Judd watched the news about travel and was shocked at how hard it was to find flights. Smoke and fire and sulfur continued to affect every aspect of life.
Judd also checked the Global Community Web site based in New Babylon. Clearly, many workers had been killed by the latest plague, and by the looks of the Web site, many of them were in the technical area.
Though Nicolae Carpathia rarely talked about anyone but himself, he wasn’t afraid to blame Tsion Ben-Judah for the deaths around the world. Judd found one newscast fascinating. Carpathia was in rare form.
There is probably no one more dangerous on the face of the planet as this religious zealot, Tsion Ben-Judah. The man tried to kill me before thousands of witnesses at Teddy Kollek Stadium in Jerusalem more than a year ago. He is in league with the two old radicals who spit their hatred from the Wailing Wall and boast that they have poisoned the drinking water. Is it so much of a stretch to believe that this cult would wage germ warfare on the rest of the world? They themselves clearly have developed some antidote, because you do not hear of one of them falling victim. Rather, they have invented a myth no thinking man or woman can be expected to swallow. They would have us believe that our loved ones and friends are being killed by roving bands of giant horsemen riding half horses/half lions, which breathe fire like dragons. Of course, the believers, the saints, can see these monstrous beasts.
Carpathia went on to mock believers and accuse them of murder.
The Ben-Judah-ites cannot persuade us with their intolerant, hateful attacks, so they choose to kill us!
Judd shook his head. Anyone who knew the truth could see through the man’s lies, but most people followed Carpathia like a god. Judd could see what was coming. If Nicolae said it enough times, he could turn the whole world against believers in Christ. It was hard enough to stay away from the Global Community as it was. What would happen when the Morale Monitors and every citizen kept watch for followers of Christ?
Vicki looked for Melinda in front of the arena. The next session was about to begin, but Vicki didn’t want to stop.
The hallway cleared as speakers inside boomed with music and voices. A Morale Monitor walked up to Vicki and said, “Can I help you?” Vicki could tell the girl meant, “Why aren’t you inside where you belong?”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. I really wanted her to hear the first session with Nicolae, but—”
“You mean Potentate Carpathia,” the girl corrected.
“Right, Potentate Carpathia. Anyway, I don’t see her, so I’ll head back inside.”
“What does your friend look like?”
As Vicki described Melinda, the Morale Monitor inched closer. “What’s your friend’s name?”
Vicki hesitated. Melinda surely wouldn’t have used her own name. But she didn’t have a fake ID. “Uh, why? Have you seen someone who looks like her?”
“Come with me,” the Morale Monitor said.
Vicki followed a few paces, but when they headed for an identification machine, Vicki ran.
“Stop! In the name of the Global Community, I order you to stop!”
The girl pressed a button on her radio that alerted other Morale Monitors. Vicki ran down the concrete hallway. She reached for a door that led to the arena. Before she could open it, two Morale Monitors burst through.
Mark scanned the crowd, looking for Melinda. There were thousands of faces. He moved to an upper tier and sat next to a boy with binoculars. “Mind if I borrow those for a minute?”
“Sure,” the boy said, handing them over. “Did you see Carpathia?”
“Yeah, that was something, wasn’t it?”
“The guy that’s on right now is their top education man.”
“Quiet!” someone in front of them whispered.
Mark scanned the crowd as Dr. Neal Damosa talked about the new world kids were facing. The man paced the stage at a huge arena in Atlanta. His hair was neatly cut, and he wore an expensive suit.
“Probably everyone here and everybody watching by satellite believes that Potentate Carpathia is right when he says there has never been a time in history when we need our young people more.”
The audience applauded politely. Carpathia’s a tough act to follow, Mark thought.
“If you don’t step up at this critical time, who will? If you don’t learn to embrace the truths taught by the Global Community and begin to spread them to others, who will? If not you, who? If not now, when?”
A murmur spread through the auditorium as Dr. Damosa went into the audience. Kids turned and watched him. Lighting men fumbled, trying to keep a spotlight on him.
“What’s this guy doing?” Mark said to the boy beside him.
“I think he’s looking for somebody.”
Dr. Damosa placed a hand against his earpiece, nodded, and walked a little farther.
“Is there a Stan Barber in this section?” Dr. Damosa put his hand to his ear again and nodded. “Stanley? Are you here, Stanley Barber? Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Kids giggled and laughed as Dr. Damosa called the name again and again.
Finally, in another section, a young man of about seventeen stood. He had the unmistakable mark of the believer on his forehead. “I’m Stan Barber.”
Dr. Damosa ran forward with a wireless microphone. He asked Stan a few questions, and Stan answered with one- and two-word answers. He was clearly nervous.
“I don’t like this,” Mark muttered.
“This doctor guy’s cool,” the boy beside Mark said.
“Stan, let me ask you something. What did you think of Potentate Carpathia’s message today?”
Stan took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose it was about like any other message by him.”
“Do you think it was good, bad, somewhere in between?”
Stan squirmed. He folded his arms in front of him and looked away from Dr. Damosa.
“You don’t want to answer that because you’re a follower of Dr. Ben-Judah, aren’t you?”
The crowd gasped. Mark closed his eyes and prayed, God, help this brother get through this situation right now. Give him the right words.
“The truth is,” Dr. Damosa continued, “you hate everything about the Global Community, and you’ve been working with other teenagers in different areas to fight everything we stand for.”
The camera pulled in close to Stan’s face. The boy was sweating. Dr. Damosa read Stan’s address, gave his phone number and e-mail address, and gave information about the secret church he attended each week. “We’ve had our eye on you and your friends down here for some time. Nice of you to drop in on our party.”
Kids in the audience began to boo.
“Let’s keep Stan right here and go to our site near Cleveland. I understand we have someone there who agrees with Stan.”
The satellite feed clicked and crackled until a woman appeared with a microphone in front of an equally full arena. “I’m looking for a Deborah Mardy? Deborah?”
One by one believers were called out from different locations. Mark wondered how the GC could have found them all.
“Throw them out!” someone yelled.
“Get rid of the bums!” another said.
The rest of the crowd picked up the chant, and the noise was almost deafening.
Finally, the arena settled when Dr. Damosa came back on camera. “Now, on to a location near Chicago.”
Mark stood and looked for the person with the microphone. He saw an older man coming down the steps toward him. No microphone.
His heart beating wildly, Mark looked at the screen. A Morale Monitor was outside the arena. “Dr. D., we have someone here who not only follows the teaching of Tsion Ben-Judah, but is also on the wanted list of the Morale Monitors.”
Mark gasped. Melinda.
Vicki was nearly knocked down by the Morale Monitors who came through the door. One caught her by the arm and helped her stay on her feet.
“Boy, am I glad you guys are here,” Vicki said, out of bre
ath. “That girl over there needs some help.”
“Come on!” one boy said to the other.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the other said.
“Yeah, go ahead and see if you can help her.” Vicki rushed into the darkened arena and let her eyes focus. She looked at the screen and couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Melinda.
A woman with a microphone was beaming. “We set up a booth and offered free material from the rebel Ben-Judah. When this girl stopped, one of the other Monitors recognized her. She’s going to have some explaining to do back at headquarters.”
Applause broke out in the arena. Vicki turned to find a seat and was met by three men in uniform.
The late spring sun had just set on the horizon over Jerusalem when Judd sat down to write an e-mail to Tsion Ben-Judah. He knew the man was busy and probably didn’t have time to write back, but he wanted to explain what had happened in the last few weeks.
Lionel shouted from the back of the house, “Come here, quick!”
Judd ran to the patio and stood next to Sam. Mr. Stein was there with Yitzhak, crowded onto the small space.
Lionel pointed in the direction of some dark clouds. Judd looked closer and realized they weren’t clouds. In the glint of the setting sun were millions of horses and riders. Smoke and fire swirled in black and yellow plumes. As they approached the ancient city, Judd shuddered. The massive horsemen looked angry and ready for death. The horses galloped faster and faster, rumbling toward the city. Their due time had come. All the other deaths by sulfur and fire were a prelude to this stampede. The breastplates of the riders flashed.
“Have mercy on us, O God,” Mr. Stein prayed softly. “You have permitted us to see this cavalry of demons on their final attack. Let this assault turn many from the evil one to you. May you be glorified forever.”
As Mr. Stein finished, the riders swept past the patio in a frightening display of power. Judd rushed to the computer and found the latest news. Fire and smoke and sulfur enveloped the globe. The 200 million horsemen were loose for a final attack.
13
AS THE crowd in the arena wildly applauded, three uniformed men approached Vicki Byrne. One said something into a radio as Vicki concentrated on the screen. She had hoped she was wrong, but it was true. The Morale Monitor outside the arena had nabbed her friend Melinda Bentley.
“We believe there are more Ben-Judah followers inside,” the Morale Monitor on the screen said, “and we’re going to conduct a thorough search before this session is over. Right now, let’s go to Houston, Texas, and find out what’s going on there.”
The scene switched to a domed stadium, where it appeared other believers were about to be exposed by the GC plot.
Vicki wanted to help Melinda, but she feared the men beside her. One was a GC Peacekeeper. The other two were younger and wore Morale Monitor uniforms.
Vicki scanned the crowd for a familiar face or someone with the mark of the believer. The auditorium was built in a circle and used for everything from sporting events to rock concerts. She saw no one she recognized. Suddenly, the Peacekeeper grabbed Vicki’s arm. “Come with us.”
“What did I do?”
Kids nearby turned and shushed them, then stopped when they saw the Peacekeeper.
The man leaned close. “You were running from one of our Morale Monitors. You know the girl we have in custody. Now come quietly or we’ll disable you.” The man flashed a stun gun.
“Let me get my purse,” she said.
The man let go of her for an instant, just long enough for Vicki to break free. She rushed down the row, climbing over legs, stumbling as she stepped on people’s shoes.
“We’ve got a runner!” the man yelled into his radio.
Someone in the crowd shouted, “She’s one of the Judah-ites!”
Vicki made it to the end of the row and headed down the steps. Another Morale Monitor came toward her so she turned and headed for the top. Seconds later, another boy in uniform descended toward her.
Vicki spotted a railing and darted into the crowd. Some scooted out of her way while others tried to grab her. She fought to the railing and looked over the side. Too far down. As the men converged on her, she swung her legs over the side and eased down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she prepared to let go.
But a boy grabbed her arm. His T-shirt sported the face of Nicolae Carpathia and the words The Hope of the World. “I got her! Help!” he yelled.
Vicki let go of the railing and lunged at the boy with her free hand. She missed, but the boy let go and Vicki fell toward the concrete.
Judd Thompson Jr. knew from reading Tsion Ben-Judah’s letters to other believers that the horsemen would kill many more people. Tsion had written that as the world came closer to the forty-second month into the Tribulation, the death toll from the 200 million horsemen would reach a third of the population.
Judd ran back to the patio and joined his friends. He had seen the angry horses before, but never this many. Hundreds and hundreds of thousands stampeded the old city of Jerusalem. The horses had the heads of lions, and fire and smoke poured from their nostrils and mouths. The riders wore gleaming breastplates. Flashes of color nearly blinded Judd, and he had to turn away.
The enormous beasts made no sound as they galloped. It was like a horror movie with the sound muted, but this was scarier than anything Judd had ever seen.
He counted nine people on the street, all unaware of the angels of death ready to strike down anyone God would let them. The people coughed and choked as the smoke billowed around them. All nine fell to their knees and grabbed their throats. One man pulled his shirt over his head in an attempt to block the suffocating smoke. Three collapsed into the gutter and lay motionless.
Mr. Stein knelt and closed his eyes. “I have never seen anything so horrible.”
The army of horsemen and their animals kept coming, storming the city in search of more victims. Judd shook his head.
Lionel leaned close. “This makes all the other attacks look like picnics.”
“You think this is happening to the kids back in Illinois?”
Lionel frowned. “From what I’m reading off the Internet, this is happening everywhere.”
Vicki tried to land on her feet, but she fell backward and smacked the concrete floor, stunning her. When her head hit, it almost knocked her out, but she somehow managed to struggle to her feet. Her legs weren’t cooperating, but she realized she hadn’t broken or sprained anything. Kids leaned over the railing, pointing and shouting. Two Morale Monitors sprinted down the steps.
Vicki lurched into another hallway and staggered around a corner. She rammed into someone full force, and they both went down.
It was Mark. “Keep going,” he said, helping her back up. “I’ll stall them.”
Vicki raced on, hearing him yell something at the Morale Monitors. As she neared a concession area, she heard footsteps and ducked into a rest room.
Mark Eisman waited until the Morale Monitors were nearly through the tunnel when he stepped out and collided with one of them. “Are you looking for that girl?”
“Yeah, which way?” the Morale Monitor said.
Mark pointed away from Vicki. They turned down the hall, talking into their radios as they ran. Mark looked for Vicki, but she was gone.
He went back inside the arena and noticed a flurry of activity in the stands. Morale Monitors and GC Peacekeepers were searching the stands. A local announcer interrupted the live GC feed on the screen and asked for the cooperation of the crowd. The man described Vicki and asked anyone who saw her to report to the nearest Morale Monitor.
“This girl is a Judah-ite,” the man said, “and is dangerous. There is a reward for anyone who helps us arrest her or any other Judah-ite.”
The crowd seemed energized. Many looked around while others got up and moved toward the nearest exits.
Suddenly, Mark noticed something strange on the huge video screen. People in Texas were panicking, ma
ny running from the domed stadium. The picture switched to a civic center in Memphis, where kids were also running from their seats in terror.
Mark shook his head. Only one thing could scare people that bad.
Vicki found the last stall in the bathroom empty. She quickly swung the door shut behind her and locked it. She took a moment to catch her breath, then looked underneath the stalls. She was alone.
Vicki had to get out of the building without the GC seeing her, but how? Mark or Darrion or Shelly could help, but with thousands of kids in the arena, finding them seemed impossible.
The rest-room door burst open. Vicki held her breath, her heart beating furiously. She sat and raised her feet off the floor. Someone kicked in the first stall door, then the next.
The intruder kicked Vicki’s stall door, and when it didn’t open jiggled the lock. Vicki saw the standard GCissue black boots under the door.
She scooted as far back as she could but soon heard what she dreaded. “Global Community Morale Monitor! Unlock this door!”
Vicki opened the stall and a female Morale Monitor stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it.
“You’re a Judah-ite,” the girl said, “the one we’re looking for?”
Vicki studied the girl’s face under her uniform cap as footsteps sounded outside.
“Natalie?” someone shouted from the hall.
“In the bathroom!” the girl said.
“Find anything?”
“Nobody,” Natalie said. “Had to make a pit stop.”
“Get out here. We need your help.”
“Why did you do that?” Vicki whispered.
Natalie pushed back her hat, and Vicki saw the mark of the believer. Vicki shuddered. “I thought I was caught.”
“You will be if you don’t get out of here fast,” Natalie said.
“Wait. How did you become a believer?”
“Long story,” Natalie said. “No time now.”
Shaken Page 9
