by Paul Lalonde
“Well, Jack, we’ve talked about all these signs of the times,” Rexella was saying. “But what is the next thing that the Bible says we should be looking for on the prophetic calendar?”
“Rexella, what we’re watching for now is something called the Rapture of the Church,” replied Jack. “Any day now, every one of us who has accepted Jesus as our Lord and Savior is going to vanish off the face of the earth. It’ll happen according to the Bible, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. First Corinthians 15:52.”
Helen listened, intrigued, as they talked. She opened the Bible she had found in her grandmother’s bedroom, looking for the passages they were describing. As she listened and read, she felt both amazement and encouragement. It was as though her grandmother’s final words were being taught to her anew.
“Oh, Jack, it is so exciting,” said Rexella on the tape. “It’s something every Christian is so looking forward to. But what about those who are left behind? We all have friends and loved ones who aren’t going to know what’s happened. So what will become of them after we all vanish?”
“Well, Rexella,” replied Jack, “the Bible tells us that after the Rapture a great world leader is going to arise on the scene and he’s going to try to explain the whole thing away. Not only that, but he’s going to take credit for saving the world from destruction. In fact, he’s going to try to make those left behind believe that he is actually the Messiah, but the truth is that he’s nothing but an impostor empowered by Satan himself.”
Helen wanted to deny what she was hearing yet knew the words being spoken were true. She continued reading the passages the Van Impes were quoting, focusing, fascinated, on every word.
The last segment of the tape featured evangelist Luis Palau. As tears rolled down her cheeks, she listened as he spoke. “So the answer to all of this is simple. Just ask God to come into your hearts. For those of us now, living before the Rapture, we can join our Lord in heaven before the Antichrist even comes to power. But even after the Rapture, the love of God and His mercy are still available. But you’ve got to take the first step. You’ve got to get down on your knees and ask God to come into your life. Admit you are a sinner and open your heart to Jesus. If you do that simple thing, that simple act of faith, you will have eternal life.”
It was dark outside when Helen, still sobbing, dropped to her knees and began to pray. Finally she understood. Finally she understood what her grandmother had carried in her heart all those years.
“Dear God,” Helen prayed. “Please forgive me for being so stubborn. Somehow I always knew Grandma was right when she told me that I needed You to wash away my sins. I read about Your Son. I spoke of Him with my lips. But now I know that was not enough. Lord, I ask You now, please come into my heart and into my life. Forgive my sins.” And as she prayed, she felt the enveloping warmth surround her. And she realized that the God whom she denied had always been with her. It was she who had refused to open her eyes, her mind, her heart to what was always there for her. Her grandmother had been but one of many vessels for His love. And while she missed Edna and always would, she at last understood that it was God who would hold her, nurture her, love her unconditionally, if she would only reach out and embrace Him.
“. . . in Jesus’ name,” she whispered, “amen.”
Chapter 14
THEY GATHERED TOGETHER in wonder and joy, sharing miracles of the past few days. They had heard about the Messiah, of course, and many of them called themselves Christians, but their faith had long since lost its meaning.
Franco Macalousso was their savior now, a man who made missiles disappear in mid-flight, whose deeds were recorded on videotape and shown on the evening news. This was truly the Messiah, not a myth written long ago. He was the one to whom they gave praise and honor, the one who made them feel blessed to be alive in such a time of peace, harmony, and hope.
The headlines said it all: “Macalousso Saves the World.” “Public Has No Doubt: Macalousso Is the Messiah.” “Heaven Applauds the New Messiah.”
But there was a handful of other people who had begun reading the books and watching the videotapes left behind by the vanished ones. Like Edna Williams, a few had deliberately left material for relatives or friends, material carefully placed on shelves or on tables to be found by a well-meaning landlord, neighbor, or police officer. The information this handful of people discovered was so amazing that some had tried to share it with coworkers and relatives. It was then they discovered that the full prophecy of the Rapture had indeed been fulfilled. Those who accepted Franco Macalousso as the Messiah could no longer hear the truth. They found growing hostility within their families and friends; fathers against sons, mothers against daughters, husbands against wives, so they gathered in two’s and three’s in Jesus’ name, meeting in coffee shops and living rooms, and those few churches Macalousso had let stand.
The names on the List were another matter. This List, a registry established by Len Parker using the internationally linked computer repositories of law enforcement agencies, identified the “fanatics” who had embraced Christianity since the coming of the new Messiah. Their names and locations were kept on file for future reeducation if possible, and if not, at the very least, containment to keep them from spreading their poison. The List was also a means for the quiet confiscation of the material left behind by the raptured, books and videos that were of no value now that the new Messiah was here to reinterpret past and present. “Did the One who came before stop wars?” he asked. “Did the One who came before bring peace? Did the One who came before take missiles from the sky? Only a Messiah can do what I have done. Only a Messiah could change hearts filled with such hate. I am the one foretold, the one who has brought true and lasting peace. And now that my time has come, there must be no other.”
Yet those who gathered secretly in two’s and three’s knew better. They believed in He who Macalousso was calling the “One who came before” and knew Him as the true Messiah. The boldest among them declared the truth to the world, phoning into talk shows to bring the truth to the listening audience, explaining passages in the Bible that foretold this time, encouraging others to study the Word and think for themselves.
Others researched the lives of the raptured, discovering how loving they had been, how Spirit-filled and Spirit-led good works had come naturally to them. For the most part, they were met with pity, anger, and hostility.
Many new Christians, now called the “Haters,” were berated for their lack of belief in the true Messiah. They were attacked, beaten, and shot. Firebombs were hurled at their homes and hate messages were scrawled on doors. Tolerance for the old beliefs was running low and patience for the enemies of Macalousso wearing thin.
Bronson Pearl had not told Helen of his return home after his assignment in the Middle East. He had slept on the plane coming to America, shaved, brushed his teeth, made himself as presentable as possible before seeing her again. He wondered if she understood the significance of the last few days. Had she seen how fleeting life could be? One minute she was in his arms, and the next he was standing at Armageddon, broadcasting the end of the world back to her anchor desk in New York. They should have been together then. They should be together now.
Helen was in a staff meeting when Bronson walked into WNN, transfixing her with his presence. Seeing him in the flesh, knowing she could rush across the room to embrace him . . . Helen smiled, tears coming to her eyes. Then she mouthed the word “Yes.”
Bronson looked at her quizzically, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yes,” she said aloud, rising from her chair and hurrying over to Bronson. Oblivious to the crew, she put her arms around him. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
They had moved quietly into WNN headquarters. Young men chosen especially for their loyalty to Franco Macalousso. Their uniforms identified them as carrying his authority, transcending all others.
Bronson had seen this type of soldier before. Macalousso had prepared such a force whi
le still with the United Nations and they were with him as European Union security. Now that he had revealed himself to be the Messiah, they were to play an even more prominent role.
It was a thought that troubled him. If Franco Macalousso truly was the Messiah, why did he need so much security? He had halted global destruction, somehow removing the missiles from the skies. Those who believed would follow without question. Those who opposed would dare not challenge him.
So why these armed men in key communication centers? It was a question he felt almost guilty asking, considering what he had witnessed with his own eyes. After all, he had returned safe and sound to the woman he loved. The woman who sustained him when all about them was insanity.
“It’s good to be back, Helen,” he told her later that day as they coanchored the evening news. “Actually, it’s good to be anywhere.”
“You’re right about that, Bronson,” she replied, smiling. “For those who just tuned in, we’re expecting President Macalousso to address a worldwide audience from Jerusalem. He has promised to shed some light on the incredible events of the last forty-eight hours. From the numbers we’ve received, this will be the most-watched telecast in history.” She looked up at the control booth and nodded. “We’ve just been told the feed is ready.” She turned to the camera. “We now switch live to Jerusalem.”
The rally was being held in a stadium with spotlights positioned to regularly sweep a crowd estimated to be over seventy-five thousand, with another one hundred thousand outside watching the speech on giant television monitors.
Helicopters hovered overhead from a dozen television networks around the world. Reporters roamed the crowd, reporting to outdoor venues that had been established in other parts of the world so the speech could be witnessed live by communities of every size. At least two billion people were expected to be listening, either in public gatherings or on home televisions and radios.
Franco Macalousso walked calmly down a long aisle. A spotlight focused on his figure as he made his way to the podium. On catwalks overhead, snipers had been positioned; reporters who had questioned the need for such security were told not to mention it on the air or to discuss other security measures taken for the event. As a result, the televised image showed Macalousso walking unprotected and unconcerned as the huge audience rose to its feet, cheering.
“Franco! Franco! Franco!” came a massive cry from the crowd. “Praise the holy one! Franco! Franco! Franco!”
Unknown to the mass audience, protests in some of the broadcast areas were also under way. A group calling itself “The Friends of Jesus” had come together, their clothing stitched with biblical references to the Antichrist. They were ignored, then taunted, and finally spat upon by enraged crowds. But the ardent converts continued to spread the Word, gathering in New Delhi, Manila, Mexico City, Vancouver, and elsewhere. There were numerous arrests, with local police taking the side of the angry mobs. But in Jerusalem, the broadcast continued without interruption.
The cameras focused on an object Macalousso carried on his walk to the podium. It was a large, leather-bound Bible, obviously much used. As he reached the dais, he raised the book high in his right hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he declared. “I hold in my hand what can only be considered the most misunderstood book in the history of the world. It is in this book that my coming has been foretold. It is in this book that you have also read of the Great Deceiver, the One who came before. The prophet Zechariah spoke of my coming today. He foretold, ‘And his feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, which is before Jerusalem on the east.’ A long time ago, the One who came before spoke in my name and deceived many. His deception continued for almost two thousand years, but now I have removed those who believed His lies, those who chose hatred and intolerance over peace and unity.”
He paused, gauging the audience reaction. As his amplified voice boomed across the stadium their adulation grew louder, cheering the words even as he spoke them.
“I have removed the tares from the wheat,” Macalousso declared.
Some had tears in their eyes, others had their heads bowed, their eyes tightly closed in prayer, with open hands raised toward the sky. “Thank you, Franco,” they sobbed. “Oh, Franco, thank you.”
But there were also angry cries, though the television audience never heard them. Roving security forces would grab the protesters and force them to their knees, with the pretense of searching for weapons, as they were escorted away. Watching in the WNN studio, Helen felt her own anger rise. “Bronson, it’s a lie,” she declared. “I read what Grandma left for me.”
“Shhhh,” said Bronson. “I want to hear this. I met the man, spent hours with him. He’s fascinating.”
“He’s a vehicle for Satan’s lies,” she insisted.
“Helen, just watch,” Bronson insisted. “Please. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“I have come in peace,” Macalousso was declaring, “and I have brought peace to the world.”
“Franco! Franco! Franco!” the crowd chanted.
“I have saved you all from destruction!”
“Praise his precious name. Franco! Franco!”
Gesturing to the Bible, he continued, “This book has told you that by my fruits you would know me. Now that you have seen the works that I have done, know that your salvation is at hand!”
Chapter 15
HELEN GLANCED AROUND THE NEWSROOM where everyone was riveted to the monitor. Even Bronson was staring, though Helen could not read the bemused expression on his face. “This reminds me of Hitler in the 1930s,” he whispered to her. “Did you ever see those clips? This guy’s got the same gift of oratory. Fascinating.” She felt a tightness in her chest as he added, “Thank God this one’s for real. Hitler was a dangerous fraud. I’ve seen the power of this man with my own eyes.”
“I am here to tell you today that mankind is ready to take its next great step of evolution,” Macalousso continued. “I will show you the wonderful powers that lie within you waiting to be unleashed, powers that have been your birthright from the beginning. Those who were not ready, those whose minds were closed to the truth, have been removed. Only the fittest have survived, and that is why you are here with me today.” The cheers were deafening as he shouted over the tumult, “Those who refused to believe in the power of the human mind have held you back. They believed that our true power came from outside of ourselves. I tell you today, the power is within you. It always has been. And now, it is time for you to see what you are capable of. I will be your guide. The power is within you!”
Despite her new understanding, Helen suddenly realized that she, too, was riveted to the television monitor. There was something more than charisma that gave power to President Macalousso’s words; a force within him was so seductive it could overwhelm the very soul of the unsuspecting. She glanced at Bronson Pearl and realized from his face that he was no longer dispassionate, but like the rest of the world he was mesmerized by the image on the screen. She needed to break the spell, needed to speak with Bronson alone. Reaching across the desk, Helen took a pen and paper and wrote, “I need you to leave here with me right NOW!”
Bronson looked at the note, puzzled. This was the most important speech by the most important person in human history. Watching a tape or reading a transcript later just wouldn’t be the same.
He looked at Helen and shook his head, pointing to the monitors as if to say, “Wait. Not now.”
Helen took the paper and angrily wrote, “PLEASE!!”
Bronson looked at her more closely. Helen was an experienced professional and if she was this insistent, it must be something more important. He rose to his feet and quietly started across the room. Helen left a few moments later.
Overhead in the control room, Len Parker was the only person not watching Macalousso. Quietly, he tapped the shoulder of a uniformed soldier at a control desk. “Rewind surveillance camera three, then run it on monitor six,” whispered Parker, pointing to a scre
en only he and the soldier could see.
As the tape ran Parker watched until Helen’s paper was passed to Bronson the first time. “Stop! Now give me a close-up on that,” he commanded.
The words on the note filled the screen.
Helen reached the side entrance of the studio, opened the door, and walked outside.
She met Bronson in a place they both knew was safe from the prying eyes and ears of Macalousso’s squads. There were no windows on this side of the building; they had gone there before when they sought privacy. Helen embraced Bronson, clinging to him fiercely, her body shaking from the release of tension. Finally she stepped back, her hands on his shoulders, her head bowed. She breathed deeply, exhaling slowly. “Lord, give me the strength . . . ,” she whispered.
“What’s this all about, Helen?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset.”
As Helen started to speak, she noticed in the distance two men, one in a suit and the other in a uniform. She took Bronson’s arm and hurried with him around the building to where she had parked her car. “Just get in,” she said urgently. “We’re being followed.”
Helen drove onto the freeway, getting off at the first exit then getting on again, to shake their pursuers. She returned finally to the city, heading to a parking garage near her grandmother’s apartment, and, satisfied she had lost the surveillance team, headed to her grandmother’s apartment building.
“I know this is about President Macalousso, Helen,” Bronson said when they were safely inside. “I know you saw it on television, but you really had to be there in the midst of it. The missiles were launched, the battle was inevitable, and suddenly a helicopter landed at the Mount of Olives. Just as the door opened and Macalousso stepped to the ground, the weapons vanished as though they were playing cards in a magician’s hand.”
