Critical Interference: The Sentinel Saga, #2

By Daryl J. Koerth

War is on the horizon. It's getting closer by the day, and seems unavoidable. This may be the big one.

 

The Sentinel is in pursuit of his second target: a mysterious person who makes deliberate changes to history by doing nefarious things, up to and including fomenting and perpetuating wars.

 

Coincidence? Doubtful. The clock is ticking.

 

If the Sentinel can't unravel and counter these troublesome activities in time, the world may be lost in a nuclear winter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rockin' K Publishers LLC
• Release date: Sep 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959282068

Book preview

Prologue

The world is in quite a fix right now.

Sadly, this has been coming for a long time, and the average person – even the politically interested and active – has been blind to the big picture. It’s a big, complicated (maybe over-complicated) plan that’s been tried several times. Each time it’s tried, the timeline gets longer.

This time, the plan’s been in motion for nearly a century.

Not a joke.

What’s the plan? I’m so glad you asked. Buckle up, because it’s gonna be a rough ride.

The plan is based on the mistaken notion that humanity got a raw deal back in the Garden of Eden. See, God created man and woman and lots of awesome plants, animals, and other things, and was teaching the immortal man and woman about His Creation, love, and wisdom. Humanity chose to eat a fruit they were specifically told not to eat, and in doing so, created death.

That’s right: humanity made death a thing, not God. He warned them. They didn’t listen. Ever since then, humanity has been trying to control a world they don’t understand – and each other – in an attempt to regain immortality and challenge God for the authority to rule life, death, His Creation, and whatever power they could seize.

Wait. This is about religion?

Yep. Religion, spirituality, et cetera. This is about humanity’s foolish denial of God, creation, and all that follows. This is about humanity scrambling to fill a void we have philosophically created, while denying its existence.

This plan is very old and has been tried many times. It goes all the way back to the original city of Babylon, when humans challenged God by first insisting that there were several gods, then by building a tower to reach the heavens. God himself stopped that nonsense by collapsing the tower, confusing language, and scattering people. You’d think we would learn from something that dramatic.

You’d be wrong.

People have been trying variations of this model for thousands of years and on different scales. Sometimes it’s contained to a single family’s home, sometimes to a small group of friends. Every now and again, though, humanity becomes unbelievably arrogant and exalts itself to the place of God. That’s when the really bad stuff happens. Stuff like genocide. People always point to Hitler as an example of this – which is totally appropriate – but he wasn’t the only one. Mao Zedong. Pol Pot. Josef Stalin. Several African dictators and warlords. People bent on doing evil have always been around. They all have their own reasons. None of them are valid.

Evil should never be tolerated.

I found out that the plan, this time around, has something to do with the Georgia Guidestones, although I think that monument is a sort of recruiting tool. It’s about starting a civil war, then a global war, with the goal of reducing the world’s population below 500 million and ruling that populace with an iron fist. It’s not nice at all.

Essentially, it’s about destroying our humanity and denying God.

I refuse to allow that.

For more than a year now, I have been the Sentinel: a human being who has learned how to travel around the world and through time to witness and record the truth about history. I live in Eden. I have an awesome mentor. I was trained in nonlethal combat by an angel. I have a wolf puppy that I’ve been training as my companion. I have some amazing friends who have agreed to help despite the danger.

I am not a superhero.

I’m just a human being. Just a dude. I was a soldier, a martial artist, a carpenter, and many other things...until, for some unknown reason, I died. Briefly. I was offered this job, accepted it, and got shocked back to life.

I spent months chasing down some very big lies and identifying the liars responsible for spreading those lies in furtherance of this endgame. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I didn’t learn about this endgame until the plan’s implementation was already very far along. I marked the liars, and started a blog to expose them and their lies.

As of now, it’s a waiting game. I continue to write the blog. I train, both physically and mentally. There are still four other roles that I must find a way to counter: the propheteers, the assassin, the interferer, and the advocate. I still don’t know which one(s) will get involved next.

To be perfectly honest, it’s driving me crazy being on edge this long.

It’s been months.

Even my pup wants something to do beyond his usual mix of training and playtime. I think he feels the tension building up inside of me, just like it’s building up between people and nations all over the world.

Chapter 1

My day started with a wolf’s cold, wet nose booping my forehead.

I couldn’t help but smile. Ryan, I said, I really need to teach you how to talk like a human, bro.

Ryan gave a happy chuffing sound. I opened my eyes and saw him sitting a few feet away, his pink tongue lolling out of one side of his open mouth. He had grown considerably and filled out. He was well-muscled, lean and strong with a full dark brown coat and soulful eyes the color of dark honey.

Seeing the expression on his happy face, I was forcibly reminded that he was also a colossal dork.

I laughed and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. He rushed forward for morning hugs and pets, burying his head in my neck. He really was a great companion. I felt very blessed to have him in my life.

After dressing, I made a simple breakfast of oatcakes, eggs, and breakfast sausage. Ryan got some venison meat and organs, vegetables, and the last of the oats. Today was a farming day, when I would harvest food. I needed my strength and endurance without being slowed down by a food coma.

We spent the morning tracking and harvesting and cleaning a deer and two feral hogs. We spent the afternoon between a small field of oats and my garden. By the time all of the fresh food was put away, it was evening. Time for dinner.

Ryan and I were both hungry.

Smoke was coming from the cabin’s chimney, which meant Sam was inside, cooking. That was a little surprising. Sam had been somewhat scarce over the past several months. I think that was intentional. I needed the time to read through the library, learn more about the true history of humanity, train myself and Ryan, and get into something like a normal routine. In a lot of ways, it had been very good for me.

The only thing that really bothered me was the tension. I knew something was happening, and I felt a deep need to act. Maybe it was just built into my personality.

Sam walked out of the kitchen with two bowls of hearty soup as we walked into the cabin. He smiled a wide grin and greeted me with, Hello, Sentinel! He set the bowls of soup on the table and knelt down to greet the frantically happy Ryan, who was standing at his feet with a dopey grin and a tail wagging so hard that his whole backside was moving, with pets and praise.

He might be rapidly growing into a majestic wolf, but he would leap over the moon and sweep the floor with his tail for a hug.

Goofus. I should have named him Goofus.

All I could do was shake my head and smile...until it dawned on me that Sam had greeted me with my title. My smile vanished and the tension returned. Hi, Sam, I said, walking around the table to greet him with a handshake. What’s with the formality?

When he saw my face, his smile melted. I’m sorry, he said with a sigh. I sometimes forget how observant you are, Jimmy. He met my eyes, and I could see the tension now. I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but Stephen will join us for dinner with news.

I’m here, said Stephen, opening the front door and coming into the cabin. Soldiers call it intelligence, Sam, or ‘intel.’ He already knows it’s serious. You’re not softening the blow by calling it news.

I do appreciate the effort, though, I told Sam. He nodded and gave a tired smile before returning to the kitchen to fetch another bowl of soup and a fresh loaf of bread. After shaking Stephen’s hand, we sat at the table. Sam said a blessing, and we ate. I noticed that the drinks were just glasses of water. It must be bad news. I made sure to finish the whole glass.

When we were finished eating, Sam brought out three cups of his special coffee. I had asked him for the recipe, but so far he had not divulged it. It contained some kind of subtle spice blend that was warming without tasting weird or overpowering. I had tried several combinations, but had not yet figured it out.

The liars are about to make a move, Stephen said. They’re not happy about your blog and the exposure it’s given them. Lately, the talking heads on Capitol Hill have been talking about censorship, in three parts. They’ve asked the big tech companies to help with censoring social media and the internet at large. You already know they exert control over the media when they want. That’s ramping up. They’re also talking in vague terms about censoring actual speech, though they get a lot of push-back from the public on that one.

My blog, I said.

Is fine, Stephen said. Between your little code traps and Randy’s network rope o’ dope, they’re scared to go near it. They don’t know how to bring it down. However, they are fed up with it being spread across social media. They’re sending a team to install some fancy artificial intelligence thing that will automate censorship.

Where? I asked. The big social media companies utilized server farms all over the globe to handle all of the traffic and storage requirements. Still, that kind of powerful networking needed a central hub.

California, Stephen said.

Of course. They would keep the hubs close to headquarters.

You’ll need help, Stephen said.

Are you geared up? I asked, just itching to do something. The tension was now palpable. This was big.

Stephen put his hands up in front of him. I can’t go, he said. My cover would be blown.

My jaw tightened. Angeline? I asked.

Stephen shook his head slowly. She’s working on something else, he said. "If you really need her, just call and she should be able to help."

Then what kind of help are you talking about? I asked.

A networking expert, he said.

Randy, I said. Stephen nodded. When are they planning the attack?

Tonight, he said.

I looked out the window at the falling darkness and couldn’t sit still anymore. I stood up, shook his hand, said, Thank you, and walked briskly to my room to change. Black tactical clothing, my extendable batons, and a few other accoutrements made for appropriate gear.

Ryan was sitting in my bedroom doorway with a resolute expression. I could tell he wanted to go, but I couldn’t let him. This would be a dangerous mission. I couldn’t risk him. I would protect him, and that might get someone else hurt. I knelt down and hugged him. I’m sorry, boy, I said softly. I can’t take you with me. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

He whined, but booped my forehead before burying his head in my neck. I will, I promised. I’ll be careful and come home safe. I said it...but I felt a twisty sensation in my gut that told me I might be missing something important.

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When Randy and I arrived at the building that housed the West coast server farm of one of the most popular social media platforms in the world, I took one look at the security door – forcibly opened and held open with the corpse of a poor security guard – I knew we were already late. We needed to move quickly.

Walking as quickly and quietly as we could, Randy found an open port and connected his laptop. He had to do some quick and dirty hacking to login with the right level of access, then start searching the local network for an unknown artificial intelligence algorithm. I knew it was difficult, because he was sweating. He was typing very, very fast, and it was making an uncomfortable amount of noise.

That’s when the gunfire started.

I deflected one bullet straight up into the ceiling. Good thing I had been ready with the batons. I sent three more bullets back toward the gunman. One of those hit him in the left leg, and he went down.

Did you get it? I asked Randy.

Randy shook his head no. Too late, he said. It’s already in the system and propagating around the world. He looked frightened, angry, and ready to run.

More gunfire rang out, this time from three gunmen: one at one end of the row where the first man was rolling on the floor and moaning, and two men on the other end of the row. My batons were whirling and whistling. Bullets were flying everywhere. Randy was waiting for leadership.

I made an executive decision. I called out to him to follow me, and we charged the single gunman as everyone reloaded. I slapped him hard in the gut with my right baton, once, as we passed him and ran for the exit.

There was one last man standing outside the door. Randy swept his legs as we ran, taking him down. We laughed and high-fived as we sprinted for the darkness…

...and then came two thunderous claps. Randy gave a grunt and stumbled. I felt a hard punch in my right shoulder and spun. We were both falling in slow motion. Angeline! Help! I yelled. The world around me just blinked, and we were in the cabin.

I turned to Angeline, who looked like she was ready to punch someone, and asked her, Can you please go get Abby? She nodded and disappeared.

Sam came over to me and inspected my shoulder. What are you doing? I asked him, a little roughly. Please take care of Randy first.

You are in far more grievous pain, said Sam, his expression concerned.

I pulled away and pointed to Randy’s wounded leg while meeting Sam’s eyes. "That man is like my own brother, and his wound is my fault. Please, I pleaded, take care of him first. I can take the pain."

The tears on my cheeks must have convinced him. He walked to Randy, sat down at the bedside, and began examining the hole in Randy’s