"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 11 - Armageddon" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

can't do a thing about it."
"That's starting to sound more attractive all the time. Anyway, what are we
going to do about what just hap-pened?"
Buck and Sebastian looked at each other.
"Come on, guys," Chloe said. "You think Priscilla doesn't know you're gone
and isn't going to ask where you've been?"
"She knows I was on watch."
"But you don't come over here unless something's up."
"I'm hoping she slept through it."
Chloe stood and moved to Buck's lap. "Look, I'm not trying to be
cantankerous. Buck, tell him."
"Chloe Steele Williams is not trying to be cantanker-ous," he announced.
"Good," Sebastian muttered. "Coulda fooled me."
Chloe shook her head. "George, please. You know I think you're one of the
best things that's ever happened to the Trib Force. You bring gifts nobody else
has, and you've kept us from disaster more than once. But every-one living here
deserves to know what you guys saw tonight. Not telling people, pretending it
didn't happen, isn't going to change that we came this close to being found out."
"But we didn't, Chloe," Sebastian said. "Why stir up everybody?"
"We're already stirred up! I'm with these wives and kids all day. Even
without bands of GC nosing around right over our heads in the middle of the
night, we live like prairie dogs. The kids get fresh air only if they happen to wake
up before the sun and someone herds them out the vehicle bay door. You guys
have to sneak around and drive thirty miles, hoping you're not followed, to get to
your planes. All I'm saying is that if we're going to have to defend ourselves, we
have a right to be prepared."


Rayford would have to ask Tsion about this one. What was it about the
darkness that was so oppressive it left victims in agony? He had heard of
disaster scenes-train wrecks, earthquakes, battles-where what haunted the
rescue workers for years had been the shrieks and moans of the injured. As he
and Abdullah and the two young people tiptoed across the massive runways,
around heavy equipment and between writhing personnel, it was clear these
people would rather be dead. And some had already died. Two crashed planes
lay in pieces, still smol-dering, many charred bodies still in their seats.
As he moved from the dead to the suffering, Rayford was overcome. The
wailing pierced him and he slowed, desperate to help. But what could he do?
"Oh! Someone!" It was the shriek of a middle-aged woman. "Anyone,
please! Help me!"
Rayford stopped and stared. She lay on her side on the tarmac near the
terminal. Others shushed her. A man cried out, "We are all lost and blind,
woman! You don't need more help than we do!"
"I'm starving!" she whined. "Does anyone have any-thing?"
"We're all starving! Shut up!"
"I don't want to die."
"I do!"
"Where is the potentate? He will save us!"
"When was the last time you saw the potentate? He has his own concerns."
Rayford was unable to pull away. He looked ahead, but even he had but