Brand-New Christian Thriller:

Leviathan Rising: Alaska-Based Christian Survival Thriller

Although Avram had been riding these same tracks for over eight decades, he always experienced that inimitable sense of awe and wonder when his train burst into the open air to cross the Manhattan Bridge. The city sprawled ahead of him, magnificent monuments testifying to the achievements of man, while soft clouds sprinkled with hints of pink held watch over the early Saturday commuters.

His wife Doris had always reveled in the view of the city, but Avram loved the sunrise.

He let out a contented breath, thankful for the Lord’s grace and favor on this beautiful morning. Thankful that he still had his health. Of course, he’d grown deaf in both ears, walked with a cane (more like shuffled, really), and his hands trembled so hard he could no longer turn the pages of his worn Bible. In spite of everything, he was blessed. His eyes could still take in the beautiful sights of the city. He could sit here on this subway train and worship the Lord with his whole heart. He could meet his brother-in-law Jeff for a cup of weak coffee and a few games of chess, a Shabbat ritual that was one of his favorite parts of his week.

Ever since his darling wife had gone home to be with her Savior, Jeff was the only other one of Avram’s relatives who also worshiped Jesus Christ as Messiah. Their friendship and love for one another ran deeper than family or tradition or even blood. The commute was long but peaceful. Even though he wasn’t at church or in a synagogue, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his yarmulke. This train might be a little dirty, a little rundown, and a far cry from what most would consider holy, but for Avram, it was a sanctuary.

By the time the train crossed into Manhattan and resumed its underground course, he was deep in prayer. Thanking God for those forty-one glorious years he’d shared with Doris by his side, the one true love of his life and the one who first introduced him to Christ. Rejoicing that he had been raised in a family that cherished and honored the Scriptures, even though his Messianic conversion had caused cracks to splinter through the previously solid foundation of his tight-knit community.

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He prayed for his relatives to come to a saving faith as he had. He prayed for the president and the nation of Israel and for world leaders to be blessed with wisdom and discernment. He prayed for his neighbor, a young widow who’d been struggling ever since her son took a new job and relocated to the West Coast. And when he felt all prayed out, he turned his attention to the other passengers riding in his car beside him. For the group of college-aged girls, still dressed up from a Friday night out, he prayed for safety and health and assurance of God’s love. For the businessman in an expensive suit gesturing wildly while he yelled into his phone, he prayed for grace and calm and salvation.

While the train sped along, Avram lifted a blessing for each individual, from the mother in a hijab comforting a fussy toddler to the waitress holding a cup from one of those fancy coffee places he was always too confused by to order from. The world had changed so much that now even ordering a simple cup of coffee required a master’s degree or some kind of fancy app. Avram wasn’t even certain what an app was. He just knew it had something to do with folks’ cells. Avram patted his pocket, where he carried the smartphone he had no idea how to use. He traveled with it because his daughter was afraid he’d fall and break his hip again and not be able to call anyone for help.

Truth be told, Avram figured the cell radiation was a greater danger than a hypothetical fall, but he loved his daughter and didn’t want her to worry. Now his focus shifted to the family he and Doris had raised and the children and grandchildren Avram could never keep track of. Still, he prayed for each and every one of them, by name when he could recall it and by thought alone when he couldn’t.

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He was so invested in his prayers that it took him some time to react when the lights in the car flickered then dimmed, and bodies lurched forward when the train suddenly stopped.

Well, if the subway was running late, that must mean that God wanted Avram to take more time to pray.

Maybe there was someone here Avram hadn’t fully interceded for. Lord, show me who it is.

But his prayer was cut short when everything happened at once: A burst of light, a concussive force, then the businessman with the headset slumped over in his seat, blood splattering on the window beside him. The college students throwing their purses away from them as if they contained venomous snakes. The horrified gesticulation of the young mother as she desperately swatted at a flame dancing on her hijab.

And smoke. So much smoke.

He couldn’t hear the screams of his fellow passengers but felt their panic. They were underground, trapped in the dark. Was there a fire extinguisher? Sprinklers? He had to call for help. He reached for the phone in his pants pocket, and that’s when he felt the blood. That’s when he realized that his hip, replaced over a decade ago by a skilled young surgeon, wasn’t a hip anymore but a horrible, gaping hole. Heat spilled from his extremities, or at least what was left of them.

Avram’s last thought was that if this truly was his time to go, he was more than ready to meet his Savior and once more see his beloved Doris face to face.

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