The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (138 page)

“’Course they saw right away there was just an empty gurney over there. One of the guys pokes his head in here and I raise way up on my tiptoes, doctorlike, and say, ‘If you don’t want typhoid fever, you’d better pull your face outta here.’”

“Typhoid fever?”

“It sounded good to me. And it did the trick.”

“That scared them off?”

“Well, almost. He shut the curtain and said from behind it, ‘Doctor, may we speak to you in private, please?’ I said, ‘I can’t leave my patient. And I’d have to scrub before I talk to anybody. I’m immune, but I can carry the disease.’”

Buck raised his eyebrows. “They bought this?”

Chloe shook her head, appearing amused.

Ken said, “Hey, I was good. They asked who my patient was. I could have told them Annie Ashton, but I thought it was more realistic if I acted insulted by the question. I said, ‘Her name’s not as important as her prognosis. Anyway, her name’s on the door.’ I heard them
tsk-tsk
ing and one said, ‘Is she conscious?’ I said, ‘If you’re not a doctor, it’s none of your business.’ The woman said something about their having a doctor who hadn’t caught up to them yet, and I said, ‘You can ask me whatever you need to know.’

“One of them says, ‘We know what it says on the door, but we were told Mother Doe was in that bed.’ I said, ‘I’m not going to stand here and argue. My patient is not Mother Doe.’

“One of the guys says, ‘You mind if we ask
her
what her name is?’ I say, ‘As a matter of fact, I do mind. She needs to concentrate on getting better.’ The guy says, ‘Ma’am, if you can hear me, tell me your name.’

“I nod to Chloe so she’ll tell ’em, but I’m stomping toward the curtain like I’m mad. She hesitates, not sure what I’m up to, but finally she says, acting real weak like, ‘Annie Ashton.’”

Chloe raised her hand. “Not acting,” she said. “Why’d they name me Mother Doe?”

“You don’t know?” Buck said, reaching for her hand.

She shook her head.

“Let me finish my story,” Ritz said. “I think they’re coming back. I whipped that curtain open and stared them down. I don’t guess they expected me to be so big. I said, ‘There! Satisfied? Now you’ve upset her and me too.’ The woman says, ‘Excuse us, Doctor, ah—’ and Chloe says, ‘Doctor Airplane.’ I had to bite my tongue. I said, ‘The medication’s getting to her,’ which it was. I said, ‘I’m Doctor Lalaine, but we’d better not shake hands, all things considered.’

“The rest of ’em are all crowded around the door, and the woman peeks through the curtain and says, ‘Do you have any idea what happened to Mother Doe?’ I tell her, ‘One patient from this room was taken to the morgue.’

“She says, ‘Oh, really?’ in a tone that tells me she doesn’t believe that one bit. She says, ‘What caused
this
young lady’s injuries? Typhoid?’ Real sarcastic. I wasn’t ready for that one, and while I’m trying to think up a smart, doctory answer, she says, ‘I’m going to have our physician examine her.’

“I tell her, ‘I don’t know how they do it where you’re from, but in this hospital only the attending physician or the patient can ask for a second opinion.’ Well, even though she’s a good foot shorter than me, she somehow looks down her nose at me. She says, ‘We are from the Global Community, here under orders from His Excellency himself. So be prepared to give ground.’

“I say, ‘Who the heck is His Excellency?’ She says, ‘Where have you been, under a rock?’ Well, I couldn’t tell her that was just about right and that because I had OD’d on tranqs I wasn’t too sure where I was now, so I said, ‘Servin’ mankind, trying to save lives, ma’am.’ She huffed out, and a couple minutes later, you walked in. You’re up-to-date.”

“And they’re bringing in a doctor,” Buck said. “Terrific. We’d better hide her someplace and see if we can get her lost in the system.”

“Answer me,” Chloe whispered.

“What?”

“Buck, am I pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Is the baby OK?”

“So far.”

“How ’bout me?”

“You’re pretty banged up, but you’re not in danger.”

“Your typhoid fever is almost gone,” Ritz said.

Chloe frowned. “Dr. Airplane,” she scolded. “Buck, I have to get better fast. What do these people want?”

“It’s a long story. Basically, they want to trade you for either Tsion or Hattie or both.”

“No,” she said, her voice stronger.

“Don’t worry,” Buck said. “But we’d better get going. We’re not going to fool a real doctor for long, despite Joe Thespian here.”

“That’s Dr. Airplane to you,” Ken said.

Buck heard people at the door. He dropped to the floor and crawled under two curtains, squatting in the area already crowded with both bed and gurney.

“Dr. Lalaine,” one of the men said, “this is our physician from Kenosha. We would appreciate it if you would let him examine this patient.”

“I don’t understand,” Ritz said.

“Of course you don’t,” the doctor said, “but I helped treat an unidentified patient yesterday who matched this description. That’s why I was invited.”

Buck shut his eyes. The voice sounded familiar. If it was the last doctor he had talked to in Kenosha, the one who’d taken pictures of Chloe, all hope was gone. Even if Buck surprised them and came out swinging, there was no way he could get Chloe out of that place.

Ritz said, “I’ve already told these people who this patient is.”

“And we’ve already proven your story false, Doctor,” the woman said. “We asked for Mother Doe in the morgue. It didn’t take long to determine that that was the real Ms. Ashton.”

Buck heard an envelope being opened, something being pulled out. “Look at these pictures,” the woman said. “She may not be a dead ringer, but she’s close. I think that’s her.”

“There’s one way to be sure,” the doctor said. “My patient had three small scars on her left knee from arthroscopic surgery when she was a teenager, and also an appendectomy scar.”

Buck was reeling. Neither was true of Chloe. What was going on?

Buck heard the rustle of blanket, sheet, and gown. “You know, this doesn’t really surprise me,” the doctor said. “I thought the face was a little too round and the bruising more extensive on this girl.”

“Well,” the woman said, “even if this isn’t who we’re looking for, it isn’t Annie Ashton, and she certainly doesn’t have typhoid fever.”

“Nobody in this hospital has typhoid fever,” Ken said. “I say that to keep people’s noses out of my patients’ business.”

“I want this man brought up on charges,” the woman said. “Why wouldn’t he know the name of his own patient?”

“There are too many patients right now,” Ken said. “Anyway, I was told this was Annie Ashton. That’s what it says on the door.”

“I’ll talk to the chief of staff here about Dr. Lalaine,” the doctor said. “I suggest the rest of you check admissions again for Mother Doe.”

“Doctor?” Chloe said in a tiny voice. “You have something on your forehead.”

“I do?” he said.

“I don’t see anything,” the woman said. “This girl is doped up.”

“No, I’m not,” Chloe said. “You do have something there, Doctor.”

“Well,” he said, pleasantly but dismissively, “you’re probably going to have something on your forehead too, once you recover.”

“Let’s get going,” one of the men said.

“I’ll find you after I’ve talked to the chief of staff,” the doctor said.

The others left. As soon as the door shut, the doctor said, “I know who
she
is. Who are
you
?”

“I’m Dr.—”

“We both know you’re no doctor.”

“Yes he is,” Chloe slurred. “He’s Dr. Airplane.”

Buck emerged from behind the curtain. “Dr. Charles, meet my pilot, Ken Ritz. Have you ever been an answer to prayer before?”

“It wasn’t easy getting assigned to this,” Floyd Charles said. “But I thought I might come in handy.”

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” Buck said.

“Keep in touch,” the doctor said. “I may need you someday. I suggest we transfer your wife out of here. They’ll come look more closely when they don’t find Mother Doe.”

“Can you arrange transportation to the airport and everything we’ll need to take care of her?” Buck asked.

“Sure. As soon as I get Dr. Airplane’s medical license suspended.”

Ken whipped off his smock. “I’ve had enough of doctorin’ anyway,” he said. “I’m going back to sky jockeying.”

“Will I be able to take care of her at home?” Buck asked.

“She’ll be in a lot of pain for a long time and may never feel like she used to, but there’s nothing life-threatening here. The baby’s fine too, as far as we know.”

“I didn’t know until today,” Chloe said. “I suspected, but I didn’t know.”

“You almost gave me away with that forehead remark,” Dr. Charles said.

“Yeah,” Ken said. “What was that all about?”

“I’ll tell you both on the plane,” Buck said.

Early Thursday morning in New Babylon, Nicolae Carpathia and Leon Fortunato met with Rayford. “We have communicated your itinerary to the dignitaries,” Carpathia said. “They have arranged for appropriate accommodations for the Supreme Commander, but you and your first officer should make your own arrangements.”

Rayford nodded. This meeting, as with so many, was unnecessary.

“Now on a personal note,” Carpathia added, “while I understand your position, it has been decided not to dredge the wreckage of the Pan-Con flight from the Tigris. I am sorry, but it has been confirmed your wife was on board. We should consider that her final resting place, along with the other passengers.”

Rayford believed in his gut Carpathia was lying. Amanda was alive, and she was certainly no traitor to the cause of Christ. He and Mac had scuba gear coming, and while he had no idea where Amanda
was
, he would start by proving she was
not
on board that submerged 747.

Two hours before flight time Friday, Mac told Rayford he had replaced the fixed-wing aircraft in the cargo hold. “We’re already takin’ the chopper,” he said. “That little two-engine job is redundant. I replaced it with the Challenger 3.”

“Where’d you find that?” The Challenger was about the size of a Learjet but nearly twice as fast. It had been developed during the last six months.

“I thought we lost everything but the chopper, the fixed-wing, and the Condor. But beyond the rise in the middle of the airstrip, I found the Challenger. I had to install a new antenna and a new tail rudder system, but she’s good as new.”

“I wish I knew how to fly it,” Rayford said. “Maybe I could see my family while Fortunato’s laying over in Texas.”

“They found your daughter?”

“Just got the word. She’s banged up, but she’s fine. And I’m going to be a grandpa.”

“That’s great, Ray!” Mac said, patting Rayford on the shoulder. “I’ll teach you the Challenger. You’ll know how to drive it in no time.”

“I’ve got to finish packing and get an e-mail to Buck,” Rayford said.

“You’re not sending or receiving through the system here, are you?”

“No. I got a coded e-mail from Buck informing me when my private phone would be ringing. I made sure I was outside at that time.”

“We’ve got to talk to Hassid about how secure the Internet is in here. You and he and I have all been on the Net, keeping track of your friend Tsion. I’m worried that the brass can tell who’s been on. Carpathia’s got to be furious about Tsion. We could all be in trouble.”

“David told me that if we stay with the bulletin boards, we’re not traceable.”

“He’d like to be going with us, you know,” Mac said.

“David? I know. But we need him right where he is.”

The flight to Waukegan had been difficult for Chloe. The drive from Waukegan to Wheeling to drop off Ken Ritz, and then on to Mt. Prospect, was worse. She had slept in Buck’s arms during virtually the entire flight, but the Range Rover had been torture.

The best Buck could do was let her lie across the backseat, but one of the fasteners connecting the seat to the floor had broken loose during the earthquake, so he had to drive even slower than normal. Still, Chloe seemed to bounce the whole way. Finally Ken knelt, facing the back, and tried to brace the seat with his hands.

When they got to Palwaukee Airport, Buck walked Ken to the Quonset hut where he had been given a corner to move into. “Always an adventure,” Ken said wearily. “One of these days you’re gonna get me killed.”

“It was stupid to ask you to fly so soon after surgery, Ken, but you were a lifesaver. I’ll send you a check.”

“You always do. But I also want to know more about where all you guys are, you know, with your beliefs and everything.”

“Ken, we’ve been through this before. It’s becoming pretty clear now, wouldn’t you say? This whole period of history, this is it. Just a little more than five more years, and it’s all over. I can see why people might not have understood what was happening before the Rapture. I was one of them. But it’s come to one giant countdown. The whole deal now is which side you’re on. You’re either serving God or you’re serving the Antichrist. You’ve been a supplier for the good guys. It’s time you joined our team.”

“I know, Buck. I’ve never seen anything like how you people take care of each other. It’d be good for me if I could see it all one more time in black and white, you know, like on one sheet of paper, pros and cons. That’s how I am. I figure it out, and I make my decision.”

“I can get you a Bible.”

“I’ve got a Bible somewhere. Are there like one or two pages that have the whole deal spelled out?”

“Read John. And then Romans. You’ll see the stuff we’ve talked about. We’re sinners. We’re separated from God. He wants us back. He’s provided the way.”

Ken looked uncomfortable. Buck knew he was light-headed and in pain. “Have you got a computer?”

“Yeah, and of course an e-mail address.”

“Let me have it, and I’ll write down a newsgroup for you. The guy you brought back from Egypt with me is the hottest thing on the Internet. Talk about putting everything on one page for you, he does it.”

“So once I join up I get the secret mark on my forehead?”

“You sure do.”

Buck reclined the front passenger seat and moved Chloe there. But it wasn’t flat enough, and she soon retreated again to the back. When Buck finally pulled into the backyard at Donny’s, Tsion rushed out to greet Chloe. As soon as he saw her he burst into tears. “Oh, you poor child. Welcome to your new home. You are safe.”

Tsion helped Buck remove her from the backseat and opened the door so Buck could carry her inside. Buck headed for the stairs, but Tsion stopped him. “Right here, Cameron. See?” Tsion had brought down his bed for her. “She cannot use the stairs yet.”

Buck shook his head. “I suppose next comes the chicken soup.”

Tsion smiled and pushed a button on the microwave. “Give me sixty seconds.”

But Chloe did not eat. She slept through the night and off and on the next day.

“You need a goal,” Tsion told her. “Where would you like to go on your first day out?”

“I want to see the church. And Loretta’s house.”

“Will not that be—”

“It will be painful. But Buck says if I hadn’t run, I never would have survived. I need to see why. And I want to see where Loretta and Donny died.”

When she hobbled to the kitchen table and sat by herself, she asked only for her computer. It pained Buck to watch her peck away with one hand. When he tried to help, she rebuffed him. He must have looked hurt.

“Honey, I know you want to help,” she said. “You searched for me until you found me, and nobody can ask for more than that. But, please, don’t do anything for me unless I ask.”

“You never ask.”

“I’m not a dependent person, Buck. I don’t want to be waited on. This is war, and there aren’t enough days left to waste. As soon as I get this hand working, I’m gonna take some of the load off Tsion. He’s on the computer day and night.”

Buck got his own laptop and wrote to Ken Ritz about the possibility of going to Israel. He couldn’t imagine it ever being safe for Tsion there, but Tsion was so determined to go, Buck was afraid there would be no choice. His ulterior motive with Ken, of course, was to see if he had come to a spiritual decision. As he was transmitting the message, Chloe called out from the kitchen.

“Oh, my word! Buck! You’ve got to see this!”

He hurried to peer over her shoulder. The message on the screen was several days old. It was from Hattie Durham.

Rayford was afraid Leon Fortunato would be bored on the trip to Rome and might pester him and Mac in the cockpit. But every time Rayford clicked on the secret intercom to monitor the cabin, Leon was whistling, humming, singing, talking on the phone, or noisily moving about.

Once Rayford had Mac take over while he found an excuse to wander into the cabin. Leon was arranging the mahogany table where he and Pontifex Maximus Peter Mathews and the ten kings would meet prior to seeing Carpathia.

Leon looked excited enough to burst. “You will remain in the cockpit as soon as our guests join us, will you not?”

“Sure,” Rayford said. It was clear Leon needed no company.

Rayford didn’t expect any secrets listening in on Leon and Mathews, but he loved the entertainment possibilities. Fortunato was such a Carpathia groupie and Mathews so condescending and independent that the two were like oil and water. Mathews was used to being treated like royalty. Fortunato treated Carpathia like the king of the world that he was but was slow to serve anyone else and often curt with those who served him.

When Mathews boarded in Rome he immediately treated Fortunato as one of his valets. And he already had two. A young man and woman carried his things aboard and stood chatting with him. As Rayford listened in, he was exposed again to Mathews’s gall. Every time Fortunato suggested it was time to get under way, Mathews interrupted.

“Could I get a cold drink, Leon?” Mathews said.

There was a long pause. “Certainly,” Fortunato said flatly. Then, with sarcasm, “And your staff?”

“Yes, something for them as well.”

“Fine, Pontiff Mathews. And then I think we should really be—”

“And something to munch. Thank you, Leon.”

After two such encounters, Fortunato’s silence was deafening. Finally Leon said, “Pontiff Mathews, I really think it’s time—”

“How long are we going to sit here, Leon? What do you say we get this show on the road?”

“We cannot move with unauthorized personnel on the plane.”

“Who’s not authorized?”

“Your people.”

“I introduced you, Leon. These are my personal assistants.”

“You were under the impression they were invited?”

“I go nowhere without them.”

“I’m going to have to check with His Excellency.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll have to check with Nicolae Carpathia.”

“You said ‘His Excellency.’”

“I planned to talk that over with you en route.”

“Talk to me now, Leon.”

“Pontiff, I would appreciate your addressing me by my title. Is that too much to ask?”

“Titles are what we’re talking about. Where does Carpathia get off using
Excellenc
y
?”

“It was not his choice. I—”

“Yes, and I suppose
Potentate
wasn’t his choice either.
Secretary-general
just never did it for him, did it?”

“As I said, I want to discuss the new title with you during the trip.”

“Then let’s get going!”

“I’m not authorized to transport uninvited guests.”

“Mr. Fortunato, these are
invited
guests. I invited them.”

“My title is not
mister.”

“Oh, so the Potentate is now His Excellency and you’re what, Potentate? No, let me guess. You’re Supreme Something-or-Other. Am I right?”

“I need to check this with His Excellency.”

“Well, hurry. And tell ‘His Excellency’ that Pontifex Maximus thinks it’s nervy to switch from a royal title—already an overstatement—to a sacred one.”

Rayford heard only Fortunato’s end of the conversation with Nicolae, of course, but Leon had to eat crow.

“Pontiff,” he said finally, “His Excellency has asked me to express his welcome and his assurance that anyone you feel necessary to make your flight comfortable is an honor for him to have on board.”

“Really?” Mathews said. “Then I insist on a cabin crew.” Fortunato laughed. “I’m serious, Leon—or, I mean, what
is
your title, man?”

“I serve at the rank of Commander.”

“Commander? Tell the truth now, Commander, is it actually
Supreme
Commander?” Fortunato did not respond, but Mathews must have detected something in his face. “It is, isn’t it? Well, even if it isn’t, I insist. If I am to call you Commander, it shall be Supreme Commander. Is that acceptable?”

Fortunato sighed loudly. “The actual title is Supreme Commander, yes. You may call me either.”

“Oh, no I may not. Supreme Commander it is. Now, Supreme Commander Fortunato, I am deadly serious about cabin service on a long flight like this, and I’m shocked at your lack of foresight in not providing it.”

“We have all the amenities, Pontiff. We felt it more necessary to have a full complement of service personnel when the regional ambassadors begin to join us.”

“You were wrong. I wish not to leave the ground until this plane is properly staffed. If you have to check that with His Excellency, feel free.”

There was a long silence, and Rayford assumed the two were staring each other down. “You’re serious about this?” Fortunato said.

“Serious as an earthquake.”

The call button sounded in the cockpit. “Flight deck,” Mac said. “Go ahead.”

“Gentlemen, I have decided to employ a cabin crew between here and Dallas. I shall be contracting with one of the airlines here. Please communicate with the tower that we could be delayed for as long as two or three hours. Thank you.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Mac said, “but our delay here has already cost us four places in line for takeoff. They’re being flexible because of who we are, but—”

“Did you misunderstand something?” Leon said.

“Not at all, sir. Roger that delay.”

Hattie’s e-mail message read:

I need your help. I lied to my former boss and told him my people were from Denver. When I changed my flight from Boston to go west instead of east, I was hoping he would think I was going to see my family. Actually, they live in Santa Monica. I’m in Denver for a whole other reason.

I’m at a reproductive clinic here. Now, don’t overreact. Yes, they do abortions, and they’re pushing me that direction. In fact, that’s mostly what they do. But they do also ask every mother if she’s considered her options, and every once in a while a baby is carried to term. Some are put up for adoption; some are raised by the mother. Others are raised by the clinic.

This place also serves as a safe house, and I am here anonymously. I cut my hair short and dyed it black, and I wear colored contact lenses. I’m sure no one recognizes me.

They give us access to these computers a few hours every week. At other times we write things and draw pictures and exercise. They also encourage us to write to friends and loved ones and make amends. Sometimes they urge us to write to the fathers of our children.

I couldn’t do that. But I do need to talk to you. I have a private satellite phone. Do you have a number like AS does? I’m scared. I’m confused. Some days abortion seems the easiest solution. But I’m already growing attached to this child. I might be able to give it up, but I don’t think I could end its life. I told a counselor I felt guilty about becoming pregnant when I wasn’t married. She had never heard anything like that in her life. She said I ought to stop obsessing about right and wrong and start thinking about what was best for me.