by Tim LaHaye
He opened his eyes to a halo of yellow residue from the brief flash. Blinking, he tried to reproduce behind his eyelids the image that had to have been temporarily projected and burned there. He kept his eyes shut until his brain drew a rudimentary block picture of three more steps down to a large door.
Buck didn’t know what else to do but trust his split-second vision. He felt his way down the stairs and found he had been correct. Another landing presented itself, and he felt the door. This one was wood—big, heavy, solid. He found the knob, and it turned freely. But the door did not budge. And he could tell it was not stuck. It felt locked, dead-bolted. His fingers found the lock above the handle. There would be no opening this door without a key. He would have to get back into his room the way he had come.
Buck was encouraged, however, as he retraced his steps. Somehow he would find that door from inside the house and broach with Chaim the subject of a key.
When he reached the drainpipe, he was forced to look down before swinging out over the ledge and heading back. That was a mistake. Now he would have to talk himself into and through this. And how long had he been gone? He decided to wait through one more guard walk-around to be sure. He soon realized he must have just missed one because nearly half an hour later Jonas shuffled by and out of sight again.
Buck gripped the top of the pipe with both hands, swung his lead leg over the side until he felt the lip of the first seam, and climbed straight down. He was about to reach the top of the patio railing outside his and Chloe’s room when he was certain he saw something below in his peripheral vision. If he had to guess, he thought he saw the curtain move.
Was Chloe awake? Had she heard him? Could she see him? He didn’t want to scare her. But what if this was GC? What if they had already infiltrated the place? It could also be Chaim’s own security. Might they take action before he was able to identify himself?
Buck hung from the drainpipe, feeling like an idiot, his feet pigeon-toed on a seam. He should have just dropped lightly onto the patio and reentered the room. But he had to be sure no one was at the window. He let go with one hand and leaned down as far as he could. Nothing.
He spread his knees and tried to lower his head to get a sight line. Were the curtains open? He thought he had left through a shut drape. As he tried to peer farther, first one foot, then the other, slipped off the seam, and his fingers supported his full body weight. He could only hope no one was watching through the window because no one he knew—certainly not himself—could hang for long that way.
As Buck’s fingers gave way, he dropped straight down, his nose inches from the glass door. When his feet hit the patio, he found himself staring into another pair of eyes, wide and terrified and set in a ghostly pale face.
Besides being startled at the image, Buck’s weight made his knees bend as he landed, but he was so close to the door that they banged into it, driving him off his feet and straight back into the railing. The top caught him just above his backside and his weight carried him backward over the rail. He grabbed the wrought iron as he flopped, desperate to keep from hurtling all the way to the ground on his head.
With a loud grunt, Buck saw the sky as he flipped back, and his feet soon followed. He hung from the top of the rail by his hands, upside down, the back of his head pressed against the bars and his feet dangling near his face. It was all he could do to hang on, knowing his life was in his own hands.
Meanwhile, of course, Chloe was screaming.
Buck forced his feet back up until he was balanced, teetering painfully on his seat, the rail digging into his back. With a desperate pull, he forced his torso up until the weight of his legs brought him back onto the patio. “It’s just me, babe,” he said, as Chloe stared wide-eyed out the window.
He rubbed his back as she slid open the door. “What in the world?” she said over and over. “I nearly gave birth.”
Buck tried to explain as he undressed, more ready for bed than he had been in a long time. A quick knock at the door was followed by, “Everything all right in there, ma’am? We heard a scream.”
“Yes, thank you,” she managed, then giggled. The guard went away muttering, “Newlyweds!” and Buck and Chloe laughed till they cried.
“Anyway,” Buck said, stretching out on his tender back, “I found an old helipad, and—”
“I know all about that,” Chloe said. “I asked Chaim about it when he finally got home.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
“But I don’t want him to know we’re planning anyth—”
“I know, super sleuth. I just asked him about the history of the place to see what I could learn. It used to be an embassy. Ergo, the—”
“Helipad.”
“Right. He even showed me the door that leads to it. There’s a key on a nail embedded in the doorjamb right next to it. I’ll bet even you could unlock the door with it.”
“I’m such a dork,” he said.
“You’re my dork. Scare me to death, why don’t you. If I’d had a weapon, I’d have killed you. I thought about running out there and pushing you over.”
“What kept you?”
“Something told me it had to be you. You didn’t look too dangerous there you know, rear end aloft.”
“You’re bad. So you want to know where I went?”
“I figured you went to the Wall; that’s why I didn’t call.”
“You know me too well.”
“I knew you’d want to see what they made of Carpathia’s threat. Big crowd?”
Rayford had trouble sleeping, a rarity for him. He kept looking at his watch, figuring what time it was in Israel, and trying to decide when to call Buck or Chloe. He knew they would likely try to tell him things had settled down and that they didn’t sense the same danger he did. But he had worked more closely with Carpathia than Buck had. He knew the man too well. Besides, he wanted to talk to Tsion. Though the rabbi felt the confidence of God as his protection, one couldn’t be too careful. Scripture was clear that for a time the sealed ones of God were invulnerable to harm from the actual judgments of God. But no one was clear on whether that protection extended past the 144,000 converted Jewish evangelists to Gentiles like Rayford and his family, who had become tribulation saints.
And though the 144,000, of whom Tsion was clearly one, were protected against the judgments, it seemed unlikely that none of them would die by other causes in the meantime. Rayford grew desperate to get them out of Israel, but come dawn in the Chicago area, he finally fell asleep. When he awoke late that morning, he knew his counterparts in the Holy Land would be well on their way to the evening’s meeting, which he would have to watch via the Internet again.
Once again, Buck had slept several hours, and Chloe had let him. “You’re on a different schedule than I am,” she explained. “If you’re going to be up all hours playing Spiderman, you need your rest. Seriously, Buck, I need you healthy. You’ve been going full speed for months, and someone has to look out for you.”
“I’m trying to look out for you,” he said.
“Yeah, well, start by not prowling around my balcony in the middle of the night.”
Chaim had negotiated with Fortunato that Jacov not be charged in connection with the incident the night before if Chaim agreed to not have him serve as Tsion’s driver anymore. But Jacov put up such a fuss at the prospect of not getting to go that Dr. Rosenzweig finally agreed to follow only the letter of the agreement. Buck drove. Jacov rode along and brought a guest: Stefan.
When they arrived at the stadium early that afternoon, with the requisite GC escort this time leading them through the shortcuts Jacov had discovered, Jacov emerged from the van with such glee and anticipation etched on his face that Buck couldn’t help but smile.
Chloe had agreed to stay at the compound, and Buck was worried. He had expected more debate from her, and now he wondered if she was suffering more than she let on. She had been shaken, of course, by the escape from the GC the night before, and he on
ly hoped she realized that similar incidents couldn’t be good for her or the unborn baby.
News reports all day carried the story that the two preachers at the Wailing Wall had callously disregarded the directive handed down by the potentate himself. Reports said that when Global Community forces tried to apprehend them and bring them to justice, the pair murdered two guards. Eyewitnesses on the Mount of Olives said the two concealed flamethrowers in their robes that they produced when the guards were within feet of them. The weapons had not been recovered, though the preachers had spent since just before dawn through the present time in their usual spots near the Wailing Wall.
Live shots from there showed huge crowds deriding them, taunting them, and yet keeping a healthier-than-usual distance. Buck asked Tsion, “Why doesn’t Nicolae drop a bomb on them or attack them with missiles or something? What would happen, being that it’s a year before the appointed time?”
“Even Nicolae knows the sacred nature of the Temple Mount,” Tsion said as he disembarked from the van. He hurried inside to escape a rushing, cheering crowd. “I would love to greet them all,” he said, “but I fear the mayhem.” He found a place to sit. “Anyway,” he concluded, “Carpathia would not sanction violence there, at least if it could be traced to him. His threat to kill them if they remain there after the end of tomorrow night’s meeting is some sort of ruse. Frankly, I’m glad he’s gone public with it. I expect the two to flout his authority by being right there right then.”
Jacov and Stefan looked much different than they had in the wee hours. It appeared Rosenzweig was right that Stefan was better able to hold his liquor. He seemed none the worse for wear and proved pleasant. They went off to find good seats, Jacov asking Buck to “pray for my wife, who will be watching on TV at home. She worries about me, thinking I have lost my mind. I told her, it’s not what I’ve lost but what I’ve found!”
GC guards looked menacingly at anyone connected with the program, as if silently expressing that they were only doing what they were commanded. If they had it their way, was the implication, they would destroy the lot of those who opposed their potentate.
No fireworks were expected this second night. Surely Nicolae and his people knew better than to make another appearance. But because of the noise the previous night’s controversies had engendered, the crowd was bigger than ever. The converts were back, but more curious skeptics were on hand too.
Again the evening began with a simple greeting, the hearty singing of a hymn, and the introduction of Tsion Ben-Judah. He was greeted with wave upon wave of cheers and applause, all of which he largely ignored, except to smile and raise his hands for silence. Buck again stood in the wings and watched and listened in awe to the man who had become a spiritual father to him—the rabbi who had come to Jesus through studying the prophecies of the Old Testament now led a flock of millions over the Internet. Here he stood, a smallish, plainspoken man with a Bible and a pile of meticulous notes. And he held the massive crowd in his palm.
“You have learned much today, I understand,” Tsion began. “And tonight is a time for more instruction. I have warned you in advance of many judgments, from the seven seals to the seven trumpets and eventually to the seven vials that will finally usher in the Glorious Appearing of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
“I have traced the beginning of the seven-year tribulation period from the signing of the unholy alliance between the one-world system and the nation of Israel. By following the judgments that have befallen the world since then, I have calculated that we are waiting on a precipice. We have endured all seven Seal Judgments and the first three of the seven Trumpet Judgments. The middle, or fourth, Trumpet Judgment is next in God’s timing.
“To prove to the wondering world and to the unconvinced that we can know whereof we speak, I will tell you now what to expect. When this occurs, let no man deny that he was warned and that this warning has been recorded in the Scriptures for centuries. God is not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. That is the reason for this entire season of trial and travail. Though he waited as long as his mercy could endure and finally raptured his church, still he rains judgment after judgment down upon an unbelieving world. Why? Is he angry with us? Should he not be?
“But no! No! A thousand times no! In his love and mercy he has tried everything to get our attention. All of us remaining on the earth to this day were delinquent in responding to his loving call. Now, using every arrow in his quiver, as it were, he makes himself clearer than ever with each judgment. Is there doubt in anyone’s mind that all of this is God’s doing?
“Repent! Turn to him. Accept his gift before it is too late. The downside of the judgments that finally catch some people’s attention is that thousands also die from them. Don’t risk falling into that category. The likelihood is that three-fourths of us who were left behind at the Rapture will die—lost or redeemed—by the end of the Tribulation.
“I want to tell you tonight of the fourth Trumpet Judgment in the hope that it will not take that catastrophe to finally convince you. For it could just as easily kill you.”
CHAPTER 9
Just after noon on Thursday in Chicago, Rayford and Ken joined Doc Charles and Hattie to watch the Meeting. The pilots had their flight plans out and doodled with charting their course to the Middle East. Assuming word got to Tsion, he would announce something official or ceremonious for Saturday, and that would trigger Rayford and Ken’s attempt to get to Israel. They would plan to arrive around midnight Friday and pick up their passengers shortly thereafter.
Rayford’s head jerked up as all four watchers heard Tsion say, “I plan to summarize all this in a small thank-you session to the local committee on Saturday at noon, when we meet near the Temple Mount.”
“Bingo!” Rayford said. “Teach me the Gulfstream this afternoon, so I can share the load both ways.”
“Long as you’re confident of chopper duty. Got one lined up?”
“That part’ll be easy. Hoo, boy, back in the battle!”
Hattie gave Rayford a long look. “You like this stuff?”
“Funny you would ask that,” he said, “knowing how you feel about Carpathia.”
“I expect to die going after him. You act like you can’t lose.”
“We’ve already won,” Ritz said. “It’s just a matter of going through the motions. The Bible’s already told the story, and as Tsion says, ‘We win.’”
Hattie shook her head and rolled onto her side, her back to them. “You’re pretty glib for dealing with a man like Nicolae.”
Ken caught Rayford’s eye. “You realize when we have to leave, with the time change and all? Well, ’course you do. You been flyin’ these routes a lot longer’n I have.”
Buck found it hard to believe all that had happened in the twenty-four hours since Tsion had last addressed the crowd. He missed Chloe but felt more settled and at peace than he had in a long time.
“The earth groans under the effects of our fallen condition,” Tsion began. “We’ve all lost loved ones in the Rapture and in the ten judgments from heaven since then. The great wrath of the Lamb earthquake devastated the globe, save for this very country and nation. The first three Trumpet Judgments alone scorched a third of the earth’s trees and grass, destroyed a third of the oceans’ fish, sank a third of the world’s ships, and poisoned a third of the earth’s water—all as predicted in the Scriptures.
“We know the sequence of these events, but we don’t know God’s timing. He could pile many of these judgments into one day. All I can say with certainty is what comes next. As you see, these get progressively worse. The fourth Trumpet Judgment will affect the look of the skies and the temperature of the entire globe.
“Revelation 8:12 reads, ‘Then the fourth angel sounded: And a third of the sun was struck, a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of them were darkened. A third of the day did not shine, and likewise the night.’
“Regardless of whethe
r it means one-third of each star or a third of all stars, the effect will be the same. Day or night, the skies will be one-third darker than they have ever been. Not only that, but I take from this passage that one-third more of the day will be dark. So the sun will shine only two-thirds the time it used to. And when it is shining, it will be only two-thirds its usual brightness.
“Prophecy indicates that more scorching and parching of the earth comes later, so it’s likely the darkening and resultant cooling is temporary. But when it occurs, it will usher in—for however long—winterlike conditions in most of the world. Prepare, prepare, prepare! And when depressed friends and neighbors and loved ones despair due to the darkness and gloom, show them this was predicted. Tell them it is God’s way of getting their attention.”
Tsion summarized the teaching that had gone on during the day at various sites around the city and urged the audience to preach boldly “until the Glorious Appearing fewer than five years away. I believe the greatest time of harvest is now, before the second half of the Tribulation, which the Bible calls the Great Tribulation.
“One day the evil world system will require citizens to bear a mark in order for them to buy or sell. You may rest assured it will not be the mark we see on each other’s foreheads!”
Tsion went on to outline practical suggestions for storing goods. “We must trust God,” he concluded. “He expects us to be wise as serpents and gentle as doves. That wisdom includes being practical enough to prepare for a future that has been laid out for us in his Word.
“Tomorrow night I’m afraid I have a difficult message to bring. You may get a preview of it by reading Revelation 9.”
As Tsion began wrapping up his teaching for the night, Buck’s phone vibrated.
