The leaders of the Union for Peace soon realized that a powerful underground had grown up that could not be manipulated by the controlled media. Despite all their efforts to infiltrate and block efforts of the Christian Resistance, they were powerless to crush it.

Thwarting their attempts was the fact that, by this time in history, more than sixty million households in the United States alone had personal computers, most equipped with modems and color fax capabilities. These computers, in turn, were connected via the Internet to tens of thousands of World Wide Web sites, site-based servers, networks, and home/office machines. For a police state to silence such an enormous network of interconnected data links, computers, copiers, facsimile machines, and printers, it would first have to totally disrupt its own means of communications. And that was not an option.

To be sure, some people in the resistance could be arrested and tortured. Some were. Some data links could be monitored and shut down. Some were. But all the ingenuity of Satan himself could not block the flow of truth to those who wanted to hear it. However, the flow of truth from the Voice of the Mountains and the Christian Resistance had no effect on those who determined in their hearts to cherish the lie instead of the truth.

As repression grew more intense across the continent of North America, but before the massive road checkpoints appeared, families used what liberty they still had left to rent trucks and trailers and head to enclaves throughout the country where Christians had gathered. Lori’s parents and sister, as well as Carl’s mother, were safely ensconced in just such an enclave.

As the months passed, John Edwards’s tiny household swelled to more than ten thousand people. John was alternately delighted at the prospect of helping so many people, yet horrified at the thought of providing them with safe drinking water, food, and shelter over a very long period of time.

Fortunately, many of the arrivals came with motor homes, RVs, tents, and trailers. He now had thousands of willing workers, but where could he find the large equipment to build adequate long-term accommodations for so many?

Then, one of those unexplained “accidents” happened, which had now become a routine part of life at El Refugio. Manuel and Cathy had driven into Albuquerque to pick up some electronic components. As they parked the pickup and started into the store, Manuel turned around abruptly and almost knocked down a soldier wearing fatigues and walking hurriedly down the sidewalk. As Manuel steadied himself and tried to catch the other man before he fell, he saw the three stars on his lapels. He recognized him as the officer who had helped him so long ago—Archie Gladstone.

“General Gladstone,” he said, “please forgive me. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

The general shrugged, “That’s okay. Not your fault.”