Sable,” the reporter asked, “we’ve been trying to get an interview with you for a long time about your support for Pastor Bob here. What made you agree to it now?”
In his inelegant suit, Sable looked utterly out of place in the restaurant. Nothing fit him quite right. His clothes were expensive, but the shapeless body couldn’t fill them. He had never finished high school, a Marine at eighteen, a software billionaire at forty, never quite sure what other people were about. Two wives were unaccountably gone; his children errant and immersed somewhere in Las Vegas, addicted to this and that. But his mother had raised him on the Bible; it was the one thing he counted on. And now, he was hopeful, the long confusion of his life was over.
“Because people need to be warned. My board wanted me to stay away from you—you’ll understand why—but there’re only a few days left, and I’ve got a burden for all these people.” He gestured around the room.
The reporter took stock of the other guests, mostly women branded with the Neiman-Marcus logo and murmuring over champagne and salads of tiny, expensive greens. She turned back to Sable.
“You’re quite convinced, then.”
“Oh, yes, the winding-up scene is only hours away now.” The reporter was an attractive woman. Sable cursed his sweating habit; he felt his scalp dripping and dabbed it with his napkin. “So I said, to heck with the board, you media folks can help us get the word out before it’s too damn late.”
“Maybe you can help me understand why you feel this way.”
“That’s why I asked Pastor Bob to join us,” Sable said anxiously. “He’s got it all figured out. He can explain it a lot better than I can.”
The pastor crossed her hand with his. “First of all, Olive, are you saved? Are you a Christian?”
“I’m Jewish.”
Pastor Bob grinned at Sable. “We got work to do with this young lady, Lam.”
The reporter explained. “The News sent me because they think I can take a more objective approach to this story. Maybe you could start from the beginning, just for me.”
“From the beginning?” Pastor Bob glanced up at the pink cherubs overhead and appeared to say a little prayer. “Okay. Here goes. The Bible says that before the end of time, ‘the Lord himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.’ We call this the Rapture of the Church.”
“So all the Christians will, what, fly away? Rise up into the sky?”
“Something like that. All we know is that one moment you’ll see us, and the next we’ll be gone.”
“Leaving people like me—Jews, non-Christians, nonbelievers—behind?”
“That’s right. What follows will be seven years of tribulation. The devil will rule the earth, and God will pour out his wrath until he makes an end of all wickedness. At that point he’ll establish his kingdom finally and forever.”
“But how do you know this Rapture will take place on Monday?”
Pastor Bob put his palms together as if in prayer. “Simple mathematics. The Jews measured time in jubilees—periods of fifty years. The earth will only last six thousand years, or 120 jubilees. According to the ancient rabbis, the 120th jubilee will mark the final deliverance from all sin; now, Monday is the Jewish day of atonement and also the end of the 120th jubilee.”
“But the earth is billions of years old. Where do you get this notion of six thousand years?”
“My dear, the Bible says the earth is only six thousand years old, and that’s good enough for me. Just add up the genealogies in the Bible—it’s as simple as that. Now the Lord doesn’t want his saints to suffer through the seven years of tribulation, so up we go. Mr. Lambert Sable here and I are flying all the folks who want to go to Jerusalem to meet the Lord personally on Monday.”
“So, what becomes of the people who are left behind?”
Pastor Bob stopped smiling and put both hands flat on the table as if he were going to push himself up. “Bible prophecies couldn’t be clearer about that, ma’am—Daniel, Joel, Zechariah, Malachi, John the Revelator. And you need to hear it because it involves you and your people. After the Christians are gone, the Jews will come together at last and build the Third Temple right where the Dome of the Rock is in Jerusalem.
“This will infuriate the Muslims, who surround Israel on all four sides. The demolition of that Dome and the rebuilding of the Temple will ignite the greatest war the world has ever seen. Millions of Muslims will converge on Jerusalem, slaughtering every Jew they can find until the city is nothing but a cup of Jewish blood. It’ll make the Holocaust pale by comparison.
“Only then, when his own crucifixion at the hands of the Jews is avenged, will Jesus Christ make his final appearance in glory.”
After a difficult silence, the reporter turned to Sable. “So…you’re buying this? And you’ve actually willed all of your property to…um…”
“I call it the Left-Behind Foundation,” Sable answered. “It’s to fund the evangelizing of all the people left in the world after the Rapture.”
“So there is some hope for us?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Many people will be saved during the Tribulation; I want my assets to go into helping them.” Sable was eager.
“But it’d be oh, so much better for you not to have to face the Tribulation, dear lady. You need to come with us, Olive. You really do,” Pastor Bob said, reaching across the table for her hands. She drew back.
The Pastor beamed at her and looked at his watch. “You’ve got about eighty hours to change your mind.” Then he saw the waiter approaching and dropped his napkin in his lap. “And here comes my venison with rosemary potatoes.”
Near the White Tower, Ramla, Israel, 2330h
“And certainly We created man of the essence of clay… Then We made the seed a clot… Then We made the clot a lump of flesh.”
The green robes of the circle of brothers had long since dimmed into undifferentiated black. The only light came from a pale lamp the white-robed Sheikh used to read by, and the other three witnesses sat, all in white, at the remaining compass points. The sword lay on its tapestry on the ground before the Sheikh, who chanted from the book propped on his lap, stopping after every phrase, aching for breath.
“As for those who led the way, the first muhajirun… God is pleased with them… He has planted for them gardens streaming with running waters, where they shall have eternal life… This is the height of exaltation.”
A barefoot young initiate, all in black, stood in the center of the circle. The Sheikh paused while the initiate cupped his hands in a fountain. He washed his hands, face, and feet, breathed in the water and washed his mouth. Then the circle of men arose to begin the night prayer.
As the prayers closed, the initiate remained on his knees, hands spread before him as if holding an offering of incense
