The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (122 page)

Half a world away, Rayford Steele was awakened by a phone call from his first officer. It was nine o’clock Tuesday morning in New Babylon, and he had to face another day whether he wanted to or not. At the very least, he hoped he would get a chance to tell Mac about God.

Rayford ate with the stragglers at a bountiful breakfast. Across the way, dozens of aides hunched over maps and charts and crowded phone and radio banks. He ate lethargically, Mac next to him drumming his fingers and bouncing a foot. Carpathia sat with Fortunato and other senior staffers at a table not far from his office. Now he pressed a cell phone to his ear and talked earnestly in a corner, his back to the room.

Rayford eyed him with disinterest. He wondered about himself now, about his resolve. If it was true Amanda had gone down with the 747, Chloe and Buck and Tsion were all he cared about. Could he be the only Tribulation Force member left standing?

Rayford could muster not a whit of interest in whom Carpathia might be talking to or what about. If a gadget allowed him to listen in, he wouldn’t even flip the switch. He had prayed before he ate, a prayer ambivalent about sustenance provided by the Antichrist. Still, he had eaten. And it was good that he had. His spirits began to lift. No way could he cogently share his faith with Mac if he stayed in a funk.

Mac’s fidgeting made him nervous. “Eager to get flying?” Rayford said.

“Eager to get talking. But not here. Too many ears. But are you up for this, Rayford? With what you’re going through?”

Mac seemed as ready to hear about God as anyone he had ever talked to. Why did it happen this way? When he had been most eager to share, he had tried to get through to his old senior pilot, Earl Halliday, who had had no interest and was now dead. He had tried without success to reach Hattie Durham, and now he could only pray there was still time for her. Here was Mac, in essence begging him for the truth, and Rayford would rather be back in bed.

He crossed his legs and folded his arms. He would will himself to move today. In the corner Carpathia wheeled around and stared at him, the phone still at his ear. Nicolae waved enthusiastically, then seemed to think better of showing such enthusiasm to a man who had just lost his wife. His face grew somber and his wave stiffened. Rayford did not respond, though he held Carpathia’s gaze. Nicolae beckoned with a finger.

“Oh, no,” Mac said. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

But they couldn’t walk out on Nicolae Carpathia.

Rayford was in a testy mood. He didn’t want to talk to Carpathia; Carpathia wanted to talk to him. He could come Rayford’s way.
What have I become?
Rayford wondered. He was playing games with the potentate of the world. Petty. Silly. Immature.
But I don’t care.

Carpathia snapped his phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. He waved at Rayford, who pretended not to notice and turned his back. Rayford leaned toward Mac. “So, what are you going to teach me today?”

“Don’t look now, but Carpathia wants you.”

“He knows where I am.”

“Ray! He could still toss you in jail.”

“I wish he would. So anyway, what
are
you going to teach me today?”

“Teach you! You’ve flown whirlybirds.”

“A long time ago,” Rayford said. “More than twenty years.”

“Chopper jockeying is like riding a bike,” Mac said. “You’ll be as good as me in an hour.”

Mac looked over Rayford’s shoulder, stood, and thrust out his hand. “Potentate Carpathia, sir!”

“Excuse Captain Steele and me for a moment, would you, Officer McCullum?”

“I’ll meet you in the hangar,” Rayford said.

Carpathia slid McCullum’s chair close to Rayford’s and sat. He unbuttoned his suit coat and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. Rayford still had legs crossed and arms folded.

Carpathia spoke earnestly. “Rayford, I hope you do not mind my calling you by your first name, but I know you are in pain.”

Rayford tasted bile. “Lord, please,” he prayed silently, “keep my mouth shut.” It only made sense that the embodiment of evil himself was the slimiest of liars. To imply that Amanda had been his plant, a mole in the Tribulation Force for the Global Community, and then to feign sorrow over her death? A lethal wound to the head was too good for him. Rayford imagined torturing the man who led the forces of evil against the God of the universe.

“I wish you had been here earlier, Rayford. Well, actually I am glad you were able to get the rest you needed. But those of us here for the first breakfast were treated to Leon Fortunato’s account of last night.”

“Mac said something about it.”

“Yes, Officer McCullum has heard it twice. You should ask him to share it with you again. Better yet, schedule some time with Mr. Fortunato.”

It was all Rayford could do to feign civility. “I’m aware of Leon’s devotion to you.”

“As am I. However, even I was moved and flattered at how his view has been elevated.”

Rayford knew the story but couldn’t resist baiting Carpathia. “It doesn’t surprise me that Leon is grateful for your rescuing him.”

Carpathia sat back and looked amused. “McCullum has heard the story twice, and that is his assessment? Have you not heard? I did not rescue Mr. Fortunato at all! I did not even save his life! According to
his
testimony, I brought him back from the dead.”

“Indeed.”

“I do not claim this for myself, Rayford. I am telling you only what Mr. Fortunato says.”

“You were there. What’s
your
account?”

“Well, when I heard that my most trusted aide and personal confidant had been lost in the ruins of our headquarters, something came over me. I simply refused to believe it. I willed it to be untrue. Every fiber of my being told me to simply go, by myself, to the site and bring him back.”

“Too bad you didn’t take witnesses.”

“You do not believe me?”

“It’s quite a tale.”

“You must talk with Mr. Fortunato.”

“I’m really not interested.”

“Rayford, that fifty-foot pile of bricks, mortar, and debris had been a two-hundred-foot tall building. Leon Fortunato had been with me on the top floor when that building gave way. Despite the earthquake precautions designed into it, everyone in there should have been killed. And they were. You know there were no survivors.”

“So you’re saying it’s Leon’s contention, and yours, that even he was killed in the fall.”

“I called him out of the middle of that wreckage. No one could have survived that.”

“And yet he did.”

“He did not. He was dead. He had to be.”

“And how did you extricate him?”

“I commanded him to come forth, and he did.”

Rayford leaned forward. “That had to make you believe the story of Lazarus. Too bad it’s from a book of fairy tales, huh?”

“Now, Rayford, I have been most tolerant and have never disparaged your beliefs. Neither have I hidden that I believe you are, at best, misguided. But, yes, it gave me pause that this incident mirrored an account I believe was allegorical.”

“Is it true you used the same words Jesus used with Lazarus?”

“So Mr. Fortunato says. I was unaware of precisely what I said. I left here with full confidence that I would come back with him, and my resolve never wavered, not even when I saw that mountain of ruins and knew that rescuers had found no one alive.”

Rayford wanted to vomit. “So now you’re some sort of deity?”

“That is not for me to say, though clearly, raising a dead man is a divine act. Mr. Fortunato believes I could be the Messiah.”

Rayford raised his eyebrows. “If I were you, I’d be quick to deny that, unless I knew it to be true.”

Carpathia softened. “It does not seem the time for me to make such a claim, but I am not so sure it is untrue.”

Rayford squinted. “You think you might be the Messiah.”

“Let me just say, especially after what happened last night, I have not ruled out the possibility.”

Rayford thrust his hands in his pockets and looked away.

“Come now, Rayford. Do not assume I do not see the irony. I am not blind. I know a faction out there, including many of your so-called tribulation saints, labels me an antichrist, or even
the
Antichrist. I would delight in proving the opposite.”

Rayford leaned forward, pulled his hands from his pockets, and entwined his fingers. “Let me get this straight. There’s a possibility you are the Messiah, but you don’t know for sure?”

Carpathia nodded solemnly.

“That makes no sense,” Rayford said.

“Matters of faith are mysteries,” Carpathia intoned. “I urge you to spend time with Mr. Fortunato. See what you think after that.”

Rayford made no promises. He looked toward the exit.

“I know you need to go, Captain Steele. I just wanted to share with you the tremendous progress already made in my rebuilding initiative. As early as tomorrow we expect to be able to communicate with half the world. At that time I will address anyone who can listen.” He pulled a sheet from his coat pocket. “Meanwhile, I would like you and Mr. McCullum to load whatever equipment you need onto the 216 and chart a course to bring these international ambassadors to join those who are already here.”

Rayford scanned the list. It appeared he would fly more than twenty thousand miles. “Where are you on rebuilding runways?”

“Global Community forces are working around the clock in every country. Cellular-Solar will network the entire world within weeks. Virtually anyone not on that project is rebuilding airstrips, roads, and centers of commerce.”

“I have my assignment,” Rayford said flatly.

“I would like to know your itinerary as soon as it is set. Did you notice the name on the back?”

Rayford turned the sheet over. “Pontifex Maximus Peter Mathews, Enigma Babylon One World Faith. So we bring him, too?”

“Though he is in Rome, pick him up first. I would like him on the plane when each of the other ambassadors boards.”

Rayford shrugged. He wasn’t sure why God had put him in this position, but until he felt led to leave it, he would hang in.

“One more thing,” Carpathia said. “Mr. Fortunato will go with you and serve as host.”

Rayford shrugged again. “Now may I ask you something?” Carpathia nodded, standing. “Could you let me know when the dredging operation commences?”

“The what?”

“When they pull the Pan-Con 747 out of the Tigris,” Rayford said evenly.

“Oh, yes, that. Now, Rayford, I have been advised it would be futile.”

“There’s a chance you won’t do it?”

“Most likely we will not. The airline informed us who was aboard, and we know there are no survivors. We are already at a loss for what to do with the bodies of so many victims of this disaster. I have been advised to consider the aircraft a sacred burial vault.”

Rayford felt his face flush, and he slumped. “You’re not going to prove to me my wife is dead, are you?”

“Oh, Rayford, is there any doubt?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. It doesn’t feel like she’s dead, if you know what I—well, of course you don’t know what I mean.”

“I know it is difficult for loved ones to let go unless they see the body. But you are an intelligent man. Time heals—”

“I want that plane dredged up. I want to know whether my wife is dead or alive.”

Carpathia stepped behind Rayford and placed a hand on each shoulder. Rayford closed his eyes, wishing he could melt away. Carpathia spoke soothingly. “Next you will be asking me to resurrect her.”

Rayford spoke through clenched teeth. “If you are who you think you are, you ought to be able to pull that off for one of your most trusted employees.”

Buck had fallen asleep atop the bedspread. Now, well after midnight, he couldn’t imagine he had slept more than two hours. Sitting up, gathering the covers around him, he didn’t want to move. But what had awakened him? Had he seen lights flicker in the hallway?

It had to have been a dream. Surely electricity would not be reconnected in Mount Prospect for days, maybe weeks. Buck held his breath. Now he
did
hear something from the other room, the low, whispering cadence of Tsion Ben-Judah. Had something awakened him too? Tsion was praying in his own tongue. Buck wished he understood Hebrew. The prayer grew fainter, and Buck lay back down and rolled onto his side. As he lost consciousness he reminded himself that in the morning he needed one last look around Loretta’s neighborhood—one more desperate attempt to find Chloe.