Left Behind

by Tim LaHaye

  Rayford kept himself from bugging her. He determined not to tell her what he had done unless she asked. She didn’t ask before he left for church in the morning, but she apologized for not going with him. “I will go with you sometime,” she said. “I promise. I’m not being antagonistic. I’m just not ready.”

  Rayford fought the urge to warn her not to wait too long. He also wanted to plead with her to watch the DVD, but she knew he had watched it and she asked him nothing about it. He had rewound it and left it in the VCR, hoping and praying she would watch it while he was gone.

  Rayford got to the church just before ten o’clock and was shocked to have to park nearly three blocks away. The place was packed. Few were carrying Bibles, and hardly anyone was dressed up. These were scared, desperate people who filled every pew, including in the balcony. Rayford wound up standing in the back with nowhere to sit.

  Right at ten o’clock, Bruce began, but he asked Loretta to stand by the door and make sure any latecomers were welcomed. Despite the crowd, he did not use the platform spotlights, nor did he stand in the pulpit. He had placed a single microphone stand in front of the first pew, and he simply talked to the people.

  Bruce introduced himself and said, “I’m not in the pulpit because that is a place for people who are trained and called to it. I am in a place of leadership and teaching today by default. Normally we at this church would be thrilled to see a crowd like this,” he said. “But I’m not about to tell you how great it is to see you here. I know you’re here seeking to know what happened to your children and loved ones, and I believe I have the answer. Obviously, I didn’t have it before, or I too would be gone. We’ll not be singing or making any announcements, except to tell you we have a Bible study scheduled for Wednesday night at seven. We will not be taking any offering, though we will have to start doing that next week to meet our expenses. The church has some money in the bank, but we do have a mortgage and I have living expenses.”

  Bruce then told the same story he had told Rayford and Chloe the day before, and his voice was the only sound in the place. Many wept. He showed the DVD, and more than a hundred people prayed along with the pastor at the end. Bruce urged them to begin coming to New Hope.

  He added, “I know many of you may still be skeptical. You may believe what happened was of God, but you still don’t like it and you resent him for it. If you would like to come back and vent and ask questions this evening, I will be here. But I choose not to offer that opportunity this morning because so many here are brand-new in their faith and I don’t want to confuse the issue. Rest assured we will be open to any honest question.

  “I do want to open the floor to anyone who received Christ this morning and would like to confess it before us. The Bible tells us to do that, to make known our decision and our stand. Feel free to come to the microphone.”

  Rayford was the first to move, but as he came down the aisle he sensed many falling in behind him. Dozens waited to tell their stories, to say where they’d been on their spiritual journey. Most were just like he was, having been on the edges of the truth through a loved one or friend, but never fully accepting the truth about Christ.

  Their stories were moving and hardly anyone left, even when the clock swept past noon and forty or fifty more still stood in line. All seemed to need to tell of the ones who had left them. At two o’clock, when everyone was hungry and tired, Bruce said, “I’m going to have to bring this to a close. One thing I wasn’t going to do today was anything traditionally churchy, including singing. But I feel we need to praise the Lord for what has happened here today. Let me teach you a simple chorus of adoration.”

  Bruce sang a brief song from Scripture, honoring God the Father, Jesus his Son, and the Holy Spirit. When the people joined in, quietly and reverently and heartfelt, Rayford was too choked up to sing. One by one people stopped singing and mouthed the words or hummed, they were so overcome. Rayford believed it was the most moving moment of his life. How he longed to share it with Irene and Raymie and Chloe.

  People seemed reluctant to leave, even after Bruce closed in prayer. Many stayed to get acquainted, and it became obvious a new congregation had begun. The name of the church was more appropriate than ever. New Hope. Bruce shook hands with people as they left, and no one ducked him or hurried past. When Rayford shook his hand, Bruce asked, “Are you busy this afternoon? Would you be able to join me for a bite?”

  “I’d want to call my daughter first, but sure.”

  Rayford let Chloe know where he’d be. She didn’t ask about the church meeting, except to say, “It went long, huh? Lot of people there?” And he simply told her yes on both counts. He was committed to not saying more unless she asked. He hoped and prayed her curiosity would get the best of her, and if he then could do justice to what had happened that day, maybe she would wish she’d been in on it. At the very least, she would have to recognize how it had affected him.

  At a small restaurant in nearby Arlington Heights, Bruce looked exhausted but happy. He told Rayford he felt such a mix of emotions he hardly knew what to make of them. “My grief over the loss of my family is still so raw I can hardly function. I still feel shame over my phoniness. And yet since I repented of my sins and truly received Christ, in just a few days he has blessed me beyond anything I could have imagined. My house is lonely and cold and carries painful memories. And yet look what happened today. I’ve been given this new flock to shepherd, a reason for living.”

  Rayford merely nodded. He sensed Bruce simply needed someone to talk to.

  “Ray,” Bruce said, “churches are usually built by seminary-trained pastors and elders who have been Christians most of their lives. We don’t have that luxury. I don’t know what kind of leadership model we’re going to have. It doesn’t make sense to have elders when the interim pastor, which is all I can call myself, is himself a brand-new Christian and so is everybody else. But we’re going to need a core of people who care about each other and are committed to the body. Loretta and a few of the people I met with the night of the Rapture are already part of that team, along with a couple of older men who were in the church for years but somehow missed the point as well.

  “I know this is very new to you, but I feel as if I should ask you to join our little core group. We will be at the church for the Sunday morning meeting, the occasional Sunday evening meeting, the Wednesday night Bible study, and we will meet at my home one other evening every week. That’s where we will pray for each other, keep each other accountable, and study a little deeper to stay ahead of the new congregation. Are you willing?”

  Rayford sat back. “Wow,” he said. “I don’t know. I’m so new at this.”

  “We all are.”

  “Yeah, but you were raised in it, Bruce. You know this stuff.”

  “I only missed the most important point.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what appeals to me about it. I’m hungry for knowledge of the Bible. And I need a friend.”

  “So do I,” Bruce said. “That’s the risk. We could wind up grating on each other.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk if you are,” Rayford said. “As long as I’m not expected to take any leadership role.”

  “Deal,” Barnes said, thrusting out his hand. Rayford shook it. Neither smiled. Rayford had the feeling this was the beginning of a relationship born of tragedy and need. He just hoped it worked out. When Rayford finally arrived home, Chloe was eager to hear all about it. She was amazed at what her father told her and said she was embarrassed to say she had not watched the DVD yet. “But I will now, Dad, before we go to Atlanta. You’re really into this, aren’t you? It sounds like something I want to check out, even if I don’t do anything about it.”

  Rayford had been home about twenty minutes and had changed into his pajamas and robe to relax for the rest of the evening when Chloe called out to him. “Dad, almost forgot. A Hattie Durham called for you several times. She sounded pretty agitated. Said she works with you.”

  “Y
eah,” Rayford said. “She wanted to be assigned to my next flight and I ducked her. She probably found out and wants to know why.”

  “Why did you duck her?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime.”

  Rayford was reaching for the phone when it rang. It was Bruce. “I forgot to confirm,” he said. “If you’ve agreed to be part of the core team, the first responsibility is tonight’s meeting with the disenchanted and the skeptics.”

  “You are going to be a tough taskmaster, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll understand if you weren’t planning on it.”

  “Bruce,” Rayford said, “except for heaven, there’s no place I’d rather be. I wouldn’t miss it. I might even be able to get Chloe to come to this one.”

  “What one?” Chloe asked when he hung up.

  “In a minute,” he said. “Let me call Hattie and calm the waters.”

  Rayford was surprised that Hattie said nothing about their flight assignments. “I just got some disconcerting news,” she said. “You remember that writer from Global Weekly who was on our flight, the one who had his computer hooked up to the in-flight sat phone?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “His name was Cameron Williams, and I talked to him by phone a couple of times since the flight. I tried calling him from the airport in New York last night but couldn’t get through.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I just heard on the news that he was killed in England in a car bombing.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m not. Isn’t that too bizarre? Rayford, sometimes I don’t know how much of this I can take. I hardly knew this guy, but I was so shocked I just broke down when I heard. I’m sorry to bother you with it, but I thought you might remember him.”

  “No, that’s all right, Hattie. And I know how overwhelming this is for you because it has been for me, too. I’ve got a lot to talk to you about, actually.”

  “You do?”

  “Could we get together sometime soon?”

  “I’ve put in to work one of your flights,” she said. “Maybe if that works out.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “And if it doesn’t, maybe you could come over for dinner with Chloe and me.”

  “I’d like that, Rayford. I really would.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Buck Williams sat near an exit at JFK Airport reading his own obituary. “Magazine Writer Assumed Dead,” the headline read.

  Cameron Williams, 30, the youngest senior writer on the staff of any weekly newsmagazine, is feared dead after a mysterious car bombing outside a London pub Saturday night that took the life of a Scotland Yard investigator.

  Williams, a five-year employee of Global Weekly, had won a Pulitzer as a reporter for the Boston Globe before joining the magazine as a staff reporter at 25. He quickly rose to the position of senior writer and has since written more than three dozen cover stories, four times assigned the Weekly’s Newsmaker of the Year story.

  The journalist won the prestigious Ernest Hemingway Prize for war correspondence when he chronicled the destruction of the Russian air force over Israel 14 months ago. According to Steve Plank, executive editor of Global Weekly, the administration of the magazine is refusing to confirm the report of Williams’s death “until we see hard evidence.”

  Williams’s father and a married brother reside in Tucson, where Williams lost his sister-in-law, niece, and nephew in last week’s disappearances.

  Scotland Yard reports that the London bombing appeared to be the work of Northern Ireland terrorists and might have been a case of retribution. Captain Howard Sullivan called his 29-year-old subordinate, victim Alan Tompkins, “one of the finest men and brightest investigators it has been my privilege to work with.”

  Sullivan added that Williams and Tompkins had become friends after the writer had interviewed the investigator for an article on terrorism in England several years ago. The two had just emerged from the Armitage Arms Pub in London when a bomb exploded in Tompkins’s Scotland Yard vehicle.

  Tompkins’s remains have been identified, though only items of personal identification of Williams were recovered from the scene.

  Rayford Steele had a plan. He had decided to be honest with Chloe about his attraction to Hattie Durham and how guilty he felt about it. He knew it would disappoint Chloe, even if it didn’t shock her. He intended to talk about his new desire to share his faith with Hattie, hoping he could make some progress with Chloe without her feeling threatened. Chloe had gone with him to the church meeting for skeptics the night before, as she promised. But she had left a little over halfway through. She also fulfilled her promise to watch the DVD the former pastor had recorded. They had discussed neither the meeting nor the DVD.

  They wouldn’t have much time together once they arrived at O’Hare, so Rayford broached the subject in the car as they gaped at the wreckage and debris lining the roadways. Between their house and the airport, they saw more than a dozen homes that had been gutted by fire. Rayford’s theory was that families had disappeared, leaving something on the stove.

  “And you think this was God’s doing?” Chloe said, not disrespectfully.

  “I do.”

  “I thought he was supposed to be a God of love and order,” she said.

  “I believe he is. This was his plan.”

  “There were plenty of tragedies and senseless deaths before this.”

  “I don’t understand all that either,” Rayford said. “But like Bruce said last night, we live in a fallen world. God left control of it pretty much to Satan.”

  “Oh, brother,” she said. “Do you wonder why I walked out?”

  “I figured it was because the questions and answers were hitting a little too close to home.”

  “Maybe they were, but all this stuff about Satan and the Fall and sin and all that . . .” She stopped and shook her head.

  “I don’t claim to understand it any better than you do, honey,” Rayford said. “But I know I’m a sinner and that this world is full of them.”

  “And you consider me one.”

  “If you’re part of everybody, then, yes, I do. Don’t you?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “You’re never selfish, greedy, jealous, petty, spiteful?”

  “I try not to be, at least not at anyone else’s expense.”

  “But you think you’re exempt from what the Bible says about everybody being a sinner, about there not being one righteous person anywhere, ‘No not one’?”

  “I don’t know, Daddy. I just have no idea.”

  “You know what I’m worried about, of course.”

  “Yeah, I know. You think the time is short, that in this new dangerous world I’m going to wait too long to decide what I’m going to do, and then it’ll be too late.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Chloe. I just hope you know I’m thinking only of you, nothing else.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Daddy.”

  “What did you think of the DVD? Did it make sense to you?”

  “It made a lot of sense if you buy into all that. I mean, you have to start with that as a foundation. Then it all works neatly. But if you’re not sure about God and the Bible and sin and heaven and hell, then you’re still wondering what happened and why.”

  “And that’s where you are?”

  “I don’t know where I am, Dad.”

  Rayford fought the urge to plead with her. If they had enough time over lunch in Atlanta, he would try the approach of telling her about Hattie. The plane was supposed to sit only about forty-five minutes before the return to O’Hare. Rayford wondered if it was fair to pray for a delay.

  “Nice cap,” Steve Plank said as he hurried into JFK and slapped Buck on the shoulder. “And what’s this? Two day’s growth?”

  “I was never too much for disguises,” Buck said.

  “You’re not famous enough to need to hide,” Steve said. “You staying away from your apartment for a while?”r />
  “Yeah, and probably yours. You sure you weren’t followed?”

  “You’re being a little paranoid, aren’t you, Buck?”

  “I have a right,” Buck said as they climbed into a cab. “Central Park,” he informed the driver. Then he told Steve the entire story.

  “What makes you think Carpathia is going to help?” Plank asked later as they walked through the park. “If the Yard and the exchange are behind this, and you think Carpathia is linked to Todd-Cothran and Stonagal, you might be asking Carpathia to turn against his own angels.”

  They strolled under a bridge to elude the hot spring sun. “I have a hunch about this guy,” Buck said, his voice echoing off the cobblestone walls. “It wouldn’t surprise me to discover that he met with Stonagal and Todd-Cothran in London the other day. But I have to believe he’s a pawn.”

  Steve pointed to a bench and they sat. “Well, I met Carpathia this morning at his press conference,” Steve said, “and all I can say is that I hope you’re right.”

  “Rosenzweig was impressed with him, and that’s one insightful old scientist.”

  “Carpathia’s impressive,” Steve conceded. “He’s handsome as a young heartthrob, and this morning he spoke in nine languages, so fluently you’d have thought each was his native tongue. The media is eating him up.”

  “You say that as if you’re not the media,” Buck said.

  Steve shrugged. “I’m proving my own point. I’ve learned to be a skeptic, to let People and the tabloids chase the personalities. But here’s a guy with substance, with a brain, with something to say. I liked him. I mean, I saw him only in a press conference setting, but he seems to have a plan. You’ll like him, and you’re a bigger skeptic than I am. Plus he wants to see you.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “I told you. He’s got a little entourage of nobodies, with one exception.”

  “Rosenzweig.”

  “Right.”