Decker nodded again, recalling the narrow Siq through which he had entered Petra.
“Originally,” Rhoda explained, “Petra and the area around it were inhabited by the Edomites, the descendants of Jacob’s twin brother Esau, who was also called Edom. Later, sometime around the third or fourth century B.C., Petra was settled by the Nabataeans, who were wealthy nomadic Bedouins who traded between Arabia and the Mediterranean. The city served as their capitol for four hundred years. At one point more than a quarter million Nabataeans lived here. Petra provided them with security and an abundant water supply and became the crossroads of the trade routes linking Syria to the Red Sea and India to the Gulf and the Mediterranean.
“In the first century, Petra became a part of the Roman province of Syria. As the trade routes changed to favor Rome, Petra went into gradual decline, and by the time of the Crusades, the city was an uninhabited ruin. If you can make the climb, you can see the remains of three forts the Crusaders built when they occupied Petra in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. When they left, the city was totally uninhabited. Soon its location was entirely forgotten and it survived only as legend — a sort of Arabian version of Troy,” she said.
Then turning her attention to her son, she asked, “And how do we know about Troy?”
“From Homer’s Iliad,” Decker Donafin answered briskly, pleased to be able to show off his education.
“What about now?” Decker asked, making a sweeping motion across the panorama with his hand. “Tell me about Petra today.”
“Oh,” Rhoda said, adjusting her temporal perspective. “Well, the book of Revelation says that in the last half of the Tribulation, God would provide a place of protection for Israel in the wilderness.[120] As for the accommodations,” she said referring to the tens of thousands of tents arrayed before them, “you probably know we Jews have been practicing for this for thousands of years.[121] God promised us an ample supply of water—” Rhoda paused and pointed out the Ain Musa, the waterway that provided most of the water to Petra “—and trees.[122] And of course you’ve seen the manna every morning.”
Decker nodded.
Rhoda shrugged as she admitted, “He never promised to give us variety, though. That part we’ve provided for ourselves with our gardens. Of course, it’s God who makes the seeds grow. We do our part and he does what only he can do. The gardens give us something to do, too,” she added. “It can get a little monotonous around here after a while.”
“You said God would provide a place of protection. Protection from what?” Decker asked.
“From Christopher, of course.”
Decker wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation in front of the boy, but neither did he want to remain silent and allow him to think Christopher was to be feared. “The KDP really has you convinced that Christopher is your enemy.”
“It’s not just what the KDP says,” Rhoda answered. “It’s what the Bible says.”
Decker wasn’t going to try to argue the Bible with her. He sighed and continued looking over the camp. “Are all the people here Christians, followers of the KDP?”
“No, actually most are not believers in Yeshua, though they will be soon. They’re Jews who have come here because they found the KDP to be a not-so-evil ally and because Petra offers refuge from the greater enemy: Christopher and the United Nations.”
“So just exactly how long do you and they plan on staying here?”
“Not much longer,” she answered. “In September Christopher will bring the armies of the world against us. Then Yeshua will return to destroy him.”
Decker shook his head in sheer frustration. “I assure you,” he said, no longer willing to let the matter pass, “that Christopher has no intention of sending troops to Petra.”
“That will soon change.”
“And what if it doesn’t?” he prodded as an idea occurred to him. “What if Christopher doesn’t attack Petra in September?”
“He will,” Rhoda said confidently.
“But what if he doesn’t?” he insisted.
“But he will. There’s no question about it.”
No words left his mouth, but it was clear he was unwilling to settle for Rhoda’s answer.
“Well, then I suppose,” Rhoda said reluctantly, “and this is just being hypothetical: If Christopher doesn’t march on Petra in September, then we will have been wrong.”
“And then you’ll leave Petra?”
“I’m telling you that won’t happen,” she said shaking her head. “But yes, I suppose many would leave Petra,” she conceded grudgingly.
“Well, then, I’ll see you and your family in Babylon in October.” Then turning to the boy he quizzed: “Do you like sushi? I know a great sushi restaurant near my office.”
Decker Donafin made a face suggesting he didn’t think so.
“If we see each other in October,” Rhoda answered, “it won’t be in Babylon. It’ll be in Jerusalem.”
He studied Rhoda’s expression for some clue. “Why Jerusalem?” he asked at last.
“Where else would you expect Yeshua to establish his kingdom?”
Decker laughed. “Oh, you mean if I convert.”
“Of course,” Rhoda smiled.
“So you think there’s still hope for me?”
“There’s always hope, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said. “Scott Rosen says that you’re a pretty tough customer, but then so was Tom.” Then she allowed, “Of course, Tom never punched anybody about it.”
Decker smiled again, but he wanted to keep on topic. “I’ll admit Rosen tells a convincing story,” he said. “He knows his subject. But there are two things that neither he nor you, nor anyone else can explain away or justify, no matter how you might try. The first is the death and destruction caused by John and Cohen, and the second is the murder of innocent men and women by the fundamentalists at the communion clinics.”
“I can assure you, those responsible for what happened at the clinics are not the fundamentalists,” Rhoda responded. “Yes, Christians do try to peacefully block the entrances and talk people out of receiving the mark, but they certainly have not been responsible for the killings.”
“Then who?” Decker pressed.
“Christopher and the UN. They did it to create hysteria and hatred of Christians and of Yahweh,” Rhoda answered emphatically.
“And the eyewitnesses?”
“If Christopher can find people to do the bombings, then surely he can also come up with witnesses.”
“I suppose,” Decker said, his words granting the hypothetical possibility but his voice making it clear that he didn’t for one moment believe the proposition.
“And even if the witnesses aren’t officially being put up to it by the UN, then certainly they are unofficially,” she asserted.
“Meaning what?”
“Have you listened to what the media says about the fundamentalists, not to mention what’s on the internet? They make it sound like we’re subhuman. Some of the people who claim to be eyewitnesses probably feel like they’re doing the world a big favor to help get rid of the Christians.”
“I admit that some have let their emotions get away from them,” Decker granted.
“They sound remarkably like what the Nazis said about the Jews in World War II,” Rhoda responded.
“You can’t blame Christopher or the United Nations for what the media says or what people say on the internet,” Decker insisted.
“Maybe not, but I would think that anyone as caring as you claim Christopher is would make some attempt to dispute what’s being said. He’d never stand for charges like that against any other minority, would he? Why should he ignore it when it’s the fundamentalists?”
Decker wanted to respond but he wasn’t sure he had an answer. Perhaps Rhoda had a point. Perhaps some of the fault was even his own. “I think people just find your beliefs so exclusive and narrow minded,” he offered in defense.
“It’s really just the opposite, Mr. Hawthorne. Woul
d it be narrow-minded to say that there’s only one thing that everyone must breathe?” she said, drawing on the words Saul Cohen once used when speaking to her husband, “I know you’ll say, ‘Air is available to everyone.’ But so is God, Mr. Hawthorne. The Bible says that God has placed knowledge of himself inside each of us.[123] This isn’t a treasure hunt, where the prize goes only to the lucky or the shrewd, or a game show where you have to choose the god behind door number one, door number two, or door number three. Inside each of us, we already know which is the right door. God calls to us and tells us what he’s like, who he is, and where to find him. We may not know his name, but we know his nature, we know his call, and we can witness his power throughout the universe. But it’s up to each of us individually to decide whether we’ll answer God’s call. The bottom line, Mr. Hawthorne, is this: God is, God loves, and God can be found.”
Rhoda was obviously finished but Decker remained silent, not wanting to argue the subject further.
“I have patients I need to see,” she said when it became apparent that Decker wasn’t going to respond. “If you’d like, you and Decker can continue to explore. We’ll be having dinner just after sunset.”
“Sure,” Decker responded. “We’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” she said, and then addressed the younger Decker. “Take it easy. Don’t wear Mr. Hawthorne out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered politely as his mother gave him a kiss and then turned to leave.
“So, it’s just you and me,” Decker said when Rhoda had gone. “Where do you want to start?”
“Can we go to the Lion Monument?” the younger asked.
“You bet!” the elder responded enthusiastically, unaware of the climb that awaited them.
The two Deckers walked and climbed and explored for the rest of the afternoon. Inside one of the carved-out tunnels that connected two adjacent facades, they had to feel their way along through nearly pitch black. The elder Decker felt the younger brush against and then take his hand. “Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked.
“My mom says there’s no reason to be afraid because Yeshua is always with me,” the younger answered. “Are you afraid?”
“A little.”
“Yeah, me too,” Decker Donafin admitted. “A little.”
“Let’s go somewhere else, then.”
Decker Donafin nodded, but of course Decker Hawthorne couldn’t see it.
After visiting a few more sites, the elder Decker finally insisted that they stop to take a break. Half sitting, half leaning, they rested against an outcropping of stone below Ad Dier (the Monastery). For a few moments neither spoke — the elder because he was catching his breath, the younger because he had something on his mind — and then Decker Donafin broke the silence.
“I think I remember my dad pretty well,” he said. “But sometimes the others talk about him and it’s something I don’t remember at all.” At last it had come to the surface — the one thing that had never left either of their minds throughout their time together. In everything they had done that day the memories had filled their thoughts, and yet, neither had mentioned it. Everything the younger Decker did or said had either reminded the elder of his old friend or caused him to note where the father and son differed. With equal attention the younger had observed the elder and wondered how much this man for whom he had been named was like the father he now struggled to remember.
“I miss him a lot.”
“I miss him, too,” the elder said.
“My mom says he was a good man and that he loved God. She says we’ll see him again soon when Yeshua returns.”
Decker wasn’t sure how to respond. “He was a good friend,” he managed after a moment.
“Mom said you were with him when he died.”
“Yes,” Decker answered. It was a gruesome memory and he hoped the boy wouldn’t ask him more about it. He need not have worried; Decker Donafin had no intention of asking for the details. After a moment, Decker looked down to see tears in the boy’s eyes. He hesitated and then leaned down to hug him. Decker Donafin put his arms around him as the tears flowed.
That evening after supper, Decker again entertained the Donafin children with old stories of nearly forgotten adventures and misadventures he had with Tom. A few of the stories Rhoda had heard before from Tom, but Decker’s slightly different telling made her wonder if either man remembered the events as they had actually occurred. The stories didn’t go on nearly so long as the night before, as first young Decker and then Tom and Rachael fell asleep. Once again, Rhoda and Decker left the tent to talk a while longer.
“You’ll be leaving tomorrow?” Rhoda asked.
“First thing in the morning,” he answered.
“You’re welcome to stay in Petra,” Rhoda said. “All that waits for you outside is death.”
Decker shook his head. “Tell Decker good-bye for me.”
“You’ll probably have an opportunity to do that yourself,” she said. “He’s an early riser. I expect he’ll want to see you before you leave.”
Decker nodded. “I’d like that.”
That night Decker lay awake thinking about the events of the past few days. He no longer thought much about whether he would get back to Babylon alive. Now his thoughts centered on young Decker and Rhoda and the rest of the Donafin family. He thought also of the others in Petra who lay crammed together, huddled in confused and misguided fear of what was happening in the outside world. As long as he had thought of them as simply followers of the KDP, he could ignore the fact that they were people. Now he knew better: He had seen them face to face, had talked with them, and felt he was beginning to understand them. He was ashamed that it had taken being kidnapped for him to realize it. Even Scott Rosen, for all his faults, was only doing what he thought best. Decker wasn’t sure how, but he was determined that he would find a way to reach these people, to let them know that Christopher was not their enemy, and that what Christopher promised the world was not to be feared, but welcomed.
On the plane to Jerusalem after his resurrection, Christopher had said that Decker’s role would be to communicate his message to those unfamiliar with the concepts of the New Age. But that was more than three years ago and the job was nearly complete. Christopher’s message of the evolution of Humankind was known throughout the world. Eighty-seven percent of the population had already received the communion and the mark. It had not occurred to him before, but as Decker considered it all now, he realized that he had nearly worked himself out of a job.
He needed something to do while he waited for Elizabeth to remember him, and now there was a new mission, a new job to do: to persuade even those who were Christopher’s opponents. And ironically, it was Scott Rosen who had given Decker the means to effect that conversion. Rosen had told him of the calamities that were soon to be visited upon the Earth, and both Rosen and Rhoda had stated their belief that Christopher would respond by assembling an army to march on Petra. In large part it was a self fulfilling prophecy. Faced with renewed devastation, Christopher would be forced to strike at the agents of Yahweh who precipitated the devastation. But if Decker could alter the events predicted by the KDP, even slightly, then the KDP and their followers would have to admit they were wrong. And if they were wrong about one thing, then they could be wrong about other things as well. The KDP’s claim to inerrancy made their hold on the people very tight, but it also made it very brittle. Like a house of cards, it was necessary only to remove one card — to cause one of their prophecies to fail — and the whole structure would collapse.
Knowing what the KDP planned might allow Christopher to initiate countermeasures to avert or limit the plagues they predicted. Even if all the calamities Rosen spoke of did strike the Earth, it was still possible to turn this around. Instead of assembling an army to march on Petra for war, Christopher could send a peace envoy or simply do nothing at all. In this way he could short circuit the prophecy, prevent it from coming true, and show his true face as peacemaker ins
tead of the demonic beast the KDP made him out to be.
As Decker nodded off to sleep, he realized that being kidnapped was only a ploy of fate, which, as it had so many times before, was again putting Decker in the right place at the right time. There could be no doubt that the real reason he had been brought to Petra was so that he would come to know and understand these people and through this experience, find a way to convince them of the truth about Yahweh and Christopher.
“Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Wake up, Mr. Hawthorne, it’s time to go.”
Decker opened his eyes and looked around the room. As he twisted his body and shifted his weight to sit up, the ropes that bound his hands and feet slipped off like oversized gloves and shoes.
“It’s time to go, Mr. Hawthorne,” the voice of a young boy said again.
Decker rubbed his eyes and looked toward the voice. He was no longer in Petra; he was back in Lebanon, a hostage of the Hizballah. There in the open doorway of his room stood Christopher Goodman, now fourteen years old.
“Christopher?” Decker asked, completely confused at this turn of events.
“Yes, Mr. Hawthorne,” Christopher answered.
“What are you doing here?” Decker asked in disbelief.
“It’s time to go. I’ve come to get you,” he replied, making no attempt to explain.
Christopher walked from the room and signaled for him to follow. Decker didn’t understand, but quickly lifted the 115 pounds that remained of his body and followed Christopher from the room and toward the front door. Halfway there, he stopped. There was something he was trying to remember, something too important to forget, something he couldn’t leave behind.
“Tom!” he said suddenly. “Where’s Tom?” he asked of the friend he hadn’t seen since they were brought to Lebanon.
Christopher hesitated and then raised his arm slowly and pointed toward another door. Silently, Decker opened it, looking for any sign of his captors. There was none. Inside, Tom lay sleeping on a mat with his face to the wall. Decker entered and quickly began untying the bonds that held his friend’s feet.
The Christ Clone Trilogy - Book Three: ACTS OF GOD (Revised & Expanded) Page 16