The Left Behind Collection

by Tim LaHaye

  “Are you hit?”

  “I am afraid I am.”

  “Where?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Can you move?”

  “No.”

  “Can I move you?”

  “Please. You had better try.”

  Buck didn’t have time to even think about being fancy. He grabbed Tsion’s weapon and strapped it on his left shoulder, then got around behind the rabbi’s head and thrust both hands under his arms. He bent his knees and lifted, walking backward, dragging the older man through the streets. He was grateful the shooting had stopped, if only temporarily.

  Buck was cramping, having pulled his friend about an eighth of a mile, but he didn’t want to stop until they were safe in the little chamber he remembered at Bethesda. He kept looking behind him to make sure the way was clear, but when he turned back he realized Tsion was also leaving a thick trail of blood.

  Buck stopped to rest and check Tsion. He hurried around and opened the man’s jacket. There he found the source of blood. Tsion could not have been shot in the heart or he would be dead already. But he had lost a lot of blood, which had flowed from near his sternum, down his belly, under his jacket, over his crotch, and into the street.

  Tsion was pale, and his eyes threatened to roll back in his head. Buck leaned close to hear his shallow breathing. “Stay with me, friend,” he said.

  “Let me go, Cameron. Find shelter. I could do worse than die in the streets of my beloved city.”

  “You’re not going to die, Tsion. You’re going to hang on to see this victory, all right?”

  “I wish.”

  “Don’t wish! Work with me!”

  Buck whipped off his jacket and his shirt, rolled up his shirt, and stuffed it into the wound. The hole was nearly the size of Buck’s fist. “I have to get you to shelter,” he said. “You up for a few more feet?”

  “I am feeling nothing anymore, Cameron. You go. Please.”

  “I will not leave you here.”

  “Come, come. I will not be here long. We both know that.”

  “I’m taking you to the shelter.”

  “Do not do it for my sake.”

  “Then for mine.”

  Buck knew he was doing Tsion no good. The shirt popped out, and a great mass of blood gushed. Tsion moaned. Life seemed to be escaping him. His eyes were watery and pale, his lips blue. He had begun to shake all over.

  Buck wrestled him into the shelter and tried stanching the blood flow again, but Tsion reached for him with weak, fluttery hands. He finally got hold of one of Buck’s hands and pulled it toward him.

  “Do not, friend. Please. It is too late.”

  “I don’t want to lose you here, Tsion!”

  “Come close,” he whispered. “Listen to me.” He was rasping now, taking labored breaths between words. “I can say . . . with Paul, ‘I am already . . . being poured out . . . as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. . . . I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. . . . Finally, there is laid up for me . . . the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only . . . but also to all who have loved His appearing.’”

  “Tsion, don’t! Stay with me!”

  “Cameron . . . because of Jesus . . . my wife and children . . . forev—”

  Sebastian had ordered another round from the DEWs, and Rayford had to admit it was something to watch as the front line of the pervasive mass fell back in agony, and the ripple effect could be seen for miles. Razor had the fifty-calibers ready in the event of a counterattack, but none came. That just made things weirder. The city of refuge, a million strong, sat like a pea in the middle of an ocean of enemies that seemed waiting to squash it.

  Rayford’s phone chirped, and he saw on the readout it was Buck. “Talk to me.”

  Buck’s voice was thick. “He’s gone.”

  “Tsion?”

  “Hit in the chest. Nothing I could do.”

  “You need to get back here, Buck. We’ll send somebody.”

  “They’ll never get in, and I can’t leave him.”

  “Buck! Come on. He’s gone. I hate it too, but like you said, there was nothing you could do, and certainly nothing you can do now.”

  “Nobody could get in here, and I can’t imagine getting out.”

  “You all right?”

  “Didn’t foresee this, frankly.”

  “Keep your phone handy. No sense doing anything foolish now. We’ve got to be very close to the end.”

  Buck crossed Tsion’s feet at the ankles. He closed his jacket over the death wound and pulled Tsion’s hands together, interlocking the fingers at his waist. Buck smoothed Tsion’s hair, closed his eyes, and took a last look at his face. “You almost made it, friend,” he said. He draped his jacket over Tsion’s torso and face.

  Brandishing both Uzis now, he headed for Herod’s Gate, where two young rebels seemed to have a decent vantage point. It wasn’t the safest spot, and it sure didn’t fit Rayford’s advice of not doing anything foolish. But Buck didn’t know what else to do.

  Mac was on the phone from the other side of the perimeter. “Rayford, if I was to ask Sebastian to lend you to us, you think that would be doable?”

  “He’d probably be glad to get rid of me. Let me ask.”

  “What’s he need?” George said.

  “Mac? Sebastian wants to know what for.”

  “Don’t want to say.”

  “That’s not going to cut it with him; you know that.”

  “I’m supposed to tell him the truth?”

  “Never hurts.”

  Mac whispered, “I need somebody to talk to. Smitty’s about two hundred yards to the west, and Otto’s drivin’ me bats. Plus, for real, we could use some manpower here. Like I could use an ATV to check on my troops, east and west. You got as many Carpathia troops out your way as we do back here?”

  “There’s no end to them, Mac.”

  “I’m countin’ on Jesus real soon. But in the meantime, could you come?”

  CHAPTER 22

  Getting to the top of the wall of the Old City, particularly by Herod’s Gate, was no easy task. Buck didn’t feel that old, but the two rebels already there were at least fifteen years younger. They nodded to him and pointed in the distance.

  Unity Army troops were amassing on Jericho Road, on Suleiman Street, and in the garden where the traditional site of Jesus’ tomb lay. Foot soldiers stretched as far as Buck could see—from the Rockefeller Museum on his right to the Church of St. Stephen past the garden, even as far as Hel Ha Handasa.

  He and the two rebels were in plain sight, but the enemy seemed content to let them stay there. Buck wondered if Christ would return only in the middle of an active siege, or if he might appear any moment. He hoped the Remnant at Petra would not even have to know about Tsion until after the Glorious Appearing.

  Buck worried about the troops behind the Rockefeller Museum. They seemed quieter, more clandestine than the others. And they were harder to see. He detected movement, but it was not hurried. He would have to keep an eye on that area.

  Buck watched the sky. At the coming of Jesus he expected a heavy cloud cover to roll in, the sun to go dark, the earth to convulse. All that could happen in an instant, he knew, and when he allowed himself to dwell on it, the atmosphere seemed to crackle with tension.

  Sebastian told Rayford to “go ahead and hold Mac’s hand. I swear, sometimes he’s like an old woman. But let him wait. Go see Chang on your way. You can go up and in and then down and out and avoid the long way around.”

  “What’s Chang need?”

  “Just buck him up. The way he was talking to me the last few days, it was obvious he’d rather be out here than in the tech center. Tell him how crucial he is to us, all that. ’Course it’s true, you know.”

  The route Sebastian suggested was tougher than Rayford expected. He had become fairly proficient on the machine, but
the terrain was treacherous. He used the brake and lower gears more than ever and a couple of times found himself in rock formations that didn’t allow him through. He had to put the ATV in neutral, ease back down, and try another route.

  By the time he got to the tech center, he was exhausted and glad to have a break.

  A lot of quiet talk and planning seemed to be going on inside the Old City. Buck noticed several groups of particularly young rebels making their way toward the walls. He liked his perch and what he could see, but he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to put the front lines up top all the way around. And the more he watched, the clearer it became that that was precisely the decision someone had come to.

  There was still a good strike force in the center of the city as well, but it was made up of the older men and some women. The prime fighting men, the teenagers and those in their early twenties, were taking their places at the top of the wall. Something about it niggled at the back of Buck’s brain. There was a vulnerability about it, an all-or-nothing quality. He liked the idea of having options, but that was just for himself. He wasn’t charged with defending the whole place.

  Chang had resigned himself to his role, but still he appreciated Rayford’s comments and the fact that he had taken the time to stop in. Naomi came by, and the three sat before Chang’s screen.

  “We all believe the Millennium starts soon,” Rayford said. “No later than tomorrow. That’s why it’s important the populace here not know what’s happened to Tsion.”

  “Tsion?”

  “He was killed.”

  “No!”

  Rayford told what he had heard from Buck. Naomi hid her face in her hands, and while Chang wanted to comfort her, he too was overcome. “And Buck is all right?”

  “So far, but they were in a very precarious location, and Buck still is.”

  “Can we get him out?”

  “Wouldn’t be worth the risk. He’s pretty self-sufficient. Like everybody else, he’s trying to keep Jews alive and, of course, himself, until the event the world has been anticipating for thousands of years.”

  Chang pointed to the screen, and they watched the latest GCNN newscast.

  “Global Community Supreme Potentate Nicolae J. Carpathia has assembled the largest army in the history of mankind. As you can see in this aerial view, the One World Unity Army consists of all the soldiers, livestock, rolling stock, and munitions available anywhere. The fighting force of untold millions covers the plains of Israel from the Plain of Megiddo in the north to Bozrah in Edom in the south and stretches east to west almost the entire breadth of what was once known as the Holy Land.

  “The ground forces are supported by air bases as far away as Cyprus and by aircraft carriers in the Mediterranean Sea, and troop transport ships in both the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Aqaba off the Red Sea.

  “At this hour one-third of Carpathia’s forces have surrounded Petra in Edom to the southeast in Jordan, hideout of the Judah-ite rebels. Global Community Security and Intelligence Director Suhail Akbar says Tsion Ben-Judah himself is ensconced at that location, and while the goal of the Unity Army is annihilation, there may be value in taking the leader alive.

  “The other two-thirds of the Unity Army is poised to overtake the city of Jerusalem. Potentate Carpathia himself reports that nearly half the city has been occupied and that it is just a matter of time before the Old City is overrun.

  “Earlier today in a press conference held while on horseback, the potentate was upbeat about the potential outcome.”

  Carpathia’s face appeared on the monitor. “We are confident that these are the last two rebel enclaves in the world,” he said, “and that once they have been thoroughly defeated and our enemies scattered, we will realize what we have so long dreamed of: an entire world of peace and harmony. There is no place in a true global community for rebellion. If our government was anything but benevolent or did not have the attitude of ‘citizen first,’ there might be cause for dissention. But all we have ever attempted to do was create a utopia for society.

  “It is most unfortunate that it comes to this, that we have to resort to bloodshed to achieve our goals. But we will do what we have to do.”

  Someone asked, “Doesn’t the size of your global army seem like overkill?”

  “An excellent question,” Carpathia cooed, his leathers squeaking as he reset himself on his horse. “No effort in the cause of world peace is wasted. The rebel factions have proved surprisingly formidable. We have decided at the highest levels to be sure we leave nothing to chance this time. We will use whatever we need, everything that is at our disposal, to succeed.”

  “Is there any truth to the speculation that you are overarmed in anticipation of running into surprising support for the opposition, that perhaps their God might intervene on their behalf?”

  Carpathia chuckled. “I do not worry about fairy tales, but even if they did have supernatural help, they would be no match for our fighting machine. By our numbers alone, even unarmed, we could win any war by continuing to replenish our ranks. But we also happen to be fully equipped with the best and latest technology.”

  “Why not win this war all at once? What’s the delay?”

  “I am a man of peace. I always believe first in diplomacy and negotiation. The window of opportunity for settling this peacefully is always open. I had hoped that the enemies of peace would be persuaded by our size and would come to the bargaining table. But our patience is running out. They seem markedly uninterested in any reasonable solution, and we are prepared to use any means necessary. So it is just a matter of time now.”

  By midday, with the sun riding high, Buck was famished. He gingerly made his way down from the wall when volunteers brought foodstuffs in for the fighters. He gulped fruit and bread and cheese, and climbed up again. The army seemed to be taking a lunch break too. Buck wished the rebels had larger weapons. Maybe a surprise attack would do some damage. On the other hand, a sleeping giant was a gentler giant, and perhaps it made sense to leave things as they were.

  He hated the idea of just waiting for the other side to attack, but with the front lines atop the wall now, at least that wouldn’t be a surprise when it came.

  Rayford started down the back side of Petra, finding it even more harrowing than coming up. He had stayed with Chang and Naomi a little longer than he had planned, so he assumed Mac would be looking for him and that George thought he had already arrived.

  From his vantage point he had a good view of the army a mile off. He was reaching for his phone to reassure Mac when it became clear something had happened. The front lines were recoiling again, so George must have initiated another burst of the directed energy weapons.

  This time, however, despite the ensuing chaos, the Unity Army didn’t take it sitting down. Rayford heard the booms of retaliatory fire, like thunder from a storm head a hundred miles wide. He knew enough about munitions to know that Carpathia’s forces were a little far away to be using the mortar cannons and shooting at high angles. He guessed the shells would drop short of the Petra perimeter.

  He was wrong. Maybe their cannons were bigger than the typical unrifled short barrels. The shells flew past the perimeter and began dropping all around him. When one exploded right in front of him, Rayford was nearly pitched off the ATV. Grabbing for the handlebar with his free hand, he saw his phone go flying, bouncing a hundred yards down the rocky steep.

  And now his vehicle was out of control. He bounced high off the seat and realized he was soaring through the air with only his hands attached to the ATV. He came down hard, and the contraption bounced and rolled sideways. To hang on or not was the only thing on his mind, and quickly that option was gone too. The four-wheeler hit yet again, ripping his grip away. As he bounced and rolled, he kept picking up the sight of the vehicle disintegrating as it smashed into rocks all the way into a valley.

  Rayford reminded himself not to try to break his own fall. He tucked hands and arms in and tried to relax, fighting his natural
instinct for all he was worth. The grade was too steep and his speed too fast to control himself. The best he could wish for was a soft landing place.

  A shell deafened him from about ten feet to his right, knocking him into a sideways roll. Rayford felt his temple smash into a sharp rock and was aware of what sounded like rushing water as he rolled toward thorny overgrowth. Scary as the thorns looked, they had to be softer than what he had been hitting.

  Rayford was able to shift his body weight as he slowed and backed into the thorns. It was then he realized what the liquid sound was. With each beat of his heart, galloping now, his life’s blood spurted six feet from the wound in his temple.

  He pressed his palm hard against his head and felt the gush against his hand. He pressed with all his might and felt he might be containing it somewhat. But Rayford was in danger now—mortal danger. No one knew exactly where he was. He was without communications or transportation. He didn’t even want to inventory his injuries, because regardless, they were minor compared to the hole in his head. He had to get help—and fast—or he would be dead in minutes.

  Rayford’s arms were gashed, and he felt sharp pains in both knees and one ankle. He reached with his free hand to pull up his pant leg and wished he hadn’t. Not only had something sliced the flesh from his ankle, but something had taken part of the bone too.

  Could he walk? Dare he try? He was too far from anywhere to crawl. He waited for his pulse to abate and for his equilibrium to return. He had to be a mile from Mac and his people, and he could not see them. There was no going back up. He rolled up onto his feet, squatting, one hand desperately trying to keep himself from bleeding to death.

  Rayford tried to stand. Only one leg worked, and it was the one with the nearly totaled ankle. He may have broken a shinbone in the other. He tried to hop, but the incline was so great, he found himself pitching forward again. And now he was out of control one more time, trying to hop to keep from falling but picking up speed with every bounce. Whatever he did, he could not take his hand from his temple, and he dared not land on one more hard thing. “Lord, now would be a most appropriate time for you to come.”