"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 10 - The Remnant" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

unarmed souls, showing their backsides to the Global Community as
the bombs hurtled in. But he would show the impact, the blasts,
the fire, the smoke, the desolation. He would illustrate the
futility of opposing the new world order.

Rayford's mind argued against his instincts. Dr. BenJudah
believed they were safe, that this was a city of refuge, the
place God had promised. And yet Rayford had lost a man here just
days before. On the other hand, the ground attack by the GC had
been miraculously thwarted at the last instant. Why couldn't
Rayford rest in that, trust, believe, have confidence?

Because he knew warheads. And as these dropped, parachutes puffed
from each, slowing them and allowing them to drop simultaneously
straight down toward the assembled masses. Rayford's heart sank
when he saw the black pole attached to the nose of each bomb. The
GC had left nothing to chance. Just over four feet long, as soon
as those standoff probes touched the ground they would trip the
fuses, causing the bombs to explode above the surface.

Chloe Steele Williams was impressed with Hannah's driving.
Unfamiliar vehicle, unfamiliar country yet the Native American,
who had been uncannily morphed into a New Delhi Indian, handled
the appropriated GC Jeep as if it were her own. She was smoother
and more self confident than Mac McCullum had been, but of course
he had spent the entire drive across the Greek countryside
talking.

"I know this is all new to you gals," he had said, causing Chloe
to catch Hannah's eye and wink. If anybody could get away with
unconscious chauvinism, it was the weathered pilot and former
military man, who referred to all the women in the Trib Force as
"little ladies" but did not seem consciously condescending.

"I got to get to the airport," he told them, "which is thataway,
and y'all have got to get into Ptolemas and find the Co op." He
pulled over and hopped out. "Whicha you two is drivin' again?"

Hannah climbed behind the wheel from the backseat, her starched
white GC officer's uniform still crisp.



Mac shook his head. "You two look like a coupla Wacs, but 'course
they don't call 'em that anymore." He looked up and down the
road, and Chloe felt compelled to do the same. It was noon, the
sun high and hot and directly overhead, no clouds. She saw no
other vehicles and heard none. "Don't worry about me," Mac added.
"Somebody'll be along and I'll catch a ride."