by Tim LaHaye
“This is the most successful Christian-fiction series ever.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“Combines Tom Clancy–like suspense with touches of romance, high-tech flash and Biblical references.”
THE NEW YORK TIMES
“Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins . . . are doing for Christian fiction what John Grisham did for courtroom thrillers.”
TIME
“Wildly popular—and highly controversial.”
USA TODAY
“Call it what you like, the Left Behind series . . . now has a label its creators could have never predicted: blockbuster success.”
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
Contents
Left Behind Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Tribulation Force Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Nicolae Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Soul Harvest Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Apollyon Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Assassins Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
The Indwelling Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The Mark Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Desecration Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
The Remnant Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Armageddon Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Interlude
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Glorious Appearing Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Authors
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ws, visit the Left Behind website at www.leftbehind.com.
TYNDALE, Tyndale’s quill logo, and Left Behind are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Left Behind Collection
Left Behind copyright © 1995 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2911-8.
Tribulation Force copyright © 1996 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2913-2.
Nicolae copyright © 1997 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2914-9.
Soul Harvest copyright © 1998 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2915-6.
Apollyon copyright © 1999 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2916-3.
Assassins copyright © 1999 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2920-0.
The Indwelling copyright © 2000 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-2928-6.
The Mark copyright © 2000 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-3225-5.
Desecration copyright © 2001 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-3226-2.
The Remnant copyright © 2002 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-3227-9.
Armageddon copyright © 2003 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-3234-7.
Glorious Appearing copyright © 2004 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved. Previously published under ISBN 978-0-8423-3235-4.
Designed by Dean H. Renninger
Some Scripture taken from the New King James Version,® copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Some Scripture quotations are taken from the New American Standard Bible,® copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.
Some Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.
Some Scripture quotations are taken from The Living Bible, copyright © 1971 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
The message from Tsion Ben-Judah to the remnant at Petra in chapter 1 of The Remnant is adapted from Daniel 3:26 and Isaiah 48:10-21, New King James Version.
The novels in this collection are works of fiction. Where real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novels are drawn from the authors’ imaginations.
Build: 2014-09-10 11:27:17
For Alice MacDonald and Bonita Jenkins, who ensured we would not be left behind
CHAPTER 1
Rayford Steele’s mind was on a woman he had never touched. With his fully loaded 747 on autopilot above the Atlantic en route to a 6 a.m. landing at Heathrow, Rayford had pushed from his mind thoughts of his family.
Over spring break he would spend time with his wife and twelve-year-old son. Their daughter would be home from college, too. But for now, with his first officer fighting sleep, Rayford imagined Hattie Durham’s smile and looked forward to their next meeting.
Hattie was Rayford’s senior flight attendant. He hadn’t seen her in more than an hour.
Rayford used to look forward to getting home to his wife. Irene was attractive and vivacious enough, even at forty. But lately he had found himself repelled by her obsession with religion. It was all she could talk about.
God was OK with Rayford Steele. Rayford even enjoyed church occasionally. But since Irene had hooked up with a smaller congregation and was into weekly Bible studies and church every Sunday, Rayford had become uncomfortable. Hers was not a church where people gave you the benefit of the doubt, assumed the best about you, and let you be. People there had actually asked him, to his face, what God was doing in his life.
“Blessing my socks off” had become the smiling response that seemed to satisfy them, but he found more and more excuses to be busy on Sundays.
Rayford tried to tell himself it was his wife’s devotion to a divine suitor that caused his mind to wander. But he knew the real reason was his own libido.
Besides, Hattie Durham was drop-dead gorgeous. No one could argue that. What he enjoyed most was that she was a toucher. Nothing inappropriate, nothing showy. She simply touched his arm as she brushed past or rested her hand gently on his shoulder when she stood behind his seat in the cockpit.
It wasn’t her touch alone that made Rayford enjoy her company. He could tell from her expressions, her demeanor, her eye contact that she at least admired and respected him. Whether she was interested in anything more, he could only guess. And so he did.
They had spent time together, chatting for hours over drinks or dinner, sometimes with coworkers, sometimes not. He had not returned so much as one brush of a finger, but his eyes had held her gaze, and he could only assume his smile had made its point.
Maybe today. Maybe this morning, if her coded tap on the door didn’t rouse his first officer, he would reach and cover the hand on his shoulder—in a friendly way he hoped she would recognize as a step, a first from his side, toward a relationship.
And a first it would be. He was no prude, but Rayford had never been unfaithful to Irene. He’d had plenty of opportunities. He had long felt guilty about a private necking session he enjoyed at a company Christmas party more than twelve years before. Irene had stayed home, uncomfortably past her ninth month carrying their surprise tagalong son, Ray Jr.
Though under the influence, Rayford had known enough to leave the party early. It was clear Irene noticed he was slightly drunk, but she couldn’t have suspected anything else, not from her straight-arrow captain. He was the pilot who had once consumed two martinis during a snowy shutdown at O’Hare and then voluntarily grounded himself when the weather cleared. He offered to pay for bringing in a relief pilot, but Pan-Continental was so impressed that instead they made an example of his self-discipline and wisdom.
In a couple of hours Rayford would be the first to see hints of the sun, a teasing palette of pastels that would signal the reluctant dawn over the continent. Until then, the blackness through the window seemed miles thick. His groggy or sleeping passengers had window shades down, pillows and blankets in place. For now the plane was a dark, humming sleep chamber for all but a few wanderers, the attendants, and one or two responders to nature’s call.
The question of the darkest hour before dawn, then, was whether Rayford Steele should risk a new, exciting relationship with Hattie Durham. He suppressed a smile. Was he kidding himself? Would someone with his reputation ever do anything but dream about a beautiful woman fifteen years his junior? He wasn’t so sure anymore. If only Irene hadn’t gone off on this new kick.
Would it fade, her preoccupation with the end of the world, with the love of Jesus, with the salvation of souls? Lately she had been reading everything she could get her hands on about the rapture of the church. “Can you imagine, Rafe,” she exulted, “Jesus coming back to get us before we die?”
“Yeah, boy,” he said, peeking over the top of his newspaper, “that would kill me.”
She was not amused. “If I didn’t know what would happen to me,” she said, “I wouldn’t be glib about it.”
“I do know what would happen to me,” he insisted. “I’d be dead, gone, finis. But you, of course, would fly right up to heaven.”
He hadn’t meant to offend her. He was just having fun. When she turned away he rose and pursued her. He spun her around and tried to kiss her, but she was cold. “Come on, Irene,” he said. “Tell me thousands wou
ldn’t just keel over if they saw Jesus coming back for all the good people.”
She had pulled away in tears. “I’ve told you and told you. Saved people aren’t good people, they’re—”
“Just forgiven, yeah, I know,” he said, feeling rejected and vulnerable in his own living room. He returned to his chair and his paper. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m happy for you that you can be so cocksure.”
“I only believe what the Bible says,” Irene said.
Rayford shrugged. He wanted to say, “Good for you,” but he didn’t want to make a bad situation worse. In a way he had envied her confidence, but in truth he wrote it off to her being a more emotional, more feelings-oriented person. He didn’t want to articulate it, but the fact was, he was brighter—yes, more intelligent. He believed in rules, systems, laws, patterns, things you could see and feel and hear and touch.
If God was part of all that, OK. A higher power, a loving being, a force behind the laws of nature, fine. Let’s sing about it, pray about it, feel good about our ability to be kind to others, and go about our business. Rayford’s greatest fear was that this religious fixation would not fade like Irene’s Amway days, her Tupperware phase, and her aerobics spell. He could just see her ringing doorbells and asking if she could read people a verse or two. Surely she knew better than to dream of his tagging along.
Irene had become a full-fledged religious fanatic, and somehow that freed Rayford to daydream without guilt about Hattie Durham. Maybe he would say something, suggest something, hint at something as he and Hattie strode through Heathrow toward the cab line. Maybe earlier. Dare he assert himself even now, hours before touchdown?
Next to a window in first class, a writer sat hunched over his laptop. He shut down the machine, vowing to get back to his journal later. At thirty, Cameron Williams was the youngest ever senior writer for the prestigious Global Weekly. The envy of the rest of the veteran staff, he either scooped them on or was assigned to the best stories in the world. Both admirers and detractors at the magazine called him Buck, because they said he was always bucking tradition and authority. Buck believed he lived a charmed life, having been eyewitness to some of the most pivotal events in history.
A year and two months earlier, his January 1 cover story had taken him to Israel to interview Chaim Rosenzweig and had resulted in the most bizarre event he had ever experienced.