Deceived

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “What about him?”

  Another pause. “I don’t know. I guess …”

  “What?” Vicki said warily.

  “I think Z-Van and his crew are headed to the plane. I need to go.”

  “Okay, be careful.”

  “I will. Good-bye.”

  Vicki clicked the Off button, and Shelly came back in the room. The two shared notes about his call, and Shelly said she thought Judd was way out of line.

  When Vicki told her that Judd had mentioned Chad, Shelly threw up her hands. “I thought you’d appreciate me stirring up the competitive juices.”

  Vicki frowned. “I don’t need anybody competing over me. We don’t have time for those games.” She lay back and put an arm over her forehead. “Do you remember anyone named Ben or Brad?”

  Shelly shook her head. “Why?”

  “I went to sleep thinking about Cheryl and her baby. Part of me thinks she should place the child with someone older who will know how to care for it.”

  “Like Lenore?” Shelly said.

  “Lenore would be perfect. But when I woke up, those two names came to me and I can’t figure out why.”

  Shelly whistled. “Maybe I can make Judd jealous of them too.”

  “Maybe it was too much cinnamon bread last night, but I can’t help thinking it means something.”

  Judd and Lionel retreated to the back of the plane as Westin raced through warning that Z-Van was near. “You guys stay out of sight and they’ll probably never notice you.”

  Judd peeked into the main cabin after they were airborne and noticed that Z-Van’s manager and his band members now had the mark of Carpathia. They joked and toasted each other.

  Z-Van pulled out a piece of paper and asked for quiet. “His Excellency gave me this before we left. He even has a melody picked out for it.”

  “He wrote this himself?” one of the band members said.

  “Here’s how it goes.” Z-Van lifted his head and closed his eyes, as if he were uttering something sacred.

  Hail Carpathia, our lord and risen king;

  Hail Carpathia, rules o’er everything.

  We’ll worship him until we die;

  He’s our beloved Nicolae.

  Hail Carpathia, our lord and risen king.

  People in the room clapped and asked Z-Van to sing it again. Soon they all joined in with an off-key version of the hymn to the Antichrist.

  Lionel shook his head. “I think we made a big mistake coming with these people.”

  Two days later, Vicki and the others joined in the basement hideout as Mark called the kids together. He stood at the computer with an e-mail message opened. “This came on the Web site early this morning.”

  Dear Young Tribulation Force,

  I need your help. My name is Claudia Zander. I was Natalie Bishop’s roommate. Before she died, she talked with me about God. I didn’t want to listen at first, but now that she’s gone, I think what she said might be true.

  She told me not to take the mark of Carpathia, and I’ve only got a few more days to comply.

  Please write back.

  Claudia

  Mark looked at Vicki. “Did Natalie really have a roommate?”

  Vicki nodded. “Natalie said she was a rabid follower of Carpathia.”

  “Then it must be a trick,” Conrad said.

  Vicki pursed her lips. “What if it isn’t? Can we afford to not try and help her?”

  Judd and Lionel walked the streets of Tel Aviv, where the GC planned to open the first loyalty mark application site to the public. It was a festive atmosphere, almost like a carnival, as people gawked at the sub-potentates’ vehicles on their way to meet with Carpathia.

  Judd couldn’t wait to get to Jerusalem to see Sam and Mr. Stein, but Westin had convinced them to stay until the whole group went there. “You don’t want to miss Z-Van’s debut of his new songs, right?”

  Judd had rolled his eyes. The thought of more songs devoted to praising Carpathia turned his stomach. What he really wanted to see was the man who would stand up to Carpathia, as foretold in Scripture. Though Judd didn’t know for sure, he suspected it would be Tsion Ben-Judah, and he wondered if the man might spare a few moments with him.

  The streets were packed with people from all over the world waiting to see the risen potentate in person. People spoke in different languages and were animated about what would happen in Jerusalem. Some said Carpathia would destroy the Judah-ites the same way he had the two prophets, Eli and Moishe. Others said there were massive protests planned by Judah-ites and Orthodox Jews and that a special weapon was being shipped to Jerusalem to annihilate anyone who came against the Global Community’s chosen one.

  “Why do they need a weapon when they have god himself,” one woman said, “and his right-hand man, the Most High Reverend Fortunato?”

  Streets clogged with cars and pedestrians. Judd and Lionel followed the crowds to the seashore, where an amphitheater had been quickly constructed. One area was overrun with people standing in line, and Judd went for a closer look. He wasn’t surprised to find it was the site where citizens would take Carpathia’s mark.

  Judd and Lionel skirted the masses and stood on the shore where they could see the stage and not be hemmed in by the crowds. A few minutes later, a caravan of cars pulled up and the most powerful people in the world walked onto the platform. The crowd went wild.

  Nicolae Carpathia thanked everyone for welcoming them so warmly. He talked about the improvements in the world since the Global Community had come into existence and said that he felt a renewed energy for the task ahead.

  The crowd laughed when Nicolae attributed his vigor to the “three days of the best sleep I’ve ever had.” They cheered again when the potentate said there would be a special musical presentation by the most popular entertainer in the world.

  First, he introduced Leon Fortunato, head of all Carpathia worship. Leon knelt and kissed Nicolae’s hand, then moved to the podium. “Allow me to teach you a new anthem that focuses on the one who died for us and now lives for us.”

  “Uh-oh, here it comes.” Lionel sighed.

  The crowd quickly picked up the lyrics to “Hail Carpathia, Our Lord and Risen King” and sang along. Judd turned when he noticed a loud droning and saw a sleek aircraft heading over the city toward the site.

  “As you can tell,” Carpathia said, taking the podium again, “we have another surprise for you. The plane you see in the distance carries not only the equipment needed for this site, but also a brief display of its capabilities, ably demonstrated by the pilot of my own Phoenix 216, Captain Mac McCullum. Enjoy.”

  With that, Carpathia stepped back and was surrounded by the other sub-potentates at the back of the stage. The jet screamed over the crowd, very low and fast, and surged toward the Mediterranean Sea.

  “I guess Mac is still employed by the GC,” Lionel whispered. “Wonder when he’ll leave?”

  The plane flew so low it looked like it skimmed the water, then turned and flew over the stage. Judd noticed that a few of the sub-potentates wanted to duck, but they kept their places, squinting to see the plane speed past.

  The plane eventually flew out over the water and shot straight up. When it reached the peak of its climb, it seemed to stop in midair and drift toward the ground.

  “Something’s not right,” Lionel said.

  The nose of the plane turned and plunged toward the water at a frightening speed. People around Judd laughed and pointed, thinking this was part of the show. “Pull out, pull out,” Judd whispered as the plane rocketed toward earth.

  But it did not pull out. The plane, a technological marvel of the Global Community, slammed into the beach at hundreds of miles an hour. The shock of seeing the sure death of Mac McCullum and his crew, along with the explosion of the aircraft itself, sent Judd to his knees.

  “Please, God, not another death among the Tribulation Force.”

  13

  JUDD Thompson Jr. closed his eyes as a plum
e of smoke rose from the aircraft wreckage less than a mile away. The jet had slammed into the beach at hundreds of miles an hour, followed by a deafening explosion. Judd’s ears still rang as he knelt on the beach.

  Judd’s friend, Mac McCullum, was piloting the plane. Judd tried to imagine the horror of those last few seconds. Chang Wong had told Judd that Mac and a few other believers who worked inside the Global Community were trying to escape. Why hadn’t Mac pulled the plane out of the plunge to earth?

  A siren sounded from emergency vehicles in the distance, but everyone knew they could send a thousand ambulances to the crater and it wouldn’t make any difference. Lionel Washington put a hand on Judd’s shoulder.

  People near Judd and Lionel, as well as those who surrounded the platform, fell silent. Angry black-and-orange flames billowed from the crash site as the blaze melted the Quasi Two.

  A man several feet from them turned to his wife. “I hope they have a record of passengers on that plane. They’ll never find any bodies.”

  The man’s wife covered her face. “This was supposed to be such a happy day for the potentate.”

  Judd looked at Lionel. “The way that thing came down, you think it was sabotage?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If somebody found out about Mac and the others, the GC could have made it crash.”

  Lionel shook his head. “With all these people around? Plus, the plane had equipment for the mark application. They wouldn’t have destroyed their own machines.”

  The eerie silence continued until a woman cried out, “Save them, Potentate!”

  Z-Van, the singer Judd and Lionel were traveling with, stood at the back of a group of dignitaries. He leaned forward and spoke to a man in front of him as Nicolae walked to the microphone.

  Carpathia held up a hand and tried to soothe the masses with his voice. “Peace be unto you. My peace I give you. Not as the world gives.”

  Lionel gritted his teeth. “He’s ripping off Jesus again.”

  “Would you please quietly make your way from this place, honoring it as the sacred place of the end for four brave employees. I will ask that the loyalty mark application site be appropriately relocated, and thank you for your reverence during this tragedy.”

  Z-Van stepped forward, then was ushered off the stage, along with the regional potentates. Leon Fortunato, now the Most High Reverend Father of Carpathianism, stepped to the mike and spread his hands wide. The folds of his robed arms looked like great wings.

  “He looks like the most high turkey,” Lionel whispered.

  Fortunato tried to speak comfortingly to the audience as Carpathia had done, but his voice didn’t have the same tone. “Beloved,” he said, “while this sadly preempts and concludes today’s activities in Tel Aviv, tomorrow’s agenda shall remain in place. We look forward to your presence in Jerusalem.”

  The crowd scattered, some hurrying to automobiles and others standing by the motorcade to get one more look at Carpathia. Bodyguards and officials flanked the man.

  Judd and Lionel wandered along the beach to the crash site. The heat from the twisted metal was intense. Global Community security forces had already cordoned off the site with yellow tape. A few people passed, shaking their heads. Some took pictures.

  One woman, overcome, laid a bouquet of flowers on the sand. She looked at a friend, wiped away a tear, and said, “They gave their lives in service to the potentate. Those four were heroes.”

  Judd turned to Lionel as the woman walked away.

  “Let’s get back to Z-Van’s plane. I want to call Chang and see if he knows anything about this.”

  Vicki Byrne rubbed her eyes and looked out at the dark sky. It was early morning in Iowa, and several kids were still awake discussing their next move. Mark and the others agreed that Cheryl Tifanne should accompany them to Wisconsin, but Vicki wanted to go immediately. Colin Dial arrived from one of the other safe houses and joined the discussion.

  In the middle of the argument, Mark took a call from Jim Dekker, a believer working inside the Global Community. Mark turned on the speakerphone, and Jim updated them about what had happened since they last talked.

  Jim said he was still at the satellite tracking center, searching for any information he could find about Pete. “I know the GC has impounded the van, but I haven’t heard anything about Pete. I also know this Commander Fulcire of RAP is in Iowa.”

  “RAP?” Shelly said.

  “The Rebel Apprehension Program,” Jim said. “The United North American States have pledged to lead the world in cracking down on anti-Carpathia activity.”

  “Then they’re mostly after believers,” Vicki said.

  Mark looked at Colin. “Won’t they be able to trace your van, the one Pete took?”

  Colin shook his head. “We altered the vehicle identification number and assigned it to the GC fleet. I’ll call Becky and have her be on alert just in case.”

  “What about you?” Vicki said. “Why aren’t you out of there?”

  “I’m not leaving until I know there’s nothing I can do to help Pete,” Jim said. “There are rumors about us being required to take the mark later today. I want to be out before then.”

  Vicki asked if Jim knew anything about Claudia Zander. He didn’t but said he would check. When a new report flashed on GCNN, Jim said he would call back soon and hung up.

  A news reporter, April Wojekowski, stood on a dark road in Iowa, lights of squad cars flashing behind her. “GCNN has learned of a search for anti-Carpathia forces here in Iowa. We were allowed to fly in with Commander Kruno Fulcire, who wouldn’t comment on a possible escape of prisoners at a nearby GC holding facility. But the commander was optimistic that an abandoned van discovered at the side of this road may yield more clues about a possible rebel conspiracy.”

  Natalie Bishop’s picture appeared on the screen and Vicki gasped. Natalie had been accused of helping rebels by using a superior’s computer.

  The scene switched to April’s recorded interview of Commander Fulcire on his plane. “Are there others inside the Global Community who may be helping the rebels?”

  Commander Fulcire frowned. “We hope not. That’s why we’re administering the mark of loyalty as soon as possible to all United North American employees.”

  “What new measures will you take to capture anti-Carpathia forces?”

  Before Fulcire could answer, GCNN switched live to April again, her hair swirling wildly below a hovering helicopter. She screamed into the microphone to be heard. “We have some activity now in the brush, a few yards from where they discovered the van.”

  The camera swung to the right, past the television truck, and focused on about a dozen Global Community officers walking through tall brush by the roadside.

  “What do you think they found?” Shelly said.

  “I just hope it’s not Pete,” Vicki said.

  Judd and Lionel made their way through the lingering crowd in Tel Aviv. Judd had heard there would be as many as 100,000 GC troops brought into Israel, and he did notice more Morale Monitors and Peacekeepers patrolling the streets. Some rode in Jeeps and covered personnel vehicles. Others walked with guns slung over their shoulders. Judd wondered if Carpathia hoped to scare everyone in Israel into following him. If so, Nicolae had greatly misjudged followers of God.

  People along the street spoke sadly about the plane crash. Some called it a shame, while others blamed Tsion Ben-Judah. “Some say the thing exploded before it even hit the ground,” one man said. “I’ll bet the Judah-ites planted a bomb and had it explode over Tel Aviv just to make the potentate look bad.”

  Some young people sat on sidewalks, dressed in shirts and hats that bore images of The Four Horsemen. They were almost as dejected as Z-Van that his appearance had been cancelled.

  Westin Jakes, Z-Van’s pilot, came down the stairs of the airplane when Judd and Lionel finally made it to the airport. Westin had become a believer soon after Nicolae Carpathia’s rise from the dead.

&nb
sp; “I don’t mean to spoil the party,” Westin said, “but I don’t advise you guys riding with us. It’s not a pretty sight back there.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lionel said.

  No sooner had Lionel spoken than a guitar flew out the open door, spinning down the stairs, and smashing onto the tarmac. Z-Van screamed and cursed at someone inside.

  “Who’s he mad at?” Lionel said.

  “Everybody,” Westin said. “Join me in the cockpit.”

  Judd and Lionel quickly ran up the steps and slipped into the cockpit.

  Z-Van screamed from the back of the plane, “We had the potentate right there! We were all ready, and because of this airplane foul-up, we have to reschedule!”

  Someone spoke softly and Z-Van screamed again. “I swear, Lars, if you film any of this I’ll throw the camera twice as far as I threw the guitar.”

  “That film guy still following Z-Van around?” Lionel whispered.

  Westin nodded. “They were set to shoot the songs at the platform, but the plane crash wiped their schedule.”

  Judd fumed. “I can’t believe he’s more concerned about singing his new songs than he is about the people killed in the crash.”

  Westin cocked his head. “That’s my boss.”

  Westin turned on a tiny monitor and tuned in the GCNN station in Tel Aviv. They had been showing the live broadcast of the festivities up to the crash of the plane. Two grim-faced anchors played amateur video that showed the best moments of the fatal flight.

  Westin scowled. “The way that thing came down tells me there was a major problem.”

  “What do you mean?” Judd said.

  “You have all those acrobatic moves, all the fancy flyovers, and then everything goes blank. The pilot doesn’t even try to pull out.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t,” Judd said.