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 was second in line for the phone, but what he saw next on the screen convinced him he would never see his wife again. At a Christian high school soccer game at a missionary headquarters in Indonesia, most of the spectators and all but one of the players disappeared in the middle of play, leaving their shoes and uniforms on the ground. The CNN reporter announced that, in his remorse, the surviving player took his own life.
But it was more than remorse, Rayford knew. Of all people, that player, a student at a Christian school, would have known the truth immediately. The Rapture had taken place. Jesus Christ had returned for his people, and that boy was not one of them. When Rayford sat at the phone, tears streamed down his face. Someone said, “You have four minutes,” and he knew that would be more than he needed. His answering machine at home picked up immediately, and he was pierced to hear the cheerful voice of his wife. “Your call is important to us.” she said. “Please leave a message after the beep.”
Rayford punched a few buttons to check for messages. He ran through three or four mundane ones, then was startled to hear Chloe's voice. “Mom? Dad? Are you there? Have you seen what's going on? Call me as soon as you can. We've lost at least ten students and two profs, and all the married students' kids disappeared. Is Raymie all right? Call me!” Well, at least he knew Chloe was still around. All he wanted was to hold her.
Rayford redialed and left a message on his own machine. “Irene? Ray? If you're there, pick up. If you get this message, I'm at O'Hare and trying to get home. It may take a while if I don't get a copter ride. I sure hope you're there.”
“Let's go, Cap,” someone said. “Everybody's got a call to make.”
Rayford nodded and quickly dialed his daughter's dorm room at Stanford. He got the irritating message that his call could not be completed as dialed. Rayford gathered his belongings and checked his mail slot. Besides a pile of the
usual junk, he found a padded manila envelope from his home address. Irene had taken to mailing him little surprises lately, the result of a marriage book she had been urging him to read. He slipped the envelope into his case and went looking for Hattie Durham. Funny, he had no emotional attraction whatever to Hattie just now. But he felt obligated to be sure she got home.
As he stood in a crowd by the elevator, he heard the announcement that a helicopter was available for no more than eight pilots and would make a run to Mount Prospect, Arlington Heights, and Des Plaines. Rayford hurried to the pad. “Got room for one to Mount Prospect?”
“How about another to Des Plaines?” “Maybe, if he gets here in about two minutes.” “It's not a he. She's a flight attendant.” “Pilots only. Sorry.” “What if you have room?” “Well, maybe, but I don't see her.” “I'll have her paged.” “They're not paging anyone.” “Give me a second. Don't leave without me.” The chopper pilot looked at his watch. “Three minutes,” he said. “I'm leavin' at
one.” Rayford left his bag on the ground, hoping it would hold the helicopter pilot in case he was a little late. He charged up the stairs and into the corridor. Finding Hattie
would be impossible. He grabbed a courtesy phone. “I'm sorry, we're unable to page anyone just now.” “This is an emergency and I am a Pan-Continental captain.” “What is it?” “Have Hattie Durham meet her party at K-17.” “I'll try.” “Do it!” Rayford stood on tiptoe to see Hattie coming, yet still somehow she surprised him.
“I was fourth in line for the phone in the lounge,” she said, appearing at his side. “Got a better deal?”
“Got us a helicopter ride if we hurry,” he said. As they skipped down the stairs she said, “Wasn't it awful about Chris?” “What about him?” “You really don't know?” Rayford wanted to stop and tell her to quit making so much work so hard. That
frustrated him about people her age. They enjoyed a volleying conversation game. He liked to get to the point. “Just tell me!” he said, sounding more exasperated than he intended.
As they burst through the door and onto the tarmac, the chopper blades whipped their hair and deafened them. Rayford's bag had already been put on board, and only one seat remained. The pilot pointed at Hattie and shook his head. Rayford grabbed her elbow and pulled her aboard as he climbed in. “Only way she's not coming is if you can't handle the weight!”
“What do you weigh, doll?” the pilot said. “One-fifteen!” “I can handle the weight!” he told Rayford. “But if she's not buckled in, I'm not
responsible!” “Let's go!” Rayford shouted. He buckled himself in and Hattie sat in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her
waist and clasped his wrists together. He thought how ironic it was that he had been dreaming of this for weeks, and now there was no joy, no excitement in it, nothing sensual whatever. He was miserable. Glad to be able to help her out, but miserable.
(blogger)
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