The Mark: The Beast Rules the World

TWO

Rayford mentally kicked himself. He had vastly underestimated the time and his ability to pick up Albie, settle on the disposition of both the fighter jet and the Gulf-stream, and get back to the new safe house before sunrise. The sun was already toying with the horizon. He patted his pants pocket for his phone. He felt for it in his flight bag, his jacket, on the floor.

He wanted to swear, but since coming to his senses just days before, Rayford acknowledged that he needed a return to discipline. He had learned from an old friend in college something he had then rejected as too esoteric and way too touchy-feely. His broad-minded friend had called it his "opposite trigger" mode, and while in it, he forced himself to respond in ways diametrically opposed to how he felt. If he wanted to shout, he whispered. If he wanted to smack someone, he gently caressed his or her shoulder.

Rayford hadn't thought about that old friend or his crazy idea until the lonely, emotional flight from the Middle East to Greece and then to the United North American States. And now he decided to try it. He wanted to swear at himself for being shortsighted and for losing his phone. Instead, he surveyed his mind for an opposite response. One opposite of swearing was blessing, but whom would he bless? Another was praying.

"Lord," he began, "once again I need some help. I'm mad at myself and have few options. I'm exhausted, but I need to know what to do."

Almost instantly Rayford remembered that Albie had his phone. Albie had a phone of his own, too, but in the bustle and grabbing of various items, Rayford had entrusted his to his friend. Sometime soon he would have to get someone to rig a radio base in the safe house with a secure channel to the chopper so he could communicate directly. Meanwhile, he couldn't tell the rest of the Tribulation Force where he was or that he would not be returning until at least late that same evening.

Neither could he determine whether Albie was all right. He would have to simply land, using his alias with the tower, and hope Albie was waiting for him up on their computers. "She wouldn't be in the system yet," he was told, "even if she were here."

"You're not swiping bar codes on the badges of employees as they are admitted?"

"They're not actually being admitted, Director. Everybody goes to triage, the living are treated, and the dead pronounced. Cataloging them is low on the priority list, but we'll eventually get everyone logged in."

"How will I know if she's there?"

"You may come look, but don't interfere and keep out of the way."

"Where's triage?"

"As far east as you can go from our main tent. We try to start 'em in the shade of three tents, but we're out of space and they're in and out of there as fast as we can move 'em."

"Mostly sunstroke?" David said.

"Mostly lightning, Director."

David left messages on Annie's phone and tried every other source he could think of that might know her whereabouts. Medical Services was too busy to look her "Tower to GC chopper! Do you copy?"

"This is GC chopper, Kankakee," Rayford said, trying to cover that he was rattled. "My apologies. Asleep at the stick here."

"Not literally, I hope."

"No, sir."

"State your business."

"Uh, yeah, civilian under the authority of Deputy Commander Marcus Elbaz."

"Mr. Berry?"

"Roger."

"Deputy Commander Elbaz asks that we set your mind at ease about your phone."

"Roger that!"

"Cleared for landing to the south where he will meet you in Hangar 2. You can appreciate we're shorthanded here. You can handle your own securing and refueling."

Ten minutes later Rayford asked Albie how long he thought he could keep up the ruse on the GC. "As long as your comrade Hassid is in the saddle at the palace. He's a remarkable young man, Rayford. I confess I had to hold my breath more than once here. They were tough, short of personnel as they are. I had to go through two checkpoints."

Rayford squinted. "They let me in without a second glance, and I hadn't even contacted the tower."

"That's because you're with me and a civilian."

"You convinced 'em, eh?"

"Totally. But I have to hand it to your friend. Not only does he have me on the international GC database with name, rank, and serial number, but he also has me assigned to this part of the United North American States. I'm here because I'm supposed to be here. I check out better than most of the legitimate GC personnel."

"David's good," Rayford said.

"The best. I blustered and acted impatient and pretended they would get in trouble if they detained me too long. But they were unmoved-until the second checkpoint ran me through the computer and reached David's database. Someday he'll have to tell me how he does that. He entered all of my information, and when my papers matched with what they saw on the screen, I was gold. Then I began barking orders, telling them to pave the way for you, that we had urgent business and must be on our way."

Rayford told Albie it would be impossible to return to the safe house until dark and that he might as well carry him back to Palwaukee so he could move the Gulfstream to Kankakee.

"Would you rather have some fun?" Albie said. "You want to see if GC has torched your old safe house yet and do it for them if not?"

"Not a bad idea," Rayford said. "If they just burned it, fine, but if they start combing it for evidence, I worry what we might have left."

"They don't have the personnel for that," Albie said, moving toward the helicopter. "Fueled up?" Rayford nodded.

"The fighter is too, ready whenever we need it." Albie slung his bag over his shoulder, dug in it for Rayford's phone, and tossed it to him.

"Three unanswered calls," Rayford muttered as they boarded the chopper. "Hope everything's all right in Chicago. When did the calls come?"

"All three about half an hour ago, one right after the other. None showed phone numbers, so I didn't think I should answer for you."

They were strapped in now, but Rayford said, "I'd better check with the safe house."

Tsion answered groggily.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Doctor," Rayford began.

"Oh, Captain Steele, it's no trouble. I only just fell asleep. Chloe's phone, it was ringing and ringing, and she was sound asleep. No one roused; they are so exhausted. I was not able to get to it in time, but when it rang again, this time I hurried and carried it to a quiet place. Rayford, it was Miss Durham!"

"You're sure?"

"Yes, and she sounded desperate. I pleaded with her to tell me where she was and reminded her that we all love her and care about her and are praying for her, but she wanted only to talk to you. She said she had tried your phone, and I told her I would try too. I tried twice to no avail. Anyway, you have her number."

"I'll call her."

"And you'll let me know."

"Tsion, get some rest. You have so much to do, setting up your computer area, teaching Chaim-"

"Oh, Rayford, I am so excited about that that I can barely contain myself. And I have so much to communicate to my audience on the computer. But you must call Miss Durham, and yes, you're right. Unless there is a compelling reason why we should know, you can tell us when you return. Frankly, I expected you by now."

"I miscalculated, Tsion. I can't return until the sky is black. But I am available by phone now."

"And you have connected with your Middle Eastern friend."

"I have."

"And is he all right, Rayford? Forgive me, but he seemed preoccupied."

"Everything's fine here, Doctor."

"He is a new believer too, correct?"

"Yes."

"And he will be staying with us?"

"That's likely."

"Then I will look forward to training him as well."

David was aghast at Medical Services. He had visited their indoor facility many times, which, despite their thinning ranks, was pristine and shipshape. What had begun as the main first-aid station, which serviced dozens of others throughout the area during the Carpathia wake, now looked like a mobile army surgical hospital.

The rest of the first-aid stations were being dismantled and leftover injured taken either to the courtyard triage center or into the indoor facility.

Row upon row of makeshift cots snaked across the courtyard. "Why aren't you moving these people inside?" David said, tugging at his stiff collar.

"Why don't you manage your area and let us manage ours," a doctor said, turning briefly from an ashen victim of the heat.

"I don't mean to criticize. It's just that-" "It's just that we're all out here now," the doctor said. "At least most of us. The majority of the treatable cases are heatstroke and dehydration, and most of the casualties are lightning victims."

"I'm looking for-"

"I'm sorry, Director, but whoever you're looking for, you're going to have to find on your own. We don't care about their names or their nationalities. We're just trying to keep them alive. We'll deal with the paperwork later."

"I had an employee stationed at-"

"I'm sorry! It's not that I don't care, but I can't help you! Understand?"

"She would have known how to avoid sun- or heatstroke."

"Good. Now, good-bye."

"She was at sector 53."

"Well, you don't want to hear about five-three," the doctor said, turning back to his patient.

"What about it?"

"Lots of lightning victims. Big bolt there."

"Where would the victims have been taken?"

The doctor was finished talking with David. He nodded to an assistant. "Tell him."

A young man in scrubs spoke with a French accent. "No specific place. Some came in here. Some were treated in that sector. Some inside."

David started on the cart but soon abandoned it to jog down the line of victims. This would be impossible. How could he tell who was who? Annie was in uniform, and while he was sure he could recognize her, with only shoes peeking out from sheets soaked to cool patients, he would have to check each face. And he would be interfering with the medical treatment.

As he trotted along in the heat, David reached in his belt for his water bottle and found it empty. His throat was parched, and he knew his thirst trailed by several minutes his real need for water. When had he last taken a swig? When had he eaten? When had he slept?

The huge screens showed Viv Ivins, Leon Fortunato, and Nicolae Carpathia moving the pilgrims along, cooing to them, blessing them, touching them. The waves of heat from the asphalt made David's uniform cling to him like a single, damp weight. He stopped and bent to catch his breath, but his throat felt swollen, his mouth unable to produce saliva, his windpipe constricted. Dizzy. Annie. Light-headed. Hot. Annie. Spinning. Thirst. Hands red.

David pitched forward, his cap sliding off and tumbling before him. His mind told him to reach for it, but his hands stayed planted above his knees. Break your fall! Break your fall! But he could not. His arms would not move. His face would take the brunt of it. No, he could tuck his chin.

The top of his head smacked the pavement, the jagged asphalt digging through his hair to his scalp. He shut his eyes in anticipation of the pain, and white streaks shot past his eyes. Hands still on his knees, his seat in the air, he slowly, slowly rolled sideways and crashed onto his hip. He opened his eyes and saw his own blood trickle past his face, quickly coagulating in a pool on the baked pavement. He tried to move, to speak. Unconsciousness pursued him, and all he could think of was that he was next in a long line of victims.

"You want me to fly while you make your call?" Albie said.

"Maybe you'd better," Rayford said. They switched places as he punched in Hattie's number. She answered in a hoarse, panicked whisper on the first sound.

"Rayford, where are you?"

"I don't want to say, Hattie. Talk to me. Where are you?"

"Colorado."

"Specifically."

"Pueblo, north end, I think."

"GC has you?"

"Yes. And they're going to send me back to Buffer." Rayford was silent. "Don't leave me hanging, Rayford. We go back too far."

"Hattie, I don't know what to say."

"What?!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come get me! I can't go back to Belgium! I'll die there."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"The right thing, Ray."

"In other words, jeopardize my life and expose the Force to-"

Click.

Rayford couldn't tell whether she hung up because he had insulted her or because she heard someone coming. He told Albie the conversation.

"What are you going to do, my friend?"

Rayford stared at Albie in the emerging light and shook his head. "That woman has caused us no end of grief." "But you care for her. You've told me before."

"I have?"

"Bits and pieces. Maybe Mac told me."

"Mac doesn't know her."

"But he knows you, and you talk, no?"

Rayford nodded. "We know they let her out of Buffer, thinking she-"

"Buffer?"

"Belgium Facility for Female Rehabilitation."

"Ah, I'd better remember that."

"Anyway, we know they were hoping she would lead them to us at the gala in Jerusalem, but she-"

"Excuse me, Rayford, but do you want me to set a course over the old safe house or just head directly for Palwaukee?"

"Depends on whether I decide to go to Colorado." "Your choice, but if I may say so, I expected you to be more decisive. I am just playacting, yet I appear more of a leader than you are. Your people admire and respect you-it's obvious." "They shouldn't. I-"

"You've reconciled with them, Rayford. They forgave you. Now become their leader again. What are you going to do about this Hattie Durham? Decide. Tell me, tell the people in the Strong Building, and do it." "I don't know, Albie."

"You'll never know. Just weigh your options, consider the pros and cons, and pull the trigger. Either way, the old safe house is fewer than ten minutes out of the way. Start with a small decision."

"Let's have a look at it."

"Good for you, Rayford."

"Don't patronize me, Albie. We're in a GC chopper. We won't look suspicious anyway."

"But you've made a decision. Now think aloud about the more important one. Are we going to Colorado?"

"I was saying, rather than lead the GC to us, she went straight there. Her family is gone, but maybe she thought she could hook up with friends in Colorado. Who knows? I couldn't even tell you whether her confounding the GC was a stroke of genius or dumb luck, but I'd lean toward the latter."

"So she may be leading you to them rather than the other way round."

Rayford turned away from Albie and looked out the window, praying silently. It hadn't been that many years since his lust for Hattie Durham had almost cost him his marriage. He took the blame for that, but since then she had been nothing but trouble. He and the others in the Tribulation Force had loved her and counseled her, provided for her, pled with her to receive Christ. But she would not be persuaded, and she pulled dangerous stunts that compromised the safety of the Force. For all he knew, she was the reason the GC had finally discovered the safe house.

Rayford's phone chirped. "Hattie?"

"I heard footsteps. They've got me in a small room in a bunker about an hour south of Colorado Springs."

"I'm a long way from there." "Oh, thank you, Rayford. I knew I could count-" "I haven't decided what I'm going to do, Hattie." "Of course you have. You won't leave me here to be sent back to prison or worse. What do I have to do, promise to become a believer?" "Not unless you mean it." "Well, if you don't come for me, you can kiss that idea good-bye."

Rayford slapped his phone shut and sighed. "What an idiot!"

"Her?" Albie said. "Or you for considering what you're considering?"

"Her! This is such a transparent attempt by the GC to lure one of us out there. Once they get me, they hold me ransom for information on the rest of the Force. Who they really want, of course, is Tsion. The rest of us are irritants. He's the enemy."

"So your choice is between this Miss Durham and Tsion Ben-Judah? You want my vote?"

"It's not that easy. We want her for the kingdom, Albie. I mean, we all really do."

"And you think if you abandon her now, she'll never believe."

"She said as much."

"This may sound cold, and I admit I'm new to this, but it's her choice, isn't it? You're not making the decision for her."

"Going out there would be the dumbest thing I've ever done. They've caught her, detained her, threatened totake her back to prison, and yet they leave her with her phone. I mean, come on."

Albie scanned the horizon. "Then your decision is easy."

"I wish."

"It is. Either you don't go, or you consider all your resources."

"What does that mean?"

"There's one it seems you've forgotten. Maybe two."

"I'll bite."

"Assign David Hassid to find out exactly where they have her and have him send through an order from a bogus commander to keep her there until further notice. You call her back and tell her you're not coming. Make her and whoever is listening in believe it. You just show up, surprise attack, just when both she and the GC think you have abandoned her."

Rayford pursed his lips. "Maybe you ought to be in charge of the Trib Force. But surprising them doesn't guarantee success. I'll still likely be killed or detained myself."

"But you've forgotten another resource."

"I'm still listening."

"Sir? Director? Are you all right?" "He's out."

"His eyes are open, Doctor." "He fell on his head, Medicine Woman." "I've asked you not to call me th-" "Sorry. I don't know how you handled fallen braves on the reservation, but this one couldn't even break his fall. He couldn't shut his eyes if he wanted to."

"Help me get him onto – "

"There you go again, sweetie. I'm not an orderly."

"And there you go again, Doctor! We can let him lie here and bleed to death, or I can remind you that our patients way outnumber the help."

David's tongue was swollen, and he could not maneuver it to form the word. All he wanted was water, but he knew his head required attention too.

"Spray!" the dark nurse called out, and someone tossed her a bottle. She sprayed three bursts of lukewarm water directly into David's face, and he couldn't even blink. Compared to the heat of the asphalt, which he estimated at 120 degrees, the water felt icy. A few drops reached his mouth and he panted, trying to drink them in.

The doctor and nurse gently rolled him to his back, and in his mind he was squinting against the harsh sun. Yet he knew his eyes were wide open and burning. He wanted to plead for another spray, but he felt paralyzed. The nurse mercifully laid his cap over his face, and when feeling returned, he tried not to move so as to keep the cap in place.

If he could find his voice he would plead for Annie, but he was helpless. She was probably somewhere looking for him.

When David was lifted to a canvas cot, the hat slipped off his face, but he was able to blink and was soon under the shade of a crowded tent. He had been assigned the last sliver of shadow. "Critical?" someone asked.

"No," the doctor said. "But sew that head up soon."

The first syringe that plunged into his scalp made his whole body jerk and shudder, but still he could not call out. In seconds the top of his head was numb. "You can do this?" the doctor said.

The nurse said, "It's not exactly cosmetic, is it?"

"Give him threads like a football-I don't care. He can always wear a hat."

In truth, David didn't care what his head looked like, and it was a good thing, because the nurse quickly shaved an inch on each side of the laceration, splashed more liquid on him, and began opening a huge needle.

"How bah?" David managed, his tongue lolling.

"You'll live," she said. "Strictly superficial. Tough skull. But you really yanked the flesh away from the bone. Five inches at least, laterally at the top."

"Watah?"

"Sorry."

"Little?"

She quickly removed the top of the spray bottle, which had an inch of water left in it. "Open up."

Most of it ran down David's neck, but it loosened his tongue. "Looking for Chief Christopher," he said.

"Don't know him," she said. "Now hold still."

"Her. Annie Christopher."

"Director, I've got about five minutes for you, and if you're lucky, I'll find an IV to re-hydrate you. But while I'm sewing, you're going to have to shut up and hold still if you don't want to look worse."

"Do you see what I see?" Albie squinted into the distance.

Rayford followed his gaze and was surprised by a gush of emotion. A black tower of smoke billowed several hundred feet in the air. "You think?" he said.

Albie nodded. "Gotta be."

"Get as close as you can," Rayford said. "That was my home for a long time."

"Will do. Now, you going to use every resource available? Or did I waste my money on this uniform and all the credentials?"