by Tim LaHaye
Rayford filled him in on the latest. “Sad to say, the next time I see you may be because you need to hide out with us.”
“I can’t imagine escaping here, but Mac’s right that it’s good you slipped away. Your days were numbered.”
“I’m shocked Nicolae didn’t do me in months ago.”
“Your son-in-law better lay low, too. His name pops up all the time. They’ve assigned me to locate where his webzine originates. But you know, Rayford, as hard as I work on that and as much time as I put into it, I just can’t seem to break through the scramble and find it.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m doing my best. Honest I am. Boy it’s frustrating when you can’t deliver information to your boss that would cost the life of a brother. Know what I mean?”
“Well, you keep working on it, David, and I’m sure you’ll at least find a misdirection that can waste more of their time.”
“Great idea.”
“Listen, can you walk me through hooking my laptop to a TV so we can see this meeting easier?”
David laughed. “Next you’ll tell me your microdisc player is blinking twelve o’clock all day and night.”
“How’d you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“You know we consider you a member of the Tribulation Force,” Rayford said, “though the others have not met you. You and Mac are our guys inside now, and we know well how dangerous that is.”
David grew serious. “Thanks. I’d love to meet everybody and be with you all, but like you say, when that happens, it’ll be because I’m running . . . and from the most technologically advanced regime in history. I may not see you until heaven. Until then, you need a plane or anything?”
“We’re going to have to talk about that here. If all’s fair in love and war, it might make sense for us to appropriate enemy equipment.”
“You could abscond with millions’ worth and not cripple the GC. You wouldn’t even scratch them.”
“How much longer will you be underground?”
“Not long. The new palace—yeah, it’s a palace this time—is almost done. Spectacular. Wish I were proud to work here. It’d be a pretty good deal.”
After David got him set up, Rayford set the TV where he, Dr. Charles, Ken Ritz, and Hattie would be able to see it. Hattie lay rocking and groaning. She refused food or medication, so Rayford merely covered her. A few minutes before ten, he asked Ken to rouse Floyd, who wanted to watch with them.
The doctor expressed alarm when he saw Hattie. “How long has she been this way?”
“About an hour,” Ken said. “Should we have woken you?”
The doctor shrugged. “I’m shooting in the dark, experimenting with antidotes for a poison that hasn’t been identified. She rallies and I get encouraged, and then she reverts to this.” He medicated her and fed her, and she slept quietly.
Rayford was moved to tears by the broadcast from Israel, but the men laughing at Peter Mathews’s apparel awoke Hattie. She slowly and apparently painfully pushed herself up onto her elbows to watch. “Nicolae hates Mathews with a passion,” she said. “You watch, he’ll have him murdered someday.”
Rayford shot her a double take. She was right, of course, but how did she know? Had it been in the plans as early as when Hattie worked for Carpathia? “You watch,” she repeated.
When Nicolae emerged from the helicopter and joined Fortunato and Mathews onstage, Rayford’s phone rang. “First chance I’ve had to call you, Ray,” Mac said. “First off, nobody knows you’re gone yet. Good job. ’Course, I can play dumb only so long. Now listen, your son-in-law and daughter—is he a good-looking kid, early thirties, and she a cute blonde?”
“That’s them. Where are they? I can see the copter, but I don’t see them.”
“They’re off camera, in the wings.”
“Mac, let me tell you what Hattie told me about—”
“I’ve only got a second here, Ray. Let me call Buck. Will he have his phone on him, the one with the number you gave me?”
“He should, but Mac—”
“I’ll check back with you, Ray.”
As Buck emerged from the stadium, Carpathia’s eloquence reverberated. When Buck reached the van, he saw Jacov facing front, hands on the wheel. He seemed to be peering over the crowd at the monitor while listening to the radio. Buck reached for the door handle, but Jacov had locked himself inside and recoiled at the sound, looking terrified.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, unlocking the door.
“Who were you expecting?” Buck said, climbing in.
“I just didn’t notice you. I apologize.”
“So, what do you make of all this?”
Jacov held his hand out, palm down, to show Buck that he was trembling.
Buck offered Jacov his bottle of water. “What are you afraid of?”
“God,” Jacov said, smiling self-consciously and declining the bottle.
“You don’t need to be. He loves you.”
“Don’t need to be? Rabbi Ben-Judah teaches that all these things we have endured are the judgments of God. It seems I should have feared him long ago. But pardon me, I wish to hear the potentate.”
“You know Dr. Ben-Judah is not a friend of his.”
“That is clear. He has been received most coldly.”
“Appropriately so, Jacov. He is an enemy of God.”
“But I owe it to him to listen.”
Buck was tempted to keep talking anyway, to nullify any deleterious effect Carpathia might have on Jacov. But he didn’t want to be rude, and he wanted to trust God to work in the man’s heart and mind. He fell silent as Carpathia’s liquid tones filled the air.
“And so, my beloved friends, it is not a requirement that your sect align itself with the One World Faith for you to remain citizens of the Global Community. Within reasonable limits, there is room for dissent and alternative approaches. But consider with me for a moment the advantages and privileges and benefits that have resulted from the uniting of every nation into one global village.”
Nicolae recited his litany of achievements. It ranged from the rebuilding of cities and roads and airports to the nearly miraculous reconstruction of New Babylon into the most magnificent city ever built. “It is a masterpiece I hope you will visit as soon as you can.” He mentioned his cellular/solar satellite system (Cell-Sol) that allowed everyone video access to each other by phone and Internet regardless of time or location. Buck shook his head. All this merely ushered in the superstructure necessary for Nicolae to rule the world until the time came to declare himself God.
Buck could see that Nicolae was succeeding in changing Jacov’s mind. “This is hard to argue with,” the driver said. “He has worked wonders.”
“But Jacov,” Buck said, “you have been exposed to the teaching of Dr. Ben-Judah. Surely you must be convinced that the Scriptures are true, that Jesus is the Messiah, that the disappearances were the rapture of Christ’s church.”
Jacov stared ahead, gripping the wheel tightly, his arms shaking. He nodded, but he looked conflicted. Buck no longer cared about rudeness. He would talk over Nicolae; he would not allow the enemy to steal this soul through slick talking.
“What did you think of the teaching tonight?”
“Most impressive,” Jacov admitted. “I cried. I felt myself drawn to him, but mostly drawn to God. I love and respect Dr. Rosenzweig, and he would never understand if I became a believer in Jesus. But if it is true, what else can I do?”
Buck prayed silently, desperately.
“But, Mr. Williams, I had never before heard the verse that Dr. Ben-Judah said was the reason for this meeting. And he was interrupted, was he not? He did not finish the verse.”
“You’re right, he didn’t. It was John 3:16, and it goes, ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only—’”
But Buck got no further than Tsion had when Jacov held up a hand to silence him. “The potentate is finishing,” he said.
Carpathia seemed to be wrapping up his remarks, but something was strange about his voice. Buck had never heard him struggle to speak, but he had grown hoarse. Carpathia turned away from the mike, covered his mouth, and attempted to clear his throat. “Pardon me,” he said, his voice still raspy. “But I wish you and the rabbi here all the best and welcome you, ahem, ahem, once again, excuse me—”
Nicolae turned pleadingly to Tsion, who was still ignoring him. “Would someone have some water?”
Someone passed a fresh bottle to the stage, where Nicolae nodded his thanks. When he opened it, the release of the pressure was magnified over the loudspeaker. But when he drank, he gagged and spit the water out. His lips and chin were covered in blood, and he held the bottle at arm’s length, staring at it in horror. Jacov jumped from the car and moved closer to the monitor. Buck knew why. Even at that distance, it was obvious the bottle contained blood.
Buck followed as they heard Carpathia swearing, cursing Tsion and his “evil gaggle of enemies of the Global Community! You would humiliate me like this for your own gain? I should pull from you my pledge of protection and allow my men to shoot you dead where you stand!”
From the middle of the stunned crowd came the shouted, unison voices of Eli and Moishe. Without need of amplification, everyone within a block of the place could hear them. The crowd fell back from around them, and the two stood in the eerie light of the stadium, shoulder to shoulder, barefoot and in sackcloth.
“Woe unto you who would threaten the chosen vessel of the Most High God!”
Carpathia threw the water bottle onto the floor of the stage, and clear, clean water splashed everywhere. Buck knew the witnesses had turned only Nicolae’s water to blood and that they had likely caused him to need the drink in the first place. Nicolae pointed at Eli and Moishe and screamed, “Your time is nigh! I swear I will kill you or have you killed before—”
But the witnesses were louder, and Carpathia had to fall silent. “Woe!” they said again. “Woe to the impostor who would dare threaten the chosen ones before the due time! Sealed followers of the Messiah, drink deeply and be refreshed!”
The bottle in Buck’s pocket suddenly felt cold. He pulled it out and felt the sting of frigidity in his palm. He twisted off the top and drank deeply. Icy, smooth, rich, thirst-quenching nectar cascaded down his throat. He moaned, not wanting to pull the bottle from his lips but needing to catch his breath. All around he heard the sighs of satisfied believers, sharing cold, refreshing bottles.
“Taste this, Jacov!” Buck said, wiping off the top and handing it to him. “It’s very cold.”
Jacov reached for the water. “It doesn’t feel cold to me,” he said.
“How can you say that? Feel my hand.” Buck put his hand on Jacov’s arm, and Jacov flinched.
“Your hand is freezing,” he said, “but the bottle feels warm to me.” He held it up to the light. “Agh! Blood!” And he dropped it. The bottle bounced at Buck’s feet, and he snatched it up before it emptied. It was again cold in his hands, and he couldn’t resist guzzling from it.
“Don’t!” Jacov said. But as he watched Buck enjoy the clean water, he fell to his hands and knees. “Oh, God, I am no better than Carpathia! I want to be a child of God! I want to be a sealed one!”
Buck squatted next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. “God wants you as part of his family,” he said.
Jacov wept bitterly, then looked up at the whir of chopper blades. He and Buck stared at the TV monitor, where Tsion stood alone again on the stage. His hair and clothes flapped in the wind from the helicopter, and his notes were whipped into a funnel before scattering. Translators leapt onto the stage to retrieve them and set them back on the lectern. Tsion remained motionless, staring, having ignored the entire episode with Nicolae and the two witnesses.
The camera panned to where the witnesses had appeared, but they had left as quickly as they had come. The crowd stood, mouths open, many still drinking and passing around water bottles. When they noticed Tsion back at the lectern, they quieted and sat. As if nothing had happened since he began quoting John 3:16, Tsion continued:
“‘—begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.’”
Jacov, still on his knees, hands on his thighs, seemed glued to the TV image. “What?” he cried out. “What?”
And as if he had heard Jacov, Tsion repeated the verse: “‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.’”
Jacov lowered his face to the pavement, sobbing. “I believe! I believe! God save me! Don’t let me perish! Give me everlasting life!”
“He hears you,” Buck said. “He will not turn away a true seeker.”
But Jacov continued to wail. Others in the crowd had fallen to their knees. Tsion said, “There may be some here, inside or outside, who want to receive Christ. I urge you to pray after me, ‘Dear God, I know I am a sinner. Forgive me and pardon me for waiting so long. I receive your love and salvation and ask you to live your life through me. I accept you as my Savior and resolve to live for you until you come again.’”
Jacov repeated the prayer through tears, then rose to embrace Buck. He squeezed him so tight Buck could hardly breathe. Buck pulled away and thrust the water bottle into Jacov’s hand again.
“Cold!” Jacov exulted.
“Drink!” Buck said.
Jacov held the bottle to the light again, smiling. It was clear. “And it’s full!”
Buck stared. It was! Jacov put it to his lips and tilted his head back so far that he staggered and Buck had to hold him up. He gulped, but not fast enough, and the cool clear water gushed over his face and down his neck. Jacov laughed and cried and shouted, “Praise God! Praise God! Praise God!”
“Let me look at you,” Buck said, laughing.
“Do I look different?”
“You’d better.” He took Jacov’s head in his hands and turned him toward the light. “You have the mark,” he said. “On your forehead.”
Jacov pulled away and ran back toward the van. “I want to see it in the mirror.”
“You won’t,” Buck said, following him. “For some reason we can’t see our own. But you should be able to see mine.”
Jacov turned and stopped Buck, leaning close and squinting. “I do! A cross! And I have one, really?”
“Really.”
“Oh! Praise God!”
They climbed back into the van, and Buck dialed Chloe’s phone. “This had better be you, Buck,” she said.
“It is.”
“I was worried about you.”
“Sorry, but we have a new brother.”
“Jacov?”
“Want to talk to him?”
“Of course. And don’t try to get back in, hon. It’s a madhouse. I’ll get Tsion out as soon as I can.”
Buck handed the phone to Jacov. “Thank you, Mrs. Williams!” he said. “I feel brand new! I am brand new! Hurry and we can see each other’s marks!”
At the safe house it was midafternoon. Rayford sat staring at the screen and shaking his head. “Do you believe this?” he said over and over. “I can’t believe Nicolae lost it like that.”
Ken stood blocking the sun from the window. “I heard all the stories about them two witnesses, but man oh man, they are spooky. I’m glad they’re on our side. They are, aren’t they?”
Dr. Charles laughed. “You know as well as we do that they are, if you’ve been following Tsion as closely on the Net as you say you have.”
“This thing’s going to have the biggest TV audience in history tomorrow,” Rayford said, turning to see what Hattie thought of it. She too stared at the screen, but her face was deathly pale, and she appeared to try to speak. Her mouth was open, her lips quivering. She looked terrified. “You all right, Hattie?” he said.
Floyd turned as Hattie emitted a piercing scream. She flopped onto her back, cradled her abdomen with both hands,
and rolled to her side, gasping and groaning.
Dr. Charles grabbed his stethoscope and asked Rayford and Ken to hold Hattie down. She fought them but seemed to know enough to try to stay quiet so Floyd could listen for the baby’s heartbeat. He looked grave. “What did you feel?” he asked.
“No movement for a long time,” she said, gasping. “Then sharp pain. Did it die? Did I lose my baby?”
“Let me listen again,” he said. Hattie held still. “I can’t tell with just a stethoscope,” he said. “And I don’t have a fetal monitor.”
“You could tell if it was there!” Hattie said.
“But I can’t be sure if I hear nothing.”
“Oh, no! Please, no!”
Floyd shushed her and listened carefully again. He felt all around her abdomen and then lay his ear flat on her belly. He straightened up quickly. “Did you tighten your abdominal muscles on purpose?” She shook her head. “Did you just feel a labor pain?”
“How would I know?”
“Cramping? Tightening?”
She nodded.
“Phone!” Floyd barked, and Ken tossed him his. The doctor dialed quickly. “Jimmy, it’s me. I need a sterile environment and a fetal monitor. . . . Don’t ask! . . . No, I can’t tell you that. Assume I’m within fifty to sixty miles of you. . . . No, I can’t come there.”
“How ’bout Young Memorial in Palatine?” Ken whispered. “There’s a believer there.” Rayford looked up, surprised.
Floyd covered the phone. “How close?”
“Not that far.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. Sorry to bother you. We found a place. I owe you one.”
The doctor began barking orders. “Decide who’s gonna drive, and the other get me two blankets.”
Rayford looked at Ken, who shrugged. “I’m easy,” he said. “I can drive or—”
“Sometime today, gentlemen!”
“You know where it is, you drive,” Rayford said, and he dashed upstairs. When he returned with the blankets, the Rover idled near the door, and Dr. Charles backed out of the house with Hattie in his arms. She squirmed and cried and screamed.
