CHAPTER 17
Rayford stopped to check in on Zeke, whom he found busy on Chaim’s robe. Zeke said, “Got enough material. Thinking about makin’ him two.”
“You heard what Tsion said about clothes in the safe haven?”
Zeke nodded. “He might want variety though. And I didn’t hear Tsion say whether the clothes get dirty.”
Rayford shrugged. “I admired your dad, Zeke. You know that?”
Zeke nodded, still working.
“He was courageous, right to the end.”
“Didn’t surprise me,” Zeke said. “I told you he’d do that, didn’t I?”
“You had him pegged. I pray we’ll all show that kind of courage.”
Zeke looked up and shook his head, his eyes distant. “I wish he hadn’t got caught. Bad timing. He coulda done a lot more for the believers. Like I’m gonna do.”
“I admire you too, Zeke. We all do.”
Zeke nodded again.
“Don’t forget to mourn and grieve too, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I can’t help it. I miss him already.”
“I’m just saying, don’t pretend—you don’t have to look strong to us. We’ve all suffered terrible losses, and even if the Lord helps us through it, we don’t have to like it. The Bible doesn’t say we’re not to mourn. It just says we’re not to mourn the way people do who have no hope. Mourn with all your might, Zeke, because we do have hope. We know we’re going to see our loved ones again.”
Zeke suddenly stood and thrust out his hand. Rayford shook it. “I don’t s’pose I dare go try to get his body.”
Rayford shook his head. “The first thing they’re going to want is to know your connection. And you know the second thing.”
“Whether I want the mark.”
“We’re crippled with the loss of your dad, Zeke. I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you too.”
“I just hate to think what they’re gonna do with him. I try not to think about . . . you know . . . his head being . . . you know . . .”
“I know. But no matter what they do with your dad’s body, God knows. He has his eye on your father. His soul is in heaven now, and his body will eventually be there too, new and improved. If God can resurrect a cremated body—you know what that means?”
“Burned up, yeah.”
“Then he can resurrect anybody. Remember, he created us from the dust of the earth.”
“Thanks, Captain Steele. Bad as this is, there’s no other place I’d rather have been when I heard about it. I sure love all you guys.”
“And we love you, Zeke.”
Rayford walked out and shut the door, noticing Tsion just out of sight of the doorway, leaning against the wall, arms folded.
“Excuse me,” Dr. Ben-Judah said. “I didn’t intend to listen in. I didn’t know you were there. You must have had the same idea I did.”
“It’s all right.”
“I’m glad I heard that, Rayford. God has restored you to leadership. You did just what I know the Lord would have wanted you to do, and you did it well.”
“Thanks, Tsion. God’s been more patient with me than I deserve.”
“Isn’t that true with all of us?”
They walked back toward the commons. “I spoke with Chloe a few moments ago,” Tsion said. “I hope I wasn’t out of line.”
“You can’t be out of line, Doc. You know that. What was it about?”
“I was just checking to see how she was doing with the assignment you gave her. I have a vested interest, you know.”
“In the call for planes and pilots? I should say you do! So, save me a conversation. How’s it going?”
“She was amused and eager to tell me, actually. She put out the request for brave Commodity Co-op members willing to lend their planes and cars and fuel and time to the cause of Messiah in Jerusalem—and she told them it would be soon. She reports that the response has been overwhelming. The element of danger must make these men and women rally. She says they are more willing to throw caution to the wind for this scheme than they are to make the routine flights that keep the co-op running.”
Around the corner Kenny Bruce came chugging, chased by Leah. He appeared lost in the fantasy that he had to elude her, though he loved her hugs and tickles. “Grandpa!” he squealed, reaching for Rayford. But at the last instant he changed course, leaping into the rabbi’s arms. “Unca Zone!”
Leah laughed and grabbed for him. “That old man can’t save you!” she said, and he buried his head in Tsion’s chest.
“Old man?” Tsion said. “Miss Leah, you have wounded me!”
Tsion carried Kenny back to his mother, and Leah lingered. “Rayford, I feel useful here, helping Chloe—who’s incredible, by the way. That girl could run any size corporation. And I love helping with that precious child.”
“But—?”
“You know what’s coming.”
He nodded. “I’m still finalizing assignments,” he said. “But yours includes getting out of here awhile.”
“Oh, thank you, Ray. I don’t want to be selfish, and I know Chloe is as antsy as I am.”
“She has responsibilities here. More than you do.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to her.”
“But she takes her role seriously, and I think she’s resigned to it.”
“Well,” Leah said, “I can’t speak for her, but I would feel trapped.”
“Trapped by motherhood?”
Leah smiled. “Spoken like a man. As someone who has been there, let me tell you, at times you need a break. It doesn’t have to be long, and you can’t wait to get back. But, well—it’s not my business. But if you find a place for her outside, even a short assignment, I’ll be happy to spell her.”
“You can do what she does? Both the co-op and looking after the baby?”
“Sure. It’s only the men around here who are incapable of that.” Rayford shot her a double take. “I’m kidding, Ray. But tell me, am I going to get to go to Israel?”
“You want to be there?”
“I was stuck in Belgium last time. All the good stuff happens in Jerusalem.”
“The dangerous stuff.”
“And your point?”
He cocked his head. “Oh, yeah. You live for that stuff.”
“I live to serve, Ray. I’m not bragging. It’s what I do. It was, even before I became a believer. I want to be valuable to the cause. I’m not even suspicious. No one’s out trying to hunt me down. And with that wacky dental appliance in and if I let Zeke touch up the hair, I’m invisible.”
“It would take more than that to make you Middle Eastern.”
“Maybe this David character can make me GC then. Give me a reason to be over there.”
Rayford raised his eyebrows. “Maybe,” he said. “You never know.”
Buck and Albie stood with the culling squad in the female teens’ area. Buck found it hard to believe the conditions were the same as for the men. There were two women guards, but the rest were men. The girls were not as noisy and raucous as the boys, but the makeup of the group was similar. There were tough girls and apparent victims, but all were curious.
Buck scoured the group, and a tall brunette stared back at him. He was convinced they had seen each other’s mark at the same time. Her eyes grew wide, and he tried to communicate with his that she must not give him away. As Alex Athenas ran through his explanation, Buck casually moved close to Albie.
“I’d better not push my luck. Think you can get one out of here?”
“Maybe,” Albie said. “You’re not thinking of trying this in every building, are you?”
“I hate doing nothing.”
“Me too, but we’re going to get ourselves killed. And what about when there’s a bunch of ’em?”
“I can worry about them only one at a time.”
Albie sighed. “Where is she?” Buck pointed her out. “Watch and learn, buddy boy,” Albie said.
Albie rushed the cage, shouting. Alex fell silent and watched with everyone else as Albie prowled up and back before the wire mesh, eyes on his prey. “You! You from the North American States?”
The girl froze, her eyes darting at Buck, who nodded slightly, and back at Albie. “No,” she said, her voice a constricted squeak. “I’m—”
“Don’t lie to me, dirt ball! I’d know you anywhere.” Albie whirled in a rage that almost convinced Buck. “Alex, get somebody to open this cage.” He turned back, pointing at the girl. “Step to the door! Now! Hands behind your head.”
She advanced, stiff legged and shuddering, as the gate was unlocked.
Albie grabbed her and wrenched her out. “Cuffs,” he announced, and a guard tossed him a pair. “Key too,” he said. “I’ll bring ’em back.” He pushed her up against the cage and drew her hands down to hook her up. He slipped the key in his pocket and guided her out.
“Have fun,” a guard whispered as they passed.
Albie turned on him, grabbed his jacket, and shoved him against the wall. “Say again, soldier?”
“Sorry, sir. That was uncalled for.”
Albie gave him another shove and turned back to the girl, hustling her out. He returned a few minutes later and returned cuffs and key to the lender.
Buck was shocked when a girl with a pronounced Greek accent responded in the affirmative to Officer Athenas’s main question. The other girls whirled to see who it was, and Buck leaned in to see if he could detect a mark on her forehead. There was none.
“You’re refusing the loyalty mark of the Global Community?” Alex said.
“I’d certainly like to think about it,” she said. “It seems a drastic move, not something to enter into lightly.”
“You understand the consequences?”
“I’d just like to think it over.”
“Fair enough. Anyone else?” No one. “Young lady, because you are the only one in this facility, rather than being sent straight to the confirmation facilitator, you may mull this over while in line. Your male counterparts are almost finished with the procedure, and where you wind up in line will determine how much time you have to decide. When you get to the place in the queue where you are asked where you would like the mark affixed, that will be your final chance to elect not to have it at all.”
“And then?”
“You will be directed to the confirmation facili—”
“You know what that is, girl?” a teen called out.
“You’re dead!”
“Guillotine! Head chopped off.”
The girls quieted and Athenas looked at her. “Still want to think it over?”
“What, are they serious? You’re going to chop my head off for wanting to think this through?”
“Not for thinking, miss. For deciding against. If you decide for, you just choose where.”
“So I don’t really have a choice.”
“Where you been?” one of the girls said, and others joined in.
“Of course you have a choice,” Alex said. “I believe I’ve made it clear. Accept the mark or accept the alternative.”
“The mark or death, you’re saying?”
“Still want to think it over?”
She shook her head.
One of the girls said, “You sure made that harder than it needed to be.”
“Well, I didn’t know there was really no choice.”
Before proceeding to the adult women’s lockup, Buck and Albie followed the young women to the lines in the middle building. It had already become a model of efficiency. The prisoners moved along steadily. They were ready with their forehead or hand choices, and the disinfectant/anesthesia was applied quickly. The injectors sounded like electric staplers, and while some recipients flinched, no one seemed to feel pain.
Almost all the teen males took their marks on their foreheads, and one of the last, as he got back in line, raised both arms and shouted, “Long live Carpathia!” That soon became the custom, as it did with the young women choosing to receive the mark on their hands.
Buck stood staring, wishing he could preach. They had made their choices, yes, but did they really know what they were choosing? It wasn’t between loyalty and death; it was between heaven or hell, eternal life or eternal damnation.
His heart raced as the line of young women neared its end, and they were herded back. In the next building he expected to see Mrs. Miklos. How many of her friends would be there with her?
The women’s facility was surreal, in that there was no cage. The guards, again, were mostly men, and they apparently didn’t expect trouble. The women sat, mostly passive, chatting quietly, but their curious eyes also took in the Athenas squad.
Buck strolled around the outside of the group of women, looking for Laslos’s wife. Finally he noticed a group of about twenty women in a back corner, on their knees. In the middle of the group, praying, was Mrs. Miklos.
“Shut up and listen up!” a guard bellowed, and most of the women came to attention. “This here’s Officer Athenas, and he’s got announcements and instructions.”
Alex began, but the women in the back—who Buck assumed were Mrs. Miklos’s believing friends—paid no attention and continued praying. Some gazed toward heaven, and Buck saw the marks on their foreheads. Others peered up and around the crowd at Alex, and Buck noticed that some of them had no mark. Laslos’s wife had apparently been trying to recruit new believers.
Athenas grew impatient with those kneeling in the back. “Ladies, please!” he said, but they ignored him. He nodded to one of his female assistants, who handed her high-powered rifle and side arm to a compatriot, pulled out her baton, and moved directly into the tough-looking women in the front, heading toward the rear. A young, thick, healthy woman, she stared down the menacing ones, clearly knowing that her comrades had her back.
“As I was saying,” Alex took up again, but he stopped when the attention of the women diverted to where his guard was headed.
“Ladies!” the guard bellowed. “You will cease and desist, face the front, and give Officer Athenas your full attention.”
Many did just that. Some stood and moved away from the group. Others remained kneeling but looked up. Still others kept their heads bowed and eyes closed, lips moving in prayer. Mrs. Miklos, kneeling with her back to the guard, kept her hands folded, head bowed, eyes closed, praying softly.
The guard poked her with the baton, and she nearly lost her balance. When Mrs. Miklos turned to look up at her, the guard bent close and shouted, “Do you understand me, ma’am?”
Mrs. Miklos smiled shyly, reset herself, and returned to prayer. The guard, clearly incensed, put both hands around the end of the stick, set herself, pulled the baton back, and stepped into her swing.
Buck was barely able to hold his voice, and Albie had to grab and hold him back as the hardwood baton cracked loudly off the back of Mrs. Miklos’s head.
Blood splattered several of the women as Laslos’s wife pitched forward, arms and legs twitching. Several women screamed. Many of the kneelers, even those with marks on their foreheads, stood and rushed to join the main group. One woman dropped to her knees to check on her injured friend, and the guard caught her just below her nose with a second vicious swing.
Buck heard teeth shatter, and she cried out as the back of her head hit the floor and her hands came up to cover her face.
The guard marched back to the front, the sea of women parting for her. Miraculously, Mrs. Miklos drew herself up to her hands and knees and slowly, majestically returned to her kneeling position, hands folded before her.
With her back to the rest, the gaping wound, emitting great back issues of blood that ran down her hair and onto her sweater, was exposed to everyone. Most averted their eyes, but Buck stared at the white of her skull at the top of the laceration. Her skull had shattered and surely bone had been driven into her brain. And yet there she knelt, silently continuing to pray.
The other woman, rolling onto her stomach, also slowly drew herself up, spitting teeth, blood gushing down her chin, and returned to prayer. Buck felt a tingle at the base of his spine, imagining the blinding pain.
The guard retrieved her weapons with a look of satisfaction and exhilaration. The crowd behaved with a who-wants-to-be-next? attitude, and Alex said, “We’ll see who’s strong enough to stand in the enforcement facilitator line.”
Buck, his pulse racing and his breath coming in gasps, stood stock-still as Alex finally reached the pivotal question. “Just so we’ll know,” he said, “how many will be rejecting the mark of loyalty and choosing the alternative?”
Mrs. Miklos stood and turned to face him. Her face was drained of color, eyelids fluttering. Her chest heaved with the effort of merely breathing. Blood pooled behind her from the ugly wound. She shook like a victim of advanced Parkinson’s, and yet she raised both hands, a beatific smile softening her macabre face.
“You choose execution by guillotine rather than the mark of loyalty,” Alex clarified.
The woman next to Laslos’s wife, her face swelling, her nose red, upper teeth gone, stood and raised both hands, smiling a cadaverous grin.
“Two of you then?”
But there were more, and now the rest of the women stood just to see who was making the choice. From the original group of the kneeling devout stood a half dozen, smiling, hands lifted. “You all want to die tonight?” Alex shouted, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “I’m counting eight. You eight will—now nine—will go to the extreme right when you—all right, now ten—when you are led to the processing center. OK, you can lower your hands now. Two more. OK, twelve of you. No need to keep your hands up!”
A couple of women in front looked at each other and started toward the back, marks of the believer appearing on their foreheads as they lifted their hands.
“All right,” Alex said. “Those taking the mark stay left as we enter the center. Suicides stay to the right.” And as he said it, three more lined up behind the bleeding women.
Buck fought tears. He could give in to emotion and wind up a martyr this very night, and in the heat of the moment, that didn’t sound so bad. But he had a wife and a child and compatriots who counted on him. He stood blinking, panting, fighting to maintain control. These women were heroes of the faith. They would join the great blood-washed who literally made their bodies living sacrifices, soon to be martyred and appear under the very altar of God in heaven in snow-white robes of righteousness. He couldn’t help but envy them!
As the women were led out, Alex shouted over the din, “You can change your mind! If you have chosen this ridiculous option and wish you hadn’t, simply step out of one line and into the other!”
But as the courageous filed past Buck, he saw the mark on each forehead and knew there would be no one turning back—no, not one. He fell into step with the female guard leading the doomed to the guillotine line. This proved no end of fascination to the others, who stared as they themselves stood in the loyalty lines, deciding where they would bear the mark of Nicolae.
When the guard moved past the head of the line to talk to the two men who would work the death machine, Buck stepped close to Mrs. Miklos and tried to appear as if he were interrogating her. “Laslos wanted me to tell you he loves you with all of his heart and will see you in heaven.”
She turned toward him with a start, blood still oozing down her back. She stared at the uniform and then at Buck’s forehead. Then at his face. “I know you,” she said.
He nodded.
“I don’t believe you have met Mrs. Demeter,” she said.
Buck was startled. The pastor’s wife had taken the blow to the face. “I’d shake your hand,” she whispered through her ruined mouth. “But then you’d be in line with us.”
Mrs. Miklos bent close to Buck. “Tell Laslos thank you for leading me to Jesus. I see him. I see him. I see my Savior and can’t wait to be with him!”
With that her knees buckled and Buck caught her. The guard reappeared and grabbed her. “No you don’t, lady!” she said. “You chose this, and you’re going to take it standing up.” It was all Buck could do not to punch the woman in the face. She turned to him and said, “What are we going to do with all these bodies? We weren’t prepared for anything like this.”
Buck headed to the back, where the guards were lined along the wall. This was the first they would see of any executions, and it was clear they weren’t about to miss it. Albie joined him, clearly overcome.
“That was Pastor D’s wife with Mrs. Miklos.”
Albie shook his head. “They’re champions, Buck. I don’t know if I can watch this.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Maybe we should be here with them.”
“We shall start with enforcement,” Alex Athenas announced. “Any who wish to switch lines may do so at any time. Ladies, once you have been secured in position in the apparatus, no change of mind will be honored. Inform someone before that or suffer the consequences.”
Buck stood paralyzed as Mrs. Miklos was led to the ugly machine. “Has that been tested?” Athenas shouted. “I want no malfunctions.”
“Affirmative!” answered the assistant, who would trade roles with the executioner with each victim.
“Carry on!”
From thirty feet away Buck read the lips of the executioner. “Last chance, ma’am.”
Laslos’s wife knelt and the assistant positioned her.
“Turn her around!” someone yelled. “We want to see it happen!”
Albie turned on the man. “Shut up! This is not for your amusement!”
The room fell tomb silent. In the stillness Buck heard Mrs. Miklos’s delicate voice. “My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine.”
A sob attacked his throat. Seemingly all in one motion, the assistant fastened the clamp and stood quickly with both hands raised to indicate he was clear of the blade path while the other yanked the short cord. The heavy blade raced to the bottom of the shaft. Buck pushed past the others and out into the night air, disgusted at the cheer that met the sickening thud.
He was glad for the vomit that gushed from him, allowing him to sob openly. Tears cascaded as he thought of the cold workmanlike crews that would remove heads and bodies and make room for the next and the next and the next.
As he stood in the cool grass, convulsing now in dry heaves, he covered his ears in a vain attempt to muffle the thuds and cheers, thuds and cheers. Albie emerged and rested a hand on his back. His voice was thick as he bent and gently pulled Buck’s hands away from his ears.
“When I get to heaven,” he whispered, “after Jesus, those women are the first people I want to see.”