It sure didn’t take long for events in the news to produce an apocalypse-
worthy article. These two items happened over the weekend, but a full schedule kept me from responding to them in a timely manner. But before I get started, I want to make something clear.

* Disclaimer: I am not participating in a political debate. The purpose of the Apocalypse Blog is to look at the current events with an eye towards how they fit into the prophecies of the Second Coming. I am not picking a political side. I am looking at the possible consequences for the events we are experiencing. Keep in mind that all of this comes from a guy who spends too much of his time wondering how the world will end and then writing stories about it. 




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Compton Shooting.
​Image courtesy of Newsbreak

            News Item #1 – Two LA Police Officers Ambushed

Saturday, September 12, 2002. An individual with a pistol, walked up to two Compton police officers and shot both. Each of the officers took a single shot to the head. Then the assailant fled the scene. The victims are a 31-year-old mother and her 24-year-old police partner.

People on the street, when the shooting happened, cheered the unprovoked attack. One individual even streamed himself laughing about the violence perpetrated against the officers. A crowd gathered at the hospital, while the officers were in surgery, and chanted, “We hope they die” and “Ya’ll going to die. One by one.” The crowd also blocked the entrance to the emergency room, putting other lives at risk. 

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Lancaster riot. Image courtesy of Red State

            News Item #2 – Police Involved Shooting in Lancaster, PA.

Sunday, September 13, 2020. A man wielding a knife charges a Lancaster police officer. The officer shoots and kills the man after it first attempting to flee the situation. Based on the body-cam footage of the incident, it appears to be a case of self-defense.

As a result of the shooting, members of Black Lives Matter have rioted, taken up position in front of the local police station for the purpose of taunting officers, and finally a clash between police and the protesters.  

These events happened during the same weekend, on opposite sides of the country. A sign that this is more than an isolated incident of bad behavior. Together, they represent the current state of mind for a growing segment of America. Together, they bracket the gateway into the apocalyptic world of Mad Max. ​

 Mad Max was the story of a police officer, attempting to keep his part of the world from devolving into utter chaos and barbarism. In the movie, he eventually embraces the same violence he originally sought to oppose. But that isn’t our story.
 
What connects the fictional story of Mad Max with the events that are taking place in the United States today, is what it means to Cross the Blue Line.

Police represent law and order in society. A level of respect and even admiration is expected to be shown to the brave men and women who put their lives on the line to protect our civil rights. They are a symbol of freedom and security. They are the living embodiment of the law and thusly the government.

In a normal, functioning society, the citizens take pause when it comes to how they interact with the police. After all, bad behavior directed at an officer of the law could result in penalties involving fines and imprisonment.  And this is the way we want the system to work. The police can only protect us and enforce peace for as long as we respect their authority.
 
When society as a whole targets the police and actively works to hinder their ability to enforce the law, we have Crossed the Blue Line. It is the gateway to societal chaos. Crossing that line permits every variant of us vs. them to be explored because there is no one to stop the conflict between opposing factions. The actions citizens take are only limited by the lengths which each individual is willing to go in order to promote their own side of an argument.
 
Books and movies are filled with examples of what we expect it to look like when we Cross the Blue Line: Mad Max, Escape from New York, The Road, The Postman, and The Book of Eli. All of these stories show what happens when we eliminate the police from the equation. Power is taken by those strong enough to force others to their will. Property is taken by groups large enough to take it. The weak are enslave, killed, or worse.

Make no mistake about it. The authority of the police is under attack. More than one-hundred days of violent protest in Portland. The lawless CHOP zone in Seattle. Riots in major cities every time a police officer is involved in a shooting – even when it is the officer being shot. This is madness.

 This is the apocalypse. 

 My life took an unexpected turn when I discovered, a few years ago, that my dad is not my biological father. Dealing with that discovery, writing a memoir about my experience, and then marketing the book has delayed the writing and publishing of The Gathering series.

As you can see from my last posting, I have started work on the fourth and final story in the series. However, the material I had planned to use in a book 4 and a book 5 is going to be crammed into a single novel. I just don’t feel that I have the time to write two books before many of the events I believe are to come are upon us.

Even if I had the time, there’s too much that is happening in the world today for me to use all of it as part of my story of hope and encouragement. I want to address the events of the news while they are still fresh in our minds. What that means is that I plan (hope) to blog about the apocalypse.

Some of you are probably out there saying, “Don’t you mean you’ll be blogging about the future apocalypse?” The answer is, “No.” We are in the midst of The Apocalypse. Alright, probably more like the start of the apocalypse. Take a look at these images. This is America, as taken from recent news reports. If this isn’t an apocalypse, then tell me what is.




Minneapolis Riot.  

Image courtesy of  Boston Review.net. 
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The purpose of this blog is the same as my reason for writing The Gathering. Events of the Last Days have been prophesied so the faithful can be prepared. Knowing what to expect will make it easier to deal with the trials we will face.   
While the material I draw upon for my stories is based on the words of the prophets, I am not one myself. I am only a storyteller, trying to make sense of what is happening around me in light of what the prophets have said. Some of my guesses in the first two books have been reasonably accurate and others have not. But that is all they are – guesses.

The Apocalypse Blog will feature news items that are worth examining. I might offer a few suggestions on how each of the events could affect our lives and our future lives, but I leave it to you to ponder their significance.

Expect to see the first post as soon as an item in the news grabs my attention. Or in other words, expect to see that soon.

​​Minnesota
Image courtesy of Star Tribune.

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​Portland
Image courtesy of CNN

            There is a fascination within the Mormon community for the end of the world. Early leaders of the LDS church discussed the matter frequently. The scriptures are full of prophecies about Armageddon and the Second Coming of Christ. And even though the counsel over having a year’s supply is in preparation against emergencies of any kind members tend to think in terms of an impending apocalypse.
            It’s no wonder that so many LDS authors write apocalyptic novels from the Mormon perspective. If you enjoy this kind of story then here are a few series for you to check out.
            The Gathering: End’s Beginning by Randy Lindsay. Yep, I fall into this category. I’m working on the third book in the series about an average LDS family facing the events leading up to the end of the world. The stories are realistic and meant to give readers hope should we find ourselves in the middle of the actual apocalypse.
            The Great and Terrible series by Chris Stewart. This is one of the most popular sets of books in the Mormon Apocalypse genre. Book one, Prologue: The Brothers takes place in heaven before the characters come to Earth. The series moves to Earth in book two where Elizabeth and her brothers must withstand the forces of evil in the Middle East conflict. There are six books in the series and can usually be found prominently displayed at Deseret Books.
           The End Begins: Sudden Darkness by Margot Hovley. Terrorists attack the U.S. power grid and eighteen-year-old Amelie Hatch and is faced with not only living in a world without electricity, but the need to walk to Utah as part of the gathering of the LDS community. There are two books in the series and are likely to appeal to YA readers.
            Conspiracy Rising by Simon Driscoll is the first book in the Warriors and Watchmen series. There are two books in the series that are currently available and a third which is scheduled for a November 2016 release. Based on my conversations with Simon I know that the series is based on his take of the prophecies about the end of the world. His sources include the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and several popular visions circulating around the LDS community. The story deals with the Shumways, who have several members of family working for the CIA and involved in the escalating political strife felt around the globe. 
            The Folk of the Fringe by Orson Scott Card is my favorite novel in this category. Card is probably the best known LDS author, but this book doesn’t get the attention it deserves. It deals with several LDS and non-LDS characters as they deal with the apocalypse. Good reading at its best.

            Books that I’m less familiar with include:
            Hidden Light: Millennial Glory by Wendie L. Edwards.
            Rising Storm by Jessica Draper and Richard D. Draper.
            Prodigal Journey by Linda Paulson Adams
            Ere His Floods of Anger Flow by John Harmer
 
            That’s a lot of reading about the end of the world. If you know of any books in the genre that I’ve missed, please contact me so I can add it to the list.

            There’s nothing like blasting a few head-bobbing tunes on my entertainment system to put me into the proper frame of mind to write a specific scene. Obviously, the music has to match what I’ve deemed to be the appropriate emotional feel for the scene. I’d like to think my stories are richer expressions of the human condition because of it, but I have to admit that it might accomplish nothing more than making it easier for me to write the emotional tone that I want.
            Here is a playlist of the songs I’m using while writing the untitled third book in The Gathering series.
 
 
Robert has been my go-to guy for action. That isn’t going to change. When I write combat scenes I want something with a heavy beat that really makes my pulse race. While not really dark enough for the story in Book 3 I still like I Feel Love by the Blue Man Group and Venus Hum.
 
 
If you’ve been following the series so far then you know Robert is not a muscle-headed action star. He has a romantic side as well. When a scene involves Robert pining over Sierra being so far away I play I Would Walk 500 Miles by the Proclaimers. In this case, both the music and lyrics inspire Robert’s storyline.
 

John hasn’t gone anywhere in Book 3. He’s still in Camp Valiant, dealing with a changing world. The song that inspires me for this storyline takes a familiar song and catapults it into the next century. I have a Mormons in Space story I plan to write—eventually—and this tunes puts into my mind images of ships blasting off and then streaking through space. Ye Elders Of Israel by Vista 4.

Poor Calvin. I have two songs I play for his storylines. Neither of them is meant to put me in a particularly optimistic mood. When I want to represent the vicious nature of politics I play Pressure by Billy Joel.  
 
 
Then when I’m done playing nice with Calvin I put on Twilight Zone by Golden Earring. (If you can find a censored version of the video it really fits the mood of Calvin’s story.)
 
 
When I’m looking to write witty banter between two characters I like to play A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley. Is this faster paced than most of your normal conversations? Not mine. As far as I’m concerned this is what most conversations should feel like—in life and in literature.
 
 
Sarah should have rejoined her family when she had the chance. Now she is stuck in a storyline where Radioactive by Imagine Dragons feels appropriate for what’s happening to her. More than any other song this one best represent Book 3 as a whole.
 
 


It’s important to keep in mind that God is at the center of everything that will happen prior to the Millennium. When I want to add a spiritual element to the story I listen to Rock Of Ages by Jason Waller.
 
For those times when I’ve had enough drama, sorrow, action, and intrigue I take an emotional break from the story and listen to You Can’t Stop The Beat from the Hairspray Soundtrack. A couple of plays of this upbeat song and I’m ready to face the end of the world once again.

            Good news! Book three in The Gathering series is well underway. I am incredibly excited about the storyline. The storyteller in me wants to rattle off all sorts of details about what I have planned for the book, but the logical, seasoned author part of me knows that will just ruin the surprise.
            I guess I’ll have to settle for interviewing one of the characters. It may interest some of you to know that I start a book by writing all of the chapters for the main character. Then I pick another character and write all of their chapters. This helps me keep each individual plotline running smoothly and reduce the number of continuity mistakes.
            Since I’m currently working with Robert I might as well interview him.
 
 
Randy: How are you enjoying the book so far?
 
Robert: You can’t be serious. I mean, have you read any of your books?
 
 
Randy: It isn’t as if I sit at home and read my books in utter admiration of my writing skills, but I do go through them several times as part of the editing process. What’s your point?
 
Robert: My point is that it stinks to be a protagonist in your novels. In the first book you beat me up and broke my ribs. In the second book you blew up the vehicle I was riding in and then shot me. I can only imagine what you plan to do to me in this story. It won’t be pleasant—of that I can be sure. I happened to run into the protagonist from your first book while we were waiting for you to get busy with another story. He told me that in one of the chapters you had him shot and then when he stumbled out to the street to save his granddaughter you ran over him with a van.
 
 
Randy: Point taken. Maybe that wasn’t a great question to start off the interview. Were there any scenes in the series so far that you liked?
 
Robert: I really enjoyed my date with Sierra at the Slab Factory.
 
 
Randy: That’s my favorite scene too. It’s one of only two scenes that made the transition from the original story to the one that was finally accepted by the publisher. At least I made sure the two of you stayed in touch. If you’re not happy with the way I’ve been treating you in the books, what do you suggest? What would you like to see happen?
 
Robert: Oh sure. I tell you and then you do the author equivalent of pulling my chair out from under me as I go to sit. No thank you.
 
 
Randy: I promise not to do that.
 
Robert: Your fingers are crossed.
 
 
Randy: Alright. This time I really promise not to use your answer against you.
 
Robert: Get rid of the plotting notes you’ve already made and turn book three into a romantic-comedy where Sierra and I are married at the end.
 
 
Randy: I like the way you think. The only problem with that idea is that I might start out writing a romantic-comedy, but by chapter four it would turn into a psychological thriller/horror story where Sierra turns out to be an insane assassin on the run from the FBI and ends up killing your entire family so she can have you all to herself.
 
Robert: There is something serious wrong with you.
 
 
Randy: I know.
 
Robert: What if you have Sierra and my family meet me at the airport when I get back home and we all travel to Camp Valiant and ride out the war in an austere, but safe setting?
 
 
Randy: It sounds great—really it does. I just don’t think that’s going to happen. It’s not a very exciting story and I have to keep the readers happy.
 
Robert: I’m starting to think you care about the readers more than you do me.
 
 
Randy: Oh my goodness. Where did the time go? That’s it for today. I’ll go ahead and put Robert back into the character box and get back to writing.
 
Robert: No! I don’t want to go. I . . . mmmphhh, mmpppph!
 

            Top ten lists are great. If you’re really creative there’s no end to the number of lists you can develop on any given subject. Today’s list should serve as a good example of that—top ten songs of the apocalypse.
 
 
(Bonus Song: Waiting For the End by Linkin Park)
 
10. We Will Become Silhouettes by The Postal Service
 
9. Party at Ground Zero by Fishbone
 
8. Red Skies by The Fixx
 
7. London Calling by The Clash
 
6. Ninety-Nine Red Balloons by Nena
 
5. We Don’t Need Another Hero by Tina Turner
 
4. 1999 by Prince
 
3. So Long Mom (I’m Off to Drop the Bomb) by Tom Lehrer
 
2. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons
 
1. It’s the End of the World by R.E.M
 

                              TOP TEN RESOLUTIONS OF THE APOCALYPSE
 
            It’s the end of another year and time for the tradition of setting a whole new batch of resolutions that will most likely be forgotten in another two weeks. Have you ever wonder what sort of resolutions you would make once you were in the middle of the apocalypse? I guarantee they would vary a great deal from the ones you currently are planning for the upcoming year. Here’s my stab at a list of the ten best resolutions for the apocalypse.
 
10. Cancel my cable subscription.
 
9. Learn how to cook over a campfire.
 
8. Convince myself that my clothes aren’t dirty—they just conform to the currently popular back-to-nature fad.
 
7. Practice movie lines that intimidated bullies.
 
6. Learn to like hot summers and cold winters.
 
5. Make a list of acceptable substitutions for toilet paper.
 
4. Expand my portable entertainment library from a single book to two.
 
3. Make friends with a big, powerful, and benevolent warlord.
 
2. Write down all the survival tips from when I played Fallout.
 
1. Improve my personal relationship with God.
 
 

            John finished his patrol of the camp perimeter and returned to the front gate. Since he was on foot he could have squeezed through the fence anywhere he wanted, but he enjoyed the extended walk. When he reached the gate his jaw nearly dropped to his chest. Christmas decorations hung from the community center and a pine tree that hadn’t been there a couple of hours ago was in the process of being decorated.
            Becky had told him she planned to organize a Decorations Committee; comprised of the children in the camp. The decorations looked pretty nice considering they were made from cardboard boxes, used year’s supply containers, and even the twigs and flower that grew in the area. Cut into Christmas shapes and painted they added a festive look to the camp.
            The children were working on decorating the tree. Bill Summers stood nearby with a huge grin, watching the excited actions of the children. It figured that Bill would find a way to provide the community with a Christmas tree. The man was resourceful.
            “What do you think?” asked Bill.
            “Amazing,” said John.
            “Just wait until you see the feast they have nearly ready inside,” said Bill, pointing to the kitchen area. A comforting assortment of delicious smells drifted on the cold December air.
            “I think I’ll go check it out,” said John. His stomach grumbled even as he thought about the turkeys that were roasting inside. Getting those turkeys was a miracle of itself; Bill had managed to find a poultry farmer and then bartered some of the wheat and vegetables grown at the camp for the holiday birds.
            John strolled through the kitchen area—under the pretense of a security sweep. The assortment of holiday foods that had been created from year’s supply items and the vegetables grown at the camp astonished him. According to the chalkboard menu on the wall the mean included turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, biscuits, refried bean soup, vegetable soup, wheat-berry salad, banana oat crumb cake, strawberry-banana-peach cobbler, and Muddy Buddies—whatever they were.
            Even though the dinner crew was slaving away in preparation of the Christmas Eve meal everyone had a smile on their face and the kitchen was filled with the excited buzz of conversation. If he didn’t know better, John wouldn’t be able to tell this gathering from a church Christmas party back home.
            “No way,” said Becky.
            “What?” John asked.
            “I know that look and you are not going to sample the food.” She wagged a finger in his direction. “You can march right out of here and save the ‘Just making sure it’s not poisoned’ routine for someone who’ll believe it.”
            Becky ushered him outside and gave him a kiss on the cheek before closing the door on John. A burst of laughter from the people inside informed John that the incident had not gone unnoticed. He grinned. Of all the things he had worried about when he was the camp director morale had been on the top of the list. How do you keep a group of people happy who have left their homes and most of their possessions behind? He still wasn’t sure, but somehow they had managed it.
            “Visitors,” a voice shouted from the front gate.
            John’s heart sank. Most of the time visitors meant trouble. He braced himself for trouble and marched to the camp entrance, wondering what sort of setback, misfortune, or disaster was headed his way.
            He spotted the sheriff’s car and a pickup driving along the dirt road to the camp. At least if the sheriff was involved he could expect some sort of support in figuring out how to handle the situation.
            Sheriff McKinney stopped in front of the gate and climbed out of his patrol car. A big smile occupied his face. He pulled off his sunglasses and walked to the back of the car. “I have something for you, John.”
            “For me or for the camp?” asked John.
            “Both.”
            John opened the gate and then strolled over to see what was in the trunk—boxes. Four cardboard boxes, sealed shut with packing tape, and addressed to John Williams at Camp Valiant. Sheriff McKinney handed him a letter. The return address listed the sender as Sierra Weintraub. John vaguely remembered the name. He opened the letter and read it.

            Mr. Williams,
            I doubt you remember me. Robert and I dated before he joined the army. My family has had to make room for my brother and his wife to move back home. During the process we ended up with several boxes of toys. I can’t imagine why you might want used items at Christmas, but I had strong feeling that I should send them to you. If I’ve learned anything from my association with Robert it has been to trust the spirit when it speaks to me. Anyway, I hope sending these old toys was a prompting of the spirit and not some defective thinking on my part. Please forgive me if sending used items is inappropriate.
            And in case you haven’t heard from him, Robert is alive and seemed in good spirits when I talked to him. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
            Sierra
           
            John’s first reaction was to wonder why Robert had called Sierra instead of the family. Then John thought about it for a moment and decided that in the same situation he’d rather call a pretty girl than a gruff old man. But this also meant that Robert’s relationship with Sierra was serious.
            “I hope that was good news,” said Sheriff McKinney.
            The statement brought John out of his thoughts. He grabbed one of the boxes in the trunk and then looked over at the pickup truck. The driver and passenger had moved to the back and let down the tailgate. “How many boxes did she send?”
            “Only four,” said McKinney. “The rest are from the people in Greenville.”
            Even though the relationship between the people in Camp Valiant and the residents of Greenville had improved over the last few months the announcement surprised John. “What?”
            “Last week,” said Sheriff McKinney, “Helena Reidhead brought your teenagers to town to carol. I think that touched a few hearts. Quite a few of the folks in town had commented on how the Christmas spirit seemed to be missing this year; with the war in Europe and all. Those young people taking the time to sing Christmas songs really improved the mood in town. Doctor Whitton figured you might be a bit short on presents this year and conducted a toy drive for the kids.”
            “I don’t know what to say,” said John.
            “How about, ‘Merry Christmas?’” 
            John laughed. “Merry Christmas to you and to everyone in Greenville.”
            Bill Summers showed up with a couple of the work crew members and helped carry the boxes into the warehouse, working right along-side the two Greenville citizens. The scene showed just how much the relationship with the town had changed in the last six months.
            Becky invited the sheriff to stay for some hot cocoa, but he begged off, stating that he had plenty of sheriff things to do back in town. They climbed back into their vehicles and drove off towards town.
            As he watched them leave, John couldn’t shake the sappy feeling that this was the best Christmas ever. Not because they received all the presents they wanted, not because they watched all their favorite Christmas movies, and not because Santa was coming to town. This was the best because the parts of what makes Christmas what it is had more meaning this year than they ever had before. It took the apocalypse to strip away the commercialism attached to the holiday and celebrate with true Christmas spirit.
 
            Merry Christmas everyone.

            Sierra sighed as she turned off the radio. Was a little Christmas music too much to expect this time of year? It was bad enough the economy had forced her family to all live under one roof again, but listening to all the gory details of the latest school massacre wasn’t helping her mood.
            At least most of her stuff was already packed and stored in the garage from her move back home earlier in the year. Now, they just had to make room for her brothers, Dale and Hunter, and Hunter’s wife. Six adults in a three-bedroom house; things were going to be cramped until their economic situation improved.
            She took the baseball and gloves from on top of the dresser and placed them in a box along with the rest of her brother’s toys that Mom had kept around in anticipation of visits from grandchildren. Of course, that hadn’t happened yet. The room had remained relatively unchanged since Dale and Hunter had both moved out as adults.
            This Christmas season should feel like old times with everyone reunited in the family home, but it didn’t. Hunter was sleeping on the couch and shared a dresser with Sierra. Both of those facts of life were continuing reminders that all was not well with the world. It was even worse when Sierra went to work. Her coworkers and the customers seldom smiled and none of them sang or whistled Christmas tunes. The war in Europe, the assassination of the President, and even the horrible weather all conspired to make this a Christmas to file away under bad memories, like the blind date she had with Cory Keats in tenth-grade.
            The last of her brother’s childhood toys were boxed in preparation of Dale and Stacy’s arrival later in the week. If Sierra could only figure out what to do with them. The garage was nearly full and still had to hold the stuff Dale and Stacy planned to. Maybe she could find out where the nearest Goodwill store was located and drop off all the boxes the family had sorted into the can-do-without category.
            The phone rang in the kitchen. As soon as she heard the ring she had the feeling that the call was for her. It was weird how that happened—you sensed a call was for you and then it turned out that it was. Sierra couldn’t image who might be calling since she didn’t really know anyone in the area. She raced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, snagging the phone just as her mother reached for the receiver.
            “Hello,” she said, giving her mother a big you’re-too-slow smile.
            “Could I speak with Sierra, please?”
            “Robert?” It sounded like Robert. Sierra hoped that she wasn’t imagining it sounded like Robert because she missed him so much. It’d been weeks since his last letter. She cried at night, worried he died during the big battle in Italy. Voice trembling and unable to breathe, she asked, “Is that you, Robert?”
            “Wow,” said Robert. “It feels great to hear your voice.”
            Tears flowed down Sierra’s cheeks. Robert was alive. Between sobs of joy she said, “I’m . . . so . . . . glad . . . you called.”
            “Are you kidding? I had to wish my girl a Merry Christmas.”
            “Merry Christmas.” Sierra wiped tears from her face. She had dozens of questions for him and hung on his every answer, trying to picture herself with Robert as he described what had happened to him in Europe. A short ten-minutes later Robert announced that he needed to end the call. Visiting hours were over and Gil, whose phone Robert was using, had to leave. They told each other goodbye and the line went dead.
            “Sweetie, can you help me move some of the boxes around in the garage?” Sierra’s mother asked.
            It took over an hour for her mother to decided which boxes she wanted stacked on top of what other boxes, but Sierra didn’t mind. She hummed Christmas carols as she worked. Then as she carried the box of toys from her brother’s old room an idea popped into her head.
            After making sure her mother didn’t need anything else reorganized, Sierra grabbed the items the family planned to discard and drove to the post office. She labeled the boxes and used the last of the available money in her checking account to pay the postage to ship them to Camp Valiant.
            As the postal workers prepared to seal the boxes with packaging tape, Sierra scribbled a quick letter to Robert’s father. Boxes sealed and postage paid, the woman behind the counter used a handcart to roll the packages to the back of the post office. A sense of peace washed over Sierra as she watched the packages start their journey.
            Sierra didn’t know how the children at Camp Valiant would react to receiving used toys, but at least she knew how it made her feel to send them. It felt like Christmas.