Left Behind Series - The Remnant Part 46

"You do?"

"You think I do not sneak a look occasionally at the Ben Judah Web site? I know my decision is irreversible."

"You wish it wasn't?"

"I don't know. I am not blind, not deaf. I can see what's happening. If I had to say right now, I would say I envy you."

Chapter.

IT WAS time to wake Chloe, at least. And once she was up, the others soon followed.

Chang had called. The Trib Force needed to be packed and prepared to relocate at a moment's notice.

Chloe worked quickly, though bleary eyed, with Kenny wrapped around her neck most of the time. George and Mac collected large quant.i.ties of canned and boxed foods, then started loading cars.

Hannah, who helped Leah get the Co op stuff in order, looked like she could use several more hours of sleep.

George told Buck he had arranged for someone to come and get him in Chicago but agreed he should reroute them, possibly through Long Grove, and meet them there. "We've got room for you and Chloe and the baby in San Diego, and I'd love to be your pilot."

Buck had to think about that one. He could think of worse scenarios. Leah had tentatively arranged for him and his family to move in with Lionel Whalum and his wife. Buck didn't know the man but he wouldn't likely have personally known anyone they might stay with. Whalum had agreed to the setup, telling Leah he had a large suburban home but that he was planning to be gone frequently with runs to and from Petra.

"Leah," Buck said, "maybe you and Hannah ought to move in with the Whalums and let us take this opportunity George is offering.

That way, you'd have a pilot, and so would we."

"Why don't you just take over and do this job, Buck, if you're going to make all my work a waste of time anyway. "

"Chloe's up now anyway, Leah. Why don't you just get yourself ready to go."

She looked stricken and hurried away. Buck intercepted her.

"Listen, let's forgive each other under the circ.u.mstances. Think about this: Whalum is transporting stuff to Petra all the time."

"I know, Buck. Chloe and I have been helping coordinate that. "

"Are you thinking?"

"Are you insulting?" she said.

"You're not thinking."

"What?! "

"Catch a ride over there with him sometime, Leah. Anybody in Petra you want to see?"

That stopped her, briefly. "Oh, Buck, you can't be serious. I don't deny I'm enamored of Tsion. Who isn't? But he's not going to have the time for a friend with all he has going over there."

"So, what, are you afraid Long Grove is going to be too close to Chicago when the bomb hits? It may be."

"No I "

"You want to go with George to San Diego? They might need medical help out there. And there are private quarters. n.o.body's sharing a house. They're in underground shelters, like Quonset huts."

"No, that sounds perfect for you and your family. I'll talk to Hannah about Long Grove."

"Did I hear my name?" Hannah said. "I prefer the Southwest."

"Got a contact?" Leah said. "Need one?"

Within a few minutes Hannah had agreed to stick with Leah. Zeke and Mac were the only two left without arrangements. "I got to be somewhere where people can get to me to take advantage of my services," Zeke said. "Someplace safe but central."

"Workin' on it," Chloe called out.

"I want to be where I can make runs to Petra," Mac said on one of his trips in for more boxes. "Maybe get Rayf ord out."

"Rayford ought to stay there," Buck said. "Might drive him crazy after a while, but he's got everything he needs to safely keep track of everybody."

By the time they were set to pull out if and when the word came, Albie had invited Mac to Al Basrah, and Zeke was set up with an underground unit in western Wisconsin, a city called Avery, not far from the Minnesota border. Buck called Chang. "We're gonna be noisy parading out of here," he said, "but I don't guess we have any choice. "

"Go in the wee hours," Chang said, "only a few at a time over the next few days. I'll be able to tell if anyone's on to you. It's a risk, but you know the odds if you wait."

The entire group all forty of them, including the thirty-one from The Place met in a huge circle. They wrapped their arms around each other and prayed for each other and wept. All of them. Even George and Mac. And seeing all those tears made Kenny cry, which made the others laugh.

"It seems as if we just got here," Buck said. "And now we don't know when we might see each other again. I have a list here of what order we'll go in, and my family and I will be the last ones out."

The Strong Building had been safe for only so long. And now it would disgorge a few of them at a time into a hostile world that belonged to Antichrist and the False Prophet, the Global Community, and millions of searching eyes that demanded a sign of loyalty none of these had. "I could lose you," Vasily said. "Misplace you. What can I say?

You escaped."

Steve sat with him in the parking lot at Resurrection Airport.

"What, I raced away in my chair, and you couldn't keep up? Too late. Let's go." It wasn't easy, and Steve wasn't going to pretend it was. He had often wondered, when reading or seeing a movie about a condemned man, what it must have felt like to make that last long walk. It wasn't long enough, he felt, especially in a chair.

As they approached the loyalty mark application site in the north wing of the airport, Steve noticed the line was longer than he had seen it in ages. The crackdown, the intensifying whatever New Babylon wanted to call it was working. Hundreds milled around the statue of Carpathia, bowing, praying, singing, wors.h.i.+ping. For the moment, the guillotine was silent. In fact, Steve didn't know if it had ever been used in this part of the state. Some had been martyred near Denver. Others in Boulder. Maybe he would be the first here. Perhaps no one was trained to use the facilitator.

But there it stood, gleaming and menacing, and those in line for the mark laughed nervously and kept glancing at it.

Steve was still in the part of the line that snaked its way to the decision-making point. No one was expected to make the "wrong" choice, of course. The stocky, sixtyish, red-haired woman with the doc.u.ments and the files and the keyboard barely looked up as people identified themselves and chose what they wanted tattooed and where they wanted it. As they were administered the mark, they raised their fists or whooped and hollered. Then they made straight for the image, where they paid homage.

Steve had lived for his daily encouragement and education from Tsion Ben-Judah. It had been his only form of

church. There was interaction between him and Rayford and him and Chang, and occasionally him and Buck or one of the others. But he was starved for live contact with other believers. That would be quickly remedied.

Steve debated whether to use his real name, to finally come clean and tell the GC he had been undercover for a long time. But his name would easily be linked with Buck Williams from their days at the Weekly, and how long would it take to progress from there to the link with Rayford, then Chloe, then the Co op, and who knew?

maybe even Chang?

He couldn't risk that kind of exposure, especially for people who didn't know it was coming. When it was finally Steve's turn, the woman noticed easily in his dress uniform and said brightly, "We've been expecting you two. This must be Pinkerton Stephens."

"In the flesh, Ginger," Steve said, studying her badge.

"How about a nice and a tasteful image of the supreme potentate?" she said, looking him up and down, clearly puzzled by his garb.

"And where would you put it?" Steve said.

"Your choice."