The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (142 page)

“How are you feeling, Ken?” Buck asked over the phone.

“I’ve been better. There are days that hospital looks pretty good. But I’m a far sight better than I was last time I saw you. I’m supposed to get the stitches out Monday.”

“I’ve got another job for you, if you’re up to it.”

“I’m always game. Where we goin’?”

“Denver.”

“Hmm. The old airport’s open there, they tell me. The new one will probably never be open again.”

“We pick up an hour going, and I told my client I’d pick her up by noon.”

“Another damsel in distress?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. You got wheels?”

“Yep.”

“I need you to pick me up on the way this time. Need to leave a vehicle here.”

“I’d like to check in on Chloe anyway,” Ken said. “How’s she doing?”

“Come see for yourself.”

“I better get goin’ if you’re gonna keep your commitment. You never schedule a lot of play time, do ya?”

“Sorry. Hey, Ken, did you check out that Web site I told you about?”

“Yeah. I’ve spent a good bit of time there.”

“Come to any conclusions?”

“I need to talk to you about that.”

“We’ll have time in the air.”

“I appreciate your giving me so much flying time on this trip,” Mac said as he and Rayford left the plane.

“I had an ulterior motive. I know the FAA rules are out the window now that Carpathia is a law unto himself, but I still follow the maximum flying hours rules.”

“So do I. You going somewhere?”

“As soon as you teach me how to get around in the Challenger. I’d like to drop in on my daughter and surprise her. Buck gave me directions.”

“Good for you.”

“What are you gonna do, Mac?”

“Hole up here awhile. I got some buddies I might look up a couple hundred miles west. If I can track them down, I’ll use the chopper.”

Ken Ritz’s Suburban came rumbling around the back of the house just before nine.

“Somebody wants to see you when you’re halfway conscious,” Buck said.

“Find out if he wants to arm wrestle,” Chloe said.

“Aren’t
you
getting frisky?”

Tsion was on his way down the stairs when Buck met Ken at the back door. Ken wore cowboy boots, blue jeans, a long-sleeve khaki shirt, and a cowboy hat. “I know we’re in a hurry,” he said, “but where’s the patient?”

“Right here, Dr. Airplane,” Chloe said. She hobbled to the kitchen door. Ken tipped his hat.

“You can do better than that, cowboy,” she said, extending her good arm for a hug. He hurried to her.

“You sure look a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

He laughed. “I
am
a lot better. Notice anything different about me?”

“A little better color, I think,” Buck said. “And you might have gained a pound in the last day or two.”

“Never shows on this frame,” Ritz said.

“It has been a long time, Mr. Ritz,” Tsion said.

Ritz shook the rabbi’s hand. “Hey, we all look healthier than last time, don’t we?”

“We really need to get going,” Buck said.

“So nobody notices anything different about me, huh?” Ken said. “You can’t see it in my face? It doesn’t show?”

“What?” Chloe said. “Are you pregnant too?”

As the others laughed, Ken took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “First day I’ve been able to get a hat on this sore head.”

“So that’s what’s different?” Buck said.

“That, and this.” Ken ran his hand through his hair again, and this time left it atop his head with his hair pulled out of the way. “Maybe it shows on my forehead. I can see yours. Can you see mine?”

Rayford made the approach for yet another landing in the Challenger 3. “They’re getting tired of me hogging this runway. If I can’t get it right, you may have to fly me to Illinois.”

“Dallas Tower to Charlie Tango, over.”

Rayford raised an eyebrow. “See what I mean?”

“I’ll get it,” Mac said. “This is Charlie Tango, over.”

“Tango X-ray message for Condor 216 captain, over.”

“Go ahead with TX message, tower, over.”

“Subject is to call Supreme Commander at the following number. . . .”

Mac wrote it down.

“What now?” Rayford wondered aloud. He put the screaming jet down for his smoothest landing of the morning.

“Why don’t you take her back up,” Mac said, “then I’ll take over while you call Captain Kangaroo.”

“That’s Supreme Commander Kangaroo to you, pal,” Rayford said. He lined up the Challenger and hurtled down the runway at three hundred miles an hour. Once he was in the air and leveled off, Mac took the controls.

Rayford reached Fortunato at the ambassador’s residence. “I expected an immediate call,” Leon said.

“I’m in the middle of a training maneuver.”

“I have an assignment for you.”

“I have plans today, sir. Do I have a choice?”

“This is straight from the top.”

“My question remains.”

“No, you have no choice. If this delays our return, we will inform the respective ambassadors. His Excellency requests that you fly to Denver today.”

Denver?

“I’m not ready to fly this thing solo yet,” Rayford said. “Is this something my first officer can handle?”

“Intelligence sources have located the subject we asked you to communicate with. Follow?”

“I follow.”

“His Excellency would appreciate his message being delivered as soon as possible, in person.”

“What’s the rush?”

“The subject is at a Global Community facility that can assist in determining the consequences of the response.”

“She’s at an abortion clinic?”

“Captain Steele! This is an unsecured transmission!”

“I may have to fly commercial.”

“Just get there today. GC personnel are stalling the subject.”

“Before you go, Cameron,” Tsion said, “we must thank the Lord for our new brother.”

Buck, Chloe, Tsion, and Ken huddled in the kitchen. Tsion put a hand on Ken’s back and looked up. “Lord God Almighty, your Word tells us the angels rejoice with us over Ken Ritz. We believe the prophecy of a great soul harvest, and we thank you that Ken is merely one of the first of many millions who will be swept into your kingdom over the next few years. We know many will suffer and die at the hands of Antichrist, but their eternal fate is sealed. We pray especially that our new brother develops a hunger for your Word, that he possesses the boldness of Christ in the face of persecution, and that he be used to bring others into the family. And now may the God of peace himself sanctify us completely, and may our spirits, souls, and bodies be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. We believe that he who called us is faithful, who will also do it. We pray in the matchless name of Jesus, the Messiah and our Redeemer.”

Ken brushed tears from his cheeks, put his hat on, and pulled it down over his eyes. “Hoo boy! That’s what I call some prayin’!”

Tsion trotted upstairs and returned with a dog-eared paperback book called
How to Begin the Christian Life.

He handed it to Ken, who looked thrilled. “Will you sign it?”

“Oh, no,” Tsion said. “I did not write it. It was smuggled to me from Pastor Bruce Barnes’s library at the church. I know he would want you to have it. I must clarify that the Scriptures do not refer to us who become believers after the Rapture as Christians. We are referred to as tribulation saints. But the truths of this book still apply.”

Ken held it in both hands as if it were a treasure.

Tsion, nearly a foot shorter than Ken, put an arm around his waist. “As the new elder of this little band, allow me to welcome you to the Tribulation Force. We now number six, and one-third of us are pilots.”

Ritz went out to start the Suburban. Tsion wished Buck God’s speed and headed back upstairs. Buck drew Chloe to him and enveloped her like a fragile china doll. “Did you ever get hold of Hattie? Do we know her alias?”

“No. I’ll keep trying.”

“Keep following Dr. Tsion’s orders too, you hear?”

She nodded. “I know you’re coming right back, Buck, but I don’t like saying good-bye. Last time you left me I woke up in Minnesota.”

“Next week we’ll sneak Dr. Charles over here and get your stitches out.”

“I’m waiting for the day I have no more stitches, cast, cane, or limp. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.”

Buck cupped her face in his hands. Her right eye was still black and purple, her forehead crimson. Her right cheek was sunken where teeth were missing, and her cheekbone was broken.

“Chloe,” he whispered, “when I look at you I see the love of my life.” She started to protest and he shushed her. “When I thought I had lost you, I would have given anything to have you back for just one minute. I could look at you until Jesus comes and still want to share eternity with you.”

He helped her to a chair. Buck bent and kissed her between her eyes. Then their mouths met. “I wish you were going with me,” he whispered.

“When I get healthy, you’re going to wish I’d stay home once in a while.”

Rayford stalled as long as possible to get more comfortable with the Challenger 3 and also to make sure Buck and Ken Ritz got to Hattie before he did. He wanted to be able to tell Fortunato she was gone when he got there. Soon he would call Buck to warn him that the GC would try to keep her from bolting.

Rayford didn’t like his instructions. Fortunato would not commit to a specific destination. He said local GC forces would give Rayford that information. Rayford didn’t care where they wanted him to take Hattie. If this worked the way he hoped, she would be jetting back to the Chicago area with Buck and Ken, and his orders would be moot.

Buck would have to fly over a thousand miles to Denver, Rayford fewer than eight hundred. He throttled back, reaching nowhere near the potential of the powerful jet. An hour later, Rayford was on the phone with Buck. While they talked, a couple of calls came over his radio, but not hearing his call letters or name, he ignored them.

“Our ETA is noon at Stapleton,” Buck said. “Ken tells me I was too ambitious, promising we’d see her that early. She still has to tell us how to get there, and we haven’t been able to reach her. I don’t even know her alias.”

Rayford told him his own predicament.

“I don’t like it,” Buck said. “I don’t trust any of them with her.”

“The whole thing’s squirrelly.”

“Albie to Scuba, over,” the radio crackled. Rayford ignored it.

“I’m way behind you, Buck. I’ll make sure I don’t get there until around two.”

“Albie to Scuba, over,” the radio repeated.

“That’ll make it logical for Leon,” Rayford continued. “He can’t expect me to get there faster than that.”

“Albie to Scuba, do you read me, over?”

It finally sank in. “Hold on a minute, Buck.”

Rayford felt gooseflesh on his arms as he grabbed the mike. “This is Scuba. Go ahead, Albie.”

“Need your ten-twenty, Scuba, over.”

“Stand by.”

“Buck, I’m gonna have to call you back. Something’s up with Mac.”

Rayford checked his instruments. “Wichita Falls, Albie, over.”

“Put down at Liberal. Over and out.”

“Albie, wait. I—”

“Stay put and I’ll find you. Albie over and out.”

Why had Mac had to use code names? He set a course for Liberal, Kansas, and radioed the tower there for landing coordinates. Surely Mac wasn’t flying to Liberal on the Condor. But the chopper would take hours.

He got back on the radio. “Scuba to Albie, over.”

“Standing by, Scuba.”

“Just wondering if I could head back and meet you on your way, over.”

“Negative, Scuba. Over and out.”

Rayford phoned Buck and updated him.

“Strange,” Buck said. “Keep me posted.”

“Roger.”

“Want some good news?”

“Gladly.”

“Ken Ritz is the newest member of the Tribulation Force.”

Just before noon, Mountain Time, Ritz landed the Learjet at Stapleton Airport, Denver. Buck had still not heard from Chloe. He called her.

“Nothing, Buck. Sorry. I’ll keep trying. I called several reproductive centers there, but the ones I reached said they did only same-day surgery, no residents. I asked if they also delivered babies. They said no. I don’t know where to go from here, Buck.”

“You and me both. Keep trying her number.”

Rayford pacified suspicious tower personnel at the tiny Liberal airport by topping off his fuel tank. The base operator was surprised how little he needed.

He set his laptop near the cockpit window and sat on the tarmac surfing the Internet. He found Tsion’s bulletin board, which had become the talk of the globe. Hundreds of thousands of responses were added every day. Tsion continued to direct the attention of his growing flock to God himself. He added to his personal daily message a fairly deep Bible study aimed at the 144,000 witnesses. It warmed Rayford’s heart to read it, and he was impressed that a scholar was so sensitive to his audience. Besides the witnesses, his readers were the curious, the scared, the seekers, and the new believers. Tsion had something for everyone, but most impressive was his ability, as Bruce Barnes used to say, to “put the cookies on the lower shelf.”

Tsion’s writing read the way he sounded to Rayford in person when the Tribulation Force sat with him and discussed what Tsion called “the unsearchable riches of Christ Jesus.”

Tsion’s ability with the Scriptures, Rayford knew, had to do with more than just his facility with the languages and texts. He was anointed of God, gifted to teach and evangelize. That morning he had put the following call-to-arms on the Internet: