The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (104 page)

She had wept off and on almost the entire flight. Through two meals, a movie, and a snack, she had unburdened herself to Rayford. She did not want to stay with Nicolae Carpathia. She had lost her love for the man. She didn’t understand him. While she wasn’t ready to say he was the Antichrist, she certainly was not as impressed with him behind closed doors as most of his public was with him.

Rayford had carefully avoided declaring his starkest beliefs about Carpathia. Clearly Rayford was no fan and hardly loyal, but he didn’t consider it the better part of wisdom to state categorically that he agreed with most Christian believers that Carpathia fit the bill of the Antichrist. Of course, Rayford had no doubt about it. But he had seen broken romances heal before, and the last thing he wanted was to give Hattie ammunition that could be used against him with Carpathia. Soon enough it wouldn’t matter who might bad-mouth him to Nicolae. They would be mortal enemies anyway.

Most troubling to Rayford was Hattie’s turmoil over her pregnancy. He wished she would refer to what she was carrying as a child. But it was a pregnancy to her, an unwanted pregnancy. It may not have been at the beginning, but now, given her state of mind, she did not want to give birth to Nicolae Carpathia’s child. She didn’t refer to it as a child or even a baby.

Rayford had the difficult task of trying to plead his case without being too obvious. He had asked her, “Hattie, what do you think your options are?”

“I know there are only three, Rayford. Every woman has to consider these three options when she’s pregnant.”

Not
every
woman,
Rayford thought.

Hattie had continued: “I can carry it to term and keep it, which I don’t want to do. I can put it up for adoption, but I’m not sure I want to endure the entire pregnancy and birth process. And, of course, I can terminate the pregnancy.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“What do you mean ‘what does that mean?’” Hattie had said. “Terminate the pregnancy means terminate the pregnancy.”

“You mean have an abortion?”

Hattie had stared at him like he was an imbecile. “Yes! What did you think I meant?”

“Well, it just seems you’re using language that makes it sound like the easiest option.”

“It
is
the easiest option, Rayford. Think about it. Obviously, the worst scenario would be to let a pregnancy run its entire course, go through all that discomfort, then go through the pain of labor. And then what if I got all those maternal instincts everybody talks about? Besides nine months of living in the pits, I’d go through all that stuff delivering somebody else’s child. Then I’d have to give it up, which would just make everything worse.”

“You just called it a child there,” Rayford had said.

“Hmm?”

“You had been referring to this as your pregnancy. But once you deliver it, then it’s a child?”

“Well, it will be
someone’s
child. I hope not mine.”

Rayford had let the matter drop while a meal was served. He had prayed silently that he would be able to communicate to her some truth. Subtlety was not his forte. She was not a dumb woman. Maybe the best tack was to be direct.

Later in the flight, Hattie herself had brought up the issue again. “Why do you want to make me feel guilty for considering an abortion?”

“Hattie,” he had said, “I can’t make you feel guilty. You have to make your own decisions. What I think about it means very little, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I care what you think. I respect you as someone who’s been around. I hope you don’t think that I think abortion is an easy decision, even though it’s the best and simplest solution.”

“Best and simplest for whom?”

“For me, I know. Sometimes you have to look out for yourself. When I left my job and ran off to New York to be with Nicolae, I thought I was finally doing something for Hattie. Now I don’t like what I did for Hattie, so I need to do something else for Hattie. Understand?”

Rayford had nodded. He understood all too well. He had to remind himself that she was not a believer. She would not be thinking about the good of anyone but herself. Why should she? “Hattie, just humor me for a moment and assume that that pregnancy, that ‘it’ you’re carrying, is already a child. It’s your child. Perhaps you don’t like its father. Perhaps you’d hate to see what kind of a person its father might produce. But that baby is
your
blood relative too. You already have maternal feelings, or you wouldn’t be in such turmoil about this. My question is, who’s looking out for that child’s best interest? Let’s say a wrong has been done. Let’s say it was immoral for you to live with Nicolae Carpathia outside of marriage. Let’s say this pregnancy, this child, was produced from an immoral union. Let’s go farther. Let’s say that those people are right who consider Nicolae Carpathia the Antichrist. I’ll even buy the argument that perhaps you regret the idea of having a child at all and would not be the best mother for it. I don’t think you can shirk responsibility for it the way a rape or incest victim might be justified in doing.

“But even in those cases, the solution isn’t to kill the innocent party, is it? Something is wrong, really wrong, and so people defend their right to choose. What they choose, of course, is not just the end of a pregnancy, not just an abortion, it’s the death of a person. But which person? One of the people who made a mistake? One of the people who committed a rape or incest? Or one of the people who got pregnant out of wedlock? No, the solution is always to kill the most innocent party of all.”

Rayford had gone too far, and he had known it. He had glanced up at Hattie holding her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face. He had touched her arm, and she had wrenched away. He had leaned further and grabbed her elbow. “Hattie, please don’t pull away from me. Please don’t think I said any of that to hurt you personally. Just chalk it up to somebody standing up for the rights of someone who can’t defend him- or herself. If you won’t stand up for your own child, somebody has to.”

With that, she had wrenched fully away from him and had buried her face in her hands and wept. Rayford had been angry with himself. Why couldn’t he learn? How could he sit there spouting all that? He believed it, and he was convinced it was God’s view. It made sense to him. But he also knew she could reject it out of hand simply because he was a man. How could he understand? No one was suggesting what he could or could not do with his own body. He had wanted to tell her he understood that, but again, what if that unborn child was a female? Who was standing up for the rights of that woman’s body?

Hattie had not spoken to him for hours. He knew he deserved that.
But,
he wondered,
how much time is there to be diplomatic?
He had no idea what her plans were. He could only plead with her when he had the chance. “Hattie,” he had said. She hadn’t looked at him. “Hattie, please let me just express one more thing to you.”

She had turned slightly, not looking fully at him, but he had the impression she would at least listen.

“I want you to forgive me for anything I said that hurt you personally or insulted you. I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I would not do that intentionally. More important, I want you to know that I am one of a few friends you have in the Chicago area who loves you and wants only the best for you. I wish you’d think about stopping in and seeing us in Mt. Prospect on your way back. Even if I’m not there, even if I have to go on back to New Babylon before you, stop in and see Chloe and Buck. Talk to Amanda. Would you do that?”

Now she had looked at him. She had pressed her lips together and shook her head apologetically. “Probably not. I appreciate your sentiments, and I accept your apology. But no, probably not.”

And that’s the way it had been left. Rayford was angry with himself. His motives were pure, and he believed his logic was right. But maybe he had counted too much on his own personality and style and not enough on God himself to work in Hattie’s heart. All he could do now was pray for her.

When the plane finally stopped at the gate, Rayford helped Hattie pull her bag from the overhead rack. She thanked him. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more. He had apologized enough. Hattie wiped her face one more time and said, “Rayford, I know you mean well. But you drive me nuts sometimes. I should be glad nothing ever really developed between us.”

“Thanks a lot,” Rayford said, feigning insult.

“I’m serious,” she said. “You know what I mean. We’re just too far apart in age or something, I guess.”

“I guess,” Rayford said. So, that was how she summarized it. Fine. That wasn’t the issue at all, of course. He may not have handled it the best way, but he knew trying to fix it now would accomplish nothing.

As they emerged from the gateway, he saw Amanda’s welcome smile. He rushed to her, and she held him tight. She kissed him passionately but pulled away quickly. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, Hattie, but frankly I was more eager to see Rayford.”

“I understand,” Hattie said flatly, shaking hands and looking away.

“Can we drop you somewhere?” Amanda said.

Hattie chuckled. “Well, my bags are checked through to Denver. Can you drop me there?”

“Oh, I knew that!” Amanda said. “Can we walk you to your gate?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I know this airport. I’ve got a little layover here, and I’m just gonna try to relax.”

Rayford and Amanda said their good-byes to Hattie, and she was cordial enough, but as they walked away, she caught Rayford’s eye. She pursed her lips and shook her head. He felt miserable.

Rayford and Amanda walked hand-in-hand, then arm-in-arm, then arms around each other’s waist, all the way to the escalators that led down to baggage claim. Amanda hesitated and pulled Rayford back from the moving stairway. Something on a TV monitor had caught her eye. “Ray,” she said, “come look at this.”

They stood watching as a CNN/GNN report summarized the extent of the damage from the war around the world. Already, Carpathia was putting his spin on it. The announcer said, “World health care experts predict the death toll will rise to more than 20 percent internationally. Global Community Potentate Nicolae Carpathia has announced formation of an international health care organization that will take precedence over all local and regional efforts. He and his ten global ambassadors released a statement from their private, high-level meetings in New Babylon outlining a proposal for strict measures regulating the health and welfare of the entire global community. We have a reaction now from renowned cardiovascular surgeon Samuel Kline of Norway.”

Rayford whispered, “This guy is in Carpathia’s back pocket. I’ve seen him around. He says whatever Saint Nick wants him to say.”

The doctor was saying, “The International Red Cross and the World Health Organization, as wonderful and effective as they have been in the past, are not equipped to handle devastation, disease, and death on this scale. Potentate Carpathia’s visionary plan is not only our only hope for survival in the midst of coming famine and plagues, but also it seems to me—at first glance—a blueprint for the most aggressive international health care agenda ever. Should the death toll reach as high as 25 percent due to contaminated water and air, food shortages, and the like, as some have predicted, new directives that govern life from the womb to the tomb can bring this planet from the brink of death to a utopian state as regards physical health.”

Rayford and Amanda turned toward the escalator, Rayford shaking his head. “In other words, Carpathia clears away the bodies he has blown to bits or starved or allowed to become diseased by plagues because of his war, and the rest of us lucky subjects will be healthier and more prosperous than ever.”

Amanda looked at him. “Spoken like a true, loyal, employee,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. They stumbled and nearly tumbled when the escalator reached the bottom.

Buck embraced his new father-in-law and old friend like the brother he was. He considered it a tremendous honor to introduce Tsion Ben-Judah to Rayford and to watch them get acquainted. The Tribulation Force was together once more, bringing each other up-to-date and trying to plan for a future that had never seemed less certain.

Rayford forced himself to stay up until a normal bedtime Saturday night. He, Buck, and Tsion went over and over Bruce’s material. More than once Rayford was moved to tears. “I’m not sure I’m up to this,” he said.

Tsion spoke softly. “You are.”

“What would you have done had I been unable to get back?”

Buck said, “I don’t know, but I can’t risk speaking in public. And certainly Tsion can’t.”

Rayford asked what they were going to do about Tsion. “He can’t stay here long, can he?” he said.

“No,” Buck said. “It won’t be long before it gets back to Global Community brass that I was involved in his escape. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if Carpathia already knows.”

They decided amongst themselves that Tsion should be able to come to New Hope Sunday morning, possibly with Loretta, as a guest who appeared to be an old friend. There was enough difference in their ages that, except for his Middle Eastern look, he might appear to be a son or a nephew. “But I wouldn’t risk his exposure any further than that,” Rayford said. “If the shelter is ready, we need to sneak him in there before the end of the day tomorrow.”

Late in the evening a bleary-eyed Rayford called a meeting of the Tribulation Force, asking Tsion Ben-Judah to wait in another room. Rayford, Amanda, Buck, and Chloe sat around the dining room table, Bruce’s pages piled high before them. “I suppose it falls to me,” Rayford said, “as the senior member of this little band of freedom fighters, to call to order the first meeting after the loss of our leader.”

Amanda shyly raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I believe I am the senior member, if you’re talking age.”

Rayford smiled. There was precious little levity anymore, and he appreciated her feeble attempts. “I know you’re the oldest, hon,” he said, “but I’ve been a believer longer. Probably by a week or so.”

“Fair enough,” she said.

“The only order of business tonight is voting in a new member. I think it’s obvious to all of us that God has provided a new leader and mentor in Dr. Ben-Judah.”

Chloe spoke up. “We’re asking an awful lot of him, aren’t we? Are we sure he wants to live in this country? In this city?”

“Where else could he go?” Buck asked. “I mean, it’s only fair to ask him rather than to make assumptions, I guess, but his options are limited.”

Buck told the others about the new phones, the coming computers, how Bruce had outfitted the shelter for phone and computer broadcasting, and how Donny Moore was designing a system that would be interception- and trace-proof.

Rayford thought everyone seemed encouraged. He finalized preparations for the memorial service the next morning and said he planned to be unabashedly evangelistic. They prayed for the confidence, peace, and blessing of God on their decision to include Tsion in the Tribulation Force. Rayford invited him into the meeting.

“Tsion, my brother, we would like to ask you to join our little core group of believers. We know you have been deeply wounded and may be in pain for a long, long time. We’re not asking for an immediate decision. As you can imagine, we need you not to just be one of us, but also to be our leader, in essence, our pastor. We recognize that the day may come when we might all be living with you in the secret shelter. Meanwhile, we will try to maintain as normal lives as possible, trying to survive and spread the good news of Christ to others until his Glorious Appearing.”

Tsion rose at one end of the table and placed both hands atop it. Buck, who so recently had thought Tsion looked younger than his forty-six years, now saw him weary and spent, grief etching his face. His words came slowly, haltingly, through quivering lips.

“My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,” he said in his thick, Israeli accent, “I am deeply honored and moved. I am grateful to God for his provision and blessing to me in bringing young Cameron to find me and save my life. We must pray for our brothers, Michael and his three friends, whom I believe are among the 144,000 witnesses God is raising up around the world from the tribes of Israel. We must also pray for our brother Anis, whom Cameron has told you about. He was used of God to deliver us. I know nothing more about him, except that should it come out that he could have detained me, he too may be a martyr before we know it.

“Devastated as I am over my own personal loss, I see the clear hand of God Almighty in guiding my steps. It was as if my blessed homeland were a saltshaker in his hand, and he upended it and shook me out across the desert and into the air. I landed right where he wants me. Where else can I go?

“I need no time to think about it. I have already prayed about it. I am where God wants me to be, and I will be here for as long as he wishes. I do not like to live in hiding, but neither am I a reckless man. I will gratefully accept your offer of shelter and provisions, and I look forward to all the Bible software Cameron has promised to put on the new computer. If you and your technical adviser, young Mr. Moore, can devise a way to multiply my ministry, I would be thankful. Clearly, my days of international travel and speaking are over. I look forward to sitting with fellow believers in your church tomorrow morning and hearing more about your wonderful mentor, my predecessor, Bruce Barnes.

“I cannot and will not promise to replace him in your hearts. Who can replace one’s spiritual father? But as God has blessed me with a mind that understands many languages, with a heart that seeks after him and always has, and with the truth he has imparted to me and which I discovered and accepted and received only a little too late, I will dedicate the rest of my life to sharing with you and anyone else who will hear it the Good News of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Savior, my Messiah, and my Savior.”

Tsion seemed to collapse into his chair, and, as one, Rayford and the rest of the Tribulation Force turned and knelt before theirs.

Buck felt the presence of God as clearly as he had during his escapade in Israel and Egypt. He realized his God was not limited by space and time. Later, when he and Chloe went up to bed, leaving Rayford alone in the dining room to put the final touches on his memorial service message, they prayed that Verna Zee would follow through on her promise to attend. “She’s the key,” Buck said. “Chloe, if she gets spooked and says anything to anybody about me, our lives will never be the same.”

“Buck, our lives haven’t been the same from one day to the next for almost two years.”

Buck gathered her in, and she nestled against his chest. Buck felt her relax and heard her deep, even breathing as she fell asleep minutes later. He lay awake another hour, staring at the ceiling.

Buck awoke at eight in an empty bed. He smelled breakfast. Loretta would have already been at church. He knew Chloe and Amanda had bonded and frequently worked together, but he was surprised to find Tsion also putzing around in the kitchen. “We will add a little Middle Eastern flavor to our morning repast, no?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me, brother,” Buck said. “Loretta will be back to pick you up at about nine. Amanda, Chloe, and I will head over as soon as we’re finished with breakfast.”

Buck knew there would be a crowd that morning, but he didn’t expect the parking lots to be full and the streets lined with cars for blocks. If Loretta hadn’t had a reserved spot, she might have done better to leave her car at home and walk to the church with Tsion. As it was, she told Buck later, she had to wave someone out of her spot when she got back with him.

It didn’t make sense for Tsion to be seen with Buck at church. Buck sat with Chloe and Amanda. Loretta sat near the back with Tsion. Loretta, Buck, Chloe, and Amanda kept an eye out for Verna.

Rayford would not have known Verna if she was standing in front of him. He was occupied with his own thoughts and responsibilities that morning. Fifty minutes before the service he signaled the funeral director to move the casket into the sanctuary and open it.

Rayford was in Bruce’s office when the funeral director hurried back to him. “Sir, are you sure you still want me to do that? The sanctuary is full to overflowing already.”

Rayford didn’t doubt him but followed him to look for himself. He peeked through the platform door. It would have been inappropriate to open the casket in front of all those people. Had Bruce’s body been on display, waiting for them when they arrived, that would have been one thing. “Just wheel the closed coffin out there,” Rayford said. “We’ll schedule a viewing later.”

As Rayford headed back to the office, he and the funeral director came upon the casket and the attendants in an otherwise empty corridor that led to the platform. Rayford was overcome with a sudden urge. “Could you open it just for me, briefly?”

“Certainly, sir, if you would avert your eyes a moment.”

Rayford turned his back and heard the lid open and the movement of material.

“All right, sir,” the director said.

Bruce looked less alive and even more like the shell Rayford knew this body to be than he had under the shroud outside the demolished hospital where Rayford had found him. Whether it was the lighting, the passage of time, or his own grief and fatigue, Rayford did not know. This, he knew, was merely the earthly house of his dear friend. Bruce was gone. The likeness that lay here was just a reflection of the man he once was. Rayford thanked the director and headed back to the office.

He was glad he had taken that last look. It wasn’t that he needed closure, as so many said of such a viewing. He had simply feared that the shock of Bruce appearing so lifeless at a corporate viewing might render him speechless. But it didn’t now. He was nervous, yet he felt more confidence than ever about representing Bruce and representing God to these people.

The lump in Buck’s throat began the moment he entered the sanctuary and saw the crowd. The number didn’t surprise him, but how early they had assembled did. Also, there was not the usual murmuring as at a normal Sunday morning service. No one here seemed even to whisper. The silence was eerie, and anyone could have interpreted it as a tribute to Bruce. People wept, but no one sobbed. At least not yet. They simply sat, most with heads bowed, some reading the brief program that included Bruce’s vital statistics. Buck was amazed by the verse someone, probably Loretta, ran along the bottom of the back page of the program. It read simply, “I know that my Redeemer lives.”

Buck felt Chloe shudder and knew she was near tears. He put his arm around her shoulder and his hand brushed Amanda just beyond her. Amanda turned, and Buck saw her tears. He put a hand on her shoulder, and there they sat in their silent grief.

At precisely ten o’clock, just the way (Buck thought) a pilot would do it, Rayford and one other elder emerged from the door at the side of the platform. Rayford sat while the other man stepped to the pulpit and motioned that all should rise. He led the congregation in two hymns sung so slowly and quietly and with such meaning that Buck could barely get the words out. When the songs had concluded, the elder said, “That is the extent of our preliminary service. There will be no offering today. There will be no announcements today. All meetings will resume next Sunday, as scheduled. This memorial service is in memory of our dear departed pastor, Bruce Barnes.”