The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (279 page)

Two uniformed GC Peacekeepers lowered a ramp from the truck; then one jumped onto the trailer and the other reached for a dangling rope. One pulling, the other pushing, they brought into view a monstrous pink sow that, despite its enormous bulk, daintily stepped down the ramp and turned slowly to face Carpathia. The animal, which had clearly been drugged, reacted lethargically to the mayhem.

A black leather strap with a flat leather pad and rounded, covered stirrups was fastened around its middle. Carpathia approached and cupped the pig’s fleshy face in his hands, looking over his shoulder to the crowd, which was now laughing and whooping in frenzy. One of the Peacekeepers handed him what appeared to be a noose, which Carpathia draped around the sow’s neck.

Then, with one hand on the rope and the hem of his own garment—which he hiked up to his knee—and the other steadied by a Peacekeeper, Nicolae placed his left foot in a stirrup and swung his right over the pig’s back. He let go of the Peacekeeper’s hand and smoothed his robe back down over his legs, held the rope with both hands, and looked again to the crowd for a response. The pig had moved not an inch under Nicolae’s weight, and as he yanked on the rope, tightening the knot around its neck, the spindly legs felt for purchase on the pavement and slowly turned to move the other direction. Nicolae waved as the crowd exulted.

“I don’t get it!” a man in front of Buck said, his accent German. “What’s he doing?”

“Putting all previous religions in their places, Friedrich!” his wife said, her eyes glued to the scene. “Even Christianity.
Especially
Christianity.”

“But what’s with the pig?”

“Christianity has Jewish roots,” she said, still not looking at him. “What’s more offensive to a Jew than an animal he’s not allowed to eat?”

The man shrugged, and finally she turned to look at him. “It’s hardly subtle.”

“That’s what
I’m
thinking! You’d think he’d have more class.”

“Hey,” she said, “you come back from the dead, and you can define class any way you want.”

The spectacle was broadcast internationally on radio and television and via the Internet. David followed it on his computer as Albie helicoptered him toward Petra. Carpathia’s brazenness shouldn’t have surprised him, but with relatives in Israel and childhood memories of the place, the whole pageant gave him a headache. David’s scalp itched, but he dared not scratch it. He pressed his palm over the healing area, which reminded him of Hannah’s treating him. That, of course, reminded him of what he was doing when he had collapsed—searching for his missing fiancée in the aftermath of Carpathia’s resurrection—and he felt the familiar ache for Annie. He would see her again in less than three and a half years, but that made the second half of the Tribulation seem even longer. If he stayed in Petra, it would be that long before he saw Hannah again too.

David envied Buck Williams and his marriage. He couldn’t wait to meet Chloe, the brain behind the International Commodity Co-op. Besides creating an underground where believers would be able to buy and sell from each other when they were restricted from world markets, she had almost single-handedly brought together the personnel for Operation Eagle without having met them. In a cooler behind Albie was food enough to last David until the fleeing Israelis joined him. Maybe God would feed David with manna before the others arrived. He hoped bringing food was not evidence of faithlessness.

Chloe Williams had arranged for the shipment of the latest high-tech computer equipment from various parts of the world, and that too was in the cargo hold. David could only guess how long it would take him and Albie to unload. He studied an aerial sketch of the area and wondered where he would set up and where he would live. “This place sure doesn’t look like it could house all the believers in Israel.”

“It won’t,” Albie said. “We’re estimating a million people will need refuge. Petra will hold about a quarter of that.”

“What do you plan to do with the rest?”

“Expand the borders, that’s all. The co-op has tents for the others.”

“Will they be safe? Outside Petra, I mean?”

Albie shook his head. “There’s only so much we know, brother. This is a faith mission.”

At a little after three in the morning in Chicago, Tsion lay with his hands behind his head on the cot in his study. He fought sleep as he watched the broadcast on his computer monitor. Hearing voices in the commons area, he padded out to find Chloe, Kenny on her lap, watching television.

“Do you believe this?” he said.

“Dis!” Kenny said, and Chloe shushed him.

She pressed her lips together. “I wish I were there.”

“You should be pleased with what God has allowed you to accomplish, Chloe. Every report says things are going like clockwork.”

“I know. And I’ve learned what strangers can do when they have a bond.”

Tsion sat on the floor. “The vehicle advance should be underway by now.”

“It is,” she said. “And it’s one of the riskiest parts. We didn’t have time to put GC insignias on the vehicles.”

“God knows,” Tsion said.

“Gott!” Kenny said.

“That’s
God
in German, you know,” Tsion said.

“I doubt he’s bilingual,” Chloe said. “But apparently Buck is. Never studied another language and now he’s speaking Hebrew without even knowing it.”

It was clear to Buck that Carpathia had decided not to address the crowds until either the Garden Tomb or the Temple Mount. All along the Via Dolorosa he confused many by skipping traditional sites, and the people sang and chanted and cheered. Chaim seemed to move more and more slowly, and Buck worried about his health.

The drugged pig was even weaker, however, and the milling throngs found it hilarious somehow when her front legs buckled and she dropped to her knees, nearly pitching Carpathia on his head. They laughed and laughed as aides rushed to help Carpathia off the animal. He formed a gun with his thumb and forefinger and pretended to pop the sow where she rested. Then he dragged a finger across his own neck, as if remembering the actual plan for the porker.

Nicolae strode on while the military truck pulled into view and half a dozen Peacekeepers worked on getting the pig back on four feet and into the trailer. The potentate jogged from the central bus station area up to the traditional site of Calvary, and it was all Buck could do to watch. He was grateful there was no mock crucifixion, but still it turned his stomach to see Carpathia stand at the edge of the Mount and again spread his arms as if embracing the world.

Suddenly Fortunato stepped beside his boss and tried to mimic his pose. He could hold it only so long before having to scratch his backside or his ankle. Some in the crowd seemed to develop sympathetic itches. “Behold the lamb who takes away the sins of the world!” Fortunato bellowed.

Buck gritted his teeth and looked away, noticing that Chaim’s breath now came in short gasps.

The sky blackened, and people pulled their collars up and looked around for shelter. “You need not move if you are loyal to your risen ruler!” Fortunato said. “I have been imbued with power from on high to call down fire on the enemies of the king of this world. Let the loyalists declare themselves!”

Buck froze. While thousands jumped and screamed and waved, he stood stock-still, fearing that just about anyone would be able to tell he opposed Carpathia. Chaim crossed his arms and stared directly up at Fortunato, as if daring the man to strike him dead.

“Today you shall have opportunity to worship the image of your god!” Fortunato shouted, but he could be seen only when lightning flashed. Buck saw rapturous looks on the faces of the crowd. “But now you have opportunity to praise him in person! All glory to the lover of your souls!”

Thousands knelt and raised their arms to Nicolae, who remained with his hands outstretched, drinking in the worship.

“How many of you will receive the mark of loyalty even this day at the Temple Mount?” Fortunato implored, now scratching in three places, including his stomach.

Buck stared at the strobelike image of Carpathia’s pitiful sycophant, wondering if he would be revealed and struck dead by the man whose power came from the pit of hell.

Thousands rose from their knees to wave, to assure the leader of Carpathianism that they would be there, taking the mark in the shadow of the image. That at least made Buck and Chaim less conspicuous.

“My lord, the very god of this world, has granted me the power to know your hearts!” Fortunato said. The people jumped and waved all the more.

“Not true,” Chaim whispered. Buck leaned close. “Carpathia—Antichrist—Satan is not omniscient. He cannot tell his False Prophet what he himself cannot know.”

Buck narrowed his eyes at Chaim. So this was it? This was the opposition? This was Moses standing against Pharaoh? Buck gestured as if Chaim should shout it out, make it clear. But Chaim looked away.

“I know if your heart is deceitful!” Fortunato said between claps of thunder, rubbing his body in the flashing light. “You shall not be able to stand against the all-seeing eye of your god or his servant!”

The hymn to Nicolae spontaneously erupted again, but Buck did not have the heart to sing even his own lyrics.

Suddenly the crowd fell deathly still, and the thunder diminished to low rolls that seemed to come from far away. Fortunato stood surveying the massive throng, still scratching, but his eyes piercing. Carpathia had somehow maintained his pose for several minutes. Heads and eyes turned toward a high, screeching voice from the base of Golgotha. The crowd evaporated from around a woman who stood pointing at Carpathia and Fortunato.

“Liars!” she railed. “Blasphemers! Antichrist! False Prophet! Woe unto you who would take the place of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! You shall not prevail against the God of heaven!”

Buck was stricken. It was Hattie! Chaim dropped to his knees, clasped his hands before his face, and prayed, “God, spare her!”

“I have spoken!” Fortunato shouted.

“Yours is the empty, vain tongue of the damned!” Hattie called out. She lifted her pointing finger from the two on the hill and raised it above her head. “As he is my witness, there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus!”

Fortunato pointed at her, and a ball of fire roared from the black sky, illuminating the whole area. Hattie burst into flames. The masses fell away, screaming in terror as she stood burning, mighty tongues of fire licking at her clothes, her hair, enveloping her body. As she seemed to melt in the consuming blaze, the clouds rolled back, the lightning and thunder ceased, and the sun reappeared.

A soft breeze made Hattie topple like a statue. People gaped as she was quickly reduced to ash, her silhouette branded onto the ground. As the fire died and the smoke wafted, Hattie’s remains skittered about with the wind.

Fortunato drew the attention back to himself. “Marvel not that I say unto you, all power has been given to me in heaven and on the earth!” Carpathia carefully made his way down the Place of the Skull, and the silent crowds moved to follow. As people passed the smoldering ashes, some spit, and others kicked at the powdery stuff.