at least one story which was completely collapsed. They had fewer residents standing on the street than the older homes.

  Emilio’s suspicions as to why the north side of the street was more sparsely occupied were soon confirmed. A thin man in his late twenties came running up to Emilio and Mackenzie. “Officer! Please, you have to help me!” He pointed at one of the collapsed townhomes. “My partner is trapped inside!”

  Emilio swallowed hard, wishing he could help. But he didn’t have the tools and he could not take a chance on being questioned by legitimate law enforcement. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you right now.”

  The man grabbed his arm. “Why? Why can’t you help?”

  Mackenzie leveled the shotgun at the man’s head. “Step away or I’ll blow your brains out!”

  The man released Emilio’s arm. “I don’t understand? Why won’t you help?”