Read Online The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins - Free Book Online

unbelievable. Have you lost people?”
    “’Fraid so,” she said, her voice quavery. “About a dozen nieces and nephews.”
    “Wow.”
    “You?”
    “I don’t know yet. I’m just getting back from a flight, and I haven’t been able to reach anybody.”
    “Do you want me to wait for you?”
    “No. I have a car. If I need to go anywhere, I’ll be all right.”
    “O’Hare’s closed, you know,” she said.
    “Really? Since when?”
    “They just announced it on the radio. Runways are full of planes, terminals full of people, roads full of cars.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    As the woman drove, sniffling, into Mount Prospect, Rayford felt fatigue he had never endured before. Every few houses had driveways jammed with cars, people milling about. It appeared everyone everywhere had lost someone. He knew he would soon be counted among them.
    “Can I offer you anything?” he asked the woman as she pulled into his driveway.
    She shook her head. “I’m just glad to have been able to help. You could pray for me, if you think of it. I don’t know if I can endure this.”
    “I’m not much for praying,” Rayford admitted.
    “You will be,” she said. “I never was before either, but I am now.”
    “Then you can pray for me,” he said.
    “I will. Count on it.”
    Rayford stood in the driveway and waved to the woman till she was out of sight. The yard and the walk were spotless as usual, and the huge home, his trophy house, was sepulchral. He unlocked the front door. From the newspaper on the stoop to the closed drapes in the picture window to the bitter smell of burned coffee when he opened the door, everything pointed to what he dreaded.
    Irene was a fastidious housekeeper. Her morning routine included the coffeepot on a timer kicking on at six, percolating her special blend of decaf with an egg. The radio was set to come on at 6:30, tuned to the local Christian station. The first thing Irene did when she came downstairs was open the drapes at the front and back of the house.
    With a lump in his throat Rayford tossed the newspaper into the kitchen and took his time hanging up his coat and sliding his bag into the closet. He remembered the package Irene had mailed him at O’Hare and put it in his wide uniform pocket. He would carry it with him as he searched for evidence that she had disappeared. If she was gone, he sure hoped she had been right. He wanted above all else for her to have seen her dream realized, for her to have been taken away by Jesus in the twinkling of an eye—a thrilling, painless journey to his side in heaven, as she always loved to say. She deserved that if anybody did.
    And Raymie. Where would he be? With her? Of course. He went with her to church, even when Rayford didn’t go. He seemed to like it, to get into it. He even read his Bible and studied it.
    Rayford unplugged the coffeepot that had been turning itself off and then back on for seven hours and had ruined the brew. He dumped the mess and left the pot in the sink. He flicked off the radio, which was piping the Christian station’s network news hookup into the air, droning on about the tragedy and mayhem that had resulted from the disappearances.
    He looked about the living room, dining room, and kitchen, expecting to see nothing but the usual neatness of Irene’s home. His eyes filling with tears, he opened the drapes as she would have. Was it possible she had gone somewhere? Visited someone? Left him a message? But if she had and he did find her, what would that say about her own faith? Would that prove this was not the Rapture she believed in? Or would it mean she was lost, just like he was? For her sake, if this was the Rapture, he hoped she was gone. But the ache and the emptiness were already overwhelming.
    He switched on the answering machine and heard all the same messages he had heard when he had gotten through from O’Hare, plus the message he had left. His own voice sounded strange to him. He detected in it a