by Tim LaHaye
So while Nicolae Carpathia’s right-hand man, Leon Fortunato, spoke soothingly—“Tread carefully, loyal subjects. Help one another. Avoid danger.”—a recorded version of “Hail Carpathia,”
sung by the 500-voice Carpathianism Chorale, played in the background:
Hail Carpathia, our lord and risen king;
Hail Carpathia, rules o’er everything.
We’ll worship him until we die;
He’s our beloved Nicolae.
Hail Carpathia, our lord and risen king.
________
Rayford hated that song and the infernal penchant of the Global Community Broadcasting System to play it over the radio at least every two hours. Carpathia insisted upon its performance at his every public appearance. The staged parades and rallies in his honor always began and ended with it.
Something strange was happening here, though. While the people seemed to rouse and slowly, agonizingly move toward the sound, no one sang along.
“Remember,” Fortunato intoned, his words pinched when he grimaced from his own pain, “those of us servicing you, bringing you water and food, are also following the sound to the right
places. Please be patient and allow pushcarts to pass. There is plenty for everyone if we all work together. Now, sing along with the chorale. This takes the place of your worshiping our supreme potentate’s image, currently not visible.”
The people around Rayford were not encouraged. “I’m not singing,” one said. “Death to the potentate!”
“Watch your mouth,” another said. “You’ll get yourself killed.”
“Carpathia can’t see any more than we can! He doesn’t know who’s talking.”
“He’s no mere mortal. I wouldn’t be tempting fate.”
“What has he done for you lately?”
Personnel inside the palace had a better time of it, Rayford assumed. They could at least feel their way to familiar places, including showers, beds, and refrigerators. Many outside couldn’t even find their way back in. Rayford could only imagine the disorientation of zero light anywhere. It was frustrating enough to have been granted even diminished vision.
“There are twelve separate loudspeaker towers,” Fortunato said, the music mercifully subdued as he spoke. “When supplies have arrived, please be as orderly as possible. State your name so our personnel can record it on audiodisc, and take your ration of food and water.”
“We want answers too!” someone shouted as if Fortunato could hear. “What is this? How long will it last? Why does it hurt?”
________
Chloe knew what Ming Toy’s response to this new danger would be in the morning. She and Ree Woo would want to marry right away. Everyone but Chloe had been trying to talk them out of it,
but Ming had it all planned. She wanted Tsion Ben-Judah to officiate from Petra via video cam. “I know it’s a lot to ask of such an important and busy man,” she confided to Chloe. “But I have designed the ceremony to last just a few minutes.”
“I think he’d do it,” Chloe had told her. “I would if I were him.”
The same people who urged Ming and Ree not to marry, given where things stood on the prophetic calendar, were the ones who had advised against Chloe and Buck having a child during the Tribulation. But certain matters were private issues of the heart.
Chloe couldn’t imagine not having married Buck, despite knowing how little time they had. And she couldn’t get her mind around the concept of life without their precious little one.
If Ming and Ree wanted a year of marriage before the Glorious Appearing, whose business was it but theirs? It wasn’t as if they were unaware of the hardships. Starting a family at this stage was another thing, of course, but Chloe figured that was none of her business either, unless Ming asked.
It seemed Buck was asleep again in seconds. She assumed George was right about his wife sleeping through his leaving their quarters. Priscilla was one of the busiest people in the compound, always up before dawn and rarely fully healthy. She often appeared groggy soon after dinner and was usually in bed by nine.
Chloe was glad to stand watch, if for no other reason than to keep Buck from having to do it for the fourth night in a row. She enjoyed the routine—checking the motion detector, surveying the area with the periscope. Her daily job was hectic and demanding, spent almost entirely at the computer, contacting and coordinating suppliers and shippers of supplies and foodstuffs around the globe.
That was also her way of keeping up with the news, only the news kept getting worse. More and more of her contacts were being found out, caught by the GC in nighttime raids or at surprise
checkpoints. As soon as it was discovered that these delivery people did not bear the mark of loyalty to Carpathia, they were executed.
One eyewitness reported that the Co-op driver of an eighteen-wheeler, laden with copies of Buck’s The Truth magazine translated into Norwegian, refused to let his cargo fall into GC
hands. Distracting checkpoint guards long enough for his backup driver to escape, he set the rig to roll out of control and plunge down a hundred-foot embankment into a deep fjord. Morale Monitors shot him to death.
Chloe also heard of dissidents around the world, Jews mostly, who, rather than being put to death, were transported to concentration camps where they were mercilessly tortured while purposely kept alive.
Occasional reports of miraculous interventions came, like an angel appearing at a guillotine site to warn the uncommitted of the consequences of choosing Carpathia’s mark. Besides the fact that by now even the last-minute decision to take the mark was futile—
tardy ones were put to death anyway—the angel had pleaded with the undecideds to choose Christ and be saved. And many did.
Chloe wrapped an afghan around her shoulders and moseyed to Kenny’s room. His breathing was still deep and slow, and she draped another blanket over him. He did not stir.
Closing his door, she checked the motion detector, then sat before the periscope. With no evidence of anyone in the area, she could raise and rotate it for a full view. She rather liked having the contraption in the middle of her home. It satisfied some inner need to protect—control, Buck would have teased—her friends and loved ones, the more than two hundred who now lived
underground in San Diego. All hoped to survive until the Glorious Appearing, but more than that, to also somehow make a difference from their claustrophobic warren.
A unique feature of the periscope was that the viewer did not have to move when it did. A simple control on the handgrips raised and lowered the contraption, as well as made it scan in a circle in either direction. Chloe didn’t want to think about the series of mirrors required for that.
As she rested her forehead on the eyepiece and relaxed, letting her eyes adjust to the low light outside, she noticed that George Sebastian had left the scope at ground level and pointing west. The topside lens was camouflaged with fake shrubbery. It could be raised as much as five feet, but it was crucial to do a 360-degree scan at ground level first to be sure no one was in the vicinity who might notice.
The scan could be done all in one smooth motion at virtually any speed, but of course the San Diego Trib Force had learned that slower was better and easier on the eyes and equilibrium. Chloe’s method of choice, however, was to move the mechanism one inch at a time. With each mash of a tiny red plunger on the left-hand grip, another one-inch turn of the lens brought a new 45-degree view; thus eight moves covered 360 degrees.
Seeing nothing due west, Chloe began her incremental scan to the right. It was just past three o’clock in the morning in California.
________
Rayford had walked perhaps a quarter of a mile north from the terminal, easily slipping past men and women clearly younger than he but who shuffled along with the painful gait of the elderly.
“In our effort to keep you totally informed,”
Fortunato announced, “we bring some encouraging news. While it remains true that no light is being em
itted in New Babylon, this puzzling phenomenon has not affected telephone or radio
transmission. Our heating and cooling systems remain functional.
Your stoves even work, unless they are solar powered. Electric and gas stoves will still burn and radiate heat, though you will not see it, so be extremely careful.
“Pilots flying from New Babylon or toward her when this darkness occurred report that it is confined to the city. As we do not know how long this will last, be assured that if you can follow a path that leads you beyond our borders, you will eventually reach light.”
From all around, Rayford heard determination on the parts of the sufferers. “I’m going,” one said.
“Me too. I don’t know where or how, but I’m getting to the light somehow.”
“Does anyone have a Braille compass? We’ll wander in circles without one.”
“Attention,” Fortunato broke in again, “all senior command personnel are to meet in the potentate’s office at 1500 hours.”
Rayford studied his watch. It’s one-fifteen. How are they going to pull that off by three in the afternoon?
“Use audio clocks,” Fortunato said. “It is now 1315 hours. At 1430 hours we shall turn off all loudspeakers except for the ones on the tower near the west entrance of the palace. Follow the sound there and you should be able to make your way to the meeting.
Elevators are operational. The bottom right button is the top floor.
Attendance is mandatory but limited to command-level personnel.”
“I’m going anyway,” someone said.
“So am I. Get to the bottom of this.”
“Find out what the deal is.”
“He’s supposed to be god incarnate; why can’t he do
something?”
Rayford blinked, then blinked again. In the distance he thought he saw light. He was getting farther from the plane and from where
Chang and Naomi and Abdullah were, but if worse came to worst, he could follow command personnel to the palace entrance at two-thirty and find his people from there. For now, he had to investigate the light.
________
Chloe was four clicks into her intermittent scan now, looking due east. As she studied the dark landscape she detected a pair of pinpricks of light. She held her breath as they became larger.
Whatever they represented was drawing closer. Soon it became clear it was a car or truck. It rolled to within a block of the compound, stopped, and turned around. Now she saw only the red taillights. And there it sat. For ten minutes, then another five.
Chloe hurriedly scanned the rest of the way around. Nothing.
One more click and she was back to the east section and the idle vehicle. No way she was going to wake Buck for this. It wasn’t as if those in the compound expected no traffic outside. But there wasn’t much else in the area, certainly nothing worth stopping for at this time of the night.
Chloe wished the periscope had a telescope feature so she could home in on the vehicle and see whether anyone was emerging. The compound’s hidden vehicle bay, used only at night when they knew the area was clear, opened to the east. Dare she head that way for a closer look? An individual service door, hidden next to the big one, would allow her to peek out if she kept the inside lights off. She would be a hundred yards closer. And it wasn’t like she was planning to actually venture outside.
Chloe pulled a black sweat suit with a hood from the closet and put it on over her pajamas and sweatshirt. Over thick woolen socks she laced high-top hiking boots. She took the Uzi but not the walkie-talkie. She didn’t want any unintended transmission to give
her away. And she did not intend to get herself into a situation where she’d need to call for help. The Uzi was just for peace of mind. So was the prayer: “Lord, help me or forgive me, one of the two.”
Chloe quietly opened Kenny’s door yet again. He hadn’t moved. She felt his cheek. Moist with sleep but comfortably warm.
She kissed his forehead. Cool and soft.
Shutting his door, she made her way to where Buck slept and planted a knee on the mattress next to his midsection. She leaned to kiss him, holding his head. If he were anything but sound asleep, that would have roused him. In the darkness Chloe was struck by the contrast between her dark clothing and her skin, which hardly ever saw the sun.
She found gloves and a ski mask, and by the time she was in the corridor that led past other underground quarters to the vehicle bay, Chloe was sweating. Their place was in the center of the complex, and four wings led to everyone else’s places. She crept past the Sebastians’, three other families’ places, a bank of single men’s residences—including Ree Woo’s and her own father’s—
two more family places, then a mixture of family and single quarters, including Ming’s.
Everybody knew Big George was on watch tonight and that Buck Williams, in charge when Rayford was gone, was first alternate. That must have been why everyone seemed to be sleeping so soundly.
________
Rayford broke away from the tentative crowd and headed toward the light. Was it his imagination? Past twenty feet all was foggy anyway, and no one near him seemed able to see anything, let alone what he saw. The closer he got, the more the light appeared
to be the silhouette of a person, but he saw nothing else and guessed it was still fifty yards away. When he had worked at the palace and lived nearby, the garages and motor pool had been in that area.
Had someone figured a way to produce light? Rayford had passed through small groups of limping people, and now it appeared nothing stood between him and this . . . this what?
Apparition? It looked merely bright from a distance, but soon the color became more distinct. First red, then yellowish, and finally, a deep burnt orange. Yes, clearly a person, specifically a man, tall and lithe. And moving.
Others were within a few feet of the man, using his light to work on vehicles. They seemed in pain like everyone else, but they worked with dispatch, as if invigorated by the light. The glowing man appeared to be able to see as far as he radiated, about three feet. Anyone who needed light had to be that close to him.
Rayford realized it was Carpathia. Dr. Ben-Judah had often taught that this same person came first as a lying snake, then as a roaring lion, and finally as an angel of light. Rayford had to stifle a chuckle. The devil in Nicolae surely wished he could emit more than this pathetic glow that allowed him to identify only those within a few feet of him.
Rayford moved until he was among a small crowd just outside the circle of mechanics trying to ready several vehicles for some purpose he did not yet understand.
“All systems are functional?” Carpathia said.
“Yes, Potentate. The Jeep is operational.”
“Turn on the lights.”
The mechanic did. “You can hear the drain on the electrical system, so juice is flowing, Excellency, but as you can see—”
“As we can all see or not,” Carpathia said, “no lights. Well, if I must, I will walk ahead of the convoy until we pass through the darkness on the way to Al Hillah. I do not care how long it takes.”
What kind of a strategy was this? The brass will meet in Carpathia’s office, and then he will lead them to Al Hillah? For what? And what about the thousands remaining in New Babylon?
Wouldn’t they want to follow, to find relief?
“What’s in Al Hillah?” Rayford said.
“Who is asking?” Carpathia said. “And why do you not address me with a title of honor?”
Nicolae was looking in Rayford’s direction, but it was obvious he could see no farther than anyone else within range of his hellish aura. As Nicolae moved forward, Rayford moved back and to his left, then circled around behind Carpathia.
“Yeah,” Rayford said in a slightly different tone. “What is in Al Hillah, O Great One?”
Nicolae whirled around, and Rayford slipped away again. “I was speaking to the original questioner! Who is asking?”
“Perhaps he fle
d in fear,” Rayford said with a gravelly voice,
“Excellency.”
This could be fun.
________
Chloe had known the long passageway to the vehicle bay to be cold and damp most of the time, and perhaps it was now. But in her getup and in her state of mind, moving quickly up the incline past the vehicles and toward where the doors opened to ground level, she had grown uncomfortably warm. She removed her gloves and ski mask, chiding herself for having them on before she needed them anyway. Chloe lowered the zipper on the sweatshirt,
then squatted to cool down and catch her breath with her back against the dirt wall between the bay door and the service door.
Being that close to the surface and the outside gave Chloe a delicious feeling of freedom. Less than a year to real freedom.
Her knees soon burned, so she slid to the earthen floor and straightened her legs. Setting her weapon aside, she reached for the toes of her boots, alternately stretching her right and left sides.
Despite her many serious injuries, she was proud that her duties in Greece had proved she was still in remarkable shape. She zipped her sweatshirt to her neck, pulled the ski mask over her face, raised the hood over that, tugged on her gloves, put the strap of the Uzi over her head so the weapon rested on her right hip and in her right hand, then stood and turned to the service door.
There could be no slight opening of the bay door. That was an all or nothing deal. The glued-on sand and dirt and greenery moved as one, and the thing was either fully open or shut. But the service door, though camouflaged the same way, she could open as slowly and slightly as she wanted. She flipped off the light and gripped the doorknob.
________
Rayford hurried toward the palace. He wanted to check on the others and tell them of his plan. He had experienced more bizarre events in six years than he ever could have imagined, and while many had been bigger and louder and wilder, this was unique.
These poor people! Yes, they had made their choices, and yes, they had had their opportunities to turn to God. But what a price!
They were in agony. Everywhere he went, more and more