“I’ve slept some,” Goose answered.
“Should I try to speak with you at another time?”
“Now’s as good a time as any. What do you need?”
Baker glanced around and picked up a folding chair that looked incredibly small compared to his massive bulk. “I don’t need anything, First Sergeant. But I’ve noticed you coming around more than normal. I thought perhaps you might need something.”
Goose considered that. He’d wanted to talk to Baker after finishing up with Icarus the previous day, but there hadn’t been time. Baker had been assigned to help clear debris because he had been a heavyequipment operator prior to his army career. The loud earthmovers hadn’t provided Goose a chance to discuss anything that was on his mind. Later, Baker had gone directly to his church and joined the service.
“I saw you,” Baker said, “at the church. You came in, stayed for a while, then left.”
Goose nodded. The church hadn’t been the place to talk either. Unable to relax, Goose had borrowed a Bible from one of the ammo lockers Baker had established for people to share the Word of God. He’d felt guilty that he didn’t carry a Bible of his own.
When Goose had first joined the military, Wes Gander—his father—had packed one into his things without telling him. His dad had also added a half-dozen decks of playing cards, a memory book filled with pictures, a cribbage board, an extra pack of underwear and two extra packs of socks. Wes Gander had always been a caretaker. He’d been a Green Beret in Vietnam during some of the hottest parts of the war. He’d been the first to tell Goose about the importance of dry socks, even if a man couldn’t get clean ones.
“I thought maybe you had something on your mind,” Baker said.
Goose did, but he didn’t know how to approach the subject. Upon further reflection, Icarus’s statements about Nicolae Carpathia being the Antichrist had seemed too far-fetched to even speak about. Carpathia was all over the news yesterday and today, so it was no surprise that Icarus had chosen the Romanian president to fixate on.
Icarus hadn’t been in any better shape than Goose was. The man hadn’t had any sleep for days, was suffering from wounds he’d received at the hands of the vengeful PKK terrorists, and was paranoid from being hunted by the CIA and by Remington’s handpicked dirtytricks squad. The man was hallucinating, obviously trying to find a way to make sense of everything that was happening to him.
“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” Goose said.
Baker nodded, then pointed his chin at the Bible Goose held. “Reading?”
“Yeah.” Goose marked his place in Revelation, closed the Bible, and put it on the bed beside him.
“You developed a sudden interest?” Baker asked.
“Maybe.” Goose hesitated. “We’re in the middle of the country where all of this took place.”
“Most of the Old Testament, sure.” Baker indicated the Bible. “May I?”
Uncomfortable with the attention Baker was paying to his newfound interest, Goose said, “Yeah.”
Baker scooped the Bible up in one huge paw. He flicked the golden sash that marked Goose’s place. “Revelation.”
Goose really didn’t want to get into this discussion. Too many questions and challenges crowded his mind. He needed to remain focused on the mission.
“This part of the Bible, First Sergeant, happens everywhere. Not just in Turkey.”
“I know.”
Baker replaced the Bible on the bed. “That particular book is one that has puzzled sages and laymen for centuries.”
“I can understand how,” Goose admitted. “The reading goes pretty hard.”
“There’s a basic precept in the book of Revelation that people forget.”
“What’s that?”
“God didn’t lay out the end times so everyone could understand them. Those words are warnings, signs, portents. They are not a concrete blueprint of what’s going to happen and what a man should do about it. They’re guideposts for choosing how to live, and they’re not meant to be clear. God wants you to have to work at it. He wants you to read it and think about it. Prophecy is like that. Like John says in Revelation 1:3: ‘Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written in it; for the time is near.’”
“There’s that question of belief,” Goose said. “My daddy talked about that a lot.”
Interest flickered in Baker’s eyes. “Your father was a preacher?”
“No. He was a soldier, and after that he was a lot of things. Never found a true calling after the military, but we made do with the odd jobs he held. One of the things he spent a lot of time at, even though it didn’t pay, was teaching Sunday school. I learned a lot about the Bible and about God while I spent time with him.” Goose glanced at the Bible. “I wish now that I’d paid better attention.”
“Why? So you’d know what heaven is going to be like?”
Goose thought of Chris and silently hoped that was where his young son was. “Nah. I don’t think that’s meant for us to know. The book of Revelation isn’t exactly a tour guide of heaven. It’s more focused on the troubles here on earth.”
“Yeah. Revelation describes things that are yet to come to us humans. The good things and the bad things. It talks a little about heaven, but mostly it concerns itself with what comes after the Rapture.”
Nodding, Goose said, “I never really noticed that before when I read it. I thought the message was always about what you could look forward to in heaven.”
“No. It’s a war map for the final battles with Satan and his minions.” Baker shifted and the chair creaked threateningly. “I’ve been talking about Revelation quite a lot in my services.”
“I’ve heard
