Moments after the nuclear missile struck the White House, a silence that gave me chills fell over everyone gathered in the Mission Control room. Luckily, the deep bunker shielded us from the terrible blast, including the initial explosion and shockwave that obliterated the capital for miles around. President Raven stood with his shoulders sagging and his head drooping from the weight of the awful realization that Lucian Drago had outsmarted him at every move. I concluded that the chancellor had buttered the president up by telling him the prime minister position for the North American Province was his all along and all he had to do was step into the role like it had been his from day one. It was all a ruse. That's what I surmised. But there was probably an underlying truth to it.

The president's advisors told him they should wait to raise the communication dishes from their subterranean compartments, which had proper shielding from the electromagnetic pulse. "How long?" the president had asked. There was no clear answer. Hours. Days. Weeks. Or longer. They had no communication with the outside world without them. With impatience ruling the room, they advised that they should wait several hours at least. It had been late evening when they entered the bunker, so President Raven decided to wait twelve hours. That would make it early morning when they activated the dishes.

The vice president, speaker of the house, and their staffs had evacuated to separate bunkers to assure continuity of government if one of their positions became compromised. At first, I thought I had heard they would all be joining us in the same bunker, but keeping key leaders separate made sense. Everyone had their own sleeping quarters, even me. Somehow, one of the lower ranked personnel didn't make it in time, freeing up a room. I had hoped I could get my laptop back, but currently the female Secret Service agent had possession of it. Maybe I could wrangle it from her, somehow.

My chaperone informed me that all the private quarters were located in three separate corridors leading away from the central hub of Mission Control. A fourth corridor branched off and led to a mess hall, a maintenance bay, which I was not allowed to enter, and a smaller replica of the Oval Office. I suspected there were other rooms and hallways leading elsewhere, but I didn't have clearance. When it came time for sleep, the female agent ordered me to my quarters.

"You're not cleared to be down here," she said. "You'll have to stay under house arrest till morning. And you're only allowed on the outside under my supervision."

I frowned. "My clearance comes from the top. The president is the one who ordered me down here."

She stood at the open door with me inside the small room. "If he hadn't, you'd be dead. Maybe he has a heart."

"We're talking about the same man who has exterminated Christians throughout America."

"There's no proof of that."

"You don't know what goes on inside the so-called detention centers." I felt a fire behind my eyes but as I looked at the woman, I realized she was in the dark about the murders. "What's your name?"

"Agent Carver."

As she lingered in the doorway, I sensed she wondered why the president had saved me. "Got a first name?" I asked.

"Nope." She grinned wisely. "Good night, Mr. Abrams."

The door shut and locked with a thump. A deadbolt. I wasn't going anywhere tonight.

My quarters contained a small bed on one side and a desk-chair combo with a lamp on the other. That was it. No decorations. I switched on the lamp and cut off the overhead light, then fell back on the bed with a sigh. I had been through a ton in the last three months, and even though I was glad my wife and son didn't have to face this new world, I found in this moment that I missed them incredibly. My heart not only ached mentally but somewhere in the middle of my chest, it twisted around the center of a black hole, which was the absence of my family. It was a physical pain that wanted to pull any and everything in on itself to crush it. I felt lonely and would do anything to hold my wife or my son to soothe my soul.

A memory flooded my mind of Hannah six-months pregnant, me hanging pictures and sports decorations in the baby's room, her leaning against the doorframe with a hand on her stomach. We disagreed on which side of the room to hang the plastic Yankees hat, miniature ball bat and glove. I wanted it over the crib; she wanted it on the opposite wall. Our voices raised a touch too loud for such an inconsequential decision. When I turned to look at her to bolster my point about how much better my idea was than hers, her eyes widened, and a quirky smile spread across her face. "He kicked," she said. Our petty argument forgotten, I walked over and felt of her stomach, got a bum-bump against my palm. I found it so incredible that a new life was growing inside her womb. I kissed her passionately because of the beautiful six-month pregnant woman that she was. The Yankees decorations went on the wall opposite of the crib, just like she wanted.

The memory dissolved before my eyes. Gone. Like a vapor.

My heart fluttered as reality set in, and I came to terms with my prison quarters, the bunker, and the nuke that had destroyed the nation's capital. I didn't know what time I fell asleep but I when I did, I slept hard. When I awoke, Agent Carver was standing over me with a tray of scrambled eggs, two strips of bacon, and a piece of toast. I washed breakfast down with black coffee. Afterwards, Carver invited me to the Mission Control room to see the news that the satellites were receiving from around the world. When the twelve hours of waiting had expired, the dishes had risen from their protective housings and began receiving and emitting transmissions from the other bunkers. Following that, the president's communication techs homed in on signals broadcasted by the New World Order.

"It's so sad it had to come to this," the CEO of a Fortune 500 company based in the United Kingdom said during a BBC interview. "Our subsidiaries in Hong Kong and in Seol are taking a huge hit today. Our ships had been waiting to resume importing goods to the U.S. once sanctions were lifted by Chancellor Drago. Everyone expected the United States to join the World Order eventually."

The screen switched to another interview.

"We can't believe the U.S. president would conspire with the South American and Central American provinces to revolt against the World Order," another head of a major corporation in Tokyo said. "The U.S. was our biggest consumer. Our ships have ceased to deliver our line of luxury vehicles to American buyers. This is a travesty. But no one can argue with Chancellor Drago's decision to strike first. Such a sad day."

I stood, transfixed on the screens next to Agent Carver. "What is this?"

"After our NORAD air defense was compromised, it appears Chancellor Drago used nuclear missiles from the Russian and Chinese Provinces to pulverize our nation back to the Stone Age. Mexico and Canada weren't targeted since they're part of North America. But the Central American and South American Provinces were blasted into oblivion, especially their capital cities in Costa Rica and Brazil."

"So, all of America was hit?"

"It was a kill strike, an overwhelming barrage, launching hundreds of nuclear warheads while our defenses were down. Every major city and military base suffered catastrophic damage with heavy casualties. Even our warships at sea and under the sea were targeted and destroyed. Somehow our enemies discovered where all of our assets were and snuffed them out. The entire country is dark. No electricity. No communication. Nothing." The agent swallowed an obvious ball of anxiety. "The New World Order wanted to reduce our chances of retaliation to absolute zero. There will be survivors in rural areas, but apparently all major population centers have been wiped out. It appears they wanted to kill everyone in America. They wanted to make an example out of us."

Up near the front of the room, nearest to the wall of screens, a group of advisors and a pair of agents surrounded President Raven. The president had his back to me, and he was in deep conversation with his chief of staff.

"They're discussing what we've learned after talking to the other bunkers," Carver said.

"You can hear them from here?" I asked.

She snorted and gave me a sidelong glance. "Of course not. That's what they were doing before I came and got you. On schedule at the twelve-hour mark, they raised the dishes and aligned them with the satellite in space. Some of our dishes didn't ascend. Debris from the nuclear blast must have been lying on top of the lids. But, enough of them did raise to make communication possible. To make this possible." She gestured toward the screens and the TV broadcasts.

"I was considering the horns, and there was another horn," I said.

Carver's brow furrowed.

"A little one," I continued, "coming up among them, before whom three of the first horns were plucked out by the roots."

"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked.

"Daniel. Chapter seven, verse eight."

"Have you gone mad?"

"No. I've never been saner in my life." I blinked. "It's a Bible verse."

"You think President Raven is the antichrist? Don't you? They briefed me about the stunts you were pulling. The man behind the flyers claiming the United States was... what was it? Babylon the Great?"

"Read Revelation chapters seventeen and eighteen and tell me if there's any other city or nation that fits that profile."

"But you think the president is the antichrist?"

"No, I don't. I think he's a man hellbent on murdering Christians. That's what I know."

Agent Carver pulled me toward the back of the room, away from everyone else. "I visited your website, which could get me arrested."

"And?"

"I just thought you should know. Now, what about this antichrist you speak of?"

"I haven't made any proclamations about the identity of the antichrist. I've only identified Babylon the Great."

"Who do you think the antichrist is?" Carver asked.

"The chancellor of the New World Order, Lucian Drago. By all my estimations, he's the little horn. And he plucked up three of the ten horns in this attack on the United States, and the provinces of Central and South America."

"So, you think this attack was part of a biblical prophecy?"

I nodded. "That's what I'm saying."

"But the president isn't dead?"

"No. But he has been plucked up by the roots. He has no power base." I shrugged. "Listen and see if this makes sense. President Raven told me that Lucian Drago had declared him, the president, as the prime minister of the North American Province. The other guy from Canada was just holding his spot for him. After this attack, I would say that the president is no longer considered the prime minister of the North American Province. Figuratively, he had been given that position but now that position of power has been revoked. Sometimes there are unforeseen twists in a prophecy. And I would say, if the president showed his face in Rome, he wouldn't make it out of Europe alive."

Agent Carver folded her arms and stared through narrowed eyes at me. "I can't argue with your last statement."

I became quiet as I listened to another news broadcast from Tehran, the capital of Iran and the Middle Eastern Province. The prime minister was vocalizing his province's role in the strikes on the U.S., how some of the missiles launched had come from Iran. The coverage provided an interpreter who translated into English what was spoken. Furthermore, he mentioned that Chancellor Drago had promised that any nation or province who threatened the world's newfound era of peace with nuclear weapons would be dealt with in the strictest of measures.

"We had been aided by the Russian Province and the Province of China for some time," the prime minister of the Middle Eastern Province said, "even prior to the New World Order, in the development of a nuclear program. It is only recently that we acquired the ability to use long-range missiles, thanks to Russia and China. Of course, Chancellor Drago permitted us to use them to prevent the United States from using their nuclear arsenal on us and the rest of the world. We have for decades understood that America was poisoning the rest of the world with her ideas of capitalism and freedom of thought, to the point which anything goes, and nothing is sacred. This led the rest of the world into greed and lust and much intoxication with her wealth and luxury. The U.S. has caused all nations to be drunken with her love of money and a false concept of freedom where even the perversion of pornography is accepted. She led this spiritual assault on the rest of the world just like she was about to launch a nuclear assault on Rome. Because of this, all of the Americas have been reduced to ashes, save for Mexico and Canada who didn't take part in this rebellion led by the United States."

I turned to Agent Carver. "I wish I knew your name. I would like to share with you the rest of the gospel truth. It would be great to speak directly to you. Personally."

"I don't know." Her eyes roamed between me and the president and his entourage. "Maybe we can talk later about what you believe the Bible says about what's happening right now."

"There's something else you should know."

"What's that?"

"In Revelation chapter six, there are six seals that are opened. The first one occurred three months ago after the great disappearances when Chancellor Drago moved into the United Nations role of Secretary-General. From there, he moved quickly and restructured the world order, and because he projected himself as a humble man wanting only peace, the rest of the nations fell under his spell. That was the first seal of Revelation. The nuclear strike on the three provinces of the Americas was the opening of the second seal. It will last several months at least."

Agent Carver's gaze hardened. "So, you're saying that the Bible, God, predicted the nuclear attack?"

"Not specifically, but generally. In the last three months, I've had a lot of time to study the Bible. I already told you that the book of Daniel in the Bible prophesied that the little horn would uproot three of the other horns. Horns in scripture, represent kings who possess power or authority. I'm saying that the three horns of the Americas, their leaders have been either killed or plucked from power. Their provinces have suffered too."

"So?"

"Well," I said. "There are seven seals to be opened, and that's just the beginning. Not only that, but the second seal that was just unleashed, that of war, murder, and mayhem, has only begun."

"I want to know more about this second seal and the others that follow, maybe we can talk in the mess hall about it over lunch."

"I'm open to that."

Another news broadcast aired on the screens with Chancellor Drago addressing the world, "It saddens me to think that such an event had to take place. This could be called World War Three. But thankfully, it didn't last long, and we are heartened to know the preemptive strikes were successful and necessary to keep the dangers of radiation fallout isolated to the Americas. However, we will feel it's effects in other areas for times to come. Hard times are coming. The United States has long since been the greatest consumer of world goods for nearly a century. Her destruction, as you have seen from reports from the business sector, has created a void when it comes to wealth and purchasing power. The world economy will feel the pinch, but we will overcome. As these repercussions are felt, we will take measures to counter them."

"But there is good news," Drago continued. "In the months leading up to this as the United States turned on itself and slaughtered a certain demographic of its people, I have orchestrated a campaign to urge whoever would, to flee the country. Since Canada and Mexico went unharmed, millions of refugees had done just that. Sometimes you have to use the people you have on the ground, and sometimes you have to use whatever strategies are available to accomplish your goals. It was brought to my attention of a certain movement originating from New York City, rightfully declaring the United States as a monster of murder. President Raven is behind it all. It had to be stopped. Such cruelty can not be allowed. The fact we discovered their plot to attack Rome and the rest of the New World Order only gave us reason to strike first. Because New York City is where this campaign originated to expose the United States for who they really are, I have spared this city for the next seventy-two hours. Anyone still left in New York must find a way to escape into Canada. I can only delay New York's destruction. I can not allow President Raven to regroup there and continue his dirty deeds of bloodshed. The seventy-two-hour countdown begins now. We are using planes from the Canadian sector of the North American Province to drop leaflets over the city at this very moment to urge the remaining citizens to flee to Canada. We will provide military ground teams over the next two days to combat any remaining U.S. forces still present there to aid in the escape. After that, all World Order assets will pull out and all U.S. citizens will be on their own for the final day before New York's destruction." Drago paused and stared into the camera. "That is all. Good day."

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. New York hadn't been destroyed yet. Joe Ramirez and Gabriela Martinez were still alive, if they had managed to stay out of that detention center since I'd seen them last. It also meant Autumn, my neighbor in my apartment building was still alive.

When Drago's address ended, the president turned and glared at me. Then he whispered to a Secret Service agent next to him. That agent touched their ear and said something to someone. That caused Agent Carver to touch her ear.

"The president wants to speak to you in his office," she said. "Now."