“I still can’t get my mind around it,” Judd said.
“The people who enter into the kingdom in their natural bodies, hopefully like you and me, will still be able to die. There’s just so much to learn about—and think, we only have a few months until the whole thing starts.”
“The best thing is, we’re going to get to see our friends and family. You’ll finally get to meet my mom and dad— and my little brother and sister.”
“I can’t wait,” Vicki said.
Mark moved to the next Humvee, but this time he threw the keys as far as he could into the trees. As he crept toward the next vehicle, someone approached from the other side and Mark hit the dirt, the pain in his leg almost making him cry out.
“We’re searching now, but my guess is they’re not here.” There was no question that this was Fulcire. “What’s our intel on their movement?” After a pause, Fulcire cursed and yelled, “Can’t you people do anything right!?”
Mark breathed a sigh of relief when the man walked toward the main cabin. The front window was open in the next Humvee so he quickly reached inside, snatched the keys, and tossed them into the woods. This time they pinged off a tree.
Fulcire turned. “People! People! I heard something in the woods to the east. Everybody over there—now!!!”
Mark stayed low to the ground, watching officers move away from the burning cabins. Perfect, he thought. One more set of keys and I’m outta here.
Mark sneaked to the lead vehicle and pulled himself alongside the driver’s window. The tinted glass kept him from seeing inside. He carefully opened the door, and an alarm pierced the night.
“Somebody’s messing with the vehicles!” a man shouted.
Mark reached for the keys, but they weren’t in the ignition. He pulled the handgun from his pocket and shot out the left front and rear tires as he limped toward the last Humvee. He pulled the keys from his pocket, opened the door, and struggled into the driver’s seat. The Humvee roared to life while officers streamed from the woods.
Mark slammed the gearshift in reverse and backed away as the first volley of gunfire hit the Humvee. Bulletproof glass, Mark thought. Lucky me. In spite of the pain in his leg, he jammed his foot on the accelerator and rocketed down the dirt road, bullets clinking off metal, dust and rocks thrown in the air. In his side mirror he saw flashes of fire from the soldiers’ weapons.
Mark focused on the road and turned on his lights. As he neared the main road, he glanced back and saw the frantic officers trying to find their keys. He smiled, knowing he was free.
But he wasn’t.
As soon as he turned onto the main road, a bus careened in front of him, cutting him off. Mark jerked the wheel to the right, plunging into a ditch. The Humvee shook and rattled. A sharp pain shot through his right leg, and Mark nearly lost control. As the Humvee jumped out of the ditch, the driver of the bus swerved. Another ditch, this one deeper than the last, loomed in front of him. Mark struggled to keep the vehicle on the road, dodging to his left and hitting the bus, then lurching down the hill into dead trees. He slammed on his brakes with his left foot and watched the bus zip past. Peacekeepers ran forward, shooting at his tires.
Mark whipped the Humvee around and headed east. He was going sixty miles per hour when a Peacekeeper with a rifle opened fire, exploding a front tire. He lost control and veered left as a back tire shredded.
The Humvee, tires smoking now, ran off the road and slammed into a burned tree, knocking it down and sending Mark into the windshield.
Dazed, Mark shook his head and tried to see how badly he was hurt. He felt his forehead and pulled back a handful of blood. He felt like someone had hit him in the face with a baseball bat.
Gotta get out of here, he thought, reaching for the door handle.
The door opened by itself, or so it seemed. Mark swung his legs around and leaned into the barrels of several Global Community guns.
“We have him, Commander,” one said into a radio. The man grabbed Mark’s gun and threw it away. Then he twisted Mark’s hands behind him and cuffed them.
Mark went limp and collapsed.
21
MARK awoke in the back of the bus, handcuffed and aching. His right leg felt like it was hanging on by a thread. His belt was still buckled tightly around his knee. His eyes stung, and he realized blood had trickled down his forehead while he was unconscious. He leaned forward to the seat in front of him and rubbed his eyes for relief.
The Peacekeepers weren’t happy. They had expected to fill the bus with rebels. A Humvee followed, and Mark figured Commander Fulcire was in it.
Mark sat back and tried to get comfortable. His shoulders throbbed, and his hands had fallen asleep. He tried to pray and remembered a verse Marshall Jameson had talked about during one of their meetings—the one about the Holy Spirit praying for believers with groans that can’t be expressed. At the time Mark hadn’t understood the concept, but now he was living it. Though he couldn’t form the words, God knew what was going on.
Mark had often thought about what he would do if he ever got caught by the GC. If he kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t go wrong. The moment he talked, they would offer things—food, water, or sleep. But Mark was desperate to know if his friends had truly made it to safety. If he knew that, he could keep going as long as it took.
Mark knew of others who had been captured. Chloe Williams had no doubt been questioned by the GC, and while news reports said she had given lots of information, no one believed it. He shuddered at the thought of facing the guillotine. If he was going to die as bravely as Chloe, he knew he would have to have God’s help.
I’m not going to die, Mark thought. My friends are going to find me and get me out of here. Period.
A Peacekeeper glanced at Mark. The soldier looked a couple of years older than him, and Mark wondered if he had heard that within six months Jesus would return to crush the Global Community. He’s coming back soon, Mark thought. Sooner than you think.
The soldier sneered and keyed a microphone attached to his uniform. “He’s awake, sir.”
“Condition?” It sounded like Commander Fulcire.
“Looks a little dazed,” the soldier said. “Still breathing.”
“Give him some water. Nothing else.”
The soldier unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water and held it out. Mark opened his mouth, and the man poured a few drops in. Then he poured so fast that Mark choked, coughing and sputtering.
The soldier laughed. “Get enough, Judah-ite?”
Mark caught his breath.
The soldier sat across the aisle and leaned close. “You ready for what they’re going to do to you? No mark, no head. But since you caused trouble back there, I think they’re going to make it even more painful for you.”
Mark wondered how the GC had found out about their hideout. Had they tapped into their phones? Or infiltrated the Web site? Had someone tipped them off?
I guess it doesn’t matter now, he thought.
Mark didn’t want to talk, but he had to know about his friends. “Seems like a lot of people for just one guy.” His throat felt scratchy and raw.
The soldier smiled. “No way you were working alone. We’ve got the others in custody. They’ll face the same fate as you.” He leaned closer and whispered, “They say the blade sticks sometimes. It can cut you a few inches, and they have to raise it back up and let it go again. If you talk, they give you a clean one that gets it over quick.”
Mark thought about Jesus—how he had endured mocking and torture. Before the soldier could say anything else, Mark slumped against the seat and fell asleep.
While Vicki read more of Tsion Ben-Judah’s printout, Judd jogged to the tech center for an update. He spotted Rayford Steele, Chloe’s father, and watched him walk toward the meeting place. Over the past few months, Rayford had reorganized the Tribulation Force. Mr. Whalum, who had flown Lionel and Judd to South Carolina, had taken over the Co-op and helped plan the movement of supplies throu
ghout the world.
Rayford had agreed with a daring plan by Chang to bug an upcoming meeting in Baghdad, where Nicolae’s ten kings were supposed to appear. Judd had asked Chang if he and Vicki could be part of the tech crew, but Judd knew Rayford would have the final say. Judd didn’t know much about the plan, just that Chang hoped to use hidden cameras and microphones. There was even talk of Zeke making special disguises for everyone.
As Judd entered the tech center, Lionel waved frantically.
Judd rushed over and found Chang watching satellite video of a fire. Lionel explained that it was the Wisconsin hideout, and Judd gulped.
“Darrion just got through on the phone and is going to call us back any minute,” Lionel said.
“Did they all get out?” Judd said.
Lionel shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”
Chang went to the kids’ Web site and explained how the GC was able to break in and discover where the Young Trib Force was headquartered. Judd felt sick when he saw Nicolae Carpathia’s picture on their Web site. The GC had not only removed any reference to Jesus, the Bible, and Tsion Ben-Judah, they had already posted several articles about the great Nicolae.
If you’ve been to this Web site before, you’ll notice a number of changes, one post read. We have to admit we were wrong about the Global Community and especially Potentate Carpathia. If you haven’t taken the mark offered by the GC, do it now. It’s painless and it’ll help them keep order and peace. After all, that’s what we all want.
The article was signed Vicki B.
“We worked so hard on that,” Judd said. “All that data, all the articles … everything’s gone?”
Chang frowned. “Unless you have originals, I’m afraid so.”
The phone rang and Chang put the call on speakerphone. It was Darrion.
“Where are you guys?” Lionel said.
“Illinois. We finally got the cell phone working just across the Illinois border and got in touch with Lenore. She and the others in her group had to move, and we’re heading there tonight.”
“What’s your location now?” Chang said.
“We found an old farmhouse that wasn’t destroyed in the fire,” Darrion said. “As long as the GC doesn’t use their satellite stuff to find us, we’re okay.”
“I’ve taken care of that,” Chang said.
“Did everyone get out?” Lionel said.
“Everybody but Mark. He stayed and we haven’t heard from him.”
Judd bit his lip. “How did you guys find out the GC were coming?”
“Mark limped into camp telling us we had to get out. Marshall thinks he ran into the GC along the road.”
“Where was he going?” Lionel said.
“There was a big fight and Mark decided to leave,” Darrion said. “Everybody was upset with him, but I guess if he hadn’t left, the GC might have found us.”
Lionel asked about Charlie and several other members of the group. Darrion told them they had escaped with Phoenix, but all of their supplies, computer equipment, and clothes were still in the cabins.
“The cabins don’t exist,” Judd said. He told her about the fire.
“You guys settle in and stay safe,” Chang said. “I’ll jam their satellite until you make it to Lenore’s.”
Mark noticed the sun rising to his left. They were heading south toward Chicago. Maybe they were taking him to the new GC headquarters he had heard about. Or a prison where they televised executions.
Mark tried to put the thought out of his mind. He had memorized a lot of Scripture, so why couldn’t he remember anything now?
As he sat in the rumbling bus, emotion overtook him. Tears dripped from his nose onto the seat. He tried holding them back, but that only made things worse. Sobs racked his chest, and he thought he would die.
“Please, God,” he prayed, “give me the strength to go through whatever is going to happen. I know I won’t be able to make it without you.”
Vicki’s heart raced when Judd told her what had happened to their friends and that the cabins had burned. The news about Mark sent a wave of panic through her.
They rushed to the tech center, where Chang was at a computer on the other side of the room working on jamming the satellite. Lionel was at another computer in the back and waved at them.
“Just got into the GC’s database,” Lionel said. Vicki was amazed at how fast Lionel could type one-handed, his fingers rushing back and forth among the keys. “Chang showed me how to see anything Fulcire sends to his superiors. We can’t hear phone conversations, but we’ll see any written info.” He clicked on a previous message and something beeped. “New message.”
This confirms phone conversation that there will be a press briefing this afternoon, Fulcire wrote. We’ll go over the raid in Minnesota and the capture of this new rebel. We do not have a name yet, but I assure you we will by the time of the briefing. Though he’s young, we think we’ve caught one of the big fish in this so-called Young Tribulation Force.
Vicki put a hand to her mouth and whispered, “Mark.”
“I wish we could send out a message to have people pray,” Judd said.
“We could do it on Tsion’s Web site,” Lionel said.
“Can you make that happen?” Judd said.
“Just tell me what you want it to say, and I’ll have Chang post it.”
Vicki gagged when she saw the kids’ Web site. She thought of all the articles the kids had carefully created. Mark had rewritten most of Tsion Ben-Judah’s messages especially for young readers. Now it was all gone.
Vicki, Judd, and Lionel spent a few minutes praying for Mark and asking God to protect him. “Let Mark know that you love him and that you’re there for him,” Vicki prayed.
22
MARK scooted close to the side of the bus and propped his head against the wall. The emotion had passed, and now he just felt tired and sore. The cuffs cut into his wrists, and he wished the Peacekeeper would loosen them.
Mark tried to think of something to take his mind off the pain. His first thought was Vicki, and he smiled. She had looked so pretty on the video feed from Petra. Beautiful. He had known early that Vicki was attracted to Judd. Mark’s own feelings hadn’t stirred until much later. He loved the sound of her voice, the way she took chances to help people. There was something fearless about her, something pure and noble.
“You gotta forgive me, Vicki,” Mark whispered. He felt bad about yelling at her at the Dials’ hideout in Wisconsin. He had told her she had to leave or he would, but the truth was, deep down, Mark was simply confused about his feelings. Now he knew he felt jealous of Judd and had lashed out at her in anger.
Later, when he and Vicki had talked, he had almost told her how he felt. Almost let her know that he wanted to be more than friends. Mark took a deep breath and tried to hold back the tears. It was okay that she didn’t know, almost better.
The bus rumbled on as the sun rose higher. Peacekeepers slumped in their seats, trying to catch a few minutes of sleep. A man Mark hadn’t seen before walked down the aisle. He wasn’t wearing a GC uniform. The bus driver stared straight ahead, not noticing the man.
As the man neared, Mark looked closer at his long robe that reached the floor. He passed the Peacekeeper in the seat next to Mark, stopped, and looked directly into Mark’s eyes.
“Who are you?” Mark croaked.
The man’s eyes seemed full of compassion, as if at any moment he would weep. He gave a slight smile. “A messenger.”
“Okay.” Mark hesitated. “So what’s the message?”
The man gathered his robe and sat. “Lean forward,” he said. The pressure on Mark’s shoulders suddenly relaxed. The handcuffs fell, and the man placed them on the seat.
Mark rubbed his wrists and put his head back. His neck muscles, which had been so tense, loosened. The feeling was heavenly. “I think I could sleep for a hundred years. How did you do that?”
The man smiled. “It’s not important for you to know the how, just t
he why.”
“All right, why?”
“Your heavenly Father knows your needs. He has heard the cry of your heart and has sent me.”
Mark sat up. “Is this a rescue? Are you taking me out of here and past all these Peacekeepers?”
The man looked at the floor. “This is the message I was sent to give you. ‘When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.’ ”
“Who are you talking to?” the bus driver said, looking in his mirror.
The man nudged Mark. “Don’t worry. He can’t see me. At least, not yet.”
Mark ignored the driver and lowered his voice. “What does that verse mean? That you’re not going to get me out of here?”
“The Father has not promised to snatch you away from trouble. But he has promised to be with you every step. You have served him well, Mark. You will serve him yet.”
Mark moved his leg and noticed he had feeling below the knee. He quickly untied the belt and removed it. No pain. “Did you do that?”
The man put an arm around Mark’s shoulder. “In Proverbs it says, ‘An unreliable messenger stumbles into trouble, but a reliable messenger brings healing.’ ”
Mark flexed his leg. The torn ligaments were healed and without surgery—at least normal surgery. It was all he could do to sit still. “What do you mean, I’ll serve him? I don’t even know where these guys are taking me. How am I going to serve God from some GC jail?”
The angel—for Mark knew this was what he was— closed his eyes and spoke. It was like a whisper to Mark’s heart. “ ‘Have you never heard or understood? Don’t you know that the Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth? He never grows faint or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to those who are tired and worn out; he offers strength to the weak. Even youths will become exhausted, and young men will give up. But those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.’ ”
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