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“Your wife, God rest her soul, was—” Rayford gripped the chair so tight he thought his fingertips might burst. He clenched his teeth. The Antichrist himself bestowing a God-rest-her-soul on his wife? Rayford trembled with rage. He prayed desperately that if it was true, if he had lost Amanda, that God would use him in the death of Nicolae Carpathia. That was not to come until three and a half years into the Tribulation, and the Bible foretold that Antichrist would then be resurrected and indwelt by Satan anyway. Still, Rayford pleaded with God for the privilege of killing this man. What
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“Pan-Con officials tell me,” Carpathia continued, “that the plane was simply not airworthy at that speed. Eyewitnesses say it cleared the banks of the Tigris, hit first nearly halfway across the river, flipped tail up, then plunged out of sight.”
Rayford no more believed Carpathia was sorry than that Amanda was dead. He believed even less that she had ever acted in concert with Nicolae Carpathia.
Yeah, no way is Amanda dead. I really want her to have a villainous reveal in act 3, though. “Hello... Rayford.” DUN DUN DUN
Rayford’s body went rigid when Carpathia touched his shoulder. He envisioned leaping from the chair and choking the life out of Carpathia. He sat seething, eyes closed, feeling as if he were about to explode.
The Global Community recently secured sole ownership of all international satellite and cellular communications companies. We will have in place in a few months the first truly global communications network. It is cellular, and it is solar powered. I call it Cellular-Solar.
Carpathia appeared to have lost the ability to hide his glee. If this technology worked, it solidified Carpathia’s grip on the earth. His takeover was complete. He owned and controlled everything and everybody.
Unless Mac was a closet Carpathia sympathizer, they had serious things to discuss. They wouldn’t be able to do that inside, where every room was likely wiretapped. Rayford wanted Mac for the kingdom. He would be a wonderful addition to the Tribulation Force,
After the earthquake, they have a few open positions
Tsion lifted a split and crushed secretary desk and flung it at Buck’s feet. “Oh, Cameron! I did not see you there.” “Trying to get to the refrigerator?”
No! Did Chloe pull an Indiana Jones? Did she literally fridge herself to survive???
How he loved her! Was it possible he had known her less than two years? She had seemed much older than twenty when they had met, and she had the bearing of someone ten or fifteen years older now. She had been a gift from God, more precious than anything he had ever received except salvation. What would his life have been worth following the Rapture, had it not been for Chloe? He would have been grateful and would have enjoyed that deep satisfaction of knowing he was right with God, but he would have also been lonely and alone.
Ah yes, true love. “I didn’t really need this woman, God, but thanks for tossing her my way! She’s the perfect gift.”
The old Israeli was still enamored of Carpathia. That had to change. Chaim needed Christ. So did Ken Ritz, the pilot Buck had used so many times. He would have to check on Ken, make sure he was all right, see if he had planes that still flew.
I have to assume the bulk of the 144,000 witnesses, of whom I am one, must come from Israel. Not all of them will. Many will come from tribes all over the globe.
I’d like to reiterate that there are only two Jewish tribes left. The other ten were killed or dispersed during the Assyrian conquest of Israel. THAT’S WHY THEY ARE CALLED THE TEN LOST TRIBES.
“Send word ahead that I was killed in the earthquake,” the rabbi said. “Then I can go in disguise under one of those phony names you come up with.” “Not without plastic surgery you won’t,” Buck said. “You’re a recognizable guy, even in Israel where everybody your age looks like you.”
Buck, you racist
As he and Tsion tiptoed through the house, it became obvious something was amiss in the tiny breakfast nook at the back. Buck gaped, and Tsion turned away and bent at the waist. Sandy Moore had been at the table with her newspaper and coffee when a huge oak tree crashed through the roof with such force that it flattened her and the heavy wood table. The dead girl’s finger was still curled around the cup handle, and her cheek rested on the Tempo section of the Chicago Tribune. Had not the rest of her body been compressed to inches, she might have appeared to be dozing.
The deaths keep getting more and more gruesome.
In the alley Buck found planks, which they forced under the tree as levers, but a trunk with enough mass to destroy roof, wall, window, woman, and table would not be budged.
“. . . roof, wall, window, WOMAN, and table. . . “
“I confess I am thinking less of respect for her body than for the possibility that we have found a place to live.”
Jesus Christ, Tsion! No respect for the dead.
They found mostly discarded computer parts until they came upon Donny’s stash of tools. A hammer, chisels, a crowbar, and a handsaw should do it, Buck thought.
I really shouldn’t be legitimately wondering whether Buck plans to cut apart the tree or Sandy’s body
They were careful not to touch Sandy Moore’s body with the saw.
Thank God
When they had sawn to about her waist, the weight of her upper body made the boards beneath her give way, and she slowly dropped into Buck’s arms. He gasped and held his breath, fighting to keep his balance. His shirt was covered with her sticky blood, and she felt light and fragile as a child.
This is like a scene out of Breaking Bad or something
Tsion had not known Donny or his wife. He pronounced no eulogy. He merely quoted an old hymn, which made Buck cry so loudly he knew he could be heard down the block. But no one was around, and he could not stop the sobs.
Buck slept the sleep of the mourning, praying he would never have to wake up.
Everyone grieves differently, but I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at all if my wife was still missing, potentially crushed beneath a house.
Rayford could muster not a whit of interest in whom Carpathia might be talking to or what about. If a gadget allowed him to listen in, he wouldn’t even flip the switch.
No more spyware exposition dumps?
Mac seemed as ready to hear about God as anyone he had ever talked to. Why did it happen this way? When he had been most eager to share, he had tried to get through to his old senior pilot, Earl Halliday, who had had no interest and was now dead. He had tried without success to reach Hattie Durham, and now he could only pray there was still time for her. Here was Mac, in essence begging him for the truth, and Rayford would rather be back in bed.
What have I become? Rayford wondered. He was playing games with the potentate of the world. Petty. Silly. Immature. But I don’t care.
Rayford tasted bile. “Lord, please,” he prayed silently, “keep my mouth shut.” It only made sense that the embodiment of evil himself was the slimiest of liars. To imply that Amanda had been his plant, a mole in the Tribulation Force for the Global Community, and then to feign sorrow over her death? A lethal wound to the head was too good for him. Rayford imagined torturing the man who led the forces of evil against the God of the universe.
Please please please let the book interrogate this need for Rayford to torture the Antichrist. So far, it’s the only thing interesting about Rayford, the only flaw worth building drama around.
It was all Rayford could do to feign civility.
Rayford wanted to vomit. “So now you’re some sort of deity?” “That is not for me to say, though clearly, raising a dead man is a divine act. Mr. Fortunato believes I could be the Messiah.”
Rayford wanting to hurl is the new “female character cries”
I know a faction out there, including many of your so-called tribulation saints, labels me an antichrist, or even the Antichrist.
Actually, most of the time they just say “Antichrist” for some reason. I guess it’s like Facebook; better without the “the.”
“Let me get this straight. There’s a possibility you are the Messiah, but you don’t know for sure?” Carpathia nodded solemnly. “That makes no sense,” Rayford said.
Well, I think that depends on your reading of the OT, Rayford. I mean, in some readings of the Gospels, Jesus didn’t even know until his baptism. BUT I feel like there is a clause somewhere in there about the Messiah being Jewish, so that would be the first disqualifier I’d toss at Carpathia.
“Meanwhile, I would like you and Mr. McCullum to load whatever equipment you need onto the 216 and chart a course to bring these international ambassadors to join those who are already here.”
It feels like Carpathia only has maybe 6 people on his staff. Like, does the President of the US confide this much in his AF1 pilot?
“Pontifex Maximus Peter Mathews, Enigma Babylon One World Faith.
Gesundheit
Rayford shrugged. He wasn’t sure why God had put him in this position, but until he felt led to leave it, he would hang in.
And so, Rayford decided he’d had enough of being an active participant in the story. Soon he will find a comfortable chair to watch and listen as the rest of the plot unfolds.
“I know it is difficult for loved ones to let go unless they see the body.
It’s also super trope-y, and a clear signal to the reader that Amanda’s not dead
Buck lay back down and rolled onto his side. As he lost consciousness he reminded himself that in the morning he needed one last look around Loretta’s neighborhood—one more desperate attempt to find Chloe.
This is gonna take up all of Act One, isn’t it.
Rayford always ignored obvious questions. He just shook his head.
But that’s the opposite of ignoring it!!!
“Uh-huh, but would a fink make a dangerous dive with you?” Rayford stared at him. “I couldn’t let you do that.” “You can’t stop me. If my guy can get a suit and a tank for you, he can get them for me, too.”
I’m all for this budding bromance between Rayford and Mac.
He told Mac his life story, starting with the kind of family he was raised in—decent, hardworking, but uneducated people. He had shown a proclivity for math and science and was fascinated by aviation. He did well in school, but his father could not afford to send him to college. A high school counselor told him he should be able to get scholarships, but that he needed something extra on his résumé.
Jeez, *we* didn’t even get this much detail when we first met Rayford. Are you gonna tell him about your first kiss too?
Rayford told of how he broke his promise to be a regular churchgoer. They’d had fights and Irene had shed tears, but he sensed she had resigned herself to the fact that “at least in this one area, I was a creep who couldn’t be trusted.
I don’t know, “creep” seems like a strong word for someone who doesn’t go to church with you every Sunday.
Every once in a while a sermon or part of one offended me. But I let it slide. Nobody was checking up on me. The same things offended most of our friends. We called it getting our toes stepped on, but it never happened twice in a row.”
Okay, hang on, this is one area where I want more details. What did you and your clubhouse friends find offensive in church sermons? More specifically, what does Tim LaHaye think people are offended by in church sermons? Because I don’t think he knows what people actually take issue with.
Anybody who tried to convince you of something from the Bible or ‘shared his faith’ with you, well, those guys were right-wingers or zealots or fundamentalists or something. I stayed as far away from them as I could.”
And let me tell you something I’ve told precious few other people, Mac. I was almost unfaithful to Irene while she was pregnant with Raymie. I was drunk, it was at a company Christmas party, and it was stupid. I felt so guilty, not because of God I don’t think, but because of Irene. She didn’t deserve that. But she never suspected, and that made it worse.
You said “almost” unfaithful! ALMOST! Like, sure, maybe you should feel like a douche, but you don’t get to pretend you went through with it and carry the stain of infidelity. And for Pete’s stake, do something interesting for once.
I told him if I could just put this behind me and never do it again, would he please not let our unborn baby die. If anything had been wrong with our baby, I don’t know what I would have done.”
Uggggggh
The control was as responsive as a joystick, and he found himself overcompensating.
“Irene, however, really loved the new church. She made me nervous when she started talking about sin and salvation and forgiveness and the blood of Christ and winning souls.
Winning souls
Eventually I started to get those old stirrings again, and I had my eye on my senior flight attendant.” “Uh-oh,” Mac said. “Tell me about it. We had a few drinks, shared a few meals, but it never went past that. Not that I didn’t want it to.
Does this point need to be reiterated a dozen times per book?
Emily liked this
Rayford paused, disgusted with himself even now for how low he had sunk.
“You’re not saying . . .” Mac said. “I was looking for a date when all those people disappeared.” “Man!”
There was a lot more to Rayford’s story, of course, but he just wanted that to sink in.
“Albie, you old son of a gun!
Rick and Morty has ruined this line forever
