The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (88 page)

The Range Rover was lodged between the trunk and lower branches of a large tree and the concrete abutment. “Turn those lights off, hon!” Buck called out. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves now.”

The wheels of the vehicle pressed almost flat against the wall, and Buck was amazed that the tree could sustain the weight. Buck had to climb into the tree to look down through the driver’s-side window. “Can you reach the ignition?” he asked.

“Yes, I had to turn the car off because the wheels were spinning against the wall.”

“Just turn the key halfway and lower the window so I can help you.”

Chloe seemed to be dangling from the seat belt. “I’m not sure I can reach the window button on that side.”

“Can you unlatch your seat belt without hurting yourself?”

“I’ll try, Buck, but I hurt all over. I’m not sure what’s broken and what isn’t.”

“Try to brace yourself somehow and get loose of that thing. Then you can stand on the passenger’s-side window and lower this one.” But Chloe was so hopelessly entangled in the strap that it was all she could do to swing her body around and turn the ignition switch halfway. She pulled herself up with her right hand to reach the window button. When the window was open, Buck reached down with both hands to try to support her. “I was so worried about you,” he said.

“I was worried about me too,” Chloe said. “I think I took all the damage to my left side. I think my ankle’s broken, my wrist is sprained, and I feel pain in my left knee and shoulder.”

“Makes sense, from the looks of things,” Buck said. “Does it hurt if I hold you this way so you can put your good foot down on the passenger’s-side window?”

Buck lay across the side of the nearly upended Range Rover and reached way down in to put one forearm under Chloe’s right arm and grab her waistband at the back with the other. He lifted as she pushed the seat belt button. She was petite, but with no foundation or way to brace himself it was all Buck could do to keep from dropping her. She moved her feet out from under the dashboard and stood gingerly. Her feet were on the passenger’s-side door, and her head now was near the steering wheel.

“You’re not bleeding anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I hope you’re not bleeding internally.”

“Buck, I’m sure I’d be long gone by now if I were bleeding internally.”

“So you’re basically all right if I can get you out of there?”

“I really want out of here in a bad way, Buck. Can we get that door open, and can you help me climb?”

“I just have one question for you first. Is this how our married life is going to be? I’m going to buy you expensive cars, and you’re going to ruin them the first day?”

“Normally that would be funny—”

“Sorry.”

Buck directed Chloe to use her good foot as a base and her good arm to push as he pulled open the door. The bottom of the door scraped on the abutment, and Buck was struck with how relatively little other damage there was to the vehicle, from what he could see in the dim light. “There should be a flashlight in the glove box,” he said. Chloe handed it up to him. He looked all around the vehicle. The tires were still good. There was some damage to the front grille, but nothing substantial. He turned off the flashlight and slid it into his pocket. With much groaning and whimpering, Chloe came climbing out of the car, with Buck’s help.

As they both sat on the upturned driver’s side, Buck felt the heavy machine moving in its precarious position.

“We have to get you down from here,” he said.

“Let me see that flashlight for a second,” Chloe said. She shined it above her. “It would be easier to go two feet up to the top of the abutment,” she said.

“You’re right,” he said. “Can you make it?”

“I think I can,” she said. “I’m the little engine who could.”

“Tell me about it.”

Chloe hopped to where she could reach the top of the wall with her good hand, and she asked Buck to push until she had most of her weight atop the wall. When she made the last thrust with her good leg, the Range Rover shifted just enough to loosen itself from the wickedly bent tree branches. The tree and the Range Rover shuddered and began to move. “Buck! Get out of there! You’re going to be crushed!”

Buck was spread-eagled on the side of the Range Rover that had been facing up. Now it was shifting toward the abutment, the tires scraping and leaving huge marks on the concrete. The more Buck tried to move, the faster the vehicle shifted, and he realized he had to stay clear of that wall to survive. He grabbed the luggage rack as it moved toward him and pulled himself to the actual top of the Range Rover. Branches snapped free from under the vehicle and smacked him in the head, scraping across his ear. The more the car moved, the more it seemed to want to move, and to Buck that was good news—provided he could keep from falling. First the car moved, then the tree moved, then both seemed to readjust themselves at once. Buck guessed that the Range Rover, once free of the pressure from the branches, had about three feet to drop to the ground. He only hoped it would land flat. It didn’t.

The heavy vehicle, left tires pressed against the concrete and several deeply bowed branches pushing it from the right side, began slipping to the right. Buck buried his head in his hands to avoid the springing out of those branches as the Range Rover fell clear of them. They nearly knocked him into the wall again. Once the Range Rover was free of the pressure of the branches, it lurched down onto its right side tires and nearly toppled. Had it rolled that way, it would have crushed him into the tree. But as soon as those tires hit the ground, the whole thing bounced and lurched, and the left tires landed just free of the concrete. The momentum made the left side of the vehicle smash into the concrete, and finally it came to rest. Less than an inch separated the vehicle from the wall now, but there the thing sat on uneven ground. Damaged branches hung above it. Buck used the flashlight to illuminate the violated car. Except for the damage to the front grille and the scrapes on both sides, one from concrete and one from tree branches, the car looked little the worse for wear.

Buck had no idea how to reset an airbag, so he decided to cut it off and worry about that later if he could get the Range Rover to run. His side ached, and he was certain he had cracked a rib when the Rover had finally hit bottom. He gingerly climbed down and stood under the tree, the branches now blocking his view of Chloe.

“Buck? Are you all right?”

“Stay right where you are, Chloe. I’m gonna try something.”

Buck climbed in the passenger side, strapped himself behind the wheel, and started the engine. It sounded perfect. He carefully watched the gauges to make sure nothing was empty, dry, or overheated. The Rover was in automatic and four-wheel drive. When he tried to go forward it seemed he was in a rut. He quickly switched to stick shift and all-wheel drive, gunned the engine, and popped the clutch. Within seconds he was free of the tree and out onto the sand. He took a sharp right and moved back up next to the guardrail that separated the sand from Lake Shore Drive. He drove about a quarter of a mile until he found a spot he could slip through the guardrail and turn around. He headed back up toward the overpass where Chloe stood, favoring one foot and holding her left wrist in her other hand. To Buck she had never looked better.

He pulled up next to her and ran around to help her into the car. He fastened her seat belt and was on the phone before he got back into the car. “Loretta? Chloe is safe. She’s banged up a little, and I’d like to get her checked out as soon as possible. If you could call around and find any doctor in the church who has not been pressed into service, I’d sure appreciate it.”

Buck tried to drive carefully so as not to exacerbate Chloe’s pain. However, he knew the shortest way home. When he got to the huge barrier at Michigan Avenue on the LSD, he swung left and went up over the embankment he had previously walked. He saw Verna’s now deceased automobile and ignored the waves and warnings of the cops he had talked to not so long ago. He sped up Lake Shore Drive, went around the barriers at Sheridan, followed Chloe’s directions to Dempster, and was soon back into the northwest suburbs.

Loretta and Verna were watching from the window as he pulled into the drive. Only then did he smack himself in the head and remember. He jumped out of the car and raced around to the back. Fumbling with the keys, he opened the back latch and found, strewn all over, Bruce’s pages. The computer was there too, along with the phones Chloe had bought. “Chloe,” he said, and she turned gingerly. “As soon as we get you inside, I’d better get back to Carpathia.”

Rayford was back in the cockpit. As the night wore on, the cabin grew more and more quiet. The conversation deteriorated into small talk. The dignitaries were well fed by the crew, and Rayford got the impression they were settling in for the long haul.

Rayford awakened with a start and realized his finger had slipped off the intercom button. He pressed it again and still heard nothing. He had heard more than he wanted to hear already anyway. He decided to stretch his legs.

As he walked back through the main cabin to watch one of the televisions in the back of the plane, everyone except Carpathia ignored him. Some dozed and some were being attended to by the flight crew, who were clearing trays and finding blankets and pillows.

Carpathia nodded and smiled and waved to Rayford.

How can he do that?
Rayford wondered.
Bruce said the Antichrist would not be indwelt by Satan himself until halfway into the Tribulation, but surely this man is the embodiment of evil.

Rayford could not let on that he knew the truth, despite the fact that Carpathia was well aware of his Christian beliefs. Rayford merely nodded and walked on. On television he saw live reports from around the world. Scripture had come to life. This was the Red Horse of the Apocalypse. Next would come more death by famine and plagues until a quarter of the population of the earth that remained after the Rapture was wiped out. His universal cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Few people not on that plane knew his number.
Thank God for technology,
he thought. He didn’t want anyone to hear him. He slipped deeper into the back of the plane and stood near a window. The night was as black as Carpathia’s soul.

“This is Rayford Steele,” he said.

“Daddy?”

“Chloe! Thank God! Chloe, are you all right?”

“I had a little car accident, Dad. I just wanted you to know that you saved my life again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got that message you left at The Drake,” she said. “If I had taken the time to go to our room, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

“And Buck’s OK?”

“He’s fine. He’s late returning a call to you-know-who, so he’s trying to do that right now.”

“Let me excuse myself, then,” Rayford said. “I’ll get back to you.”

Rayford strode back to the cockpit, trying not to appear in a hurry. As he passed Fortunato, Leon was handing a phone to Carpathia. “Williams from Chicago,” he said. “It’s about time.”

Carpathia made a face as if he felt Leon was overreacting. As Rayford reached the cockpit, he heard Carpathia exalt, “Cameron, my friend! I have been worried about you.”

Rayford quickly settled in and set his earphones. McCullum looked at him expectantly, but Rayford ignored him and closed his eyes, pressing the secret button.

“I am curious about coverage,” Carpathia was saying. “What is happening there in Chicago? Yes—yes—devastation, I understand—yes. Yes, a tragedy—”

Sickening,
Rayford thought.

“Cameron,” Carpathia said, “would it be possible for you to get to New Babylon within the next few days? Ah, I see—Israel? Yes, I see the wisdom of that. The so-called holy lands were spared again, were they not? I would like pooled coverage of high-level meetings in Baghdad and New Babylon. I would like to have your pen on it, but Steve Plank, your old friend, can run the point. You and he can work together to see that the appropriate coverage is carried in all our print media. . . .”

Rayford would be eager to talk to Buck. He admired his son-in-law’s moxie and ability to set his own agenda and even gracefully decline suggested directives from Carpathia. Rayford wondered how long Carpathia would stand for that. For now, he apparently respected Buck enough and was, Rayford hoped, still unaware of Buck’s true loyalties.