“But what happens to the Islamic Dome of the Rock?”

“I am so glad you asked that question,” Carpathia said, and Buck wondered if he hadn’t planted it. “Our Muslim brothers have agreed to move not only the shrine but also the sacred section of the rock to New Babylon, freeing the Jews to rebuild their temple on what they believe is the original site.”

“One of my leadership techniques is my power of observation, combined with a prodigious memory,” Carpathia said.

“Talk about how we’re supposed to live, now that we call ourselves followers of Christ. You know, like morality and sex and all of that.”

At 30, Cameron Williams was the youngest ever senior writer for the prestigious Global Weekly. The envy of the rest of the veteran staff, he either scooped them on or was assigned to the best stories in the world. Both admirers and detractors at the magazine called him Buck, because they said he was always bucking tradition and authority.

“Aren’t you afraid that Ms. Zee sounds too much like Missy?”

She stood. “Follow me.” She bristled past him, stomping out of her office and down the long hallway in her sensible shoes. Buck moved deliberately enough to drive Verna crazy, and he noticed people in their cubicles pretending not to notice but fighting smiles.

I have a vague recollection that they roll out guillotines for enemies of the Anti-Christ regime in those books. I remember thinking “how the fuck do I pronounce that?”

Buck had never had patience for traffic jams, but this was ridiculous. His jaw tightened and his neck stiffened as his palms squeezed the wheel. The late-model car was a smooth ride, but inching along in near gridlock made the huge automotive power plant feel like a stallion that wanted to run free.

“I guess I always thought clinics like the one where your sister works considered these unwanted pregnancies a nuisance. Shouldn’t they be glad if such problems disappear, and even happier — except for the small complication that the human race will eventually cease to exist — if pregnancies never happen again?”

The irony was lost on her. “But Rayford, that’s her job. That’s what the center is all about. It’s sort of like owning a gas station and nobody needs gas or oil or tires anymore.”

“Supply and demand.”

“Exactly! See? They need unwanted pregnancies because that’s their business.”

“Sort of like doctors wanting people to be sick or injured so they have something to do?”

“Now you’ve got it, Rayford.”

“I was not a religious Jew until God destroyed the Russian air force, and I can’t say I’m devout now. I always took the messianic prophecies the way I took the rest of the Torah. Symbolic. The rabbi at the temple I attended occasionally in Tel Aviv said himself that it was not important whether we believed that God was a literal being or just a concept. That fit with my humanist view of the world.”

Clearly Bruce had been in tune with what God was showing him. He had said over and over that this was not new truth, that the commentaries he cited were decades old and that the doctrine of the end times was much, much older than that. But those who had relegated this kind of teaching to the literalists, the fundamentalists, the closed-minded evangelicals, had been left behind. All of a sudden it was all right to take Scripture at its word!

It wasn’t simply Raymie’s age and innocence that had allowed his mother’s influence to affect him so. It was his spirit. He didn’t have the killer instinct, the “me first” attitude Rayford thought he would need to succeed in the real world. He wasn’t effeminate, but Rayford had worried that he might be a mama’s boy — too compassionate, too sensitive, too caring. He was always looking out for someone else when Rayford thought he should be looking out for number one.

So Jesus said he was coming quickly. Had he come? And if the Bible was as old as it seemed, what did “quickly” mean? It must not have meant soon, unless it was from the perspective of someone with a long view of history. Maybe Jesus meant that when he came, he would do it quickly.

He began in almost a whisper, “From lands distant and near they have come: from Afghanistan, Albania, Algeria …” He continued, his voice rising and falling dramatically with the careful pronunciation of the name of each member country of the United Nations. Buck sensed a passion, a love for these countries and the ideals of the U.N. Carpathia was clearly moved as he plunged on, listing country after country, not droning but neither in any hurry.

A minute into his list, representatives noticed that with each name, someone from that country rose in dignity and stood erect, as if voting anew for peace among nations. Carpathia smiled and nodded at each as they rose, and nearly every country was represented. Because of the cosmic trauma the world had endured, they had come looking for answers, for help, for support. Now they had been given the opportunity to take their stand once again. …

By the time he got into the Ss in his alphabetical listing, those standing had begun to quietly applaud each new country mentioned. It was a dignified, powerful thing, this show of respect and admiration, this re-welcome into the global village. …

Buck found himself eager to stand as well, ruing the fact that his country was near the end of the alphabet, but feeling pride and anticipation welling up within him. As more and more countries were named and their people stood proudly, the applause grew louder, merely because of the increased numbers. Carpathia was up to the task, his voice growing more emotional and powerful with each new country name.

On and on he thundered as people stood and clapped. “Somalia! South Africa! Spain! Sri Lanka! Sudan! Suriname! Swaziland! Sweden! Syria!”

“Who is this first horseman? Clearly he represents the Antichrist and his kingdom. His purpose is ‘conquering and to conquer.’ He has a bow in his hand, a symbol of aggressive warfare, and yet there is no mention of an arrow. So how will he conquer? Other passages indicate that he is a ‘willful king’ and that he will triumph through diplomacy. He will usher in a false peace, promising world unity. Will he be victorious? Yes! He has a crown.”

“When will you be in your most important, most formal meeting? Whenever that is, I’ll eat my cookie,” Chloe said. “And I dare you to eat yours then, too.”

“You’ll learn not to dare me,” Buck smiled, but he was only half kidding. “I know no fear.”

Buck reached for her cookie sack.