The Left Behind Collection

by Tim LaHaye

  And Nicolae was not happy. “Let us roll! The fools are singing!” He cursed and cursed again. “They sing in the face of their own deaths!”

  The caravan began rolling, the cross above it bouncing waves of light off the dust that ensued. “Take me to the highest and closest point,” Nicolae ordered, “with our munitions settling in behind where the angle is optimal. I shall stand on the roof of the vehicle so all can see me: my troops to be inspired, and the enemy so they know the author of their doom.”

  At the mention of Carpathia’s intended destination, Rayford glanced again up the slope to where hundreds of thousands swayed and sang and looked down. The immense cross shone on the entire hillside, as if pointing the enemy to the spot where God Himself wanted them.

  Rayford had to wonder if any in Petra had second thoughts, doubts. He was happy to say he had none. He had come too far. His own pride and laziness had cost him his wife and son at the Rapture. He’d felt responsible for the fact that his own daughter had shared his jaded view of people of faith and had followed his example, thumbing her nose at God.

  And while he was grateful beyond expression for his own salvation and Chloe’s, seeing her and her husband martyred was merely the capstone of the tragedy that resulted from his having missed the truth in the first place. So many friends and loved ones had suffered over the past seven years. New friends, old friends, a new wife, spiritual mentors, dear compatriots had been injured, killed, tortured for their faith.

  Yet God had proved faithful and true to His Word. Every prophecy had been fulfilled. While there had to be those who wondered why the Lord tarried even now and whether there was any sense or logic to allowing Antichrist to reach the very boundary of the city of refuge, Rayford found himself simply trusting. God had His plans, His ways, His strategy. Only when Rayford stopped questioning God had he finally come to grips with the confusing, sometimes maddening, ways of God—which the Scriptures said were “not our ways.”

  Some things still didn’t make sense, and many would not become clear, he knew, until he saw Jesus face-to-face.

  The evil motorcade thundered within yards of Rayford. He gunned his ATV engine and joined them, a couple of vehicles behind Carpathia’s and ahead of the rumbling armament carriers. A general tried to wave him off. Rayford smiled and waved back. The general reached for a weapon from an aide and aimed it out the window. Rayford winked at him, and the man opened fire.

  The general blanched when the burp of bullets he’d fired at point-blank range seemed to go right through Rayford.

  “No shooting!” Carpathia screamed. “Ignore any enemy outside the walls of the city!”

  Abdullah studied his copy of the location charts and slowly picked his way through narrow pathways and crowds until he found the area where George Sebastian’s wife, Priscilla, should be with her daughter, Beth Ann, and Rayford’s grandson, Kenny Bruce. Once there, he had to ask several people, but finally he found them.

  Priscilla had Beth Ann next to her, holding her hand, and her free arm held a lanky, incongruously sleeping Kenny, draped over her shoulder.

  “Let me take him,” Abdullah said.

  “Oh, would you, Mr. Smith? He’s getting so heavy.”

  “Come here, big boy,” Abdullah said, taking him in his arms. He gently put Kenny’s head on his shoulder and began to rock him, but when Abdullah also tried to quietly join in the singing, the boy roused.

  “Uncle Smitty,” he said.

  “Hi, Kenny.”

  “Jesus comin’,” the boy said.

  “Yes, He is, buddy. He sure is.”

  CHAPTER 11

  At long last, there was nothing more Chang could do. It seemed likely that he and Zeke were in the same boat. Both might have to find a new trade or be out of work for the next thousand years of Christ’s rule on earth.

  Chang knew where everyone was, had them all in place.

  Abdullah was back in the fold.

  Chaim and the elders were with the people, waiting and watching.

  Hannah and Leah had shut down the empty infirmary and were outside, as were Lionel and Ming—the Co-op finally dark.

  Mac was in the air, Rayford on the ground, and Sebastian, Otto, Razor, and Ree should be entering Petra at that very moment, joining their own people and urging the rest of the rebel soldiers to do the same.

  Chang had patched the enemy’s radio transmissions to Mac and Rayford and wore an earphone himself so he could stay posted. He sat back and sighed, then stood quickly. It was time to find Naomi and get outside where they belonged.

  “Taking the rest of the day off?” she said, taking his hand when Chang found her.

  “The rest of my life,” he said.

  Mac kept an eye on Sebastian’s vehicle and the hundreds of remnant rebels following him into Petra. “Looks like they’re all safe, Ray,” he reported. “Ever’body’s home and accounted for but you and me.”

  “Wish I could be with Kenny right now,” Rayford said. “Priss says he was asking for his dad earlier, and all she could think to tell him was that they’d see him tomorrow.”

  “Good thinkin’. Hey, Ray, ol’ Nick’s leaving nothing to chance.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s got the rest of the troops fanning out to surround the city.”

  “I didn’t hear that order, Mac.”

  “Musta been something he decided on before we could hear him.”

  “The mounted troops must just be in the way. Not to mention all the meteor craters.”

  “Some of the trails on this side are navigable. Remember they used to have donkeys bring tourists in.”

  “Rally the planes,” Rayford heard. Carpathia’s voice.

  “What’s he doing, Mac?”

  “I’ll watch, but it looks like he’s bringing everything he’s got in this region.”

  “A third of the total, just like the Bible says.”

  “He can’t get out from under the prophecies, can he, Ray?”

  As Rayford surged up toward Petra in the evil procession, he heard jets screaming. “Fighter-bombers?”

  “Nah,” Mac said. “Fighters but not bombers. Guess they know better than that. He’ll have to learn the hard way that the guns don’t work here either.”

  When Carpathia’s Humvee reached the last particularly steep stretch, it was nearly pointed to the sky. “Find me a place,” he told the driver, “where I can stand on the roof and see all my troops on this side and can also see the enemy.”

  “I believe we’re almost there, Excellency.”

  Rayford left the formation and shot right about twenty yards to where he had a good view. He shut down his engine and swung his left leg over the seat, using the ATV as a bench. “Attack, you coward,” he whispered, hoping that would bring Jesus from heaven. Yeah, I know. He’ll be here in His own time.

  “How’s this, Your Highness?”

  Rayford heard the squeak of Carpathia’s leathers as he moved to look this way and that. “Perfect.”

  His door opened and simultaneously generals opened their doors and piled out the back. One held Carpathia’s door and offered his hand so the potentate could mount the hood. But Nicolae ignored him. He leaped onto the front of the truck and stepped atop the roof. The vehicle was at such an angle that he began sliding. He caught himself, loudly drew his sword, and raised it above his head. “Lights!”

  A beacon pulled by a Jeep lit him with a harsh, garish beam that cast a one-hundred-foot shadow on the rocks behind him.

  “Loyal soldiers of the Global Community Unity Army, observe your commander in chief!”

  The singing inside Petra ceased and the people peered down at him.

  “You are privileged to be part of the greatest fighting force ever assembled on the face of the earth! You will be lauded for time immemorial for the victory we are about to win. The plan is foolproof, our resources unlimited, your leader divine. Once we have crushed the resistance here, you will occupy the city and enjoy the spoils while I proceed to
Jerusalem to lay siege to it.

  “And if there really is a God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and if He truly has a Son worthy of facing me in combat, I shall destroy Him too! When I have been informed that all elements are in place and at the ready, be prepared to advance upon Petra on my command. Leave no man, woman, or child alive. The victory is mine, says your living lord and risen king!”

  From out of the back of Carpathia’s vehicle stumbled Leon Fortunato, still in his ridiculous regalia. He failed in his first attempt to climb the hood, then finally hiked his skirts and clambered aboard. Stepping onto the windshield to mount the hood, he stepped on the hem of his robe and had to back down and take another run at it.

  When he was finally sharing the roof with Carpathia, Leon reached under his robe and produced a small decanter and began sloshing it about. “Praise to the resurrected lord,” he chanted, and then began to sing, “Hail Carpathia, our lord and risen king.”

  “Leon, what are you doing?” Carpathia demanded.

  “Leading the assembled in worship, Highness.”

  “This is a battle, man! And lose the holy water!”

  Leon bowed and apologized and loudly stepped down to the hood, then slid off the side onto the ground. “Oh yes!” he said. “Almost forgot. I was to tell you that everyone is in place and at the ready.”

  “Get in the car, Leon.”

  “By your grace, Excellency.”

  As soon as Leon’s door was shut, Carpathia stomped twice on the roof. Nothing happened. He stomped twice again. Still nothing. “Go!” he shouted. “Go!”

  “You want me to drive with you on the roof, Potentate?” the driver said. “I thought I was supposed to stay—”

  “Go! Now!”

  The vehicle’s engine raced, and when it began virtually climbing the wall, it was all Carpathia could do to keep his balance. “Attack!” he screamed. “Attack! Attack! Attack!”

  Rayford watched Carpathia’s vehicle bounce up and over while planes let fly their bullets. As far as Rayford could see, the Unity Army surged while the remnant peering over the wall stood in silence, holding hands.

  The siege was deafening. Jet engines, Jeeps, cars, trucks, Hummers, transports, armaments, munitions, rifle fire, machine-gun fire, cannons, grenades, rockets—you name it. But when the panoramic cross disappeared from the sky, the world went black again. It reminded Rayford of what he had heard about the darkness that had descended upon New Babylon. The only sound was the clicking of weapons that would not fire. Nothing produced light. No headlights. No matches or lighters.

  “Light!” Carpathia screeched. But everything was dark. “Fire!” he raged. Still nothing. “Take the infidels by hand!”

  But the soldiers could see nothing and would not know whether their victim was friend or foe. The clicking tapered and then quit. All Rayford heard were frustrated shouts and the nickering of thousands of horses waiting below.

  And then, as if God had thrown the switch in heaven, light.

  But that wasn’t enough of a word for it. This was not light from above that cast shadows. This was a brightness that invaded every crevice and cranny. Rayford had to shield his eyes, but it did no good, as the light came from everywhere.

  It exposed a Unity Army in chaos. On the plains, horses bucked and reared, whinnying and throwing riders. On the hillsides leading to Petra, soldiers examined weapons that did not work. On the border of the city, Carpathia stood exposed atop his personnel carrier, sword at his side, stared at by saints standing side by side.

  “You can see them now! Charge! Attack! Kill them!”

  But as his petrified, lethargic soldiers slowly turned back to the matter at hand, the brilliant multicolored cloud cover parted and rolled back like a scroll from horizon to horizon. Rayford found himself on his knees on the ground, hands and head lifted.

  Heaven opened and there, on a white horse, sat Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the living God.

  Rayford could not explain how he could see his Savior so clearly. It was as if He appeared within inches of Rayford, and he knew that had to be the experience of everyone everywhere.

  Jesus’ eyes shone with a conviction like a flame of fire, and He held His majestic head high. He wore a robe down to the feet so brilliantly white it was incandescent and bore writing, something in a language wholly unfamiliar to Rayford and something else he easily understood. On His robe at the thigh a name was written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. Jesus was girded about the chest with a golden band. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow. His feet were like fine brass, as if refined in a furnace.

  Jesus had in His right hand seven stars, and His countenance was like the sun shining in its strength.

  The armies of heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, followed Him on white horses.

  An angel appeared in the light and cried with a loud voice, saying to all the birds in the midst of heaven, “Come and gather together for the supper of the great God, that you may eat the flesh of kings, the flesh of captains, the flesh of mighty men, the flesh of horses and of those who sit on them, and the flesh of all people, free and slave, both small and great.”

  “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” Jesus said, “the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End, the Almighty.”

  When Rayford first heard the voice of Jesus, he understood what John meant in Revelation when he compared it to both a trumpet and the sound of many waters. It pierced him, reaching to his heart. It was as if he was not hearing with his ears but rather that the voice came alive within him and communicated with his very soul. Rayford was certain every believer on earth heard Jesus in the same way, deep within his or her own being.

  This was the One who is and who was and who had finally come, “the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler over the kings of the earth. This was Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and has made us kings and priests to His God and Father, to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever.”

  And with those very first words, tens of thousands of Unity Army soldiers fell dead, simply dropping where they stood, their bodies ripped open, blood pooling in great masses. “I am He who lives, and was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore. Amen. And I have the keys of Hades and of Death.”

  With that Carpathia scrambled down from his perch and slid in the passenger-side window. “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!” he shouted, but the driver must have been dead. “Leon, drive! Get this carcass out!” The driver’s door opened and a body flopped out. Soon the vehicle was bouncing down the hill toward the desert.

  “I am the Son of Man, the Son of God, the Amen, the Faithful and True Witness, the Beginning of the creation of God. I am the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, the One who prevailed to open the scroll and to loose its seven seals.”

  With every word, more and more enemies of God dropped dead, torn to pieces. Horses panicked and bolted. The living screamed in terror and ran about like madmen—some escaping for a time, others falling at the words of the Lord Christ.

  “I am the Lamb that was slain and yet who lives. I am the Shepherd who leads His sheep to living fountains of waters. I am the God who will wipe away every tear from your eyes. I am your Salvation and Strength. I am the Christ who has come for the accuser of the brethren, who accused them before our God day and night, the one who has been cast down.”

  For miles lay the carcasses of the Unity Army. The manic, crazed survivors ran and staggered and drove over and through them, fleeing for their lives.

  “I am the Word of God. I am Jesus. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, the Bright and Morning Star.”

  It was hard to kneel and look up, but somehow Enoch found a way. And all his parishioners did the same. He couldn’t articulate his feelings, even in the quietness of his own heart and mind. To see Jesus, clad in white, riding the white horse, and speaking with the authority of the ages, and knowing that He was slaying the enemy in the Holy Land at the same time . .
. it was just too much to take in.

  Enoch believed that Jesus was the lover of his soul, and seeing Him return on the clouds, knowing He was there to set up His thousand-year kingdom reign, completed Enoch somehow. The psalmist said that as a deer pants after water, so the soul pants after God. Enoch somehow knew that his panting was over. His Savior had come.

  He was only vaguely aware that neighbors had burst from their homes in terror, screaming and calling to each other. The light blinded them and they ran to and fro, some jumping in cars and careening down the street. Enoch knew that the news the next day—if there would be news—would report hundreds of thousands of employees of the ruler of this world having mysteriously been slain at the time of the phenomenon in the sky.

  And the ruler of this world was himself now running for his life.

  The all-encompassing, pervasive light that preceded the opening of heaven had fully awakened Kenny Bruce, and Abdullah quickly turned him to face the sky. When Jesus appeared, Abdullah awkwardly knelt, careful not to drop the boy.

  “Me too, Uncle Smitty,” Kenny said. And he too knelt, first intertwining his tiny fingers as if to pray, then reaching out to Jesus.

  “My Lord and my God,” Abdullah said, and Kenny repeated him.

  “Jesus!” Kenny cried, standing and waving. “Jesus!”

  Rayford stood atop the seat of his ATV, his attention divided between the Lord on the clouds and the Unity Army breaking for cover across the sandy plains. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. As the words of Jesus trumpeted throughout the earth, they could not be avoided. He could not be ignored.

  Something about Jesus’ appearing struck Rayford so deeply that he was glad no one else was around. He would not have been able to utter a sound. There were no words for the thrill, the magnetism, the overwhelming perfection of the moment. Jesus was the culmination of his whole life, and not just since he had been regenerated. Rayford realized that Jesus was whom his soul had been seeking since he was old enough to think and reason. Jesus was the source and the point of all life.