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An Explanation from the Author:  Some of my readers have questioned the use of some foul language in this book. In explanation I must say that the rapture has occurred - we now have only the unbeliever in the world. If you have comments after reading this short selection - or the entire book please e-mail  the Author:

This story was written for the secular world!
E. Forrest Hein

To The Reader
This story is true - events will unfold that will prove its veracity.
The names of the characters and places are fictitious.
Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
Dates have been chosen arbitrarily to coincide with the days of the week and time of the year and are not meant to be predictive of future events.

1 - Crisis - 1
Sunday Morning 0548 Hours
YOU MIGHT SAY THAT CRISIS was Emanuel Burgarino's middle name.  He thrived on it.  But today, as his short legs negotiated the back stairs at the White House, one too many crises had surfaced. Clearing the first floor landing a voice stopped his descent to the lower level and the passageway that led to the West Wing Situation Room, located in the basement.
"Hey Mannie, did you get the Pres?"  The questioner was Emory Prescott, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, a four star general.
"Yes, I caught him in his jogging suit," the portly press secretary replied, breathlessly.  "He said he'd join us at 0600.  Did you get hold of Quince and Adams?"
"The Vice President is on his way, but Adams didn't answer his phone. I've got the operators trying to track him down at State."  The General joined the press secretary on the stairs, "Jesus, would you believe it," he scoffed, "Old Donny Boy wanted me to brief him on the phone, he said he had an early morning golf game and wanted to know if this thing was really important.  The whole world is falling apart and our VP wants to know if it's important."
"It's a good thing you didn't say anything.  He'd probably spill the beans to Madelyn and before long; Papa in Evansville would have it all over the front page.  It's best we keep this quiet until we really know what's happening."  Mannie's reporter's instincts told him, this was not a routine story.
Neither man thought much of John Barry's choice for Vice President. Donald Quince's grasp of the obvious was often less than spectacular and his inability to communicate verbally at times left both of them speechless.  Yet, somehow he had managed to catch the imagination of the President, a man who had known the humility of the second-class position when he was Vice President.  As a result Quince was included in every important presidential meeting, and occasionally was given responsibilities that outreached his talents.
Quince was blessed with a wife of exceptional capability.  Madelyn was only daughter of newspaper publisher Howard Preminger II, heir with her brother to the Preminger fortune. Her father was the great-grandson of the original founder of the Evansville Star Tribune, a Midwestern daily that became the cornerstone of the Preminger Empire, a nationwide network of conservative radio stations and newspapers.  Whether by genetics or otherwise Madelyn was dealt a full deck of cards and she had the good sense to know how to play them.  Without Madelyn, Donald was nothing, and he knew it.
John Barry thoroughly enjoyed his job.  With almost boyish enthusiasm he relished the pomp and ceremony that surrounded the office, the helicopters, Air Force One, and the attention of the press, that institution that could turn on you with a moment's notice, pouncing on every inconsistency or impropriety.  Occasionally a childish giddiness would overtake the chief executive that was difficult to conceal.  Even during the most serious moments, as he faced the television cameras and the two hundred fifty million viewers and voters they represented, a slight smile would appear at the corners of his mouth, betraying the innermost fact that he was a like a kid on the throne, the President of the world's most powerful nation.  It was in one of these playful moods, early in his presidency, that he attached the moniker "Donny Boy" to Donald Quince.  It was not unusual for him to enter a meeting room singing a tune that reflected his optimistic attitude towards life, the world and circumstances, and on that particular day he had entered a meeting crooning "Oh, Donny Boy," to the tune Danny Boy.  From that time on John Barry referred, affectionately, to the Vice President in that way.  The White House staff members were quick to use that name in their private references, and out of earshot of Donald Quince.

The book is available  from the publisher using this toll free number 1-800-381-2665 or order The Ruach Project from Barnes & Noble.

An Explanation from the Author: and 1 - Crisis - 1 -

 2 - The Call - 2 -  

3 - The Wind - 3 -

Any comments please e-mail  the Author