Shepherd's Salvation

Albrecht Thomas

Description

Living on his family's farm in Nebraska, John Shepherd and his wife Jackie know humanity's days are numbered. Despite battling with depression and the tragic end of his military career, John's fighter-pilot spirit is strong, and he can't afford to stand by and watch an unbelieving world as they face a global disaster that is less than three years away. With dreams haunted by images of war, and now by a divine calling, he knows that his Maker is counting on him to build a colossal craft capable of carrying its passengers through space on an uncertain trek in search of a new home. Failure at any stage will lead to cataclysmic death, but John can't give in to fear, with the horrors of Earth's destruction hurtling toward mankind with inescapable vengeance. Travel with John as he sets out on an unpopular, righteous path to build a lifeboat for a select few-human, plant, and animal-to journey through space on an epic pilgrimage. Will he be able to convince a blind world that he can offer salvation from the apocalypse? Rise of Humanity is the first book in the Shepherd's Salvation saga.

Sujets

• Futuristic
• Christian
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 25 mars 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977211804
• Langue: English

Extrait

Shepherd’s Salvation
Rise of Humanity
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2019 Thomas Albrecht
v10.0

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.
http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-9772-1180-4

Cover Photo © 2019 www.gettyimages.com . All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


I would like to thank my parents, Steve and Jean Albrecht, for molding me into the man I am today. I’d also like to thank my other family members and friends for believing in me and supporting my efforts in writing this novel. Additionally, thanks to my wife Tia for putting up with my many hours of writing and raising our children in my absence.
Most of all, I would like to thank Richard “Ro” O’Connor (3/16/55 - 1/21/17), who, without his experience, insight, and creativity, this novel would not have been possible.
Rest in peace my friend.

Chapter 1
“T hunder One, this is Sandman. We need some lead on target now.”
“Sandman, this is Thunder One. I’m en route. I have eyes on your position and will be there in two minutes. Pop smoke to confirm your location.”
“Thunder One, we don’t have two minutes; we’re about to be overrun!”
“Sandman, pop smoke now and keep your heads down. I’m coming in hot from the South.”
“Thunder One, we’re popping red smoke now. Anyone outside our building is hostile!”
“Sandman, I have a visual; but hostiles are too close to engage. You guys are well inside the kill zone.”
“Thunder One, you are cleared hot, cleared hot, cleared hot! If you don’t engage, we’ll be dead anyway!”
“Thunder One copies, I’m in hot from the South. Take cover if you can.”
John Shepherd, call sign Thunder One, rolled in over the target area with his A-10 aircraft. At 5 feet, 11 inches, he was your typical fighter jock—good looking, solid muscle, and totally confident in his abilities. Tensing up on the trigger of his control stick, John quickly identified targets through his heads-up display. From the top of a lone building, he could clearly see a plume of red smoke billowing from the smoke grenade used by the Special Operations Forces (SOF) on the ground. Dozens of hostile forces were running toward the building, and it was clear they were making a final charge when John arrived on scene.
John passed over a desolate plain, low through a mountain pass towards his target. The Afghan mountains were bare, with rocks littering the landscape and an occasional tree or bush visible, struggling to survive. John knew the mountains provided the enemy with perfect ambush sites and allowed them to escape through tunnels and passes, but he cleared his mind of this as he began to engage.
John flew into action with his A-10 aircraft—a fierce fighting machine. Built exclusively around a 30mm Gatling gun, the aircraft was originally designed to kill Russian tanks by firing 70 armor-piercing rounds per second. SOF had come to rely on the A-10 for close air support (CAS) because it was so quick and nimble, just like a dragonfly. With two engines and redundant hydraulic systems, the aircraft could take a hit and keep on fighting. When operated by an ace fighter pilot like John Shepherd, wings loaded with missiles and bombs, it would effectively be lights out for anyone in its path.
John squeezed the trigger on his control stick and the distinctive hum of the 30mm Gatling gun echoed through the valley as the bullets shot out of the barrels in search of a target. Bullets struck the ground in a straight path, indicated by the puffs of sand as they impacted the surface. Each one had a devastating effect as they passed through the enemy combatants. One by one, the enemy fighters crumpled into an immediate and final repose, dead where they last stood. As John released the trigger and pulled out of his attack run, he saw two puffs of dust fly off the side of the building with the smoke grenade on top.
Enemy combatants that weren’t hit during the initial strafing run knew what their fate would be if they stuck around and began running chaotically in all directions. John banked hard in a turn to chase after those scattering. Suddenly, his missile warning detector went off, and several flares automatically deployed to decoy an incoming projectile.
John desperately looked over each shoulder, snapping his head left, then right, to see what was headed towards him, but it was already too late. An enemy’s missile exploded near John’s left wing and tore several gaping holes into his aircraft. Numerous alarms and warning indicator lights went off in the cockpit informing John how badly damaged the aircraft was.
The SOF Forward Air Controller on the ground, call sign Sandman, called out to John over the radio and said, “Thunder One, missile launch from east mountain peak!” John quickly spotted two men running on the mountaintop—one still carrying the missile launcher in his right hand and attempting to reload. After quickly assessing the damage to his aircraft and determining he could continue the fight, John set his sights on two new targets.
With his hand on the control stick, he used his thumb to switch his weapon system from gun to rocket, and leveled off the aircraft. Calculating the speed at which the hostiles were running, the distance to the target, and the time it took for a rocket to travel, John squeezed the trigger at just the right moment. In an instant, a volley of 2.75-inch high-explosive rockets fired from his right wing pod, leaving a trail of flame and smoke as they snaked their way toward the ground. In less than five seconds, the rockets found their targets—each one exploding in a ball of flame and debris. Both hostiles were obliterated on the spot.
John immediately turned his attention back to those who were running away on the valley floor below. The quickest way out of the valley was through a narrow pass, and the enemy knew that was their only chance for survival. They headed for what they believed was safety and began to congregate into a larger and easier group to pick off. John circled around once more to allow for the perfect moment when he could strike. After leveling off for the final run, John switched his weapons back to the Gatling gun. As he locked in on his targets and began to squeeze the trigger, thoughts of his childhood flashed into his mind.
John pictured his father. He was offering him advice as he had done countless times during John’s life. It was as if his father was sitting in the A-10’s cockpit with him, the voice and imagery was so clear. “Johnny, if you can’t talk your way out of a fight, be sure to block the punch. If you can’t block the punch, then maim your attacker to prevent him from punching. If your attacker persists and your life is at risk, then, and only then should you kill him.”
John processed the information, assessing it in a split second as if it was a piece of key engagement intel. He looked again at the enemy, scurrying about on the valley floor below him like so many ants. They no longer posed a threat. John was about to break off the engagement when he heard a call over the radio.
“Thunder One, this is Sandman. We need a medevac for one, ASAP. Please relay.”
“Sandman, Thunder One copies. Provide nature of injury and cause.” There was a pause in communication, so John repeated his last transmission. “I repeat, Sandman, this is Thunder One. Provide nature of injury and cause.”
“Thunder One, abdominal wound . . . Blue-on-Blue, over.”
Blue-on-Blue . . . those three words meant John had hit one of the good guys. His heart sank, but the moment and circumstances didn’t allow for the luxury of grieving or regret. He was yanked from his momentary distress by the unmistakable and alarming sound of thumping coming from his aircraft. The plane began to shudder. John’s number one engine suddenly flamed out as he flew out of the valley over the heads of the enemy. He now realized the damage to his aircraft had depleted his fuel supply. John knew he only had a matter of seconds before the number two engine would flame out as well, and he wanted to get as far away from the enemy as possible.
Then, something on the jagged mountain peak to his right caught his eye. He watched helplessly as an enemy fighter knelt down on one knee and brought a missile launcher up to his right shoulder and pointed it in his direction. John quickly glanced down at his control panel to see how many flares he had left, but the display was blank. There was nothing he could do. John looked back in the direction of the enemy fighter just as he squeezed the trigger.
A flash of red and a puff of smoke; the missile was on its way. John pushed his number two engine throttle up as far as it could go only to find that he was now completely out of fuel. His only remaining means of escape just flamed out. There was no way now that he could avoid the inevitable. In another few seconds, it would all be over.
John glanced at the picture of his wife and kids he had taped to the dashboard of his aircraft as he reached down to pull the handle for his ejection seat, knowing