Read The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession Online

Authors: Tim Lahaye,Jerry B. Jenkins

Tags: #Adventure, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adult, #Thriller, #Contemporary, #Spiritual, #Religion

The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession (21 page)

BOOK: The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession
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Buck grimaced and held his breath as they swept toward the barrier. T must have adjusted one flap to avoid a direct hit, because the plane lurched right, and something underneath slammed the barrier. Now they were in no-man’s-land.

“God forgive me!” Chaim shouted as the jet was tossed back to the left, then dipped and nearly crashed as T pulled out all the stops. The tail seemed to drag, and Buck couldn’t imagine how it stayed airborne. They headed for a grove of trees, but it was as if T knew he couldn’t afford the drag that a turn would require. He seemed to set the jet at the shallowest possible angle to clear the trees and set it at full power. That was their one chance to get airborne, and if successful, the Super J would rocket into the night toward Greece. T would have to worry later about conserving fuel and landing on one tire.

Buck sat with fists clenched, eyes shut, grimacing, fully expecting to hit the trees and crash. He was pressed back against his seat, his head feeling the G

forces as the Super J broke into open sky. He allowed his eyes to open, and in his peripheral vision, Chaim remained hunched over, now lamenting in Hebrew.

Buck unstrapped but found himself struggling to step toward the cockpit against the centrifugal force. “You did it, T!”

“Lost what was left of that bad tire, though,” T said.

“Think we lost the whole wheel assembly. I thought we were going down.”

“Me too. That was some takeoff.”

“I’ve got about two hours to decide how to land. I know one-wheel landings can be done, but I’d almost rather pull up the one good wheel and go in belly first.”

“Would this thing take it?”

“Not like a big one would. I’d say we’re fifty-fifty for success either way.”

“That’s all?”

T reached for Buck’s hand. “I’ll see you in heaven, regardless.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. If I didn’t believe that, I’d have taken my chances with the GC back there.”

Buck started when Chaim spoke, and he realized the Israeli was standing right behind him. “You see, Cameron? I was right! I should not have come! Now we have a one-in-two chance of surviving, and you two are just fine, knowing where you’re going …”

“I wouldn’t say I’m fine, Chaim,” Buck said. “I’ll be leaving a wife and son.”

“You’ve already given up?” T said. “I said we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of landing successfully. Even a crash landing doesn’t have to be fatal.”

“Thanks for that cheery word,” Buck said, turning to head back to his seat.

“Pray for me,” T called after him.

“I will,” Buck said.

“So will I,” Chaim said, and Buck shot him a look. He didn’t appear to be kidding.

After Rosenzweig was buckled in, Buck leaned over and clapped him on the knee.

“You don’t have to be afraid of death, you know. I mean dying, yeah, I’m afraid of that too, afraid it’ll hurt, that I might burn. I hate leaving my family. But you’re right. T and I know where we’re going.”

Chaim looked terrible, worse than Buck had seen him since the night before. He couldn’t make it compute.

Chaim had seemed almost giddy after escaping the Gala.

Then he was suicidal after hearing about Jacov and his family and Stefan. But now he looked grave. So, he was human after all. Despite all the talk of suicide, he was afraid to die.

Buck knew he had to be as forthright with Chaim as he had ever been. “We may meet God tonight, Chaim,” he began, but Rosenzweig immediately made a face and waved him off.

“Don’t think I wasn’t listening all these years, Cameron. There is nothing more you can tell me.”

“Still you refuse?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I don’t need to be walked through this.”

Buck couldn’t believe it. Chaim said that as if he were going to do “this” on his own.

“I do have one question, however, Cameron. I know you don’t consider yourself an expert like Dr. Ben-Judah, but what is your best guess about how God feels about motives?”

“Motives?”

Chaim looked frustrated, as if he wished Buck caught his drift without Chaim having to explain. He looked away, then back at Buck. “I know God is real,” he said, as if confessing a crime. “There has been too much evidence to deny it. I can’t explain away any of the prophecies, because they all come true. The evidences for Jesus as Messiah nearly convinced me, and I had never been a Messiah watcher. But if I were to do what you and Tsion have been pleading with me to do for so long, I confess it would be with the wrong motive.”

Except for the likelihood that they might be dead within a couple of hours, Buck wished Tsion was with them right then. He wanted to ask Chaim what his motive was, but he sensed he would lose him if he interrupted.

Chaim pressed his lips together and hung his head.

When he looked up again, he seemed to fight tears. He shook his head and looked away. “I need to think some more, Cameron.”

“Chaim, I’ve pleaded with you before to not run out of time. Clearly I’m on solid footing to say so now.”

Suddenly Rosenzweig leaned over and grabbed Buck’s elbow. “That’s the very issue! I’m scared to death. I don’t want to die. I thought I did, thought it was the only answer to being a murderer, even if I believed I was just in killing the man. But I did it with forethought, with months of forethought. I planned it, fashioned my own weapon, and saw it through. I have no pity, no sympathy for Nicolae Carpathia. I came to believe, as you do, that he was the devil incarnate.”

That wasn’t quite accurate, but Buck held his tongue.

While believers were convinced Carpathia was the Antichrist and deserved to be killed and stay dead, they knew that he would not literally be Satan incarnate until he came back to life. Whether he deserved to live again or not, that was what was prophesied.

“It’s hard for me to fathom that I might have been in God’s plan from the beginning. If it is true that Carpathia is the enemy of God and that he was supposed to die from a sword wound to the head, I feel like Judas.”

“Judas? A nonreligious Jew knows the New Testament too?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron. Everyone understands what a Judas is. Someone was to betray Jesus, and it fell to Judas. Someone was to murder Antichrist, and while I cannot say it actually fell to me, I took the job into my own hands. But say it was my destiny. Though apparently God wanted it done, it certainly was not legal. And look at what it has cost me already! My freedom. My peace of mind, which, I admit, is only a distant memory. My loved ones.

“But Cameron, can God accept me if my motive is selfish?”

Buck squinted and turned to look out the window.

The dim, sparse lights of Israel receded fast. “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. 7 was selfish. I didn’t want to face the Antichrist without the protection of God in my life.”

“But Cameron, I am merely afraid to die! I feel like a coward. Here I did this rash thing, which many would say took courage and even strength of character. At first I took pride in it. Now I know, of course, that God could have used anyone to do it. He could have caused something to pierce Carpathia’s head during the earthquake. He could have had a political rival or a crazy man do it. Perhaps he did! Part of it was compulsion, especially perfecting the weapon. But I had motives, Cameron. I hated the man. I hated his lies and his broken promises to my homeland. I hated even what he did to the practicing Jews and their new temple, even though I did not count myself among them.

“I am without excuse! I am guilty. I am a sinner. I am lost. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go to hell. But I fear he will cast me out because I squandered so many opportunities, because I resisted for so long, because I suffered even many of the judgments and still was cold and hard. Now, if I come whimpering to God as a child, will he see through me? Will he consider me the little boy who cried wolf? Will he know that down deep I am merely a man who once had a wonderful life and enjoyed what I now see were bountiful gifts from God-a creative mind, a wonderful home and family, precious friends-and became a crazy old fool?

“Cameron, I sit here knowing that all you and Tsion and your dear associates have told me is true. I believe that God loves me and cares about me and wants to forgive me and accept me, and yet my own conscience gets in the way.”

Buck was praying as he had not prayed in ages.

“Chaim, if you told God what you’re telling me, you’d find out the depth of his mercy.”

“But, Cameron, I would be doing this only because I’m afraid I’m going to die in this plane! That’s all. Do you understand?”

Buck nodded. He understood, but did he know the answer to Chaim’s question?

People through the ages had all kinds of motives for becoming believers, and surely fear was a common one. He’d heard Bruce Barnes say that people sometimes come to Christ for fire insurance-to stay out of hell-only to later realize all the benefits that come with the policy.

“You said yourself that I don’t consider myself an expert,” Buck said, “but you also said you knew you were a sinner. That’s the real reason we need Jesus. If, you weren’t a sinner, you’d be perfect and you wouldn’t need to worry about forgiveness and salvation.”

“But I knew I was a sinner before, and I didn’t care!”

“You weren’t staring death in the face either. You weren’t wondering whether you might end up in hell.”

Rosenzweig rubbed his palms together. “I was tempted to do this when I was suffering from the locust attack. I knew that was a prophesied biblical event, but I also knew that becoming a believer would not speed my recovery.

“You told me that yourself. And relief would have been my only motive then, as I fear it is now. What I should do, intellectually, is wait and see if I survive this landing or this crash or whatever it is we’re going to do. If I am not facing imminent death, I won’t be so suspicious of my own intentions.”

“In other words,” Buck said, “‘get me out of this and I’ll become a believer’?”

Chaim shook his head. “I know better than to bargain with God. He owes me nothing; he need not do one more thing to persuade me. I just want to be honest.

If I would not have come to the same conclusion on the ground or in a plane with two good tires, then I should not rush into it now.”

Buck cocked his head. “Friend, rushing into this would be the last way I would describe you. My question is, why do you feel in any more danger now than you did on the ground, or than you will feel if we land safely?”

Chaim raised his chin and shut his eyes. “I don’t. The GC has already announced my death and is now free to exterminate me without the nuisance of publicity.

That’s why I found myself running to this plane. I don’t need to tell you the dread of living in exile.”

“But whatever motive you have now, you will also have if we survive. Nothing changes.”

“Maybe I’ll lose the urgency,” Rosenzweig said, “the sense of imminence.”

“But you don’t know that. They may have to foam the runway, bring out the emergency vehicles, all that. You can’t hide under a blanket or claim to be contagious when we leave the plane. And you can’t hide in the lav until the coast is clear. You’re going to be as exposed and as vulnerable as ever, safe landing or no.”

Chaim held up a hand and slowly closed his eyes.

“Give me a minute,” he said. “I may have more questions, but just leave me alone a moment.”

That was the last thing Buck wanted to do just then, but neither did he want to push Chaim away. He settled back, amazed at how smooth was the ride that might lead them to eternity.

Kenny Bruce took long afternoon naps, and Tsion looked forward to that. He loved the boy and had had a lot of fun with him for the last fourteen months, even in cramped quarters. He was a good-natured, though normal, kid, and Tsion loved teasing him and playing with him.

Kenny could be wearying, however, especially for one who had not been around infants for nearly twenty years. Tsion needed a nap himself, though he was still desperate not to miss whatever was going to happen in New Babylon.

“Mama?” Kenny asked for the dozenth time, not troubled but curious. It was unusual for her to be gone.

“Bye-bye,” Tsion said. “Home soon. Getting sleepy?”

Kenny shook his head, even as he rubbed his eyes and appeared to be trying to keep them open. He yawned and sat with a toy, soon losing interest. He lay on his back, feet flat on the floor, knees up. Staring at the ceiling, he yawned, turned on his side, and was soon motionless. Tsion carried him to the playpen so he wouldn’t fuss if he awoke before Tsion did. There were plenty of things to keep him occupied there.

Tsion settled before the TV again and put his feet up.

The underground was cool, so he draped a blanket over himself. He tried to keep his eyes open as the GC
CNN
pool camera remained trained on the transparent coffin and the endless line of the mourning faithful from around the world.

Knowing that young David Hassid and his lady friend Annie Christopher were there, along with who knew how many other believers, he began silently walking through his prayer list. When he closed his eyes to pray for his comrades and his cybercongregation (more than a billion now), he felt himself nodding and his brain longing for sleep.

He peeked at the digital clock on the videodisc player atop the TV. He set the machine to record, just in case he fell asleep and was unable to wake up in time for “the” event. As he settled back in to try to pray, knowing full well he would drift off, the clock showed 12:57 in the afternoon.

Tsion began praying for Chloe, Leah, and Rayford, whom he knew were in the state. Then he prayed for T, Rayford’s friend, who was presently unaccounted for.

Then Cameron, always in the middle of something and who knew where. As his mind drifted to his old friend and professor, Dr. Rosenzweig, Tsion began feeling a tingle, much like when he had tried to intercede for Rayford.

Was it fatigue, a hallucination? So disconcerting, so real. He forced his eyes open. The clock still read 12:57, but he felt as if he were floating. And when he let his eyes fall shut again, he could still see plain as day. The cramped cellar was cool and musty, the sparse furniture in its place. Kenny slept unmoving in the playpen, blanket still tucked around him.

BOOK: The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession
11.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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