by Tim LaHaye
“Isn’t it? Well, I promised my father we would be back at the tech center at least by sundown. It’s near the amphitheater, so we’ll have to hurry.”
“Am I going to get to hear your story?” he said.
“Of course. And I want to hear yours. Maybe after breakfast tomorrow.”
Chang found the tech center much as he might have expected, except that it was so incongruous to see the massive network of computers in a building cut from rock. By that time, however, he was much more impressed with Naomi than with hardware and software.
“Can you find your way to your quarters?” she said. “We retire early here and rise with the sun.”
“I can, but I’d rather not,” he said. “I think I need a guide just one more time, you know, being my first night here.”
“I can find you one. Hold on.”
“Naomi!” he said. “I’m kidding. Of course I can find it. I’d just rather you walked me there.”
“In my cul—”
“Inappropriate, of course. How about my walking you home?”
“That would be acceptable and even chivalrous. My father is waiting for me, and it will be dark by the time I arrive. He will appreciate that I had an escort.”
Like Abdullah, Naomi’s father tended a small fire outside their place. He was a tall, rotund man with a thick, curly beard. Chang approached shyly, took off his cap in the darkness, and bowed. “Chang Wong,” he said.
Naomi’s father grasped him by the shoulders and pressed his right cheek to Chang’s, then his left. “Eleazar Tiberias,” he said with a great, deep voice. “Perhaps you know my lake.”
Chang scratched his head and looked at Naomi, which seemed to bring no end of mirth to her and her father.
“I have heard so much about you, young man,” the elder said. “I am grateful to you for looking after my daughter, and I look forward with great anticipation to getting to know you better.”
Chang breathed deeply of the crisp night air on his way to his quarters. Abdullah’s fire was just smoldering now, and the smoke permeated Chang’s clothes. He felt so free, so happy, and so enamored that he was sure he would not be able to sleep. He knelt by his bed, hardly knowing what to pray. He tried to remember the verse Naomi quoted, but all he could come up with was “Great is Your faithfulness,” so he repeated that over and over as he climbed into the cot. Through the open window he stared at skies so clear he felt as if he could see every star in the universe. But after fewer than sixty seconds he saw nothing but Naomi in his dreams.
Mac studied Rayford’s scribblings. “You copied every last word of this conversation, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Rayford said. “Clearly the clue is in that Colorado business.”
“What do you remember about it, Ray?”
“It was so long ago, Mac. Just one of those summer things you do when the kids are little. Raymie wasn’t even born yet. It was just the three of us.”
“Yeah, but after she tells you what to say to Buck and Kenny, she says something about this being her fault. And then the jogging stuff, she’s not serious about that, is she?”
“Being thirty miles from home? Nah. Trying to mislead the GC, no doubt, but they’re not going to fall for that.”
“She promises not to give anything away, and you know, I believe every word of that.”
“Me too. They won’t get anything out of Chloe.”
“So she says the trip was ‘so special and I wish everybody could go there again.’ But you say it was just the three of you.”
“Right. So she, what, wants everybody in San Diego to go to Colorado?”
“Can’t be,” Mac said. “She says herself she knows the GC is listening in. But she says her dream is that ‘we could all go there right now, as soon as possible.’ Where did you go in Colorado, Ray?”
Rayford shook his head. “I don’t remember. Where do you go there?”
“Been there lots of times,” Mac said. “What cities were you in?”
“Just the Springs and Denver, I think.”
“You do the cog railway thing?”
“Pikes Peak, sure.”
“The place with all those big rock formations?”
“Yeah, Garden of the Gods.”
“That cowboy place, the ranch?”
“Flying W, of course. Wouldn’t miss that.”
“Air Force Academy?”
“Drove by it but didn’t have time. We were going to a concert.”
“Where?”
“Outside of Denver. And it was outside too. Seemed like we climbed forever, and I had to carry Chloe. I was so out of breath at that altitude.”
“Red Rocks?”
“Yes! That was the place. Some country-music deal. Chloe loved it.”
“You got it yet, Ray?”
“Got what?”
“What she’s trying to tell you.”
“No, but apparently you do, Mac. Spill it.”
“Red Rocks.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Oh! Petra! The GC is on to the safe house, and we’ve got to get those people out and to Petra.”
In the morning Abdullah ushered Chang toward an area near where the elders’ council met daily. Fresh manna covered the ground all along the way, and many were out gathering their breakfasts. “I will not be joining you today,” Abdullah said, “as Miss Naomi has need of me in the computer center. She requests that you come and help when you are free as well.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid there is.”
Chang stopped. Abdullah sounded so sad, so ominous. “What is it?”
“I’d rather not spoil your breakfast, Master Chang.”
“It would spoil my breakfast? I am meeting with my heroes, and I am here where I can go where I please and do what I want, and still there is news that intrudes enough to ruin my day?”
“Please hurry. Let us not be late.”
“I need to know, Mr. Smith. Tell me it’s not Chloe Williams.”
“She is alive for the moment, and except for the fact that the Global Community News Network is spreading the most heinous lies about her, everyone involved speculates that the GC will not execute her as long as they think they can get information from her.”
Chang shook his head as they continued walking. “So she would be better off to pretend to be about to cave, to at least be considering giving them something, than to make plain from the beginning that she will not.”
“Have you met Mrs. Williams?”
“Of course not.”
“But you have dealt with her by phone and via the Internet enough to know—”
“Her personality. Yes. Not only will she not be betraying a thing, but she will also enjoy telling them so.”
“My fear,” Abdullah said, “is that this will shorten her potential benefit to the GC and thus shorten her life.”
“Surely the San Diego Trib Force is planning a raid.”
“I do not know. Knowing Cameron, it must be all he can do to keep from trying to blast in there on his own. George Sebastian will want to lead such an effort, and he’s the man for it, but this is not like surprising a band of amateurs in the woods, as they did in Greece. You can imagine that the San Diego GC is alert to just such an effort.”
“You’re not telling me everything, are you, Mr. Smith?”
“I should save some for you to learn at the tech center, not that Naomi is eager to tell you either.”
Chang stopped again and put a hand on Abdullah’s shoulder. “Forgive my familiarity, but there is no point in withholding information. Please, I must know. Don’t make me go in there unprepared.”
Abdullah appeared to study the ground. He stooped and scooped a handful of manna but just held it. “The GCNN says Chloe gave up Albie and that he committed suicide rather than be taken in.”
“Come on, Mr. Smith. We know that’s not true. She would never—”
Abdullah took Chang’s elbow and urged him to keep moving. “No one suspects Chloe of having anything to do with it, and anyone who knows Albie does not believe he killed himself.”
“Then what is the probl—?”
“There is evidence that Albie may be dead. He and Mr. McCullum had grown close, as you know, and when word reached Mac, he tried several different ways to get in touch with Albie.”
“It could be coincidence. He may have been away from his phone. Maybe he—”
“He is never away from his phone. Mac has always been able to reach him.”
“But Mac and Captain Steele should be in San Diego by now. Maybe the satellite phone acts up at that distance and—”
Now it was Abdullah’s turn to stop. “We are almost there. Around the next bend, Drs. Ben-Judah and Rosenzweig await you. Mr. Tiberias will make the introductions and attend to the meal. Meals are short here because we eat only one food and enjoy springwater with it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. I am going to go believing that Albie will still call back.”
“All right, if you insist on knowing. . . . Albie’s phone was answered, but not by Albie. As you may know, he was on a dangerous mission and may have erred terribly by going alone. The man who answered the phone told Mac that if he wanted to see his friend one more time, he should watch the news. We have watched and recorded that newscast, Master Chang. Naomi will show it to you after breakfast. Now go.”
At 9 p.m. in San Diego, Chloe lay whimpering on the steel bed in her cell. With the setting of the sun the big room had faded to darkness, and now the only light came from the blaring TV. No one had visited her since the phony custodian had come back for what was left of his phone. She had heard her segment of the news a dozen more times—only because she had no choice—but she refused to watch again.
She didn’t care about the lies. No Judah-ites would believe any of that, and if they did, Buck could straighten them out in the next issue of The Truth. But Albie, poor precious Albie. She hoped and prayed that was a lie too, but how could they have so quickly concocted such a vivid image of a dead man who looked so much like him?
Chloe had not eaten since seven o’clock the night before. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. She rocked, trying to ease the pain in her stomach. She tried to comfort herself by imagining the operation George and Buck and her father had to be planning that very minute.
Chloe tried to force from her mind thoughts of Kenny, because she so longed for him that her arms ached. Would she ever see him again? How would Buck answer their son’s questions about her? Who would take care of Kenny when Buck was away?
She wondered if sleep would ease the hunger pangs and whether it was possible to sleep. She had learned enough about such things from George to know that any attempt to free her would have to come when the GC least expected it, so it could be days, maybe longer. She had to learn to sleep. Somehow Chloe had to keep her sanity in spite of how she was treated.
Any vestige of prisoners’ rights had disappeared with the rise of Nicolae Carpathia. Here we are, a year to go to the end of history, and I could be shot in my cell for not bearing the mark.
Lonely, hungry, aching for her loved ones, grieving for Albie, Chloe closed her eyes in the darkness, covered her ears, and hummed to drown out the TV. That, she realized, was why she didn’t hear the night matron until she was standing at the cage. Chloe flinched and sat up quickly, terrified of the stocky silhouette.
CHAPTER 8
Naomi’s father greeted Chang the same way he had the night before, cheek to cheek, and while Chang bowed, he did not remove his cap in the light of day. “A word to the wise,” Elder Tiberias rumbled in his ear during their embrace, “just about any culture considers it impolite not to remove one’s hat in the presence of one’s elder.”
“Forgive me, sir,” Chang whispered, “but removing it would reveal a disgrace.”
Eleazar Tiberias shut his eyes and nodded knowingly, as if remembering that he had been told of Chang’s dual marks. “I understand.”
The older man reached for a basket filled with manna. “Dr. Ben-Judah will be a few moments, but let me introduce you to Dr. Rosenzweig. Come, come.”
Chang followed the big man into his quarters, where he was surprised to see the diminutive Chaim Rosenzweig, who looked more like Albert Einstein than the famous Micah who had stood up to the potentate. Rosenzweig had apparently been in Petra long enough for his hair to grow back, his pigmentation to return to normal, and to look like his old self.
Rosenzweig leaped to his feet, a bundle of energy for such an elderly man. “So you are Chang Wong, the genius mole!”
“Well, I—”
“Do not feign modesty, my young friend. God has used you. Oh, he has used you so mightily! Ah, the rewards that await you in heaven.” He took Chang’s arm and pressed it against his own side. “Come, let us wait outside for Dr. Ben-Judah. Eleazar, join us, please. Dr. Ben-Judah, as you know, is the leader here, though he is my junior by many years. Oh yes, at least twenty years. He was a student of mine many, many years ago. It is true. Well, Mr. Wong, welcome, welcome, welcome. It is unfortunate you join us on a day of sadness over the loss of one of our members and the capture of another, but we are happy that you are with us.”
From a distance, Chang saw the commotion as Dr. Ben-Judah approached. He was flanked by several of the other elders, and they were coming from the direction of the tech center.
Dr. Rosenzweig confided, “Those men will not be joining us, and they are not bodyguards per se. None are needed here, of course. But Dr. Ben-Judah is so popular and beloved, if he is not surrounded by the elders, he would never get anywhere. Everyone wants a moment of his time, but those moments add up. They just want to express their appreciation and their love, but he has so much to do and such a heavy schedule.”
“I’m honored that he would take a little time with me,” Chang said. “Like everyone else, I want a moment of his time.”
“Oh, trust me, young friend, I know him well, and he has been looking forward to this.”
The other elders peeled away as Dr. Ben-Judah arrived. “I am so sorry to have postponed and then to be late on top of that,” he said. “But it could not be helped. Well, someone introduce me to our newest resident.”
Eleazar Tiberias chuckled loudly as Dr. Rosenzweig said, “Oh, I believe you know who this is. Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah, may I present Chang Wong.”
Dr. Ben-Judah eschewed the customary Jewish greeting, first returning Chang’s bow, then stepping forward to embrace the boy tightly. “Sit, sit,” he said. “Sit right here between Dr. Rosenzweig and me. You know, years ago he was my prof—”
“I have told him all about it, Tsion,” Chaim said. “Let us pray and eat.”
Tsion leaned close and whispered, though loud enough for Chaim’s benefit too, “The elderly have no patience!”
Tsion held one of Chang’s hands and reached across him to take one of Chaim’s too. “Eleazar, join us and take a hand, please.”
As the four sat holding hands, Dr. Ben-Judah lifted his face and Chang bowed his head. “Great Father, creator, master, and friend,” he began, “as we begin yet another day leading to the glorious appearing of our Lord and Savior, we bless your name. We thank you for our daily bread. And we are humbled as we think of where we were so few scant years ago. Mr. Tiberias, a businessman and devout man of religion. Dr. Rosenzweig, a statesman and scholar and agnostic. I, a student of the Bible but blind to the truth. And Mr. Wong, a brilliant young atheist. Who but a good God would give us all a second chance and redeem us by the blood of your precious Son? We praise you in his name.”
Tsion held out the basket of manna to Chang, who took a small handful. The older men all took goodly portions, and Tsion said, “Allow me to show you how I eat my daily provision. I am grateful that mealtime does not consume the time it once did, though I confess there are days when I miss everything that used to go with it. Often my meals
here last but five minutes.”
He allowed the manna to settle in his right palm, wrapped his fingers gently around it, and formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “Like peanuts, no?” he said, smiling, and tapped his thumb knuckle on his chin until the wafers popped into his mouth. “A handful,” he said, chewing, “and I am nourished.”
Mr. Tiberias stood and gathered leftovers into the basket, then tossed them to the wind, where they scattered on the ground.
“Tell me, Dr. Ben-Judah,” Chang said, “is it true about Albie?”
“That he is dead? I am afraid so,” Tsion said. “Self-inflicted, no, none of us believes that.”
After a few moments, Chaim said, “Tsion, we really must be going.”
“Oh, sir,” Chang said, “I hesitate to ask because I have been told by everyone how busy you are and how everyone wants a bit of your time. . . .”
“Please, Chang. We feel so indebted to you. Ask anything of me, and if I can comply, I will.”
“I need just a moment alone, sir. No offense, Dr. Rosenzweig.”
“None taken. Mr. Tiberias and I will prepare for our meeting.”
Tsion took Chang behind an outcropping of rock. “What can I do for you?”
Chang took off his cap, exposing the 30 emblazoned on his forehead and the thin, pink line where the Global Community biochip had been inserted. He caught the pity in the older man’s eyes.
“I confess it is strange, Mr. Wong, to see that when I also see the mark of the believer on you.”
“I can’t stand to look in the mirror,” Chang said. “I don’t dare take off my hat here. Yes, it may have kept me alive and yes, I had access where no believer would have dreamed. But it mocks me, curses me. I hate it.”
“It was forced on you, son. It was not your choice or your fau—”
“I know all that, sir, but I want it gone. Is that possible?”
“I do not know.”
“Sir, I study your teachings every day. You say that with God all things are possible. Why would he not remove this now?”
“I do not know, Chang. I just do not want to promise that he will.”