Desecration: Antichrist Takes The Throne by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online

ever the wordsmith, changed the lyrics on the spot and sang:
    Fail, Carpathia, you fake and stupid thing;
    Fail, Carpathia, fool of everything.
    I’ll hassle you until you die;
    You’re headed for a lake of fire.
    Fail, Carpathia, you fake and stupid thing.
    Finally Suhail Akbar opened the car door with a flourish and a deep bow, and Carpathia bounded out alone. The crowds gasped, then roared and applauded at the youthful man wearing gold sandals and an iridescent white robe, cinched at the waist with a silver belt that seemed to glow with its own light source. As bodyguards in sunglasses and black suits, hands clasped before them, formed a half circle behind him, Nicolae stood with eyes closed, face beatifically pointed toward the clouds and palms outstretched as if eager to embrace everyone at once.
    Buck stole a glance at Chaim, who merely squinted at Antichrist in the distance, his face a mix of sadness and disgust.
    As the vehicles discreetly pulled away, a camouflage canvas-covered military truck slowly rolled to within twenty feet of Carpathia. Buck saw Fortunate kneel and reach under his robe to vigorously scratch his ankle.
    Two uniformed GC Peacekeepers lowered a ramp from the truck; then one jumped onto the trailer and the other reached for a dangling rope. One pulling, the other pushing, they brought into view a monstrous pink sow that, despite its enormous bulk, daintily stepped down the ramp and turned slowly to face Carpathia. The animal, which had clearly been drugged, reacted lethargically to the mayhem.
    A black leather strap with a flat leather pad and rounded, covered stirrups was fastened around its middle. Carpathia approached and cupped the pig’s fleshy face in his hands, looking over his shoulder to the crowd, which was now laughing and whocping in frenzy. One of the Peacekeepers handed him what appeared to be a noose, which Carpathia draped around the sow’s neck.
    Then, with one hand on the rope and the hem of his own garment-which he hiked up to his knee-and the other steadied by a Peacekeeper, Nicolae placed his left foot in a stirrup and swung his right over the pig’s back. He let go of the Peacekeeper’s hand and smoothed his robe back down over his legs, held :he rope with both hands, and looked again to the crowd for a response. The pig had moved not an inch uncer Nicolae’s weight, and as he yanked on the rope, tightening the knot around its neck, the spindly legs felt for purchase on the pavement and slowly turned to move the other direction. Nicolae waved as the crowd exulted.
    “I don’t get it!” a man in front of Buck said, his accent German. “What’s he doing?”
    “Putting all previous religions in their places, Fried-rich!” his wife said, her eyes glued to the scene. “Even Christianity. Especially Christianity.”
    “But what’s with the pig?”
    “Christianity has Jewish roots,” she said, still not looking at him. “What’s more offensive to a Jew than an animal he’s not allowed to eat?”
    The man shrugged, and finally she turned to look at him. “It’s hardly subtle.”
    “That’s what I’m thinking! You’d think he’d have more class.”
    “Hey,” she said, “you come back from the dead, and you can define class any way you want.”
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    The spectacle was broadcast internationally on radio and television and via the Internet. David followed it on his computer as Albie helicoptered him toward Petra. Carpathia’s brazenness shouldn’t have surprised him, but with relatives in Israel and childhood memories of the place, the whole pageant gave him a headache. David’s scalp itched, but he dared not scratch it. He pressed his palm over the healing area, which reminded him of Hannah’s treating him. That, of course, reminded him of what he was doing when he had collapsed-searching for his missing fiancee in the aftermath of Carpathia’s resurrection-and he felt the familiar ache for Annie. He would see her again in less than three and a half