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his fins touched he realized how mushy it was and how dangerous it would be to
get stuck.
It was Buck's turn to feed Hattie, who had become so weak she could barely
move.
Dr. Charles was on his way.
Buck spoke softly as he spooned soup to her lips. Hattie, we all love you and
your baby. We want only the best for you. You've heard Dr. Ben-Judah's
teaching. You know what's been foretold and what's already happened. There's
no way you can deny that the prophecies of the Word of God have been fulfilled
from the day of the disappearances until now. What will it take to convince
you? How much more proof do you need? Bad as these times are, God is making
clear that there is only one choice. You're either on his side or you're on
the side of evil. Don't let it get to where you or your baby are killed in one
of the judgments to come.
Hattie pressed her lips together and refused the next offering of soup. I
don't need any more convincing, Buck, she whispered.
Chloe hobbled over. Should I get Tsion?
Buck shook his head, keeping his eyes on Hattie. He leaned close to hear her.
I
know this all has to be true, she managed. If I needed more convincing, I'd
have to be the biggest skeptic in history.
Chloe brushed Hattie's hair away from her forehead and tucked the bangs up.
She's really hot, Buck.
Crumble some Tylenol in this soup.
Hattie seemed to be sleeping, but Buck was worried. What a waste if they
somehow lost her when she was this close to a decision for Christ. Hattie, if
you know it's true, if you believe, all you have to do is receive God's gift.
Just agree with him that you're a sinner like everyone else and that you need
his forgiveness. Do it, Hattie.
Make sure of it.
She appeared to be struggling to open her eyes. Her lips parted and then
closed. She held a breath, as if to speak, but she did not. Finally, she
whispered again. I want that, Buck. I really do. But you don't know what I've
done.
It doesn't make any difference, Hattie. Even people who were raptured with
Christ were just sinners saved by grace. No one is perfect. We've all done
awful things.
Not like me, she said.
God wants to forgive you.
Chloe returned with a spoonful of crushed Tylenol and stirred it into the
soup. Buck waited, praying silently. Hattie, he said gently, you need more
of this soup. We put medicine in it for you.
Tears slid down Hattie's cheeks, and her eyes closed. Just let me die, she
said.
No! Chloe said. You promised to be my baby's godmother.
You don't want somebody like me for that, Hattie said.
You're not going to die, Chloe said. You're my friend, and I want you for a
sister.
I'm too old to be your sister, she said.
Too late. You can't back out now.
Buck got some soup down her. You want Jesus, don't you? he whispered, his
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lips near her ear.
He waited a long time for her response. I want him, but he couldn't want me.
He does, Chloe said. Hattie, please. You know we're telling you the truth.
The same God that fulfills prophecies centuries old loves you and wants you.
Don't say no to him.
I'm not saying no to him. He's saying no to me.
Chloe tugged at Hattie's wrist. Buck looked at her in surprise. Help me sit
her up, Buck.
Chloe! She can't.
She has to be able to think and listen, Buck. We can't let her go.
Buck took Hattie's other wrist, and they pulled until she sat up. She pressed
her fingers against her temples and sat moaning.
Listen to me, Chloe said. The Bible says God is not willing that any should
perish. Are you the one person in history who did something so bad that not
even the God of the universe can forgive you? If God forgives only minor sins,
there's no hope for any of us. Whatever you've done, God is like the father of
the Prodigal
Son, scanning the horizon. He stands with his arms wide open, waiting for
you.
Hattie rocked and shook her head. I've done bad things, she said.
Buck looked at Chloe, helpless, wondering.
It was worse than Rayford could have imagined. He came upon the colossal
fuselage, its nose and a quarter of its length buried in the muck of the
Tigris at a forty-five-degree angle. The wheel housings were gone. Rayford
could only dread
what he and Mac were about to see. Everything in that plane, from equipment to
carry-on luggage, seats and seat backs, tray tables, phones, and even
passengers, would be in one massive heap at the front. An impact violent
enough to snap landing gear from a plane would immediately break the neck of
any passenger. The seats would have ripped from the floor and accordioned atop
each other, passengers stacked upon each other like cordwood. Everything
attached would have broken loose and been forced to the front.
Rayford wished he at least knew what seat Amanda was supposed to have been in,
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