Light of the Last Read online

  “You must find the one I missed.”

  Validus stayed still and silent for a long while, honoring his great commander. He had never dreamed that his search would bring him back to this camp of death and horror.

  He looked up and saw where the gas chambers once stood. He walked to the place where Yortan had bled and dissolved away on the roof of one of the gas chambers. Although the prisoner revolt that occurred during Danick’s attack on the death camp resulted in over half of the prisoners escaping, no prisoner had ever survived Lager III, the camp where the prisoners were gassed. Validus knelt down and touched the ground that cried out against the horror it was used for.

  “Is it possible, little Anna? Is it possible?”

  Persimus set down next to Validus, and he stood to greet him.

  “Liesl’s birth certificate,” Persimus said, handing it to Validus.

  Validus examined every detail. It seemed legitimate. “I guess I was wrong.” He let the paper fall and dissolve away, back to the forgotten file in some German hospital.

  “But here also is her death certificate,” Persimus said.

  “What?”

  “Liesl Kraus died two days later. Whoever Kathryn’s mother was, she wasn’t Liesl Kraus.”

  Validus smiled, unable to contain the explosion of energy coursing through his veins. He grabbed Persimus’s shoulders. “Her name was Anna Wiesenthal. Somehow, some way, Elohim saved her!” Validus looked up to heaven. “You didn’t miss anyone, General Danick. You were right all along. Drew Carter is not only the last to be saved, he’s the last of the lineage of Simeon, the prophet who proclaimed to the world the arrival of the Messiah!”

  Frederick Kraus thought he was serving his country as a patriot when he was swept up into the Schutzstaffel, or the SS, Adolf Hitler’s elite and powerful protection squadron. Once in, there was no getting out, and over the course of time, Frederick found himself a prisoner of the Third Reich.

  Now he was being punished and tormented by God for his crimes. Crimes too unthinkable to speak, and yet he lived them every day…and every night. His brief, fitful episodes of sleep were filled with the faces of men, women, and children from the Sobibór death camp. Worst of all was that he was a coward—too afraid of the other SS soldiers to try to stop the heinous treatment of prisoners, too afraid to run, and too afraid to take his own life. It was a miserable existence of fear, death, and nightmares. But what could one man do against an army of evil?

  When his wife, Klara, became pregnant, he had hoped that their bringing life into the world would ease his torment, but their little Liesl was taken from them two days after she was born. Klara didn’t know the horrors Frederick was a part of at the death camp, so the death of baby Liesl was all the more his punishment to bear as he watched the grief of his wife grow to utter despondency over the next two weeks.

  When the young Jewish woman passed by him that day on the way to the gas chamber, she pleaded for him to save her child. It was more than he could bear, and the last thread of humanity inside him broke. She reached for him, and he turned away, once more too cowardly to do anything. But turning away did not save him. Her pleading eyes and voice were indelibly part of his memory now.

  The diesel engines roared to life as thousands of Jews fell into death. He could take it no more. He went to the opposite end of the chamber, where there was a door to remove the bodies. Other prisoners and Ukrainian guards would be there to do the gruesome task of transporting and burning the bodies. When the engines were shut down, the doors of the chambers opened to exhaust the poisonous fumes.

  And that’s when every guard and prisoner froze and listened. The noise of the engines had drowned out the gunfire and screams from the other parts of the camp. It had to be a prison break. Sirens sounded, guns fired, and guards and prisoners were running everywhere. The other SS soldier, Scharführer Josef Vallaster, began yelling orders. First for the prisoners to return to their barracks, then for the Ukrainian soldiers to help put down the revolt. Any prisoners who didn’t immediately return to their barracks were shot.

  Frederick stood near the door of the gas chamber, his senses assaulted by the stench of carbon monoxide gas and urine and by the sounds of gunfire and screams. He was surrounded by hell, both inside his mind and outside of his body. He fell to his knees, crushed by the mountain of evil he could not escape, and set the muzzle of his pistol against his head. What could be worse than this existence? No matter what lay on the other side of eternity, his death would at least end his part in the execution of others.

  His finger squeezed the trigger, but just a few ounces shy of releasing the firing pin, Frederick heard the muffled wail of a baby. He released the pressure on the trigger and leaned into the chamber. The cry was louder. Fredrick began pushing the twisted bodies aside until he saw the pale back of the young mother, sheltering her infant from the falling bodies around them. He gently lifted her body away so he could reach the infant. The babe lay on the cold floor surrounded by the stench of death.

  How was it possible? He lifted the child from the tangled mass of corpses. Frederick cradled the babe just as he had done two weeks earlier with the lifeless form of his sweet Liesl. The child quit crying and peered into his eyes. For the first time in years, he felt a moment of peace in spite of the chaos and death that was swallowing the camp. In the powerfully innocent gaze of a Jewish child spared by God from the gas chamber, Frederick found courage. This child would not die! Frederick could not save thousands, but perhaps he could save one.

  He drew his pistol and tucked it under his left arm beneath the cradled child, then stepped back out of the gas chamber and came face to face with Scharführer Vallaster. Lager III seemed empty except for the scattered bodies of dead prisoners.

  “Scharführer Kraus, we are needed in Lager I! The revolt— What are you holding?”

  “The infant survived the gas,” Frederick replied.

  Vallaster scowled. “The prisoners are all revolting. Kill it and come with me immediately!”

  Frederick felt his fear rising up inside him as he faced the fury of Vallaster. “No!” he shouted over the continual bursts of gunfire in the other regions of the camp.

  Vallaster’s eyes bulged with fury. He reached for the child’s legs to yank her from Frederick’s embrace, but Frederick turned to his right, away from Vallaster, and knew his next action would be punishable by death. He pulled the trigger on his hidden pistol, which was now aimed at Vallaster. Two shots rang out, and the SS man fell to his knees, shock in his eyes and on his face. He then fell backward onto the ground.

  Frederick didn’t know what to do. He had saved a Jewish baby, shot a fellow SS leader, and was stuck in the middle of a death camp under revolt. He tried to keep from panicking as his mind searched for some way of escape. He would have to pass through Lager II and Lager I to get to the main gate and then to a motorbike or automobile. It seemed impossible, although he could use the mayhem of the revolt to help him. He quickly made his way to the building where the prisoners were made to remove their clothing and found a large bag with straps. He gently laid the baby in the bag and closed it.

  He then went back to Vallaster’s body and came upon an idea. Scharführer Vallaster was responsible for operating the rail-trolley that took the elderly and the sick from the railway to Lager III. He had been in the process of returning the rail-trolley to the main station when the revolt began, so it was running and ready to move. Frederick had learned how to operate the rail-trolley when Vallaster was on leave just a month earlier.

  Frederick dragged Vallaster’s body to the rail and lifted him onto the rail-trolley. He then placed the bag with the baby beside him at the controls. Within a few minutes he reached the main rail and the front gate. He grabbed the bag, hoping that by some miracle the child’s cries would be muffled enough by the bag and drowned out by the continual machine-gun fire all around them. Near the gate, he ran to two Ukrainian guards.

  “Scharführer Vallaster has been shot by
the prisoners. He’s badly wounded. Take him to the officer’s quarters, and I will go for help!”

  The two guards left their posts, which allowed Frederick to exit the compound on a motorbike. He turned onto the road to Wlodawa, which the Germans called Wolzek. That was where Klara would be, in the home that the Germans had appropriated to be quarters for SS officers at the camp.

  Once home, Frederick opened the bag and lifted the wailing child out, gently placing her in Klara’s arms.

  “This is our Liesl, Klara. No one need know…No one must know.”

  Klara’s eyes were wide with wonder and fear. Deep down, Frederick felt as though Klara knew of the horror of the camp, but she did not ask. This baby girl was the one small glimmer of hope in a place of horrid darkness.

  Klara looked into the innocent eyes of the baby girl and nodded. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Liesl,” she whispered.

  Frederick knelt in front of Klara. “What I have done to save her means that we must leave. We must flee to Sweden where many refugees are safe from the…the Nazis.” Frederick found himself on the other side of the word now, and it felt right. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Klara nodded. “Yes, Frederick. Yes.”

  The next three weeks were treacherous for the young couple and their Liesl, but they eventually found safe haven in Sweden. When World War II ended, Frederick knew that America was the only place he had a chance to make a new life for himself and his family. In 1946, Frederick, Klara, and Liesl crossed the Atlantic to their new home. Frederick was ever hopeful that he had indeed left the evil of his past behind, but as Liesl grew, the little one he called his “sweet redemption” was also the face that haunted him each night in his dreams, for Liesl bore a striking resemblance to her mother.

  7

  VALIDUS AND THE VALIANTS

  Validus and Persimus found Brumak, Sason, Jayt, Crenshaw, and Rake on the grounds outside the FBI building in Chicago.

  Validus turned to Persimus. “Unless Carter is in danger, bring Tren down here. We need to brief up.”

  Persimus disappeared and was back a minute later with Tren.

  The seven warriors and Tren stood in a circle on the east grounds of the FBI complex. Validus took a moment to read the face of each of these valiant angels. The apparent disinterest on the faces of Brumak and Jayt discouraged him. Validus didn’t consider himself a great orator, but he needed the right words today to set the hearts and minds of his men straight for the mission ahead.

  “Holy angels of the Most High God, some of you may be wondering why you have been reassigned under my command to be the watch guard of one man sitting in an FBI holding cell. When we are finished with this briefing, I want no misgivings, no misunderstandings, no lack of commitment, and no uncertainty as to the significance of this mission. If any of you are still struggling, I don’t want you on this team. Is that clear?”

  Validus briefly glanced at each angel and received an affirmation from all. He continued.

  “First, the directive for this mission came from Archangel Michael. My reassignment from continental commander to mission commander came from Archangel Gabriel, and the authority for me to recruit each of you came from Archangel Raphael. When and if the day should come, I will bring five hundred warriors more to accomplish this mission.

  “Second, every warrior and guardian still serving in the Middle Realm has survived over four thousand years of battle with the Fallen. We are all veterans of war, but I chose each of you for very specific reasons. Each of you has a unique skill set that will allow us to succeed in protecting Drew Carter.” Validus stepped into the circle and pointed to the building fifty feet away. “Understand this: if he dies, we fail. And if we fail, Apollyon will revel in his pride as if he had thwarted the Great Purge.”

  Validus let his words marinate in their hearts and minds.

  “Commander, why is Carter so important?” Crenshaw asked. “We’ve only heard rumors.”

  Validus crossed his arms. “Persimus and I just returned from a mission in South America. I went to seek out Tinsalik Barob.”

  The angels looked from one to another with surprise on their faces.

  “The Fallen sent eight legions to stop me, but I found him. And what I learned from him brought clarity to this mission beyond anything I had expected. According to Barob, Apollyon devised a scheme to access the Hall of Ages. His purpose was to discover the trigger of the End of Days and thwart it, just as he did at the beginning of creation and just as he has tried to do ever since.”

  Validus scanned the faces of his men and could tell that all of them were hanging on each word he spoke.

  “The Fallen discovered that Drew Carter is the trigger. The message from the infiltrators of the Hall of Ages was ‘Drew Carter is the last.’ ”

  “The last what?” Rake asked.

  “The Book of Life is nearly full,” Sason said, his eyes fixed on nothing but the air above them. “Carter is the last salvation.”

  “Carter is the trigger for the End of Days, and Apollyon is trying to thwart Elohim’s plan once again,” Validus added. “We must keep Carter alive until he is saved.”

  “Is Ruach Elohim drawing him?” Jayt asked.

  “Yes, we believe so,” Tren interjected. “Sydney Carlyle is a strong believer and has witnessed to him numerous times. She has great influence on him.”

  “But from what you’ve told us, the US government is separating them forever,” Crenshaw added.

  “That’s true,” Validus said. “And besides this, they are recruiting him to be a CIA operative. With his skills, he will most likely be assigned the most dangerous missions. Add to this the fact that the Fallen know he is the End Times trigger, and you can appreciate the challenges we face. Niturni is the North American continental commander. He is resourceful and brilliant, and he will stop at nothing to destroy Carter.”

  Validus scanned the circle of warriors again, searching for their hearts.

  “There are a few things you need to know about Carter. As I’ve already told you, he can see us and the Fallen, though he can’t hear us. Additionally he has speed and fighting abilities that rival that of an angel.”

  “Impossible!” Jayt said. “Humans are too slow, their senses too dull.”

  Tren shook his head. “Not Carter. You’ll be impressed.”

  “Tren’s right,” Validus added. “Two days ago he single-handedly took on an entire gang in their hideout and defeated them. He is skilled in hand-to-hand and weapons. He even helped me destroy a droxan.”

  The last comment brought looks of disbelief from most of the angels.

  “How—” Sason began, but Validus cut him off.

  “It’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say that Carter is well engaged in the battles of both realms.”

  “The CIA knows what they’re doing in recruiting him,” Tren added.

  “Well, at least we’re working with a human with skills,” Rake said with a subtle smile.

  “Yes, except that he has the spirit of a good Samaritan,” Validus countered. “Couple that with the skills of an angel warrior, and you have an unsaved man who looks for trouble at every opportunity.”

  Validus watched Brumak cross his arms, his muscles bulging throughout his torso. There was no disinterest on his face anymore.

  “There is something else you should know about Carter…something the Fallen don’t know.” Validus scanned beyond their circle to make sure his words would remain undiscovered by the Fallen. “We have recently discovered evidence that Drew Carter is of the lineage that General Danick was tracking before he was dissolved. Carter’s grandmother survived the Sobibór death camp and is in fact the last of the lineage of Simeon. It makes sense why Elohim has His eye on this man.”

  Validus turned about to look each warrior in the eye. “It’s up to us, warriors. I cannot promise you victory, only fierce battles against many legions of the Fallen. And I can promise you this—I am committed to the valiant
calling of Elohim and to leading you, should you choose to remain as part of this team. What say you?”

  “I am with you, Commander,” Crenshaw said.

  “And I,” echoed Persimus, Sason, and Rake. A moment later, Jayt and Brumak followed.

  Validus let the moment linger, then nodded. “Very well then. Some of you have fought together but most have not. It’s going to be critical that we know each other’s abilities.” He turned toward Tren. Though the guardian didn’t have the appearance of a warrior, his brown eyes and fair hair wore the look of experience. There was nothing soft about his handsome face.

  “Tren was Carter’s guardian and was reassigned to him when the Fallen began taking an interest. Until today I was assigned to assist him. Now he is my second in command.” Validus gave the warriors all a stern look. They were not used to taking orders from a guardian, and he wanted to make sure they understood. “An order from Tren is an order from me. Tren knows Carter better than anyone, and he also has the gift of discerning the intentions of humans. I’ve never known him to be wrong in that regard.”

  Validus nodded toward Persimus. “Persimus has the ability to translate to human form with perfection and with longevity.”

  “Really?” Sason said with a hint of doubt. Warriors usually were not good at such a thing. “Let’s see.”

  Persimus scanned to make sure no human eyes were on them. Then with just a wisp of blue flame and faster than Validus had ever seen, Persimus translated to the perfect form of an FBI agent wearing an earpiece and sunglasses.

  “That’s easy. They’re stiff black and whites,” Sason said.

  A second later, Persimus was a bag lady complete with ragged clothes, mangled hair, and tattered shawl.

  Sason circled Persimus, evaluating every detail. He wrinkled his nose. “Whoa, that’s impressive—even got the smell!”