The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (177 page)

“I do not know with whom I am or should be negotiating, but I assure whoever it is that I stand willing to make whatever other concessions would move us closer to the end of this plague of darkness.”

He turned on his heel, sarcastically saluted the two witnesses, and reboarded the motor coach. As the TV crew rushed to gather their equipment, the witnesses spoke in unison from where they sat, clearly loud enough for anyone, even Carpathia, to hear.

“Woe, woe, woe unto all who fail to look up and lift up your heads!”

Two days later, the sun rose bright and full and the earth began to thaw. Buck made plans to fly home freely under his own name. “I can’t fly directly to Chicago commercially,” he told Rayford, “even with the reconstruction of Midway. I have to go through Europe.”

“Any connections through Athens?”

“I’ll check. Why?”

Rayford asked that he check on Lukas Miklos. “I’ll see if he can greet you at the airport. It won’t delay your trip home, and it’ll really encourage him.”

In Mount Prospect, Tsion told Rayford he was working on what would be his most dramatic and ominous warning yet. Meanwhile he broadcast worldwide over the Internet: “Because of the proven truth of Luke 21, I urge all, believers and unbelievers alike, to train your eyes on the skies. I believe this is the message from the two witnesses.”

Doc Charles dug out and cleaned up Donny Moore’s telescope, and with millions around the world, began monitoring the heavens. But when Tsion announced in one of his daily messages that he was planning to build a Web site that would allow others to watch the skies through the same telescope, Rayford received a frantic call from David Hassid in New Babylon.

“Glad I caught you,” he said breathlessly. “How far along are you on that telescope Web site idea?”

“Couple of days yet. Won’t take our people long.”

“You don’t want to do that. A little software and a bright astronomer could just about pinpoint where you guys are.”

Rayford put a hand atop his head. “Thanks for that, David. I never would have thought of it.”

“Anyway, the potentate himself has authorized the purchase of a colossal telescope, and I get to work with the guys who will man it. Several can monitor it at once through various computers.”

“Well, David, you know what we’re looking for.”

“I sure do.”

The following week, news programs reported that stargazers from around the globe were tracking what appeared at first to be a shooting star. But this one, first seen during nighttime hours in Asia, did not streak across the sky for a second or two and disappear. Neither was this hurtling object in an orbital trajectory.

Astronomers were fond of explaining that, due to the distance from the earth of even the nearest stars, much of the activity seen from earth actually occurred years before and were just being seen now.

But after several hours of every amateur and professional telescope jockey in the world tracking it, it was becoming clear that this was no ordinary star. Neither was this an event that had happened years before. Experts unable to identify it agreed it was tiny, it was falling straight, and it had been descending a long time. It radiated little heat but seemed to emit its own light as well as reflecting light from stars and the sun, depending on the time of day.

The more closely it was studied, the less a threat it appeared to Earth. The head of GCASA said it had every chance of burning up as it hit Earth’s atmosphere. “But even if it remains intact, it has a high probability of landing harmlessly in water. From what we are able to speculate about its mass and density, if it was to hit land, it would suffer far more damage than it could inflict. In all likelihood, it would be vaporized.”

Still, none seemed able to turn their telescopes from it. Eventually the unidentified falling object was projected to land somewhere in an uninhabited region of the Fertile Crescent, near what many believed was the cradle of civilization.

GC scientists reached the projected touchdown point in time to see the impact, but they reported that it appeared to slip past the earth’s surface into a deep crevice. Aerial studies of the area showed the impossibility of vehicular or foot traffic to more closely evaluate the object and its effect or lack thereof on the earth’s crust.

As planes circled and shot still pictures and videotape, however, a geological eruption registered high on the Richter scale of seismology sensors all over the world. This thing that fell to earth, whatever it was, had somehow triggered volcanolike activity deep beneath the earth’s surface.

The shock wave alone blew the surveillance planes off course and forced their pilots to fight to stay airborne and escape the area. Astounding scientists, the first evidence of what happened beneath the earth was a mushroom cloud a thousand times bigger and launched with that much more power and speed than any in history produced by bombs or natural phenomena. Also unique about this eruption was that it came from the crevice below sea level rather than from the typical volcanic mountain.

Cameras a thousand miles from the source of the cloud picked up images of it within twelve hours. Rather than being carried on indiscriminate winds, this cloud—massive and growing, fed from the belching earth—spread equally in all directions and threatened to block the sun all over the globe.

And this was no smoky cloud that thinned and dissipated as it traveled. The thick fumes that gushed from the ground were dense and black like the base of a gasoline fire. Scientists feared the source of the smoke was a colossal fire that would eventually rise and shoot flames miles into the air.

Early the following Monday afternoon in Jerusalem, Buck was devastated to learn that his flight to Athens and then on to the States had been cancelled. The billowing cloud of smoke that blanketed the earth had affected daylight again. Buck had looked forward to a two-hour layover during which he would meet Lukas Miklos. He was then to switch planes and fly nonstop the rest of the way to Chicago’s Midway Airport. He was to proceed from there to Mount Prospect only after determining that he would not lead any enemies to the safe house. He and the Stateside members of the Tribulation Force had developed options to misdirect tails and shake them free.

Instead Buck hurried to Chaim Rosenzweig’s home under the cover of darkness. “Be wary of Carpathia’s claim that you are not still a suspect,” Chaim said. “Nicolae is not speaking to me. Leon is fuming. While they cannot casually renege on their agreement, they will soon find some justification.”

“Don’t worry. I’m so eager to see Chloe, I may fly under my own power.”

“Be careful of Enigma Babylon.”

“What’s Peter up to now?”

“You haven’t heard?”

Buck shook his head. “Too busy getting ready to go.”

Chaim turned on the TV. “I could quote this by heart, I’ve heard it so many times today. It’s the only thing in the news outside the smoking volcano.”

Mathews, in full clerical regalia again, spoke to the camera. “The Global Community may have a tacit agreement with black-magic religious terrorists, but the time has come to enforce the law. Enigma Babylon One World Faith is
the
accepted religion for the whole world. As much as it is in my power—and a careful reading of the Global Community charter reveals that this clearly falls within my purview—I will prosecute offenders. So that all may be clear, I consider exclusivist, intolerant, one-way-only beliefs antithetical to true religion. If, because of misplaced diplomacy, the Global Community administration feels it must allow diversions from cosmic truth, Enigma Babylon itself must go on the offensive.

“To be an atheist or an agnostic is one thing. Even they are welcome beneath our all-inclusive banner. But it is illegal to practice a form of religion that flies in the face of our mission. Such practitioners and their followers will suffer.

“As a first initiative in a sweeping effort to rid the world of intolerance, it shall be deemed criminal, as of midnight Tuesday, Greenwich Mean Time, for anyone to visit the Web site of the so-called Tribulation Force. The teachings of this cult’s guru, Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah, are poison to people of true faith and love, and we will not tolerate this deadly toxin pushed like a drug.

“Technology is in place that can monitor the Internet activity of any citizen, and those whose records show they have accessed this site after the deadline shall be subject to fine and imprisonment.”

A Global Community reporter interrupted. “Two-part question, Supreme Pontiff: One, how does imprisoning people for what they access on the Web jibe with tolerance, faith, and love? And two, if you can monitor everyone’s Internet activity, why can’t you trace where Ben-Judah transmits from and shut him down?”

“I’m sorry,” one of his aides said as Peter the Second was ushered away, “but we established in advance that we would not have time for questions.”

I’d like to get a peek at that reporter’s forehead, Buck thought. It made him wish his cover had not been blown and that he was still working from the inside.

It was early morning in the Chicago area as Rayford pulled away from the safe house in Buck’s Range Rover. Despite the smoky skies, he felt he had to get to Palwaukee and check on the condition of Ken Ritz’s Suburban. It seemed in better shape than the Rover. The Trib Force could use it, but Rayford didn’t know how a dead man’s belongings should be disposed of, especially those of a man with no living kin.

Rayford suddenly heard a voice, as if someone were in the car with him. The radio was off and he was alone, but he heard, clear as if from the best sound system available: “Woe, woe, woe to the inhabitants of the earth, because of the remaining blasts of the trumpet of the three angels who are about to sound!”

His phone chirped. It was David from New Babylon. “Captain Steele, I’m outside right now, and I don’t know what kind of spin we’re going to put on this one, but I’ll bet my life it’ll never make the news.”

“I heard it. It doesn’t have to make the news.”

“Everybody in here saw it before we heard it. Well, at least our equipment detected it. We can’t see a thing through this cloud of smoke. But because we have huge radio receivers pointed at the sky anyway, it was plain as day here. I asked a Turkish guy what language it was in, and he said his own. Well, I heard it in English, so you know what I think.”

“You
saw
the angel?”

“OK, we worked all night because somebody’s probe detected something. The digital facsimile made it look like some sort of heavenly body, a comet or something. He gets it all tracked in and measured and whatnot, and we all start studying it. Well, I’m no astronomer so I haven’t got a clue what I’m looking at. I tell ’em it looks real small to me, and not very thick. They’re all congratulating me because it gave the lead guy an idea. He says, ‘All right, let’s assume it’s closer and smaller. A lot smaller.’ So he turns the dials and resets the probe, and all of a sudden the computer is spitting out images we can see and understand. It looked transparent and sorta humanlike, but not really. Anyway, we’re following this thing, and then the boss says to point
all
the radio satellite dishes at it and try to track it that way, the way we do the stars in the daylight. Next thing you know, we hear the announcement.

“Well, it’s all staticky and crackly, and we miss the first word, but of course I’ve been reading Dr. Ben-Judah’s stuff, so I know what it is. Because the next two words are the same, and clear. I’m telling you, Captain, it freaked out
everybody
, and I mean everybody. Guys were on the floor, crying.

“They’ve been playing the tape over and over in there, and I even copied it on my dictation machine. But you know what? It records only in Greek. Everybody heard it in his own language, but it was Greek.”

Buck heard the angel and mistook it for the TV until he saw the look on Chaim’s face. The old man was terrified. How could he, or anyone, doubt the existence of God now? This was no longer about ignorance. It was about choice.

Rayford parked near the hangar where Ken Ritz had lived before moving to the safe house. There, his head under the hood of Ritz’s Suburban, was Ernie, the new believer. He looked up and squinted through the haze as Rayford approached. Ernie smiled, shook his hand with enthusiasm, and pushed his greasy hat back on his head. The mark on his forehead stood out clearly as if he was proud of it, but he was also shivering.

“That was scary, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Shouldn’t be to those of us who knew it was coming,” Rayford said. “You have nothing to fear. Not even death. None of us wants to die, but we know what comes next.”

“Yeah,” Ernie said, adjusting his hat again. “But still!”

“How’s Ken’s car doing?”

Ernie turned back to the engine. “Pretty good shape for all it’s been through, I’d say.”

“You find this therapeutic?”

“I’m sorry,” Ernie said. “I was never much of a student. What’s that mean?”

“Does it help you remember Ken without it being too painful for you?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t really know him that long. I mean, I was shocked, and I’ll miss him. But I just did stuff for him. He paid me, you know.”

“But you both being believers—”

“Yeah, that was good. He put me onto that Ben-Judah guy’s Web site.”

A car pulled up to the rebuilt tower across the way and two men—in shirts and ties—got out. One was tall and black, the other stocky and white. The first went into the tower. The other approached Ernie and Rayford. Ernie emerged from under the hood again and pulled his cap low across his brow. “Hey, Bo!” he said. “D’ya hear that voice out of the sky?”