The Rapture Series
Why Do you Believe? What Do you Believe? How Do You Believe? Who Do You Believe?
“Reason to Believe”
Natszal: "Left" (3:1)
“LEFT”
THE EARTH'S LAST DAYS
TIM LAHAYE & JERRY B. JENKINS
Rayford, Christopher, and Hattie were the last three off the 747. Before disembarking, they had made sure all able bodied people got down the chutes and that the elderly and infirm were transported by bus. The bus driver insisted that the crew ride with him and the last passengers, but Rayford refused. “I can't see passing my own passengers as they walk to the terminal,” he said. “How would that look?”
Christopher said, “Suit yourself, Cap. You mind if I take him up on his offer?” Rayford glared at him. “You're serious?” “I don't get paid enough for this.” “Like this was the airline's fault. Chris, you don't mean it.” “The heck I don't. By the time you get up there, you'll wish you'd ridden, too.” “I should write you up for this.” “Millions of people disappear into thin air and I should worry about getting written
up for riding instead of walking? Later, Steele.”
Rayford shook his head and turned to Hattie. “Maybe I'll see you up there. If you can get out of the terminal, don't wait for me.” “Are you kidding? If you're walking, I'm walking.” “You don't need to do that.” “After that dressing-down you just gave Smith? I'm walking.” “He's first officer. We ought to be last off the ship and first to volunteer for
emergency duty.” “Well, do me a favor and consider me part of your crew, too. Just because I can't fly
the thing doesn't mean I don't feel some ownership. And don't treat me like a little woman.” “I would never do that. Got your stuff?” Hattie pulled her bag on wheels and Rayford carried his navigator's leather box. It
was a long walk, and several times they waved off offers of rides from units speeding out to pick up the non-ambulatory. Along the way they passed other passengers from their flight. Many thanked Rayford; he wasn't sure for what. For not panicking, he guessed. But they looked as terrified and shell-shocked as he felt.
They shielded their ears from flights screaming in to land. Rayford tried to calculate how long it would be before this runway was shut down, too. He couldn't imagine the other open strip holding many more planes, either. Would some have to try to put down on highways or open fields? And how far away from the big cities would they have to look for open stretches of highway unencumbered by bridges? He shuddered at the thought.
All around were ambulances and other emergency vehicles trying to get to ugly
wreckage scenes. Finally in the terminal, Rayford found crowds standing in lines behind banks of phones. Most had angry people waiting, yelling at callers who shrugged and redialed. Airport snack bars and restaurants were already sold out of or low on food,
and all newspapers and magazines were gone. In shops where staffers had disappeared, looters walked off with merchandise. Rayford wanted more than anything to sit and talk with someone about what to
make of this. But everybody he saw—friend, acquaintance, or stranger—was busy trying to make arrangements. O'Hare was like a massive prison with resources dwindling and gridlock growing. No one slept. Everyone scurried about, trying to find some link to the outside world, to contact their families, and to get out of the airport.
At the flight center in the bowels of the place, Rayford found much the same thing. Hattie said she would try making her calls from the lounge and would meet him later to see if they could share a ride to the suburbs. He knew they were unlikely to find any rides going anywhere, and he didn't relish walking twenty miles. But all hotels in the area were already full.
Finally a supervisor asked for the attention of the fliers in the underground center. “We have some secure lines, about five,” he said. “Whether you can get through, we don't know, but it's your best chance. They do bypass the normal trunk lines out of here, so you won't be competing with all the pay phones in the terminal. Streamline your calls. Also, there are a limited number of helicopter rides available to suburban hospitals and police departments, but naturally you're secondary to medical emergencies. Get in line over here for phones and rides to the suburbs. As of right now we have no word of the cancellation of any flights except for the remainder of today. It's your responsibility to be back here for your next flight or to call in and find out its status.”
Rayford got in line, beginning to feel the tension of having flown too long and known too little. Worse was the knowledge that he had a better idea than most of what had happened. If he was right, if it were true, he would not be getting an answer when he dialed home. As he stood there, a TV monitor above him broadcast images of the chaos. From around the globe came wailing mothers, stoic families, reports of death and destruction. Dozens of stories included eyewitnesses who had seen loved ones and friends disappear before their eyes.
Most shocking to Rayford was a woman in labor, about to go into the delivery room, who was suddenly barren. Doctors delivered the placenta. Her husband had caught the disappearance of the fetus on tape. As he videotaped her great belly and sweaty face, he asked questions. How did she feel? “How do you think I feel, Earl? Turn that thing off.” What was she hoping for? “That you'll get close enough for me to slug you.” Did she realize that in a few moments they'd be parents? “In about a minute, you're going to be divorced.”
Then came the scream and the dropping of the camera, terrified voices, running nurses, and the doctor. CNN reran the footage in super slow motion, showing the woman going from very pregnant to nearly flat stomached, as if she had instantaneously delivered. “Now, watch with us again,” the newsman intoned, “and keep your eyes on the left edge of your screen, where a nurse appears to be reading a printout from the fetal heart monitor. There, see?” The action stopped as the pregnant woman's stomach deflated. “The nurse's uniform seems to still be standing as if an invisible person is wearing it. She's gone. Half a second later, watch.” The tape moved ahead and stopped. “The uniform, stockings and all, are in a pile atop her shoes.”
Local television stations from around the world reported bizarre occurrences, especially in time zones where the event had happened during the day or early evening. CNN showed via satellite the video of a groom disappearing while slipping the ring onto his bride's finger. A funeral home in Australia reported that nearly every mourner disappeared from one memorial service, including the corpse, while at another service at the same time, only a few disappeared and the corpse remained. Morgues also reported corpse disappearances. At a burial, three of six pallbearers stumbled and dropped a casket when the other three disappeared. When they picked up the casket, it too was empty.
(blogger)
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