And in the end, Jonah Harte’s anger and fear and unkindness had shattered. Two days before his death, Jonah had come to Jesus, and he had died almost peacefully in the arms of a son he had never truly acknowledged in life.
Delroy stared hard at the waiting helicopter. God, take me. Please take me and use me as You see fit. Don’t let me lie fallow while there is so much to be done. But in the back of his mind, Delroy knew he was still angry over Terry’s death. And help me to get over the loss of my son, God. Help me to understand why You took him so that I may stand tall in Your service.
He almost felt ashamed at the last. God’s plans weren’t for men to understand. Only glimpses now and then were given to mere mortals. Josiah had taught Delroy that.
As the rotor wash from the helo grew stronger, Delroy tucked his father’s Bible under his arm and put his hand to his hat.
“Chaplain Harte!”
At first Delroy thought he had imagined the call.
“Chaplain Harte!”
Recognizing the captain’s voice, Delroy stopped and turned around. The rotor wash broke across his back and whipped his jacket billowing before him.
Captain Falkirk crossed the deck in the long, rolling stride of a longtime Navy man. His dress whites shone in the sun, and he looked dapper and resplendent in the uniform. He had his hat under his arm and a pair of blue-tinted aviator’s sunglasses on.
Delroy, his hands full with his Bible and his kit, fumbled with his hat and tried to tuck it under his arm so he could salute.
“At ease, Commander,” Falkirk said as he reached him. “This is an informal visit.” He smiled a little.
“Aye, sir.” Delroy stood in the full heat of the glaring sun. He controlled his anger at the man he’d always thought of as a friend, but he couldn’t help feeling betrayed. When he’d reached his quarters, Falkirk had already left a message with a young ensign outside his door with instructions to pack only an overnight bag and report to the flight deck immediately. Delroy assumed that the rest of his personal belongings would be shipped to him later. He still didn’t know where the captain was sending him.
“I’ve just come to see you off, Commander,” Falkirk said.
“There was no need for that, sir,” Delroy replied.
“Angry, Commander?”
“Frustrated mostly, sir.”
“But you’re angry, too.”
Delroy couldn’t fathom the captain’s easygoing nature. “I think I’m entitled, sir.”
Falkirk nodded, and the sun gleamed from the blue lenses. “I think you are, too. Because if you’re right and God has raptured his church—”
“Begging the captain’s pardon,” Delroy interrupted, “I am right.”
Falkirk’s gaze behind the blue-tinted lenses was implacable and accusing. “Yet here you stand, in a world that’s been left behind, in a world of non- and near-believers.”
The captain’s words stung. Delroy pushed his breath out. “Sir, I’ve got a helicopter waiting for me. The longer it sits on that helipad, the more fuel it burns. I wouldn’t dare to presume to tell you your job, but I think I’d be a little more miserly with my resources till I figured out where I stood in this thing.”
“So why do you think you were left behind?” Falkirk gazed up at Delroy from behind the sunglasses.
“My beliefs are hardly under your purview, Captain,” Delroy stated stiffly.
“Aren’t they, Chaplain?” Falkirk’s voice took on an edge. “You came into my office and started talking, as Colonel Donaldson called it, crazy talk. You advanced your theory—”
“It’s not a theory. It’s the truth.”
Falkirk ignored the interruption. “Your theory that the world was raptured, in an attempt to explain the disappearances aboard Wasp and among the Marines sent to the border conflict. That advancement of said theory places your contentions under my purview.” He paused. “Wouldn’t you agree, Commander?”
Muscles knotted along Delroy’s jaw. He made himself answer with effort. “Aye, sir.”
Falkirk looked away, seemingly staring at the whitecapped waves rolling in toward Wasp’s bow. “As captain of this ship, I’ve got a responsibility to the Navy, to the Marines, and to the men and women I serve with.”
Delroy remained silent even though he knew the captain awaited a response from him.
“Your view on the happening aboard this ship incited a colonel in the United States Marine Corps to point a gun at your head and later take a swing at you. A colonel. Can you believe that?”
“Sir, in my defense, I did not provoke the colonel.”
Falkirk swiveled his head and looked at Delroy. “No, sir, you didn’t. Your view did.”
Exasperated, Delroy asked, “Captain, do you know why Colonel Donaldson reacted the way he did?”
“Of course I do, Commander. Donaldson is afraid that you’re right.”
Surprise stole Delroy’s voice.
“The problem is,” Falkirk continued, “I am the captain of this ship. I am supposed to set a standard for this vessel and her crew to adhere to. Yet, here are two of the most respected officers aboard my ship, clearly at odds with each other during the greatest crisis this ship—and very probably, the world—has ever faced.” He paused. “So I have to make a choice.”
“And you chose Donaldson.”
“Chaplain, do you know who the most dangerous person on this planet is?”
A multitude of scenarios involving nuclear weapons and biological agents came to Delroy’s mind. Wasp’s crew knew all about those from intensified studies and debriefs as a result of the current rise in terrorist activity.
“The most dangerous person on this planet,” Falkirk continued before Delroy could answer, “is the person who believes he is a pretty good Christian.”
At first, Delroy couldn’t believe he’d heard right. He thought perhaps the rotor wash had slurred the captain’s words.
“Pretty good Christians,” Falkirk repeated, “believe they are doing the right thing, living a good life as God would have them do. But they’re actually a shell. They live it right on the outside, keep up the appearance, go to church, talk the right talk, do the right things.” He paused. “But they don’t
