Soul Harvest: The World Takes Sides

by Tim LaHaye

  Buck shook his head and stared as the number changed every one to two seconds. “Tsion, this is astounding.”

  “It is a miracle, Cameron. I am humbled and yet energized. God fills me with love for every person who stands with us, and especially for all who have questions. I remind them that almost anywhere you click on our bulletin board, you find the plan of salvation. The only problem is, because it is not our own Web site, all this has to be posted new every week.”

  Buck put a hand on the rabbi’s shoulder. “It won’t be long before the mass meetings in Israel. I pray God’s protection for you.”

  “I feel such boldness—not based on my own strength, but on the promises of God—that I believe I could walk alone to the Temple Mount without being harmed.”

  “I’m not going to let you try that, Tsion, but you’re probably right.”

  “Here, look, Cameron.” Tsion clicked onto the icon allowing him to see the two witnesses at the Wailing Wall. “I long to talk with them again in person. I feel a kinship even though they are supernatural beings, come from heaven. We will spend eternity with them, hearing the stories of God’s miracles from people who were there.”

  Buck was fascinated. The two preached when they wanted to and fell silent when they chose. Crowds knew to keep their distance. Anyone trying to harm them had dropped dead or had been incinerated by fire from the witnesses’ mouths. And yet Buck and Tsion had stood within a few feet of them, only a fence separating them. It seemed they spoke in riddles, yet God always gave Buck understanding. As he watched now, Eli sat in Jerusalem’s gathering darkness with his back to an abandoned room made of stone. It looked as if guards may have once used it. Two heavy iron doors were sealed, and a small barred opening served as a window. Moishe stood, facing the fence that separated him from spectators. None was within thirty feet. His feet were spread, his arms straight at his sides. He did not move. It appeared Moishe was not blinking. He looked like something carved from stone, save for the occasional wisp of hair ruffling in the breeze.

  Eli shifted his weight occasionally. He massaged his forehead, making him appear to be thinking or praying.

  Tsion glanced at Buck. “You are doing what I do. When I need a break, I go to this site and watch my brothers. I love to catch them preaching. They are so bold, so forthright. They do not use Antichrist’s name, but they warn enemies of the Messiah of what is to come. They will be so inspiring to those of the 144,000 who can make it to Israel. We will join hands. We will sing. We will pray. We will study. We will be motivated to go forth with boldness to preach the gospel of Christ around the world. The fields are ripe and white unto harvest. We missed the opportunity to join Christ in the air, but what an unspeakable privilege to be alive during this time! Many of us will give our lives for our Savior, but what higher calling could a man have?”

  “You should say that to your cyberspace congregation.”

  “As a matter of fact, I was reciting the conclusion of today’s message. Now you do not have to read it.”

  “I never miss.”

  “Today I am warning believers and nonbelievers alike to stay away from trees and grass until the first Trumpet Judgment is passed.”

  Buck looked at him quizzically. “And how will we know it has passed?”

  “It will be the biggest news since the earthquake. We need to ask Ken and Floyd to help us clear several feet of grass from around the house and maybe trim some trees.”

  “You take the predictions literally then?” Buck said.

  “My dear brother, when the Bible is figurative, it sounds figurative. When it says all the grass and one-third of all trees will be scorched, I cannot imagine what that might be symbolic for. In the event our trees are part of the one-third, I want to be out of the way. Do you not?”

  “Where are Donny’s garden tools?”

  The Tigris was not frigid, but it was uncomfortable. Rayford used muscles he hadn’t used in years. His wet suit was too tight, his head throbbed, and keeping from being dragged downriver made navigating a chore. His pulse was higher than it should have been, and he worked hard to regulate his breathing. He worried about running out of air.

  He disagreed with Mac. They may have only one shot, but if they didn’t find the plane that night, Rayford would come back again and again. He wouldn’t ask Mac to do the same, though he knew Mac would never abandon him.

  Rayford prayed as he felt his way along behind Mac. Mac eased himself lower by releasing air from his BCD, and Rayford followed. When either Rayford or Mac went more than ten feet without something to grip on the side, the current threatened to pull them away from the bank.

  Rayford worked hard to stay with Mac. “Please, God, help me finish this. Show me she isn’t there, and then direct me to her. If she’s in danger, let me save her.” Rayford fought to keep from his mind the possibility that Carpathia had been telling the truth about Amanda’s true loyalties. He didn’t want to believe it, not for a second, but the thought nagged him nonetheless.

  While the souls of bodies in the Tigris were either in heaven or in hell, Rayford sensed he was to leave every one in the plane. If he found any. Was that feeling a signal from God that they were near the wreck? Rayford considered tapping Mac’s trailing fin, but he waited.

  The plane had to have hit with enough force to immediately kill everyone on board. Otherwise, passengers would have been able to unstrap and get out through holes in the fuselage or doors and windows that had burst open. But no corpses had surfaced.

  Rayford knew the wings would have been sheared off, and perhaps the tail. These planes were marvels of aerodynamics, but they were not indestructible. He dreaded seeing the result of such an impact.

  Rayford was surprised to see Mac two or three feet from the bank now, not holding onto anything. Apparently they were low enough that the powerful current was diminished. Mac stopped and checked his pressure gauge. Rayford did the same and gave a thumbs-up. Mac pointed to his head. Rayford gave the OK sign, though his head was only so-so. He moved ahead, leading the way. They were within six feet of the bottom now. Rayford sensed he would soon find what he was looking for. He prayed he would not find what he did not wish to find.

  Away from the sidewall of the river, less muck was stirred with their movements, and their lights had more range. Rayford’s picked up something, and he put up a hand to stop Mac. Despite the relative calm, they angled toward the side to keep from drifting. Both shined lights where Rayford indicated. There, bigger than life, was the huge, wholly intact right wing of a 747. Rayford fought for composure.

  Rayford scanned the area. Not far ahead they found the left wing, also intact except for a huge tear from the flaps to where it had connected to the plane. Rayford guessed they’d find the tail section next. Witnesses said the plane went in nose first, which would have brought the back of the plane down with such force that the tail should have been ripped apart or broken off.

  Rayford stayed low and moved approximately midway between where they had found the wings. Mac grabbed Rayford’s ankle just before Rayford collided with the gigantic tail of the plane. It had been severed. The plane itself had to be dead ahead. Rayford moved twenty feet ahead of the tail and turned upright so he was almost standing on the bottom. When one of his fins touched he realized how mushy it was and how dangerous it would be to get stuck.

  It was Buck’s turn to feed Hattie, who had become so weak she could barely move. Dr. Charles was on his way.

  Buck spoke softly as he spooned soup to her lips. “Hattie, we all love you and your baby. We want only the best for you. You’ve heard Dr. Ben-Judah’s teaching. You know what’s been foretold and what’s already happened. There’s no way you can deny that the prophecies of the Word of God have been fulfilled from the day of the disappearances until now. What will it take to convince you? How much more proof do you need? Bad as these times are, God is making clear that there is only one choice. You’re either on his side or you’re on the side of evil. Don’t let it get to whe
re you or your baby are killed in one of the judgments to come.”

  Hattie pressed her lips together and refused the next offering of soup. “I don’t need any more convincing, Buck,” she whispered.

  Chloe hobbled over. “Should I get Tsion?”

  Buck shook his head, keeping his eyes on Hattie. He leaned close to hear her. “I know this all has to be true,” she managed. “If I needed more convincing, I’d have to be the biggest skeptic in history.”

  Chloe brushed Hattie’s hair away from her forehead and tucked the bangs up. “She’s really hot, Buck.”

  “Crumble some Tylenol in this soup.”

  Hattie seemed to be sleeping, but Buck was worried. What a waste if they somehow lost her when she was this close to a decision for Christ. “Hattie, if you know it’s true, if you believe, all you have to do is receive God’s gift. Just agree with him that you’re a sinner like everyone else and that you need his forgiveness. Do it, Hattie. Make sure of it.”

  She appeared to be struggling to open her eyes. Her lips parted and then closed. She held a breath, as if to speak, but she did not. Finally, she whispered again. “I want that, Buck. I really do. But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference, Hattie. Even people who were raptured with Christ were just sinners saved by grace. No one is perfect. We’ve all done awful things.”

  “Not like me,” she said.

  “God wants to forgive you.”

  Chloe returned with a spoonful of crushed Tylenol and stirred it into the soup. Buck waited, praying silently. “Hattie,” he said gently, “you need more of this soup. We put medicine in it for you.”

  Tears slid down Hattie’s cheeks, and her eyes closed. “Just let me die,” she said.

  “No!” Chloe said. “You promised to be my baby’s godmother.”

  “You don’t want somebody like me for that,” Hattie said.

  “You’re not going to die,” Chloe said. “You’re my friend, and I want you for a sister.”

  “I’m too old to be your sister,” she said.

  “Too late. You can’t back out now.”

  Buck got some soup down her. “You want Jesus, don’t you?” he whispered, his lips near her ear.

  He waited a long time for her response. “I want him, but he couldn’t want me.”

  “He does,” Chloe said. “Hattie, please. You know we’re telling you the truth. The same God that fulfills prophecies centuries old loves you and wants you. Don’t say no to him.”

  “I’m not saying no to him. He’s saying no to me.”

  Chloe tugged at Hattie’s wrist. Buck looked at her in surprise. “Help me sit her up, Buck.”

  “Chloe! She can’t.”

  “She has to be able to think and listen, Buck. We can’t let her go.”

  Buck took Hattie’s other wrist, and they pulled until she sat up. She pressed her fingers against her temples and sat moaning.

  “Listen to me,” Chloe said. “The Bible says God is not willing that any should perish. Are you the one person in history who did something so bad that not even the God of the universe can forgive you? If God forgives only minor sins, there’s no hope for any of us. Whatever you’ve done, God is like the father of the Prodigal Son, scanning the horizon. He stands with his arms wide open, waiting for you.”

  Hattie rocked and shook her head. “I’ve done bad things,” she said.

  Buck looked at Chloe, helpless, wondering.

  It was worse than Rayford could have imagined. He came upon the colossal fuselage, its nose and a quarter of its length buried in the muck of the Tigris at a forty-five-degree angle. The wheel housings were gone. Rayford could only dread what he and Mac were about to see. Everything in that plane, from equipment to carry-on luggage, seats and seat backs, tray tables, phones, and even passengers, would be in one massive heap at the front. An impact violent enough to snap landing gear from a plane would immediately break the neck of any passenger. The seats would have ripped from the floor and accordioned atop each other, passengers stacked upon each other like cordwood. Everything attached would have broken loose and been forced to the front.

  Rayford wished he at least knew what seat Amanda was supposed to have been in, so he could save the time of digging through the entire wreckage to rule her out as a victim. Where to start? Rayford pointed up to the protruding tail end, and Mac followed him as they ascended.

  Rayford grabbed the edge of an open window to keep from being pulled by the current. He shined his light into the cabin, and his worst fears were confirmed. All Rayford could make out in that back section was bare floor, walls, and ceiling. Everything had been driven to the other end.

  He and Mac used the windows as grips to pull themselves down at least fifty feet to the top of the debris. The rear lavatories, storage compartments, walls, and overhead bins lay atop everything else.

  Hattie hung her head. Buck worried they were pushing her too far. Yet he would have a hard time forgiving himself if he didn’t give her every opportunity and something happened to her.

  “Do I have to tell him everything I’ve done?” Hattie breathed.

  “He already knows,” Chloe said. “If it makes you feel better to tell him, then tell him.”

  “I don’t want to say it out loud,” Hattie said. “It’s more than affairs with men. It’s even more than wanting an abortion!”

  “But you didn’t go through with it,” Chloe said.

  “Nothing is beyond God’s power to forgive,” Buck said. “Believe me, I know.”

  Hattie sat shaking her head. Buck was relieved to hear the doctor drive in. Floyd examined Hattie quickly and helped her lie down. He asked about medication, and they told him of the Tylenol. “She needs more,” he said. “Her temperature is higher than you reported just a few hours ago. She’ll be delirious soon. I need to find whatever is causing the fever.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “I’m not optimistic.”

  Hattie was moaning, trying to talk. Dr. Charles held up a finger to keep Buck and Chloe away. “You and Tsion might want to pray for her right now,” the doctor said.

  Rayford wondered about the wisdom of swimming through hundreds of corpses, especially with an open wound. Well, he figured, whatever might contaminate him had already done so. He worked feverishly with Mac to start removing the debris. They kicked wider a gash in the hull between two windows, through which they painstakingly pushed chunks of the interior.

  When they reached an unusually heavy panel, Rayford got beneath it and pushed. He quickly realized what added the weight. It had been the rear seat for the flight attendant. She was still strapped in, hands balled into fists, eyes open, long hair floating free. The men gently set the panel aside. Rayford noticed Mac’s light was dimmer.

  That panel had protected the bodies from fish. Rayford wondered what they were subjecting these corpses to now. He shined his light through the mass of tangled seats and trash. Everyone had been strapped in. Every seat appeared occupied. No one could have suffered long.

  Mac smacked his light and the beam grew brighter. He shined it into the carnage, touched Rayford’s shoulder, and shook his head as if to say they should not go farther. Rayford couldn’t blame him, but he couldn’t quit. He knew beyond doubt that the search would put him at ease about Amanda. He had to go through this grisly ordeal for his own peace of mind.

  Rayford pointed to Mac and then to the surface. Then he pointed to the bodies and smacked himself on the chest as if to say, you go and I’ll stay.

  Mac shook his head slowly as if disgusted. But he didn’t go anywhere. They began lifting bodies, belted into seats.

  Buck helped Chloe up the stairs, where they met with Tsion to pray for Hattie. When they finished, Tsion showed them that Carpathia had become his computer competition. “He must be jealous of the response,” Tsion said sadly. “Look at this.”

  Carpathia communicated to the masses in a series of short messages. Each sang the praises of th
e rebuilding forces. They encouraged people to show their devotion to the Enigma Babylon faith. Some reiterated the Global Community’s pledge to protect Rabbi Ben-Judah from zealots, should he choose to return to his homeland.

  “Look what I put in response to that,” Ben-Judah said.

  Buck peered at the screen. Tsion had written, “Potentate Carpathia: I gratefully accept your offer of personal protection and congratulate you that this makes you an instrument of the one true, living God. He has promised to seal and protect his own during this season when we are commissioned to preach his gospel to the world. We are grateful that he has apparently chosen you as our protector and wonder how you feel about it. In the name of Jesus Christ, the Messiah and our Lord and Savior, Rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah, in exile.”

  “It won’t be long now, Tsion,” Buck said.

  “I just hope I can go,” Chloe said.

  “I didn’t think there was an option,” Buck said.

  “I’m thinking of Hattie,” she said. “I can’t leave her unless she’s healthy.”

  They made their way back downstairs. Hattie was asleep, but her breathing was labored, her face flushed, her forehead damp. Chloe dabbed at her face with a cool washcloth. Dr. Charles stood at the back door, gazing through the screen.

  “Can you stay with us tonight?” Buck asked.

  “I wish I could. Actually, I wish I could take Hattie for care. But she’s so recognizable, we wouldn’t get far. After that caper in Minneapolis, I’m being looked upon with suspicion myself. I’m being watched more and more.”

  “If you have to go, you have to go.”

  “Take a look at the sky,” the doctor said.

  Buck stepped closer and looked out. The sun still rode high, but dark clouds formed on the horizon.

  “Great,” Buck said. “What will rain do to the ruts we call roads?”