As a group we were shoved along by helmeted soldiers in full battle regalia. The scene was reminiscent of cattle being coerced to go through spring gates in order to be auctioned off at a livestock yard.
In the pandemonium of panicked voices and unsteady constitutions my eyes found the old man, who turns out had only been too prophetic in his thoughts, only now to see that he didn't look good. In fact he looked downright awful!
He saw me and lifted a hand beckoningly. I fought my way through the press to get to him.
He went down and shoving my way through I knelt down beside him. I was pretty sure the man was having a heart attack.
The skin of his hands was clammy as he pressed his briefcase luggage piece at me with desperate resolve. His voice rasping heavily he said, "Take it and protect yourself! Sabotage if you can. Code 1-3-9-7-0-4."
The old man was drifting away fast, but his eyes flared once more and grasping my arm he said, "I believe in Jesus! Not sure about what you said today dear, but soon I will know."
Nodding my head vigorously as I clutched onto the man's hand I said, "Yes you will!"
He nodded as he said with his eyes closing, "So good to see someone young in these last days who is yet passionate for my Savior. May He bless and keep you always."
I was shoved hard by a soldier and had no choice but to let go of the old man's hand. Before I was pushed too far along though I snagged the thick briefcase with a foot and sent it sliding further ahead.
Scrambling a few feet away from the soldier wall steadily advancing behind me, I snatched it up and hurrying forward I pushed my way into the back of the pack as I had no desire to be the first in this mad push of humanity or the last.
A massive loading bay opened up and people were scattered apart and pulled toward giant screw looking ships that were poised upright over shimmery portals on the floor of the hanger. It felt like I had suddenly left the comforts of reality behind and entered a world of science fiction.
*****
The upright cigar shaped vessels were massive and the hanger bay was a-flood with activity of all kinds. Troops were pouring into the farthest cigar shaped vessels, while supplies and tech type people were disappearing into the ones closer to me.
A soldier grabbed me by the upper arm and pulled me roughly toward one cigar vessel off to the right. Everything about his manner was offensive. In a way it seemed as if all the soldiers around me moved within a rather mindless stupor that made them seem more like cattle dogs than human men.