CHAPTER 18
Chaim took to pacing around in the Strong Building, repeating lines over and over. He usually carried a Bible, Rayford noticed, but sometimes a commentary or his own notes.
He didn’t sound eloquent or forceful or confident to Rayford. It was as if all he was trying to accomplish was getting the basics down and having some idea what he was talking about. He also looked miserable, and Rayford wanted to counsel him again on where he stood with God, but he didn’t feel qualified to make Chaim feel better about himself. Chaim apparently didn’t see Tsion as a personal mentor but only as a teacher and tireless motivator.
It struck Rayford that they all had had to endure the same doubts and fears when first they became believers. They had missed the truth, then feared they had come to God only as a last-ditch effort to avoid hell. Was it valid? The Bible said they were new creatures, that old things had passed away and all had become new. Rayford had worked hard to accept for himself the truth that God now saw him, in essence, through his sinless Son, the Christ.
But it had been almost impossible. He was new inside, yes. From a spiritual standpoint he knew it was true. But in many ways he struggled with his same old self. And while God’s truth about him should have carried more weight than his finite emotions, they were loudly at the forefront of his conscience every day. Who was he to tell Chaim Rosenzweig to just have faith and trust that God knew him and understood him better than Chaim himself ever could?
But if there was someone who seemed healthier more quickly than most, it was Hattie. The irony of that was not lost on Rayford. Fewer than twenty-four hours before she became a believer, she was suicidal. Months before, she had admitted to any Trib Force member who had the endurance to debate her that she understood and believed the whole truth about the salvation gospel of Christ. She simply had decided, on her own, to willfully reject it because, even if God didn’t seem to care that she didn’t deserve it, she did care. She was saying, in effect, that God could offer her the forgiveness of her sins without qualification, but she didn’t have to accept it.
But once she finally received the gift, her mere persistence was wearing. In many ways she was the same forthright woman she had been before, nearly as obnoxious as a new believer as she had been as a holdout. But of course, everyone was happy she was finally on the team.
Chaim, if Rayford could judge by facial expressions, was at least bemused by her. He was the next newest believer, so perhaps he identified with her. Yet Chaim was not responding as she was at all. Was it healthy envy that made him seem intrigued with her patter? Did he wonder why he hadn’t been bestowed with such abandonment with his commitment to the truth?
Rayford didn’t want to get ahead of himself, didn’t want to take too literally Tsion’s compliments about his return to effective leadership. But sometimes the surprise move, the one against the groove, was effective. Should he—dare he—conspire with Hattie to get her to see if she could jostle Dr. Rosenzweig off of square one? Tsion had become convinced that Chaim was God’s man for this time, and Rayford had learned to trust the rabbi’s intuition. But Chaim was going to have to progress a long way in a short time if he was to become the vessel Tsion envisioned.
Hattie had fed and was changing Kenny when Rayford approached her. What a bonus for Kenny that he had so many parent figures! The men doted on him, and even Zeke, though slightly intimidated, was extremely gentle and loving toward him. The women seemed intuitively to know when to spell each other, mothering him, but of course, most of the responsibility fell to Chloe.
“Have a minute?” Rayford asked Hattie as she lay the freshly powdered and dressed boy over her shoulder and sat rocking him.
“If this guy is drowsy, I’ve got all the time in the world, which—according to our favorite rabbi—is slightly less than three and a half years.”
Hattie isn’t as funny as she sees herself, Rayford thought, but there is something to be said for consistency.
“Could I get you to do me a favor?” Rayford said.
“Anything.”
“Don’t be too quick to say that, Hattie.”
“I mean it. Anything. If it helps you, I’ll do it.”
“Well, if you succeed, it helps the cause.”
“Say no more. I’m there.”
“It has to do with Chaim.”
“Isn’t he the best?”
“He’s great, Hattie. But he needs something Tsion and I don’t seem to be able to give him.”
“Rayford! He’s twice my age!”
So as not to draw suspicion, Buck suggested he and Albie get a head start on the next group by heading directly to the building immediately east of the processing center. This housed the lesser criminals, according to the organizing officer. Yet he had also said that the religious dissidents were in with the worst felons in the easternmost facility.
The two approached the guards at Building 4. “Ready for us?” one said with a Cockney lilt.
“Soon,” Buck said. “You’re next.”
“Heard whooping and hollering. Somebody choose the blade?”
Buck nodded but tried to make it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.
“More’n one?” the man added.
Buck nodded again. “Wasn’t pretty.”
“Yeah? Wish I’d seen it. Never saw somebody buy it before. You watched, eh?”
“Told you it wasn’t pretty. How would I know otherwise?”
“Sor-ry! I’m just askin’. How many you see then?”
“Just the one.”
“But there were more? How about you, Commander? You stay for the whole show?”
“Leave it alone, Corporal,” Albie snapped. “Several women chose it and showed more bravery than any man I ever saw.”
“That right, is it? But they wasn’t loyal to the potentate now then, was they?”
“They stood by their convictions,” Albie said.
“Convictions and sentences, sounds like to me, mate.”
“Would you choose to die if you felt that deeply?”
“I do feel that deeply, gents. Only I’m on the other side of it now, ain’t I? I choose what makes sense. Man rises from the dead—he’s got my vote.”
The armed guards led the somber survivors back to the women’s building while Athenas’s crew caught up to Buck and Albie. Buck noticed that Alex’s people seemed as subdued as the women prisoners. But their guards seemed energized.
“Let’s get this done,” Athenas said, leading the way in.
These were clearly white-collar criminals or smalltimers. No bravado, no threats, little noise at all. They listened, no one opted for the guillotine, and they filed out quietly to be processed. Buck was repulsed at the smell of blood that hung in the center. Word quietly spread throughout the men that several women had been beheaded in that very room, and the men grew even quieter. The workers assigned to the guillotine seemed relieved to have a break.
Buck watched the process, despairing at the masses who ignorantly sealed their fate. The workers had grown smooth with experience, and the operation went faster and faster. Line up, decide, swab, sit, inject, back in line, file out. Ironically, real life bloomed at the point of bloody death. Men receiving what looked like an innocuous mark they thought kept them alive sealed their real death sentences. From death, life. From life, death.
Buck was eager to see Pastor Demeter again, but why did it have to be here, why now? He dreaded the confrontation with the worst of the worst criminals in Building 5, knowing that many believing men would choose the right but ugly fate.
His phone vibrated. The text said, “Top priority. Rendezvous at Kozani no earlier than 0100 hours with GC penal officer reassigned from Buffer to USNA. Urgent. Her papers will specify destination. Early twenties, dark hair, Ming Toy. Sealed.”
“We’ll have company tonight,” Buck told Albie. “It will be refreshing to have a sister aboard who won’t remind me of this place every time I look at her.”
“I understand,” Albie said. “I could have lived a lifetime without having seen this and not felt I missed a thing.”
It was late afternoon at the safe house, and everyone was busy except Rayford. Zeke was sewing. Tsion writing. Chloe working on the computer. Leah copying. Chaim cramming. Kenny sleeping. And Hattie, with a wink to Rayford, approaching Chaim.
The old man looked up at her from a couch, seemingly intrigued. Rayford sat nearby, ostensibly buried in a book. “Ready for an interruption?” she said. “Because I can’t be dissuaded.” She sat on the floor near his feet.
“As I don’t appear to have a choice, Miss Durham, I could use a diversion. Something on your mind?”
“You’re new at this too,” she said, “but I’ve noticed you’re not all over the place talking about it.”
“I’m on assignment. Heavy study load. You remember from college?”
“Didn’t finish. Wanted to see the world. But, hey, you won’t let the studying get in the way of the thrill, will you? This has to be more than a class or that would take the fun out of it.”
“Fun I don’t associate with this. I came to the faith, you and I both did, at the worst possible time in history to enjoy it. It’s about survival now. Joy comes later. Or if we had come to the faith before the Rapture, I could see where I might have enjoyed it more.”
She scowled. “I don’t mean fun fun, like ha-ha fun. But we can let it reach us, can’t we? Inside? Get to us?”
He let his head bob from side to side. “I suppose.”
“Do you? Your eyes and your body language tell me you’re still not with the picture.”
“Oh, make no mistake. I’m in. I believe. I have the faith.”
“But you don’t have the joy.”
“I told you about the joy.”
“I can’t debate a brain like you, but I’m not giving up on this. I don’t care if you are ten times more educated—I want you to understand this.”
“I’ll try,” he said. “What do you want me to agree with?”
“Just that we have so much to be thankful for.”
“Oh, I agree with that.”
“But it has to thrill you!”
“In its own way, it does. Or I should say, in my own way.”
Hattie slumped and sighed. “This is beyond me. I can’t convince you. But I’m so thrilled that you are my brother, and I am on fire about what God is calling you to do.”
“Now see, Miss Durham, that is where I suppose we differ or disagree. I have come to see that Tsion is right, that I am in a unique position to be involved in something strategic. I have resigned myself to the fact that it is inevitable and that I must do it. But I do not warm to it, long for it, look forward to it.”
“I do!”
“Listen to me now, Miss Durham.”
“Sorry.”
“I accept this mantle with great gravity and heaviness of heart. I am working not to be a coward or even reluctant or resistant. This is not something one should eagerly embrace as some sort of honor or achievement. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “You’re right; I’m sure you are. But does it also humble you that God would choose you for something like this?”
“Oh, I’m humbled all right. But there are times when I can identify with the Lord Messiah himself when he prayed and asked that if possible, his Father would let this cup pass from him.”
Hattie nodded. “But he also added, ‘Not my will, but yours be done.’”
“He did indeed,” Chaim said. “Pray for me that I will approach that same level of brokenness and willingness.”
“Well,” she said, standing, “I just want to tell you that I know God is going to do great things through you. I will be praying for you every step of the way.”
Chaim seemed unable to speak. Finally his eyes filled and he rasped, “Thank you very much, my young sister. That means more to me than I can say.”
As Buck trudged into the last building, he found himself next to Alex Athenas, going over his notes. “Ugly work,” Buck said.
Alex grunted. “Uglier than I thought. Who’d have guessed those women would be so resolute? We’re going to run into some of their husbands now. We’ll find out who’s tougher.”
“I find it hard to believe you’ve got religious dissidents in with hardened criminals.”
“That’s not my call. I’ve got one job here.”
“I wouldn’t want it.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“Don’t you agree the mix in this building is strange?”
The others passed as Alex stopped and looked Buck full in the face, making him uncomfortable. “Let me ask you something, Jensen. Have you ever talked to Nicolae Carpathia?”
Buck froze. Why would he guess that? “It’s been a long time,” Buck said.
“Well, I have. And he sees the dissidents as every bit as dangerous as the criminals. Well, they’re both criminals.”
“Murderers and people of faith?”
“People of the wrong faith, the divisive faith, the intolerant faith.”
Buck stepped closer. “Alex, listen to yourself. You just sent more than a dozen women to their deaths because they don’t share Nicolae Carpathia’s faith. And you call them intolerant?”
Alex stared back. “I’ve got a mind to turn you in. You make me wonder about your loyalty.”
“Maybe I’m wondering about it too. Whatever happened to freedom?”
“We’ve still got freedom, Jack,” Alex spat. “These people can decide for themselves whether they want to live or die.”
Buck followed him in. This was by far the largest holding room, men of all ages milling about, talking. Buck noticed at least two dozen men with the mark of God on their foreheads, and they all seemed to be earnestly pleading with small groups of others. Strangely, the others seemed to be listening.
Buck caught Albie’s eye. “See all of them?” he mouthed. Albie nodded sadly. It was great to see so many believers, but that meant more carnage was not far off. Buck wondered how he could let Pastor Demeter know he was there.
He asked a guard, “Who’s the leader of the dissidents?”
“The local Judah-ites?”
Buck shrugged. “That what they call them here?”
The guard nodded and pointed to where the tall, dark-haired man was surrounded by at least a dozen others. He was speaking earnestly and quickly, gesturing. Rayford had first told Buck of the man’s gift of evangelism, and he must have been exercising it with desperation. Buck moved to where he could hear.
“‘But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’ That’s you and me, gentlemen. I’m pleading with you not to take this mark. Receive Christ, get your sins forgiven, stake your claim with the God of the universe.”
“It could cost us our lives,” one said.
“It will cost you your life, friend. You think I don’t know this is a hard thing? Ask yourself, do I want to be with God in heaven this very night, or do I want to pledge my loyalty to Satan and never be able to change my mind? Tonight you’ll be dead for an instant and then in the presence of God. Or you can live another few years and spend eternity in hell. The choice is yours.”
“I want God,” a man said.
“You know the consequences?”
“Yes, hurry.”
“Pray with me.” They knelt.
“On your feet, everyone!” Alex called out.
“God, I know I’m a sinner,” Pastor D began, and the man repeated it.
“I said on your feet!”
“Forgive my sins and come into my life and save me.”
“Don’t make me send a guard in there to break your heads!”
“Thank you for sending your Son to die on the cross for me.”
“All right, get in there!”
“I accept your gift and receive you right now.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
Buck noticed that other men were repeating the prayer too, though their eyes were open and they faced the front, standing.
“Amen.”
Just as the guard got to Pastor D, he stood and pulled the other man up.
“You two listen up now!”
As the guard left, Buck heard a man whisper, “Pray that again.”
Pastor D started in again, quietly, still appearing to be paying attention as Alex finished his information. All throughout the cage, other men were praying and leading others to do the same. The murmuring floated toward the guards, but it was hard to pin on one person.
“I need to know if any of you will be rejecting the mark of loyalty so we can get you in the right line now!”
“Put me in the other line!” Pastor D called out.
“You’re rejecting?”
“Yes, sir!”
“You understand the consequences?”
“Yes. I reject the authority of the ruler of this world and wish to—”
“I didn’t ask for your philosophy, sir. Just get in the line to my right as—”
“I wish to pledge my allegiance to the true and living God and his Son, Jesus Christ!”
“I said be quiet!”
“He is the one who offers the free gift of salvation to anyone who believes!”
“Silence that man!”
“What are you going to do, kill me twice? Oh, that I could die twice for my God!”
“Anyone else?”
“Me!”
“Me too!”
“Count me in!”
“Sign me up!”
And one after the other, as the men chose their own deaths, they began to holler their reasons.
“I just became a believer tonight, right here! Do it, men! It’s true! God loves you!”
“Silence!”
“I was arrested because I was worshiping God with fellow believers! God will never leave you or forsake you!”
“Guards!”
The guards followed Alex’s men into the cage, throwing men to the ground, stomping their heads and faces.
“Do not resist!” Pastor D shouted. “We’ll be out of our misery soon! May the very men who beat us listen to our report before it’s too late!”
He was smacked atop the head with a baton and crumbled to the floor. A criminal who Buck noticed did not have the seal of God on his forehead grabbed the guard around the neck from behind and threw him down as others climbed atop.
“Don’t resist, brothers!” a believer yelled. “Just speak the truth!”
But the unbelievers were rioting. “I’m taking Carpathia’s mark!” one screamed. “But stop hurting these men! I’m a coward, but they are brave! Agree with them or not, they have more courage than any of us!”
A guard jumped him and wrapped his arms around the man’s head, a hand on his chin. He yanked until the neck snapped and the man fell dead.
Alex, who remained outside the cage guarding his men’s weapons, grabbed one and fired into the air, squelching the bravado of most unbelievers. “I will authorize my people to shoot to kill!” he said. “Now get to my left if you are accepting the mark of loyalty to the Global Community and our risen potentate. And get to the right if—”
“There is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus!”
“Silence that man!”
The believers helped Pastor D up, but he could not stand alone. They carried him to the front of the line to Alex’s right, and dozens of others fell in behind. Suddenly they began singing, “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus! What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus!”
“Herd them out! Shut them up! Guillotine line first! Move! Move!”
“O precious is the flow, that makes me white as snow! No other fount I know! Nothing but the blood of Jesus!”
As the line passed Buck, he grabbed Pastor D by the shirt and pulled him up, as if forcing him to walk. He whispered desperately in his ear, “Jesus is risen!”
Demetrius Demeter, he of the gift of evangelism, eyes rolling back, tongue thick, legs failing, mumbled, “Christ is risen indeed!”
Buck watched the staggering band, each with the seal of God on his forehead, march to the death room, singing of the blood of Jesus and accepting the blows. He could not follow them in, knew he could not endure witnessing the deaths of these saints, old and new. Eyes filling, he found Albie in the crowd and motioned with a nod that he should follow. They strode quickly to the jeep, but not soon enough to avoid hearing the first slide and thud and the cheering of the bloodthirsty crowd.
Buck fired up the engine to drown out the sounds and squealed off into the night. He and Albie shared not a word as they raced south twenty-five miles to the airport at Kozani. Buck skidded to a stop by the motor pool and they leapt out, hurrying through the gate.
“Key in it?” someone called, and Buck nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
As he and Albie marched across the tarmac toward the runway and the hangar where their refueled jet awaited, Buck saw a tiny Asian woman sitting next to a huge suitcase and a smaller bag on a bench under a light pole. Something about the way the light illuminated her red, GC prison-system uniform made her look angelic.
She appeared tentative when she saw them and stood, pulling her orders from her pocket. She was a sliver of reality, a link to life, to safety, a cup of cold water in a desert of despair.
“Tell me you’re Ming Toy,” Buck said brusquely, barely trusting his voice.
“I am. Mr. Williams?”
Buck nodded.
“And Mr. Albie?”
“Jensen and Elbaz until we board, ma’am, please,” Albie said, and Buck could tell he was just as ragged emotionally.
“Let me see your papers,” Buck said, picking up her suitcase while Albie grabbed the other bag.
“Let me carry something, gentlemen. You have no idea how I appreciate this.”
“Until we get on that plane, Ms. Toy,” Albie said, “we’re just following orders and ferrying an employee from one assignment to another.”
“I understand.”
“Once we’re on board, we can make nice.”
Buck tossed her suitcase behind the backseat, then helped her aboard and pointed to a seat. As she buckled in, Albie slipped behind the controls. Buck sat next to him but did not strap himself in. He turned so his knees were between his chair and Albie’s and grabbed a clipboard.
He faced the silent woman behind him. “Ms. Toy,” he said, and he began to sob. “We have to do a preflight checklist and get clearance for takeoff.” She squinted at him in much the same way he assumed she must deal with the prisoners at Buffer. She had to be wondering what in the world was wrong with this man. “But once we are airborne,” he said between great gasps, “we are going to tell you what a miracle you are and why we so badly needed you to be on this plane tonight.” He caught his breath and added, “And we’re going to tell you a story you won’t believe.”