“The Rapture did occur, First Sergeant. That is the cornerstone of the rest of your belief, and the building block to the peace with God that you seek.”
Goose nodded and breathed out slowly, striving to control himself. He tried to speak, then had to try again. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“That God would take the children?”
“Yes.”
Baker shook his head. “I disagree. I think it makes perfect sense. God cherishes the innocence of children. So He reached down and removed them from harm’s way. Every good general would do that for a civilian population, and God is preparing for the final battles against the Great Deceiver.”
“But He took them from us,” Goose said. “He took my son from me.” Goose could feel tears threatening to fall, and he held them back by sheer willpower.
“Do you truly blame God for this?”
“Yes,” Goose replied without hesitation. “Who else is there to blame?”
“Satan.”
“Satan didn’t take my son.”
“No,” Baker said agreeably, “and aren’t you glad that Satan didn’t? Have you ever thought about what Chris’s life would be like right now if he were still here with us? How terrified and vulnerable he would be?”
For the first time, Goose realized the truth of that. Chris was safely out of the line of fire from the greatest enemy mankind had ever known and struggled to deny. He was safe; he was with God. Forever.
Pain threatened to bring back the tears at that thought.
“So you see?” Baker asked.
“I still don’t want to accept it. I miss my son. Chris was safe back at Fort Benning.”
“Was he?”
“Yes. I’ve talked with Megan.” Actually, now that he thought about it, Goose hadn’t been able to talk to her for days. Phone communications had been spotty. Few military men had been able to get in touch with their families. “Things are confused at the post, just like the things we’ve seen on television, but everyone there is safe, including my stepson, Joey.”
“Things there are safe for now. The world isn’t going to get better. Cataclysmic events lie ahead of us. Many people will perish.” Baker sipped his coffee. He glanced at the bread on the small plate in front of Goose. “You need to eat, First Sergeant.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat anyway.”
Reluctantly, knowing he would need his strength, Goose turned his attention to the bread. Despite the primitive conditions, it was good.
“The time has come for the world as we know it to end,” Baker said. “That was written in the Bible more than two thousand years ago. We weren’t told all of the details of God’s plans for battle, but we were told some of them.”
“Seven years, right?” Goose asked. “That’s how long the Tribulation will last before there’s an end to everything?”
“Yes. God took the children and raptured His church to get them out of harm’s way. A soldier protects those who cannot protect themselves.”
“Bill Townsend was a soldier,” Goose pointed out. “He vanished. We could have used him here.” I could have used him here. Goose immediately felt selfish, but he also knew he was right. “There were a lot of good soldiers among the missing men that we could use now.”
“Bill and those others earned their places in heaven, First Sergeant. You can’t begrudge them that. They knew the Lord better than we did before the world changed so much for the rest of us.”
“I don’t begrudge them that. But I wish they were here.”
“Those of us who were left behind,” Baker said, “we have to learn to fight our own battles. We must come to our beliefs truly and without holding back. Many people—if not most—who were left behind will not survive these next seven years.” He paused. “You saw the dead children in Glitter City? And the bodies of the children who were killed in the SCUD attack launched on this city?”
The images of the small corpses flooded Goose’s mind. He remembered that one of the first tasks Baker had volunteered for when they had reached Sanliurfa was the comfort crew. Those men had prepared mass graves to empty the city of the dead. They had taken the dead from their loved ones, gathered broken, gory corpses, and buried them with as much honor and dignity as possible under the circumstances. Baker had served prominently among those teams.
“Yes,” Goose said. “I remember. I won’t forget them.”
“Nor should you.” Baker looked at him. “But for the grace of God, soon you could be burying your own son as so many of these families have done.”
The thought hammered Goose, making him feel shamed and agonized at the same time. “I know,” he whispered.
“The sad thing is, First Sergeant, you have another son that wasn’t so blessed. You still have a son who’s at risk in this world, and that is a frightening thing.”
Goose thought of Joey. The last he’d heard, Joey had left the house after an argument with Megan. With the phones out, he didn’t know if Joey had returned. Or even if Joey was able to return. Baker was right. Joey was still at risk.
“Chris is gone from you,” Baker said, “lifted on high by God Himself. Thank God in your prayers that you didn’t have to bury him.”
“I know.” Goose let out a tense breath. “I just wish that all of this was easier to accept.”
“Don’t wish for that, First Sergeant. Pray for it. God will answer those who call on Him. Read Psalm 145:18.”
Goose nodded.
“Now, as to what we can know and guess of the Tribulation,” Baker went on. “We know that those left behind will be tested for seven years. At this point, I can only tell you about the first twentyone months. I could guess at the rest of it, but I don’t want to do that.”
“Nearly two years’ worth of battle plans,” Goose said. “I can live with that. As of right now, we’re still going day-to-day here.”
“During these first twenty-one months,” Baker said, “we’re going to witness miracles and cataclysms known as the seven
