The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

“There might be nothing wrong with that, except that the Antichrist will be a great deceiver, and when his true goals are revealed, he will be opposed. This will result in a great war, probably World War III.”

  “How soon?”

  “I fear it will be very soon. We need to watch for the new world leader.”

  “What about the young man from Europe who is so popular with the United Nations?”

  “I’m impressed with him,” Bruce said. “I will have to be careful and study what he says and does. He seems too humble and self-effacing to fit the description of this one who would take over the world.”

  “But we’re ripe for someone to do just that,” one of the older men said. “I found myself wishing that guy was our president.” Several others agreed.

  “We need to keep an eye on him,” Bruce said. “But for now, let me just briefly outline the Seven-Sealed Scroll from Revelation five, and then I’ll let you go. On the one hand, I don’t want to give you a spirit of fear, but we all know we’re still here because we neglected salvation before the Rapture. I know we’re all grateful for the second chance, but we cannot expect to escape the trials that are coming.”

  Bruce explained that the first four seals in the scroll were described as men on four horses: a white horse, a red horse, a black horse, and a pale horse. “The white horseman apparently is the Antichrist, who ushers in one to three months of diplomacy while getting organized and promising peace.

  “The red horse signifies war. The Antichrist will be opposed by three rulers from the south, and millions will be killed.”

  “In World War III?”

  “That’s my assumption.”

  “That would mean within the next six months.”

  “I’m afraid so. And immediately following that, which will take only three to six months because of the nuclear weaponry available, the Bible predicts inflation and famine—the black horse. As the rich get richer, the poor starve to death. More millions will die that way.”

  “So if we survive the war, we need to stockpile food?”

  Bruce nodded. “I would.”

  “We should work together.”

  “Good idea, because it gets worse. That killer famine could be as short as two or three months before the arrival of the fourth Seal Judgment, the fourth horseman on the pale horse—the symbol of death. Besides the postwar famine, a plague will sweep the entire world. Before the fifth Seal Judgment, a quarter of the world’s current population will be dead.”

  “What’s the fifth Seal Judgment?”

  “Well,” Bruce said, “you’re going to recognize this one because we’ve talked about it before. Remember my telling you about the 144,000 Jewish witnesses who try to evangelize the world for Christ? Many of their converts, perhaps millions, will be martyred by the world leader and the harlot, which is the name for the one world religion that denies Christ.”

  Rayford was furiously taking notes. He wondered what he would have thought about such crazy talk just three weeks earlier. How could he have missed this? God had tried to warn his people by putting his Word in written form centuries before. For all Rayford’s education and intelligence, he felt he had been a fool. Now he couldn’t get enough of this information, though it was becoming clear that the odds were against a person living until the Glorious Appearing of Christ.

  “The sixth Seal Judgment,” Bruce continued, “is God pouring out his wrath against the killing of his saints. This will come in the form of a worldwide earthquake so devastating that no instruments would be able to measure it. It will be so bad that people will cry out for rocks to fall on them and put them out of their misery.” Several in the room began to weep. “The seventh seal introduces the seven Trumpet Judgments, which will take place in the second quarter of this seven-year period.”

  “The second twenty-one months,” Rayford clarified.

  “Right. I don’t want to get into those tonight, but I warn you they are progressively worse. I want to leave you with a little encouragement. You remember we talked briefly about the two witnesses, and I said I would study that more carefully? Revelation 11:3-14 makes it clear that God’s two special witnesses, with supernatural power to work miracles, will prophesy one thousand two hundred and sixty days, clothed in sackcloth. Anyone who tries to harm them will be devoured. No rain will fall during the time that they prophesy. They will be able to turn water to blood and to strike the earth with plagues whenever they want.

  “Satan will kill them at the end of three and a half years, and their bodies will lie in the street of the city where Christ was crucified. The people they have tormented will celebrate their deaths, not allowing their bodies to be buried. But after three and a half days, they will rise from the dead and ascend to heaven in a cloud while their enemies watch. God will send another great earthquake, a tenth of the city will fall, and seven thousand people will die. The rest will be terrified and give glory to God.”

  Rayford glanced around the office as people murmured among themselves. They had all seen it, the report of the two crazy men preaching about Jesus at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.

  “Is that them?” someone asked.

  “Who else could it be?” Bruce said. “It has not rained in Jerusalem since the disappearances. These men came out of nowhere. They have the miraculous power of saints like Elijah and Moses, and they call each other Eli and Moishe. At this moment, the men are still preaching.”

  “The witnesses.”

  “Yes, the witnesses. If any one of us still harbored any doubts or fears, not sure what has been going on, these witnesses should allay them all. I believe these witnesses will see hundreds of thousands of converts, the 144,000, who will preach Christ to the world. We’re on their side. We have to do our parts.”

  Buck reached Hattie Durham at her home number Tuesday night. “So, you’re coming through New York?” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, “and I’d love to see you and maybe get to meet a VIP.”

  “You mean other than me?”

  “Cute,” she said. “Have you met Nicolae Carpathia yet?”

  “Of course.”

  “I knew it! I was just telling someone the other day that I’d love to meet that man.”

  “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do. Where should we meet?”

  “My flight gets in there about eleven and I have a one o’clock appointment in the Pan-Con Club. But if we don’t get back in time for that, it’s OK. I don’t fly out till morning, and I didn’t even tell the guy I would meet him at one.”

  “Another guy?” Buck said. “You’ve got some weekend planned.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” she said. “It’s a pilot who wants to talk to me about something, and I’m not sure I even want to listen. If I’m back and have time, fine. But I haven’t committed to it. Why don’t we meet at the club and see where we want to go from there?”

  “I’ll try to arrange the meeting with Mr. Carpathia, probably at his hotel.”

  It was late Tuesday night when Chloe changed her mind and agreed to go to New York with her father. “I can see you’re not ready to be out without me,” she said, embracing him and smiling. “It’s nice to be needed.”

  “To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’m going to insist on a meeting with Hattie, and I want you there.”

  “For her protection or yours?”

  “Not funny. I’ve left her a message insisting that she see me in the Pan-Con Club at JFK at one in the afternoon. Whether she will or not, I don’t know. Either way, you and I will get some time together.”

  “Daddy, time together is all we’ve had. I’d think you’d be tired of me by now.”

  “That’ll never happen, Chloe.”

  Early Wednesday morning Buck was summoned to the office of Stanton Bailey, publisher of Global Weekly. In all his years of award-winning work, he had been in there only twice, once to celebrate his Hemingway war correspondence award and once on a Christmas tour of what the employees enviously called Mahogany
Row.

  Buck ducked in to see Steve first, only to be told by Marge that he was in with the publisher already. Her eyes were red and puffy. “What’s happening?” he said.

  “You know I can’t say anything,” she said. “Just get in there.”

  Buck’s imagination ran wild as he entered the suite of offices inhabited by the brass. He hadn’t known Plank had been summoned, too. What could it mean? Were they in trouble for the shenanigans they had pulled Monday night? Had Mr. Bailey somehow found out the details of the London business and how Buck had escaped? And he certainly hoped this meeting would be over in time for his appointment with Hattie Durham.

  Bailey’s receptionist pointed him to the publisher’s outer office, where his secretary raised one brow and waved him in. “You’re not going to announce me?” he joked. She smirked and returned to her work.

  Buck knocked quietly and carefully pushed open the door. Plank sat with his back to Buck and didn’t turn. Bailey didn’t rise but beckoned him in. “Sit right there next to your boss,” Bailey said, which Buck thought an interesting choice of words. Of course, it was true, but that was not how Steve was usually addressed.

  Buck sat and said, “Steve.”

  Steve nodded but kept looking at Bailey.

  “Couple of things, Williams,” Bailey began, “before I get down to business. You’re cleared of everything overseas, right?”

  Buck nodded. “Yes, sir. There should never have been any doubt.”

  “Well, ’course there shouldn’t, but you were lucky. I guess it was smart to make it look like whoever was after you got you, but you made us think that for a while too, you know.”

  “Sorry. I’m afraid that was unavoidable.”

  “And you wound up giving them ammunition to use against you if they wanted to bust you for some reason.”

  “I know. That surprised me.”

  “But you got it taken care of.”

  “Right.”

  “How?”

  “Sir?”

  “What part of ‘how’ don’t you understand? How did you extricate yourself? We got word there were witnesses who say you did it.”

  “There must have been enough others who knew the truth. Tompkins was a friend of mine. I had no reason to kill him, and I sure didn’t have the means. I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to make a bomb or transport it or detonate it.”

  “You could have paid to have it done.”

  “But I didn’t. I don’t run in those circles, and if I did, I wouldn’t have had Alan killed.”

  “Well, the news coverage is all vague enough that none of us look bad. Just looks like a misunderstanding.”

  “Which it was.”

  “Of course it was. Cameron, I asked to see you this morning because I have just accepted one of the least welcome resignations I have ever received.”

  Buck sat silent, his head spinning.

  “Steve here tells me this will be news to you, so let me just drop it on you. He is resigning immediately to accept the position of international press secretary to Nicolae Carpathia. He’s received an offer we can’t come close to, and while I don’t think it’s wise or a good fit, he does, and it’s his life. What do you think about that?”

  Buck couldn’t contain himself. “I think it stinks. Steve, what are you thinking of? You’re going to move to Romania?”

  “I’ll be headquartered here, Buck. At the Plaza.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re not a PR guy.”

  “Carpathia is no ordinary political leader. Tell me you weren’t on your feet cheering Monday.”

  “I was, but—”

  “But nothing. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Nothing else would have lured me from this job.”

  Buck shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I knew Carpathia was looking for somebody, but—”

  Steve laughed. “Tell the truth, Buck. He offered it to you first, didn’t he?”

  “No.”

  “He as much as told me he did.”

  “Well, he didn’t. Matter of fact, I recommended Miller from Seaboard.”

  Plank recoiled and shot a glance at Bailey. “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not? He’s more the type.”

  “Buck,” Steve said, “Eric Miller’s body washed up on Staten Island last night. He fell off the ferry and drowned.”

  “Well,” Bailey said summarily, “enough of that ugly business. Steve has recommended you to replace him.”

  Buck was still reeling from the news about Miller, but he heard the offer. “Oh, please,” he said, “you’re not serious.”

  “You wouldn’t want the job?” Bailey asked. “Shape the magazine, determine the coverage, still write the top stories yourself? Sure you would. By policy it would almost double your salary, and if that’s what it took to get you to agree, I’d guarantee it.”

  “That’s not it,” Buck said. “I’m too young for the job I’ve got now.”

  “You don’t believe that or you wouldn’t be as good at it as you are.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the sentiment of the staff.”

  “What else is new?” Bailey roared. “They think I’m too old. They thought Steve was too laid-back. Others thought he was too pushy. They’d complain if we brought in the pope himself.”

  “I thought he was missing.”

  “You know what I mean. Now how about it?”

  “I could never replace Steve, sir. I’m sorry. People may have complained, but they knew he was fair and in their corner.”

  “And so would you be.”

  “But they’d never give me the benefit of the doubt. They’d be in here undermining me and complaining from day one.”

  “I wouldn’t allow it. Now, Buck, this offer isn’t going to sit on the table indefinitely. I want you to take it, and I want to be able to announce it immediately.”

  Buck shrugged and looked at the floor. “Can I have a day to think about it?”

  “Twenty-four hours. Meantime, don’t say a word to anybody. Plank, anybody else know about you?”

  “Only Marge.”

  “We can trust her. She’ll never tell a soul. I had a three-year affair with her and never worried about anybody finding out.”

  Steve and Buck flinched.

  “Well,” Bailey said, “you never knew, did you?”

  “No,” they said in unison.

  “See how tight-lipped she is?” He waited a beat. “I’m kidding, boys. I’m kidding!”

  He was still laughing as they left the office.

  CHAPTER 18

  Buck followed Steve to his office. “Did you hear about those kooks at the Wailing Wall?” Steve said.

  “Like I’m interested in that right now,” Buck said. “Yeah, I saw them, and no, I don’t want to cover that story. Now what is this?”

  “This will be your office, Buck. Marge will be your secretary.”

  “You can’t possibly think I would want your job. First off, we can’t afford to lose you. You’re the only sane person here.”

  “Including you?”

  “Especially including me. You must have really run interference for me with Bailey if he thinks I would be anything but a powder keg in your job.”

  “Your job.”

  “You think I should take it.”

  “You bet I do. I suggested no one else and Bailey had no other candidates.”

  “He’d have all the candidates he wanted if he just announced the opening. Who wouldn’t want this job, besides me?”

  “If it’s such a plum, why don’t you want it?”

  “I’d feel as if I were sitting in your chair.”

  “So order your own chair.”

  “You know what I mean, Steve. It won’t be the same without you. This job isn’t me.”

  “Look at it this way, Buck. If you don’t take it, you have no say in who becomes your new boss. Anybody on this staff you want to work for?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah, you.”

  “Too late. I’m gone tomorrow. Now seriously, you want to work for Juan?”

  “You wouldn’t recommend him.”

  “I’m not going to recommend anybody but you. You don’t take it, you’re on your own. You take your chances you’ll wind up working for a colleague who already resents you. How many hot assignments you think you’ll get then?”

  “If I got dumped on, I’d threaten to go to Time or somewhere. Bailey wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “You turn down a promotion, he might make it happen. Rejecting advancement is not a good career move.”

  “I just want to write.”

  “Tell me you haven’t thought you could run this editorial department better than I do at times.”

  “A lot of times.”

  “Here’s your chance.”

  “Bailey would never stand for my assigning myself all the best stuff.”

  “Make that a condition of your acceptance. If he doesn’t like it, it’s his decision, not yours.”

  For the first time, Buck allowed a sliver of light to enter his head about the possibility of taking the executive editor job. “I still can’t believe you’d leave to become a press secretary, Steve. Even for Nicolae Carpathia.”

  “Do you know what’s in store for him, Buck?”

  “A little.”

  “There’s a sea of power and influence and money behind him that will propel him to world prominence so quick it’ll make everyone’s head spin.”

  “Listen to yourself. You’re supposed to be a journalist.”

  “I hear myself, Buck. I wouldn’t feel this way about anybody else. No U.S. president could turn my head like this, no U.N. secretary-general.”

  “You think he’ll be bigger than that.”

  “The world is ready for Carpathia, Buck. You were there Monday. You saw it. You heard it. Have you ever met anyone like him?”

  “No.”

  “You never will again, either. If you ask me, Romania is too small for him. Europe is too small for him. The U.N. is too small for him.”

  “What’s he gonna be, Steve, king of the world?”

  Steve laughed. “That won’t be the title, but don’t put it past him. The best part is, he’s not even aware of his own presence. He doesn’t seek these roles. They are thrust upon him because of his intellect, his power, his passion.”