The War in Heaven (25 page)

“Satan has done this,” said Michael turning to the others.

His compatriots were surprised that Michael had referred to their former friend as Satan and not Lucifer. Michael had always held out the hope
that one day Lucifer might return to them. Apparently that hope had finally died.

“We can’t fly out of here,” noted Iseus. “All of Heaven lies on different planes from this place. Beyond outer darkness, there cannot be a more isolated place in the universe than this.”

“So we’re trapped,” deduced Gabriel.

Michael just nodded. Never had he felt so helpless.

“Perhaps the Father shall return,” suggested another.

“Perhaps,” replied Gabriel, “but I fear we might be in for a long wait.”

Up until this point, the angel Moriah had held his peace. More than any of the others, he had seen these events coming. “There is another portal in the fourth level of Heaven,” he said in a cautious tone. “I have used it numerous times. It is a secret portal known to a few of us. It is, in reality, a private portal designed by one of the saints.”

That revelation caught the group by surprise. A mere human building a thing that even the angels could not fashion? It seemed impossible.

“A portal built by a human?” asked Michael, confirming what he thought he heard.

“Yes,” said Moriah.

“What value would a portal be to one of the saints anyway?” asked Iseus. “Humans can gate from one place in Heaven to another at will; they have no need for a portal.”

“He built it for me and others as a courtesy,” replied Moriah. “It allows us to travel directly to his home. He has actively worked to oppose Satan for years. Some years ago, he confronted the father of lies right there on the plains of Hell. He is one of our greatest allies. Would you like me to attempt to open it? From there he could take us to Zion.”

“By all means,” said Michael, motioning to the corridor.

Moriah stood before the corridor for only a few seconds before it burst to life. The blank wall beyond vanished into sparkling mists then to what appeared to be a study within a home. Moriah entered and the others quickly followed. They had found a way out.

They stepped through a glistening metal ring into the large study. The walls were made of fine wood, as was the floor. The walls were adorned with beautiful paintings of the starry universe while before them was an old-fashioned blackboard with a myriad of mathematical equations of a complexity that would even challenge the mind of an angel. In front of the blackboard two men stood on either side of a wooden table gazing at their newly arrived guests.

One wore a long gray cape of a sort that was centuries out of fashion on Earth. He had hair of black with a distinctive receding hairline and a short pointed beard. In very fact, his head seemed a bit large, as if designed to hold an unusually large brain.

His companion was dressed in a pair of dark trousers and a loose white shirt. He had a mustache, curly dark hair, and dark eyes that seemed to look right through their unexpected guests.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” said Moriah.

“Not at all, my good friend,” said the cloaked man, a broad smile on his face. “You are always welcome in my house, you and your distinguished colleagues.”

“Johannes Kepler,” said Michael, smiling slightly, who then turned to Kepler’s companion, “and Nikola Tesla. I should have surmised this. Few others could have accomplished so great a feat as building a dimensional portal.”

“We had considerable help,” replied Kepler. “What you see is the work of eight men and women, and four years of labor.”

“Dr. Kepler, we need your assistance,” said Michael. “We have been unable to gate from the Father’s great judgment hall to our angelic compound in Zion. I fear we are in great jeopardy … all of us.”

It took several minutes for Michael to tell the two men of science about the cataclysmic events that might even now be occurring in Heaven. The two saints stood in amazement. Yes, they had been expecting something like this, but not so soon or so drastic. With the telling done, Dr. Kepler turned to the silvery metallic ring near the corner of his study and attempted to establish an ethereal corridor to the angelic compound in Zion, though without success.

“We will have to travel to the gates of Zion and go on foot from there,” announced Johann. “We cannot gate directly into the city itself … it is forbidden.”

Michael nodded. “We are indebted to you for your assistance.”

“Not at all,” replied Johann. “You and your angels have certainly come to our aid often enough. We are very much indebted to Moriah for all of his help over the years. We shall help in any way we can.”

Nikola nodded in agreement. “It sounds like we need to get moving.” He momentarily left the room, returning with two very sophisticated looking rifles. They had the look of weapons straight out of a science fiction film. He handed one to Johann. “If we encounter one of Satan’s brood, I want to be ready. I hope these are as effective in Heaven as they were in Hell.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” cautioned Gabriel. “Satan is forbidden to harm any human. That is … unless they are attacked first.”

“I’m not about to stand by while Satan attacks our allies,” said Nikola. “We’re in this with you for the duration.”

“Amen to that,” said Johann, quickly checking his weapon.

That response brought hope to the heart of the angels. Perhaps other humans would feel as these did. Perhaps they would not need to face this trial alone.

As 24-year-old David Bonner looked up from the bustling street toward the sky, all that greeted his eyes was a clear blue firmament. He was sure he had heard thunder, but in Zion? Yes, from time to time it did rain here, but he had never observed a thunderstorm.

There it was again. He could discern a direction to it now. It seemed to be coming from the Great Hall of the Angels, one of the tallest buildings in the city. He could see it from here, over a mile away, a great windowless marble structure, better than two miles wide on each side, rising nearly 300 feet above the busy streets. He was horrified when a third blast rocked the building. A section of the imposing structure, at least 20 feet on a side, exploded from the nearest corner, some 200 feet up. The huge fragments rained down onto the street below.

“Oh, sweet Lord, no!” cried David. His mind was catapulted back to the event that sent him and his mother from an 89th floor office in New York’s World Trade Center to their mansion in Heaven on September 11, 2001.

There were cries of alarm in the city street around him as balls of fire erupted from the newly formed gash in the great building. A second and third explosion blasted out two additional gashes along the east side of the building. Again there was a shower of rubble. Most of the people in the street could do little more than watch in horror; yet there was a growing surge of people moving in the direction of the most Holy Place in all of Zion; that place where the citizens of Heaven communed directly with the Father.

Within a minute, thousands of angels were flying above and around the building amid brilliant flashes of light and roaring spheres of fire. At first David did not comprehend what he was seeing. But whatever it was, the region in which it was occurring was swiftly expanding and growing closer. David began to retreat toward his home that was half a mile away. He turned to see figures in black and in white, closer now, apparently in the midst of battle. He put it all together. “War in Heaven,” he gasped, “an invasion.” He ran toward home.

By the time he reached home, the battle filled the skies, a battle between angels and demons. There was a steady stream of people migrating toward the center of the city and the perceived safety of the Holy Place.

“Oh thank God you’re safe!” said David’s mother wrapping her arms around him. June Bonner was in a hurry to get out the door. “We’ve got to get to the Father. He’ll protect us. We’ve got to get to the Holy Place. How can this happen in Heaven?”

How could it happen? That thought had been on David’s mind for the past ten minutes. But now he remembered a passage in the Book of Revelation about war in Heaven. So many people interpreted it as a reference to Lucifer and his angels being thrown out of Heaven thousands of years ago, but suppose they were wrong? Suppose this moment was the fulfillment of that prophecy?

David heard a loud clashing in the street just outside the house. He looked out the window and saw a battle between an angel clad in white and a demon in black. The clashing of their gleaming swords was accompanied by a near blinding flash of light. Never in his life had he been witness to such a thing. A few seconds later, others joined the fray. It seemed that the few angels were being quickly outnumbered by the demons. “If only I had one of Tesla’s particle rifles,” lamented David. He might have to do something about that. He turned to his mother. “Mom, I think we better stay inside…it might be risky to be out in the streets right now.”

His mother looked from the window in horror, and backed toward the living room. “I think, you’re right … we’d better stay inside.”

As the battle escalated around them, it was clear that they would have to wait it out at home. June sat down at the kitchen table with her son and prayed that God’s protection would be upon both of them.

At the great ring on the plains of Hell, Satan could hardly contain his glee as demons by the thousands poured through the portal and into the swirling mists beyond. They had already sent nearly two million through this ancient archway to every angelic portal in Heaven. He felt confident that he now had control of all of them. Most would be deactivated. He would only keep those that he absolutely needed. Divide, isolate, and conquer—that was the plan.

He gazed toward Metastopholies, who watched the advance dispassionately. “Our day has come,” he announced.

Metastopholies only nodded.

“Soon, very soon, we shall set foot in Zion once more, breathe the air of Heaven again,” continued Satan. “I shall ascend to the place of honor I once held…to the throne of angelic power, second only to the Father. I shall be the bright morning star as it is my destiny to be.”

Satan turned to see General Krell approaching. Krell bowed low before his master. “My lord, I have confirmation that we now hold all of the angelic portals in Heaven. We have deactivated seven of them, leaving only the four that we need for this operation. The minions of Michael and Gabriel are in full retreat. Thus far, things are going better than we had anticipated. I congratulate you, my Lord.”

“Very good, General,” said Satan, a smile on his face. “May I assume that the Hall of Angels in the City of Zion is sufficiently secure for me to make the crossing?”

“Almost,” assured Krell. “We are sweeping the complex for what scattered pockets of resistance remain. I suspect that it will be safe for his lordship within two hours…perhaps less. However, be aware that it has been heavily damaged. It was there that resistance was the greatest.”

“So much progress,” said Satan, turning to Metastopholies as Krell returned to directing the forces streaming through the portal. “With the war but three hours old, we have nearly secured our principle targets. It has been almost too easy.”

“Proceed with great caution, my lord,” cautioned Metastopholies. “Do not count the victory before it is truly won. Do not underestimate your adversary. While it is yet dying, the venomous snake might strike one last deadly blow, pulling its attacker down in death along with it.”

For a moment, Satan seemed frustrated, perhaps even a bit angry. “Why are you so negative, Metastopholies?”

“Because you need me to be,” retorted Metastopholies. “Whether you realize it or not, it is true nonetheless. I will speak the truth to you when others fear to. I do not fear your scorn because I wish for you to succeed above all else.”

Satan nodded as he watched his forces continue through the great portal. He gazed out upon the plains blackened by the sheer numbers of his forces. The words of Metastopholies continued to rattle around in his head. They rang true. Military logic and tactics had to rule this war—not emotion, not his rage. The humans said that revenge was a dish best served cold. He would have to remember that wisdom, despite its dubious source.