by Tim LaHaye
Fail, Carpathia, you fake and stupid thing;
Fail, Carpathia, fool of everything.
I’ll hassle you until you die;
You’re headed for a lake of fire.
Fail, Carpathia, you fake and stupid thing.
Finally Suhail Akbar opened the car door with a flourish and a deep bow, and Carpathia bounded out alone. The crowds gasped, then roared and applauded at the youthful man wearing gold sandals and an iridescent white robe, cinched at the waist with a silver belt that seemed to glow with its own light source. As bodyguards in sunglasses and black suits, hands clasped before them, formed a half circle behind him, Nicolae stood with eyes closed, face beatifically pointed toward the clouds and palms outstretched as if eager to embrace everyone at once.
Buck stole a glance at Chaim, who merely squinted at Antichrist in the distance, his face a mix of sadness and disgust.
As the vehicles discreetly pulled away, a camouflage canvas-covered military truck slowly rolled to within twenty feet of Carpathia. Buck saw Fortunato kneel and reach under his robe to vigorously scratch his ankle.
Two uniformed GC Peacekeepers lowered a ramp from the truck; then one jumped onto the trailer and the other reached for a dangling rope. One pulling, the other pushing, they brought into view a monstrous pink sow that, despite its enormous bulk, daintily stepped down the ramp and turned slowly to face Carpathia. The animal, which had clearly been drugged, reacted lethargically to the mayhem.
A black leather strap with a flat leather pad and rounded, covered stirrups was fastened around its middle. Carpathia approached and cupped the pig’s fleshy face in his hands, looking over his shoulder to the crowd, which was now laughing and whooping in frenzy. One of the Peacekeepers handed him what appeared to be a noose, which Carpathia draped around the sow’s neck.
Then, with one hand on the rope and the hem of his own garment—which he hiked up to his knee—and the other steadied by a Peacekeeper, Nicolae placed his left foot in a stirrup and swung his right over the pig’s back. He let go of the Peacekeeper’s hand and smoothed his robe back down over his legs, held the rope with both hands, and looked again to the crowd for a response. The pig had moved not an inch under Nicolae’s weight, and as he yanked on the rope, tightening the knot around its neck, the spindly legs felt for purchase on the pavement and slowly turned to move the other direction. Nicolae waved as the crowd exulted.
“I don’t get it!” a man in front of Buck said, his accent German. “What’s he doing?”
“Putting all previous religions in their places, Friedrich!” his wife said, her eyes glued to the scene. “Even Christianity. Especially Christianity.”
“But what’s with the pig?”
“Christianity has Jewish roots,” she said, still not looking at him. “What’s more offensive to a Jew than an animal he’s not allowed to eat?”
The man shrugged, and finally she turned to look at him. “It’s hardly subtle.”
“That’s what I’m thinking! You’d think he’d have more class.”
“Hey,” she said, “you come back from the dead, and you can define class any way you want.”
The spectacle was broadcast internationally on radio and television and via the Internet. David followed it on his computer as Albie helicoptered him toward Petra. Carpathia’s brazenness shouldn’t have surprised him, but with relatives in Israel and childhood memories of the place, the whole pageant gave him a headache. David’s scalp itched, but he dared not scratch it. He pressed his palm over the healing area, which reminded him of Hannah’s treating him. That, of course, reminded him of what he was doing when he had collapsed—searching for his missing fiancée in the aftermath of Carpathia’s resurrection—and he felt the familiar ache for Annie. He would see her again in less than three and a half years, but that made the second half of the Tribulation seem even longer. If he stayed in Petra, it would be that long before he saw Hannah again too.
David envied Buck Williams and his marriage. He couldn’t wait to meet Chloe, the brain behind the International Commodity Co-op. Besides creating an underground where believers would be able to buy and sell from each other when they were restricted from world markets, she had almost single-handedly brought together the personnel for Operation Eagle without having met them. In a cooler behind Albie was food enough to last David until the fleeing Israelis joined him. Maybe God would feed David with manna before the others arrived. He hoped bringing food was not evidence of faithlessness.
Chloe Williams had arranged for the shipment of the latest high-tech computer equipment from various parts of the world, and that too was in the cargo hold. David could only guess how long it would take him and Albie to unload. He studied an aerial sketch of the area and wondered where he would set up and where he would live. “This place sure doesn’t look like it could house all the believers in Israel.”
“It won’t,” Albie said. “We’re estimating a million people will need refuge. Petra will hold about a quarter of that.”
“What do you plan to do with the rest?”
“Expand the borders, that’s all. The co-op has tents for the others.”
“Will they be safe? Outside Petra, I mean?”
Albie shook his head. “There’s only so much we know, brother. This is a faith mission.”
At a little after three in the morning in Chicago, Tsion lay with his hands behind his head on the cot in his study. He fought sleep as he watched the broadcast on his computer monitor. Hearing voices in the commons area, he padded out to find Chloe, Kenny on her lap, watching television.
“Do you believe this?” he said.
“Dis!” Kenny said, and Chloe shushed him.
She pressed her lips together. “I wish I were there.”
“You should be pleased with what God has allowed you to accomplish, Chloe. Every report says things are going like clockwork.”
“I know. And I’ve learned what strangers can do when they have a bond.”
Tsion sat on the floor. “The vehicle advance should be underway by now.”
“It is,” she said. “And it’s one of the riskiest parts. We didn’t have time to put GC insignias on the vehicles.”
“God knows,” Tsion said.
“Gott!” Kenny said.
“That’s God in German, you know,” Tsion said.
“I doubt he’s bilingual,” Chloe said. “But apparently Buck is. Never studied another language and now he’s speaking Hebrew without even knowing it.”
It was clear to Buck that Carpathia had decided not to address the crowds until either the Garden Tomb or the Temple Mount. All along the Via Dolorosa he confused many by skipping traditional sites, and the people sang and chanted and cheered. Chaim seemed to move more and more slowly, and Buck worried about his health.
The drugged pig was even weaker, however, and the milling throngs found it hilarious somehow when her front legs buckled and she dropped to her knees, nearly pitching Carpathia on his head. They laughed and laughed as aides rushed to help Carpathia off the animal. He formed a gun with his thumb and forefinger and pretended to pop the sow where she rested. Then he dragged a finger across his own neck, as if remembering the actual plan for the porker.
Nicolae strode on while the military truck pulled into view and half a dozen Peacekeepers worked on getting the pig back on four feet and into the trailer. The potentate jogged from the central bus station area up to the traditional site of Calvary, and it was all Buck could do to watch. He was grateful there was no mock crucifixion, but still it turned his stomach to see Carpathia stand at the edge of the Mount and again spread his arms as if embracing the world.
Suddenly Fortunato stepped beside his boss and tried to mimic his pose. He could hold it only so long before having to scratch his backside or his ankle. Some in the crowd seemed to develop sympathetic itches. “Behold the lamb who takes away the sins of the world!” Fortunato bellowed.
Buck gritted his teeth and looked away, noticing that Chaim’s b
reath now came in short gasps.
The sky blackened, and people pulled their collars up and looked around for shelter. “You need not move if you are loyal to your risen ruler!” Fortunato said. “I have been imbued with power from on high to call down fire on the enemies of the king of this world. Let the loyalists declare themselves!”
Buck froze. While thousands jumped and screamed and waved, he stood stock-still, fearing that just about anyone would be able to tell he opposed Carpathia. Chaim crossed his arms and stared directly up at Fortunato, as if daring the man to strike him dead.
“Today you shall have opportunity to worship the image of your god!” Fortunato shouted, but he could be seen only when lightning flashed. Buck saw rapturous looks on the faces of the crowd. “But now you have opportunity to praise him in person! All glory to the lover of your souls!”
Thousands knelt and raised their arms to Nicolae, who remained with his hands outstretched, drinking in the worship.
“How many of you will receive the mark of loyalty even this day at the Temple Mount?” Fortunato implored, now scratching in three places, including his stomach.
Buck stared at the strobelike image of Carpathia’s pitiful sycophant, wondering if he would be revealed and struck dead by the man whose power came from the pit of hell.
Thousands rose from their knees to wave, to assure the leader of Carpathianism that they would be there, taking the mark in the shadow of the image. That at least made Buck and Chaim less conspicuous.
“My lord, the very god of this world, has granted me the power to know your hearts!” Fortunato said. The people jumped and waved all the more.
“Not true,” Chaim whispered. Buck leaned close. “Carpathia—Antichrist—Satan is not omniscient. He cannot tell his False Prophet what he himself cannot know.”
Buck narrowed his eyes at Chaim. So this was it? This was the opposition? This was Moses standing against Pharaoh? Buck gestured as if Chaim should shout it out, make it clear. But Chaim looked away.
“I know if your heart is deceitful!” Fortunato said between claps of thunder, rubbing his body in the flashing light. “You shall not be able to stand against the all-seeing eye of your god or his servant!”
The hymn to Nicolae spontaneously erupted again, but Buck did not have the heart to sing even his own lyrics.
Suddenly the crowd fell deathly still, and the thunder diminished to low rolls that seemed to come from far away. Fortunato stood surveying the massive throng, still scratching, but his eyes piercing. Carpathia had somehow maintained his pose for several minutes. Heads and eyes turned toward a high, screeching voice from the base of Golgotha. The crowd evaporated from around a woman who stood pointing at Carpathia and Fortunato.
“Liars!” she railed. “Blasphemers! Antichrist! False Prophet! Woe unto you who would take the place of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! You shall not prevail against the God of heaven!”
Buck was stricken. It was Hattie! Chaim dropped to his knees, clasped his hands before his face, and prayed, “God, spare her!”
“I have spoken!” Fortunato shouted.
“Yours is the empty, vain tongue of the damned!” Hattie called out. She lifted her pointing finger from the two on the hill and raised it above her head. “As he is my witness, there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus!”
Fortunato pointed at her, and a ball of fire roared from the black sky, illuminating the whole area. Hattie burst into flames. The masses fell away, screaming in terror as she stood burning, mighty tongues of fire licking at her clothes, her hair, enveloping her body. As she seemed to melt in the consuming blaze, the clouds rolled back, the lightning and thunder ceased, and the sun reappeared.
A soft breeze made Hattie topple like a statue. People gaped as she was quickly reduced to ash, her silhouette branded onto the ground. As the fire died and the smoke wafted, Hattie’s remains skittered about with the wind.
Fortunato drew the attention back to himself. “Marvel not that I say unto you, all power has been given to me in heaven and on the earth!” Carpathia carefully made his way down the Place of the Skull, and the silent crowds moved to follow. As people passed the smoldering ashes, some spit, and others kicked at the powdery stuff.
Buck was overwhelmed with memories of meeting Hattie, of introducing her to Carpathia. He turned and grabbed the praying Rosenzweig by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet. “That should have been you,” he hissed. “Or me! We should not have left her with the responsibility!”
He let go of the man’s robe and marched off toward the Garden Tomb, not caring whether Chaim kept up with him. If Rosenzweig would not accept the mantle, despite having been a believer even longer than Hattie, maybe Buck was being called to stand in the gap. He didn’t know what Carpathia or Fortunato had in store for the tomb, but this time, if need be, he would be the one to oppose Antichrist.
Rayford hadn’t felt as motivated or useful since he had first become a believer. Supervising the advance of his Operation Eagle troops, he had kept just an intermittent eye on what Carpathia was up to. It would be clear when Chaim revealed himself and sent the remnant toward refuge. That would be his cue to start watching for the return to Mizpe Ramon and the airlift to safety.
But now his phone was alive with messages. He took Chloe’s call first. “What was that?” she asked. “Clearly Fortunato zapped someone, but they didn’t show who! Was it Chaim?”
“I don’t know,” Rayford said. “Let me call you back.”
David reported the same thing just before Rayford heard from Mac and then Abdullah. “I’ll call Buck,” he told them.
But Buck wasn’t answering.
David spent the next hour setting up near what he knew to be a “high place,” a site used centuries before by pagans who believed they were sacrificing to their gods by being as close to heaven as possible. He was lonely already, Albie having headed back as soon as he was unloaded. David didn’t know how long it would be before he was joined by as many as a million others. So far he had seen only from the air the stunning red-rock masterpiece of a city carved from stone. He couldn’t imagine what it would look like from close-up when he had the time to explore.
No one seemed to know what happened with Fortunato and the crowd at Calvary, and David’s occasional glances at the screen merely showed the crowds making their way to the Garden Tomb. Then he heard a tone and stood still in the lofty quiet of the high place. Someone was trying to reach him on his computer. David scrambled from a cave he had decided might be his first living quarters. He reached his computer and sat cross-legged before it. The play-by-play from Jerusalem droned on, commentators filling time before the next event, no one specific about what had gone on at the last site. He checked the encoded Operation Eagle site but found nothing new.
The tone sounded again, and he switched screens to receive a summons from Chang Wong in his apartment at the palace in New Babylon.
“I found the mother lode!” Chang had written. “Uploading so you can celebrate with me.”
Supreme Commander Walter Moon was clearly not comfortable in front of a crowd, particularly the size of the one pressing around the Garden Tomb. A microphone and sound system had been hastily rigged up for him, and he read nervously from notes. Buck had been among the first to arrive, and he had lost Chaim.
The attitude of the crowd had changed. The festive, eager anticipation had given way to dread, yet no one seemed to feel free to leave. They had seen the power delegated to Leon Fortunato, and surely no one wanted to give the impression they weren’t following through on their commitment to taking the mark of loyalty.
“Thank you for being with us today,” Moon began. “As you may know, I’m Global Community Supreme Commander Walter Moon, and I’m filling in temporarily for the Most High Reverend Father Fortunato as he goes on ahead to prepare for Potentate Nicolae Carpathia’s address at the Temple Mount an hour from now.”
�
�Is he all right?” someone called out.
“Oh, he’s better than all right,” Moon said, “judging by his performance at Golgotha.” He apparently thought that would elicit a laugh, and when it didn’t, he searched his notes again to find his place.
Buck called Chang. “We on secure phones, Mr. Wong?” he asked. “Be sure.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Williams, and I just communicated with Mr. Hassid by computer that—”
“Sorry, kid, no time. Check with Medical and see what’s happening with Fortunato.”
“I’m sorry?”
“What didn’t you hear?”
“I heard you all right, sir, but I was under the impression you were with the pageant there in Jerusalem. That’s where Carpathia and Fortunato are, along with—”
“Fortunato’s disappeared and they’re saying he’s gone on ahead for preparations.”
“I’m on it.” Buck heard him tapping at a keyboard. “Good call, Mr. Williams,” he said. Now reading, “ ‘Classified, top secret, director-level eyes only . . . Most High Reverend, blah, blah, blah, under care of palace surgeon in chief, mobile unit, Jerusalem, blah, blah.’ Ah, here it is. ‘Preliminary diagnosis rash, several boil-like epidermal eruptions, testing for carbuncles.’ That’s all that’s here for now.”
CHAPTER 4
Tsion worried about Chloe. She had a lot on her mind, sure, and the pressure had to be enormous. But she seemed so distracted. No doubt she dreaded Buck’s being in yet another dangerous situation, but if Tsion had to guess, being so far from the action frustrated her. Everyone in the Trib Force had, at one time or another, tried to impress upon Chloe that she was among its most crucial members and that few people anywhere could do what she was doing. But she was a young woman of action. She wanted to be there in the thick of it. Tsion wished he could dissuade her.