by Tim LaHaye
“As you know, she was aboard a Pan-Continental 747 flight from Boston to Baghdad today. The earthquake hit moments before the plane was to touch down. The best our sources can tell is that the pilot apparently saw the chaos, realized he could not land near the airport, pulled up, and turned the plane around.”
Rayford knew what was coming, if the story was true. The pilot would not have had power to regain altitude if he both pulled up and turned around that quickly.
“Pan-Con officials tell me,” Carpathia continued, “that the plane was simply not airworthy at that speed. Eyewitnesses say it cleared the banks of the Tigris, hit first nearly halfway across the river, flipped tail up, then plunged out of sight.”
Rayford’s whole body pulsed with every heartbeat. He lowered his chin to his chest and fought for composure. He looked up at Carpathia, wanting details, but could not open his mouth, let alone utter a sound.
“The current is swift there, Captain Steele. But Pan-Con tells me a plane like that would drop like a stone. Nothing has surfaced downriver. No bodies have been discovered. It will be days before we get equipment for a salvage operation. I am sorry.”
Rayford no more believed Carpathia was sorry than that Amanda was dead. He believed even less that she had ever acted in concert with Nicolae Carpathia.
Buck worked like a madman, his fingers nicked and blistered. Chloe had to be in there somewhere. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to dig. But Tsion enjoyed hashing things over. “I do not understand, Cameron,” he said, “why Chloe’s car would have been in the garage where Loretta’s car usually sits.”
“I don’t know,” Buck said dismissively. “But it’s there, and that means she’s here somewhere.”
“Perhaps the earthquake plunged the car right into the garage,” Tsion suggested.
“Unlikely,” Buck said. “I don’t really care. I’m still kicking myself for not noticing her car missing when I got here.”
“What would you have surmised?”
“That she had driven away! Escaped.”
“Is that not still possible?”
Buck straightened up and pressed his knuckles into his back, trying to stretch sore muscles. “She wouldn’t have gotten anywhere on foot. This thing hit so suddenly. There was no warning.”
“Oh, but there was.”
Buck stared at the rabbi. “You were underground, Tsion. How would you know?”
“I heard rumblings, a couple of minutes before the shaking began.”
Buck had been in his Range Rover. He had seen roadkill, dogs barking and running, and other animals not usually seen in the daytime. Before the sky turned black he had noticed not a leaf moving, yet stoplights and traffic signs swayed. That was when he knew the earthquake was coming. There had been at least a brief warning. Was it possible Chloe had had an inkling? What would she have done? Where would she have gone?
Buck went back to digging. “What did you say was in her car, Tsion?”
“Just her computer and her phone.”
Buck stopped digging. “Could she be in the garage?”
“I am afraid not, Cameron. I looked carefully. If she was there when it all came down,” Tsion said, “you would not want to find her anyway.”
I might not like it, Buck thought, but I have to know.
Rayford’s body went rigid when Carpathia touched his shoulder. He envisioned leaping from the chair and choking the life out of Carpathia. He sat seething, eyes closed, feeling as if he were about to explode.
“I can sympathize with your grief,” Nicolae said. “Perhaps you can understand my own feeling of loss over the many lives this calamity has cost. It was worldwide, every continent suffering severe damage. The only region spared was Israel.”
Rayford wrenched away from Carpathia’s touch and regained his voice. “And you don’t believe this was the wrath of the Lamb?”
“Rayford, Rayford,” Carpathia said. “Surely you do not lay at the feet of some Supreme Being an act so spiteful and capricious and deadly as this.”
Rayford shook his head. What had he been thinking? Was he actually trying to persuade the Antichrist he was wrong?
Carpathia moved behind his desk to a high-backed leather chair. “Let me tell you what I am going to tell the rest of the staff, so you can skip the meeting and find your quarters and get some rest.”
“I don’t mind hearing it along with the rest.”
“Magnanimous, Captain Steele. However, there are as well things I need to say only to you. I hesitate to raise this while your loss is so fresh, but you do understand that I could have you imprisoned.”
“I’m sure you could,” Rayford said.
“But I choose not to do that.”
Should he feel grateful or disappointed? A stretch in prison didn’t sound bad. If he knew his daughter and son-in-law and Tsion were all right, he could endure that.
Carpathia continued, “I understand you better than you know. We will put behind us our encounter, and you will continue to serve me in the manner you have up to now.”
“And if I resign?”
“That is not an option. You will come through this nobly, as you have other crises. Otherwise, I will charge you with insubordination and have you imprisoned.”
“That’s putting the encounter behind us? You want someone working for you who would rather not?”
“In time I will win you over,” Carpathia said. “You are aware that your living quarters were destroyed?”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Teams will try to salvage anything of use. Meanwhile, we have uniforms and necessities for you. You will find your quarters adequate, though not luxurious. Top priority for my administration is to rebuild New Babylon. It will become the new capital of the world. All banking, commerce, religion, and government will start and end right here. The greatest rebuilding challenge in the rest of the world is in communications. We have already begun rebuilding an international network that—”
“Communications is more important than people? More than cleaning up areas that might otherwise become diseased? Clearing away bodies? Reuniting families?”
“In due time, Captain Steele. Such efforts depend on communications too. Fortunately, the timing of my most ambitious project could not have been more propitious. The Global Community recently secured sole ownership of all international satellite and cellular communications companies. We will have in place in a few months the first truly global communications network. It is cellular, and it is solar powered. I call it Cellular-Solar. Once the cell towers have been re-erected and satellites are maneuvered to geosynchronous orbit, anyone will be able to communicate with anyone else anywhere at any time.”
Carpathia appeared to have lost the ability to hide his glee. If this technology worked, it solidified Carpathia’s grip on the earth. His takeover was complete. He owned and controlled everything and everybody.
“As soon as you are up to it, you and Officer McCullum are to fly my ambassadors here. A handful of major airports around the world are operational, but with the use of smaller aircraft, we should be able to get my key men to where you can collect them in the Condor 216 and deliver them to me.”
Rayford could not concentrate. “I have a couple of requests,” he said.
“I love when you ask,” Carpathia said.
“I would like information about my family.”
“I will put someone on that right away. And?”
“I need a day or two to be trained by Mac in helicopters. I may be called upon to ferry someone from somewhere only a chopper can go.”
“Whatever you need, Captain, you know that.”
Rayford glanced at Mac, who looked puzzled. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Unless Mac was a closet Carpathia sympathizer, they had serious things to discuss. They wouldn’t be able to do that inside, where every room was likely wiretapped. Rayford wanted Mac for the kingdom. He would be a wonderful addition to the Tribulation Force, especially as long as they kept h
is true loyalties from Carpathia.
“I am weak from hunger, Cameron,” Tsion said. They had dug halfway through the rubble, Buck despairing more with every shovelful. There was plenty of evidence Chloe lived in this place, but none that she was still there, dead or alive.
“I can dig to the basement within the hour, Tsion. Start on the kitchen. You might find food there. I’m hungry too.”
Even with Tsion just around the side of the house, Buck felt overwhelmed with loneliness. His eyes stung with tears as he dug and grabbed and lifted and tossed in what was a likely futile effort to find his wife.
Early in the evening Buck climbed wearily out of the basement at the back corner. He dragged his shovel to the front, willing to help Tsion, but hoping the rabbi had found something to eat.
Tsion lifted a split and crushed secretary desk and flung it at Buck’s feet. “Oh, Cameron! I did not see you there.”
“Trying to get to the refrigerator?”
“Exactly. The power has been out for hours, but there must be something edible still in there.”
Two large beams were lodged in front of the refrigerator door. As Buck tried to help move them, his foot caught the edge of the broken desk, and papers and phone books flopped out onto the ground. One was the membership directory at New Hope Village Church. That might come in handy, he thought. He rolled it up and stuck it in his pants pocket.
A few minutes later Buck and Tsion sat back against the refrigerator, munching. That took the edge off his hunger, but Buck felt he could sleep for a week. The last thing he wanted was to finish digging. He dreaded evidence that Chloe had died. He was grateful Tsion finally didn’t need to converse. Buck needed to think. Where would they spend the night? What would they eat tomorrow? But for now, Buck wanted to just sit, eat, and let memories of Chloe wash over him.
How he loved her! Was it possible he had known her less than two years? She had seemed much older than twenty when they had met, and she had the bearing of someone ten or fifteen years older now. She had been a gift from God, more precious than anything he had ever received except salvation. What would his life have been worth following the Rapture, had it not been for Chloe? He would have been grateful and would have enjoyed that deep satisfaction of knowing he was right with God, but he would have also been lonely and alone.
Even now, Buck was grateful for his father-in-law and Amanda. Grateful for his friendship with Chaim Rosenzwieg. Grateful for his friendship with Tsion. He and Tsion would have to work on Chaim. The old Israeli was still enamored of Carpathia. That had to change. Chaim needed Christ. So did Ken Ritz, the pilot Buck had used so many times. He would have to check on Ken, make sure he was all right, see if he had planes that still flew. He pushed his food aside and hung his head, nearly asleep.
“I need to go back to Israel,” Tsion said.
“Hm?” Buck mumbled.
“I need to go back to my homeland.”
Buck raised his head and stared at Tsion. “We’re homeless,” he said. “We can barely drive to the next block. We don’t know we’ll survive tomorrow. You are a hunted criminal in Israel. You think they’ll forget about you, now that they have earthquake relief to do?”
“On the contrary. But I have to assume the bulk of the 144,000 witnesses, of whom I am one, must come from Israel. Not all of them will. Many will come from tribes all over the globe. But the greatest source of Jews is Israel. These will be zealous as Paul but new to the faith and untrained. I feel a call to meet them and greet them and teach them. They must be mobilized and sent out. They are already empowered.”
“Let’s assume I get you to Israel. How do I keep you alive?”
“What, you think you kept me alive on our flight across the Sinai?”
“I helped.”
“You helped? You amuse me, Cameron. In many ways, yes, I owe you my life. But you were as much in the way as I was. That was God’s work, and we both know it.”
Buck stood. “Fair enough. Still, taking you back to where you are a fugitive seems lunacy.”
He helped Tsion stand. “Send word ahead that I was killed in the earthquake,” the rabbi said. “Then I can go in disguise under one of those phony names you come up with.”
“Not without plastic surgery you won’t,” Buck said. “You’re a recognizable guy, even in Israel where everybody your age looks like you.”
The sunlight softened and faded as they finished picking through the kitchen. Tsion found plastic bags and wrapped food he would store in the car. Buck wrenched a few clothes out of the mess that had been his and Chloe’s bedroom while Tsion collected Chloe’s computer and phone from the garage.
Neither had the strength to climb over the pavement barrier, so they took the long way around. When they reached the Range Rover, both had to get in the passenger side.
“And so what do you think now?” Tsion said. “If Chloe were alive somewhere in there, she would have heard us and called out to us, would she not?”
Buck nodded miserably. “I’m trying to resign myself to the fact that she’s at the bottom. I was wrong, that’s all. She wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen or the basement. Maybe she ran to another part of the house. It would take heavy equipment to pull all the trash out of that place and find her. I can’t imagine leaving her there, but neither can I think about more digging tonight.”
Buck drove toward the church. “Should we stay in the shelter tonight?”
“I worry it is unstable,” Tsion said. “Another shift and it could come down on us.”
Buck drove on. He was a mile south of the church when he came to a neighborhood twisted and shaken but not broken. Many structures were damaged, but most still stood. A filling station, illuminated by butane torches, serviced a small line of cars.
“We’re not the only civilians who survived,” Tsion said.
Buck pulled into line. The man running the station had a shotgun propped up against the pumps. He shouted over a gasoline generator, “Cash only! Twenty-gallon limit! When it’s gone, it’s gone.”
Buck topped off his tank and said, “I’ll give you a thousand cash for—”
“The generator, yeah, I know. Take a number. I could get ten thousand for it by tomorrow.”
“Know where I could get another one?”
“I don’t know anything,” the man said wearily. “My house is gone. I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”
“Need some company?”
“Not especially. If you get desperate, come back. I wouldn’t turn you away.”
Buck couldn’t blame him. Where would you start and end taking in strangers at a time like this?
“Cameron,” Tsion began when Buck got back in the car, “I have been thinking. Do we know whether the computer technician’s wife knows about her husband?”
Buck shook his head. “I met his wife only one time. I don’t remember her name. Wait a minute.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the church directory. “Here it is,” he said. “Sandy. Let me call her.” He punched in the numbers, and while he was not surprised the call did not go through, he was encouraged to get as far as a recorded message that all circuits were busy. That was progress, at least.
“Where do they live?” Tsion said. “It’s not likely standing, but we could check.”
Buck read the street address. “I don’t know where that is.” He saw a squad car ahead, lights flashing. “Let’s ask him.” The cop was leaning against his car, having a cigarette. “You on duty?” Buck asked.
“Takin’ a break,” the cop said. “I’ve seen more in one day than I cared to see in a lifetime, if you know what I mean.” Buck showed him the address. “I don’t know what I’ll tell you as far as landmarks, but, ah, just follow me.”
“You sure?”
“There’s nothin’ more I can do for anybody tonight. In fact, I didn’t do anybody any good today. Follow me, and I’ll point out the street you want. Then I’m gone.”
A few minutes later Buck flashed his lights in thanks and pulled
in front of a duplex. Tsion opened the passenger door, but Buck put a hand on his arm.
“Let me see Chloe’s phone.”
Tsion crawled back and fished it from a pile he had wrapped in a blanket. Buck flipped it open and found it had been left on. He rummaged in the glove box and produced a cigarette lighter adapter that fit the phone and made it come to life. He touched a button that brought up the last dialed number. He sighed. It was his own.
Tsion nodded, and they got out. Buck pulled a flashlight from his emergency toolbox. The left side of the duplex had broken windows all around and a foundational brick wall that had crumbled and left the front of the place sagging. Buck got into position where he could shine his light through the windows.
“Empty,” he said. “No furniture.”
“Look,” Tsion said. A For Rent sign lay in the grass.
Buck looked again at the directory. “Donny and Sandy lived on the other side.”
The place looked remarkably intact. The drapes were open. Buck gripped the wrought iron railing on the steps and leaned over to flash his light into the living room. It looked lived-in. Buck tried the front door and found it unlocked. As he and Tsion tiptoed through the house, it became obvious something was amiss in the tiny breakfast nook at the back. Buck gaped, and Tsion turned away and bent at the waist.
Sandy Moore had been at the table with her newspaper and coffee when a huge oak tree crashed through the roof with such force that it flattened her and the heavy wood table. The dead girl’s finger was still curled around the cup handle, and her cheek rested on the Tempo section of the Chicago Tribune. Had not the rest of her body been compressed to inches, she might have appeared to be dozing.
“She and her husband must have died within seconds of each other,” Tsion said quietly. “Miles apart.”
Buck nodded in the faint light. “We should bury this girl.”
“We will never get her out from under that tree,” Tsion said.
“We have to try.”
In the alley Buck found planks, which they forced under the tree as levers, but a trunk with enough mass to destroy roof, wall, window, woman, and table would not be budged.
