"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 1 - Left Behind" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

side, all the way down the runway. Every gate was full, and none were backing out.
Every mode of human transport was in use, busing passengers from the ends of the
runways back to the terminal.
But, Rayford was told, he would likely, find that his people—at least most of
them—would have to walk all the way. All remaining personnel had been called in
to serve, but they were busy directing planes to safe areas. The few buses and vans
were reserved for the handicapped, elderly, and flight crews. Rayford passed the
word along that his crew would be walking.
Passengers reported that they had been unable to get through on the in-flight
phones. Hattie Durham told Rayford that one enterprising passenger in first class
had somehow hooked up the phone to his computer, and while he composed
messages it was automatically dialing and redialing New York. If a line opened, this
would be the guy who got through.


By the time the plane began its descent into Chicago, Buck had been able to squeeze
onto only one briefly freed-up line to his computer service, which prompted him to
download his waiting mail. This came just as Hattie announced that all electronic
devices must be turned off.
With an acumen he didn't realize he possessed, Buck speed-tapped the keys that
retrieved and filed all his messages, downloaded them, and backed him out of the
linkup in seconds. Just when his machine might have interfered with flight
communications, he was off-line and would have to wait to search his files for news
from friends, coworkers, relatives, anyone.
Before her last-minute preparations for landing, Hattie hurried to Buck.
“Anything?” He shook his head apologetically. “Thanks for trying,” she said. And
she began to weep.
He reached for her wrist. “Hattie, we're all going to go home and cry today. But
hang in there. Get your passengers off the plane, and you can at least feel good
about that.”
“Mr. Williams,” she sobbed, “you know we lost several old people, but not all of
them. And we lost several middle-aged people, but not all of them. And we lost
several people your age and my age, but not all of them. We even lost some
teenagers.”
He stared at her. What was she driving at?
“Sir, we lost every child and baby on this plane.”
“How many were there?”
“More than a dozen. But all of them! Not one was left.”
The man next to Buck roused and, squinted at the late morning sun burning through
the window. “What in blazes are you two talking about?” he said.
“We're about to land in Chicago,” Hattie said. “I've got to run.”
“Chicago?”
“You don't want to know,” Buck said.
The man nearly sat in Buck's lap to get a look out the window, his boozy breath
enveloping Buck. “What, are we at war? Riots? What?”


Having just cut through the cloud bank, the plane allowed passengers a view of the
Chicago area. Smoke. Fire. Cars off the road and smashed into each other and
guardrails. Planes in pieces on the ground. Emergency vehicles, lights flashing,