This is Paperback format.
A Thrilling Christian Dystopian Adventure
When hope dies, who will carry the light?
After the shocking events at Empyrean Enterprises, Kelly finds herself investigating mysteries that stretch far deeper than corporate corruption—while 400 years in the future, Kaden discovers that surviving The Tower was only the beginning.
Mysteriously connected across two worlds and two lifetimes, they must navigate both 21st-century conspiracies and a dystopian future where betrayal lurks in every shadow. As ancient secrets surface and the enigmatic Beth-ell reveals that Kaden's inner light connects him to something far greater than himself, both timelines face a terrifying truth: Pinnacle's hunger grows stronger, and the line between ally and enemy blurs beyond recognition.
With Elites hunting survivors through underground tunnels and shocking family connections coming to light, Kaden and Kelly race toward a climactic confrontation that will determine whether humanity's last hope can survive—or if their greatest victory might look exactly like defeat.
Perfect for fans of Ted Dekker's "Circle Series," Frank Peretti's "This Present Darkness," and C.S. Lewis's "Space Trilogy", Jericho's Heart delivers heart-pounding action with profound spiritual depth as light battles darkness in humanity's darkest hour.
The battle for humanity's soul intensifies.
Perfect for readers who love:
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Allegorical Christian fiction with depth and nuance
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Dystopian thrillers that explore timeless themes
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Time-travel narratives with meaningful purpose
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Stories that blend science fiction with spiritual journey
"A masterful blend of heart-stopping action and profound spiritual truth that will leave you breathless and searching your own heart."
Strong language and intense action sequences, but never any profanity or sexual content.
Warning: Your faith in the power of resurrection may be permanently strengthened!
Enjoy a sample of The Tower's Shadow
Chapter 1
“Tell me, Darren, what made you smile this week?” his mother asked as they rounded the corner of the supermarket aisle.
The five-year-old Darren hesitated, distracted by the colorful images and characters on the boxes all around him. The supermarket always seemed like such a joyful place to the young boy. There were boring aisles, of course, but the cereal and snack aisles were like a toy store. He couldn’t wait to see all his favorites, smiling at him from the front cover.
“Answer your mother, boy,” his father said sternly as he tapped the boy’s shoulder. The nudge pulled Darren out of his imagination, where Cap’n Crunch sailed the seas, always with a full bowl of deliciousness and a jolly smile.
“What, Ma?” young Darren asked.
“What made you smile this week, sweetheart?” she asked.
“Oh,” he said, then paused as he thought. “Lunch was great!” he finally erupted. “Matt had Oreos and he was eating ONLY the inside!”
“No way,” his mother said.
“He started stacking the cookie parts,” he said, motioning with his hands as if he were building a tower. “But then Jimmy kept knocking the tower down!” He laughed as he spoke.
“Jimmy is sneaky, huh,” she said.
“And then we’d all steal a piece before Matt could rebuild,” the boy said in a whisper.
“Oh, you’re all being sneaky, aren’t you?” his mother said with a smile as she poked Darren’s ribs, pulling out a giggle. “Was Matt okay with all that?” she asked.
“Yeah, he doesn’t like the cookie part,” Darren said, an ear-to-ear grin covering his face.
“I always knew that kid was off,” Darren’s father said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, hush.” His mother batted at the man’s arms.
“Why does he get Oreos in his lunch if he doesn’t like the cookie?” the father inquired.
“Because he LOVES the middle part!” Darren burst out.
“That’s nice, sweetheart,” his mother said.
“Sounds like a waste to me,” his father muttered under his breath. An elbow shot out from the mother and the man winced as it caught his side.
“DunkAroos! Mom, can we, please, please?” Darren jumped forward and grabbed a box off the shelf.
“Speaking of waste,” the father said.
The young boy heard and his body sank over like a wilting flower.
“Always no,” the boy whimpered as he put the box back on the shelf.
“Because it’s garbage food,” the father snapped.
The boy’s mother stared daggers at him.
“Sweetheart, we’re making No Bake Cookies. That’s our treat this week,” the boy’s mother interjected with a sympathetic touch to the side of young Darren’s head.
“More sug—” the father tried to say, but she sent another elbow at him, this one more forceful instead of playful.
“I think we should grab some berries. Hun, can you go grab some? Whatever looks in season and only organic,” she said, and Darren perked up a bit.
“You’re making cookies but have to buy organic?” the father replied.
“Only organic, hun.”
“No, the regular kind is fine,” he protested.
“Would you spray weed killer on your salad before eating it?” she replied.
“I don’t eat salad.”
“Hun, organic only,” she said, her expression inching closer and closer to more stern.
He took the hint and stepped back but couldn’t stop the objection welling up inside of him.
“I pay for private school so he can learn to steal Oreos, his feelings get a boo-boo because he can’t have garbage food, and now you want me to pay twice as much for the same fruit? I mean, what are we doing here?” the father ranted. “Have you seen prices lately? My pay ain’t keeping up with it!”
Darren’s eyes went to the floor, avoiding his father’s gaze as the man’s stern look engulfed the boy like a spotlight in a dark room. Eventually, the look shifted to the boy’s mother, who retorted with the raised eyebrows that only a disappointed wife can give to her husband. A thousand words, each sharper than daggers, impressed back on the man from her stare.
With an exhale of disgust, he slowly did an about-face and then left the aisle, but Darren still eyed the floor.
“No DunkAroos, sweetheart,” she said sympathetically. “But I’d love your help making the No Bakes later.”
“Okay,” Darren said, his face rising to uncover a frown.
“I’d consider a peanut butter version too. What do you think?” the mother asked.
“Yes!” The boy’s face lit up.
They moved down the aisle and soon turned down the next. As they walked around a football- and BBQ-themed endcap, the mother caught a concerned expression on the boy.
“Darren, what’s wrong?”
“School wasn’t all good this week,” he sheepishly admitted.
“Tell me more, sweetheart.”
“Stephen…” he said softly as if speaking it would give the memory life.
“Recess again?” she asked.
The boy nodded.
“The teacher?”
“She loves him, and never believes us.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. That must be tough.”
Young Darren exhaled, looking up and down the otherwise empty aisle. “Yeah…” he agreed, and his shoulders dropped and rose again as he finally allowed himself to breathe.
“What do you think you should do about it?” she asked.
“Can you call the teacher?” he pleaded.
“I could, but help me learn more. What’s an action you could take?”
“Punch him in the face,” Darren said through gritted teeth.
“Ehhh…”
“But, Mom, he hits us and makes fun of us. It’s awful!”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with him, sweetheart. Sometimes difficult people and situations come into our life.”
“Why would God allow people like Stephen?” he asked.
The mother pulled back in surprise.
“Sweetheart, remember, God made him too. And it’s hard to hear, but God loves even the bad guys. I’m betting Stephen is scared or anxious or something, and he doesn’t know how to act properly. Whatever it is, God loves him too.”
“Yeah…” the boy dismissed.
“I think ignoring him will help. It’s not good to be around bad people.”
“But he's in my class, and he finds me every time.”
“I love you, sweetheart. That’s hard. Let’s think about this more and talk later, okay?” She touched the side of his head.
“Okay, Mom.”
They walked another aisle and passed by other shoppers. One woman was trying her best to ignore her young toddler screaming for their sippy cup. The child’s binky fell and bounced in front of Darren and his mother. He instinctively picked it up and held it out for the exhausted mother. Her dazed look took a second to recognize the favor, but she snapped back from her sleep deprivation and thanked Darren.
“That was nice of you,” Darren’s mother said to him as they moved down the next aisle. She grabbed an item here and there, slowly filling their cart.
Once again, she noticed the concerned look on her son’s face.
“You still thinking about Stephen?” she asked.
“Kind of,” he said.
She gave an understanding nod and then turned to check their shopping list.
“Mom?” He interrupted her train of thought. “Stephen reminds me of Dad. Why are you nice and Dad is mean?”
Her hand shot up and covered her mouth.
“Sweetheart, your dad loves you,” she said.
Darren looked down and kicked at the floor.
“Can I not be around him? You said not to be around mean people,” he said.
“Why do you think he’s mean?”
“He’s always telling me what to do, and I never do it right, so then he gets mad and tells me more things to do that I can’t do!”
“I don’t agree with everything your father says and does, but remember, he loves you.”
“I don’t see it,” he said under his breath.
“Don’t talk like that,” she snapped, but caught herself and squatted to meet her son at his level. “He has his own way of showing it.”
“Can you just tell him to not yell at me or spank me?”
Her eyes watered as she looked at her son.
“Darren.” She gently touched his chin and pulled up his face to make eye contact. “Your father and I are different. I’m more sensitive than him, and at your age, it’s easier for me to cuddle you like crazy.” She broke a smile that infected the boy, but soon the sadness returned. “But your father goes out and works hard to provide for us. I’m sorry he’s rough around the edges. We’ve been through a lot together, and before God gave us you, your father’s rough edges got us through some VERY rough times.”
“I found his pictures,” the boy admitted.
Her eyes widened. “From the desert?”
“Why were there all those bodies? They were cut apart.”
She hugged the boy. “Sweetheart, your dad was in war. It was called Desert Storm and there were very bad people that your dad and his friends were trying to protect others from.”
“He killed all those people. He’s going to hell.”
“Sweetheart, I want you to remember two things. First, that your father loves you, no matter what. I’m sorry he can act mean, but I’ll talk with him about his words. And second,” she pulled back his face as the boy tried to look away, “if there are bad guys, and there are, then good guys must kill the bad guys; otherwise, there aren’t really any good guys.”
Darren gulped as he looked into his mother’s watery eyes. His father came around the corner, holding a stack of plastic containers. They were all organic berries.