The Internet was full of conspiracy theories and crackpot claims, saying the aliens had finally come, or that the earth had finally experienced the “invasion of the body snatchers.” Some insisted it was all a freak act of spontaneous combustion. Others insisted it was all somehow a convergence of global warming and static electricity. But none of that rang true to Galishnikov.
To the contrary, the more he read articles and books online by evangelical Christians and messianic Jews who had been predicting the coming “Rapture” of the Church for years, the more convinced he was that they had just lived through one of the most dramatic moments in Bible prophecy. That meant, of course, that one day — perhaps sooner than they realized — they would have the incredible joy and privilege of seeing Eli’s face again in heaven. They would get to walk the streets of gold with Jon and Erin and Natasha Barak and so many other dear ones. And yet such thoughts both comforted and terrified him at the same time, for they also meant that new evils were rising more horrifying than any that had come before.
Then just before six o’clock on the morning of the ninth day, the unlisted phone they kept in their home office began to ring. Galishnikov looked up from his laptop where he had spent the night studying Revelation chapter six and the coming of the “four horsemen of the apocalypse.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and glanced at the caller ID. A shot of adrenaline suddenly coursed through his body. He picked up immediately.
“Hello?” he said, his voice raspy with fatigue.
“Is this Dmitri Galishnikov?” said a young woman who sounded nearly as tired as he.
“Yes, I am Dmitri.”
“Very well, please hold for Prime Minister Doron.”
Galishnikov held his breath. Why was he calling? What could this mean?
Katya suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.
“Coffee?” she whispered.
Startled, Galishnikov nodded and gratefully squeezed her hand, and then Doron was on the line.
“Dmitri, is that you?” came the familiar voice of his old friend.
“Yes, David, it’s me,” he replied, too close to the prime minister for formalities, especially now. “How are you holding up?”
“Off the record?” Doron asked.
“Of course,” Galishnikov said.
“Then I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t scared,” Doron conceded. “All of our allies are gone, Dmitri. All of them. And I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t understand,” Galishnikov said. “What do you mean all of our allies are gone?”
“I mean Mossad estimates thirty-nine world leaders are missing — and all from countries that are our closest friends,” Doron explained. “It’s not just the president of the United States. It’s the prime ministers of Great Britain, Canada, Australia. It’s the president of South Korea and South Africa and dozens more like them all over the world.”
Galishnikov felt as if someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He had been tracking such events around the world, but he had been thinking about them in personal terms, about friends and colleagues missing in each of those capitals, and in spiritual terms, about how everything that was happening fit into the trajectory of prophetic events the Bible described. He had not, however, been thinking in geopolitical terms about the big picture, much less in terms of how all these things would affect his own country. But Doron was right. The Israeli leader had just gone from seeing all of his major, immediate enemies consumed by fire — and thus feeling powerful, prosperous, nearly invincible — to seeing all of his major allies vanish into thin air. And the sense of despair in Doron’s voice was palpable.
“My God,” Galishnikov said finally as the reality of it all suddenly sank in anew and he wished once again Jon and Eli were around to teach him all he needed to know. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“That’s very kind, Dmitri,” Doron said warmly. “And that, I confess, is why I’m calling. I’d like you to fly to Rome with me tomorrow, and then to Babylon a few days after that. Katya can come too, if you’d like to stick together.”
“I’m sure we would,” Galishnikov said, “but why Rome and Babylon?”
“Salvador Lucente has called for an emergency summit,” Doron explained. “He’s gathering every world leader who’s left to discuss how to respond to the crisis.”
“What exactly are you hearing, David?” Galishnikov pressed.
“It’s absolute chaos out there, Dmitri,” Doron confessed. “Avi Zadok has been talking to his sources around the clock, and he’s telling me his initial estimate puts the number of missing people worldwide at north of one billion.”
Galishnikov gasped. It didn’t seem possible.
“Tens of thousands more have died from the chaos created by the disappearances,” Doron continued. “And that, of course, is all on top of the fact that four American cities have been wiped off the face of the earth. Manhattan is gone, along with the New York Stock Exchange and NASDAQ. Washington is a smoldering wreckage, along with the White House, Capitol, and U.S. Treasury. The dollar has lost all value. The yen has collapsed. Only the euro is holding, and that’s largely because Europe seems to have come through all this pretty much unscathed. I’m not sure how, but they just don’t seem to have lost as many people as other regions have. Meanwhile, gold and oil and food prices are soaring. But I don’t have to tell you that. The point is, the world is suddenly very unstable and Israel, I’m afraid, is suddenly very vulnerable. Lucente’s suggesting we go from Rome to Babylon and have some time alone with Al-Hassani. He wants us to hammer out some kind of fast regional peace treaty — even a temporary one, something that might last five or ten years, or so. He’s hoping meeting together we might be able to join forces to get more oil flowing to the world and try to help rebuild the international financial markets. To be honest, Dmitri, given all that’s happening, I’m inclined to say yes, and to that end, I’d be deeply grateful for your help.”
Galishnikov was suddenly seized with a fear that he had never experienced before. Not in Russia. Not during his time in the Israeli army. Not during all his years in business. Based on his own study of the prophecies, and what he had been reading on Eli’s weblog, Galishnikov could suddenly so clearly see what was coming at him like a freight train. Yet there was nothing he could do to stop it, and that thought terrified him even more. Lucente and Al-Hassani were about to persuade Doron to sign a “covenant with the many,” just as the prophet Daniel had foretold. The Third Temple was on the verge of being completed. The daily sacrifices were about to begin. Babylon had risen like a phoenix from the ashes. And the church was gone. He and Katya had missed the boat, as it were. They were rushing headlong into what the Scriptures called “the Great Tribulation,” which meant the worst was yet to come.
“Give me a few hours, David,” he said softly. “I’d like to talk with Katya and I’ll get back to you.”
“Very well,” Doron replied. “But don’t wait too long. I need you, my friend. I’m counting on you.”
Galishnikov thanked the prime minister and gently hung up the phone.
“What is it?” asked Katya, coming back into the room with two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Galishnikov could barely breathe, barely think, barely speak. He looked deeply into his wife’s eyes and tears suddenly welled up in his own. He had always loved this woman, but now more than ever. From the day they had met as freshmen at Moscow State University, he had always wanted her, always needed her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. He could never have survived this long much less succeeded this much in life without her at his side. Nor would he have ever wanted to.