Tribulation

Unlike the
first book in the Rapture Trilogy (Rapture), Tribulation was
written with what I can only call professional dedication. In other
words, I locked myself in a room and didn’t come out until it was
finished, a stranger to my wife and my eight month old son, Jack.
To them of course, my love and thanks. I couldn’t have done it
without their patience and support.

Tribulation
was seen by no-one until I had essentially finished the rough
draft. This is unusual for me largely because I always get people
to read sample chapters throughout the writing process. It was with
some trepidation then that I got a few people to read it in order
to point out glaring errors and factual inconsistencies. Some have
provided support in other ways. My thanks to Lindy Muller, Tim
Eade, Adam Evans, Wayne Bainbridge and Rosemarie Sherlock. Any
glaring errors and factual inconsistencies that still remain are
entirely my fault.

Special thanks
to Cheryl Rowe for her fantastic design work on both Rapture and
Tribulation. Her covers look amazing.

Lastly, eternal
thanks to my publisher and editor, Jill Marshall at Pear Jam Books.
I really don’t know where she finds the time to do everything she
does.

Thanks to
Allison & Busby Limited for permission to use several quotes
from Miyamoto Musashi’s Book of five rings (Translated by Victor
Harris, 1974, pp 52, 59, 64).

The religious
quotes were predominantly taken from the 1978, New International
version of the Holy Bible and the Old Testament.

“
This book really
surprised me as to how good it was. As a dystopian junkie this one
is high on my recommendation list. I will be watching out for the
next installment of this series because now I'm hooked.”

www.abook-loversreview.com

“
Rapture is written
in a beautiful, hauntingly way full of descriptive style that
leaves your mind tingling. Phillip W. Simpson expertly braids
together an action-packed, coming-of-age story that both females
and males of all age will enjoy.”

http://readingbythebeach.blogspot.co.nz

“
Would I recommend
Rapture? Definitely, if you love demons, battle scenes aplenty and
a great ending, you’ll love this!”

http://talltalesandshortstories.blogspot.co.nz

“
One thing that made
the book so enjoyable was the pacing, which I thought was perfect.
There would be some moments of downtime, but an action scene would
quickly follow so the story never got dull. And what's even better
is that Simpson really knows how to write action.”

http://midnight-reader.blogspot.co.nz

“
Not a single scene
felt like a drag or filler. WOW, the fighting scenes felt fresh and
not repetitive at all.”

http://roroisreading.blogspot.co.nz

“
I have to say that
the author is a master at describing Sam’s fight moves with his
swords. It is easy to get into monotonous repetitions, but I never
felt that happening anywhere in the book. The fight sequences have
been terrifically choreographed and I just loved getting immersed
in them.”

http://riteshkala.wordpress.com

“…
this book is one
of the most unique post-apocalyptic YA books I've seen yet.
Fast-paced and engrossing, it kicks off … - and doesn't slow
down.”

http://ricochetreviews.blogspot.co.nz/

“
Rapture is a
beautifully told story in an ugly setting. The writing is
descriptive but straight-forward, the settings are familiar yet new
and the characters are engaging, evil or otherwise. I am so happy
that I gave this book a chance – Mr. Simpson is an incredibly
talented writer and I will be eagerly awaiting the next installment
of this series, which has serious potential to be the next big
thing in YA reading.”

http://theaussiezombie.blogspot.co.nz

“
This is a pretty
epic story that deals with a lot of hefty issues. Overall this is a
really good book that has action and adventure, love and
heartbreak, and above all hope.”

http://evesfangarden.com

"For there will be
Great Tribulation such has not been since the beginning of the
world until this time, no, nor ever shall be. And unless those days
were shortened no flesh would be saved"
(Matthew
24:21-22)

Richland, Ohio

Three and a half years
into the Tribulation

“
I broke the fangs
of the wicked and snatched the victims from their teeth.”
Job
29:17

S
am crouched in the gloom and waited for night to
fall. He shifted restlessly, his body keen to be doing something -
anything other than wait. Waiting, however, seemed to be his lot
during daylight hours. When your days were largely empty of
anything other than meditation, eating and training, the excitement
and action that came with nightfall were a welcome change.

He was
beginning to drift into his calm, inner meditative zone again when
the building he was sheltering within started to shake violently.
Instantly alert, Sam sighed and stood with one fluid motion,
prepared to move if the building collapsed suddenly. He eyed the
shaking walls warily, shifting his feet easily to accommodate the
bucking floorboards. Most were already cracked and warped –
testament to the amount of ground movement they had already been
subjected to. Earthquakes were becoming more and more commonplace
these days. They had been a fairly regular occurrence since the
Rapture but lately, they had increased in frequency and power. Sam
was almost blasé about them now but still treated them with a
certain respect. Although not as susceptible to physical harm as
normal humans, he could still become trapped under tons of
rubble.

The building
continued to shake, the tremor building in intensity. Sam watched
curiously as a long crack appeared in the wall opposite, spreading
like the tendrils of a questing weed. A crash sounded somewhere
from a back room and his hand unconsciously slipped down to grip
the haft on his Wakizashi tucked into his belt. When nothing
emerged, he relaxed. Probably something shifting - not that there
would be anything left on the walls. Any objects or photos that had
once adorned the interiors had long since fallen down. If this kept
up, though, he might have to move sooner than anticipated … and he
was loathe to step out into daylight.

The building
had once been a clothing store although there was precious little
evidence of stock left now. Most of it would’ve been picked over by
survivors. All the racks now lay on their side, strewn around and
stacked haphazardly on top of one another. The serving counter was
split down the middle. Anything remaining was now covered by a fine
layer of ash which also served as an indication of recent
intrusion. Sam had cased the place carefully before making it his
base. No tracks in the ash, neither human nor demon, meant that no
one else had been here for at least a few days.

More cracks
burst into existence in the ceiling above his head. White plaster
drifted down onto his hood which he brushed off carelessly. Then,
without warning, the tremor stopped. The quake was over. An eerie
silence filled the room - the calm after the storm. It didn’t last
for long though; the building began to creak alarmingly as it
settled into its new position. Sam waited it out, ready to dart
away if the need arose. Thankfully it didn’t, and he settled back
down into a crouch, as still as one of the mannequins that littered
the floor.

Night had come
now and his enhanced senses detected the inevitable changes that
came with it. The moon, now the color of blood, had made an
appearance from behind the almost solid barrier of clouds that
swirled above the shattered town and a red stain slowly flowed into
the room via various cracks and openings, filling Sam with a
strange warmth and feeling of power. It was a thrilling sensation
but, equally, one that filled him with disquiet: A reminder that
the Earth, especially at night, now belonged to his kind. Most
especially his father, the devil, the Prince of demons - and all
those who served him. His kin, but also his sworn enemy.

The night,
however, only belonged to the devil for a finite period. Soon
enough, change would come and Satan would once again be banished to
whence he had come - Hell. It was small consolation to Sam, but at
least it gave him some hope. And some hope, as his master Hikari
had always said, was better than none.

Right now, the
darkness belonged to them. He reached out with his senses, feeling
the demonic presence. He could sense them emerging from the rift
between Hell and Earth, centered around the desecrated churches,
their auras a hot glow of hatred in his mind. They were around but
no-where in the immediate vicinity. He’d chosen this spot with
care, well away from any church.

Relieved, he
tried something else, something that he had become more adept at in
the intervening years since the Rapture and his time spent looking
after Grace. He could now sense the distinctive minds of normal
humans, their presence softer and less intense than those of
demons. They were much closer, in a nearby warehouse he’d
identified a few days earlier. They were stirring, becoming more
active, a sign in itself that all was not well.

Sam could draw
only two conclusions from the activity. Either they were preparing
to fight off an imminent demon attack or - much more sinister -
they were in league with the demons and were planning their evening
abominations.

Unfortunately,
the latter explanation was the only conclusion he could draw with
some certainty. Experience dictated that he could no longer reveal
himself when encountering humans for the first time. The reception
he received, almost without exception, was poor to say the least.
His disguise – if you could call his hood a disguise – didn’t last
for long and the truth soon emerged. What he’d learnt long ago was
that people always judged him before they knew him. Always. He just
didn’t bother anymore. Instead, he liked to observe without being
seen; assessing, planning, debating the best way his unique skills
could be used to help those who had been left behind during the
Tribulation.

In the case of
the people in the warehouse - he’d observed them some days earlier
and realized the dreadful truth. They were in league with the
demons. There could be no doubt about it. It wasn’t just that
though. They had descended into the very depths of human depravity,
preying on their fellow humans. Feeding on them. Cannibalism. It
had only taken him this long to act because there were too many of
them and he needed to plan carefully. Some of them were armed with
iron, which was the only weapon that could harm him. He would have
to be careful. He had enough self-awareness to realize that while
he was somewhat immune to conventional attack, he certainly wasn’t
invulnerable.

He rested then,
settling into the lotus position, conserving his strength for the
fight to come. Entering a meditative zone, time lost all meaning,
although he was careful not to let it turn into sleep. Sleep led to
dreams and his dreams were all about his mother. He really didn’t
want to witness her suffering again or dwell on his failure to find
her all those years earlier in Hell.

Hours passed
like minutes and then, abruptly, it was time. Quickly, with a
seamless transition from meditation to full wakefulness, he
stood.

He dropped his
pack on the ash-covered floor. He’d have to come back for it later.
Adjusting his swords at shoulder and hip, silent as death itself,
he moved towards the entrance of the shop. The door was ajar and
all the windows were shattered, so he was careful to check his foot
placement. The crunch of glass could easily alert someone and he
took care as he moved past the doorframe, hugging the outside wall
and keeping to the shadows. Outside, he crouched down next to the
cracked facade of the building and scanned around.