by Dawn Morris
The crowd waited for quite some time. Suddenly, there were screams and shouting. What was happening in the Holy of Holies? The crowd grew agitated, unsure of what to do. The golden doors burst open and men with guns raced down the stairs. These men were dressed in a different uniform than the Global Union army.
“They’ve desecrated the Holy of Holies!” a man with a gun screamed as he started spraying bullets at the crowd. He continued shouting in a language I didn’t understand.
The woman guarding me, and her friend, screamed in terror as the wall next to us was riddled with bullets. They left me, rushing out of the Temple along with the panicked crowd. I was caught in the stampede as people raced to leave the courtyard. Screams and gunfire pierced the air amid the wild and unrestrained chaos.
I managed to wedge myself behind one of the pillars, wrapping my arms around my head as shots were fired. As I crouched, shaking, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A boy around my age was saying something to me, but I didn’t understand. Finally, he spoke in lightly accented English. “Are you hurt? You’re covered in blood.”
I looked up into his dark, worried eyes. “It’s not safe here,” he said as he surveyed my bloodied white gown, “especially for you. Come with me, and I’ll get you to a safe place.”
I hesitated. Trusting men who were offering me help had not gone well for me up to this point. Against my better judgment, I stood up and reluctantly took his offered hand.
We navigated the mayhem of the courtyard and through a narrow, nondescript door just across from where I’d been hiding. I could still hear gunshots behind us. The door opened to a brightly lit hallway. We raced down its length, stopping abruptly. He barreled through a door on our right, pulled me through and then slammed it shut, locking it. The Temple complex was large and complicated, but he seemed to know where he was going.
“We don’t have much time. The girls, the volunteers, they were all killed,” he told me. I gasped. I’d guessed that was our purpose from the beginning but to know the reality was shocking. “I don’t know how you escaped, but you’re not meant to be alive, and we need to get you out of here.”
As he spoke, he opened drawers and cabinets. “Here, this should do!” He handed me some clothes and told me to change into them. With fumbling fingers, I managed to get out of the blood-stained white dress and into a sandy-colored, long-sleeved dress. He changed out of the long white robe he had been wearing.
My mind was starting to feel clearer; the effects of the drugged tea were wearing off. He turned to face me and smiled. “That’s better. We won’t draw too much attention,” he said as he picked up a piece of fabric from the floor. “Wear this scarf.”
He tossed the scarf to me. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked helplessly.
Sighing, he took it back. “Good thing I have older sisters. They used to make me help them with tying theirs.” Deftly, he put the scarf on my head and wrapped my hair up in its folds.
I looked up to thank him and our eyes met. He stared down into my face. “My name is Jannik. What is yours?”
“Dani,” I said, staring back at him.
“Dani,” he said as put his hand softly on my shoulder, “listen, we’re leaving here. The men who were shooting are Jewish nationalists. They’ve been against the peace treaty since our leaders signed it over three years ago. The Global Union army must be on its way. They’ll have this place on lockdown and detain anyone who’s suspicious. Since you didn’t participate in the ceremony, it might make you a target. I’m assuming you don’t have any official papers to be here?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Do you know what happened?”
“A terrible thing happened, and somehow, you were spared by God. I was one of the attendants in the Holy of Holies when the President and Angelo Cain entered. It’s totally forbidden; but in they came. We were all shocked to hear Cain call Bellomo the Promised One and were even more shocked that they would dare come into the Holy of Holies!
“In the peace treaty between the Global Union and Israel, the GU promised it would not mess with the Temple. We should have known when they demanded their ceremony take place in the courtyard . . .”
Jannik’s voice trailed off as we both heard a scream, and he stopped talking for a moment.
His voice cracked as he continued talking. “Before we knew what was going on, they slaughtered the women before the altar. I think they were human sacrifices for President Bellomo!” His hand trembled as he ran his fingers through his hair. He was clearly shaken.
“What?” I gasped. No wonder they drugged us. No one would have fought back.
“One of the Temple priests grabbed a gun from one of the president’s guards and shot the president in the head. It was all chaos from there.”
Just then, we heard sirens. Jannik took my hand and pulled me along behind him to a door that led outside to the street. I followed him out the door, through cobbled streets filled with scrambling people. I’d never seen so many people in one place before. Jannik took my hand in his and led me like a child. The air was hot and heavy.
The city seemed so ancient, the stone streets and walls, the narrow alleys. Finally, we turned into an empty street; the walls on either side were so close, I thought I could touch both sides, but I didn’t want to let go of Jannik’s hand.
I desperately needed a hand to hold.
“This apartment belongs to a friend of mine. He’s in Tel Aviv visiting his parents. He gave me a key, so I could water his plants, get the mail . . . he won’t mind if we stay here.” Jannik gave my hand a tug, “It’s just up here.”
We walked up a flight of stairs to an oval green door. I waited while Jannik fished a key out of one of his pockets and opened the door.
I walked in and was amazed by the coolness of the apartment. Jannik remarked that it had air conditioning. The spacious main room had two couches and in between was a strange piece of furniture. It stood on four legs and had a large, curved box set on top of it. Walking over, I touched one of the black and white rectangular buttons on it and jumped at the sound it made.
“We probably shouldn’t play the piano. Don’t want to attract any attention from the neighbors,” Jannik warned. He led me into the kitchen. I had never seen anything like it. I ran my hand along the sleek, grey countertop. Jannik handed me a glass of water.
“I don’t get it,” I said to Jannik. “Why did you help me out of that place? Why bring me here?”
He looked down at me and smiled. “I don’t know . . . I recognized the robe you were wearing. All of the others who wore those robes were killed, but somehow, you escaped. I couldn’t let you die like they did.”
“And you’re still helping me.” I smiled up at him, his dark eyes seemed friendly, but I wondered what he wanted. I knew better than to trust people. Still, he seemed sincere.
There were some stools in front of the counter. “Why don’t we sit and talk?” Jannik suggested. “I’m sure you’re as freaked out as I am, if not more!”
We sat down. I took a sip of the water. I felt disconnected.
“Where did you come from?” Jannik asked. “Obviously, you’re not Israeli!”
There was something about Jannik, something warm, which reminded me of Daphne. Without thinking, I told him the whole story—about the Compound and how I’d run away, about Tomas and his betrayal, and about the creatures.
“Interesting,” he remarked when I described how I escaped being stung. “There are many here in Jerusalem who also were not stung, myself included. No one is certain why.”
He reached over to a basket full of apples on the counter and offered me one. I bit into the crispy juiciness and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. As we ate the apples, I told him about Mitch and Sierra and how I ended up in Jerusalem.
“It’s obvious God has been protecting you,” he commented earnestly.
“Someone is for sure. Do you have family here?” I asked, interested to know more about him.
“No,” he
shook his head. “They were in Alexandria on business.” His dark eyes looked pained.
“What happened in Alexandria?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. By the look on his face, I knew it couldn’t be good. I listened in horror as Jannik described the events of the previous week. Demonic monsters, different than the scorpion creatures but equally violent, had attacked many of the largest cities in the world, including Alexandria, where his parents were.
“There were millions and millions of them. My mother actually sent me a video of them approaching their hotel. Look.” Jannik pulled a phone out of his back pocket, clicked on it a couple of times, and held it up.
I watched thousands of horse-like black creatures, with heads like those of lions. Unbelievably, fire and yellow smoke poured out of their vicious mouths. They wore red and purple armor. On their backs were other creatures, like men in formbut not men, wearing the same colors as the horses. As I watched, the people fleeing the creatures were overcome by the yellow smoke and fire. Many could be heard screaming in agony and crying out to God for mercy.
“There are other creatures?” I whispered. “Will they come here?”
“I don’t know,” Jannik replied doubtfully. “There were other videos taken by other people; I watched so many of them looking for any sign of what happened to my parents. I hoped they escaped, but after the attacks were over, neither one answered their phone. I’ve imagined them suffering over and over.” His voice cracked and tears ran down his face.
I didn’t know what to do. “I’m so sorry,” I told him, hoping my sympathetic presence would give even a small amount of comfort to my new friend.
“My parents were believers, but it didn’t save them.”
“Believers?” I asked quizzically.
“Yes, in President Bellomo. They believed he was the Promised One, the Messiah. We argued all the time about it. They were in Alexandria to take part in a special service for those who were committing their lives to him.”
“You don’t believe he’s the Promised One?” I wanted to distract him from his grief over his parents’ deaths.
“No, I believe the two Witnesses. My parents hated them . . . absolutely despised them. The arguments were tearing us apart. I stayed here with my friend a lot these past few months. It was getting really bad at home.” Jannik got up and threw away our apple cores and washed his hands before sitting back down.
“I only know a little about the Witnesses,” I ventured. “I heard they have supernatural power over rain.”
He nodded. “To be honest, most people here hate them. They preach every day in various places in Jerusalem. No one can touch them. They claim to speak for God, and they often predict judgments before they happen. They warned about the creatures that killed my parents. I warned them, but they went anyway.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” I reached my hand out to cover his.
He smiled at me for the first time, deep dimples creasing his cheeks, “Let’s get you settled.” Jannik led me out of the kitchen and down a short hallway.
“Here is the guest room. You can stay in here. It has a bathroom of its own, so you’ll be more comfortable.” Jannik opened the door, revealing a small bedroom. The bed was tucked under a small window covered with black bars. Bars on the windows. My heart started racing. I stepped back into the hallway and ran for the front door.
“Wait, wait!” Jannik ran after me and got to the door first.
“Let me out,” I demanded.
“You have nowhere to go, Dani. I want to help you. What’s wrong?”
“There are bars on the window in that room.” I glared at him furiously.
“Dani, look around this living room. There are bars on every window.”
I glanced over the room and felt like an idiot. “Oh.”
Jannik ran his hand through his hair. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?” he suggested. “I need to figure out what to do next.”
FLOOD
Chapter 22
Now the whole world had one language and a common speech. As the people moved eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there . . . they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to heaven, so that we may make a name for ourselves.”
Genesis 11:1–2, 4
When he woke up, Noah was furious. He cursed Ham’s son so angrily, he frothed at the mouth. Ham and Taina had already packed up all of their belongings and moved into the ark, away from the entire family. The family felt fractured, and I missed Taina. I couldn’t imagine her taking care of her son all alone. I don’t know if it was shame that kept Ham and his family away, but we rarely saw them as the years passed.
Our family grew and life got busy. Nua and I were blessed with many children. Japheth built a home for our family in the valley, not too far from the original home in the cave. Shem and Nua also built a home near ours. Noah and Laelah built a small home closer to the mountain. All of us worked together, expanding the fields and herds of cattle, sheep, and goats.
The years quickly passed. Our children grew and married—often first or second cousins at first—and had their own children, and the family expanded greatly. Some of our children found husbands and wives among Ham and Taina’s descendants. Many times, the family was blessed with twins or even triplets. From the eight of us who walked off the ark, we were creating a new world, and it was expanding faster than we imagined. Decades turned into centuries.
Learning from Laelah, I grew into a skilled midwife. I was present at hundreds of births, often called in the middle of the night to aid in difficult deliveries. Laelah and I developed tinctures, remedies, and tools to soothe mothers and bring babies safely into the world. With each new birth, I was filled with hope. We were fulfilling the mandate of the Creator to fill the earth.
Noah was careful to record each birth, just as his father, Lamech had before him. The family records were kept in the special chest that had been placed securely on the ark, the same chest that held the garments the Creator made for the First Ones.
One night, when I was up late tending to one of my grandchildren while his mother slept, I saw the light on in Noah’s house and was surprised he was still awake. Taking the baby with me, I went over. I knocked on the door. Noah invited me in, smiling at the little one.
“Please have a seat,” he said. He was sitting at a table, with the family records spread in front of him. Those records were kept on carefully prepared animal skins and meticulously documented.
“Would you like to see the records?” he asked. Eagerly, I sat down and listened as he traced the family lineage all the way back to Adam, the son of God. I was reminded that Noah’s father had been born during Adam’s lifespan. It was so long ago, but it felt recent, knowing that Noah’s father had known Adam. I asked Noah to talk about it.
“Adam lived near our homestead. Of course, by then, many had turned away from following the Creator, as you know. According to my grandfather, Methuselah, it was Adam’s influence that kept our family from following the ways of the Nephilim.” Noah looked thoughtful. He pushed the parchment toward me. “If you look here at the first names, many were written by Adam himself!”
I was reminded what a privilege it was that I even knew how to read the parchments. In the days before the Flood, under the Magistrate’s rule, women had been denied that privilege. Mother had secretly taught me herself, as she had learned from her mother before her. I studied the ancient parchments before me and traced the family line with my finger.
“Methuselah learned much from Adam, and passed it on to me. I have written my own notes.” He pulled out some more parchments from a box on the bench next to him then unrolled the scroll he had pulled out. “Adam and Eve both were instrumental in teaching each generation about the Creator. Nine generations of our family lived together west of Eden. We stayed away from the cities and followed the Old Ways.”
It frightened me a little that in only a few generations, things could go so terribly wrong. I thought of
the little one in my lap and hoped we had created a better world for our descendants. I wonder if Ham and Taina are teaching their family about the Creator? I thought to myself.
Noah pushed the scroll he’d pulled out toward me. “You can read what Methuselah told me here. I transcribed his words.”
Again, I took the scroll and read it eagerly. There was the story of the creation of the man and woman and the serpent’s successful tempting them to violate the one rule the Creator had given them. I felt a twinge when I read how they had strung leaves together to cover up their nakedness. How naturally we all tried to cover up our misdeeds. But the Creator had stepped in and truly covered their nakedness by sacrificing an animal and making its skin into clothing for the man and the woman.
I looked up at Noah. “Those are the same skins that are stored in the chest, are they not? Ham thinks the skins have some kind of power. Is that because they were made by the Creator himself?”
Noah laughed scornfully. “They have value because they were made by the Creator, but no power in and of themselves. The Nephilim believed they have power because they listened to the lies of the evil one. From the beginning, he has sowed hatred and evil among the sons of Adam. Unfortunately, there have been many who turned from the Creator and allowed those attributes to take root in their souls.”
I thought about the impressive cities destroyed in the Flood, all of those people now drowned. “You said that God regretted making men and women, Noah. Why allow us to survive?”
“Remember that the lineage of many humans had been tainted by the Nephilim. I preached to the people for many, many years, but they repeatedly turned to the Nephilim. All of the faithful were going to come onto the ark with us, but they were murdered.” I shuddered, remembering the horrible scene on the field that day. “Indeed, it was the incredible violence and evil in humanity which made the Creator condemn it.”