The Indwelling (Left Behind, #7)

by Tim LaHaye

Buck reached Jacov, who lay splayed, his head awkwardly flopped to one side, eyes staring, limbs limp. A sob worked its way to Buck’s throat as he elbowed stragglers out of the way and knelt to put a thumb and forefinger to Jacov’s throat. No pulse.

“No!” Leon bellowed, bullying his way between them and kneeling in Nicolae’s blood. Again he leaned over the body, but rather than holding Carpathia to him, he buried his face in the lifeless chest and sobbed aloud.

“Would you stop calling me sir?” “I thought you called me, sir.” “I mean quit calling me that!” “What? Sir? I’m sorry, I thought you were male.” “You stay right where you are, Director. I’ll be right over.” “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Guy? I mean, it’s you who wants to talk with me, not the other way ’round.”

David offered only Guy a chair across from his desk. “This is what you call hospitality?” Guy said. “There are six of us, hello.” “My apologies,” David said. “I was under the impression it was the responsibility of the guest to inform the host when uninvited people were coming.”

Smarter people were in the Force, Rayford knew, including his own daughter and son-in-law. And where on earth was a more brilliant mind than that of Tsion Ben-Judah? And yet they all naturally looked to Rayford for leadership. He had not sought it, nor did he hoard it. But he had been willing. And as the Force grew, so did his responsibility. But though his capacity could have expanded with the scope of his charge, the illogical had invaded. The man who had prided himself on his pragmatism found himself living by his emotions.

Gonna be honest, I don't really like Rayford. So arrogant.

She dropped into a chair. “What if he’s guilty? What if he’s a murderer? There’s no exception to God’s law if the victim is the Antichrist, is there?” Tsion shook his head. “None that I know of.” “Then mustn’t he turn himself in? Suffer the consequences?” “Slow down, Chloe. We know too little.” “But if he is guilty.” “My answer may surprise you.” “Surprise me.” “Off the top of the head, I believe we are at war. In the heat of battle, killing the enemy has never been considered murder.” “But . . .” “I told you I might surprise you. I personally would harbor your father from the GC if he shot Carpathia dead, even while urging him to seek God about himself.”

Standing there before Buck in slippers, socks, pajamas, and robe was a most robust Chaim Rosenzweig. “Cameron, Cameron,” he said, his voice strong and clear. “This is almost enough to make a believer out of me. I knew you’d come.”

David wondered why he had been asked to interfere with telephone capability and someone else had been asked to reverse it.

“We are all sinners, of course, battling our old natures every day.

“Doctor,” Eikenberry began, “why wasn’t I told of this?” “Well, I, we—” “Turning over a man with this kind of a weapon still in him is ten times more dangerous than a cop sticking his bare hands in a perp’s pocket without checking for needles or blades first!” “I’m sorry, I—” “You’re sorry? You want to help pull this out? Ah, never mind. Just tell me if there’s anything else I should have known.”

“As you said, ma’am, if you’ll pardon me, it isn’t your place to care about the cause of death, but only to assess it.” “Well, I’d say about an, oh, say, fifteen- to eighteen-inch, ah, what would you call this, Doctor, a big knife or a small sword?” “A handled blade, certainly.” “Certainly. I’d hazard a guess that this whatever-it-is entering about two inches below the nape of the neck and exiting about half an inch through the crown of the skull, that certainly didn’t enhance the victim’s health, did it?” “No, ma’am.” “Doctor, do you really not know why I wasn’t informed of this major, likely lethal wound?” “I know we didn’t want to prejudice you.” She laughed. “Well, you certainly succeeded there! As for nearly slicing open my assistants and me, what do you say to that?” “I guess I thought you’d see the, ah, sword.”

“Chaim, listen to me. Your staff is dead. They were tortured and massacred last night by the GC, probably trying to get to you.” Chaim looked up slowly, his hair casting wild shadows on the far wall. “Don’t talk crazy,” he said warily. “That is not amusing.” “I wouldn’t joke about that, Chaim. Jacov was killed by a blow to the chin that broke his neck. A guard hit him with the butt end of an Uzi when he tried to rush to you.” Chaim put a hand over his mouth and sucked in a noisy breath. “Don’t,” he said, his words muffled. “Don’t do this to me.” “I didn’t do it, Chaim. You did it.” “He’s dead? You know for certain he’s dead?” “I checked his pulse myself.” “What have I done?” “Hannelore and her mother and Stefan are gone too.”

“I was rolling toward him finally as he moved my way. My plan was to turn quickly at the last minute and trip him. Then I would leap from the chair and kill him. But just as he got near me, the gun went off. At first I thought I had been detected and that his security guards had shot me. But he lurched my way, away from the sound of the gun and the shattering lectern. “I could see that he was about to tumble into my lap, so I quickly withdrew the blade. I didn’t have time even to orient it in my hands. I pointed it straight up and held steady as he fell back onto it. I held firm and tried to scrape the brain from his evil head. He jerked, and I let go. He rolled to my feet. It was chaos. People came running. I steered away and, for an instant, I thought I had gotten away with it. The timing! The shot! I could tell it came from the crowd, and as I ran away I wondered if it might be mistaken for a two-person crime. “I had plotted an unlikely escape just on a lark. And here I am. Who would have believed it?”

“We all come to faith selfish in some ways, Chaim. How could it be otherwise? We want to be forgiven. We want to be accepted, received, included. We want to go to heaven instead of hell. We want to be able to face death knowing what comes next.

“Forgive me for coming to you only because I am afraid for my life. Only you know the truth about me, whether I am sincere. You know better than I. I know that I am a sinner and need your forgiveness for all my sins, even for murder, regardless that the victim was your archenemy. Thank you for taking the punishment for my sins. Forgive me and receive me into your kingdom. I want to give you all of myself for the rest of my days. Show me what to do. Amen.”

“I can’t say I’m any less scared,” Chaim said. “I’m scared too, friend, but a lot less than I would be if I didn’t know my destination.”

“I’m just saying I’d like to watch. There a problem with that?” “I don’t need my hand held.” “Believe me, Guy, I don’t want to hold your hand.” “Protocol demands that you not refer to me by my first name.” “Sorry, Blood.” “It’s Blod, and my last name isn’t appropriate either!” “Oh, I don’t think it’s that bad.” “Ooh! My title is Minister!” “Sorry, Reverend Minister. But your supreme commander and mine wants a liaison from administration present when you move naked boy into position.” “How rude and tacky.” “That’s sort of what I thought, but I’m surprised you agree.” “David!” “Ah, Director Hassid to you, Minister Blood.

The cockpit portion had come to rest directly by a huge runway lamp, which filled the wreckage with light. Buck saw no blood, no bones, no twisted limbs. He stepped behind T, who was sitting straight up, still strapped in. His left hand lay limp on his lap, his right hung open-palmed in the space between the seats. T’s head hung forward, chin on his chest. “T,” Buck said, a hand on his shoulder, “how we doin’, pal?” T felt warm, thick, and muscly. Buck put a finger to the right pressure point in the neck. Nothing. Buck felt the blanket slide from his shoulders. He slumped painfully into the seat across from T and grabbed the lifeless hand in both of his. “Oh, T,” he said. “Oh, T.”

“I’m airworthy now,” Buck said, looking over Laslos’s shoulder toward the little Middle Easterner. “You must be Albie.” “I am, sir,” he said with a thick accent and a slight bow. “Your father-in-law and your friend Mr. McCullum and I go way back. Also Abdullah Smith.” “How well I know. I did not expect to see your mark. Is my father-in-law aware?” Albie shook his head. “This was very recent, within the week. I tried to contact Rayford, but I found him impossible to connect with. Of course, now I know why.” “And how did you come to faith, sir?” “Nothing dramatic, I’m afraid. I have always been religious, but Rayford and Mac and Abdullah all urged me to at least consider the writings of Dr. Ben-Judah. Finally I did. You know what reached me? His assessment of the difference between religion and Christianity.” “I know it well,” Buck said, “if you’re referring to his contention that religion is man’s attempt to reach God, while Jesus is God’s attempt to reach man.”

“Father,” Ming said, “it will be better, nicer, to come in all at the same time.” Mrs. Wong reached for her husband’s arm, but he wrenched away. “I go sit! You no want sit now, you stay! Where seat?” Ahmal looked to David, who shook his head. “Mr. Ahmal! Check sheet! Where I sit?” “Well, you’re going to be in D-three, sir, but no one—” “I sit,” he said, pushing past, daring someone to stop him. “He’s only going to embarrass himself,” David said. “Let him go.”

David was struck by the fact that Leon, for all his sanctimony, seemed genuinely moved. No doubt he revered Carpathia and was more than the typical sycophant. Clearly he was jockeying for position as new supreme potentate, but here also was a man who grieved the loss of his friend and mentor and champion.

David wondered if the crowd would ever get as sick of itself as he was of the predictable clapping and cheering.

With global citizenship comes responsibility, and that responsibility entails subordination to those in authority over you.”

David’s eyes were drawn to the body. What was that? Almost imperceptible movement? Or had it been his imagination? He had imagined a corpse’s chest rising and falling at a funeral before. But until now, Carpathia’s body hadn’t given even the illusion of life.

David searched and searched for Annie, finally telling the Wong family he had to go. Mr. Wong, his face ravaged by tears and exhaustion, said, “No! You get us into receiving line.” “I’m sorry,” David said. “They’ve closed the line.” “But we in courtyard! VIP seat! You make happen.” “No,” David said, leaning close. “You’re the VIP. You make it happen.” As the older man sputtered, David squeezed Mom’s shoulder and embraced both Ming and Chang, whispering in their ears, “Jesus is risen.” Both responded under their breath, “He is risen indeed.”

“Did you see this, Dad?” he said, nodding toward the TV where GC CNN played and replayed the most dramatic moments from New Babylon. “Better not refer to me informally in front of the rest of the Force,” Rayford whispered, as he stared at the TV.

Seriously? -_-

The brief book of Jude, which is placed just before Revelation, describes that terrible apostasy and false teaching that will infiltrate the church and prevail in the days before the events of Revelation are unfolded.

Believers in Christ need to be tolerant in many areas of our lives (personally, socially, and legally), but we cannot be doctrinally tolerant when it comes to the essentials of the Christian faith.

But as we’ll see in the next volume, The Mark, those fears are ignorant of Scripture, which indicates that accepting the mark, in whatever form it actually takes, will be a deliberate choice made in the midst of the Tribulation. According to Tim LaHaye, it will be impossible for those who have become believers during this time to “inadvertently receive the devilish mark.”