“Chaplain Harte,” the young man said.
“Yes?” Delroy scratched his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown there during the flight.
“We’re going to begin our descent in five minutes. You might want to put your seat belt on. They had a lot of damage at Dulles when the, uh, incident occurred. They haven’t gotten it all cleaned up.”
“Will there be any problems?” Delroy preferred the sea, calm and wide open. And as long as a person stayed on top of it, the sea was a fine place to be. Flying, in his view, was a necessary evil.
“None that we can see,” the lieutenant assured him.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome.” The lieutenant looked at all the papers and books that Delroy had scattered around. “Will you need help putting things away?”
“No,” Delroy answered. “No, I’m fine. You go on and take care of your business, Lieutenant.”
The lieutenant nodded and started back to the pilot’s cabin.
“Lieutenant,” Delroy called.
“Yes, sir.”
“There is one thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve got a meeting with the joint chiefs as soon as I can get there.” Delroy touched his face. “After a flight this long, I’m not exactly presentable.”
“Captain Falkirk had us set up a liaison for you as soon as you’re on the ground, sir. You’ll be met at the runway with a fresh uniform and toiletries.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Delroy turned his attention back to his papers. He should have known: Falkirk was a very able and thorough captain.
The C-9 hit a patch of turbulence. His papers and books scattered everywhere. Delroy pushed himself up from his seat and started gathering them. Before he knew it, the lieutenant was kneeling in front of him, picking up the papers and study guides.
“I can get this,” Delroy said hurriedly.
“It’s all right. Frank can land the plane by himself if he needs to. This won’t take us but just a moment.”
Then Delroy realized he was trying to keep all of his research to himself. He felt embarrassed to have God’s Word scattered around, out there for everyone to see what he’d been doing. Embarrassed—he couldn’t believe it. How long has it been since I felt like that?
The young lieutenant flipped through the end-times prophecy book Delroy had been referencing “The end of the world, Chaplain?” the lieutenant asked with a small smile. “Is that what you’ve been reading about?”
Delroy heard the lieutenant’s inflection. Was the man trying to be sarcastic? Anger replaced the embarrassment that Delroy had felt. He knew he was having a hard time of it. He’d had little sleep in the last forty-eight hours, what with Mellencamp’s death and the flight in to Washington. Colonel Donaldson’s response had weighed heavily in the chaplain’s mind as well. There was no guarantee the joint chiefs would listen any more than the Marine colonel had. That thought settled into Delroy’s brain with a vengeance.
“Yes,” Delroy said, “the end of the world. That’s what I’m reading about.”
The lieutenant handed the books over. “My grandmother used to try to scare me into being a better kid with that stuff.”
“With what?” Delroy stared into the young man’s ice-blue eyes.
“The end of the world,” the young man said. “The—” he held up his hands and made quotation marks in the air—“Apocalypse.” He laughed. “Like anybody could really believe in that.”
“You don’t believe the Apocalypse is going to happen?” Delroy stood.
“I think it’s a story,” the young lieutenant said.
“A story.” Delroy couldn’t believe his ears.
“Yeah,” the young lieutenant said. “Every culture has a story about what’s going to happen when the world ends. If you don’t like the Apocalypse, maybe you could tune in to Ragnarok. The Norse invented a mythology for the end of the world, too. And if you don’t want to hang your hat on the truly ancient beliefs, you can also go for the scientific end of the world as we know it.” He smiled. “Take your pick. The hole in the ozone. The melting polar caps. Getting hit by a meteor. Or even the slow death of the sun eventually burning itself out.” He shrugged. “The last one could be dull but festive.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Delroy drew himself up to his full height, towering above the other man. “How dare you talk to me like that. I am a superior officer, Lieutenant.”
“Are you a superior officer, Chaplain Harte?” the lieutenant mused. “You’ve been sent on an important mission.” He made his voice deep. “Convince the Joint Chiefs of Staff that God has come and taken his children.” He laughed. “Do you know how pathetic that sounds?”
“I’ll have your name, mister,” Delroy said gruffly.
“Sure. Read it for yourself.”
Delroy looked at the man’s name badge but couldn’t quite make it out. The letters seemed to be squirming, constantly staying just ahead of his ability to focus.
“You don’t believe God exists,” the smiling lieutenant said. “You’ve served aboard Wasp for five years, and you haven’t believed.”
“Shut up!” Delroy roared.
“You haven’t believed,” the man taunted. “That’s why Colonel Donaldson didn’t buy into your story.”
“Donaldson is afraid,” Delroy said in a voice that was only somewhat below a shout. He didn’t understand why one of the other pilots didn’t come back to find out what was going on. Unless they are all in on it. The thought filled him with fear.
The lieutenant grinned. He whispered, “Maybe I killed them all.”
“Who are you?” Delroy demanded.
The man shook his head. “The question isn’t who am I, it’s who do you think you are? How can you be a chaplain if you don’t believe?”
Delroy walked to the pilot’s cabin door and tried to open it. The handle didn’t turn. Knotting a fist, he pounded on the door. “Open this door.”
“How can you expect anyone to believe you,” the man asked, “when you don’t even believe yourself?”
Delroy whirled on the man, barely maintaining the panic that filled him. “I do believe!”
“Why? Because a lot of people turned up missing sixteen-plus hours ago and you don’t have an answer? Oh, man, if you can’t explain it, if things don’t go
