Shaken (15 page)

“I thought they had you,” Shelly said.

“Let's get Melinda,” Vicki said.

As they walked across the plaza toward the truck, Vicki had to focus. Horses with lions' heads galloped overhead and angry riders bore down on the frightened crowds. Vicki knew she wasn't in danger, but walking close to the thundering herd of demonic beasts was still scary.

Vicki picked up the dented microphone. The truck door was closed, but through a small window she saw an incredible display of video monitors and a huge mixing console. Shelly gave a whoop from the front of the truck, and Vicki and Mark came running.

In the driver's seat sat the Morale Monitor who had shown Melinda on the worldwide satellite feed. Her eyes were open, but she had stopped breathing. Beside her sat Melinda, handcuffed to the passenger-side door handle.

Vicki used the key and quickly freed Melinda. “Let's get out of here.”

A huge explosion rocked the plaza. The kids huddled behind the truck and watched the arena fill with flames. Kids scrambled to get out of the way. Some were caught in the blast and killed instantly. Others were trapped inside.

“We have to help them!” Mark yelled over the noise. He ran to the front of the building. Kids screamed and pounded on a huge window, trying to get out. Vicki picked up a heavy rock and threw it as hard as she could, but it didn't even crack the glass.

“Too thick!” Mark said. “I'll be right back.” He ran from the area, fumbling in his pocket for something.

Vicki and the others helped as many kids as they could. Some coughed and wheezed, trying to breathe. Others lay motionless.

Moments later Mark raced up in their car. He honked the horn and yelled, “Tell them to move back from the window!”

Vicki motioned for the kids to move back as Mark revved the engine and hurtled toward the building. The crash sent glass flying as kids streamed out, pushing and shoving.

When they had done all they could do, Mark inspected the car. “Flat tire. I'll change it before we head back.”

Vicki looked at Melinda. “How did you get here from the schoolhouse?”

“Walked to the main road and hitched a ride.”

Vicki frowned. “No way all five of us are getting in this little car.”

Mark touched Vicki's shoulder. “I have an idea.”

14

“YOU
can't be serious,” Vicki said, pulling Mark away from the others.

“I'm dead serious. I've had this idea for a long time. This truck could help people learn the truth about God.”

“But that thing costs hundreds of thousands of Nicks! It's not right to steal it, even if it's for a good cause.”

“We wouldn't be stealing it; we'd borrow it.”

Darrion approached and asked what was wrong. Vicki told her.

“I'm with Vick,” Darrion said. “The GC will come looking for this.”

Mark pointed at the arena. “The GC is reeling from this judgment. They won't be back in operation for at least a couple of days. We can work on my idea in the meantime.”

“Tell us,” Darrion said.

“I want to break into the GC satellite feed. We wouldn't have much time, but if Carl helped us from Florida, it might work.”

Vicki squinted. “You mean, go live to the arena?”

“Not just here, but to every country taking the feed. Think of it! Everybody twenty and under will be at these meetings. If we come up with a creative way to tell the truth, something slick the GC will think is supposed to be there, it could be huge. And with the equipment in the truck, we can record a drop-in and they wouldn't know it's anti-Carpathia until it's too late.”

“Didn't you guys do this with a newspaper at your school?” Darrion said.

“Exactly,” Mark said. “It'll be the
Underground
by satellite. What do you think?”

Vicki hesitated. “I like the idea. I
don't
like stealing.”

“How else are we going to do it?”

“He's got a point,” Darrion said. “It's a shame to waste the opportunity.”

Vicki pursed her lips. She knew once Mark got an idea, it was difficult to talk him out of it. Vicki recalled the discussions they had had about the militia movement. Judd and Mark's cousin John had advised Mark not to get involved, but he hadn't listened. Vicki wished Judd could help make the decision about the truck.

“I don't feel good about it,” Vicki said. “If God wants us to do this, he'll provide—”

“He
is
providing a way!” Mark shouted. “Don't you see? He's put this truck right in front of us, and you're letting it slip through our fingers.”

Vicki tried to talk, but Mark cut her off. “Every time Buck Williams writes an article for his Internet magazine,
The Truth
, he's breaking the law. Every time Tsion Ben-Judah writes a letter about Carpathia to believers, he's breaking the law.”

“That's different. They're telling the truth, not stealing from the GC.”

“Dr. Ben-Judah was a wanted man, and Buck smuggled him out of Israel. Was that right?”

“Of course! Buck saved Tsion's life.”

“A lot of people lost their lives today,” Mark said. “I want to tell those who are still alive the truth before it's too late.”

“I agree. I just don't think God would want us to break one of his commandments so we—”

“Fine,” Mark interrupted. “I won't argue theology with the great Vicki Byrne!”

“That's a cheap shot!”

Mark turned and stomped toward the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out the spare tire.

Darrion put a hand on Vicki's shoulder. “Don't let Mark change your mind. Stick with what you know is right.”

Lionel watched the final assault of the horsemen with terror and fascination. He knew these were demonic beings, the same as the locusts. But how did they know which people would die? How did the smoke and sulfur and fire kill only people who weren't believers?

Lionel's friend Sam Goldberg logged onto the official Global Community Web site to get the latest official information. “They don't want to admit it, but these horsemen have to be killing a lot of GC personnel.”

As the horsemen continued their rampage, Lionel walked alone through the streets near Yitzhak's house. People who had been overcome by the smoke and fumes lay dead in the street. Those who had survived coughed and wandered about, looking for family members. Men and women cried like children. It was a scene his parents wouldn't have let him watch on TV, but now he was living it.

He stood on a corner and watched several Peacekeepers load bodies into a truck.
Where will the GC put all the bodies?
He shuddered and kept walking.

Lionel wanted to be home with the others in the Young Tribulation Force. They had been here in Israel so long. But Mr. Stein's plan of reaching people at Carpathia's Gala interested him. He could wait the three months until that was over to get back to his friends.

As he walked past abandoned cafés and street vendors' booths, he thought about the changes in the nearly three and a half years since the disappearances. He missed his brother and sisters more than he wanted to admit. He had trouble remembering their faces. He had one worn photo of his family left, and he took it from his wallet now and studied it. Clarice had been sixteen when the Rapture happened, the same age as he was now. A wave of guilt swept over him. He had pulled so many pranks on Clarice, everything from messing up her room to lying to boys who called her on the phone. He had once been so mad that he threw her favorite hairbrush in the toilet.

Lionel hadn't treated his little brother and sister, Ronnie and Talia, that bad. In fact, he had hardly paid attention to them. He called them “munchkins.” When Ronnie asked him to play basketball or ride bikes, Lionel made up some lame excuse.

Lionel's dad, Charles, had been a heavy-equipment operator in Chicago. He worked long days and was usually exhausted when he got home. Weekends were spent at church, but a few times he'd taken Lionel to a White Sox game.

Thoughts of his family came back at different times. Sunday mornings were hard. Lionel remembered the drive into the city, the stop at the donut shop where the kids would pick out their favorites. Birthdays at his house had been a huge deal, with cakes and presents, parties, and friends. His mom had always organized the fun. She had a way of knowing exactly what Lionel wanted, even without asking him. It was almost like she could crawl inside his mind. He would come home from a bad day at school and try to keep it inside.

But when his mom got home from her job at
Global Weekly
, all it took was one look. “What's wrong?” she would say, and he would spill it all. Of all the people on earth, he missed his mother the most.

On the morning of the disappearances, Lionel had been with his uncle André. It didn't take Lionel long to figure out what had happened. Unlike others who didn't have a clue, he knew exactly where his family was. Sitting next to his father's bedclothes, watching the horrifying news on television, he had felt so alone. Why couldn't he have been taken to heaven? But he knew the answer. He had never begun a relationship with God. He had played the good Christian, and everyone bought it. Everyone but God.

Now, as Lionel walked through the burning streets of Jerusalem, he knew there were many others just like him. They had either played at church, or they believed there was some way to God other than through Jesus.

Lionel found himself quite a distance from Yitzhak's house. He turned to retrace his steps, but stopped when he saw part of the city with no smoke or fire. He was near the Wailing Wall. A few steps farther and he saw Eli and Moishe, the two prophets of God.

Vicki and the others waited while Mark changed the tire. They could barely see through the smoke and fire near the arena. It billowed black and yellow.

“Will these things disappear like the locusts?” Shelly said.

Vicki shrugged. “I guess they'll leave when they're supposed to.”

Melinda watched for any sign of GC Peacekeepers. Most had run away or had been killed. A few walked through the crowds, coughing and sputtering.

Vicki took Melinda aside. “I thought we made it clear you would stay at the schoolhouse.”

“I know,” Melinda said, “but I was so excited—”

“I understand, but you're not just living for yourself now. You're part of a group. What you do or don't do affects everyone.”

“I didn't think about getting you guys into trouble.”

Mark finished with the tire and handed Shelly the keys. “There's not enough room for all of us. You guys head back.”

“We're not leaving without you,” Vicki said.

“Yes, you are. I'll find another way.”

“No!” Melinda said. “This is my fault.”

Mark held up a hand. “I've made up my mind. I'll see you guys back at the schoolhouse.”

Vicki nodded and all four girls climbed inside the little car. As Shelly drove away, Vicki noticed Mark walking into a thick cloud of smoke.

“How's he getting back?” Darrion said.

“He'll find a way.”