The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “I am not here to chastise you or to test you to see if what I discern is correct, because in these last days God has poured out his gifts and eliminated the need for patience with us frail humans. In essence, he has forsaken requiring desert experiences for us and simply works through us to do his will.

  “I sense a need to tell you that your deep feelings of having returned to him are accurate. He would have you not wallow in regret but rejoice in his forgiveness. He wants you to know and believe beyond doubt that your sins and iniquities he will remember no more. He has separated you from the guilt of your sins as far as the east is from the west. Go and sin no more. Go and do his bidding in the short season left to you.”

  As if knowing what was coming, Demetrius reached for Rayford’s cup, allowing Rayford to leave the comfort of his chair and kneel on the wood floor. Great sobs burst from him, and he sensed he was in the presence of God, as he had been in the plane when it seemed the Lord had finally gotten his attention. But to add this gift of forgiveness, expressed by a chosen agent, was beyond what Rayford could have dreamed for.

  Fear melted away. Fatigue was put in abeyance. Unrest about the future, about his role, about what to do—all gone. “Thank you, God” was all he could say, and he said it over and over.

  When finally he rose, Rayford turned to embrace a man who an hour before had been a stranger and now seemed a messenger of God. He might never see him again, but he felt a kinship that could only be explained by God.

  Lukas still waited in the tiny kitchen as Rayford spilled to Demetrius the whole story of how his anger had blossomed into a murderous rage that took him to the brink of murder and may have even given him a hand in it.

  Demetrius nodded and seemed to shift and treat Rayford as a colleague rather than a parishioner. “And what is God telling you to do now?”

  “Rest and go,” Rayford said, feeling rightly decisive for the first time in months. For once he didn’t feel the need to talk himself into decisions and then continue to sell himself on them, carefully avoiding seeking God’s will. “I need to sleep until dawn and then get back in the game. As soon as I can get through by phone, I need to be sure Buck and Leah are safe and go get them, if necessary.”

  Laslos joined them and said, “Give me that information. I will stand watch until dawn, and I can try the phones every half hour while you are sleeping.”

  Demetrius interrupted Rayford’s thanks by pointing him to a thick fabric couch and a scratchy blanket. “It is all we have to offer,” he said. “Kick your shoes off and get out of that shirt.”

  When Rayford sat on the couch in only undershirt and trousers, Demetrius motioned that he should lie down. The pastor covered him with the blanket and prayed, “Father, we need a physical miracle. Give this man a double portion of rest for the hours available, and may this meager bed be transformed into a healing agent.”

  Without so much as a pillow, Rayford felt himself drifting from consciousness. He was warm, the couch was soft but supportive, the stiff blanket like a downy comforter. As his breathing became rhythmic and deep, his last conscious thought was different from what it had been for so long. Rather than the dread fear that came with life as an international fugitive, he rested in the knowledge that he was a child of the King, a saved, forgiven, precious, beloved son safe in the hollow of his Father’s hand.

  Buck and Chaim sat in an abandoned, earthquake-ravaged dwelling in the middle of a formerly happening Israeli neighborhood where crowded bars and nightclubs once rocked till dawn. With no power or water or even shelter safe enough for vagrants, the area now hosted only an enterprising journalist and a national hero.

  “Please douse that light, Cameron,” Chaim said.

  “Who will see us?”

  “No one, but it’s irritating. I’ve had a long day.”

  “I imagine you have,” Buck said. “But I want to see this walking, breathing miracle. You look healthier than I’ve ever seen you.”

  They sat on a crumbling concrete wall with remnants of a shattered beam protruding from it. Buck didn’t know how the old man felt, but he himself had to keep moving for a modicum of comfort.

  “I am the healthiest I have been in years,” Chaim exulted, his accent thick as ever. “I have been working out every day.”

  “While your house staff feared you were near death.”

  “If they only knew what I was doing in my workshop before dawn.”

  “I think I know, Chaim.”

  “Thinking and knowing are different things. Had you looked deep into the closet, you would have seen the ancient stationary bicycle and the dumbbells that put me in the fighting trim I am in today. I laboriously moved my chair through the house so they could hear the whine of it if they happened to be up that early. Then I locked myself in there for at least ninety minutes. Jumping jacks and push-ups to warm up, the dumbbells for toning, the bike for a hard workout. Then it was back inside the blanket, into the chair, and back to my quarters for a shower. They thought I was remarkably self-reliant for an old man suffering from a debilitating stroke.”

  Buck was not amused when Chaim stiffened his arm, turned one side of his mouth down, and faked impaired speech with guttural rasping.

  “I fooled even you, did I not?”

  “Even me,” Buck said, looking away.

  “Are you offended?”

  “Of course I am. Why would you feel the need to do that to your staff and to me?”

  “Oh, Cameron, I could not involve you in my scheme.”

  “I’m involved, Chaim. I saw what killed Carpathia.”

  “Oh, you did, did you? Well, I didn’t. All that commotion, that trauma. I couldn’t move. I heard the gunshot, saw the man fall, the lectern shatter, the backdrop sail away. I froze with fear, unable to propel my chair. My back was to the disturbance, and no one was coming to my aid. I shall have to chastise Jacov for his failure to do his duty. I was counting on him to come to me. My other clothes were in the back of the van, and I had a reservation at a small inn under an alias. We can still use it if you can get me there.”

  “In your pajamas?”

  “I have a blanket in the tree. I wrapped it around myself, even my head, as I ran to the taxis. I had not expected to have to do that, Cameron, but I was prepared for all exigencies.”

  “Not all.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ll try to get you to your hotel, Chaim, and I may even have to hide out there with you myself for a while. But I have bad news that I will tell you only when we are there. And only after you tell me everything about what happened on the platform.”

  Chaim stood and reached for the flashlight, using it to find his way to a man-size hole in the wall. He leaned against the opening and switched off the light.

  “I will never tell anyone what happened,” he said. “I am in this alone.”

  “I didn’t see it happen, Chaim, but I saw the wound and what caused it. You know I couldn’t have been the only one.”

  Chaim sighed wearily. “The eye is not trustworthy, my young friend. You don’t know what you saw. You can’t tell me how far away you were or how what you saw fits into the whole picture. The gunshot was a surprise to me. That your comrade was even there was also a shock, and him as a suspect now!”

  “I find none of this amusing, Chaim, and soon enough you won’t either.”

  Buck heard the old man settle to the ground. “I did not expect that much chaos. I hoped, of course. That was my only chance of getting away from there with everyone else. When Jacov did not arrive—because of the panic caused by the gunshot, I assume—I leaned on that control stick and headed for the back of the platform, clutching my blanket like a cape. I rolled out of the chair at the last instant, and it went flying. I wish it had landed on one of the regional potentates, who were by then limping away. I tossed my blanket over the side, then rolled onto my belly and threw my feet over, locking them around the support beam. I shinnied down that structure like a youngster, Cameron, an
d I won’t even try to hide my pride. I have scrapes on my inner thighs that may take some time to heal, but it was worth it.”

  “Was it?”

  “It was, Cameron. It was. Fooling so many, including my own staff. Doctors, nurses, aides. Well, actually, I didn’t fool every aide. As Jacov and a young nurse’s aide were lifting me into the van after my last visit to the hospital, she stalled, locking my wheels and straightening my blanket while Jacov went to get behind the wheel. Just before she closed the door, she leaned close and whispered, ‘I don’t know who you are or what your game is, old man. But you might want to remember which side was affected when you came in here.’”

  Chaim chuckled, which Buck found astounding under the circumstances. “I just hope she was telling the truth, Cameron, that she didn’t know who I was. Celebrity is my curse, but some of the younger ones, they don’t pay so much attention. I looked desperately at her as she shut the door, hoping she would wonder if it were she who had forgotten. I stayed in character, but if my face flushed it was from embarrassment and not frustration over my lack of ability to speak or walk. She was right! I had stiffened my right arm and curled my right hand under! What an old fool!”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth, Chaim. Get your blanket, and let’s find a cab.”

  Without a word, Chaim switched on the flashlight, hurried to the tree, tossed the light back to Buck, and leaped, grabbing the low branch and pulling himself up far enough to grab the blanket. He wrapped it around his head and over his shoulder, then affected a limp and leaned on Buck, chuckling again.

  Buck moved away from him. “Don’t start that until you need to,” Buck said.

  Leah Rose awoke with a start and looked out the window. Cities were rarely illuminated in the night anymore, so she had no idea where she was. She tried looking at her watch, but couldn’t focus. Something had awakened her, and suddenly she heard it again. Her phone. Could it be?

  The one lone flight attendant and the rest of the dozen or so passengers seemed asleep. Leah dug in her bag for the phone and checked the readout. She didn’t recognize the number, but her comrades had assured her the phone was secure. She would not jeopardize them if she answered, even if her number had fallen into the wrong hands.

  Leah opened the phone and tucked her head behind the back of the seat in front of her. She spoke softly but directly. “This is Donna Clendenon.”

  A brief silence alarmed her. She heard a male inhale. “I’m sorry,” he began with a Greek accent. “I am calling on behalf of, ah, Mr. Marvin Berry?”

  “Yes! Is this Mr. Miklos?”

  “Yes!”

  “And are you calling from Greece?”

  “I am. And Mr. Steele is here. And what is it that those filled with demons cannot say?”

  Leah smiled in spite of herself. “Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, and he will return in the flesh.”

  “Amen! Rayford is sleeping but needs to know you are safe and how to find y—”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Miklos, but if the phones are working, I have an emergency call to make. Just tell Rayford that I am nearly home so not to worry about me, but that he needs to locate Buck.”

  Tsion experimented with five-minute catnaps every few minutes, fearing he would otherwise sleep through the resurrection of the Antichrist. With Chloe and the baby asleep elsewhere in the safe house, the experiment was not working well. He found himself popping awake every fifteen or twenty minutes, desperate to be sure he had missed nothing. There had been no repeat of his dreamlike state while praying for Rayford, and he began to wonder if it had been more related to praying than sleeping. He also began to wonder how long Carpathia was supposed to remain dead. Was it possible he had been wrong all along? Was someone else the Antichrist, yet to be murdered and resurrected?

  Tsion couldn’t imagine it. Many sincere believers had questioned his teaching that Antichrist would actually die from a wound to the head. Some said the Scriptures indicated that it would be merely a wound that made him appear dead. He tried to assure them that his best interpretation of the original Greek led him to believe that the man would actually die and then be indwelt by Satan himself upon coming back to life.

  Given that, he hoped he had been right about Carpathia. There would be no doubt of the death and resurrection if the body had begun to decay, was autopsied, embalmed, and prepared to lie in state. If Carpathia were dead even close to twenty-four hours, few could charge him with faking his demise. Too many eyewitnesses had seen the man expire, and though the cause of death had not yet been announced, that was forthcoming. The world, including Tsion, had to believe the gunshot provided the kill.

  The TV carried yet another airing of an earlier pronouncement of grief and promised vengeance from Leon Fortunato. Tsion found himself nodding and dozing until the phone woke him.

  “Leah! It’s so good to hear your voice. We have been unable to reach—”

  She interrupted and filled him in on Hattie and the danger posed to the safe house. Tsion stood and began pacing as he listened. “We have nowhere else to go, Leah,” he said. “But at the very least we had better get underground.”

  They agreed that she would call if she got near the safe house and was sure no one was casing the place. Otherwise, Leah would keep her distance and try to find Hattie. How, she said, she had no idea.

  Despite his weariness, Tsion was suddenly energized. He was responsible for Chloe and Kenny, and though the macho stuff was usually left to Rayford or Buck, he had to act. He trotted up the stairs and grabbed a few clothes from his closet and a stack of books. He returned to the first floor and piled these near the old chest freezer that stood next to the refrigerator.

  Tsion added his laptop and the TV to the pile, then outed every light in the place except the single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the hall bath. He carefully pushed open the door to Buck and Chloe’s bedroom, knocking softly. He did not hear Chloe stir, and he could not see her in the darkness. He knocked again and whispered her name.

  When he heard a quick motion from the crib on the far wall, Tsion fell silent, holding his breath. He had hoped not to wake the baby. Clearly, Kenny was pulling himself up to stand. The crib rocked, and Tsion imagined the little guy with his hands on the railing, rocking, making the crib squeak. “Mowning! Ga’mowning, Mama!”

  “It’s not morning, Kenny,” he whispered.

  “Unca Zone!” Kenny squealed, rocking vigorously.

  And with that, Chloe awoke with a start.

  “It’s just me, dear,” Tsion said quickly.

  Twenty minutes later the three of them were relocated underground, having lifted aside the rack of smelly, spoiled food in the freezer that led to the stairs. Kenny, beaming from his playpen, had loved seeing his mother and Tsion reappear downstairs every few minutes with more stuff. He was not so happy when they muscled his crib down there and he had to make the switch.

  Fortunately the underground was large enough that Tsion could set up the TV in a spot where the light and sound did not reach Chloe and Kenny’s sleeping quarters. He monitored the doings from New Babylon, but every time he had need to venture into the other part of the shelter, he heard Chloe groggily trying to talk Kenny into going back to sleep.

  He poked his head through the curtain. “How about he watches TV with me until he falls asleep again, hmm?”

  “Oh, Tsion, that would be wonderful.”

  “Unca Zone!”

  “TV?” Tsion said as he lifted the boy from the crib.

  Kenny kicked and laughed. “TV, Unca Zone! DVD!”

  “We’ll watch my show,” Tsion whispered as he carried him to his chair.

  “You show!” Kenny said, holding Tsion’s face in his hands. Tsion was transported to when his relatives had been toddlers and sat in his lap as he read or watched television. Kenny was quickly bored with the repetitious news, but he quit asking for a DVD and concentrated on tracing the contours of Tsion’s ears, squeezing his nose, and rubbing his palm back and forth
on Tsion’s stubble. Eventually he began to blink slowly, tucked a thumb in his mouth, and turned to settle into the crook of Tsion’s elbow. When his head lolled over, Tsion gently carried him back to bed.

  As he tucked a blanket around Kenny he heard Chloe turn and whisper, “Thank you, Unca Zone.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you just go straight to the hotel?” Buck asked Chaim as he tried to flag down a cab.

  “I was lucky enough the cabbie didn’t recognize me. How was I going to fool a desk clerk? I was counting on Jacov to get me in. Now I’m counting on you. Anyway, how would we have found each other?”

  “How did we find each other?” Buck said.

  “I couldn’t think of any other place you might look, except at my home, and I didn’t expect you to risk that. I don’t think anybody is there anyway. I haven’t been able to raise anybody.”

  Buck was struck by that unfortunate choice of words.

  “They’re there, Chaim.”

  “You did go there? Why don’t they answer? Did Jacov make it back? I expected he would call me.”

  Buck spotted a cab sitting a couple of blocks off a busy thoroughfare. Grateful he didn’t have to answer Chaim directly yet, he said, “Wait here, and keep that blanket over your face.”

  “You workin’?” he asked the cabbie.

  “Hundred and fifty Nicks, only in the city.”

  “A hundred, and my father is contagious.”

  “No contagious.”

  “OK, a hundred and fifty. We’re only going to the Night Visitors. You know it?”

  “I know. You keep old man in back, and don’t breathe on me.”

  Buck signaled to Chaim, who shuffled over, hidden in the blanket. “Don’t try to talk, Father,” he said, helping him into the backseat. “And don’t cough on this nice young man.”

  As if on cue, Chaim covered his mouth with the blanket and both hands and produced a juicy, wheezing cough that made the driver look quickly into the rearview mirror.

  The Night Visitors was dark, not even an outside light on. “Are they closed?” Buck said.