by Tim LaHaye
“Are you sure you want to know?” Abdullah said.
“Of course. Don’t protect me. Even if it’s the worst, we’ll reunite with them soon.”
Chaim settled into a tilting chair next to Rayford’s bed and leaned back. “Magnificent,” he said. “Like a front-row seat to eternity.”
It wasn’t like Chaim to stall. Though well past seventy now, he was a brilliant man of seemingly unbridled energy, and no one knew him to waste time. Yet here he sat, studying the skies of Israel, with apparently nothing to say.
“Something on your mind, Doctor? I mean, more than a million people here would give anything to spend this night with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Global Community news-media cameras were trained on the Carpathian cavalry that emerged from the Dung Gate. Mac was relieved to discover he was not nearly the only member getting used to his steed. An equal number of men and women, most representing other sub-potentates, overreacted to their horses and wound up steering them in circles or being nearly chucked off. At first this was greeted with smiles all around, but it quickly became obvious that Carpathia was no longer amused. He dismissed the press and urged his generals to get everyone to their various means of conveyance to Petra.
Mac watched for his opening and was disappointed when his commander chose him as one to accompany Carpathia’s cargo plane, big enough for several horses and vehicles. If those in charge only knew that Mac was once Nicolae’s chief pilot . . .
Mac had once prided himself on keeping cool in a crisis, particularly when undercover. But as he dismounted and went through the motions of turning his horse over to a swarthy young man in a loud T-shirt who would walk it aboard the plane, he could think of nothing more creative than to simply try to talk his way out of it.
“Say, I’ve got a problem here, sport,” he said.
“Yeah? What might that be, sport?” the young man said, his accent that of a New Zealander.
“Got myself in the wrong group. Is it too late to catch up with the others?”
“You mean the ones being carried by Hummers and such?”
“Right.”
“I don’t know, but you’d better try. You get on board this plane when you’re not supposed to, and there’ll be blood to pay. Anyway, I got no room for even one extra horse.”
Mac took the horse back and mounted, and when someone called after him asking what he thought he was doing, he hollered, “Following orders! Going where they point me!” He looked over his shoulder to confirm that the voice was not that of his commander. He was otherwise engaged, which Mac found comforting. He didn’t want to have it out with anybody in the GC this close to the return of Jesus. All he needed was to be arrested or shot just before the end.
The animal beneath him seemed to respond to Mac’s sense of purpose. Mac knew where he was going now, and he wanted to get there fast. The first thing he wanted to do, once out of anyone else’s sight, was to call in the news about Buck and about Carpathia’s plans and see if there was any word on Rayford. Then he wanted to get into his own chopper and out of this infernal Global Community Unity Army uniform. His own plain and baggy clothes had never seemed so inviting.
Sebastian felt the fatigue, not of boredom but of inactivity. Tension and anticipation would carry him until midnight or even dawn, if necessary. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
He was grateful for the International Co-op and the job Lionel Whalum had been doing with it since Chloe Steele Williams’s death. Behind Sebastian stood three gargantuan searchlights, equipment only the Co-op could have located and transported. Without the lights, Sebastian’s eyes could play tricks on him. In the moonlight alone, he might have imagined the Unity Army beginning to advance again. He sensed the rumble, felt the vibration, knew something was happening, but all he needed was to flip the switches, train those gigantic beams toward the enemy, and determine that they were merely holding their ground half a mile away.
Razor’s ATV came skidding up behind him in a cloud of dust. Razor approached with a salute and stood at attention.
“You’ve really got to quit that, boy,” Sebastian said. “I’m as military and gung ho as the next guy, but what am I going to do with you? Court-martial you and put you in the brig for what—an hour or two?”
“Sorry, sir,” Razor said, fully reporting on what he called his Captain Steele detail.
“Well, I’m just glad to know it was only you making the ground rumble. Had me thinking the enemy was on the move again.”
“Oh, they are, sir.”
“They are?”
“Yes, sir. From up on the slopes I could see them advancing. You can’t see them at this level, but they’ve moved a good bit, sir. They surely have.”
Sebastian dispatched Otto Weser to flip the switches on the big lamps. “I’d trust my night-vision goggles, but I don’t mind the Unity boys seeing what we’ve got. Anyway, their horses can’t be accustomed to this.”
“Standing by, Big Dog One,” Otto called in.
“Fire ’em up,” Sebastian said, and the high beams ripped across the desert sand. “Mercy.”
The enemy had advanced at least eight hundred yards in the darkness, and the front line of their seemingly endless mounted troops now stood silently about eighty yards away. It was plain they were merely waiting for orders to attack.
“We should attack them, sir,” Razor said.
“Say again?”
“We should—”
“I heard you, Razor. I just can’t believe I heard you. In any other situation, that would be brilliant. Seriously. Sucker punch them. Like taking the first swing at the bully. You know they wouldn’t be expecting it.”
“But?”
“But two things: First, if everything we threw at them found its mark, we’d cause a ministampede, kill a few soldiers and horses, then get massacred. Second, we’re invulnerable where we stand, as far as we know. We may not be out there.”
“There is one other thing,” Razor said.
“I’m listening.”
“This battle’s already been won, and without us lifting a finger.”
“Well, there is that, yes.”
Sebastian’s phone chirped. It was Mac. “Yes,” George said, “Rayford’s back in his quarters with Chaim and will apparently pull through. And Buck? . . . I’m sorry to hear that. You talked to Chang? . . . Probably monitoring the world. We’ll spread the word.”
“I sense we are a lot alike, Captain Steele,” Chaim said.
That drew Rayford’s gaze from the window for a second. He couldn’t imagine many people he was more different from than Chaim. They were Jew and Gentile, old and not so old, Middle Eastern and American, botanist and aviator, leader of a million people and leader of a small band.
“I sense,” Chaim said, “despite our cultural and professional differences, that we are both normal men thrust into decisions and roles not of our own making. Am I right?”
“I guess.”
“It may be even more surprising that I am a believer in Messiah than that you are. But both of us took the long way to get here, didn’t we?”
“We did.”
“As you know, in my current position I have more company—more friends and associates and elders and advisers—than anyone would ever need. True, I had no shortage of options as to with whom I would spend this evening. Frankly, if I could have chosen from the whole universe, I would have chosen your son-in-law. We go back a long, long way. I knew him before he was a believer, and he knew me so long before I was that I daresay he still finds it hard to fathom. My hope is that if Cameron returns tonight, he will join us and feel welcome.”
Chang was, in fact, monitoring the world. He had seemed to catch his second wind. He knew he should be in bed, but who could sleep at a time like this? He sat at his computer, staring at the reports coming in from all over the world about people, especially Jews, putting their faith in Jesus Christ as their Messiah. Tens of thousands every few minutes were totaling in th
e millions now, and Chang had the feeling it wouldn’t stop until the Glorious Appearing. There were to be signs in the heavens before that, and more were prophesied to come to Christ.
Rayford and Chaim got the news about Buck from Sebastian a few minutes later. Rayford didn’t know what to feel. He knew Buck was fine, better than he had ever been, and that he would see him soon. But he hated the thought that the young man, the father of Rayford’s grandson and the husband of his daughter, had suffered so. Rayford had lost many friends and loved ones, none so close as his daughter and now son-in-law. But in the past he had somehow been able to come to terms with the losses, to tell himself it was the price of war, the inevitable result of what they had been called to do.
It was not so easy now, not when it struck so close to home. He called Mac.
The clouds parted and the moon shone brightly, all the way to the Dead Sea, directly beneath Mac.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, Ray. Yeah, it looks like Buck came to a rough end. But he was doing what he wanted to do. He worked at it, trained for it, and if you remember the first reports we got from him, he and Tsion got done what they hoped to.”
“How’s the resistance?”
“’Bout finished. Unity’s got ’em pushed into the Temple Mount, and it’s clear the GC has hardly scratched the surface of their resources yet. They could take the whole city anytime they wanted.”
“You’re heading back, I assume.”
“Not all the way,” Mac said. “I want to see what happens on the Petra perimeter from the air. Then I want to head back up to Buseirah and see how that plays out.”
“You know I’d give anything to be there with you.”
“Holy mackerel! You see that, Ray?”
“I see it. I’ll let you go. Time to watch the show.”
A cloud had now covered the moon. It was bright and nearly full and had been highlighting the dancing clouds. Suddenly, it had seemed to disappear, as if someone had turned it out like a light. Rayford knew the moon merely reflected the sun anyway, thus it was the sun—far below the horizon now—that had lost its light. The sky was pitch.
Rayford asked Chaim to douse all the lights.
“We will see nothing, Captain,” Chaim said. “Nonetheless, the better to see what is coming.”
Once the lights were off, Rayford could tell Chaim stood by the window only by the sound of his voice.
Rayford said, “Have you ever seen blackness so thick?”
“I have seen many wonders in the last seven years,” Chaim said. “This is like seeing nothing. But the mere anticipation it engenders causes a buzz from the top of my head to the soles of my shoes.”
Lightning ripped through the sky, and Rayford was stunned to see the clouds briefly again. “I think I saw a shooting star,” he said. “I love those.”
“That was more than a shooting star,” Chaim said, “which, as you know, is not really a star anyway. What you saw was truly a falling star, maybe a meteor. Soon stars and meteors will fall, but you will only hear them. Isaiah foretold that the stars of heaven and their constellations would not give their light. The sun will be darkened and the moon will not shine.
“God is saying, ‘I will punish the world for its evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; I will halt the arrogance of the proud, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible.
“‘I will shake the heavens, and the earth will move out of her place, in the wrath of the Lord of hosts and in the day of His fierce anger.
“‘Everyone will flee to his own land. Everyone who is found will be thrust through, and everyone who is captured will fall by the sword.’”
Rayford shook his head. “There’s another difference between us, Chaim. I’ve never been able to memorize like that.”
“What else have I to do, Rayford? As I say, I was thrust into this position, and the teacher became the student. My former protégé, Dr. Ben-Judah, would not hear of my giving short shrift to the Scriptures. He discipled me, pushed me, grounded me in them. Most of all, God gave me a love for His Word. Now there is nothing I would rather do than study it every spare moment and commit as much of it as possible to memory.”
Enoch’s people leaped to their feet and cried out when the early afternoon sun disappeared from the suburban Chicago sky. Though he knew it was coming, Enoch himself was spooked when the light of day turned into the darkest night and the temperature immediately dropped.
He heard a roaring, whistling sound and thought of the cliché that people always used when recounting a tornado: “It sounded like a freight train.” Well, this sounded like a plane about to crash. They were close enough to the airport that it could have been, but Enoch did not recall hearing a jet.
Something was coming, and it was getting closer.
“Don’t be afraid!” Enoch called out, but he couldn’t hide the fear in his own voice. “This was prophesied. We just talked about it. It’s all part of God’s plan.”
But when whatever was falling finally crashed into the main road on the other side of the mall, there was no stopping the gathering from bolting to take a look. Enoch jogged along behind them, grateful for the light-sensitive streetlights that began popping on all over. A meteor about three feet in diameter had bored a ten-foot-wide hole twenty feet deep in the road.
And here came another.
People screamed and scattered, but Enoch held his ground. “I believe we’re protected!” he said. “None of the judgments from heaven harmed God’s people! We bear His mark, His seal! He will protect us!”
But his body of believers had taken flight. Enoch smiled. He would chide them tomorrow when all were unscathed. How strange it seemed to be walking around in midnight darkness early in the afternoon. The next meteorite, which Enoch guessed was twice the size of the first, obliterated one of the former anchor stores in the deserted mall. It caused such an explosion he had to cover his ears. While he truly believed he would not be hurt, he found himself ducking and expecting debris to crack him on the head.
Enoch ran back to where he had met with the people, but he was alone now. He sat on a concrete bench and watched the show. Mostly he listened. Had he been a caveman, he would have believed the sky was falling, that the stars would all eventually hit the earth.
If anything, the rate of incoming reports of Jewish people turning to the Messiah increased dramatically over the next half hour. Chang beckoned Naomi to his side and sat with his arm around her waist as she stood. They couldn’t decide what was more entertaining—the myriad camera feeds from all over the dark world, or the racing meter giving evidence of the fulfilling of the prophecy that a third of the Jewish remnant would come to believe in Jesus as their Messiah by the time of the end.
Chang could only think back to the horrific scenes he had monitored when Carpathia was at the height of his murderous fury against the Jews. He had had them rounded up, put in death camps, starved, tortured, beaten, humiliated with psychological warfare—you name it. That any survived was a miracle. That many became believers was something else.
“This is sure different from the last time Jesus came,” Naomi said. “Besides that we weren’t ready, it happened in the twinkling of an eye. Apparently God’s going to play this one out for all it’s worth.”
Mac had the strangest sensation. He had been trained to fly by instruments, of course, but still he found it disconcerting to see nothing above. And the only light on the ground was man-produced. Gradually he picked up boat lights, lights on other planes, headlights of cars and trucks and military vehicles. He heard the scream of falling meteorites over the usually deafening thwock-thwock-thwock of the blades and even heard the explosions when they blasted the earth. That was new. Mac had never been able to hear anything inside the chopper cockpit, especially with his earphones on.
Now, even above the cacophony of GC aviators demanding to know what was going on, the earth resounded with the wrath of God, with the literal falling of the heavens. A meteor at least ten feet in diameter fell w
ithin a hundred feet of Mac’s helicopter. His lights picked it up, and he followed it until it hit a building, sending a shower of fire and sparks into the air. He had no idea what the building might have been, but it gave him pause. Was he protected from these free-falling monsters of stone or metal? Even a small one would demolish a chopper, and now they began to fall all around him. People on the ground, particularly Unity Army troops, had to be terrified. Mac wondered how many wished they could change their marks of loyalty now.
He was fairly certain he would be protected, as believers had been since the judgments began seven years before. But fairly certain wasn’t enough for him to follow through with his plan. Mac made for Petra, knowing that airspace was secure. He could have been killed there many times over, but he had been miraculously spared every time.
Rayford was having the time of his life. The news about Buck had set him back, of course, and despite what he knew about the future, it gave him that ache in the pit of his stomach, as had his loss of Chloe. But to lie in his bed watching the heavens shake as they had been prophesied to do thousands of years before . . .
And to have his old friend, Chaim Rosenzweig, the one God had chosen to be a modern-day Moses, standing there quoting those prophecies from memory, well, it almost made him forget his grief and his wounds.
“‘I saw another angel coming down from heaven,’” Chaim said, “‘having great authority, and the earth was illuminated with his glory. And he cried mightily with a loud voice, saying, “Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and has become a dwelling place of demons, a prison for every foul spirit, and a cage for every unclean and hated bird! For all the nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth have become rich through the abundance of her luxury.”’