by Tim LaHaye
“A lot better, now that we’re over American airspace. I had no idea what you guys got yourselves into, and who knew what kind of fighter pilots might have been on my tail.”
“I don’t think we were worth all that, with World War III going on,” Buck said.
“Where’d you leave all your stuff?”
Buck whirled around. What was he looking for? He had brought nothing with him. Everything he brought had been in that leather bag, which by now was charred and melted. “I promised to call my wife back, too!” he said.
“You’ll be happy to know I already talked to your people,” Ritz said. “They were mighty relieved to hear you were on your way home.”
“You didn’t say anything about my wound or about my passenger, did you?”
“Give me some credit, Williams. You and I both know your wound isn’t worth worrying about, so no wife needs to hear about that until she sees it. And as for your passenger, I have no idea who he is or whether your people knew you were bringing him home for dinner, so, no, I didn’t say a word about him either.”
“You’re a good man, Ritz,” Buck said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“I like a compliment as much as the next guy, but I hope you know you owe me battle pay on top of everything else.”
“That can be arranged.”
Because Ritz had carefully documented his plane and passenger on the way out of the country a few days before, he was on record and easily made it back through the North American radar net. He did not announce his extra passenger, and because personnel at Palwaukee Airport were not in the habit of processing international travelers, no one there paid any attention when an American pilot in his fifties, an Israeli rabbi in his forties, and an American writer in his thirties disembarked. Ritz was the only one not limping.
Buck had finally reached Chloe from the plane. It sounded to him as if she might have bitten his head off for keeping her up all night worrying and praying, had she not been so relieved to hear his voice. “Believe me, babe,” he said, “when you hear the whole story, you’ll understand.”
Buck had convinced her that only the Tribulation Force and Loretta could know about Tsion. “Don’t tell Verna. Can you come alone to Palwaukee?”
“I’m not up to driving yet, Buck,” she said. “Amanda can drive me out there. Verna isn’t even staying with us anymore. She has moved in with friends.”
“That could be a problem,” Buck said. “I may have made myself vulnerable to the worst possible person in my profession.”
“We’ll have to talk about that, Buck.”
It was as if Tsion Ben-Judah was in some international witness protection program. He was smuggled into Loretta’s home under the cover of night. Amanda and Chloe, who had heard from Rayford the news about Tsion’s family, greeted him warmly and compassionately but seemed not to know how much to say. Loretta had a light snack waiting for all of them. “I’m old and not too up on things,” she said, “but I’m quickly getting the picture here. The less I know about your friend, the better, am I right?”
Tsion answered her circumspectly. “I am deeply grateful for your hospitality.”
Loretta soon trundled off to bed, expressing her delight in offering hospitality as her service to the Lord.
Buck, Chloe, and Tsion limped into the living room, followed by a chuckling Amanda. “I wish Rayford were here,” she said. “I feel like the only teetotaler in a car full of drunks. Every chore that requires two feet is going to fall to me.”
Chloe, characteristically direct, leaned forward and reached for Tsion’s hand with both of hers. “Dr. Ben-Judah, we have heard so much about you. We feel blessed of God to have you with us. We can’t imagine your pain.”
The rabbi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his lips quivering. “I cannot tell you how deeply grateful I am to God that he has brought me here, and to you who have welcomed me. I confess my heart is broken. The Lord has shown me his hand so clearly since the death of my family that I cannot deny his presence. Yet there are times I wonder how I will go on. I do not want to dwell on how my loved ones lost their lives. I must not think about who did this and how it was accomplished. I know my wife and children are safe and happy now, but it is very difficult for me to imagine their horror and pain before God received them. I must pray for relief from bitterness and hatred. Most of all, I feel terrible guilt that I brought this upon them. I do not know what else I could have done, short of trying to make them more secure. I could not have avoided serving God in the way he has called me.”
Amanda and Buck each moved to put a hand on Tsion’s shoulders, and with the three of them touching him, they all prayed as he wept.
They talked well into the night, Buck explaining that Tsion would be the object of an international manhunt, which would likely have even Carpathia’s approval. “How many people know about the underground shelter at the church?”
“Believe it or not,” Chloe said, “unless Loretta has read the printouts from Bruce’s computer, even she thinks it was just some new utility installation.”
“How was he able to keep that from her? She was at the church every day while it was being excavated.”
“You’ll have to read Bruce’s stuff, Buck. In short, she was under the impression that all that work was for the new water tank and parking lot improvements. Just like everyone else in the church thought.”
Two hours later, Buck and Chloe lay in bed, unable to sleep. “I knew this was going to be difficult,” she said. “I guess I just didn’t know how much.”
“Do you wish you’d never gotten involved with somebody like me?”
“Let’s just say it hasn’t been boring.”
Chloe then told him about Verna Zee. “She thought we were all wacky.”
“Aren’t we? The question is, how much damage can she do to me? She knows completely where I stand now, and if that gets back to people at the Weekly, it’ll shoot up the line to Carpathia like lightning. Then what?”
Chloe told Buck that she and Amanda and Loretta had at least persuaded Verna to keep Buck’s secret for now.
“But why would she do that?” Buck said. “We’ve never liked each other. We’ve been at each other’s throats. The only reason we traded favors the other night was that World War III made our skirmishes look petty.”
“Your skirmishes were petty,” Chloe said. “She admitted she was intimidated by you and jealous of you. You were what she had always hoped to be, and she even confessed that she knew she was no journalist compared to you.”
“That doesn’t give me confidence about her ability to keep my secret.”
“You would have been proud of us, Buck. Loretta had already told Verna her entire story, how she was the only person in her extended family not taken in the Rapture. Then I got my licks in, telling her all about how you and I met, where you were when the Rapture happened, and how you and I and Daddy became believers.”
“Verna must have thought we were all from another planet,” Buck said. “Is that why she moved out?”
“No. I think she felt in the way.”
“Was she sympathetic at all?”
“She actually was. I took her aside once and told her that the most important thing was what she decided to do about Christ. But I also told her that our very lives depended upon her protecting the news of your loyalties from your colleagues and superiors. She said, ‘His superiors? Cameron’s only superior is Carpathia.’ But she also said something else very interesting, Buck. She said that as much as she admires Carpathia and what he has done for America and the world—gag—she hates the way he controls and manipulates the news.”
“The question, Chloe, is whether you extracted from her any promises of my protection.”
“She wanted to trade favors. Probably wanted some sort of a promotion or raise. I told her you would never work that way, and she said she figured that. I asked if she would promise me that she would at least not say anything to anyone until after she had talked to you. An
d then, are you ready for this? I made her promise to come to Bruce’s memorial service Sunday.”
“And she’s coming?”
“She said she would. I told her she’d better be there early. It’ll be packed.”
“It sure will. How foreign is all this going to be to her?”
“She claims she’s been in church only about a dozen times in her life, for weddings and funerals and such. Her father was a self-styled atheist, and her mother apparently had been raised in some sort of a strict denomination that she turned her back on as an adult. Verna says the idea of attending church was never discussed in her home.”
“And she was never curious? Never searched for any deeper meaning in life?”
“No. In fact, she admitted she’s been a pretty cynical and miserable person for years. She thought it made her the perfect journalist.”
“She always gave me the willies,” Buck said. “I was as cynical and negative as any, but hopefully there was a balance of humor and personability there.”
“Oh yeah, that’s you all right,” Chloe teased. “That’s why I’m still tempted to have a child with you, even now.”
Buck didn’t know what to say or think. They had had this discussion before. The idea of bringing a child into the Tribulation was, on the surface, unconscionable, and yet they had both agreed to think about it, pray about it, and see what Scripture said about it. “You want to talk about this now?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m tired. But let’s not shut the door on it.”
“You know I won’t, Chlo’,” he said. “I also need to tell you I’m on a different time zone. I slept all the way back.”
“Oh, Buck! I’ve missed you. Can’t you at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Sure. Then I’m going to sneak over to the church and see how Bruce’s shelter turned out.”
“I’ll tell you what you ought to do,” Chloe said, “is finish reading Bruce’s stuff. We’ve been marking passages we want Daddy to read at the memorial service. I don’t know how he’ll get through all of it without taking the whole day, but it’s astounding stuff. Wait till you see it.”
“I can’t wait.”
Rayford Steele was having a crisis of conscience. Packed and ready to go, he sat reading the Global Community International Daily while awaiting word from Hattie Durham’s driver that he was in front of the building.
Rayford missed Amanda. In many ways, they still seemed strangers, and he knew that in the little more than five years before the Glorious Appearing, they would never have the time to get to know each other and develop the lifelong relationship and bond he had shared with Irene. For that matter, he still missed Irene. On the other hand, Rayford felt guilty that in many ways he was closer to Amanda already than he had ever been to Irene.
That was his own fault, he knew. He had not known nor shared Irene’s faith until it was too late. She had been so sweet, so giving. While he knew of worse marriages and less loyal husbands, he often regretted that he was never the husband to her that he could have been. She had deserved better.
To Rayford, Amanda was a gift from God. He recalled not even having liked her at first. A handsome, wealthy woman slightly older than he, she was so nervous upon first meeting him that she gave the impression of being a jabberer. She didn’t let him or Chloe get a word in, but kept correcting herself, answering her own questions, and rambling.
Rayford and Chloe were bemused by her, but seeing her as a future love interest never crossed his mind. They were impressed with how taken Amanda had been with Irene from her brief encounter. Amanda had seemed to catch the essence of Irene’s heart and soul. The way she described her, Rayford and Chloe might have thought she had known her for years.
Chloe had initially suspected Amanda of having designs on Rayford. Having lost her family in the Rapture, she was suddenly a lonely, needy woman. Rayford had not sensed anything but a genuine desire to let him know what his former wife had meant to her. But Chloe’s suspicion had put him on guard. He made no attempt to pursue Amanda and was careful to watch for any signs coming the other way. There were none.
That made Rayford curious. He watched how she assimilated herself into New Hope Village Church. She was cordial to him, but never inappropriate, and never—in his mind—forward. Even Chloe eventually had to admit that Amanda did not come off as a flirt to anyone. She quickly became known around New Hope as a servant. That was her spiritual gift. She busied herself about the work of the church. She would cook, clean, drive, teach, greet, serve on boards and committees, whatever was necessary. A full-time professional woman, her spare time was spent in church life. “It’s always been all or nothing with me,” she said. “When I became a believer, it was lock, stock, and barrel.”
From a distance, having hardly socialized with her after that first encounter when she merely wanted to talk to him and Chloe about Irene, Rayford became an admirer. He found her quiet, gentle, giving spirit most attractive. When he first found himself wanting to spend time with her, he still wasn’t thinking of her romantically. He just liked her. Liked her smile. Liked her look. Liked her attitude. He had sat in on one of her Sunday school classes. She was a most engaging teacher and a quick study. The next week, he found her sitting in his class. She was complimentary. They joked about someday team-teaching. But that day didn’t come until after they had double-dated with Buck and Chloe. It wasn’t long before they were desperately in love. Having been married just a few months before in a double ceremony with Buck and Chloe had been one of the small islands of happiness in Rayford’s life during the worst period of human history.
Rayford was eager to get back to the States to see Amanda. He also looked forward to some time with Hattie on the plane. He knew the work of drawing her to Christ was that of the Spirit and not his responsibility, but still he felt he should maximize every legitimate opportunity to persuade her. His problem that Saturday morning was that every fiber of his being fought against his role as pilot for Nicolae Carpathia. Everything he had read, studied, and learned under Bruce Barnes’s tutelage had convinced him and the other members of the Tribulation Force, as well as the congregation at New Hope, that Carpathia himself was the Antichrist. There were advantages to believers to have Rayford in the position he found himself, and Carpathia knew well where Rayford stood. What Nicolae did not know, of course, was that one of his other trusted employees, Cameron Williams, was now Rayford’s son-in-law and had been a believer nearly as long as Rayford.
How long could it last? Rayford wondered. Was he endangering Buck’s and Chloe’s lives? Amanda’s? His own? He knew the day would come when what Bruce referred to as “tribulation saints” would become the mortal enemies of the Antichrist. Rayford would have to choose his timing carefully. Someday, according to Bruce’s teaching, to merely have the right to buy and sell, citizens of the Global Community would have to take the “mark of the beast.” No one knew yet exactly what form this would take, but the Bible indicated it would be a mark on the forehead or on the hand. There would be no faking. The mark would somehow be specifically detectable. Those who took the mark could never repent of it. They would be lost forever. Those who did not take the mark would have to live in hiding, their lives worth nothing to the Global Community.
For now, Carpathia seemed merely amused by and impressed with Rayford. Perhaps he thought he had some connection, some insight to the opposition by keeping Rayford around. But what would happen when Carpathia discovered that Buck was not loyal and that Rayford had known all along? Worse, how long could Rayford justify in his own mind that the benefits of being able to eavesdrop and spy on Carpathia outweighed his own culpability in abetting the work of the evil one?
Rayford glanced at his watch and speed-read the rest of the paper. Hattie and her driver would be there in a few moments. Rayford felt as if he had undergone sensory overload. Any one of the traumas he had witnessed since the day the war broke out might have institutionalized a normal man during normal times. Now,
it seemed, Rayford had to take everything in stride. The most heinous, horrible atrocities were part of daily life. World War III had erupted, Rayford had discovered one of his dearest friends dead, and he had heard Nicolae Carpathia give the word to destroy major cities and then announce his grief and disappointment on international television.
Rayford shook his head. He had done his job, flown his new plane, landed it thrice with Carpathia aboard, had gone to dinner with an old friend, gone to bed, had several phone conversations, rose, read his paper, and was now ready to blithely fly home to his family. What kind of a crazy world had this become? How could vestiges of normality remain in a world going to hell?
The newspaper carried the stories out of Israel, how the rabbi who had so shocked his own nation and culture and religion and people—not to mention the rest of the world—with his conclusions about the messiahship of Jesus, had suddenly gone mad. Rayford knew the truth, of course, and looked forward with great anticipation to meeting this brave saint.
Rayford knew Buck had somehow spirited him out of the country, but he didn’t know how. He would be eager to get the details. Was this what they all had to look forward to? The martyrdom of their families? Their own deaths? He knew it was. He tried to push it from his mind. The juxtaposition between the easy, daily, routine life of a jumbo-jet pilot—the Rayford Steele he was a scant two years ago—and the international political pinball he felt like today was almost more than his mind could assimilate.
The phone rang. His ride was here.
Buck was astonished at what he found at the church. Bruce had done such a good job camouflaging the shelter that Buck had almost not been able to find it again.
Alone in the cavernous place, Buck headed downstairs. He walked through the fellowship hall, down a narrow corridor, past the washrooms, and past the furnace room. He was now at the end of a hallway with no light—it would have been dark there at noon. Where was that entrance? He felt around the wall. Nothing. He moved back into the furnace room and flipped on the switch. A flashlight rested atop the furnace. He used it to find the hand-sized indentation in one of the concrete blocks on the wall. Setting himself and feeling the nagging sting in his right heel from his recent wound, he pushed with all his might, and a section of block wall slid open slightly. He stepped in and pulled it closed behind him. The flashlight illuminated a sign directly in front of him and six stair steps down: “Danger! High Voltage. Authorized Personnel Only.”
