The Remnant Read online

  Table of Contents

  Tyndale House Novels by Jerry B. Jenkins

  FORTY-THREE MONTHS INTO THE TRIBULATION; ONE MONTH INTO THE GREAT TRIBULATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  TEST YOUR PROPHECY IQ

  THE TRUTH BEHIND THE FICTION

  TEST YOUR PROPEHCY IQ—ANSWER

  Tyndale House Novels by Jerry B. Jenkins

  Riven

  Midnight Clear (with Dallas Jenkins)

  Soon

  Silenced

  Shadowed

  The Last Operative

  The Brotherhood

  The Left Behind® series (with Tim LaHaye)

  Left Behind®

  Tribulation Force

  Nicolae

  Soul Harvest

  Apollyon

  Assassins

  The Indwelling

  The Mark

  Desecration

  The Remnant

  Armageddon

  Glorious Appearing

  Kingdom Come

  The Rising

  The Regime

  The Rapture

  Left Behind Collectors Edition

  Rapture’s Witness (books 1–3)

  Deceiver’s Game (books 4–6)

  Evil’s Edge (books 7–9)

  World’s End (books 10–12)

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  TYNDALE, Tyndale’s quill logo, and Left Behind are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  The Remnant: On the Brink of Armageddon

  Copyright © 2002 by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved.

  Cover photograph copyright © by Image Source/Photolibrary. All rights reserved.

  Author photo of Jerry B. Jenkins copyright © 2010 by Jim Whitmer Photography. All rights reserved.

  Author photo of Tim LaHaye copyright © 2004 by Brian MacDonald. All rights reserved.

  Left Behind series designed by Erik M. Peterson

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc.,

  7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  www.alivecommunications.com.

  Scripture quotation used for epigraph is taken from The Living Bible, copyright © 1971 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotation used for epilogue is taken from the New King James Version.® The message from Tsion Ben-Judah to the remnant at Petra in chapter 1 is adapted from Daniel 3:26 and Isaiah 48:10-21, New King James Version.® Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Characters in this novel sometimes speak words that are adapted from various versions of the Bible, including the King James Version and the New King James Version.®

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  LaHaye, Tim F.

  The remnant : on the brink of Armageddon / Tim LaHaye, Jerry B. Jenkins.

  p. cm — (Left behind series)

  ISBN 0-8423-3227-8 (hardcover)

  ISBN 0-8423-3230-8 (softcover)

  1. Steele, Rayford (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Rapture (Christian eschatology)—Fiction. 3. Armageddon—Fiction. I. Jenkins, Jerry B. II. Title

  PS3562.A315 R46 2002

  813′.54—dc21 2002001623

  Repackage first published in 2011 under ISBN 978-1-4143-3499-8.

  To the memory of Dr. Harry A. Ironside

  Special thanks to David Allen for expert technical consultation

  FORTY-THREE MONTHS INTO THE TRIBULATION; ONE MONTH INTO THE GREAT TRIBULATION

  The Believers

  Rayford Steele, midforties; former 747 captain for Pan-Continental; lost wife and son in the Rapture; former pilot for Global Community Potentate Nicolae Carpathia; original member of the Tribulation Force; international fugitive; undercover in Petra, disguised as an Egyptian

  Cameron (“Buck”) Williams, early thirties; former senior writer for Global Weekly; former publisher of Global Community Weekly for Carpathia; original member of the Trib Force; editor of cybermagazine The Truth; alias as GC officer Jack Jensen has been compromised; fugitive in exile, Strong Building, Chicago

  Chloe Steele Williams, early twenties; former student, Stanford University; lost mother and brother in the Rapture; daughter of Rayford; wife of Buck; mother of fifteen-month-old Kenny Bruce; CEO of International Commodity Co-op, an underground network of believers; original Trib Force member; on undercover assignment in Greece, disguised as Global Community Peacekeeping senior officer

  Tsion Ben-Judah, late forties; former rabbinical scholar and Israeli statesman; revealed belief in Jesus as the Messiah on international TV—wife and two teenagers subsequently murdered; escaped to U.S.; spiritual leader and teacher of the Trib Force; cyberaudience of more than a billion daily; visiting the Jewish remnant at Petra

  Dr. Chaim Rosenzweig, late sixties; Nobel Prize–winning Israeli botanist and statesman; former Global Weekly Newsmaker of the Year; murderer of Carpathia; disguised as Micah, leading the Jewish remnant at Petra

  Leah Rose, late thirties; former head nurse, Arthur Young Memorial Hospital, Palatine, Illinois; Strong Building, Chicago

  Al B. (aka “Albie”), late forties; native of Al Basrah, north of Kuwait; pilot; former international black marketer; alias as GC Deputy Commander Marcus Elbaz has been compromised; Strong Building, Chicago

  Mac McCullum, late fifties; pilot for Carpathia; presumed dead in plane crash; on assignment in Greece, disguised as a senior GC officer

  Abdullah Smith, early thirties; former Jordanian fighter pilot; first officer, Phoenix 216; presumed dead in plane crash; on assignment at Petra, disguised as an Egyptian

  Hannah Palemoon, late twenties; GC nurse; presumed dead in plane crash; on assignment in Greece, disguised as a New Delhian GC officer

  Ming Toy, early twenties; widow; former guard at the Belgium Facility for Female Rehabilitation (Buffer); AWOL from the GC; Strong Building, Chicago

  Chang Wong, seventeen; Ming Toy’s brother; Trib Force’s mole at Global Community Headquarters, New Babylon

  Gustaf Zuckermandel Jr. (aka “Zeke” or “Z”), early twenties; document and appearance forger; lost father to guillotine; Strong Building, Chicago

  Enoch Dumas, late twenties; Spanish-American shepherd of thirty-one members of The Place ministry in Chicago; recently relocated to the Strong Building

  Steve Plank (aka Pinkerton Stephens), fiftyish; former editor of Global Weekly; former public relations director for Carpathia; assumed dead in wrath of the Lamb earthquake; undercover with GC Peacekeeping forces, Colorado

  Georgiana Stavros, sixteen; escaped loyalty mark center in Ptolemaïs, Greece, with Albie’s and Buck’s help; captured by GC; whereabouts and well-being unknown

  George Sebas
tian, midtwenties; former San Diego–based U.S. Air Force combat helicopter pilot; captured by GC while on Trib Force assignment; held northeast of Ptolemaïs, Greece

  The Enemies

  Nicolae Jetty Carpathia, midthirties; former president of Romania; former secretary-general, United Nations; self-appointed Global Community potentate; assassinated in Jerusalem; resurrected at GC Palace complex, New Babylon

  Leon Fortunato, early fifties; former supreme commander and Carpathia’s right hand; now Most High Reverend Father of Carpathianism, proclaiming the potentate as the risen god; GC Palace, New Babylon

  Viv Ivins, midsixties; lifelong friend of Carpathia; GC operative; GC Palace, New Babylon

  Suhail Akbar, early forties; Carpathia’s chief of Security and Intelligence; GC Palace, New Babylon

  PROLOGUE

  From Desecration

  Had Rayford not been petrified, he might have enjoyed that Tsion looked the same in the Jordan sun as he did around the Strong Building. It was Abdullah and Rayford who looked like Middle Easterners in their robes. Tsion looked more like a rumpled professor.

  “Who is your pilot?” a GC guard asked.

  Tsion nodded to Abdullah, and they were led to a chopper. Once in the air, Rayford called Chloe [in Greece]. “Where are you?” he said.

  “We’re on the road, Dad, but something’s not right. Mac had to hot-wire this vehicle.”

  “Chang didn’t tell the guy to leave the keys?”

  “Apparently not. And of course you know Mac. He’s going to hop out and thumb a ride with some other GC while we drive merrily into town, trying to pass ourselves off as assignees from New Babylon to check on the Judah-ite raids.”

  “You ready?”

  “Am I ready? Why didn’t you make me stay in Chicago with my family? What kind of a father are you?”

  He knew she was kidding, but he couldn’t muster a chuckle. “Don’t make me wish I had.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. We’re not coming out of here without Sebastian.”

  When Abdullah came within sight of Petra, Chaim was in the high place with a quarter million people inside and another three-quarter million round about the place, waving to the helicopter. A large flat spot had been prepared, but the people covered their faces when the craft kicked up a cloud of dust. The shutting down of the engine and the dissipating of the dust were met with applause and a cheer as Tsion stepped out and waved shyly.

  Chaim announced, “Dr. Tsion Ben-Judah, our teacher and mentor and man of God!”

  Rayford and Abdullah climbed down unnoticed and sat on a nearby ledge. Tsion quieted the crowd and began: “My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, our Messiah and Savior and Lord. Allow me to first fulfill a promise made to friends and scatter here the ashes of a martyr for the faith.”

  He pulled from his pocket the tiny urn and removed the lid, shaking the contents into the wind. “She defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by her testimony, for she did not love her life but laid it down for him.”

  Abdullah nudged Rayford and looked up. In the distance came a screaming pair of fighter-bombers. Within seconds the people noticed them too and began to murmur.

  In New Babylon Chang hunched over his computer, watching what Carpathia saw transmitted from the cockpit of one of the bombers. Chang layered the audio from the plane with the bug in Carpathia’s office. It became clear that Leon, Viv, Suhail, and Carpathia’s secretary had gathered around the monitor in the potentate’s office.

  “Target locked, armed,” one pilot said. The other repeated him.

  “Here we go!” Nicolae said, his voice high-pitched. “Here we go!”

  Tsion held out his hands. “Do not be distracted, beloved, for we rest in the sure promises of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that we have been delivered to this place of refuge that cannot be penetrated by the enemy of his Son.” He had to wait out the roar of the jets as they passed over them and banked in the distance.

  “Yes!” Nicolae squealed. “Show yourselves; then launch upon your return!”

  As the machines of war returned, Tsion said, “Please join me on your knees, heads bowed, hearts in tune with God, secure in his promise that the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and all dominions shall serve and obey him.”

  Rayford knelt but kept his eyes on the bombers. As they screamed into range again, they simultaneously dropped payloads headed directly for the high place, epicenter of a million kneeling souls.

  “Yessss!” Carpathia howled. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Rejoice, O Heavens! You citizens of heaven, rejoice! Be glad! But woe to you people of the world, for the devil has come down to you in great anger, knowing that he has little time.

  Revelation 12:12, TLB

  CHAPTER 1

  Rayford Steele had endured enough brushes with death to know that the cliché was more than true: Not only did your life flash before your mind’s eye, but your senses were also on high alert. As he knelt awkwardly on the unforgiving red rock of the city of Petra in ancient Edom, he was aware of everything, remembered everything, thought of everything and everybody.

  Despite the screaming Global Community fighter-bombers—larger than any he had ever seen or even read about—he heard his own concussing heart and wheezing lungs. New to the robe and sandals of an Egyptian, he tottered on sore knees and toes. Rayford could not bow his head, could not tear his eyes from the sky and the pair of warheads that seemed to grow larger as they fell.

  Beside him his dear compatriot, Abdullah Smith, prostrated himself, burying his head in his hands. To Rayford, Smitty represented everyone he was responsible for—the entire Tribulation Force around the world. Some were in Chicago, some in Greece, some with him in Petra. One was in New Babylon. And as the Jordanian groaned and leaned into him, Rayford felt Abdullah shuddering.

  Rayford was scared too. He wouldn’t have denied it. Where was the faith that should have come from seeing God, so many times, deliver him from death? It wasn’t that he doubted God. But something deep within—his survival instinct, he assumed—told him he was about to die.

  For most people, doubt was long gone by now . . . there were few skeptics anymore. If someone were not a Christ follower by now, probably he had chosen to oppose God.

  Rayford had no fear of death itself or of the afterlife. Providing heaven for his people was a small feat for the God who now manifested himself miraculously every day. It was the dying part Rayford dreaded. For while his God had protected him up to now and promised eternal life when death came, he had not spared Rayford injury and pain. What would it be like to fall victim to the warheads?

  Quick, that was sure. Rayford knew enough about Nicolae Carpathia to know the man would not cut corners now. While one bomb could easily destroy the million people who—all but Rayford, it seemed—tucked their heads as close to between their legs as they were able, two bombs would vaporize them. Would the flashes blind him? Would he hear the explosions? feel the heat? be aware of his body disintegrating into bits?

  Whatever happened, Carpathia would turn it into political capital. He might not televise the million unarmed souls, showing their backsides to the Global Community as the bombs hurtled in. But he would show the impact, the blasts, the fire, the smoke, the desolation. He would illustrate the futility of opposing the new world order.

  Rayford’s mind argued against his instincts. Dr. Ben-Judah believed they were safe, that this was a city of refuge, the place God had promised. And yet Rayford had lost a man here just days before. On the other hand, the ground attack by the GC had been miraculously thwarted at the last instant. Why couldn’t Rayford rest in that, trust, believe, have confidence?

  Because he knew warheads. And as these dropped, parachutes puffed from each, slowing them and allowing them to drop simultaneously straight down toward the assembled masses. Rayford’s heart sank when he saw the bla
ck pole attached to the nose of each bomb. The GC had left nothing to chance. Just over four feet long, as soon as those standoff probes touched the ground they would trip the fuses, causing the bombs to explode above the surface.

  Chloe Steele Williams was impressed with Hannah’s driving. Unfamiliar vehicle, unfamiliar country—yet the Native American, who had been uncannily morphed into a New Delhi Indian, handled the appropriated GC Jeep as if it were her own. She was smoother and more self-confident than Mac McCullum had been, but of course he had spent the entire drive across the Greek countryside talking.

  “I know this is all new to you gals,” he had said, causing Chloe to catch Hannah’s eye and wink. If anybody could get away with unconscious chauvinism, it was the weathered pilot and former military man, who referred to all the women in the Trib Force as “little ladies” but did not seem consciously condescending.

  “I got to get to the airport,” he told them, “which is thataway, and y’all have got to get into Ptolemaïs and find the Co-op.” He pulled over and hopped out. “Whicha you two is drivin’ again?”

  Hannah climbed behind the wheel from the backseat, her starched white GC officer’s uniform still crisp.

  Mac shook his head. “You two look like a coupla Wacs, but ’course they don’t call ’em that anymore.” He looked up and down the road, and Chloe felt compelled to do the same. It was noon, the sun high and hot and directly overhead, no clouds. She saw no other vehicles and heard none. “Don’t worry about me,” Mac added. “Somebody’ll be along and I’ll catch a ride.”

  He lifted a canvas bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder. Mac also carried a briefcase. Gustaf Zuckermandel Jr., whom they all knew as Zeke or Z, had thought of everything. The lumbering young man in Chicago had made himself into the best forger and disguiser in the world, and Chloe decided that the three of them alone were the epitomes of his handiwork. It was so strange to see Mac with no freckles or red hair. His face was dark now, his hair brown, and he wore glasses he didn’t need. She only hoped Z’s work with her dad and the others at Petra proved as effective.