Soul Harvest:
The World Takes Sides
Book 4 of the Left Behind Series
Though water provided nearly the same weightlessness as outer space, pushing debris up and out and displacing rows of seats with bodies attached was grueling. Rayford's light was dim and his air supply low. His scalp wound throbbed, and he felt light-headed. He assumed Mac was in the same shape, but neither signaled any intention of quitting.
Rayford expected to feel awful searching corpses, but deep foreboding overwhelmed him. What a macabre business! Victims were bloated, horribly disfigured, hands in fists, arms floating. Their hair waved with the motion of the water. Most eyes and mouths were open, faces black, red, or purple.
Rayford felt a sense of urgency. Mac tapped him, pointed to his gauge, and held up ten fingers. Rayford tried to work faster, but having checked only sixty or seventy bodies, there was no way he could finish without another air tank. He could work only five more minutes.
Directly below was an intact middle section row. It faced the front of the plane, as did ail the others, but had rotated a little further. All he saw in his fading light were the backs of five heads and the heels of ten feet. Seven shoes had come loose. He had never understood the phenomenon of the contraction of human feet in the face of violent collision. He estimated this row had been driven forward as many as twenty-five feet. He motioned to Mac to grab the armrest at one end while he took the other. Mac held up one finger, as if this needed to be the last effort before they surfaced. Rayford nodded.
As they tried to pull the row upright, it caught something and they had to reposition it and yank again. Mac's end came up slightly ahead of Rayford's, but when Rayford jostled his it finally rotated. The five bodies now rested on their backs. Rayford shined his flickering light into the panic-stricken face of an elderly man in a three-piece suit. The man's bloated hands floated before Rayford's face. He gently nudged them aside and directed his beam to the next passenger. She was salt-and-pepper-haired. Her eyes were open, her expression blank. The neck and face were discolored and swollen, but her arms did not rise as the others. She had apparently grabbed her laptop computer case and hooked its strap in the crook of her arm. Entwining her fingers, she had died with her hands pressed between her knees, the computer bag secure at her side.
Rayford recognized the earrings, the necklace, the jacket. He wanted to die. He could not take his eyes from hers. The irises had lost all color, and her image was one he would fight to forget. Mac hurried to him and gripped a biceps in each hand. Rayford felt his gentle tug. Dazed, he turned to Mac.
Mac tapped urgently on Rayford's tank. Rayford was drifting, having lost sense of what he was doing. He didn't want to move. He suddenly became aware his heart was thudding and he would soon be out of oxygen. He didn't want Mac to know. He was tempted to suck in enough water to flood his lungs and reunite him with his beloved.
It was too much to hope for. He should have known Mac would not have used up his own air supply as quickly. Mac pried apart Amanda's fingers and pulled the case strap over his head so the laptop hung behind his tanks.
Rayford felt Mac behind him, his forearms under his armpits. Rayford wanted to fight him off, but Mac had apparently thought ahead. At Rayford's first hint of resistance, Mac yanked both hands out and pinned Rayford's arms back. Mac kicked mightily and steered them out of the carcass of the 747 and into the rushing current. He made a controlled ascent.
Rayford had lost the will to live. When they broke the surface, he spit out his regulator and with it the sobs gushed out. He cried a fierce, primal wail that pierced the night and reflected the agonizing loneliness of his soul. Mac talked to him, but Rayford was not listening.
Mac manhandled him, kicking, staying afloat, dragging him toward the bank. While Rayford's system greedily took in the life-giving air, the rest of him was numb. He wondered if he could swim if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He felt sorry for Mac, working so hard to push a bigger man up the muddy slope onto the sand.
Rayford continued to bawl, the sound of his despair frightening even himself. But he could not stop. Mac yanked off his own mask and popped out his mouthpiece, then reached for Rayford's. He unstrapped Rayford's tanks and set them aside. Rayford rolled over and lay motionless on his back.
Mac peeled back Rayford's torn headliner to reveal blood inside his suit. With his head and face bare, Rayford's cries turned to moans. Mac sat on his haunches and breathed deeply. Rayford watched like a cat, waiting for him to relax, to step back, to believe this was over.
But it was not over. Rayford had truly believed, truly felt Amanda had survived and that he would be reunited with her. He had been through so much in the last two years, but there had always been grace in just enough measure to keep him sane. Not now. He didn't even want it. Ask God to carry him through? He could not face five more years without Amanda.
Mac stood and began unzipping his own wet suit. Rayford slowly lifted his knees and dug his heels deep into the sand. He pushed so hard he felt the strain deep in both hamstrings as the thrust carried him over the edge. As if in slow motion, Rayford felt cool air on his face as he dropped headfirst into the water. He heard Mac swear and shout, “Oh, no you don't!”
Mac would have to slip off his own tanks before jumping in. Rayford only hoped he could elude him in the dark or be lucky enough to have Mac land on him and knock him unconscious. His body plummeted through the water, then turned and began to rise. He moved not a finger, hoping the Tigris would envelop him forever. But somehow he could not will himself to gulp in the water that would kill him.
He felt the shock and heard Mac splash past him. Mac's hands brushed him as he slid past feet first. Rayford couldn't muster the energy to resist. From deep in his heart came sympathy for Mac, who didn't deserve this. It wasn't fair to make him work so hard. Rayford carried his own weight enough on the way back to the bank to show Mac he was finally cooperating. As he hauled himself up onto the sand again, he fell to his knees and pressed his cheek to the ground.
“I have no answers for you right now, Ray. Just hear me. To die in this river tonight, you're going to have to take me with you. You got that?”
Rayford nodded miserably.
Without another word, Mac pulled Rayford to his feet. He examined Rayford's wound with his fingers in the darkness. He removed Rayford's fins, stacked them with the mask on top of his tanks, and handed the set to Rayford. Mac picked up his own gear and led the way back to the chopper. There he stored the gear, helped Rayford out of his wet suit like a little boy getting ready for bed, and tossed him a huge towel. They changed into dry clothes.
Without warning, Rayford's punctured scalp felt as if it were being pelted by rocks. He covered his head and bent at the waist but now felt the same sharp stings on his arms, his neck, his back. Had he pushed too far? Had he been foolish to continue a dive with an open wound? He peeked as Mac lurched toward the chopper.
“Get in, Ray! It's hailing!”
Buck had always enjoyed storms. At least before he lived through the wrath of the Lamb. As a boy he had sat before the picture window in his Tucson home and watched the rare thunderstorm. Something about the weather since the Rapture, however, spooked him.
Dr. Charles left instructions on how to care for Hattie, then departed for Kenosha. As the afternoon steadily grew darker, Chloe found extra blankets for the dozing Hattie while Tsion and Buck closed windows.
“I am taking only half a risk,” Tsion said. “I am going to run my computer on batteries until the storm passes, but I will remain connected to the phone lines.”
Buck laughed. “For once I am able to correct the brilliant scholar,” he said. “You forget we are running the electricity on a gas-powered generator, unlikely to be affected by the storm. Your phone line is connected to the dish on the roof, the highest point here. If you are worried about lightning, you'd be better to disconnect the phone and connect the power.”
“I will, never be mistaken for an electrician,” Tsion said, shaking his head. “The truth is, I need not be connected to the Internet for a few hours either.” He went upstairs.
Buck and Chloe sat next to each other at the foot of Hattie's bed. “She sleeps too much,” Chloe said. “And she's so pale.”
Buck was lost in his thoughts of the dark secrets that burdened Hattie. What would Rayford think of the possibility that Bruce had been poisoned? Rayford always said it was strange how peaceful Bruce looked compared to the other victims of the bombing. Doctors had come to no conclusions about the illness he had brought back from the Third World. Who would have dreamed Carpathia might be behind that?
Buck also still struggled with his killing of the Global Community guard. The videotape had been shown over and over on television news channels. He couldn't bear to see it again, though Chloe insisted it was clear from the tape he had had no choice. “More people would have died, Buck,” she said. “And one of them would have been you.”
It was true. He could come to no other conclusion. Why couldn't he feel a sense of satisfaction or even accomplishment from it? He was not a battle-minded man. And yet here he was on the front lines.
Buck took Chloe's hand and pulled her close. She lay her cheek on his chest, and he brushed the hair from her wounded face. Her eye, still swollen shut and morbidly discolored, seemed to be improving. He touched her forehead with his lips and whispered, “I love you with my whole heart.”
Buck glanced at Hattie. She had not moved for an hour.
And the hail came.
Buck and Chloe stood and watched out the window as the tiny balls of ice bounced in the yard. Tsion hurried downstairs. “Oh, my! Look at this!”
The sky grew black, and the hailstones got bigger. Only slightly smaller than golf balls now, they rattled against the roof, clanged off the downspouts, thundered on the Range Rover, and the power failed. A chirp of protest burst from Tsion, but Buck assured him, “The hail has just knocked the cord out, that's all. Easily fixed.”
But as they watched, the sky lit up. But it wasn't lightning. The hailstones, at least half of them, were in flames!
“Oh, dear ones!” Tsion said. “You know what this is, do you not? Let us pull Hattie's bed away from the window just in case! The angel of the first Trumpet Judgment is throwing hail and fire to the earth.”
Rayford and Mac had left their scuba equipment on the ground near the chopper. Now protected by the Plexiglas bubble of the tiny cockpit, Rayford felt as if he were inside a popcorn popper. As the hailstones grew, they pinged off the oxygen tanks and drilled the helicopter. Mac started the engine and set the blades turning, but he was going nowhere. He would not leave the scuba equipment, and helicopters and hailstorms did not mix.
“I know you don't want to hear this, Ray,” he shouted over the din, “but you need to leave that wreckage and your wife's body right where they lie. I don't like it or understand it any more than you do, but I believe God is going to get you through this. Don't shake your head. I know she was everything to you. But God left you here for a purpose. I need you. Your daughter and son-in-law need you. The rabbi you've told me so much about, he needs you too. All I'm saying is, don't make any decisions when your emotions are raw. We'll get through this together.”
Rayford was disgusted with himself, but everything Mac-the brand-new believer-said sounded like so many hollow platitudes. True or not, it wasn't what he wanted to hear. “Tell me the truth, Mac. Did you check her forehead for the sign?”
Mac pursed his lips and did not respond.
“You did, didn't you?” Rayford pressed.
“Yes, I did.”
“And it wasn't there, was it?”
“No, it was not.”
“What am I supposed to think of that?”
“How should I know, Ray? I wasn't a believer before the earthquake. I don't know that you had a mark on your forehead before that either.”
“I probably did!”
“Maybe you did, but didn't Dr. Ben-Judah write later about how believers were starting to notice the sign on each other? That came after the earthquake. If they had died in the quake, they wouldn't have had the mark either. And even if they had it before, how do we know it's still there when we die?”
“If Amanda wasn't a believer, she probably was working for Carpathia,” Rayford spat. “Mac, I don't think I could handle that.”
“Think of David,” Mac said. “He'll be looking to us for leadership and guidance, and I'm newer at this than he is.”
When plummeting tongues of fire joined the hailstones, Rayford just stared. Mac said, “Wow!” over and over. “This is like the ultimate fireworks!”
Huge hailstones plopped into the river and floated downstream. They accumulated on the bank and turned the sand white like snow. Snow in the desert. Flaming darts sizzled and hissed as they hit the water. They made the same sound when they settled atop the hailstones on shore, and they did not burn out right away.
The chopper lights illuminated an area of twenty feet in front of the craft. Mac suddenly undipped his belt and leaned forward. “What is that, Ray? It's raining, but it's red! Look at that! All over the snow!”
“It's blood,” Rayford said, a peace flooding his soul. It did not assuage his grief or take away his dread over the truth about Amanda. But this show, this shower of fire and ice and blood, reminded him yet again that God is faithful. He keeps his promises. While our ways are not his ways and we can never understand him this side of heaven, Rayford was assured again that he was on the side of the army that had already won this war.
Tsion hurried to the back of the house and watched the flames melt the hail and set the grass afire. It burned a few moments, and then more hail put the fire out. The entire yard was black. Balls of fire dropped into the trees that bordered the backyard. They burst into flames as one, their branches sending a giant orange mushroom into the air. The trees cooled as quickly as they had ignited.
“Here comes the blood,” Tsion said, and suddenly Hattie sat straight up. She stared out the window as blood poured from the skies. She struggled to kneel on the bed so she could see farther. The parched yard was wet with melted hail and now red with blood.
Lightning cracked and thunder rolled. Softball-sized hailstones drummed the roof, rolling and filling the yard. Tsion shouted, “Praise the Lord God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth! What you see before you is a picture of Isaiah 1:18: 'Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'”
“Did you see it, Hattie?” Chloe asked.
Hattie turned and Buck saw her tears. She nodded but looked woozy. Buck helped her lie back down, and she was soon asleep. As the clouds faded and the sun returned, the results of the light show became obvious. The bark on the trees had been blackened, the foliage all burned off. As the hail melted and blood seeped into the ground, the charred grass showed through.
“The Scriptures told us that one third of the trees and all of the green grass in the world would be burned,” Tsion said. “I cannot wait until we have power so we can see what Carpathia's newsmen make of this.”
Yet another clear movement of God's hand had moved Buck. He longed for Hattie to stay healthy so she could pursue the truth. Whether Bruce Barnes had been poisoned by Nicolae Carpathia or had lost his life in the first volley of bombs in World War III made little difference in the larger scheme of things. But if Hattie Durham had information about Amanda that could confirm or deny what Tsion had stumbled onto in Bruce's computer files, Buck wanted to hear it.
Mac left the chopper running, but Rayford was cold. With nothing green to scorch in that part of the world, the fire and blood had been overcome by the hail. The result was the chilliest night in the history of the Iraqi desert.
“Stay put,” Mac said. “I'll get the stuff.” Rayford reached for the door handle. “That's all right, I'll do my share.”
“No! Now I mean it. Just let me do this.” Rayford wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful. He stayed inside as Mac sloshed in the melting hail. He stored the scuba equipment behind the seats. When he reboarded he had Amanda's waterlogged laptop computer.
“What's the point, Mac? Those things aren't waterproof.”
“True,” Mac said. “Your screen is shot, your solar panels are ruined, your keyboard won't function, the motherboard is gone. You name it, that much water had to kill it. Except for the hard drive. It is encased and waterproof. Experts can run a diagnostic and copy any files you want.”
“I don't expect any surprises.”
“I'm sorry to be blunt, Rayford,” Mac said, “but you didn't expect to see her in the Tigris. If I were you, I'd look for evidence to prove Amanda was everything you thought she was.”
Rayford wasn't sure. “I'd have to use someone I know, like David Hassid or someone else I can trust.”
“That narrows it to David and me, yes.”
“If it's bad news, I couldn't let a stranger discover it before I do. Why don't you handle it, Mac? In the meantime, I don't even want to think about it. If I do, I'm going to break your confidence and go straight to Carpathia and demand he clear Amanda's name with anybody he ever talked to about her.”
“You can't do that, Ray.”
“I might not be able to help myself if I have exclusive access to that computer. Just do it for me and give me the results.”
“I'm not an expert, Ray. How about if I supervise David, or let him run me through it? We won't look at one file. We'll just find whatever is available.”
Nicolae Carpathia announced a postponement of travel due to “the strange natural phenomenon” and its effect on airport reconstruction. Over the next few weeks, as the expanded Chicago contingent of the Tribulation Force grew closer to their departure date for Israel, Buck was dumbfounded at the improvement in Chloe. Floyd Charles took her casts off, and within a few days, atrophied muscles began to come back. It appeared she might always have a limp, residual pain, and a slightly cockeyed face and frame. But to Buck, she had never looked better. All she talked about was going to Israel to see the incredible mass rally of the witnesses.
The first twenty-five thousand to arrive would meet with Tsion in Teddy Kollek Stadium. The rest would gather at sites all over the Holy Land, watching on closed-circuit television. Tsion told Buck he planned to invite Moishe and Eli to join him in the stadium.
Following God's shower of hail, fire, and blood, remaining skeptics were few. There was no longer any ambiguity about the war. The world was taking sides.
Rayford's head healed quickly, but he still had an aching heart. He spent his days mourning, praying, studying, following Tsion's teaching carefully on the Internet, and E-mailing Buck and Chloe every day.
He also kept his mind occupied with route plans, mentoring David Hassid, and discipling Mac. For the first few days, of course, their roles had been reversed as Mac helped Rayford through the worst period of grief. Rayford had to admit God gave him just enough strength for each day. No extra, none to invest for the future, but sufficient for each day.
Nearly a month from the night Rayford had discovered Amanda's body, David Hassid presented him with a high-tech disk with all of Amanda's computer files listed. “They're all encrypted and therefore inaccessible without decoding,” David told him.
Rayford was so quiet around Carpathia and Fortunato, even when pressed into flying them here and there, that he believed they had become bored with him. Perfect. Until God released him from this assignment, he would simply endure it.
He was astonished at the progress of rebuilding around the world. Carpathia had troops humming, opening roads, airstrips, cities, trade routes, everything. The balance of travel, commerce, and government had shifted to the Middle East, Iraq, New Babylon, the capital of the world.
People around the world begged to know God. Their requests flooded the Internet, and Tsion, Chloe, and Buck worked day and night corresponding with new converts and planning the huge Holy Land event.
Hattie did not improve. Dr. Charles looked into a secret medical facility but finally told Buck he would take care of her where she was while Buck and the others were in Israel. It would be risky for them both, and she might have to occasionally be alone longer than he was comfortable with, but it was the best he could come up with.
Buck and Chloe prayed for Hattie every day. Chloe confided in Buck, “The only thing that will keep me from going is if Hattie has not received Christ first. I can't leave her in that state.”
Buck had his own reasons for wishing she would revive. Her salvation was paramount, of course, but he needed to know things only she could tell him.
Through his own observation and the input of David Hassid, Rayford saw how enraged Carpathia was with Tsion Ben-Judah, the two witnesses, the upcoming conference, and especially the massive groundswell of interest in Christ.
Carpathia had always been motivated and disciplined, but now it was clear he was on a mission. His eyes were wild, his face taut. He rose early every day and worked late every night. Rayford hoped he would work himself into a frenzy. Your day is coming, Rayford thought, and I hope God lets me pull the trigger.
Two days before their scheduled departure for the Holy Land, the beeping of his computer awakened Buck. A message from Rayford said, “It's happening! Turn on the TV. This is going to be some ride!”
Buck tiptoed downstairs and flipped on the television, finding an all-news station. As soon as he saw what was going on, he woke up everyone in the house except Hattie. He told Chloe, Tsion, and Ken, “It's almost noon in New Babylon, and I've just heard from Rayford. Follow me.”
Newscasters told the story of what astronomers had discovered just two hours before—a brand-new comet on a collision course with Earth. Global Community scientists analyzed data transmitted from hastily launched probes that circled the object. They said meteor was the wrong term for the hurtling rock formation, which was the consistency of chalk or perhaps sandstone.
Pictures from the probes showed an irregularly shaped projectile, light in color. The anchorman reported, “Ladies and gentlemen, I urge you to put this in perspective. This object is about to enter Earth's atmosphere. Scientists have not determined its makeup, but if—as it appears—it is less dense than granite, the friction resulting from entry will make it burst into flames.
“Once subject to Earth's gravitational pull, it will accelerate at thirty-two feet per second squared. As you can see from these pictures, it is immense. But until you realize its size, you cannot fathom the potential destruction on the way. GC astronomers estimate it at no less than the mass of the entire Appalachian Mountain range. It has the potential to split the earth or to knock it from its orbit.
“The Global Community Aeronautics and Space Administration projects the collision at approximately 9:00 A.M. Central Standard Time. They anticipate the best possible scenario, that it will take place in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
“Tidal waves are expected to engulf coasts on both sides of the Atlantic for up to fifty miles inland. Coastal areas are being evacuated as we speak. Crews of oceangoing vessels are being plucked from their ships by helicopters, though it is unknown how many can be moved to safety in time. Experts agree the impact on marine life will be inestimable.
“His Excellency Potentate Nicolae Carpathia has issued a statement verifying that his personnel could not have known earlier about this phenomenon. While Potentate Carpathia says he is confident he has the fire-power to destroy the object, he has been advised that the unpredictability of fragments is too great a risk, especially considering that the falling mountain is on course to land in the ocean.”
The Tribulation Force went to their computers to spread the word that this was the second Trumpet Judgment foretold in Revelation 8:8-9. “Will we look like expert prognosticators when the results are in?” Tsion wrote. “Will it shock the powers that be to discover that, just as the Bible says, one-third of the fish will die and one-third of the ships at sea will sink, and tidal waves will wreak havoc on the entire world? Or will officials reinterpret the event to make it appear the Bible was wrong? Do not be fooled! Do not delay! Now is the accepted time. Now is the day of salvation. Come to Christ before it is too late. Things will only get worse. We were all left behind the first time. Do not be left wanting when you breathe your last.”
The Global Community military positioned camera-toting aircraft strategically to film the most spectacular splash in history. The more than thousand-mile-square mountain, finally determined to consist largely of sulfur, burst into flames upon entry to the atmosphere. It eclipsed the sun, blew clouds out of its path, and created hurricane-force winds between itself and the surface of the sea for the last hour it dropped from the heavens. When it finally resounded on the surface of the deep, geysers, water spouts, and typhoons miles high were displaced, rocketing from the ocean and downing several of the GC planes. Those able to film the result produced such incredible images that they would air around the clock on TV for weeks.
Damage inland was so extensive that nearly all modes of travel were interrupted. The Israel rally of the Jewish witnesses was postponed ten weeks.
The two witnesses at the Wailing Wall went on the offensive, threatening to continue the Holy Land drought they had maintained since the day of the signing of the covenant between the Antichrist and Israel. They promised rivers of blood in retaliation for any threat to God's sealed evangelists. Then, in a comical display of power, they called upon God to let it rain only on the Temple Mount for seven minutes. From a cloudless sky came a warm downpour that turned the dust to mud and brought Israelis running from their homes. They lifted hands and faces and stuck out their tongues. They laughed and sang and danced over what this miracle would mean to their crops. But seven minutes later it stopped and evaporated, and the mud turned to dust and blew away.
“Woe unto you, mockers of the one true God!” Eli and Moishe shouted. “Until the due time, when God allows us to be felled and later returns us to his side, you shall have no power over us or over those God has called to proclaim his name throughout the earth!”
Rayford had at first been warmed by the commiseration of Chloe and Buck and Tsion in his grief over Amanda. But as he extolled her virtues in E-mailed memories, their responses were tepid. Was it possible they had been exposed to Carpathia's innuendoes? Surely they knew and loved Amanda enough to believe she was innocent.
The day finally came when Rayford received from Buck a long, tentative message. It concluded, “Our patient has rallied enough to be able to share troubling secrets of the past that have kept said patient from taking a vital step with the Creator. This information is most alarming and revealing. Only face-to-face can we discuss it, and so we urge you to coordinate a personal meeting as soon as feasible.”
Rayford felt as low as he had in ages. What could that message mean other than that Hattie had shed light on the charges about Amanda? Unless Hattie could prove those charges bogus, Rayford was in no hurry to meet face-to-face.
Just days before the rescheduled departure of the Tribulation Force for Israel, the GCASA again detected a threat in the heavens. This object was similar in size to the previous burning mountain but had the consistency of rotting wood. Carpathia, eager to turn the attention from Christ and Tsion Ben-Judah to himself again, pledged to blast it from the skies.
With great fanfare, the press showed the launch of a colossal ground-to-air nuclear missile designed to vaporize the new threat. As the whole world watched, the flaming meteor the Bible called Wormwood split itself into billions of pieces before the missile arrived. The residue wafted down for hours and landed in one-third of the fountains, springs, and rivers of the earth, turning the water a bitter poison. Thousands would die from drinking it.
Carpathia once again announced his decision to delay the Israel conference. But Tsion Ben-Judah would not hear of it. He posted on the Internet bulletin board his response and urged as many of the 144,000 witnesses as possible to converge on Israel the following week.
“Mr. Carpathia,” he wrote, purposely not using any other titles, “we will be in Jerusalem as scheduled, with or without your approval, permission, or promised protection. The glory of the Lord will be our rear guard.”
The list of encrypted files from Amanda's hard drive evidenced extensive correspondence between her and Nicolae Carpathia. Much as Rayford dreaded it, his desire grew to decode those files. Tsion had told him of Donny's program that unveiled material from Bruce's files. If Rayford could get to Israel when the rest of the Tribulation Force was there, he might finally get to the bottom of the ugly mystery.
Wouldn't his own daughter and son-in-law put his mind at ease? Every day he felt worse, convinced that regardless of the truth or anything he could say to dissuade them, his own loved ones had been swayed. He had not come right out and asked their opinions. He didn't have to. If they were still standing with him—and with the memory of his wife—he would know.
Rayford believed the only way to exonerate Amanda was to decode her files, but he also knew the risk. He would have to face whatever they revealed. Did he want the truth, regardless? The more he prayed about that, the more convinced he became that he must not fear the truth.
What he learned would affect how he functioned for the rest of the Tribulation. If the woman who had shared his life had fooled him, whom could he trust? If he was that bad a judge of character, what good was he to the cause? Maddening doubts filled him, but he became obsessed with knowing. Either way, lover or liar, wife or witch, he had to know.
The morning before the start of the most talked-about mass meeting in the world, Rayford approached Carpathia in his office.
“Your Excellency,” he began, swallowing any vestige of pride, “I'm assuming you'll need Mac and me to get you to Israel tomorrow.”
“Talk to me about this, Captain Steele. They are meeting against my wishes, so I had planned not to sanction it with my presence.”
“But your promise of protection—” “Ah, that resonated with you, did it not?” “You know well where I stand.” “And you also know that I tell you where to fly, not vice versa. Do you not think that if I wanted to be in Israel tomorrow I would have told you before this?”
“So, those who wonder if you are afraid of the scholar who—” “Afraid!”
“—showed you up on the Internet and called your bluff before an international audience—”
“You are trying to bait me, Captain Steele,” Carpathia said, smiling.
“Frankly, I believe you know you will be upstaged in Israel by the two witnesses and by Dr. Ben-Judah.” “The two witnesses? If they do not stop their black magic, the drought, and the blood, they will answer to me.”
“They say you can't harm them until the due time.”
“I will decide the due time.”
“And yet Israel was protected from the earthquake and the meteors—”
“You believe the witnesses are responsible for that?”
“I believe God is.”
“Tell me, Captain Steele. Do you still believe that a man who has been known to raise the dead could actually be the Antichrist?”
Rayford hesitated, wishing Tsion was in the room. “The enemy has been known to imitate miracles,” he said. “Imagine the audience in Israel if you were to do something like that. Here are people of faith coming together for inspiration. If you are God, if you could be the Messiah, wouldn't they be thrilled to meet you?”
Carpathia stared at Rayford, seeming to study his eyes. Rayford believed God. He had faith that regardless of his power, regardless of his intentions, Nicolae would be impotent in the face of any of the 144,000 witnesses who carried the seal of almighty God on their foreheads.
“If you are suggesting,” Carpathia said carefully, “that it only makes sense that the Global Community Potentate bestow upon those guests a regal welcome second to none, you may have a point.”
Rayford had said nothing of the sort, but Carpathia heard what he wanted to hear. “Thank you,” Rayford said.
“Captain Steele, schedule that flight.”