The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (130 page)

“Mac,” Rayford said, fighting tears, “I can hardly believe this. I prayed for a sign, and God answered. I needed a sign. How can I know who to trust these days?”

“I wondered,” Mac said. “I was hungry for God and knew you had what I needed, but I was afraid you would be suspicious.”

“I was, but I had already said way too much if you were working against me for Carpathia.”

Mac was gazing into the mirror and Rayford was dressing when he heard a brief knock and the door flew open. A young assistant from the communications center said, “Excuse me, sirs, but whichever one of you is Captain Steele has a phone call.”

“Be right there,” Rayford said. “By the way, have I got a smudge on my forehead right here?”

The young man looked. “No sir. Don’t think so.”

Rayford caught Mac’s eye. Then he tucked in his undershirt and slid off down the hall in his stocking feet. Somebody like Fortunato—or worse, Carpathia—could court-martial him for appearing in front of subordinates half dressed. He knew he couldn’t be in the employ of the Antichrist much longer anyway.

Buck stood silently in the Wisconsin wasteland with the phone pressed to his ear. When Rayford finally came on, he said quickly, “Buck, just answer yes or no. Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“This is not a secure phone, so tell me how everyone is without using names, please.”

“I’m fine,” Buck said. “Mentor is safe and OK. She escaped, we believe. Close to reconnecting now.”

“Others?”

“Secretary is gone. Computer techie and wife are gone.”

“That hurts.”

“I know. You?”

“They tell me Amanda went down with a Pan-Con flight into the Tigris,” Rayford said.

“She’s listed on the manifest, if you can believe what’s on the Internet, but you’re not buying it?”

“Not until I see her with my own eyes.”

“I understand. Boy, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too. Your own family?”

“Unaccounted for, but that’s true of most everyone.”

“How are the buildings?”

“Both gone.”

“You have accommodations?” Rayford asked.

“I’m fine. Keeping a low profile.”

They agreed to e-mail each other and disconnected. Buck turned to Tsion. “She couldn’t be a double-crosser. He’s too perceptive, too aware.”

“He could have been blinded by love,” Tsion said. Buck looked sharply at him. “Cameron, I no more want to believe this than you do. But it appears Bruce strongly suspected.”

Buck shook his head. “You’d better stay out here in the shadows, Tsion.”

“Why? I’m the least of anyone’s worries here, now.”

“Maybe, but GC communications makes this a small world. They know I’m bound to show up sooner or later if Chloe is here. If they’re still looking for you and Verna Zee broke our agreement and ratted on me to Carpathia, they might expect to find you with me.”

“You have a creative mind, Buck. Paranoid too.”

“Maybe. But let’s not take chances. If I’m being followed when I come out, hopefully with Chloe, keep your distance. I’ll pick you up about two hundred yards west of where I’m parked.”

Buck walked into chaos. Not only was the place a madhouse of equipment and patients and officials competing to prove who had authority, but there was also a lot of yelling. Things had to happen fast, and no one had time for cordiality.

It took Buck a long time to get the attention of a woman at the front desk. She appeared to be doing the work of reception and admittance and also a bit of triage. After getting out of the way of two stretchers, each bearing a bloody body Buck bet was dead, he pushed up to the counter. “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m looking for this woman.” He held up a copy of the fax Ernie had broadcast.

“If she looks like that, she wouldn’t be here,” the woman barked. “Does she have a name?”

“The name’s on the picture,” Buck said. “You need me to read it to you?”

“What I don’t need is your sarcasm, pal. As a matter of fact, I
do
need you to read it to me.”

Buck did.

“I don’t recognize the name, but I’ve processed hundreds today.”

“How many without names?”

“About a quarter. We found most of these people in or under their homes, so we cross-checked addresses. Anybody away from home mostly carried ID.”

“Let’s say she was away from home but had no ID, and she’s not in a position to tell you who she is?”

“Then your guess is as good as mine. We don’t have a special ward for unidentifieds.”

“Mind if I look around?”

“What are you gonna do, check every patient?”

“If I have to.”

“Not unless you’re a GC employee and—”

“I am,” Buck said, flashing his ID.

“—make sure you stay out of the way.”

Buck traipsed through the first hotel, pausing at any bed that had a patient with no name card. He ignored several huge bodies and didn’t waste time on people with gray or white hair. If anyone looked small or thin or feminine enough to be Chloe, he took a good look.

He was on his way to the second hotel when a tall black man backed out of a room, locking the door. Buck nodded and kept moving, but the man apparently noticed his fax. “Looking for someone?”

“My wife.” Buck held up the page.

“Haven’t seen her, but you might want to check in here.”

“More patients?”

“This is our morgue, sir. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’ve got the key.”

Buck pursed his lips. “Guess I’d better.”

Buck stepped behind the man as he unlocked the door. When he pushed, however, the door stuck a bit and Buck bumped into him. Buck apologized, and the man turned and said, “No prob—”

He stopped and stared at Buck’s face. “Are you all right, sir? I’m a doctor.”

“Oh, the cheek’s all right. I just fell. It looks OK, doesn’t it?”

The doctor cocked his head to look more closely. “Oh, that looks superficial. I thought I noticed a bruise on your forehead, just under the hairline.”

“Nope. Didn’t get banged there, far as I know.”

“Bumps there can cause subcutaneous bleeding. It’s not dangerous, but you could look like a raccoon in a day or two. Mind if I take a peek?”

Buck shrugged. “I’m in kind of a hurry. But go ahead.”

The doctor grabbed a fresh pair of rubber gloves from a box in his pocket and pulled them on.

“Oh, please don’t make a big production of it,” Buck said. “I don’t have any diseases or anything.”

“That may be,” the doctor said, pushing Buck’s hair out of the way. “I can’t claim the same for all the bodies I deal with.” They were in a huge room, nearly every foot of the floor covered with sheeted corpses.

“You
do
have a mark there,” the doctor said. He pushed on it and around it. “No pain?”

“No.”

“You know,” Buck said, “you’ve got something on your forehead too. Looks like a smudge.”

The doctor swiped his forehead with his sleeve. “May have picked up some newsprint.”

The doctor showed Buck how to pull back the shroud at the head of each body. He would have a clear view of the face and could simply let the material drop again. “Ignore this row. It’s all men.”

Buck jumped when the first body proved that of an elderly woman with bared teeth, eyes open and scared.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor said. “I have not manipulated the bodies. Some appear asleep. Others look like that. Sorry to startle you.”

Buck grew more cautious and breathed a prayer of desperation before each unveiling. He was horrified at the parade of death but grateful each time he did not find Chloe. When he finished, Buck thanked the doctor and headed for the door. The doctor looked at him curiously and apologetically reached for Buck’s “smudge” once more, rubbing it lightly with his thumb, as if he could wash it away. He shrugged. “Sorry.”

Buck opened the door. “Yours is still there too, Doc.”

In the first room of the other hotel, Buck saw two middle-aged women who looked as if they’d been through a war. On his way out he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. He held his hair away from his forehead. He saw nothing.

Buck waited so long for an elevator that he almost gave up and took the stairs. But when a car finally had room for him, he stood there with the picture of Chloe dangling from his fingers. A heavyset, older doctor stepped on at the third floor and stared. Buck raised the picture to eye level. “May I?” the doctor asked, reaching for it. “She belong to you?”

“My wife.”

“I saw her.”

Buck felt a lump in his throat. “Where is she?”

“Don’t you mean
how
is she?”

“Is she all right?”

“When last I saw her, she was alive. Step off on four so we can talk.”

Buck tried to withhold his excitement. She was alive, that was all that mattered. He followed the doctor off the elevator, and the big man motioned him to a corner. “I advised she needed surgery, but we’re not operating here. If they followed my advice, they scheduled her for Milwaukee or Madison or Minneapolis.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“At first I thought she had been run over. Her right side was pretty banged up from her ankle to her head. She had what appeared to be chunks of asphalt embedded into that side of her body, and she had broken bones and possibly a fractured skull, totally on that side. But for her to be run over on asphalt, she would have had to have damage on her other side. And there was nothing there but a slight abrasion on her hip.”

“Is she going to live?”

“I don’t know. We couldn’t do X-rays or MRIs here. I have no idea about the extent of damage to bones or to internal organs. I did, however, finally come to some hypothesis of what might have happened to her. I believe she was struck by a section of roofing. It probably knocked her to the ground, causing that abrasion. She was brought here by Ambu-Van. I understand she was unconscious, and they had no idea how long she’d been lying there.”

“Did she regain consciousness?”

“Yes, but she was unable to communicate.”

“She couldn’t speak?”

“No. And she did not squeeze my hand or blink or nod or shake her head.”

“You’re sure she’s not here?”

“I’d be disappointed if she was still here, sir. We’re sending all the acute cases to one of the three
M
s, as I told you.”

“Who would know where she was sent?”

The doctor pointed down the hall. “Ask that man right there for the disposition of Mother Doe.”

“Thanks so much,” Buck said. He hurried down the hall, then stopped and turned around. “
Mother
Doe?”

“We have been through the alphabet several times with all the unidentified Does. By the time your wife arrived, we were into descriptive terms.”

“But she’s not.”

“Not what?”

“A mother.”

“Well, if she and the baby survive this, she
will
be, in about seven months.”

The doctor strode away; Buck nearly fainted.

Rayford and Mac sat at breakfast that morning planning the lengthy tour in the Condor 216 that would commence Friday. “So, what did His Excellency want last night?”

“His Excellency?”

“Haven’t you been informed that that’s what we’re to call him from now on?”

“Oh brother!”

“I got that straight from Leon, or should I say ‘Supreme Commander Leonardo Fortunato.’”

“That’s his new moniker?” Rayford nodded. Mac shook his head. “These guys get more like Keystone Kops all the time. All Carpathia wanted to know was how long I thought you’d be staying with him. I told him I thought that was up to him and he said no, that he sensed you were getting restless. I told him he ought to let up on you over that little incident near the airport, and he said he already had. He said he could have really come down hard on you for that, and he hoped you’d stay with him longer since he hadn’t.”

“Who knows?” Rayford said. “Anything else?”

“He wanted to know if I knew your son-in-law. I told him I knew who he was but that I had never met him.”

“Why do you think he asked that?”

“I don’t know. He was trying to get in good with me for some reason. Maybe he’s gonna be checking up on you. He told me he thought it strange that he’d gotten an intelligence report that Mr. Williams, as he likes to call him, had survived but not checked in. He told me Mr. Williams was publisher of
Global Community Weekly
, as if I wouldn’t know that.”