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The Tenth Plague: A Clean Christian Thriller
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THE TENTH PLAGUE
NORTH WOODS CHRONICLES: BOOK 2
ADAM BLUMER
PRAISE FOR ADAM’S BOOKS
“Fatal Illusions is an engaging, fast-paced read with a captivating story line that grabs you from page one and doesn’t let go. Highly recommended.”
—Mark Mynheir, homicide detective and author of The Corruptible
“Every now and then I find an author whose voice I immediately fall in love with. Adam Blumer is one of those authors. In Fatal Illusions he weaves a tale so spellbinding and gripping I couldn't wait to turn the next page. With characters I could identify with, a killer who had me looking over my shoulder, and an ending full of twists and surprises . . . just like that, I'm an Adam Blumer fan!”
—Mike Dellosso, author of Scream and Midnight Is My Time
“A chilling tale that keeps readers turning pages and pondering its truths. The Tenth Plague is a solid entry in Adam Blumer’s bibliography.”
—C. J. Darlington, author of Thicker than Blood and Bound by Guilt
“Suspense of biblical proportions! Adam Blumer does a masterful job transforming the biblical plagues to a modern-day scenario full of twists and turns that will keep you riveted until the very end.”
—Bonnie S. Calhoun, author of Cooking the Books
“Kill Order is a fast-paced, masterfully written psychological thriller with surprising twists and turns that will keep readers engaged until the very last page. I highly recommend it!”
—Nancy Mehl, best-selling author of Dead End
“With Kill Order, Blumer delivers another high-concept, high-stakes thriller. With an expansive cast and an intricate plot, readers will find themselves on a relentless ride that races forward to the final page. Fans of Dean Koontz's thrillers will like this novel. But Kill Order offers even more: a look into responsibility and guilt, culpability and fear.”
—Aaron Gansky, author of The Bargain and Who Is Harrison Sawyer?
CONTENTS
Prologue
I. The Writing on the Wall
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
II. Buried in the Past
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
III. Lord of the Flies
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Tenth Plague by Adam Blumer
Published by Meaningful Suspense Press
Copyright © 2013, 2016, 2022 by Adam Blumer
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7337134-3-6
Edited by Elizabeth Vince, Abigail Stocker
Cover design by GetCovers.com
For more information about this book or the author, visit adamblumerbooks.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination and are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
“Lord, I Need You,” lyrics by Ron Hamilton. © Copyright 1988 by Majesty Music, Inc. Used by permission.
For my father
Larry Dean Blumer
June 7, 1940–August 17, 2011
Greatly loved, sorely missed
Finally at peace
Each morning puts a man on trial and each evening passes judgment.
—Roy L. Smith
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.
—Romans 8:1
PROLOGUE
November 3, 1926
Near Ishpeming, Michigan
On the morning from his worst nightmares, twenty-two-year-old Rutherford Wills woke early, the frigid world outside his window still dark, and slipped noiselessly out of bed to avoid waking Bruna, his wife of only two months. He hated to leave her side, her warm body close to his, but he was a married man now with obligations to fulfill and bills to pay.
God granted no clues that this day would be different from any other.
Wills reported for the day shift at the Barnes-Hecker Mine and entered the crowded electric elevator or “cage” for the ride down the 1,060-foot shaft to the second level. It was 7:20 a.m. on a Wednesday.
As Wills descended into the earth, he wondered what life on the surface would be like today. Now that Halloween was past, the weather had turned cold. Were early snow predictions true? Would he later rise to a world of white?
At eight hundred feet, the elevator jerked to a halt, and Wills followed a dozen trammers, stemmers, timbermen, and pumpmen into the second of three levels. His hardhat’s carbide lamp chased away subterranean shadows, and the ever-present aroma of damp earth filled his nostrils. In the distance echoed the staccato blows of pneumatic drills, the hiss of compressed air, and the rumble of explosives.
He followed the pebbly corridor toward the electric haulage locomotive that pulled cars loaded with iron ore down the three-thousand-foot tunnel to the main shaft. There they were emptied through chutes into a “skip” or cable car that raised the ore to the surface.
Wills took his seat at what everyone referred to as the “motor” and glanced at Jack Hanna, his twenty-three-year-old brakeman. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” The work garb, baggy on Hanna’s skinny body, was stained ore-red.
“What’s it been now—four weeks?”
“Nope. Three.”
“Well, for only bein’ on the job three weeks, I’d say you’re catchin’ on pretty fast.”
Hanna ducked his head with a shy grin and glanced away.
Wills started the engine, and the motor jerked forward. Electric lights strung along the tunnel’s ceiling at regular intervals illumined their way like glimmers of hope in an otherwise dismal world. No one had any idea their hope was about to run out.
Wills checked his watch as a light swept past. 11:20 a.m. He yelled to Hanna over the locomotive’s roar. “How about one more trip before we break for lunc
h?”
Hanna nodded, his face grimy from the ever-present dust permeating every crack and crevice of the place. Soon their fifty coworkers would ride the elevator to the surface for lunch. Perhaps if they hustled, they could beat the noon rush.
From somewhere deep in the tunnel above them, the muffled blast of explosives rumbled. Wills assumed his fellow miners were blasting one last time before lunch. When they returned later, the next load of ore would be ready and waiting for them.
Wills engaged the motor, and the locomotive lurched forward. During each interval between the lights, shadows swung over them like drapes of perpetual night.
A minute later, Hanna raised his hand and braked hard. The locomotive lurched to a halt. Hanna clambered off and dashed to the closest car, which was almost overflowing with large, reddish chunks of iron ore.
Wills dismounted and strode toward his friend, wondering what could be so important that it would interrupt their trip. “What’s wrong, Jack?”
Hanna searched the pieces of ore. “I noticed something strange when they loaded the cars. I thought I saw—”
A sudden gust of air swept through the tunnel and blasted them like the rush of wind in the wake of a storm. The two men exchanged puzzled glances. The look in Hanna’s brown eyes was unmistakable.
What was that?
Seconds later, another blast of air—this one stronger than the first—knocked them to their knees on the damp, rocky floor and extinguished the carbide lamps on their helmets. Thankfully the ceiling lights still glowed.
Wills scrambled to his feet and groped for the tunnel wall, heart drumming in his chest. “Come on! Let’s get out of here!”
Distant thunder rumbled. It drew closer and increased in intensity until it was suddenly upon them. The tunnel bucked under their feet.
Wills gasped and huddled against the craggy wall with Hanna, dread clawing like a live thing in his belly. He recalled the recent muffle of explosives. Had the first level caved in?
The underground thunder faded in the distance, the tunnel still intact. A sudden change in air pressure plugged Wills’ ears, and he swallowed hard to clear them. Then something from his worst nightmares came true.
The ceiling lights flickered, brightened, then died. A total eclipse swallowed them whole.
“Rutherford!” Hanna’s panicked voice sliced the darkness. “W—what’s happening? Where are you?”
Wills gripped his friend’s arm. He tried to sound brave, though his legs were trembling. “I’m right in front of you.”
Another growl, this one deafening, pealed through their world. Wills pressed his hands over his hears and imagined a freight train bearing down on their heads. How long did they have before the tunnel caved in and crushed them like bugs underfoot?
“God help us!” Hanna cried.
Wills’ skin prickled in a cold sweat. Without electricity, they couldn’t escape on the locomotive. “Come on, follow me.”
Wills stumbled forward, arms outstretched like a blind man, in the direction of the main shaft. He managed to discern the right direction by the feel of the narrow-gauge track against his rubber-toed boots. He debated taking the ladder down to the third level and seeking refuge in the concrete pump house, but the voice in his gut rebelled.
Climb to the surface. Get out. Now!
He neared the main shaft opening, where an avalanche of water, mud, and rock streamed down from above. A prick of fear touched his nerves. Could they even escape through the main shaft? How long before the rising tide of water and mud filled the tunnels and then the shaft?
Wills yelled to Joseph Mankee, the second-level cage operator who’d been best man at his wedding. “Joe, are you there?”
“I’m here!” came the anxious shout.
“Come on, we gotta get out of here!”
Without electricity, the elevator wouldn’t budge. Wills reached the manhole and clambered onto the emergency ladder, peering upward. Amazingly, he saw it—a tiny light marked the four-by-four surface opening eight hundred feet above. As long as the light remained, they had a way out. But how much time did they have? He shoved the question aside and began to climb.
The thunder petered off to a relentless growl. More muck rained down from above and slid down Wills’ helmet, cascading down his arms. His gloves became slick with mud, and the ladder rungs grew slippery.
Once, he lost his grip, but he regained his hold just in time. He jerked his gloves off with his teeth and flung them to the void before pressing on. His thighs burned, and air burst from his lungs in explosive gasps.
Two hundred feet higher, still six hundred feet from the surface, he reached the first-level tunnel.
“Kirby, get out!” he shouted to the level’s cage and bell signal operator.
He had no idea if Thomas Kirby even heard him, but he pressed on, gritting his teeth against the burning in his legs. With the steady rumble came a new sound. The rush of water, mud, and debris was filling the shaft. How long before the rising tide reached him?
Something massive plummeted toward Wills out of the dark. Its blast of air buffeted him, its mass missing him by mere inches. The unseen rock slammed into the ladder somewhere below his feet with an earsplitting crash. The impact almost tore him from the rungs.
Hanna, Mankee, and Kirby shrieked. Their cries were suddenly cut off as if they’d been crushed by the rock or overtaken by the rising flood.
Wills gasped, his body trembling. He yelled their names, but his friends didn’t answer. He knew he’d share their fate if he didn’t press on.
A torrential flood rose and drew ever closer. Wills recalled the muffled explosion before his race with Hanna to the ladder. Had the blast ripped open an underground lake?
A raging whirlpool swirled around his boots and hungrily licked up his legs. Icy muck rose to his waist.
Wills pressed on in a panic and worked his arms and legs like pistons. The level rose almost as quickly as he could climb.
He was panting so hard he thought his heart might explode. His thighs and calves screamed at him to stop, but he couldn’t stop. There wasn’t time—he had to keep moving.
He tried not to think about the pain. Tried to focus on Bruna and on the years they would share together. If only he could reach the top alive.