The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books

by Tim LaHaye

  “What’s up? You sick?”

  “I’m fine. Did you want something?”

  “Um, yeah, I kind of wanted to see you tonight.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Well, yeah, I mean I do. Can I?”

  “I’ll be seeing you at the meeting at eight, right?” she said.

  “Yeah, but I was wondering if you’d have a little time before that.”

  “I don’t know. What did you want?”

  “Just to talk with you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Chloe, is something wrong? Am I missing something? You seem upset.”

  “The flowers are in the trash, if that’s any hint,” she said.

  The flowers are in the trash, he repeated in his mind. That was an expression he hadn’t heard. It must mean something to someone from her generation. He might be a famous writer, but he had sure missed that one.

  “I’m sorry?” he said.

  “It’s a little too late for that,” she said.

  “I mean, I’m sorry—I missed what you were saying.”

  “You didn’t hear me?”

  “I heard you, but I don’t get your meaning.”

  “What about ‘the flowers are in the trash’ do you not understand?”

  Buck had been a little distant from her Friday night, but what was this? Well, she was worth the work. “Let’s start with the flowers,” he said.

  “Yes, let’s,” she said.

  “What flowers are we talking about?”

  Rayford motioned with both hands for Chloe to take it easy. He was afraid she was going to blow, and whatever was going on, she sure wasn’t giving Buck an inch. If there was any truth to what Chloe was alleging, she wasn’t going to help restore him this way. Maybe Buck hadn’t thrown off all the trappings of his former life. Maybe there were some areas that would have to be dealt with forthrightly. But wasn’t that true of all four of them in the Tribulation Force?

  “I’ll see you tonight, OK?” Chloe concluded. “No, not before the meeting. I don’t know if I’ll have time afterward or not. . . . Well, it depends on what time we get out, I guess. . . . Yes, he said eight to ten, but, Buck, do you get it that I don’t really want to talk to you right now? And I don’t know if I’ll want to talk later. . . . Yes, see you then.”

  She hung up. “Ooh, that man is persistent! I’m seeing a side of him I never imagined.”

  “Still wish something would develop?” Rayford said.

  She shook her head. “Whatever was there has been snuffed out now.”

  “But it still hurts.”

  “It sure does. I just didn’t realize how much I was getting my hopes up.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  She sank to the couch and rested her face in her hands. “Dad, I know we didn’t owe each other anything, but don’t you think he and I talked enough and connected enough that I should have known if there was someone in his life?”

  “Seems like it, yes.”

  “Did I just totally misread him? Does he think it’s OK to say he’s attracted to me without telling me he’s unavailable?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  Rayford didn’t know what else to say. If there was anything to what Chloe was saying, he was beginning to lose respect for Buck too. He seemed like such a good guy. Rayford only hoped they could help him.

  Buck was wounded. He still longed to see Chloe, but it was not the idealistic dream he had imagined. He had done something or not done something, and it was going to take more than a little apology over mixed signals to get to the bottom of it.

  The flowers are in the trash, he thought. Whatever in the world that meant.

  CHAPTER 8

  Buck’s condo door nudged a stack of boxes when he entered. He’d have to send Alice a thank-you note. He only wished he had time to start arranging his home office, but he had to get going if he hoped to catch Chloe before the meeting.

  He arrived at New Hope about half an hour early and saw Rayford’s car parked next to Bruce’s. Good, he thought, everybody’s here. He glanced at his watch. Had he forgotten the time change? Was he late? He hurried into the office and knocked on Bruce’s door as he stepped in. Bruce and Rayford looked up awkwardly. It was just the two of them.

  “I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little early.”

  “Yeah, Buck,” Bruce said. “We’ll be a little while and we’ll see you at eight, all right?”

  “Sure. I’ll just talk with Chloe. She here?”

  “She’ll be along a little later,” Rayford said.

  “OK, I’ll just wait for her out here.”

  “Well, first of all,” Bruce told Rayford, “congratulations. Regardless of what you decide to do, that is a fantastic honor and an accomplishment. I can’t imagine many pilots turning down that offer.”

  Rayford sat back. “Truthfully, I haven’t spent much time thinking of it that way. I guess I should be grateful.”

  Bruce nodded. “I guess you should. Did you want advice, or just an ear? Obviously, I’ll pray with you about it.”

  “I’m open to advice.”

  “Well, I feel so inadequate, Rayford. I appreciate that you want to stay here in Chicago, but you also have to consider whether this opportunity is from God. I want to stay around here too, but I feel him leading me to travel, to start more small groups, to visit Israel. I know you’re not staying here just for me, but—”

  “That’s part of it, Bruce.”

  “And I appreciate that, but who knows how long I’ll be here?”

  “We need you, Bruce. I think it’s clear God has you here for a reason.”

  “I suppose Chloe told you that I’m looking for more teachers.”

  “She did. And she’s excited about it. And I’m willing to learn.”

  “Normally a church wouldn’t put brand-new believers in the positions of leaders or teachers, but there’s no alternative now. I’m virtually a new believer myself. I know you’d make a good teacher, Rayford. The problem is, I can’t shake the thought that this opportunity with the president is a unique one you should seriously consider. Imagine the impact you might have on the president of the United States.”

  “Oh, I don’t think the president and his pilot interact much, if at all.”

  “He doesn’t interview a new pilot?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You’d think he’d want to get to know the man who has his life in his hands every time that plane leaves the ground.”

  “I’m sure he trusts the people who make that decision.”

  “But surely there will be occasions when you might interact.”

  Rayford shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “President Fitzhugh, strong and independent as he is, must be as personally frightened and searching as any private citizen. Think of the privilege of telling the leader of the free world about Christ.”

  “And losing my job over it,” Rayford said.

  “You’d have to pick your spots, of course. But the president lost several relatives in the Rapture. What was it he said when asked what he made of it? Something about being sure it wasn’t God’s doing, because he had always believed in God.”

  “You’re talking about this as if I’m naturally going to take the job.”

  “Rayford, I can’t make your decisions for you, but I need you to remember: Your loyalty now is not to this church or to the Tribulation Force or to me. Your loyalty is to Christ. If you decide not to pursue this opportunity, you had better be dead sure it’s not of God.”

  It was just like Bruce, Rayford thought, to put a whole new spin on this. “Do you think I should say anything to Chloe or Buck?”

  “We’re all in this together,” Bruce said.

  “Meanwhile,” Rayford said, “let me bounce something else off you. How do you feel about romance during this point of history?”

  Bruce suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Good question,” he said. “Frankly, I know why you’re asking.” Rayford doubted that. “I k
now the loneliness you must feel. At least you have Chloe for companionship, but you must have that same aching emptiness that I feel after losing my wife. I’ve thought about whether I’m to go on alone through the next seven or so years. I don’t like the prospect, but I know I’ll be busy. To be very transparent with you, I suppose I harbor some hope that God might bring someone into my life. Right now is too soon, of course. I’ll grieve and mourn my wife for a long time, as if she were dead. I know she’s in heaven, but she’s dead to me. There are days when I feel so alone I can hardly breathe.”

  This was as self-revelatory as Bruce had been since telling his own story of having missed the Rapture, and Rayford was stunned that he had been the one to instigate it. He had merely been asking for Chloe’s sake. She had become enamored of Buck, and if that wasn’t going to work out, should she put herself in a situation where someone else might come along, or was that inappropriate, given the few years left before Christ’s return again?

  “I’m just curious about the logistics,” Rayford explained. “If two people fell in love, what should they do about it? Does the Bible say anything about marriage during this period?”

  “Not specifically,” Bruce said, “as far as I can tell. But it doesn’t prohibit it, either.”

  “And kids? Would it be prudent for a couple to bring children in this world now?”

  “I haven’t thought about that,” Bruce said. “Would you want another child at your age?”

  “Bruce! I’m not looking to marry again. I’m thinking of Chloe. I’m not saying she has any prospects, but if she did . . .”

  Bruce squeaked back in his chair. “Imagine having a baby now,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to think about junior high school, let alone high school or college. You would be raising that child, preparing him or her for the return of Christ in just a few years.”

  “You’d also be guaranteeing a child a life of fear and danger and a 75 percent chance of dying during the judgments to come.”

  Bruce rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the desk. “True enough,” he said. “I’d have to advise a lot of caution, prayer, and soul-searching before considering that.”

  Buck had never been good at waiting. He browsed the shelves of the sitting area outside Bruce’s office. Apparently this was where the former pastor had stored his less frequently used reference works. There appeared to be dozens of books on esoteric Old Testament themes. Buck leafed through a few of them, finding them dry.

  Then he came across a church photo directory dated two years earlier. There, under the B’s, was a picture of a younger, longer-haired Bruce Barnes. He looked a bit fuller in the face, wore a pasted-on smile, and surrounding him were his wife and children. What a treasure Bruce had lost! His wife was pleasant looking and plump, with a weary but genuine smile.

  On the next page was Dr. Vernon Billings, the now-departed senior pastor. He looked at least in his mid-sixties and was shown with his petite wife and three children and their respective spouses. Bruce had already said that the entire family had been raptured. Pastor Billings had a Henry Fonda-ish quality, with deep crow’s feet and a crinkly smile. He looked like a man Buck would have enjoyed knowing.

  Buck flipped to the other end of the directory and found the Steeles. There was Rayford in his pilot’s uniform, looking pretty much the same as he did today with perhaps slightly less gray in the hair and a little more definition in his face. And Irene. It was the first picture of her he had seen. She looked bright and cheery, and if you could believe the faddish study of photo-psychology, she appeared more devoted to her husband than he did to her. Her body leaned toward him. He sat rigid, straight up.

  Also in the picture was Rayford Junior, identified in the caption as “Raymie, 10.” He and his mother had asterisks by their names. Rayford did not. And neither did Chloe, who was listed as “18, Freshman, Stanford University, Palo Alto, California (not pictured).”

  Buck flipped to the legend, which explained that an asterisk indicated a church member. The rest, he assumed, were mere attenders.

  Buck looked at his watch. Ten to eight. He peered out the window to the parking lot. The Steeles’ second car was there, next to Rayford’s and Buck’s and Bruce’s. He put his hand on the glass to cut the glare and could make out Chloe behind the wheel. Ten minutes was hardly enough time to talk, but he could at least greet her and walk her inside.

  As soon as Buck stepped out the door, Chloe emerged from the car and hurried toward the church. “Hey!” he said.

  “Hello, Buck,” she said, clearly without enthusiasm.

  “Flowers still in the trash?” he tried, hoping for some clue to what was up with her.

  “As a matter of fact they are,” she said, brushing past him and opening the door herself. He followed her up the stairs, through the foyer, and into the offices.

  “I don’t think they’re ready for us yet,” he said, as she went directly to Bruce’s door and knocked.

  Apparently Bruce told her the same thing, and she backed out with an apology. Obviously Chloe would rather be anywhere but there and looking at anything but him. She had been crying, and her face was red and blotchy. He ached to reconnect with her. Something told him this was not just a mood, a part of her personality he would have to get used to. Something specific was plainly wrong, and Buck was in the middle of it. There was nothing he would rather do right then than get to the bottom of it. But that would have to wait.

  Chloe sat with her arms and legs crossed, her top leg swinging.

  “Look what I found,” Buck said, thrusting the old church directory under her nose. She didn’t even reach for it.

  “Um-hm,” she said.

  Buck opened it to the Bs and showed her Bruce’s and Dr. Billings’s families. Suddenly she softened, took the directory, and studied it. “Bruce’s wife,” she said softly. “And look at those children!”

  “Your family is in there too,” Buck said.

  Chloe took her time getting to the Ss, studying page after page of pictures as if looking for anyone else she recognized. “Went to high school with him,” she said idly. “She and I were in the same fourth grade. Mrs. Schultz was my freshman P.E. teacher.”

  When she finally got to her own family she was overcome. Her face contorted and she stared, the tears coming. “Raymie when he was ten,” she managed. Buck instinctively put a hand on her shoulder, and she stiffened. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Sorry,” he said, and the office door opened.

  “Ready,” Rayford said. He noticed that Buck looked sheepish and Chloe looked terrible. He hoped she hadn’t started in on him already.

  “Daddy, look,” she said, standing and handing him the directory.

  Rayford’s throat tightened and he sucked in a huge breath when he saw the photo. He sighed painfully. It was almost too much to take.

  He closed the directory and handed it to Buck, but at the same time he heard Bruce’s chair squeak. “What’re you guys looking at?”

  “Just this,” Buck said, showing him the cover and trying to replace it in the bookshelf. But Bruce reached for it. “It’s a couple of years old,” Buck added.

  “About a month after we started coming here,” Rayford said.

  Bruce flipped right to the picture of his family, stood studying it for several seconds, and said, “You’re in here, Rayford?”

  “Yes,” Rayford said simply, and Buck noticed him trying to get Chloe to move into the office.

  Bruce turned to the Steele picture and nodded, smiling. He brought the directory back into the office with him, tucked it under his Bible and notebook, and opened the meeting in prayer.

  Bruce started a little emotionally, but he soon warmed to his topic. He was flipping from Revelation to Ezekiel and Daniel and back again, comparing the prophetic passages to what was happening in New York and the rest of the world.

  “Any of you hear the news about the two witnesses in Jerusalem today?”

  Buck shook his head, and Rayford did the s
ame. Chloe did not respond. She was not taking notes either or asking any questions. “A reporter said that a little band of a half dozen thugs tried to charge the two, but they all wound up burned to death.”

  “Burned?” Buck said.

  “No one knew where the fire came from,” Bruce said. “But we know, don’t we?”

  “Do we?”

  “Look at Revelation 11. The angel tells the apostle John, ‘“And I will give power to my two witnesses, and they will prophesy one thousand two hundred and sixty days, clothed in sackcloth.” These are the two olive trees and the two lampstands standing before the God of the earth. And if anyone wants to harm them, fire proceeds from their mouth and devours their enemies. And if anyone wants to harm them, he must be killed in this manner.’”

  “They breathed fire on them like dragons?”

  “It’s right here in the book,” Bruce said.

  “I’d like to see that on CNN,” Buck said.

  “Keep watching,” Bruce said. “We’ll see more than that.”

  Rayford wondered if he would ever get used to the things God was revealing to him. He could hardly fathom how far he’d come, how much he had accepted in less than a month. There was something about the dramatic invasion of God into humankind and into himself specifically that had changed the way he thought. From being a man who had to have everything documented, he suddenly found himself believing without question the most ludicrous news accounts, as long as they were corroborated by Scripture. And the opposite was also true: He believed everything in the Bible. Sooner or later the news would carry the same story.

  Bruce turned to Buck. “How did your day go?” To Rayford, it seemed like an inside question.

  “More to talk about than I can get into here,” Buck said.

  “No kidding,” Chloe snapped. It was the first thing she had said.

  Buck glanced at her and said, “I’ll debrief you tomorrow, Bruce, and then we can talk about it here tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, let’s talk about it now,” Chloe said. “We’re all friends here.”