Hunted

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “I don’t like watching this,” Charlie said, backing away from the monitor.

  Mark pulled up a spreadsheet of information he had documented since the rise of the miracle workers. “The number on the left is how many miracles have been performed. As you go across, you see what types of things they’re doing.”

  “Those are all the same things Jesus did while he was on earth,” Darrion said.

  “Exactly,” Mark said. “They’re counterfeiting Christ’s miracles just like they have to fake everything else, like the mark on the forehead.”

  The blood-to-water miracles seemed most popular. One woman had changed water to blood, then changed it to wine. There had been reattached limbs, healing of skin diseases, three blind people given back their sight, and twenty-three lame people made to walk.

  The GCNN anchor announced that viewers were in for a treat today because a man in England had asked a miracle worker to heal his sick daughter who lived in Australia. The miracle worker had asked GCNN to set up a live video feed from the man’s home, and the network had agreed.

  The miracle worker was dressed all in black and stood before a massive image of Nicolae. Five thousand people crammed into the large amphitheater, and crowds spilled out of the venue into the street. Everyone applauded as the miracle worker appeared onstage, accompanied by the father of the sick daughter.

  “We are here not to present a sideshow or even entertain you. We have gathered to celebrate the life-giving power of our lord and king.” The man knelt before Nicolae’s statue. When he stood, he motioned to someone backstage, and workers wheeled a massive monitor into view. The picture rolled and the audio crackled and buzzed.

  Conrad shook his head. “If he can heal all those people, you’d think they’d be able to fix the satellite feed.”

  The miracle worker stared at the monitor, his jaw set, then turned to the crowd. “What you are about to witness has never been attempted before, and it will prove that Nicolae is god and should be worshiped.”

  “What’s he going to do?” Janie said.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not going to glorify God,” Vicki said.

  The picture from the satellite feed stopped rolling, and a reporter on the scene in Australia came into view. The woman’s face was tight and her eyes red. She stood in front of a simple, ranch-style house with several vehicles parked in the driveway.

  “What is the matter, my friend?” the miracle worker said.

  The reporter waited through the time delay and said, “Sir, our crew arrived here only a few minutes ago. I went inside to explain what was happening and found those inside watching our coverage.”

  “So it appears we are a hit with audiences around the world!” The crowd laughed, and the miracle man held up a hand. “Is the young lady still in the house?”

  “Yes, but …”

  The miracle worker raised his lips in a smile. “Go ahead, tell me.”

  “She is only about sixteen years old. When we got here, a local doctor was with her. Something must have gone wrong …” The reporter’s chin quivered. She looked at the ground and pulled the microphone away.

  “What’s happened to my daughter?” the father shouted. “Have they taken her away?”

  “Tell him,” the miracle worker said, speaking as if he already knew what had happened.

  “She is dead. The doctor came out just before we went on with you and told us. It happened a little while ago.”

  The crowd gasped and the father fell to his knees. He was in such grief that he could only whimper and moan. Finally, he looked up at the miracle worker. “I know you are sent from god, and whatever you ask lord Carpathia, he can do. Please, help my little girl.”

  The miracle worker closed his eyes and seemed to drink in the man’s words. He looked at the audience and shouted, “I tell you the truth. I have not found anyone in the whole of the Global Community with such great faith. In the midst of such distressing news, he looks to the only one who can help.”

  The miracle man looked at the monitor and told the crew in Australia to pick up their camera and take it inside. When they hesitated, he shouted at them, and the picture wobbled as they hauled the equipment inside.

  The living room was filled with people crying and grieving the girl’s death. A man with a black satchel and a stethoscope around his neck talked with the woman.

  “That is my wife,” the father said.

  The woman shook a white handkerchief at the camera and moved back. The doctor put out a hand to stop the camera and the reporter, but the miracle man spoke in soothing tones. “Doctor, tell us about the girl’s condition.”

  “This is highly irregular,” the doctor said, “I must ask you to leave at once. This family is in the midst of a terrible loss—”

  “I know of their loss, and I am here to tell you that you will see victory instead of defeat. Doctor, are you sure the girl no longer lives?”

  The doctor suddenly saw himself on television and looked startled. “Yes, of course I am sure. She has no pulse, and she is not breathing. She went into cardiac arrest and died twenty minutes ago.”

  “What would you say if I could tell you that the mother and father will see this girl alive again?”

  “Impossible,” the doctor said. “Even if her heart and lungs could begin again, there has been so much damage to the brain that she could no longer—”

  “That is enough,” the miracle man said. “Take the camera into the girl’s room.”

  “But as I said—”

  “Now!” the miracle man shouted.

  The camera moved rapidly, family pictures flashing by as the camera raced to the end of a darkened hallway. A door opened and the operator adjusted for the low light.

  “Remove the covering,” the miracle man said.

  The reporter put down her microphone and gently peeled back the white sheet over the body. A thin, dark-haired girl lay on the bed, her face pale and peaceful. The father wept loudly onstage, and the miracle man did nothing to stop him. Suddenly the mother ran into the room, screaming and yelling for everyone to get out.

  “Silence!” the miracle man said.

  The woman fell back against the bedroom wall. The camera zoomed in on the girl’s face. Vicki watched as the miracle man turned and asked the father the girl’s name.

  “Talitha,” the father said.

  The miracle man held up both hands and the crowd grew quiet. Kneeling in prayer, the father tried to control his weeping but couldn’t. Muffled sobs came from the mother.

  Vicki shuddered, guessing what would happen next. The old liar, the one God said from the beginning was a murderer and a thief, had enlisted this new breed of false prophets, Nicolae’s messiahs.

  The miracle man leaned close to his microphone and whispered, “Talitha, wake up.”

  The words sent a chill down Vicki’s spine. He said it again, this time louder, as if the corpse couldn’t hear.

  “Talitha, wake up!”

  The screen swayed as the cameraman took a step closer. The girl’s eyes fluttered once, then again. A shriek came from the other side of the bedroom. The white sheet covering the girl’s body rose slowly as she took a breath.

  Thousands gasped in the massive crowd. The father tried to stand but fell forward toward the monitor, crying tears of joy. Vicki and the others in the cabin groaned.

  “Talitha, arise!” the miracle man ordered.

  The girl’s eyes opened fully and she sat up. In the amphitheater, the crowd went wild—some screaming, others yelling shouts of praise to Nicolae. The image of Nicolae began quaking at the noise and belched fire and smoke from its mouth. At the home in Australia, the young girl stood and her mother embraced her.

  The reporter’s microphone shook as she stepped in front of the camera. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’m not sure I would have believed it. This girl, who had no pulse, no signs of life for nearly half an hour, is now walking toward her family. She is alive!”

  At this, th
e crowd raised such a shout that Mark muted the computer speakers. People ran toward the stage, struggling to reach out and touch the miracle man. Cameras switched from the frenzied faces in the crowd, to the weeping father, to the belching image of Nicolae red with fire, to the scene of family members mobbing the young girl in Australia, to the miracle man, smiling, lifting his hands toward the statue, and mouthing the words to “Hail Carpathia.”

  Vicki and the group sat, stunned at the evil they had witnessed.

  Janie broke the silence. “I don’t understand. I thought only God could raise the dead.”

  “The power of evil is real now more than ever,” Marshall said. “Tsion has talked about this many times. Satan is being allowed to deceive, kill, and destroy like never before. I don’t understand it either, except to say that Satan can only do the things God allows.”

  Vicki watched the video feed a little longer, then headed back to her cabin with a heavy heart. The last thing she saw was the girl who had been dead kneeling before a statue of Nicolae.

  10

  JUDD helped the others put together what Luke called Bounty Hunter Defense kits or BHDs. He noticed some sour looks from the group, and Judd commented later to Lionel about the lack of organization in the South Carolina hideout. At their next meeting, Judd brought up his observations, and the others stiffened.

  “Everybody follows Luke and Tom,” Judd said. “There’s no give-and-take.”

  “Somebody has to be in charge,” Carl Meninger said. “If we voted on everything, we’d never have tried to help you.”

  Judd nodded. “I think there have to be leaders, no question. But if others just follow, they start feeling left out.”

  A teenage girl named Shawnda raised a hand. “We came up with our own ideas at the last hideout, and that’s when we let somebody in who ratted us out to the GC.”

  “I can understand being cautious,” Judd said. “The goal isn’t to make sure everybody has a vote so we rule by majority, but you might be missing out on gifts people have by not including them.”

  Lionel lifted a hand. “One of the advantages to having this many believers together is the wisdom of numbers. Proverbs says, ‘So don’t go to war without wise guidance; victory depends on having many counselors.’ If we’re not working together, we’re going to pull apart.”

  “I wish Tom were here,” Luke said, “but he’s on watch right now. Let’s hear what everybody has to say.”

  People looked at each other nervously. Finally, Shawnda cleared her throat to speak but was interrupted by two short beeps from the intercom. “We’ve got movement in the marsh,” Tom said. “Somebody’s headed this way.”

  Luke looked at Judd. “Want to take a vote on what we should do?”

  Chang Wong tried to keep his mind on the tasks at hand but found it difficult. His father was dead, and Chang couldn’t shake the thought of the guillotine plunging onto his father’s neck. He had dreamed of the man screaming Chang’s name just before the beheading. Chang spent the next day erasing any mention of his father’s death from GC records. He did not want his boss, Aurelio Figueroa, or anyone else in New Babylon knowing his dad had turned against Nicolae Carpathia at the end.

  Chang knew he would see his father again in heaven, and that fact kept him going. But he felt a heaviness, a weight on his shoulders each day he came to work and followed orders.

  Chang’s sister, Ming Toy, was still in China with their mother, and Chang encouraged Ming to stay there and not risk traveling to the underground hideout in San Diego. Things in China were terrible, but any movement of believers anywhere was extremely dangerous.

  Chang spent most of his time outside of work talking and planning with the adult Trib Force, but he had a special interest in the Young Trib Force as well. High on his priority list was helping Judd and Lionel move north to Wisconsin, but with daily reports about new bounty hunters scattered across the South, Chang felt sick. He could see no way Judd and Lionel could leave soon.

  Though Chang felt lonely without believers to talk with face-to-face, he prayed almost constantly as he worked at his desk in the palace. The most evil being in the universe was in the same building, but Chang could pour out his heart to God and know that God heard every word, every request, and every praise. Once, Chang had seen Nicolae walking in the courtyard with several GC officials. Chang was praying for the safe evacuation of several Tribulation Force members, and Nicolae had looked directly at him.

  Can he read my thoughts? Chang decided to test him. You are evil in the flesh, the total opposite of the loving God I serve.

  Nicolae looked away and joined another conversation, and Chang was convinced the man couldn’t know his thoughts. Only the true God had that kind of power.

  As Chang continued his work, accessing data for his boss, he stumbled onto some information from the United North American States. He had been searching for details about the location of bounty hunters. The document before him contained a grid of the southern states with dots. Chang clicked on the dots, and a picture of each bounty hunter popped up with details about where each person lived, their previous occupation, how old they were, if they were married, and other data.

  Chang copied the file and decided to wait until he was back in his apartment to send it to Judd. “God, you know what they need to make it back to their friends. I pray this will help them in some way, and if it be your will, help them reach their friends.”

  Chang opened his eyes and was startled to see a GC Peacekeeper standing beside his desk. “Chang Wong?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re to come with me immediately.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No questions. We’re going to Director Akbar’s office.”

  Judd was amazed at the way the group flew into action and worked together to make the house look like no one lived there. They had obviously practiced this procedure.

  Luke pulled out rickety chairs and a broken table from a pantry. Others raced to the kitchen, gathered dishes and silverware, and hid them upstairs. Carl Meninger took care of the computer equipment and brought the radio with him to the hidden cellar. Within a few minutes the house was transformed into a run-down building.

  “We’ve got two bogeys, both headed toward the house via the main road,” Tom said over the radio. “They don’t look familiar.”

  “Take your positions,” Luke said.

  Everyone ran in different directions, and Judd stared at Luke. “What do you want Lionel and me to do?”

  He pointed toward the cellar door, then stopped and cocked his head. “Wait a minute. If these are bounty hunters and they don’t turn back at the signs, this might be a good chance to try out our idea. Take one of the BHDs and crawl into the tall grass beside the house. Make sure they don’t see you.”

  Judd and Lionel raced to the supply room, grabbed a kit, hurried out the back, and crawled into the grass.

  When they were far enough to get a good look at the marsh, they stopped and opened the kit.

  “What if it’s the guys who caught us, Max and Albert?” Lionel said.

  “They’ll wish they hadn’t come looking for us,” Judd said.

  A few minutes passed before Tom whispered that a male and female had passed him and were at the warning signs.

  “They’re coming through the fence. Everybody get ready,” Tom whispered.

  Judd took out a weird contraption Carl had put together: a curved telescope that allowed the viewer to see around corners or above something taller. Judd fit the pieces together and raised the scope to the top of the grass.

  “See anything?” Lionel said.

  “Yeah, two coming this way. They’re looking at the signs.”

  “Maybe that’ll stop them.”

  Judd paused, zooming in. “No, they’re headed our way.”

  “All right, looks like we’re having company,” Luke said into the earpiece. “Tom, follow those guys at a close distance. Judd and Lionel are to the east of the house waiti
ng. We’re testing the BHDs.”

  “You’re gonna jump them?” Tom whispered. “What’ll you do after that? They’ll know somebody’s in the house and we’ll have to leave.”

  A long pause. “You’re right, little brother. Judd and Lionel, you two keep down out there.”

  “Got it,” Judd said.

  Judd and Lionel were far enough away from the house that the two intruders would have to step on them to find them. Judd felt itchy with all the bugs in the weeds, but as the strangers approached, he couldn’t move.

  “A hundred yards,” Luke said. “I’m in the observation tower. Everybody hold your position, except you, Tom, and give me a report if they’re coming into the cellar.”

  Judd put the scope away and waited. Wind blew the grass above his head. What if the two came around the house and found them? Then what? He took a breath and waited.

  Chang had been questioned by his boss, Aurelio Figueroa, before, but he had never been in Director Akbar’s office. The director’s secretary glanced up when he walked in and motioned to a conference room. Chang sank into a leather chair as the Peacekeeper pulled up a questionnaire on a computer screen. Chang saw his picture with the vital statistics such as his age, height, weight, nationality, how long he had been employed by the Global Community, etc.

  Has someone found out about my father?

  When the Peacekeeper finished taking information, he excused himself, walked out of the room, and closed the door.

  Chang realized how isolated he was. If the GC discovered he was the mole, they would have him executed on the spot and the rest of the Trib Force wouldn’t know of his death. It might even put the others in danger, since Chang’s computer at home carried the contact information for just about everyone.

  Chang tried to calm himself. This was exactly what the GC wanted, to upset him enough that he’d appear nervous and say things he didn’t want to say. Chang told himself that David Hassid had covered his tracks well and that no one but Chang could access the information in his computer.

  By the time Suhail Akbar and the Peacekeeper walked into the room, Chang had stopped sweating.