Arrived (19 page)

“The need will be so great,” Tsion said. “I am thankful you are thinking ahead to such a time. The truth is, these children will probably have about a hundred years to decide.”

“A hundred years?” Vicki said.

“Ask Naomi to print out the section of my teaching that deals with this. I think you will find it quite helpful.”

Before they left, Tsion led them again in prayer for their friends. Vicki thought of little Ryan and the others in Wisconsin and prayed that they would be kept safe.

19

MARK
ran through the forest and realized he didn't recognize anything. He heard the faint crackling of fire behind him and guessed the convoy was still inspecting the explosion. Mark needed to find something familiar— like the road. If he didn't, the GC could locate his friends before he did.

Mark turned to his right. The goggles bounced on his face as he jogged, so he took them off. Without them, he could barely see. He finally put them back on and slowed, making sure he didn't trip over dead branches or dips in the ground.

A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. His friends had no idea of the danger. He imagined the GC breaking into each cabin and hauling people out. Charlie would be so scared. Mark knew Tom Fogarty kept a gun in his cabin, but what good would it do?

Mark picked up his pace, the night-vision goggles bouncing crazily. It had been a long time since the group had even thought about a GC raid. When they had first arrived, Marshall had conducted surprise drills, but that had been so long ago Mark doubted anyone would remember what to do.

His legs ached from the pounding. He wanted to stop and rest but knew he had to keep going, keep moving toward his friends. He was their only chance of survival.

If he stopped, they died. Simple as that.

Mark felt a rage that pushed him on. He hated Nicolae Carpathia and everything the Global Community stood for. The man had brought such death and destruction to the world, and people still followed him. Mark recalled a different version of “Hail Carpathia” that Judd had sung:

Hey, Carpathia, you're not the risen king;
Hey, Carpathia, you don't rule anything.
We'll worship God until we die
And fight against you, Nicolae.
Hey, Carpathia, you're not the risen king
.

Mark chanted the words softly as he ran, moving his feet to the words. He had never been much of a singer, and his cousin John had made fun of him in church once. Mark smiled at the memory. John had been killed at sea by a giant wave, and Mark had never really gotten over John's death. Sure, he had gone on with his life and tried to help others come to know God, but John was always in the back of his mind. What would have happened if he had stayed with the group, instead of heading east and getting drafted by the GC?

There were so many what-ifs in Mark's world. The biggest was what would have happened if he had believed the message
before
the Rapture. He wouldn't have seen all the destruction, plagues, and deaths of friends.

His heart beat wildly and he gasped for air. He searched his mind for some verse of Scripture or words from a song to keep him going, but nothing came.

“God, I don't know why this is happening, and maybe you wanted me to go out tonight because you knew the GC were coming,” Mark prayed. “But whatever the reason, you put me here. Now help me reach my friends before it's too late.”

Lionel clicked on the computer's world-time function and saw it was 3 a.m. in Wisconsin. If the GC carried out their plans, they would catch his friends in the middle of a Bible study, trying to get the Web site running again, or worse, sleeping.

Lionel had never seen anyone work as hard as Chang at trying to override systems, but finally Chang threw up his hands. “I'm sorry, Lionel.”

A report from Commander Fulcire had sparked a bit of hope. “Explosion nearby—may be an attack,” the report said. But a few minutes later another report dashed Lionel's hopes. “False alarm. Explosion linked to dead Judah-ite's car. Someone may know we're coming, which means we're on the right track. Proceeding to target.”

“It's in God's hands now,” Chang said.

Lionel shook his head. “I wish there was something more we could do.”

Chang put a hand on Lionel's shoulder. “When I was in New Babylon, many times I felt like there was nothing I could do. But I realized the greatest thing any of us can do is pray and ask God to work out his will. You see, God really is
for
us. He wants to help us through difficulties. I used to think he should just take us out of them or solve them for us. But sometimes I think he shows himself greater by walking through our troubles with us. So let's invite him to have his perfect way in your friends' lives and in our lives too.”

Lionel nodded, then bowed his head. He prayed first for Mark.

A verse finally came to Mark, but it wasn't the one he wanted to think of.
“The greatest love is shown when people lay down their lives for their friends.”

Mark didn't want to lay down his life, though he had seen that done many times in the past six years. He thought of Natalie Bishop who had worked for the GC, Pete Davidson who had led the GC away from the kids, and Chloe Williams.

Mark had watched Chloe's execution with a mix of fascination and horror. The appearance of the angel at the event had raised many questions. Had he spoken with Chloe? Was that where she got the strength to be so bold at the end? And why didn't the angel rescue Chloe and the other believers who were executed?

Mark's right leg stuck in a hole, and he felt a sharp pain behind his knee. He stumbled forward, then fell back, grabbing his leg and screaming. He pulled his foot from the hole and rolled to his left side, holding his leg and rocking.

When he tried to stand he fell. He couldn't imagine taking another step, let alone running the rest of the way.

Something rumbled and the convoy approached. Mark lifted his head and realized he was sitting next to the dirt road leading to the cabins. The ground vibrated as the first Humvee approached, and Mark held his breath. “Keep going,” he whispered, putting his head back and closing his eyes.

Mark expected to hear brakes squeal, but the vehicles roared past.
They missed the entrance!
Mark thought.
Maybe they're not after us
.

When the last Humvee passed, Mark struggled to stand. He managed to put his weight on his left leg, but his right felt like a knife was sticking through it. He hopped up to the road and nearly passed out from the pain.

With short steps and hops he started toward the cabins, finding that putting his hand behind his right knee helped. He took off his belt and buckled it around his leg. The pressure seemed to work.

He kept going as quickly as possible. When he reached the trees surrounding the cabins, he left the dirt road and yelled for his friends.

Mark heard a noise to his right—something running. He set the night-vision goggles to macro and saw two eyes rushing for him.

Then he heard it. The most wonderful sound in the world!

Phoenix's bark!

“Come here, boy,” Mark said, sitting on the ground and gathering the dog in. “Go on back now and make some noise.”

He patted Phoenix's back and sent the barking dog away. Mark limped farther and saw a light in the distance from the main cabin. The door opened and someone called Phoenix.

“Help!” Mark hollered.

“Mark?” It was Marshall. “What are you doing?”

“Please, we don't have much time! Come get me.”

Marshall and Conrad carried him to the main cabin.

“GC, they passed me on the road. They're coming here.”

“How do you know?” Conrad said.

“I don't have time to convince you. Just get everybody out of here.”

Conrad nodded and hurried outside.

Marshall sat Mark on a chair and inspected his leg. “You might have torn some ligaments. We're going to need to look at it—”

“We can look at it later,” Mark said. “Do we have enough vehicles?”

“We should. What happened to the car you took?”

Mark told him.

Marshall scratched his chin. “We have the 15-passenger, another minivan, and some smaller—”

“Get them ready,” Mark said.

Tom Fogarty rushed inside. “I have Josey and Ryan in the van. Everybody else is gathering.”

Marshall handed him the keys. “Start it up while I help Mark to the—”

“No,” Mark interrupted. “I'm going alone.”

“That's crazy!” Marshall said.

“Go! I'm going to torch this place.”

“What if it's a false alarm?” Tom said.

“It's not,” Mark said. “It might already be too late. Now if you value your wife and son, go.”

Tom rushed outside.

“When you get to the main road, go west,” Mark said. “And keep your lights off. I'll follow as soon as I'm finished.”

Marshall hesitated and Mark pushed him toward the door. “Call Petra. Once you get far enough away from here, a cell might open up. Chang might be able to block the satellites they're using to find us.”

“We'll head for Lenore's place,” Marshall said. “We'll meet you there.” He gave Mark keys to a different car and hurried into the night.

Mark watched Charlie turn and wave. Janie and Shelly smiled at him.

When they finally pulled out, Mark grabbed lighter fluid and poured it on their computers. Anything that might lead the GC to someone inside the Tribulation Force or Young Tribulation Force had to be destroyed. He lit a match in the main cabin, took a deep breath, and threw it on the fluid. With a loud
whomp
, the fire began.

Mark hopped to the next cabin, tossing lighter fluid and a lit match inside. He knew this would attract the GC, but it had to be done.

Each step was painful, but Mark managed to make it to the end of the row of cabins, lighting fires and getting away. He hobbled back past the main cabin as the fire whistled and cracked. Mark found his car, a diesel, and it chugged to life. He pulled out, the fire lighting up the forest behind him. He pulled onto the path and gunned the engine.

He came to a stop at the main road and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Take that, Fulcire!” he whooped.

Mark turned the wheel to the right and started to pull out but stopped. He couldn't leave now. The GC would come back and see the fire, then go after his friends. Maybe there was something more he could do.

He turned around and headed back into the trees. He would figure out some way to delay the GC. Anything for his friends.

20

LIONEL
prayed for those in Wisconsin as Chang clicked his way through the Global Community network.

When Chang got through to GC satellite operations, he gasped. “They've got images of the hideout in Wisconsin!”

The screen showed a wide shot and a glow coming from the ground. Chang zoomed closer. “There's a fire.”

Lionel's heart sank. “We're too late.”

“Maybe not. I know the GC likes to burn people out, but if they knew this was Young Tribulation Force headquarters, they wouldn't have burned it before they got all the evidence.” Chang clicked on another computer and turned. “The latest message from Fulcire is a request for location, not a report that they've caught the rebels.”

Lionel glanced at the satellite image. “So you're saying our people might have figured it out and torched the place?”

“It's possible,” Chang said. “And if so, they're on the run. Which means we need to lock this thing up so the GC can't track them.”

“You can do that?”

Chang smiled. “We can do lots of things.” His fingers flashed over the keyboard like lightning as he went deep inside the satellite operation. “They won't even know what hit them.”

Five minutes later, Chang clicked his mouse a final time and sat back. “Want to know what they're seeing right now?”

Lionel nodded.

Chang clicked on the satellite image and crossed his arms. A huge, yellow smiley face appeared. Underneath was written,
Temporarily out of service. Thanks for your patience
.