by Tim LaHaye
Besides the dizziness that came with trying to stand for the first time in hours, Rayford found himself wholly dependent upon the small but wiry Abdullah Smith and the broader, stronger, and younger Razor. Leah had brought everything, it seemed, but crutches. She did her bit to help too, but she could not support him and mainly directed traffic, trying to keep his most vulnerable injuries isolated.
Rayford could put zero weight on the broken shinbone, splint or not. Hopping was out of the question, so the two men had to bear all his weight as they moved him to the ATV. Even his good foot touching the ground occasionally sent shock waves of pain throughout the rest of his body. The anesthetic in his temple was wearing off, and Leah had decided not to add more.
Straddling the ATV was a delicate operation. Leah rolled up a towel and bunched it under the knee of his broken leg in an attempt to keep his foot from touching the vehicle. That left him able to balance himself only with his good foot and leg, with his painful arms latched tightly to Razor’s waist. Rayford dreaded what he knew was coming. At some point his weight would shift to the broken shinbone side, and he would either have to wrestle Razor the other way or plant that foot to keep from flying off the ATV.
Once he was in place, Leah insisted he just sit there and get his bearings. “You okay?” she said.
“Think so,” he said, already exhausted. He shut his eyes and rolled his neck, hearing it pop and crack. Then he stole a look at the sky. Clouds covered half the visible canopy now, and they were beginning to roil in all different colors. The sun was half below the horizon, wide and flat and at its most burnt orange, painting the clouds in pinks and reds and yellows. Were he not fearing for his life, he’d have thought it one of the most beautiful skies he had ever seen.
Leah had final instructions for Razor. “I’ll lead the way,” she said. “Mr. Smith will follow you, should we have a problem and need to lift Captain Steele again. My machine has a lot of weight on it too, so if I can make it through a certain area, you should be able to as well. I’ll be trying to avoid ruts, bumps, even the smallest rocks, but of course we can’t avoid them all. Try to take the steep areas as slowly as possible, but you’ll need some power and momentum. Rayford, you’ll just have to hang on and grit your teeth. The first fifty yards or so are pretty clear, so I’ll try to keep an eye behind me to make sure you’re both doing okay.”
Rayford had always considered himself a man’s man. Six-four and thickly muscled, he had played sports through pain of all sorts. And since the Rapture, he’d endured his share of serious injuries. But as he sat there, vise-gripping Razor’s belt, he wanted to scream like a baby. Everything hurt. It was as if the pain had a life and mind of its own and threatened to kill him itself. It dug deep, mostly in his temple and shin, and it vibrated, throbbed, prodded.
When Razor so much as fired up the engine, the hum alone flashed through Rayford’s body and made him instantly light-headed. Razor would likely be able to tell if he passed out, just from the change in his grip. But Rayford was determined to gut this out.
Leah slowly pulled ahead, the pair of coolers hanging off the sides of her ATV like mismatched saddlebags. Razor turned his head. “Just say the word, and I stop.”
“Go,” Rayford managed, and the four-wheeler began rolling. “Lord, have mercy.”
“Okay?” Razor called back.
“Don’t ask, son. I’ll let you know. You just keep moving.”
Sebastian was struck by the grandeur of the early evening sun casting its glow over the black-clad enemy. Who’d have thought this evil mass of humanity could be seen in an attractive light? He had been joined by Otto Weser, the German who had maintained a small band of believers inside New Babylon until nearly the end.
“Ever dream you’d have this privilege, Otto?”
“Privilege? This is my definition of the awesome and terrible day of the Lord.”
“But to be standing here, facing Antichrist’s army on the last day of the earth as we know it . . .”
“I’d rather have acted on the truth when I had the chance and be in heaven already, if you want complete honesty.”
“Well, ’course,” Sebastian said, “but given that we missed it, there’s no place I’d rather be right now. I just wish my wife and daughter could be with me.”
“You wouldn’t want them out here,” Otto said, the understatement so obvious that Sebastian could not think of a retort. “You’re not bothered by an enemy close enough to look up our nostrils?”
Sebastian shook his head. “If they wanted to kill us and God allowed it, it would have happened long ago. I’ve been in aircraft that missiles had no business missing. I feel invulnerable standing here. I can’t beat this army, I know that, not on my own. But Dr. Ben-Judah and Dr. Rosenzweig and lots of other teachers have me convinced that this whole fighting force is going to make like the Midianites before Gideon and turn tail and run by the time this night is out. I can’t wait to see that.”
“It’s a little hard to believe, though, isn’t it? I mean, looking at their sheer numbers?”
Sebastian turned and studied the older man in the twilight. “God changed a cloudless day into a cloudy one a little while ago. And you. You watched while the entire city of New Babylon was laid to ruins in the space of sixty minutes. And you say something’s hard to believe?”
Rayford hated it most when Leah stopped and Razor had to do the same. There was no smooth way to do that, not on these inclines. Sometimes Razor was forced to stop without having found a flat place. There Ray sat, hanging on tight to keep from slipping off the back of the ATV.
“This is where the going gets tough,” Leah said.
And the tough get going, Rayford thought. “What do you call what we’ve been doing so far?” he said.
“Easy street,” she said. “From here on out, we can’t stop. We can barely slow down. We’re going up steep angles and we need to keep moving. You just have to gut it out. Let’s go.”
She took off faster than Rayford had thought possible or prudent, and while Razor eased into his speed a bit more carefully, he was soon gunning the engine to make the grade. A couple of sharp turns made Rayford cry out, but when Razor backed off the throttle Rayford assured him with a shout that he was okay.
Soon they hit the steepest climb and Rayford felt as if he were hanging upside down. He scanned the area around him and realized if he lost his grip here he would be in serious trouble. He would tumble farther than he had initially. Abdullah’s bike whined up beside them and he flashed a thumbs-up. Rayford shook his head. All he needed was to yield to the temptation to let go with one hand and return the gesture, and he’d be a dead man.
He rested his forehead in the middle of Razor’s back. Where did these kids get the steel muscles today? In his prime Rayford was never cut like this specimen.
The sun was fast fading, and all three vehicles’ automatic lights came on at the same time. They finally rounded a curve that put them on an actual path, and Rayford realized the rest of the way would be relatively easy.
What he was not prepared for, however, was the welcome he received. Tens of thousands of residents were out gathering the evening manna and watching the heavens. Word must have passed far and wide about his predicament, because everyone seemed to know the makeshift motorcade was his transport home.
People waved and shouted and whistled and raised their hands. He could not acknowledge them except to nod. Meanwhile, Smitty was waving as if it were his own ticker-tape parade.
Rayford could only imagine the welcome Jesus would receive.
CHAPTER 7
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving a bright, nearly full moon to illuminate an otherwise inky, cloud-scattered sky. The cloud colors had seemed to change in an instant, pastels giving way to deep blues, purples, lavenders, and traces of a fast-fading burnt orange.
Abdullah, Razor, and Leah helped Rayford to his quarters. He insisted on waiting, uncomfortably, in a side chair, while they moved his bed to face t
he open window. That way, on his back, he could take in the entire vista of the beautiful night sky. Something was brewing and, of course, he knew what it was.
Razor appeared eager to get back to his post and was quickly gone. Leah said she would be close by in the infirmary and that either she or Hannah would be available at a moment’s notice with just a call.
Abdullah said he was worried about Mac, then looked as if he shouldn’t have said anything.
“Where is Mac, Smitty?” Rayford said.
Abdullah told him.
“If anything’s happened to Buck,” Rayford said, “I don’t want Kenny knowing. And I don’t want him seeing me this way. Can you confirm Kenny’s still with Priscilla Sebastian?”
Abdullah got on the phone, updated Priscilla on Rayford, and nodded to Ray. “Kenny is about to go to sleep for the night,” he said.
“That’ll be one to tell his grandchildren,” Ray said. “‘I slept through the Glorious Appearing.’”
Rayford was grateful to be off the four-wheeler and in his own bed, but he had not realized how much the day had taken out of him until he was lying flat. “I may sleep through it myself,” he said. “Would you keep me company, Smitty? Keep me awake?”
The Jordanian looked ill at ease. He had never been one for confrontation, but it was obvious he didn’t want to accede to Rayford’s request.
“Hey, it’s all right, man,” Rayford said. “You’ve got stuff to do, places you need to be.”
“It is not that, Captain. But Dr. Rosenzweig is due soon—”
“Oh, that’s right!”
“And, yes, I would like to be in the air when all these things come to pass. If you do not mind.”
“You kiddin’? You know that’s where I’d love to be if I could. You go right ahead, buddy. Really. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, there is no way I would leave you alone. I can stay until Dr. Rosenzweig arrives.”
Rayford carefully put his hands behind his head and folded his pillow double to prop his head a bit more. From his vantage point he had a wide view of the heavens, with the moon far to his left and the rest of his field of vision filled with heavy, colorful, moving clouds. As the sky grew darker, the moon seemed brighter, the clouds denser, and the stars clearer. As usual, when his eyes grew accustomed to the night sky, a deeper layer of stars came into view. But as he studied them, they disappeared and he had to search between clouds for more.
Chaim arrived with a small entourage, and Rayford was surprised when he dismissed all of them. “I will call if I need you,” he said.
And as Abdullah Smith left, Rayford exacted from him a promise that he would call with anything new about Mac or Buck.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Abdullah said.
“Of course. Don’t protect me. Even if it’s the worst, we’ll reunite with them soon.”
Chaim settled into a tilting chair next to Rayford’s bed and leaned back. “Magnificent,” he said. “Like a front-row seat to eternity.”
It wasn’t like Chaim to stall. Though well past seventy now, he was a brilliant man of seemingly unbridled energy, and no one knew him to waste time. Yet here he sat, studying the skies of Israel, with apparently nothing to say.
“Something on your mind, Doctor? I mean, more than a million people here would give anything to spend this night with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Global Community news-media cameras were trained on the Carpathian cavalry that emerged from the Dung Gate. Mac was relieved to discover he was not nearly the only member getting used to his steed. An equal number of men and women, most representing other sub-potentates, overreacted to their horses and wound up steering them in circles or being nearly chucked off. At first this was greeted with smiles all around, but it quickly became obvious that Carpathia was no longer amused. He dismissed the press and urged his generals to get everyone to their various means of conveyance to Petra.
Mac watched for his opening and was disappointed when his commander chose him as one to accompany Carpathia’s cargo plane, big enough for several horses and vehicles. If those in charge only knew that Mac was once Nicolae’s chief pilot . . .
Mac had once prided himself on keeping cool in a crisis, particularly when undercover. But as he dismounted and went through the motions of turning his horse over to a swarthy young man in a loud T-shirt who would walk it aboard the plane, he could think of nothing more creative than to simply try to talk his way out of it.
“Say, I’ve got a problem here, sport,” he said.
“Yeah? What might that be, sport?” the young man said, his accent that of a New Zealander.
“Got myself in the wrong group. Is it too late to catch up with the others?”
“You mean the ones being carried by Hummers and such?”
“Right.”
“I don’t know, but you’d better try. You get on board this plane when you’re not supposed to, and there’ll be blood to pay. Anyway, I got no room for even one extra horse.”
Mac took the horse back and mounted, and when someone called after him asking what he thought he was doing, he hollered, “Following orders! Going where they point me!” He looked over his shoulder to confirm that the voice was not that of his commander. He was otherwise engaged, which Mac found comforting. He didn’t want to have it out with anybody in the GC this close to the return of Jesus. All he needed was to be arrested or shot just before the end.
The animal beneath him seemed to respond to Mac’s sense of purpose. Mac knew where he was going now, and he wanted to get there fast. The first thing he wanted to do, once out of anyone else’s sight, was to call in the news about Buck and about Carpathia’s plans and see if there was any word on Rayford. Then he wanted to get into his own chopper and out of this infernal Global Community Unity Army uniform. His own plain and baggy clothes had never seemed so inviting.
Sebastian felt the fatigue, not of boredom but of inactivity. Tension and anticipation would carry him until midnight or even dawn, if necessary. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
He was grateful for the International Co-op and the job Lionel Whalum had been doing with it since Chloe Steele Williams’s death. Behind Sebastian stood three gargantuan searchlights, equipment only the Co-op could have located and transported. Without the lights, Sebastian’s eyes could play tricks on him. In the moonlight alone, he might have imagined the Unity Army beginning to advance again. He sensed the rumble, felt the vibration, knew something was happening, but all he needed was to flip the switches, train those gigantic beams toward the enemy, and determine that they were merely holding their ground half a mile away.
Razor’s ATV came skidding up behind him in a cloud of dust. Razor approached with a salute and stood at attention.
“You’ve really got to quit that, boy,” Sebastian said. “I’m as military and gung ho as the next guy, but what am I going to do with you? Court-martial you and put you in the brig for what—an hour or two?”
“Sorry, sir,” Razor said, fully reporting on what he called his Captain Steele detail.
“Well, I’m just glad to know it was only you making the ground rumble. Had me thinking the enemy was on the move again.”
“Oh, they are, sir.”
“They are?”
“Yes, sir. From up on the slopes I could see them advancing. You can’t see them at this level, but they’ve moved a good bit, sir. They surely have.”
Sebastian dispatched Otto Weser to flip the switches on the big lamps. “I’d trust my night-vision goggles, but I don’t mind the Unity boys seeing what we’ve got. Anyway, their horses can’t be accustomed to this.”
“Standing by, Big Dog One,” Otto called in.
“Fire ’em up,” Sebastian said, and the high beams ripped across the desert sand. “Mercy.”
The enemy had advanced at least eight hundred yards in the darkness, and the front line of their seemingly endless mounted troops now stood silently about eighty yards away. It was plain they were merely w
aiting for orders to attack.
“We should attack them, sir,” Razor said.
“Say again?”
“We should—”
“I heard you, Razor. I just can’t believe I heard you. In any other situation, that would be brilliant. Seriously. Sucker punch them. Like taking the first swing at the bully. You know they wouldn’t be expecting it.”
“But?”
“But two things: First, if everything we threw at them found its mark, we’d cause a ministampede, kill a few soldiers and horses, then get massacred. Second, we’re invulnerable where we stand, as far as we know. We may not be out there.”
“There is one other thing,” Razor said.
“I’m listening.”
“This battle’s already been won, and without us lifting a finger.”
“Well, there is that, yes.”
Sebastian’s phone chirped. It was Mac. “Yes,” George said, “Rayford’s back in his quarters with Chaim and will apparently pull through. And Buck? . . . I’m sorry to hear that. You talked to Chang? . . . Probably monitoring the world. We’ll spread the word.”
“I sense we are a lot alike, Captain Steele,” Chaim said.
That drew Rayford’s gaze from the window for a second. He couldn’t imagine many people he was more different from than Chaim. They were Jew and Gentile, old and not so old, Middle Eastern and American, botanist and aviator, leader of a million people and leader of a small band.
“I sense,” Chaim said, “despite our cultural and professional differences, that we are both normal men thrust into decisions and roles not of our own making. Am I right?”
“I guess.”
“It may be even more surprising that I am a believer in Messiah than that you are. But both of us took the long way to get here, didn’t we?”
“We did.”
“As you know, in my current position I have more company—more friends and associates and elders and advisers—than anyone would ever need. True, I had no shortage of options as to with whom I would spend this evening. Frankly, if I could have chosen from the whole universe, I would have chosen your son-in-law. We go back a long, long way. I knew him before he was a believer, and he knew me so long before I was that I daresay he still finds it hard to fathom. My hope is that if Cameron returns tonight, he will join us and feel welcome.”