Shaken

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  It was after 11 A.M. when Mark reached the bridge. The Jeep was gaining on them every minute. Several locals walking by the road had seen the truck and waved as they passed. Mark knew it was only a matter of time before the GC caught up.

  Mark stopped and looked upstream. Nothing.

  “What if they don’t show?” Janie said.

  “Like I said, we’ll have to—”

  Something banged on the back of the truck. Mark looked in the side mirror and saw Charlie carrying Darrion.

  Janie and Melinda rushed to open the truck while Conrad and Vicki sat up front. Mark drove quickly across the bridge.

  Vicki explained what had happened with Natalie in the tunnel and how they had escaped. Mark told them about the Jeep that was only a few minutes behind.

  “What now?” Conrad said.

  Mark shrugged. “The GC will cover this area pretty soon. We should find a car.”

  Vicki opened the glove compartment and counted their Nicks. “There’s not enough to buy something that would hold all of us.”

  Mark wound through the two-lane road into Illinois farm country. Few homes had survived the earthquake, but those that had were farmhouses.

  “If we keep driving in daylight they’re gonna find us,” Conrad said. “We should stash the truck and head out after dark.”

  “Maybe Carl can help us,” Vicki said. “Where’s the phone?”

  Mark stared at Conrad. “Do you have it?”

  “I thought you were bringing it.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Great.”

  “It’s okay,” Vicki said. “I brought the laptop.”

  “If the GC find that phone and trace its calls, Carl’s toast and so are the others we’ve called.”

  “We have to worry about getting out of here,” Vicki said. “Then we can alert the others about the phone.”

  Mark turned up the radio as the Peacekeeper in the Jeep reported. “Just spoke with some locals. We’re not far behind them.”

  Vicki leaned forward and looked out the window.

  “Pull over. I have an idea.”

  Carl was an hour from the Georgia state line when he stopped for gas at a small station. He tried the kids’ cell phone, but again it was listed as unavailable.

  Carl ran into the station and found a young man behind the counter reading a magazine. When Carl barged in, the boy nearly fell back in his chair.

  Carl flashed his identification and said, “Has the Global Community been in contact with you?”

  “No, sir. Why should they?”

  “There’s been an escape. GC officer stole a Jeep like the one out there. This is exactly the kind of place where he’d fuel up.”

  “So you want me to keep an eye out for him?”

  Carl wrote his own cell phone number on a scrap of paper. “I’m going to gas up and head west. I think he’s on his way to Alabama. If you see any GC in this area, call me immediately.”

  The boy took the paper and studied the number. Carl handed him enough Nicks to pay for the gas and ran to the pump.

  “Here’s your change,” the boy yelled when Carl was finished.

  “Keep it!”

  Carl turned on his phone and dialed the kids in Illinois as he raced along.

  A female answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  As Conrad rode the rickety bike toward the road, Vicki closed the barn door. “We’re going to stay in here until dark.”

  “Where’s Conrad going?” Shelly said.

  “He’s riding along the road so that when the GC come along, he can tell them which way we went.”

  “Great idea,” Charlie said.

  Vicki checked Darrion’s wound, but the others had already bandaged it and given her aspirin for the pain. Darrion said she was fine and wanted to rest.

  Mark called from the other side of the barn. “Here comes the Jeep. Let’s hope they buy Conrad’s story.”

  Looking through the small spaces between boards, Vicki watched the Jeep speed past Conrad and nearly run him off the road. It slowed, backed up, and stopped.

  As Vicki squinted to see what was happening, someone walked past the barn a few inches from her face. A man wearing a Chicago Cubs hat opened a smaller door and stepped inside. He carried a shotgun.

  “You people stay right where you are.”

  29

  VICKI gathered the others and stared at the man. He looked the satellite truck over, took off his hat, and scratched his head. “Why’d you park this thing in my barn?”

  Mark looked at Vicki. She took a step forward and said, “We needed a place to rest until tonight. I promise we’ll be on our way as soon—”

  “I heard something on the radio ’bout somebody stealin’ a big old truck from the Global Community. There’s a reward for anybody finding it.”

  Vicki glanced at the others. Janie turned pale and shook. Charlie put an arm around her.

  “How much?” Mark said, trying to smile.

  The farmer ignored him and looked at Darrion. “What happened to your head?”

  “I hit it on a rock. It’s okay.”

  The man spit on the floor. “You got any guns or weapons of any kind?”

  Vicki shook her head and looked at Mark. “We don’t, do we?”

  “No.”

  The radio squawked in the truck. “We just talked with a kid who says the truck went by here a few minutes ago headed south. We’re on it.”

  The farmer squinted at the kids.

  Just then Conrad pushed the bike into the barn and stopped when he saw the man.

  “You got any more people, or is this it?”

  “This is all of us,” Vicki said.

  “You hungry?”

  The kids all said they were, and the man led them out of the barn toward the farmhouse. Cornstalks stood brown and brittle in the field.

  “It’s been a pretty dry summer,” Mark said.

  “Yep. My wife says God’s not too happy with us right now.”

  Janie turned. “She believes in God?”

  The man waved the gun toward the house. “Just get on inside.”

  A dog barked at the door. Cinder-block steps led to a rickety screened-in porch. A child’s toys were stacked in the corner.

  “Ginny?” the man yelled.

  A heavyset woman opened the door and stepped outside. A long braid of brown hair hung down her back. Vicki and the others gasped when they saw she had the mark of the believer.

  Carl hesitated, wondering if he should hang up the phone or talk. The voice didn’t sound like any of the kids from the schoolhouse.

  “Hello?” the girl said again.

  “Where’s Vicki?” Carl said.

  “Who is this?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  The girl sounded peeved. “I don’t have time for this.

  Are you GC or Young Trib Force?”

  “Both.”

  “Good. I’m Natalie, a Morale Monitor. I’m at the schoolhouse now.” She gave Carl an update about Vicki and the others and said, “Your turn.”

  “I’m the guy who got them on the air. I’m trying to get to South Carolina and meet with some of Vicki’s friends there. Do you know where they’re taking the truck?”

  “No idea,” Natalie said. “I led the GC on a wild-goose chase into the woods. Now I’m watching the schoolhouse burn.”

  “You’d better get out while you can,” Carl said.

  “I’m okay. I do have some good news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If Vicki and the others can stay out of sight until Monday, they’ll be okay. I just saw a document in the lead Peacekeeper’s vehicle. It calls for a freeze on arrests or detainment, even of enemies of the Global Community, until after the Gala.”

  Vicki learned that Bo and Ginny Shairton had lived on the farm for nearly twenty years. They had tried to have children but couldn’t and had adopted a girl from overseas five years earlier.

  “When Amelia disappea
red, my world just about fell apart,” Ginny said. “I guess I could have run away from God, but somehow I thought he was drawing me closer to him. That’s when I came upon the Web site of Tsion Ben-Judah. I prayed the prayer not long after that and have been trying to convince Bo here ever since.” Ginny looked at him and smiled. “He’s been holding back for some reason.”

  Vicki asked to see Ginny’s computer, and the woman led her to a pink bedroom in the front of the house. Ginny ran her hand across the bedspread and sat. Teddy bears were lined up in front of the pillows.

  “This was her room. I couldn’t bear to take her things out of the closet or change the color of the walls. Bo thought I was going crazy, but I felt like I was closer to her somehow. I moved the computer in here and looked for answers. That’s when I read Dr. Ben-Judah.”

  Vicki logged onto the kids’ Web site, www.theunderground-online.com and looked for any new messages. Ginny’s computer was slow, and with each click of the screen more and more e-mails popped up. Some had seen her broadcast at their satellite school and wanted more information, and many others reported they had prayed Vicki’s prayer.

  Vicki scrolled through the messages and called the others. One message marked “urgent” caught Mark’s eye. Vicki opened it and read the message from Carl out loud:

  “Don’t know if the GC can see this, so here goes. I’m on the run. Just talked with N.B. at the s. She has your phone. I’m trying to hook up with your friends T. and L. Can you have them call me? You know the number.

  “One more thing. Stay out of sight until Monday, the opening of the Gala. The GC will effect a freeze on arrests, even for people like you, at the start of the Gala week. Stay hidden until then and you’ll be able to travel safely.

  “Thanks for any help you can give. JC is the true P.

  CM”

  “What does all that mean?” Ginny said.

  “It’s from our friend Carl,” Vicki said. “Natalie has our phone back at the schoolhouse. Carl’s trying to get to South Carolina to hide out with Tom and Luke Gowin.”

  Vicki hit the forward button and copied the message to Tom and Luke. She included Carl’s cell phone number and an idea for a possible meeting place.

  Ginny went to the kitchen, and the kids gathered around the computer. “I think it’s clear what we have to do,” Vicki said.

  Mark nodded. “We hide out here for a couple of days, then stick with Darrion’s plan about Wisconsin.”

  “Can we trust the GC to stand by their freeze?” Conrad said. “I mean, if they see that satellite truck, are they just going to wave at us?”

  Vicki scowled. “We’ll have to travel at night.”

  Ginny returned. “I’ve talked it over with Bo, and he agrees with me. We want you kids to stay as long as you’d like. Permanently if you want.”

  Vicki smiled and took Ginny’s hand. “That’s sweet.”

  Bo walked in and put an arm on Ginny’s shoulder. “And if you decide to go, you’re not takin’ that monster out in the barn. You can have my Suburban. It’s old and uses oil, but it’ll seat nine and there’s room in the back for supplies.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Vicki said.

  “I do,” Charlie said. “We ought to pray and thank God for everything he’s done.”

  The kids and Ginny knelt by Amelia’s bed. Darrion began, and then everyone spoke in sentence prayers, thanking God for giving them the schoolhouse, for safety, and for keeping them together. Mark prayed for Carl, and Vicki prayed for Natalie.

  Finally Charlie prayed, “And, God, we thank you for these two people who took us in and gave us some food. I don’t know what’s holding Mr. Bo back from praying to you, but I ask you to help him do it real soon before it’s too late.”

  Vicki looked at Bo, thinking Charlie’s prayer might upset him. Instead, the man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and knelt. “I’ve always believed in the good Lord. I thought that was all you had to do. But my wife has changed so much since she read those messages on the computer, and I’ve seen it’s real with you kids. Real enough to stand up to the Global Community.”

  Bo leaned forward and put his hands on the bed. “I’ve never been a prayin’ man, so I’m not exactly sure what to say.”

  “It’s easy,” Charlie said. “Do you believe you’ve done bad things?”

  “Sure. Nobody’s perfect.”

  “Do you believe Jesus died to pay for the bad things and that he rose from the dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  Charlie looked at Vicki. “Go ahead,” she said.

  “Pray with me,” Charlie said. “God, I’m sorry for all the bad things I’ve done, and I ask you right now to forgive me. I believe you loved me enough to die for me on the cross. I ask you to come into my life and save me and be my Lord today and forever. Amen.”

  Bo whispered the prayer as Charlie prayed. Ginny smiled, tears streaming down her face. When he was finished, Bo looked at his wife, then at each of the kids.

  “I’ll be dogged. You people weren’t kiddin’ about that thing on your forehead, were you?”

  Late Saturday evening, Carl reached Beaufort, South Carolina. He had talked with Tom Gowin by cell phone and agreed on a time and place to meet.

  The smell of salt water and the incoming tide overwhelmed him. He loved being close to the ocean. He had taken back roads away from the water, but now he sat back and enjoyed the aroma of the low country.

  His cell phone rang. It was the boy at the gas station in Georgia. “You told me to call if I saw any GC. A couple carloads just asked a bunch of questions and left.”

  “Did you tell them about me?”

  “Of course. I told ’em you were already on that guy’s trail headed toward Alabama.”

  “Good,” Carl said. “Did you tell them I asked you to call me?”

  “I didn’t think to do that, sir,” the boy said. “Do you want me to go after them and—”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll call them if I need to get in touch.

  Now do one more thing for me.”

  “Name it.”

  Carl pulled up to the site of the old Christian radio station, where the kids had first met Tom and Luke, and parked near the back. “I noticed you like to read.”

  “Everything I can get my hands on.”

  “Have access to a computer?”

  “Sure.”

  Carl told the boy to find www.theunderground-online.com Web site and read what it says. “If you have questions, call me back.”

  A few minutes later, Carl heard movement in the bushes. He stepped out of the Jeep and whistled twice. Tom and Luke Gowin stepped out of the dark and shook hands with Carl. “You’re safe now,” Tom said.

  Luke got in the Jeep and started the engine. “You go with Tom, and I’ll put this in our motor pool.”

  “What’s that mean?” Carl said.

  Tom smiled. “He’s going to drive it off the dock so the GC won’t find it. Get it? Motor pool?”

  Carl chuckled. It was the first time in a long time that he felt safe enough to laugh.

  30

  LIONEL shook Judd awake early Sunday morning, excited about what he had seen on the local news. “How would you like to see Mac McCullum today?”

  Judd rubbed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “Carpathia and the regional potentates are in Tel Aviv. They won’t fly here until tomorrow. But news reports say the GC pilots are giving tours of the Phoenix 216.”

  “That’s probably just for dignitaries.”

  “I think it’s first come, first served. General Zimmerman said he’d provide the car and driver, and he offered to call one of his contacts in security and arrange the VIP treatment.”

  Judd jumped out of bed and threw on his clothes. “Mr. Stein okay with this?”

  “He said he thought it’d be good for us to get away for a few hours.”

  “What about Sam?”

  Lionel shook his head. “He’s helping Yitzhak with something.”r />
  Judd grabbed his shoes. “Let’s go.”

  General Zimmerman’s car was equipped with everything from a television to bulletproof glass windows. There was an intercom to communicate with the driver and ice-cold sodas in a small refrigerator.

  The traffic coming toward Jerusalem was incredible. Already a million visitors had packed the city, and it looked to Lionel like there would be hundreds of thousands more by day’s end.

  The trip to Tel Aviv went quickly, but Lionel couldn’t help noticing signs of devastation. The GC had done a good job of cleaning up dead bodies slain by the horsemen. But those who were still alive looked like walking shells. They had lost husbands, wives, children, and friends. And now, Nicolae Carpathia was throwing a party. Lionel shook his head.

  When they reached Tel Aviv, the driver got as close to the airport as he could and parked. The terminal was jammed with people waiting to see Carpathia’s plane, so Lionel and Judd walked with him to the tarmac of Ben Gurion Airport.

  Judd sighed. “Let’s get out of here. There’s no way we’ll get in with all these people.”

  The driver held up a hand. “Not so fast. You’ve come a long way. Let me try.”

  Lionel and Judd waited by a fountain as people of all ages snaked through the terminal. People spoke Italian, German, French, Spanish, and a host of Middle Eastern languages. Some wore the ornate ceremonial dress of their native country. A few young people with backpacks looked like they were hiking through Israel.

  The driver returned, smiling. “You’re in luck. Come with me.”

  They walked around the lines to a security door at the side of the terminal. The driver showed a piece of paper to a guard, and the woman scanned them with a metal detector. When they were outside, another guard led them to one of Carpathia’s planes.

  “We want to see Captain McCullum’s plane,” Judd said. “He’s a friend of the family.”

  The guard used his walkie-talkie and took them to the front of a line. Others behind them grumbled. “What’s so special about them?” Lionel heard one person say.