Dead Sea Rising

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Awright,” Wojciechowski said. “Touching stories about all the time you’ve spent with your mom, how close you are, how you bonded with your dad over digs and all that. But what made the difference for you? What settled it for you?”

  “You’re looking for my Uncle Henryk and Aunt Lucyna moment?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Nothing quite so dramatic or sad, I’m afraid. For me it was two things: the Dead Sea and the Middle East.”

  “I love the Dead Sea!” Chakrabarti said. “My parents took me there as a child, before we moved to this country. How I would love to return someday!”

  “Huh,” Wojciechowski said. “Heard about that place but can’t imagine why anyone would wanna go. Hot, dry, full a salt, and somehow below sea level—which I’ve never been able to figure out.”

  “Oh, I can just see you there,” Chakrabarti chortled. “Can’t you, Doctor?”

  Nicole laughed. “In his suit!”

  “And below sea level is right,” Chakrabarti said. “More than fourteen hundred feet! The land around it is the lowest in the world. And the sea is almost ten times as salty as the ocean. Even as a boy, I walked out to where my feet could not reach the bottom and the water was up to my chest, and I was just standing there! It’s impossible to sink!”

  “You actually went in?” Wojciechowski said.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it! People come from all over the world to do that. My father laid on his back and read a book.”

  “But it’s called the Dead Sea ’cause all that salt kills everything, right?”

  “That’s why I find it so fascinating,” Nicole said. “The Jordan River is all that feeds it, but every day the sea evaporates millions of tons of water. The minerals left behind are in demand all over the world.”

  “Okay, I still don’t get it,” Wojciechowski said. “Sounds like some kinda ecological miracle, but it’s stuck in that god-forsaken desert and—”

  “That’s just it,” Nicole said. “My dad told me the first time he took me there that it’s not forsaken by God. In fact, he showed me the Bible prophecies that the Dead Sea—”

  “Hold on! There’s prophecy about this too?”

  “You’re going to make me show off, Detective, because I’ve memorized it.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “I’ll make this fast. That whole area was once as lush as the Garden of Eden. But you know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, right?”

  “Yeah, fire and brimstone and all that, and some guy’s wife turned to stone.”

  “She turned into a pillar of salt.”

  “That makes sense,” Wojciechowski said.

  “Well, we believe God’s judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah turned that fertile area into what we find there today. But even after thousands of years, the Dead Sea will rise again.”

  “So what’s the prophecy?”

  “Like Pranav said, we believe Jesus will return someday and rule the earth for a thousand years. During that time, the Bible says, water will flow from Jerusalem—in fact from the Temple Mount—and the Dead Sea will be full of fish.”

  “And you memorized what it says. Let’s hear it.”

  “Okay, this is from Ezekiel in the Old Testament. I can show you the exact reference—”

  “How ’bout I just take your word for it?”

  “All right, this is what it says: ‘This water flows toward the eastern region, goes down into the valley, and enters the sea. When it reaches the sea, its waters are healed. And it shall be that every living thing that moves, wherever the rivers go, will live. There will be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters go there; for they will be healed, and everything will live wherever the river goes.’”

  “That’s thrilling, isn’t it?” Chakrabarti said.

  “If you say so,” Wojciechowski said. “But I’ll say this: if that happens in my lifetime, I’ll sign up for whatever Sunday school class you’re teachin’.”

  “If it happens during your lifetime,” Chakrabarti said, “that’ll mean you became a believer and made it into the millennial kingdom.”

  “That would surprise more than a few people,” Wojciechowski said. “Me included. Okay, interesting place and all that—musta been really somethin’ when you first saw it. How old were you?”

  “I was eleven,” Chakrabarti said.

  “I think that’s about how old I was when I went too,” Nicole said. “But that would have been a lot of years after Pranav was eleven.”

  “Hey!”

  “So you can’t spend your whole life studying the Dead Sea, even if that’s your thing, so—”

  “Actually, some do,” Nicole said, “but you’re right. That was just one of the catalysts for me. Digs in that whole area woke me up to all kinds of discoveries that just mesmerized me, and I’ve never lost that wonder.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I can’t get into the specifics, but here’s what happened. From when I was a young teen in the mid-’90s until after I got my PhD, I got to be a volunteer on eight digs in Israel, then was trench supervisor on digs in Syria, Israel, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia. I was then assistant archaeologist in both Iraq and Saudi Arabia, was licensed in four countries, and I’ve applied to be lead archaeologist for a dig in Mada’in, Saudi Arabia. It’s a long shot. I mean, Saudi women have only recently been allowed to drive. So the idea of a woman—an American Christian no less—being approved as a lead is some stretch.

  “The last time I dug at Mada’in, I wasn’t really assistant archaeologist. I was a little further down the pecking order from the lead, Dr. Mustafa bin-Alawi, and his assistant, Dr. Moshe Greenblatt of Hebrew University in Israel. Dr. bin-Alawi was killed in a plane crash after the dig and before he could begin writing all the follow-up documentation. Greenblatt moved up into his role for that and asked me to take his assistant spot and contribute to the writing.

  “So even though I hadn’t really been assistant archaeologist, I was credited that way. The Saudis will study my writing and hopefully overlook that technicality and allow me to leapfrog into a lead role next time.

  “But here’s why I have to get this: My team uncovered—well, I’m being falsely modest—I uncovered a rare find that could be historically pivotal. Without boring you with the details or saying more than I’m allowed to, it’s a fragment that—if I can find its other piece—could change the face of the Mideast conflict as we know it.”

  “You serious?” Wojciechowski said. “I’ve never understood what’s goin’ on over there, but it’s all you see on the news.”

  “Let’s just say my dream, my goal, is to prove that the centuries-old divide between Muslims and Jews, and ultimately Christians, is based on faulty history.”

  CHAPTER 84

  Ur

  Terah lay restless for only a little while after Ikuppi had left. He decided fatigue from such a momentous day overrode any pangs of conscience Belessunu had predicted for him. As he began to drift off, he relished the chance to tell her the next night—when he would check on her and the baby—that he had gone right to sleep. But that wasn’t entirely true. Terah’s eyes popped open when he realized that two male and two female servants would arrive at dawn as usual, and he wondered whether Mutuum would be among them.

  Surely the man couldn’t hold against him the misfortune of a chariot accident, or the actions of wild animals. Terah would stick to his story and ask Mutuum what he thought of the gifts Ikuppi had delivered from his storehouse. As long as the midwife Yadidatum upheld her end of the bargain … and how could she not with her son’s life and freedom—and hand—in the balance? Terah just hoped Ikuppi’s penitence would abate with the light of day so he wouldn’t feel compelled to waver either.

  Satisfied everything was in order, Terah quickly faded from consciousness.

  The first hint of the morning sun teased through the wood lattice of his window, and Terah could tell this was going to be one of those cloudless days—twelve hours of rele
ntless heat that sapped energy and strength from even the young and robust. It had been years since he had been either of those, though he was pleased to find he was able to pull himself up to a seated position. He could not stand on his own, however, so he simply waited, affecting a face of mourning. He had to appear overcome by the loss of his only son—sacrificed to the throne.

  When the servants knocked, Terah called out, “Come in! I need your help!”

  Wedum arrived at the bedchamber door, Belessunu’s girls behind him, whispering. “I am at your service, sir,” Wedum said. “Is that not Ikuppi’s chariot outside?”

  “He took a smaller one back last night and left that one for me. Is Mutuum with you?”

  “He waits in the cart.”

  “I did not expect him today when, as I am, he is grieving.”

  “It is kind of you to mourn with him, master. But truth be told, he is angry. His wife wants him to thank you for your efforts to save their son, but Mutuum says even seeing you will bring painful images to his mind.”

  “Tell him I understand and that he need not see me today. In fact, he can take these girls back after they have served me, as Belessunu is not here.”

  “Not here?” one of the girls said. “Why?”

  Terah beckoned Wedum close and whispered, “She has abandoned me.”

  “What?”

  “Have you not heard? The king required of us our son.”

  “These girls said you told them he wished to see Abram. But what does this mean, he required him of you? To raise as his own? Is he to honor you by making him a prince of the royal household—”

  “I fear not, Wedum. I believe he has taken Abram as a sacrifice.”

  “Oh no! Where has Belessunu gone?”

  “She would not tell me. And in my condition I was unable to stop her. She says she will never return because I gave up our son.”

  “But surely you had no choice!”

  “Of course I did not know what the king wanted with him. I assumed just to see him and rejoice with me. But when the king, a god himself, makes a request, what are mortals to do? I pray only that he and the other gods will look upon me with favor for such an offering.”

  “I am sure they will, master, but what an awful price to pay!”

  “I am bereft.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “When you tell Mutuum to take these girls back, see if he is aware of the gifts I had Ikuppi deliver last night.”

  “Oh, he is aware, master. He and his wife have already begun sharing them.”

  “Those are not to share! They are for the mourning parents.”

  “They say it’s too much—that you were too kind—and they want others to partake of them too.”

  “How generous.”

  Wedum helped Terah up, but he did not immediately assist him to the other room.

  “Was there something else, lad?”

  “Sir, there is. On our way we passed vultures circling over the wasteland, perhaps four hundred yards to the west.”

  “That’s not unusual, is it? Some animal has left the carcass of a kill for them to pick clean, no?”

  “Probably, sir. But we did not want to look.”

  “Surely this is nothing new to you, Wedum … Oh, I see. You fear it could be the remains of Mutuum’s child.”

  “Mutuum refused to look, and the girls thought it bad luck that we just rode on by. They will be reluctant to pass it again on the way back.”

  “True, master!” one of the girls said. “May we stay here until we’re sure the birds have gone?”

  “You will prepare first meal for me before leaving. And then Wedum will carry me there in the cart, and we will see if it’s anything to be concerned with.”

  “But we will have taken the cart, sir.”

  “Mutuum may use the chariot, but tell him to take it nowhere else and return it here tomorrow. Wedum and I will make do with the cart.”

  CHAPTER 85

  Vietnam

  Over the next several weeks, Ben invented reasons to get into town to see Charm. He volunteered for supply runs, miscellaneous errands, anything that would get him there, day or night. Some evenings when his shift was over, he would just sit outside the restaurant and chat with her on breaks, waiting to walk her home at the end of the night.

  One night Red and her other friends showed up, and she sat with him briefly. “We’ve missed you,” she said, but he saw amusement in her eyes. “Just take things slow, will you? Charm seems like a sweet girl, but don’t go falling in love.”

  “Too late,” he said.

  “Seriously? You’ve got it that bad already?”

  “I’ve spent an awful lot of time with her,” Ben said. “Even my CO is asking where I’ve been. I think he knows, but he has a hard time writing me up ’cause I’m such a good worker. Keeps reminding me that even when I’m in town, I’m still sort of on duty. Representing the Corps, on the alert, always armed, all that.”

  “And if the Cong attacks,” Red said, “it’s no longer ‘sort of’ on duty.”

  “Oh, I know. I used to pray something like that would happen—and I don’t even believe in God. I either go home a hero or in a bag. I was okay either way. Now I can’t say that.”

  “Because of her.”

  “Exactly. Hey, you got your camera with you?”

  “No, but one of my friends has hers.”

  “Do me a favor and get a picture of Charm tonight. She’s wearing my favorite outfit.”

  “I saw. It is beautiful. Of course, she looks good in anything. You two talked about the big stuff yet?”

  “Like …?”

  “Like you not believing in God? Most Vietnamese are pretty traditional. Lots of gods, actually.”

  “Nah, we’re pretty much on the same page with all that. Her grandparents were proud not to be Buddhist like most everyone else seemed to be, except Catholics—like the Vietnam president. They belonged to some kind of multi-god group with a funny name.”

  “Cao Đài?” Red said.

  “That’s it. They were Caodaists, believed in the best of all the major religions, something like that. Charm’s parents didn’t raise her that way. She’s more like me. We say people can believe what they want as long as they don’t force us to.”

  “You’re not dreaming about taking her home with you,” Red said. “Are you?”

  “Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind, but I don’t think I could do that to her. She has her heart set on Saigon National.”

  “The university?”

  “Yeah, pedagogical-something or other. Wants to teach young kids. Don’t think she has any interest in coming to the States.”

  “Is she sincere about that, Ben? Not going to the States?”

  He shot Red a double take. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Marine. You know a lot of girls here would love nothing more than to escape all this and reach the promised land. And if it means convincing a GI they’re madly in love and would follow him anywhere, well …”

  “Think I could sniff that out pretty quick,” Ben said. “I’m not even sure she feels about me the way I do about her. At least not yet.”

  “You’re telling me you haven’t been intimate?”

  He shrugged.

  “Ben?”

  “Not really.”

  “What does that mean? There’s no middle ground there, son.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to. We just haven’t yet, you know?”

  “You’ve spent the night with her?”

  “Twice.”

  “That’s some willpower, Ben.”

  “Tell me about it. It’s just—this is not what that is. There’s all kinds of opportunities in town if that’s what I’m after.”

  “You love her.”

  “I think I do.”

  “Well, good for you. But if she’s not coming your way, and I know you’re not staying here, the only option is a couple of broken hearts.”

  Ben
nodded. “You never know. Say we keep in touch, her circumstances change and she wants out—or Nam changes and I want to come back.”

  “How likely is that?”

  “Not very. Just saying.”

  Red appeared to become emotional and pressed a finger to her lip.

  “What?” Ben said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. You just don’t see true love that much anymore. Lord knows, I thought I was in love with my ex. I’m just happy for you, but already sad too, because the odds are so stacked against you.”

  “Hello!” Charm poked her head out of the restaurant. “Have a short break.”

  “I’ll leave you two,” Red said.

  “Get the camera,” Ben said.

  When Red returned, Ben said, “Let me get one of Charm first, then you can shoot the two of us.”

  She posed, looking shy but radiant. But after he had snapped the picture and tried to advance the film, he found the film was at the end of the roll. Red gave him the picture a few weeks later, and he tucked it into his wallet.

  CHAPTER 86

  Ur

  Once Wedum had helped him rise, Terah was encouraged to find that he was able to walk on his own but still with the aid of the crutch. The ankle remained tender and sore, but he could put a little more weight on it.

  Wedum and Mutuum tended to the livestock while Belessunu’s servant girls cooked and served Terah his meal. When they returned, Wedum reported that Mutuum had moved to the large chariot Ikuppi had left and was waiting to take the girls back. “He also wanted me to tell you, master, that he will come directly back because we should lead the sheep at least to a shady eating spot before the heat of the day makes them lie down in the sun.”

  “Do you think that is what has brought vultures?” Terah said. “Some animal succumbing to the heat?”

  “It’s possible,” Wedum said, “but that would be more likely later in the day. Should we wait until he returns to see what the vultures have flocked to?”

  “No, I am ready. And let me walk to the cart. You will have to help me in, but I can make it.”

  By the time Terah reached the cart, Mutuum had loaded the girls and taken off with the larger chariot. A huge cloud of dust rose on the road behind them. “He is not used to driving three horses, is he?” Terah said.