by Tim LaHaye
As Tsion studied the biblical texts about Lucifer and his being cast out from heaven, he became convinced that when he had seen the dragon sweep a third of the stars from the skies and they fell to earth, he was witness to eternity past. The Scripture often referred to angels, righteous or fallen, as stars, so he believed this was a picture of when Lucifer was first cast down due to his sin of pride.
Yet Tsion also knew that Satan, even up to the halfway point of the Tribulation—where Tsion believed history stood right then—had been granted access to the throne of God. He was the accuser of believers, yet when he pursued the woman and her child to devour them, a great battle was to be waged in heaven and he would be cast out for good.
Tsion was not aware he had fallen asleep again. All he knew was that the trip from the underground safe house into the chilly night air took less getting used to this time. He didn’t worry about temporal things. He could see Kenny sleeping in his crib and himself dozing on the couch as clearly as he could see the oceans and continents of the beautiful blue planet. How peaceful it looked from up here, compared to what he knew was happening down there.
When he arrived at the appointed place, the woman had left her footstool. The sun-garment was gone with her, of course, as was the garland of stars. Yet brightness enveloped Tsion again, and he was eager to ask questions before this all faded and he awoke. Though Tsion knew it was a dream, he also knew it was of God, and he rested on the promise of old men dreaming dreams.
Tsion turned to the brightness, marveling again at the size and majesty of the angel. “Michael,” he began, “is the woman Mary or—”
“Michael is engaged in battle, as you will soon see. I am Gabriel, the announcer.”
“Oh! Forgive me, Prince Gabriel. Can you tell me, who is the woman? Is it Mary, or is it Israel?”
“Yes and yes.”
“That was not as helpful as I had hoped.”
“When you ponder it, you will find it so.”
“And the twelve stars on her head. Do they represent the tribes of Israel?”
“Or . . . ?” Gabriel prodded.
“Or the . . . the apostles?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Somehow I knew you were going to—so these things mean whatever we want or need them to mean?”
“No. They mean what they mean.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Son of earth, did you see what the male child bore in his hand?”
“I’m sorry, I did not.”
“A rod of iron, with which he shall rule the nations.”
“So clearly he is Jesus . . .”
“The Christ, the Messiah, Son of the living God.”
Tsion felt unworthy even to hear the description. He felt as if he were in the very presence of God.
“Prince Gabriel, to where has the woman fled?”
“Into the wilderness where God has prepared a place for her, where she will be safe for three and a half years.”
“Does this mean God has prepared a place in the wilderness for his chosen people, where they too will be safe during the Great Tribulation?”
“You have said it.”
“And what of the dragon?”
“He is enraged.”
“And Michael?”
Gabriel gestured behind Tsion. “Behold.”
Tsion turned to see a great battle raging. Michael and his angels wielded great double-edged swords against fiery darts from the dragon and his evil angels. The ugly hordes advanced again and again against Michael’s mighty forces, but they could not prevail. As his comrades retreated behind him, the dragon fled to the throne. But it was as if a colossal invisible door had been slammed in his face. He fell back and tried to advance again to the place he had enjoyed before the throne. But from the throne came an insistent, “No. There is no longer a place here for you. Be gone!”
The dragon turned, his anger nearly consuming him. With his seven heads grimacing and gnashing their teeth, he gathered his own around him, and they all tumbled toward the earth. And Gabriel announced in a loud voice, “So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was cast to the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.” And now louder still, with great joy: “Now salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our God day and night, has been cast down. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death. Therefore rejoice, O heavens, and you who dwell in them! Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea! For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has a short time.”
“What happens now?” Tsion said.
Gabriel looked at him and folded his arms. “The dragon will persecute the woman who gave birth to the child, but God will protect her. In his wrath the dragon will make war with the rest of her offspring, those who keep the commandments of God and have the testimony of Jesus the Christ.”
Michael stood next to Gabriel now, his great sword sheathed, his warriors dispersed. Tsion could not speak. He opened his mouth to form words of gratitude, but he was mute. And he awoke. It was still ten o’clock.
By nine in the morning Carpathia Time, New Babylon was a sea of people. Opportunists had set up shop on every road that led to the palace courtyard. Sellers of chairs, sunblock, umbrellas, bottled water, food, and souvenirs preyed on the pilgrims. Some merchants were run off by GC Peacekeepers, only to set up again a quarter mile away.
It was clear the forecasted one hundred degrees would be surpassed before noon. A canopy was erected behind the bier to protect both it and the armed guards from the relentless sun. Still, mourners and officials dropped right and left and were ferried to medical tents, where they were hydrated and fanned and sometimes doused with water.
David returned to his perch above one of the med tents, though it had been moved more than two hundred yards from the courtyard to make room for the crowds. Barriers, ropes, and makeshift fences forced people to snake back and forth in an agonizingly slow path to the bier. Street entertainers, jugglers, clowns, strippers, and vendors tried to keep people occupied. Here and there scuffles broke out, quickly quelled by the Peacekeepers.
Laborers continued to swarm, finalizing the reconstruction that would allow hundreds of thousands more in the courtyard. The huge screens were in place and operating, as were countless monitors surrounding the palace. When the ceremony was about to begin at noon, the line would be stopped and millions would fan out from the speaker’s platform next to the coffin to more than a mile away.
From his spot David heard bands practicing, choirs rehearsing, dance troupes going through their paces. With binoculars he saw Annie manning her station nearly a half mile away. His phone chirped. It was a Peacekeeper at the airport.
“Director Hassid, I have a family here from China looking for their daughter, a GC employee named Ming Toy.”
“Yes?”
“They say she told them to contact you or Cargo Chief Christopher if they could not find their daughter. She’s come from Buffer in Brussels.”
“Do they know where she is positioned here? It’s all numbered, you know.”
The guard covered the phone and asked them. “No,” he said. “They said they thought their daughter was trying to get assigned near Ms. Christopher.”
“Ms. Christopher is stationed at marker 53.”
“Thank you, sir.”
David kept his field glasses trained on Annie and saw when the red-uniformed Asian approached and they embraced. They engaged in what appeared an animated conversation, and Annie grabbed her phone. David’s erupted again. “Hi, babe,” he said. “Ming’s parents and brother are on their way from the airport and will look for her at your station. Did she get assigned—”
“David!” Annie whispered fiercely. “North American GC has identified the safe house!”
“What?!”
“Ming overheard it. She couldn’t let me know before because they gathered everyone’s phones for security.”
“Call Tsion! I’ll call Steele.”
Rayford believed the new safe house might be the greatest gift God had bestowed on the Trib Force since the arrival of Tsion Ben-Judah. Several floors had been left virtually unblemished, and all the systems worked. There were more bathrooms than the occupants could ever use, and every service imaginable. It wasn’t a home, of course, so beds would have to be brought in or fashioned. But the place could hold hundreds, maybe more. He didn’t know how reasonable it was to think a whole lot of people could hide out there undetected, but he dreamed of inviting every dispossessed believer he knew: Leah’s friend from Brussels, maybe her brother from China, Albie, maybe the Mikloses one day, all the insiders from New Babylon. A guy could dream.
He and Leah and Chloe were headed back toward Mount Prospect just after midnight, Central Standard Time, when David called with the news. “Annie’s calling Tsion,” David said. “He’s got to get out of there.”
“There are certain things we have to have,” Rayford said. “And Tsion doesn’t have wheels.”
“Captain, he’s got to get out of there now.”
“We have to go get him, David. Any way you can tell where we might run into GC?”
“Not in time to help you. You might have to take some risks.”
“We’ll also try to get Tsion on the phone. Who knows where the GC is or when they might strike? Our underground is a pretty good cover.”
Tsion thanked Annie and rushed to shut off the power, trying to keep from hyperventilating. He felt his way in the dark and filled two pillowcases with necessities. The TV would stay. He gathered up essential medicines, a few reference works, and all the laptops, baby stuff, a handful of clothes, whatever he could fit into the bulging slipcases. He left enough room at the tops to tie them together and left them at the bottom of the stairs. There was only one way out of the shelter, and that was the way he had come in. Even if he were to throw a blanket over Kenny and lug him and the stuff out into the garage, that would be the second place the GC would look.
His best hope, he knew, was to hear the GC come in upstairs, pray that they would be stopped by the spoiled food in the phony freezer, find no one, and move on. Then he would be ready to flee as soon as the others arrived.
Chloe called, nearly hysterical. “Tsion,” she said, “if the GC gets to the cellar, you have to promise me—”
“I’ll protect the baby with my life.”
“You have to promise me, Tsion, please! Under my mattress is a syringe with a potassium cyanide solution. It’ll work quick, but you have to inject it directly into his buttocks. You can do it right through the diaper. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to be decisive and sure.”
“Chloe! Get hold of yourself! I’m not going to harm Kenny!”
“Tsion,” she cried, “please! Don’t ever let them have my baby!”
“I won’t. But I’ll not—”
“Please!”
“No! Now let me do my work! I have to watch and listen. For now, Kenny is down and out. God is with us.”
“Tsion!”
“Good-bye, Chloe.”
Tsion went to the edge of the underground with the thinnest barrier to the outside and stood listening for engines. Or footsteps. Doors. Windows. So far, nothing. He hated being trapped. He was tempted to lug Kenny and the stuff to the garage, then make a break for it if the GC broke into the house. It was foolishness, he knew. He’d get nowhere on foot. His more-than-lifelike dream had put him on a first-name basis with the archangels of God, yet there he stood, cowering in a corner. He guessed Rayford was, at best, nearly an hour away. And if he happened to arrive when the GC was already there, Rayford would have to disappear.
Tsion prayed the GC had decided to take its time, to come the next day or the next week.
Until he sat in a cramped jet for a transatlantic flight, Buck didn’t realize how extensive were his injuries. He felt twenty years older, wincing and sometimes yelping when he moved.
A couple of hours after Albie had taken off in a refurbished Jordanian fighter, the type with which Abdullah was most familiar, Buck had gotten word from Leah about the pastor who wanted to speak with him. He told her to give the man his number but to be sure he called from a public phone. The resulting conversation was one bright spot in a harrowing weekend.
“Your brother was the instigator,” the pastor told him. “He confronted your father about his stubborn insistence that he was a believer and always had been. Your brother visited our house church by himself the first two or three times, and to hear your father tell it, he finally came just to avoid being alone. Mr. Williams, it took a long time for your father to get the picture.”
“It would.”
“Your brother less so. It was as if he were ready. But he knew better than to push your father. One of the biggest obstacles was that he knew one day he would have to admit that you were right and he was wrong.”
Buck fought tears. “That’s Pop all right. But why—”
“. . . didn’t your brother call? Two reasons. First, he wanted your dad to be the one to share the news. Two, he was scared to death they were going to somehow give you away. He knew well your position and how dangerous it was, or I should say is.”
“Only calling from a bugged phone would have caused a problem.”
“But he didn’t know that. I just want you to know, sir, that your dad and your brother became true believers, and I’m sure they’re with God right now. They were so proud of you. And you can tell Dr. Ben-Judah that he has at least one church out here that could lose its pastor and never skip a beat. We all love him.”
Buck assured him he would tell Tsion.
They were an hour from Palwaukee when Buck got the call from Chloe about the safe house. While Chaim lay across the backseat, humming in agony over his various ailments, Albie seemed to grow more and more agitated as he realized what was going on.
“How was the safe house compromised?” he said. “Did Miss Durham finally give you up?”
“We don’t know, Albie. All we know for sure is that Dr. Ben-Judah and our baby are there without transportation, and we have no idea how far away the GC is or whether Rayford can get there in time.”
“And you have a new safe house, somewhere to go if you can get them out of there.”
“Yes.”
“Grab my bag from behind my seat.”
Buck pulled it up, deciding it weighed more than Albie. “What have you got in this thing?”
Albie was all business. “Open, please.”
The top layer consisted of Albie’s underwear.
“Dig, please. Find side arm and holster.”
Buck dug past what looked like a GC uniform. “Is this what I think it is?”
Albie nodded with a pleased look. “See cap. Check rank.”
Buck whistled. “Deputy commander? Where did you get this?”
“No questions, no obligations.”
“C’mon, did you used to work for the GC?”
“Better not to know.”
“But did you?”
“No, but no more questions.”
“Just where did you—”
“I have my sources. Sources are my life. Call Rayford. Tell him to meet us at Palwaukee.”
“He shouldn’t get to the safe house?”
“We need a vehicle. We need it as bad as Rayford needs it.”
“How so?”
“Watch and learn. At Palwaukee, where can I change into the uniform?”
“You’re going to—?”
“You don’t ask. You only answer.”
“There’s a spot,” Buck said. “I can show you.”
“Anywhere we can leave Tobias Rogoff?”
“I wouldn’t, now that we don’t really know anyone there.”
“OK. Find my papers. Dig deeper. Betwe
en the fake bottom of bag and the real bottom.”
Buck found Albie’s straight ID, then, right where he said, a worn leather pouch.
“Open, please. How many of us will be in the vehicle, six?”
Buck thought and confirmed that.
“And Mr. Rogoff needs a whole seat to self.”
“Maybe not.”
“Hope not. Too crowded. Find the papers to go with the clothes.”
Buck leafed through until he found documents proving Albie’s high-level role with the GC Peacekeeping Force. The picture, in snappy uniform, was of Albie but over a different name.
“Marcus Elbaz?” Buck said.
“Deputy Commander Elbaz to you, citizen,” Albie said with such conviction that for a moment Buck thought he was truly upset. Buck saluted and Albie matched him. “Call Steele now.”
Rayford was heartsick that Chloe was so determined to kill Kenny rather than see him fall into the hands of the enemy. And yet as a father, he could identify with her passion. It terrified him that she had thought it through to the point where she had an injection prepared.
Rayford had found a way back to a short stretch of unobstructed open road without making it obvious he had emerged from a restricted area. Now he had to find shortcuts and pick his way around debris and craters while careful not to violate any traffic laws. When he was free of other traffic he would make up for lost time and get to the safe house at the highest speed he could muster, his and his passengers’ heads banging the roof of the Land Rover or not.
Buck’s call was puzzling, and Rayford demanded to talk with Albie.
“What’s the deal, friend? What’re you up to?”
“Do you trust me, Captain Steele?”
“With my life, and more than once.”
“So trust me now. You get to Palwaukee and be waiting for us. Then be prepared to get me to the safe house fast as you can. I’ll explain roles as we go. If we’re lucky, we beat the GC and we get the rabbi and the baby out. If we engage, everything depends on me.”