Left Behind: A Novel Of Earth's Last Days by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online Page A

at the other seven pilots in the copter. None seemed to return her gaze. This disaster was still too fresh and there were too many unknowns. Rayford thought he heard or lip-read one of them saying, “Christopher Smith,” but there was no way he could hear inside the raucous craft. He put his mouth next to Hattie’s ear.
    “Now what about Chris?” he said.
    She turned and spoke into his ear. “They wheeled him past us while I was going into the lounge. Blood all over!”
    “What happened?”
    “I don’t know, but, Rayford, he didn’t look good!”
    “How bad?”
    “I think he was dead! I mean, they were working on him, but I’d be surprised if he made it.”
    Rayford shook his head. What next? “Did he get hit or something? Did that bus crash?” Wouldn’t that be ironic!
    “I don’t know,” she said. “The blood seemed like it was coming from his hand or his waist or both.”
    Rayford tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Do you know anything about First Officer Christopher Smith?”
    “He with Pan-Con?” the pilot said.
    “Yes!”
    “Was he the suicide?”
    Rayford recoiled. “I don’t think so! Was there a suicide?”
    “Lots of ‘em, I guess, but mostly passengers. Only crew member I heard about was a Smith from Pan. Slit his wrists.”
    Rayford quickly scanned the others in the chopper to see if he recognized anyone. He didn’t, but one was nodding sadly, having overheard the pilot’s shouting. He leaned forward. “Chris Smith! You know him?”
    “My first officer!”
    “Sorry.”
    “What’d you hear?”
    “Don’t know how reliable this is, but the rumor is he found out his boys had disappeared and his wife was killed in a wreck!”
    For the first time the enormity of the situation became personal for Rayford. He didn’t know Smith well. He vaguely remembered Chris had two sons. Seemed they were young teenagers, very close in age. He had never met the wife. But suicide! Was that an option for Rayford? No, not with Chloe still there. But what if he had discovered that Irene and young Ray were gone and Chloe had been killed? What would he have to live for?
    He hadn’t been living for them anyway, certainly not the last several months. He had been playing around on the edges of his mind with the girl in his lap, though he had never gone so far as touching her, even when she often touched him. Would he want to live if Hattie Durham were the only person he cared about? And why did he care about her? She was beautiful and sexy and smart, but only for her age. They had little in common. Was it only because he was convinced Irene was gone that he now longed to hold his own wife?
    There was no affection in his embrace of Hattie Durham just now, nor in hers. Both were scared to death, and flirting was the last thing on their minds. The irony was not lost on him. He recalled that the last thing he daydreamed about—before Hattie’s announcement—was finally making a move on her. How could he have known she would be in his lap hours later and that he would have no more interest in her than in a stranger?
    The first stop was the Des Plaines Police Department, where Hattie disembarked. Rayford advised her to ask for a ride home with the police if a squad car was available. Most had been pressed into service in more congested areas, so that was unlikely. “I’m only about a mile from here anyway!” Hattie shouted above the roar as Rayford helped her from the chopper. “I can walk!” She wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace, and he felt her quiver in fear. “I hope everyone’s OK at your place!” she said. “Call me and let me know, ok?”
    He nodded.
    “OK?” she insisted.
    “OK!”
    As they lifted off he watched her survey the parking lot. Spotting no squad cars, she turned and hurried off, pulling her suitcase on wheels. By the time the helicopter began to swing toward Mount Prospect, Hattie was trotting toward her condominium.

    Buck Williams had been the first