Free Armageddon: The Cosmic Battle Of The Ages by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Page A

and I’m looking forward to seeing those people again and meet-ing some new ones. My prediction is that Chloe will be there waiting for us.”
    “I was with you right up until that last,” Rayford said. “I’ve got a bad, bad feeling about this. If Buck and George don’t find her soon, or if they find out the GC has her, we’ve got to get those people out of there.”
    “And take them where?”
    “Petra is the only place I know anymore.”
    “Chloe ain’t gonna give the GC a thing. Unless they saw her coming out of the underground, what’ve they got?”
    “She had to be in the area. Unless she can convince them she came from somewhere else, she sure gives them a place to start looking.”
    Rayford buried his head in his hands and tried to sleep. No dice. All he could do was pray. Chloe had been Daddy’s girl from day one. She loved school, was inquisitive, single-minded, stubborn. She was the last person in the family to come to Christ, and Rayford had no illusions that he was responsible for that. He had taught her to believe only in what she could see and smell and touch.
    Chloe always wanted to be in the middle of the action, and if someone wouldn’t put her there, she’d put herself there. He wanted to resent her for it, especially now, but he was overwhelmed with worry and fear. All he wanted was to know she was safe and back with Buck and Kenny. He knew that no matter what happened, they would be reunited someday, and that it would be less than a year from now. But somehow that wasn’t as com-forting as he thought it might be.
    They were destined to be with Christ when they died, and should they survive, they would be with him on earth for a thousand years. But the prospect of dying was still a fearful thing. It was likely that any of the Tribulation Force who died during the next year would be martyrs to the cause of Christ, but their loved ones would still mourn them, still miss them. Worst of all, Rayford realized, he didn’t want to think about how his loved ones might die.
    The suffering might be short-lived, but no one wants to think of his beloved going through anything terrifying or torturous or agonizing. “Father,” Rayford said, “let this be a mission of relocation at worst. I have no reason more valid than anyone else to deserve special treatment, to have my daughter supernaturally protected. You don’t need her; you don’t need any of us. But we have pledged ourselves to you and trust you know what you’re doing.”
    Jock turned out to be a tall, heavy man with a uniform that may once have fit him but now encased him like a sausage. He had his underlings bring Chloe from a small cell to a slightly larger room. He pointed to a chair and she sat directly across from him at a metal table.
    Jock dropped an accordion file on the table and took off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. He sat wearily and let out a loud sigh. “So, Phoebe Evangelista. Where’d you come up with that one?”
    Chloe stared at him. She detected an Australian accent and noticed the number
18
on his forehead. On the back of his right hand was a tattoo of Nicolae Carpathia’s face.
    “Mind if I smoke?”
    Chloe raised her eyebrows and nodded.
    “Well, what do I care whether you mind or not? I’ve got a lot of work to do today, young lady, and you’re keeping me from it.”
    “Go do it,” Chloe said.
    “So, she talks,” Jock said, pulling a small cigar from his pocket. “I thought you were going to be one of those name-rank-and-serial-number types, minus the last two. Well, you are my work, and you’ve been a bad girl. You’ve been lying to my people, haven’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “You want to fess up, or you want me to tell you what we found?”
    Chloe shrugged.
    “We’re not getting a thing out of you, are we?”
    “No.”
    “Took a while, but we got it. Besides being short of people, our systems are crashing, and-”
    “You’re breaking my heart.”
    Jock reached for his file.