“First of all, you must understand that in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and following their own evil desires.” They will say, “Where is this ‘coming’ he promised? Ever since our fathers died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.” 2 Peter 3: 3-4
Jeff left his home this Friday morning and headed for breakfast at The Duluth Diner, just across the street from the Burger King on Peachtree Industrial Boulevard.
There was no longer a need to frequent the Dunwoody Starbucks, as it was still a shambles from the bombing. Homeland Security testing continued. The Rexall Grill was closed for renovations.
July 4th had come and gone with no more terrorist instances in the United States, at least none known. Who knows what might be lurking in the water or food systems.
As summer edged ever closer to Labor Day, the United States and her allies had yet to devise a plan of punishment for the bombings, the destruction of London Bridge and the Eiffel Tower, and the huge leak in the Hudson River, finally contained.
The leaders of the Western countries were angry, the people were angry; but where and who would they bomb? Pakistan? Iran? Syria? Would they carpet bomb? Nuke them ‘til the sand turns to glass? Too many civilians around, and the Rules would not allow a win. Plus, nuclear would never be an option. We would have to suffer that experience first, Jeff knew. His friends knew, as well.
The Asian counterparts should have been angry, or at least angrier, considering the damage wreaked in their own countries; but they did a great deal of business with Iran and Pakistan in the forms of fuel and weapons. The Asian response was muted, as usual.
The United Nations would meet again, for further discussion. Israeli and American troops massed on the Azerbaijan border, just north of Iran; but there were no orders to act forthcoming. The troops awaited direction, hopefully. Waiting was the word du jour.
Most of the NATO countries knew of the rumors that Osama bin Laden was hiding out in the Chitral region along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, but what were they to do? With the present rules of engagement in place, it would be impossible to defeat the bad guys. There was no doubt who the bad guys were, though the soldiers were often dismayed over the continuous anti-American comments they would hear from the American and European press, the nasty blogs especially. Sometimes it seemed like the soldiers were the bad guys.
Jeff considered why Atlanta had suddenly become such a target for the jihadists and what they expected to gain by raining terror onto Atlanta’s citizens. That was troubling. Much of Atlanta was owned by the Saudis. Could that be it?
Jeff was in an unusually dour mood. While our troops targeted only militants, reducing the civilian casualties as much as possible, at the cost of increased lives sacrificed by our own young soldiers, our children, the jihadists targeted women, children, donkeys, whatever. It all meant the same to these demented soldiers of slaughter. While our troops tortured the captured jihadists, who would slit Aunt Ethel’s throat in an instant, with barking dogs and nakedness, the jihadists simply removed the heads of those they captured. As our troops contributed to new schools in Afghanistan for the young girls once denied education, the merciful jihadists poisoned them in large numbers, believing the youngsters were better dead than educated. That was the Taliban way. Girls did not need an education.
Jeff found America becoming more and more frustrating, debt out of control, support for the troops lacking by so many. It seemed that Afghanistan had suddenly become Viet Nam all over again. Years earlier, the politicians said it was another Viet Nam, but it wasn’t. We were actually winning. But by golly, they did it. Now the civilians were running the war instead of the generals, and it was sure to fail.
Maybe I’ll move to Jamaica, lease a beach house and relax, he considered. But he could never do that. There was too much military and too much good old USA in his blood, and heart.
The hole in the Hudson River was finally plugged and Manhattan was getting back to normal, almost normal. The subway system was still out of commission, so the traffic nightmare was formidable, even more so than usual. The death toll from the flooding of the subway system turned out to be far greater than anticipated, so many of the homeless lived in the sub-tunnels beneath the subway. The rescue operation found actual signs of communal living in the tunnel systems below Manhattan, rickety chairs and small school desks like the schools used to have, with a built in inkwell. He remembered Sally’s ponytail and the ink, and the trouble he got in.
Then there were the sick people. Jeff couldn’t believe that the CDC had yet to identify the mystery virus. Maybe they had. Was it Spanish Flu or not? It was time to figure it out. He knew in his own mind that the Feds had the answer to the disease but had decided to withhold the knowledge.
His mood was dim. He pulled into the Duluth Diner parking lot, admiring the American flags that adorned the diner’s front lawn. Across the street, there was a sizeable protest of some kind going on in front of Burger King, two groups shouting at each other.
The AJC newspaper stand was empty, so Jeff grabbed a USA Today, and his stomach let out a small growl in anticipation of the feta cheese omelet that would soon follow. There were more cars than usual this morning; and when he walked in the second of two front doors, he knew why. Everyone was glued to the recently installed flat screens, attention focused on the news coming from the Gulf.
“The Gulf of Mexico is a big place,” the PBS commentator continued, “the ninth largest body of water in the world, 810 miles wide. The Gulf’s greatest depth is in excess of 14,000 feet, almost three miles, and occurs in a region known as the Sigsbee Deep. It is believed by most geologists that the Gulf of Mexico formed through the collapse of the sea floor, not by a meteor. The Gulf is bordered by five states, northern Mexico and Cuba, and expands along 1680 miles of the U.S. coastline and 1394 miles of Mexican coastline along the Bay of Campeche, extending almost to Cancun. The Bay of Campeche is home to the world’s largest population of whale sharks, the largest fish known to man.
“Should the oil reach Cancun and Cozumel, a very significant portion of the Mexican economy will suffer, even more than it’s suffering now. These are two of Mexico’s largest tourist areas and contributors to the Mexican income.”
Jeff sat at a table by the window but didn’t open his USA Today. He continued, like the others, to watch the Public Broadcasting Service commentator deliver nothing but bad news, so far.
“Last year when the hurricanes hit the Gulf, especially the last, great distress came upon the U.S. coastal environment. As you can see today, many buildings and homes along the northern coast are still coated with the thick, brown, gooey crude oil that was blown ashore.”
Jeff remembered the television and youtube clips showing the windows that were broken from the gobs of goo blown inland. Car windows were shattered and metal buildings were dented from the imprints of constant bombardment of the crude.
“The rains associated with the hurricane activity of last summer and ever since, have consisted of water laced with oil, leaving a light sheen on plants, homes, vehicles and wildlife. Unfortunately, much of the fresh water sources for the wildlife community have been contaminated, resulting in the death of tens of thousands of animals so far, from shore birds to inland colonies of beaver. The oil-imbedded rainstorms occurred as far north as Memphis and St. Louis.”
Jeff thanked the waiter for his coffee and ordered the Diner Special, a Feta omelet, biscuit, grits and sliced tomato. The best $ 6.95 breakfast in town.
“Herein lies one of the many potential problems. If the Gulf of Mexico was indeed formed by the collapse of the seabed, it is at least feasible that it will collapse again as more and more oil is evacuated from the reservoirs of oil and methane under the current seabed.
“Some of last year’s hurricanes damaged several more of the deep drilling sites, as well as two shallow water rigs. The BP New Horizon well was successfully capped, but it appears to be leaking again, possibly as much as 12,000 gallons a day. Many coastal residents now refer to the Gulf as the Black Sea.
“With that said, it has been reported that Dr. Dennis Duncan at Mississippi State University, Professor of Geophysics, predicted last summer that with the depletion of oil from the reserves below the Gulf of Mexico, we could expect seabed collapse in several locations, possibly leading to a threat of tsunamis. As you know, that has already happened.
“The 5.9 earthquake that recently struck the Gulf was caused by the collapse near the Sigsbee Deep, the collapse estimated at six to ten feet. This vertical displacement of the seabed caused the set of tsunamis that struck the Gulf coast and carried crude oil inland, in some cases as far as two-thousand feet. Many accidents resulted from the oil-coated highways in Mississippi and Alabama.”
Jeff recalled that the first news bulletins said that the earthquake was a 6.9 but later data indicated only 5.9, still a strong jolt. Never believe initial news reports, he reminded himself. They’re always wrong.
“There are approximately 3,500 oil wells located in the Gulf of Mexico. As of this moment, after the earthquake, almost 200 are now leaking oil into the Gulf. Tampa’s new water desalinization plant has shut down as the oil moves further eastward; and the famed oyster beds of Apalachicola, Florida, have been utterly destroyed, as has St. George Island. With an elevation of only three feet, St. George Island never stood a chance against the tsunami; and now the expensive, million- dollar homes have been declared uninhabitable.
“At this time, Chevron and Shell have made the devastating discovery that BP made. It is virtually impossible to stop an oil leak 5,000 feet below the water’s surface. The pressure is too great, 150 times greater than the pressure at the surface; and repair equipment fails routinely.
“Please watch tonight’s TV special on the National Geographic Channel at nine o’clock, The Shaking of the New Madrid Fault: Is the Gulf Spill Relative. We’ve seen previews; and you will not want to miss it, we promise.”
The PBS program broke for a commercial. Rather than opening the USA Today, Jeff’s thoughts drifted to tsunamis. Just a few years earlier, virtually no one knew what a tsunami was; and those who did know of the phenomenon always referred to them as tidal waves. Since the 2004 Indonesian tsunami, caused by a 120-foot vertical shift in the ocean floor, killed nearly 250,000 people in several countries, it now seemed that most everyone knew what it was. Most could even spell it. Some of the waves caused by the 9.3 quake, the world’s second strongest ever recorded, topped out at 100 feet, the height of a ten-story building, or so the reports said.
Jeff knew it could have been much worse in the Gulf of Mexico. A hundred foot wave along the Gulf coast would possibly result in the deaths of a million or more if it occurred during tourist season. Of course, there really wasn’t a tourist season anymore along the Gulf.
As the Duluth Diner cleared out, Jeff finished the feta cheese omelet; and his tummy was purring like a happy tiger, growling now subsided. Appetite satisfied but tummy still uptight. There seemed to be no good news of late. Remotely unlocking the GTR’s doors, he heard a greeting from across the parking lot. It was his good friend, Abe
“Hey man, what are you doing way over here in Duluth?” Jeff had never seen Abe in Duluth and knew that he usually hung around Dunwoody or Buckhead.
“Supposed to meet Pam here, uhhh, about five minutes ago.
Gotta hurry.”
“Don’t rush. She’s not here yet, at least I didn’t see her.” “She’s here, ‘cause there’s her car.” Abe pointed to the yellow, VW convertible Beetle, parked in the Rite Aid parking lot next door.
“Are you going to be at Park Place this afternoon? I’ll stop by about four if you are. I want my Cliffsnotes Bible lesson.”
“Sure, are you serious? Did you get a Bible? An NIV?”
“Yep, I’m more curious than serious. I don’t have an NIV but have a Gideon. Will that work?”
Abe thought a moment, then said, “If the Gideon is an NIV, it’ll work. If it’s not, you need to run by Barnes & Noble and get one. As a matter of fact, give me a pen. I want to give you a few other books you can pick up.”
Jeff searched through the very-full console and quickly found a pen. “Don’t load me up with stuff man, I stay pretty busy you know.”
“Busy? You must be kidding. I’ve never seen you busy, you’re always in shorts.”
“You can be busy and wear shorts!” They laughed. Abe handed the list to Jeff.
The Bible as History by Werner Keller
Jews, God and History by Max I. Dimont
O, Jerusalem! by Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre
The Satanic Bible by Anton Lavey
“You’re kidding?” That looked like a lot of reading to Jeff. “The Satanic Bible?”
“Jeff, if you’re serious about this, listen to me. The Satanic Bible will show you what the enemy of God has in his plan. It is good to have that knowledge. Don’t you want to know about the competition? The devil is not a myth, even though many seem to think so. Jesus said to do our homework, and this is homework.”
“Jesus said that?” Jeff smiled.
“Well, not verbatim, but close. He told us to investigate the truth and not believe everything we hear, or are told. Research.”
“So you believe in the devil, that guy with the forky little tail and horns? The little red man?” Jeff teased Abe, but Abe wasn’t teasing. “My Mom used to say he was going to get me if I didn’t clean my room. Scared me to death.”
“Mr. Ross, the devil is mentioned more than a hundred times in the Bible, so my money says he exists. Get the books. We’ll talk at four. By the way, his name is Lucifer.”
“What? Whose name is Lucifer?” Jeff asked. “Look it up in your new Bible.”
“Hey, by the way, why are you meeting Pam?” Jeff’s curiosity just now getting the better of him.
“Don’t know. She just asked me to meet her, so here I am. I hope she isn’t going to fire me.” That thought had crossed Abe’s mind, but surely she wouldn’t bring him all the way out to Duluth to lower the boom.
Jeff eased the GTR onto Peachtree Industrial. Heading north he saw the convoy of National Guardsmen on the other side of PIB, making their way into Atlanta. The protesters were still going at it, so Jeff pulled a quick U-turn. He would follow the action for a few miles.
One group of protesters held signs saying The End is Near, and the other group held signs stating God is Dead. The God is Dead sign stirred Jeff’s memory. He recalled the Time Magazine article in his home safe from years before, April 8, 1966? He had been startled by that issue, the front cover asking the same question, Is God Dead? He still had the issue at home in his safe, bought as a novelty. Now as he looked back, it was clear to him that the late 1960’s had truly changed things in America, not necessarily for the good. It just seemed good at the time.
Traffic slowed to a near halt behind the National Guard convoy, and Jeff was sure he heard gunfire.