The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (32 page)

He told her. “It wasn’t hard once I knew your flight time, and I said I was traveling with you to get next to you.”

“But why? Where are you going?”

“You don’t know where this plane’s going? San José, I hope.”

She laughed.

“But come on now, Chloe. Finish your story. I’ve never been an answer to prayer before.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“I think we’ve got time.”

She took his hand again. “Buck, this is too special. This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

“You said you were going to miss me, but I didn’t do it only for you. I’ve got business in Chicago.”

She giggled and let go again. “I wasn’t talking about you, Buck, though this is sweet. I was talking about God doing the nice thing for me.”

Buck couldn’t hide his embarrassment. “I knew that,” he said.

And she told him her story. “You might have noticed I was pretty upset last night. I was so moved by my dad’s story. I mean, I had heard it before. But all of a sudden he seemed so loving, so interested in people. Could you tell how important it was to him and how serious he was about it?”

“Who couldn’t?”

“If I didn’t know better, Buck, I would have thought he was trying to convince you personally rather than just answering your questions.”

“I’m not so sure he wasn’t.”

“Did it offend you?”

“Not at all, Chloe. To tell you the truth, he was getting to me.”

Chloe fell silent and shook her head. When she finally spoke she was nearly whispering, and Buck had to lean toward her to hear. He loved the sound of her voice. “Buck,” she said, “he was getting to me, too, and I don’t mean my dad.”

“Too bizarre,” he said. “I was up half the night thinking about this.”

“It won’t be long for either of us, will it?” she said. Buck didn’t respond, but he knew what she meant.

“When do I get to be the answer to prayer?” he prodded.

“Oh, right. I was sitting there at dinner with my dad pouring his guts out to you, and I suddenly realized why he wanted me to be there when he said the same things to Hattie. I gave him such a hard time at first that he backed off on me, and now that he had the knowledge and the real need to convince me, he was afraid to come right at me. He wanted me to get it indirectly. And I did. I didn’t hear how he started because Hattie and I were in the ladies’ room, but I had probably heard that before. When I got back, I was transfixed.

“It wasn’t that I was hearing anything new. It was new to me when I heard it from Bruce Barnes and saw that DVD, but my dad showed such urgency and confidence. Buck, there’s no other explanation for those two guys in Jerusalem, is there, except that they have to be the two witnesses talked about in the Bible?”

Buck nodded.

“So, Dad and God were getting to me, but I wasn’t ready yet. I was crying because I love him so much and because it’s true. It’s all true, Buck, do you know that?”

“I think I do, Chloe.”

“But still I couldn’t talk to my dad about it. I didn’t know what was in my way. I’ve always been so blasted independent. I knew he was frustrated with me, maybe disappointed, and all I could do was cry. I had to think, to try to pray, to sort it out. Hattie was no help. She doesn’t get it and maybe never will. All she cared about was trivial stuff, like trying to matchmake you and me.”

Buck smiled and tried to look insulted. “That’s trivial?”

“Well, compared to what we’re talking about right now, I’d have to say so.”

“Gotta give you that one,” Buck said.

She laughed. “So I knew something was wrong with Dad because I talked to you for only, what, three minutes or so before I went up?”

“Less than that, probably.”

“By the time I got to our suite, he was already in bed. So I told him good night, just to make sure he was still talking to me. He was. And then I tossed and turned, not ready to take the last step, crying about my dad’s worrying so much about me and loving me so much.”

“That’s while I was up, probably,” Buck said.

“But,” Chloe said, “this is so out of character for me. Even though I’m there, I mean, I’m right there. You follow me?”

Buck nodded. “I’ve been going through the same thing.”

“I’ve been convinced,” she said, “but I’m still fighting. I’m supposed to be an intellectual. I have critical friends to answer to. Who’s going to believe this? Who’s going to think I haven’t lost my mind?”

“Believe me, I understand,” Buck said, amazed at the similarities between their journeys.

“So, I was stuck,” she said. “I wasn’t getting anywhere. I tried to encourage my dad by not being so distant, but I could tell he saw me suffering, but I don’t think he had any idea how close I was. I got on this plane, desperate for some closure, pardon the psychobabble, and I started wondering if God answers your prayers before you’re . . . um, you know, before you’re actually a . . .”

“Born-again Christian,” Buck offered.

“Exactly. I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to say. Maybe somebody who knows better can tell me for sure, but I prayed and I think God answered. Tell me this, Buck, just with your cognitive-reasoning skills. If there is a God and if this is all true, wouldn’t he want us to know? I mean, God wouldn’t make it hard to learn and he wouldn’t, or I should say he
couldn’t
, ignore a desperate prayer, could he?”

“I don’t see how he could, no.”

“Well, that’s what I think. So I think it was a good test, a reasonable one, and that I wasn’t out of line. I’m convinced God answered.”

“And I was the answer.”

“And you were the answer.”

“Chloe, what exactly did you pray for?”

“Oh, well, the prayer itself wasn’t that big of a deal, until it was answered. I just told God I needed a little more. I felt bad that all the stuff I’d heard and all that I knew from my dad wasn’t enough. I just prayed really sincerely and said I would appreciate it if God could show me personally that he cared, that he knew what I was going through, and that he wanted me to know he was there.”

Buck felt a strange emotion—that if he tried to speak, his voice would be husky and he might be unable to finish a sentence. He pressed his hand over his mouth to compose himself. Chloe stared at him. “And you feel I was the answer to that prayer?” he said at last.

“No doubt in my mind. See, like I said, I wouldn’t even have conceived of praying that you would wind up next to me on the biggest day of my life. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever see you again. But it’s as if God knew better than I did that there was no one I would rather see today than you.”

Buck was touched, moved beyond expression. He had wanted to see her, too. Otherwise, he could have flown on Hattie’s flight or any one of a dozen that would have gotten him to Chicago that morning. Buck just looked at her. “So, what are you going to do now, Chloe? It seems to me that God has called your bluff. It wasn’t a bluff, exactly, but you asked and he delivered. Sounds like you’re obligated.”

“I have no choice,” she agreed. “Not that I want one. From what I’ve gathered from Bruce Barnes and the DVD and Dad, you don’t have to have somebody lead you through this, and you don’t have to be in a church or anything. Just like I prayed for a clearer sign, I can pray about this.”

“Your dad made that clear last night.”

“You want to join me?” she asked.

Buck hesitated. “Don’t take this personally, Chloe, but I’m not ready.”

“What more do you need? . . . Oh, I’m sorry, Buck. I’m doing just what my dad did the day he became a Christian. He could hardly help himself, and I was so awful to him. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

“I won’t need to be forced,” Buck said. “Like you, I feel like I’m right on the doorstep. But I’m pretty careful, and I want to talk to this Barnes guy today. I have to tell you, though, my remaining doubts can hardly stand up to what’s happening to you.”

“You know, Buck,” Chloe said, “I promise this will be the last thing I say about it, but I’m thinking the same way my dad did. I have this urge to tell you not to wait too long because you never know what might happen.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I’m going to have to take my chances this plane won’t go down because I still feel I need to talk to Barnes, but you have a point.”

Chloe turned and looked over her shoulder. “There are two vacant seats right there,” she said. She stopped a passing attendant. “Can I give you a message for my dad?”

“Sure. Is he captain or first officer?”

“Captain. Please just tell him his daughter has extremely good news for him.”

“Extremely good news,” the attendant repeated.

Rayford was manually flying the plane as a diversion when his senior flight attendant gave him the message. He had no idea what it meant, but it was so unlike Chloe to initiate communication lately, he was intrigued.

He asked his first officer to take over. Rayford unstrapped himself and made his way out, surprised to see Cameron Williams. He hoped Williams wasn’t the extent of Chloe’s good news. Pleasant as it was to think the man might already be making good on his promise to look up Bruce Barnes, Rayford also hoped that Chloe wasn’t about to announce some ill-advised whirlwind romance in the bud.

He shook hands with the writer and expressed his pleasant, but wary, surprise. Chloe reached for his neck with both hands and gently pulled him down to where she could whisper to him. “Daddy, could you and I sit back there for a couple of minutes so I can talk to you?”

Buck sensed disappointment in Captain Steele’s eyes at first. He looked forward to telling the pilot why he was glad to be flying to Chicago. Sitting next to Chloe had been only a bonus. He peeked back at Steele with his daughter, engaged in intense conversation and then praying together. Buck wondered if there was any airline regulation against that. He knew Rayford couldn’t fraternize for long.

In a few minutes Chloe stepped into the aisle, and Rayford stood and embraced her. They both appeared overcome with emotion. A middle-aged couple across the aisle leaned out and stared, brows raised. The captain noticed, straightened, and headed toward the cockpit. “My daughter,” he said awkwardly, pointing at Chloe who smiled through her tears. “She’s my daughter.”

The couple looked at each other and the woman spoke. “Right. And I’m the queen of England,” she said, and Buck laughed out loud.

Buck called New Hope Village Church to set up an early evening meeting with Bruce Barnes, then spent most of the afternoon at the Chicago bureau of
Global Weekly
. News of his becoming their boss had swept the place, and he was greeted with coolness by Lucinda Washington’s former assistant, a young woman in sensible shoes. She told him in no uncertain terms, “Plank did nothing about replacing Lucinda, so I assumed I would move into her slot.”

Her attitude and presumption alone made Buck say, “That’s unlikely, but you’ll be the first to know. I wouldn’t be moving offices just yet.”

The rest of the staff still grieved over Lucinda’s disappearance and seemed grateful for Buck’s visit. Steve Plank had hardly ever come to Chicago and had not been there since Lucinda had vanished.

Buck camped out in Lucinda’s old office, interviewing key people at twenty-minute intervals. He also told each about his writing assignment and asked their personal theories of what had happened. His final question to each was, “Where do you think Lucinda Washington is right now?” More than half said they didn’t want to be quoted but expressed variations of, “If there’s a heaven, that’s where she is.”

Near the end of the day, Buck was told that CNN was live at the U.N. with big news. He invited the staff into the office and they watched together. “In the most dramatic and far-reaching overhaul of an international organization anyone can remember,” came the report, “Romanian president Nicolae Carpathia was catapulted into reluctant leadership of the United Nations by a nearly unanimous vote. Carpathia, who insisted on sweeping changes in direction and jurisdiction of the United Nations, in what appeared an effort to gracefully decline the position, became secretary-general here just moments ago.

“As late as this morning his press secretary and spokesman, Steven Plank, former executive editor of the
Global Weekly
, had denied Carpathia’s interest in the job and outlined myriad demands the Romanian would insist upon before even considering the position. Plank said the request for Carpathia’s elevation came from outgoing Secretary-General Mwangati Ngumo of Botswana. We asked Ngumo why he was stepping down.”

Ngumo’s face filled the screen, eyes downcast, his expression carefully masked. “I have long been aware that divided loyalties between my country and the United Nations have made me less effective in each role. I had to choose, and I am first and foremost a Motswana. We have the opportunity now to become prosperous, due to the generosity of our friends in Israel. The time is right, and the new man is more than right. I will cooperate with him to the fullest.”

“Would you, sir, have stepped down had Mr. Carpathia declined the position?”

Ngumo hesitated. “Yes,” he said, “I would have. Perhaps not today, and not with as much confidence in the future of the United Nations, but yes, eventually.”

The CNN reporter continued, “In only a matter of hours, every request Carpathia had outlined in an early morning press conference was moved as official business, voted upon, and ratified by the body. Within a year the United Nations headquarters will move to New Babylon. The makeup of the Security Council will change to ten permanent members within the month, and a press conference is expected Monday morning in which Carpathia will introduce several of his personal choices for delegates to that body.

“There is no guarantee, of course, that even member nations will unanimously go along with the move to destroy ninety percent of their military strength and turn over the remaining ten percent to the U.N. But several ambassadors expressed their confidence ‘in equipping and arming an international peacekeeping body with a thoroughgoing pacifist and committed disarmament activist as its head.’ Carpathia himself was quoted as saying, ‘The U.N. will not need its military might if no one else has any, and I look forward to the day when even the U.N. disarms.’

“Also coming out of today’s meetings was the announcement of a seven-year pact between U.N. members and Israel, guaranteeing its borders and promising peace. In exchange, Israel will allow the U.N. to selectively franchise the use of the fertilizer formula, developed by Nobel prizewinner Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig, which makes desert sands tillable and has made Israel a top exporter.”

Buck stared as CNN broadcast Rosenzweig’s excitement and unequivocal endorsement of Carpathia. The news also carried a report that Carpathia had asked several international groups already in New York for upcoming meetings to get together this weekend to hammer out proposals, resolutions, and accords. “I urge them to move quickly toward anything that contributes to world peace and a sense of global unity.”

A reporter asked Carpathia if that included plans for one world religion and eventually one world government. His response: “I can think of little more encouraging than the religions of the world finally cooperating. Some of the worst examples of discord and infighting have been between groups whose overall mission is love among people. Every devotee of pure religion should welcome this potential. The day of hatred is past. Lovers of humankind are uniting.”

The CNN anchor continued, “Among other developments today, there are rumors of the organization of groups espousing one world government. Carpathia was asked if he aspired to a position of leadership in such an organization.”

Carpathia looked directly into the network pool camera and with moist eyes and thick voice said, “I am overwhelmed to have been asked to serve as secretary-general of the United Nations. I aspire to nothing else. While the idea of one world government resonates deep within me, I can say only that there are many more qualified candidates to lead such a venture. It would be my privilege to serve in any way I am asked, and while I do not see myself in the leadership role, I will commit the resources of the United Nations to such an effort, if asked.”

Smooth,
Buck thought, his mind reeling. As commentators and world leaders endorsed one world currency, one language, and even the largesse of Carpathia expressing his support for the rebuilding of the temple in Israel, the staff of
Global Weekly
’s Chicago bureau seemed in a mood to party. “This is the first time in years I’ve felt optimistic about society,” one reporter said.

Another added, “This has to be the first time I’ve smiled since the disappearances. We’re supposed to be objective and cynical, but how can you not like this? It’ll take years to effect all this stuff, but someday, somewhere down the line, we’re going to see world peace. No more weapons, no more wars, no more border disputes or bigotry based on language or religion. Whew! Who’d have believed it would come to this?”

Buck took a call from Steve Plank. “You been watching what’s going on?” Plank said.

“Who hasn’t?”

“Pretty exciting, isn’t it?”

“Mind-boggling.”

“Listen, Carpathia wants you here Monday morning.”

“What for?”

“He likes you, man. Don’t knock it. Before the press conference he’s going to have a meeting with his top people and the ten delegates to the permanent Security Council.”

“And he wants me there?”

“Yup. And you can guess who some of his top people are.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, one’s obvious.”

“Stonagal.”

“Of course.”

“And Todd-Cothran. I assume he’ll move in as new ambassador from the U.K.”

“Maybe not,” Steve said. “Another Brit is there. I don’t know his name, but he’s also with this international finance group Stonagal runs.”

“You think Carpathia told Stonagal to have someone else in the wings, in case Carpathia wants to squeeze Todd-Cothran out?”

“Could be, but nobody tells Stonagal anything.”

“Not even Carpathia?”

“Especially not Carpathia. He knows who made him. But he’s honest and sincere, Buck. Nicolae will not do anything illegal or underhanded or even too political. He’s pure, man. Pure as the driven snow. So, can you make it?”

“Guess I’d better. How many press will be there?”

“You ready for this? Only you.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m serious. He likes you, Buck.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. He didn’t ask for a thing, not even favorable coverage. He knows you have to be objective and fair. The media will get the whole scoop at the press conference afterward.”

“Obviously I can’t pass this up,” Buck said, aware his voice sounded flat.

“What’s the matter, Buck? This is history! This is the world the way we’ve always wanted it and hoped it would be.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m right. There’s something else Carpathia wants.”

“So there
is
a catch.”

“No, nothing hinges on this. If you can’t do it, you can’t do it. You’re still welcome Monday morning. But he wants to see that stewardess friend of yours again.”

“Steve, no one calls them stews anymore. They’re flight attendants.”

“Whatever. Bring her with you if you can.”

“Why doesn’t he ask her himself? What am I now, a pimp?”

“C’mon, Buck. It’s not like that. Lonely guy in a position like this? He can’t be out hustling up dates. You introduced them, remember? He trusts you.”

He must,
Buck thought,
if he’s inviting me to his big pre-press-conference meeting.
“I’ll ask her,” he said. “No promises.”

“Don’t let me down, buddy.”

Rayford Steele was as happy as he had been since his own decision to receive Christ. To see Chloe smiling, to see her hungry to read Irene’s Bible, to be able to pray with her and talk about everything together was more than he had dreamed of. “One thing we need to do,” he said, “is to get you your own Bible. You’re going to wear that one out.”

“I want to join that core group of yours,” she said. “I want to get all the stuff from Bruce firsthand. The only part that bothers me is that it sounds like things are going to get worse.”

Late in the afternoon they dropped in on Bruce, who confirmed Chloe’s view. “I’m thrilled to welcome you into the family,” he said, “but you’re right. God’s people are in for dark days. Everybody is. I’ve been thinking and praying about what we’re supposed to do as a church between now and the Glorious Appearing.”

Chloe wanted to know all about that, so Bruce showed her from the Bible why he believed Christ would appear in seven years, at the end of the Tribulation. “Most Christians will be martyred or die from war, famine, plagues, or earthquakes,” he said.

Chloe smiled. “This isn’t funny,” she said, “but maybe I should have thought of that before I signed on. You’re going to have trouble convincing people to join the cause with that in your sign-up brochure.”

Bruce grimaced. “Yes, but the alternative is worse. We all missed out the first time around. We could be in heaven right now if we’d listened to our loved ones. Dying a horrible death during this period is not my preference, but I’d sure rather do it this way than while I was still lost. Everyone else is in danger of death, too. The only difference is, we have one more way to die than they do.”

“As martyrs.”

“Right.”

Rayford sat listening, aware how his world had changed in such a short time. It had not been that long ago that he had been a respected pilot at the top of his profession, living a phony life, a shell of a man. Now here he was, talking secretly in the office of a local church with his daughter and a young pastor, trying to determine how they would survive seven years of tribulation following the Rapture of the church.

“We have our core group,” Bruce said, “and Chloe, you’re welcome to join us if you’re serious about total commitment.”

“What’s the option?” she said. “If what you’re saying is true, there’s no room for dabbling.”

“You’re right. But I’ve also been thinking about a smaller group within the core. I’m looking for people of unusual intelligence and courage. I don’t mean to disparage the sincerity of others in the church, especially those on the leadership team. But some of them are timid, some old, many infirm. I’ve been praying about sort of an inner circle of people who want to do more than just survive.”

“What are you getting at?” Rayford asked. “Going on the offensive?”

“Something like that. It’s one thing to hide in here, studying, figuring out what’s going on so we can keep from being deceived. It’s great to pray for the witnesses springing up out of Israel, and it’s nice to know there are other pockets of believers all over the world. But doesn’t part of you want to jump into the battle?”

Rayford was intrigued but not sure. Chloe was more eager. “A cause,” she said. “Something not just to die for but to live for.”

“Yes!”

“A group, a team, a force,” Chloe said.

“You’ve got it. A force.”

Chloe’s eyes were bright with interest. Rayford loved her youth and her eagerness to commit to a cause that to her was only hours old. “And what is it you call this period?” she asked.

“The Tribulation,” Bruce said.

“So your little group inside the group, a sort of Green Berets, would be your Tribulation force.”

“Tribulation Force,” Bruce said, looking at Rayford and rising to scribble it on his flip chart. “I like it. Make no mistake, it won’t be fun. It would be the most dangerous cause a person could ever join. We would study, prepare, and speak out. When it becomes obvious who the Antichrist is, the false prophet, the evil, counterfeit religion, we’ll have to oppose them, speak out against them. We would be targeted. Christians content to hide in basements with their Bibles might escape everything but earthquakes and wars, but we will be vulnerable to everything.