by Tim LaHaye
Not that many months later came the great disappearance of millions around the world. Dozens had vanished from the plane in which he was a passenger. What more did he need? It already seemed as if he were living in a science fiction thriller. Without question he had lived through the most cataclysmic event in history. Buck realized he’d not had a second to think in the last two weeks. Had it not been for the personal tragedies he had witnessed, he might have been more private in his approach to what appeared to be a universe out of control.
He wanted to meet this Bruce Barnes, not even pretending to be interviewing him for an article. Buck was on a personal quest now, looking to satisfy deep needs. For so many years he had rejected the idea of a personal God or that he had need of God—if there was one. The idea would take some getting used to. Captain Steele had talked about everyone being a sinner. Buck was not unrealistic about that. He knew his life would never stand up to the standards of a Sunday school teacher. But he had always hoped that if he faced God someday, his good would outweigh his bad and that relatively speaking, he was as good or better than the next guy. That would have to do.
Now, if Rayford Steele and all his Bible verses could be believed, it didn’t make any difference how good Buck was or where he stood in relation to anybody else. One archaic phrase had struck him and rolled around in his head. There is none righteous, no, not one. Well, he had never considered himself righteous. Could he go to the next level and admit his need for God, for forgiveness, for Christ?
Was it possible? Could he be on the cusp of becoming a born-again Christian? He had been almost relieved when Rayford Steele had used that term. Buck had read and even written about “those kinds” of people, but even at his level of worldly wisdom he had never quite understood the phrase. He had always considered the “born-again” label akin to “ultraright-winger” or “fundamentalist.” Now, if he chose to take a step he had never dreamed of taking, if he could not somehow talk himself out of this truth he could no longer intellectually ignore, he would also take upon himself a task: educating the world on what that confusing little term really meant.
Buck finally dozed on the couch in his living room, despite a lamp shining close to his face. He slept soundly for a couple of hours but awoke in time to get to the airport. The prospect of surprising Chloe and traveling with her gave him a rush that helped overcome his fatigue. But even more exciting was the possibility that another answer man awaited him in Chicago, a man he trusted simply on the recommendation of a pilot who had seemed to speak the truth with authority. It would be fun someday to tell Rayford Steele how much that otherwise innocuous interview had meant to him. But Buck assumed Steele had already figured that out. That was probably why Steele had seemed so passionate.
If this signaled the soon beginning of the tribulation period predicted in the Bible, and Rayford had no doubt that it did, he wondered if there would be any joy in it. Bruce didn’t seem to think there would be, aside from the few converts they might be privileged to win. So far Rayford felt he was a failure. While he was certain God had given him the words and the courage to say them, he felt he had done something wrong in communicating to Hattie. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had been self-serving. It had to appear to her that he was merely getting out from under his own load of guilt. But he knew better. Before God he believed his motives pure. Yet clearly he had not persuaded Hattie of more than that he was sincere and that he believed. What good was that? If he believed and she didn’t, she had to assume he believed something bogus, or she would have to admit she was ignoring the truth. What he had told her carried no other option.
And his performance during the interview with Cameron Williams! At the time, Rayford had felt good about it, articulate, calm, rational. He knew he was discussing revolutionary, jarring stuff, but he felt God had enabled him to be lucid. Yet if he couldn’t get any more reaction out of the reporter than polite deference, what kind of a witness could he be? From the depths of his soul Rayford wanted to be more productive. He believed he had wasted his life before this, and he had only a short period to make up for lost time. He was eternally grateful for his own salvation, but now he wanted to share it, to bring more people to Christ. The magazine interview had been an incredible opportunity, but in his gut he felt it had not come off well. Was it even worth the effort to pray for another chance? Rayford believed he had seen the last of Cameron Williams. He wouldn’t be calling Bruce Barnes, and Rayford’s quotes would never see the pages of Global Weekly.
As Rayford shaved and showered and dressed, he heard Chloe packing. She had obviously been embarrassed by him last night, probably even apologized to Mr. Williams for her father’s absurd ramblings. At least she had tapped on his door and said good night when she came in. That was something, wasn’t it?
Every time Rayford thought of Chloe, he felt a tightness in his chest, a great emptiness and grief. He could live with his other failures if he must, but his knees nearly buckled as he prayed silently for Chloe. I cannot lose her, he thought, and he believed he would trade his own salvation for hers if that was what it took.
With that commitment, he sensed God speaking to him, impressing upon him that that was precisely the burden required for winning people, for leading them to Christ. That was the attitude of Jesus himself, being willing to take on himself the punishment of men and women so they could live.
Rayford was emboldened anew as he prayed for Chloe, still fighting the nagging fear of failure. “God, I need encouragement,” he breathed. “I need to know I haven’t turned her off forever.” She had said good night, but he had also heard her crying in bed.
He emerged in uniform and smiled at her as she stood by the door, dressed casually for travel. “Ready, sweetie?” he said tentatively.
She nodded and seemed to work up a smile, then embraced him tight and long, pressing her cheek against his chest. Thank you, he prayed silently, wondering if he should say anything. Was this the time? Dare he press now?
Again he felt deeply impressed of God, as if the Lord were speaking directly to his spirit, Patience. Let her be. Let her be. Keeping silent seemed as hard as anything he had ever done. Chloe said nothing either. They grabbed a light breakfast and headed to JFK.
Chloe was the first passenger on the plane. “I’ll try to get back and see you,” Rayford told her before heading to the cockpit.
“Don’t worry if you can’t,” she said. “I’ll understand.”
Buck waited until everyone else had boarded. As he approached his seat next to Chloe, her body was turned toward the window, arms crossed, chin in her hand. Whether she even had her eyes open, Buck couldn’t tell. He assumed she would turn to glance as he sat next to her, and he couldn’t suppress a smile, anticipating her reaction and only slightly worried that she would be less positive than he hoped.
He sat and waited, but she did not turn. Was she sleeping? Staring? Meditating? Praying? Was it possible she was crying? Buck hoped not. He already cared for her enough to be bothered when she seemed in pain.
And now he had a problem. As he warily watched for the change in position that would allow Chloe to see him in her peripheral vision, he was suddenly awash in fatigue. His muscles and joints ached, his eyes burned. His head felt like lead. No way was he going to fall asleep and have her discover him dozing next to her.
Buck gestured to get the attendant’s attention. “Coke, please,” he whispered. The temporary caffeine rush would allow him to stay awake a little longer.
When Chloe didn’t move even to watch the safety instructions, Buck grew impatient. Still, he didn’t want to reveal himself. He wanted to be discovered. And so he waited.
She must have grown weary of her position, because she stretched and used her feet to push her carry-on bag under the seat in front of her. She took a last sip of her juice and set it on the small tray between them. She stared at Buck’s glove-leather boots, the ones he had worn the day before. Chloe’s eyes traveled up to his smiling, expectant face.
H
er reaction was more than worth the wait. She folded her hands and drew them to her mouth, her eyes filling. Then she took his hand in both of hers. “Oh, Buck,” she whispered. “Oh, Buck.”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” he said.
Chloe quickly let go of his hand as if catching herself. “I don’t mean to act like a schoolgirl,” she said, “but have you ever received a direct answer to prayer?”
Buck shot her a double take. “I thought your dad was the praying member of your family.”
“He is,” she said. “But I just tried out my first one in years, and God answered it.”
“You prayed I would sit next to you?”
“Oh, no, I never would have dreamed of anything that impossible. How did you do it, Buck?”
He told her. “It wasn’t hard once I knew your flight time, and I said I was traveling with you to get next to you.”
“But why? Where are you going?”
“You don’t know where this plane’s going? San José, I hope.”
She laughed.
“But come on now, Chloe. Finish your story. I’ve never been an answer to prayer before.”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“I think we’ve got time.”
She took his hand again. “Buck, this is too special. This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”
“You said you were going to miss me, but I didn’t do it only for you. I’ve got business in Chicago.”
She giggled and let go again. “I wasn’t talking about you, Buck, though this is sweet. I was talking about God doing the nice thing for me.”
Buck couldn’t hide his embarrassment. “I knew that,” he said.
And she told him her story. “You might have noticed I was pretty upset last night. I was so moved by my dad’s story. I mean, I had heard it before. But all of a sudden he seemed so loving, so interested in people. Could you tell how important it was to him and how serious he was about it?”
“Who couldn’t?”
“If I didn’t know better, Buck, I would have thought he was trying to convince you personally rather than just answering your questions.”
“I’m not so sure he wasn’t.”
“Did it offend you?”
“Not at all, Chloe. To tell you the truth, he was getting to me.”
Chloe fell silent and shook her head. When she finally spoke she was nearly whispering, and Buck had to lean toward her to hear. He loved the sound of her voice. “Buck,” she said, “he was getting to me, too, and I don’t mean my dad.”
“Too bizarre,” he said. “I was up half the night thinking about this.”
“It won’t be long for either of us, will it?” she said. Buck didn’t respond, but he knew what she meant.
“When do I get to be the answer to prayer?” he prodded.
“Oh, right. I was sitting there at dinner with my dad pouring his guts out to you, and I suddenly realized why he wanted me to be there when he said the same things to Hattie. I gave him such a hard time at first that he backed off on me, and now that he had the knowledge and the real need to convince me, he was afraid to come right at me. He wanted me to get it indirectly. And I did. I didn’t hear how he started because Hattie and I were in the ladies’ room, but I had probably heard that before. When I got back, I was transfixed.
“It wasn’t that I was hearing anything new. It was new to me when I heard it from Bruce Barnes and saw that DVD, but my dad showed such urgency and confidence. Buck, there’s no other explanation for those two guys in Jerusalem, is there, except that they have to be the two witnesses talked about in the Bible?”
Buck nodded.
“So, Dad and God were getting to me, but I wasn’t ready yet. I was crying because I love him so much and because it’s true. It’s all true, Buck, do you know that?”
“I think I do, Chloe.”
“But still I couldn’t talk to my dad about it. I didn’t know what was in my way. I’ve always been so blasted independent. I knew he was frustrated with me, maybe disappointed, and all I could do was cry. I had to think, to try to pray, to sort it out. Hattie was no help. She doesn’t get it and maybe never will. All she cared about was trivial stuff, like trying to matchmake you and me.”
Buck smiled and tried to look insulted. “That’s trivial?”
“Well, compared to what we’re talking about right now, I’d have to say so.”
“Gotta give you that one,” Buck said.
She laughed. “So I knew something was wrong with Dad because I talked to you for only, what, three minutes or so before I went up?”
“Less than that, probably.”
“By the time I got to our suite, he was already in bed. So I told him good night, just to make sure he was still talking to me. He was. And then I tossed and turned, not ready to take the last step, crying about my dad’s worrying so much about me and loving me so much.”
“That’s while I was up, probably,” Buck said.
“But,” Chloe said, “this is so out of character for me. Even though I’m there, I mean, I’m right there. You follow me?”
Buck nodded. “I’ve been going through the same thing.”
“I’ve been convinced,” she said, “but I’m still fighting. I’m supposed to be an intellectual. I have critical friends to answer to. Who’s going to believe this? Who’s going to think I haven’t lost my mind?”
“Believe me, I understand,” Buck said, amazed at the similarities between their journeys.
“So, I was stuck,” she said. “I wasn’t getting anywhere. I tried to encourage my dad by not being so distant, but I could tell he saw me suffering, but I don’t think he had any idea how close I was. I got on this plane, desperate for some closure, pardon the psychobabble, and I started wondering if God answers your prayers before you’re . . . um, you know, before you’re actually a . . .”
“Born-again Christian,” Buck offered.
“Exactly. I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to say. Maybe somebody who knows better can tell me for sure, but I prayed and I think God answered. Tell me this, Buck, just with your cognitive-reasoning skills. If there is a God and if this is all true, wouldn’t he want us to know? I mean, God wouldn’t make it hard to learn and he wouldn’t, or I should say he couldn’t, ignore a desperate prayer, could he?”
“I don’t see how he could, no.”
“Well, that’s what I think. So I think it was a good test, a reasonable one, and that I wasn’t out of line. I’m convinced God answered.”
“And I was the answer.”
“And you were the answer.”
“Chloe, what exactly did you pray for?”
“Oh, well, the prayer itself wasn’t that big of a deal, until it was answered. I just told God I needed a little more. I felt bad that all the stuff I’d heard and all that I knew from my dad wasn’t enough. I just prayed really sincerely and said I would appreciate it if God could show me personally that he cared, that he knew what I was going through, and that he wanted me to know he was there.”
Buck felt a strange emotion—that if he tried to speak, his voice would be husky and he might be unable to finish a sentence. He pressed his hand over his mouth to compose himself. Chloe stared at him. “And you feel I was the answer to that prayer?” he said at last.
“No doubt in my mind. See, like I said, I wouldn’t even have conceived of praying that you would wind up next to me on the biggest day of my life. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever see you again. But it’s as if God knew better than I did that there was no one I would rather see today than you.”
Buck was touched, moved beyond expression. He had wanted to see her, too. Otherwise, he could have flown on Hattie’s flight or any one of a dozen that would have gotten him to Chicago that morning. Buck just looked at her. “So, what are you going to do now, Chloe? It seems to me that God has called your bluff. It wasn’t a bluff, exactly, but you asked and he delivered. Sounds like you’re obligated.”
; “I have no choice,” she agreed. “Not that I want one. From what I’ve gathered from Bruce Barnes and the DVD and Dad, you don’t have to have somebody lead you through this, and you don’t have to be in a church or anything. Just like I prayed for a clearer sign, I can pray about this.”
“Your dad made that clear last night.”
“You want to join me?” she asked.
Buck hesitated. “Don’t take this personally, Chloe, but I’m not ready.”
“What more do you need? . . . Oh, I’m sorry, Buck. I’m doing just what my dad did the day he became a Christian. He could hardly help himself, and I was so awful to him. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”
“I won’t need to be forced,” Buck said. “Like you, I feel like I’m right on the doorstep. But I’m pretty careful, and I want to talk to this Barnes guy today. I have to tell you, though, my remaining doubts can hardly stand up to what’s happening to you.”
“You know, Buck,” Chloe said, “I promise this will be the last thing I say about it, but I’m thinking the same way my dad did. I have this urge to tell you not to wait too long because you never know what might happen.”
“I hear you,” he said. “I’m going to have to take my chances this plane won’t go down because I still feel I need to talk to Barnes, but you have a point.”
Chloe turned and looked over her shoulder. “There are two vacant seats right there,” she said. She stopped a passing attendant. “Can I give you a message for my dad?”
“Sure. Is he captain or first officer?”
“Captain. Please just tell him his daughter has extremely good news for him.”
“Extremely good news,” the attendant repeated.
Rayford was manually flying the plane as a diversion when his senior flight attendant gave him the message. He had no idea what it meant, but it was so unlike Chloe to initiate communication lately, he was intrigued.
He asked his first officer to take over. Rayford unstrapped himself and made his way out, surprised to see Cameron Williams. He hoped Williams wasn’t the extent of Chloe’s good news. Pleasant as it was to think the man might already be making good on his promise to look up Bruce Barnes, Rayford also hoped that Chloe wasn’t about to announce some ill-advised whirlwind romance in the bud.
