Soul Harvest

by Tim LaHaye

  Tsion shook his head. “How sad to die this way. But now they are reunited with their child.”

  “What do you think I ought to do about the briefcase?” Buck asked.

  “Do about it?”

  “Donny must have something very important in there. I saw him with it constantly. But I don’t know the combinations. Should I leave it alone?”

  Tsion seemed in deep thought. Finally he said, “At a time like this you must decide if there is something in there that might further the cause of Christ. The young man would want you to have access to it. Should you break into it and find only personal things, it would be only right to maintain his privacy.”

  Tsion and Buck clambered out of the Rover. As soon as they had tossed their tools over the wall and climbed over, Tsion said, “Buck! Where is Chloe’s car?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Rayford could not swear to the credibility of Mac McCullum. All he knew was that the freckled, twice-divorced man had just turned fifty and had never had kids. He was a careful and able aviator, facile with various types of aircraft, having flown both militarily and commercially.

  Mac had proved a friendly, interested listener, earthy in expression. They had not known each other long enough for Rayford to expect him to be more forthcoming. Though he seemed a bright and engaging guy, their limited relationship had involved only surface cordiality. Mac knew Rayford was a believer; Rayford hid that from no one. But Mac had never shown the slightest interest in the matter. Until now.

  Paramount in Rayford’s mind was what not to say. Mac had finally expressed frustration over Carpathia, going so far as to allow that he was “up to no good.” But what if Mac was a subversive, working for Carpathia as more than a pilot? What a way to entrap Rayford. Dare he both share his faith with Mac and reveal all that he and the Tribulation Force knew about Carpathia? And what of the bugging device built into the Condor 216? Even if Mac expressed an interest in Christ, Rayford would keep that volatile secret until he was sure Mac was not a fake.

  Mac turned off everything on the chopper except auxiliary power that kept the control panel lights and radio on. All Rayford could see across the expanse of inky desert was moon and stars. If he hadn’t known better, he might have been persuaded that the little craft was drifting along on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean.

  “Mac,” Rayford said, “tell me about the shelter. What does it look like? And how did Carpathia know he needed it?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac said. “Maybe it was a security blanket in case one or more of his ambassadors turned on him again. It’s deep, it’s concrete, and it’ll protect him from radiation. And I’ll tell you one more thing: It’s plenty big enough for the 216.”

  Rayford was dumbfounded. “The 216? I left that at the end of the long runway in New Babylon.”

  “And I was assigned to move it early this morning.”

  “Move it where?”

  “Didn’t you ask me just the other day about that new utility road Carpathia had built?”

  “That single-lane thing that seemed to lead only to the fence at the edge of the airstrip?”

  “Yeah. Well, now there’s a gate in the fence where that road ends.”

  “So you open the gate,” Rayford said, “and you go where, across desert sand, right?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Mac said. “But a huge expanse of that sand has been treated with something. Wouldn’t you think a craft as big as the 216 would sink in the sand if it ever got that far?”

  “You’re telling me you taxied the 216 down that little utility road to a gate in the fence? How big must that gate be?”

  “Only big enough for the fuselage. The wings are higher than the fence.”

  “So you ferried the Condor off the airstrip and across the sand to where?”

  “Three and a half clicks northeast of headquarters, just like Carpathia said.”

  “So this shelter isn’t in a populated area.”

  “Nope. I doubt anyone’s ever seen it without Carpathia’s knowledge. It’s huge, Ray. And it must have taken ages to build. I could have fit two aircraft that size in there and only half filled the space. It’s about thirty feet below ground with plenty of supplies, plumbing, lodging, cooking areas, you name it.”

  “How does something underground withstand the shifting of the earth?”

  “Part genius, part luck, I guess,” Mac said. “The whole thing floats, suspended on some sort of a membrane filled with hydraulic fluid and sitting on a platform of springs that serve as mammoth shock absorbers.”

  “So the rest of New Babylon is in ruins, but the Condor and Carpathia’s little hideout, or I should say big hideout, escaped damage?”

  “That’s where the ingenious part comes in, Ray. The place was rocked pretty good, but the technology delivered. The one eventuality they couldn’t escape, even though they predicted it, was that the main entrance, the huge opening that allowed the plane to easily slip in there, was completely covered over with rock and sand by the quake. They were able to shelter a couple of other smaller openings on the other side to maintain passage, and Carpathia already has earthmovers reopening the original entrance. They’re working on it right now.”

  “So, what, he’s looking to go somewhere? Can’t stand the heat?”

  “No, not at all. He’s expecting company.”

  “His kings are on their way?”

  “He calls them ambassadors. He and Fortunato have big plans.”

  Rayford shook his head. “Fortunato! I saw him in Carpathia’s office when the earthquake started. How’d he survive?”

  “I was as surprised as you, Ray. Unless I missed him, I didn’t see him come out that door on the roof. I figured the only people with a prayer of surviving the collapse of that place were the few who were on the roof when the thing went down. That’s more than a sixty-foot drop with concrete crashing all around you, so even that’s a long shot. But I’ve heard stranger. I read about a guy in Korea who was on top of a hotel that collapsed, and he said he felt like he was surfing on a concrete slab unt7il he hit the ground and rolled and wound up with only a broken arm.”

  “So what’s the story? How did Fortunato get out?”

  “You’re not going to believe it.”

  “I’d believe anything at this point.”

  “Here’s the story the way I saw it. I take Carpathia back to the shelter, and I put her down near the entrance where I had parked the Condor. It was totally covered over, like I say, so Carpathia directs me around to the side where there’s a smaller opening. We go in and find a big staff of people working, almost as if nothing’s happened. I mean, there’s people cooking, cleaning, setting up, all that.”

  “Carpathia’s secretary?”

  Mac shook his head. “I guess she was killed in the building collapse, along with most of the other headquarters staff. But he’s got her and all the rest of ’em replaced already.”

  “Unbelievable. And Fortunato?”

  “He wasn’t there either. Somebody tells Carpathia there were no survivors at headquarters, and I swear, Ray, it looked to me like Carpathia paled. It was the first time I’ve ever seen him rattled, except when he pretends to go into a rage about something. I think those are always planned.”

  “Me too. So what about Leon?”

  “Carpathia recovers real quick and says, ‘We’ll just see about that.’ He says he’ll be right back, and I ask him can I take him somewhere. He says no and leaves. When was the last time you saw him go anywhere by himself?”

  “Never.”

  “Bingo. He’s gone about half an hour, and the next thing you know he’s back and he’s got Fortunato with him. Fortunato was covered with dust from his head to his feet, and his suit was a mess. But his shirt was tucked in and his coat buttoned up, tie straightened and everything. There wasn’t a scratch on him.”

  “What was his story?”

  “It gave me chills, Ray. A bunch of people gathered around, I’d say about a h
undred. Fortunato, real emotional, calls for order. Then he claims he went crying and screaming down in the rubble along with everybody else. He said halfway down he was wondering if it was possible to get lucky enough to be wedged in somewhere where he could breathe and stay alive until rescuers might find him. He said he felt himself free-falling and smacking into huge chunks of building; then something caught his feet and flipped him so he was going straight down, headfirst. When he hit, he said, it felt and sounded like he’d cracked his head open. Then it was like the whole weight of the building came down on him. He felt his bones breaking and his lungs bursting and everything went black. He said it was like somebody pulled the plug on his life. He believes he died.”

  “And yet there he is, wearing a dusty suit and not a scratch on him?”

  “I saw him with my own eyes, Ray. He claims he was lying there dead, not conscious of anything, no out-of-body experience or anything like that. Just black nothingness, like the deepest sleep a person could ever have. He says he woke up, came back from the dead, when he heard his name called. At first he thought he was dreaming, he says. He thought he was a little boy again and his mother was softly calling his name, trying to rouse him. But then, he says, he heard Nicolae’s loud call, ‘Leonardo, come forth!’”

  “What?”

  “I’m tellin’ you, Ray, it gave me the willies. I was never that religious, but I know that story from the Bible, and it sure sounded like Nicolae was pretending to be Jesus or something.”

  “You think the story’s a lie?” Rayford asked. “You know, the Bible also says it’s appointed unto man once to die. No second chances.”

  “I didn’t know that, and I didn’t know what to think when he told that story. Carpathia bringing somebody back from the dead? You know, at first I loved Carpathia and couldn’t wait to work for him. There were times I thought he was a godly man, maybe some kind of deity himself. But it didn’t add up. Him making me take off from the top of that building while people were hanging onto the struts and screaming for their lives. Him putting you down because you wanted to help that crash survivor in the desert. What kind of a god-man is that?”

  “He’s no god-man,” Rayford said. “He’s an anti-god-man.”

  “You think he’s the Antichrist, like some say?”

  So there it was. Mac had put the question to him. Rayford knew he had been reckless. Had he now sealed his own fate? Had he revealed himself completely to one of Carpathia’s own henchmen, or was Mac sincere? How could he ever know for sure?

  Buck spun in a circle. Where was Chloe’s car? She always parked it in the driveway in front of the garage that contained Loretta’s junk. Loretta’s own car was usually in the other stall. It wouldn’t have made sense for Chloe to move her car into Loretta’s stall just because Loretta had driven to the church. “It could have been tossed anywhere, Tsion,” Buck said.

  “Yes, my friend, but not so far away that we could not see it.”

  “It could have been swallowed up.”

  “We should look, Cameron. If her car is here, we can assume she is here.”

  Buck moved up and down the street, looking between wrecked houses and into great holes in the earth. Nothing resembling Chloe’s car turned up anywhere. When he met Tsion back at what used to be Loretta’s garage, the rabbi was trembling. Though only in his middle forties, Tsion suddenly looked old to Buck. He moved with a shaky gait and stumbled, dropping to his knees.

  “Tsion, are you all right?”

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Tsion said, his voice just above a whisper. “I have seen devastation and waste, but this is overwhelming. Such widespread death and destruction . . .”

  Buck put his hand on the man’s shoulder and felt sobs wrack his body. “Tsion, we must not allow the enormity of all this to penetrate our minds. I have to somehow keep it separated from myself. I know it’s not a dream. I know exactly what we’re going through, but I can’t dwell on it. I’m not equipped. If I allow it to overwhelm me, I’ll be good to no one. We need each other. Let’s be strong.” Buck realized his own voice was weak as he pleaded with Tsion to be strong.

  “Yes,” Tsion said tearfully, trying to collect himself. “The glory of the Lord must be our rear guard. We will rejoice in the Lord always, and he will lift us up.”

  With that, Tsion rose and grabbed a shovel. Before Buck could catch up, Tsion began digging at the base of the garage.

  The helicopter’s radio crackled to life, giving Rayford time to search himself, to think and silently pray that God would keep him from saying something stupid. He still didn’t know whether Amanda was dead or alive. He didn’t know whether Chloe, or Buck, or Tsion were still on earth or in heaven. Finding them, reuniting with them was his top priority. Was he now risking everything?

  The dispatcher at the shelter requested Mac’s ten-twenty.

  Mac glanced ruefully at Rayford. “Better make it sound like we’re in the air,” he said, cranking the engines. The noise was deafening. “Still workin’ rescue at Baghdad,” he said. “Be at least another hour.”

  “Roger that.”

  Mac shut the chopper down. “Bought us some time,” he said.

  Rayford covered his eyes briefly. “God,” he prayed silently, “all I can do is trust you and follow my instincts. I believe this man is sincere. If he’s not, keep me from saying anything I shouldn’t. If he is sincere, I don’t want to keep from telling him what he needs to know. You’ve been so overt, so clear with Buck and Tsion. Couldn’t you give me a sign? Anything that would assure me I’m doing the right thing?”

  Rayford looked uncertainly into Mac’s eyes, dimly illuminated by the glow from the control panel. For the moment, God seemed silent. He had not made a habit of speaking directly to Rayford, though Rayford had enjoyed his share of answers to prayer. There was no turning back now. While he sensed no divine green light, neither did he sense a red or even a yellow. Knowing the outcome could be a result of his own foolishness, he realized he had nothing to lose.

  “Mac, I’m gonna tell you my whole story and everything I feel about what’s happened, about Nicolae, and about what is to come. But before I do, I need you to tell me what Carpathia knows, if you know, about whether Hattie or Amanda were really expected in Baghdad tonight.”

  Mac sighed and looked away, and Rayford’s heart fell. Clearly he was about to hear something he’d rather not hear.

  “Well, Ray, the truth is Carpathia knows Hattie is still in the States. She got as far as Boston, but his sources tell him she boarded a nonstop to Denver before the earthquake hit.”

  “To Denver? I thought that’s where she had come from.”

  “It was. That’s where her family is. Nobody knows why she went back.”

  Rayford’s voice caught in his throat. “And Amanda?”

  “Carpathia’s people tell him she was on a Pan-Con heavy out of Boston that should have been on the ground in Baghdad before the quake hit. It had lost a little time over the Atlantic for some reason, but the last he knew, it was in Iraqi airspace.”

  Rayford dropped his head and fought for composure. “So, it’s underground somewhere,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I have seen it at the airport?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac said. “Maybe it was completely swallowed by the desert. But all the other planes monitored by Baghdad tower have been accounted for, so that doesn’t seem likely.”

  “There’s still hope then,” Rayford said. “Maybe that pilot was far enough behind schedule that he was still in the air and just stayed there until everything stopped moving and he could find a spot to put down.”

  “Maybe,” Mac said, but Rayford detected flatness in his voice. Clearly, Mac was dubious.

  “I won’t stop looking until I know.” Mac nodded, and Rayford sensed something more. “Mac, what are you not telling me?” Mac looked down and shook his head. “Listen to me, Mac. I’ve already hinted what I think of Carpathia. That’s a huge risk for me. I don’t know where your true loyalties lie
, and I’m about to tell you more than I should tell anyone that I wouldn’t trust with my life. If you know something about Amanda that I need to know, you’ve got to tell me.”

  Mac drew a hesitant breath. “You really don’t want to know. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Probably,” he said. “I honestly don’t know that, and I don’t think Carpathia does either. But this is worse than that, Rayford. This is worse than her being dead.”

  Getting into the garage at the wreckage of Loretta’s home seemed impossible even for two grown men. It had been attached to the house and somehow appeared the least damaged. There was no basement under the garage area, thus not far for its cement slab and foundation to go. When the roof had fallen in, the sectioned doors had been so heavily compressed that their panels had overlapped by several inches. One door was angled at least two feet off track, pointing to the right. The other was off track about half that much and pointed in the other direction. There was no budging them. All Buck and Tsion could do was start hacking through them. In their normal state, the wood doors might easily have been cracked through, but now they sat with a huge section of roof and eaves jamming them awkwardly down to concrete, which rested two feet below the surface.

  To Buck, every whack at the wood with his ax felt as if he were crashing steel against steel. With both hands at the bottom of the handle and swinging with all his might, the best he could do was chip tiny pieces with each blow. This was a quality door, made only more solid by the crush of nature.