by Dan Sofer
“Hey, kid,” the conductor called to him, breaking his trance. “Time to get off.”
The train had reached the end of the line and the last passengers had alighted.
Time to get off. To Ahmed’s ears, the words had emanated from Heaven.
He stepped off the train and into a new world. The old Ahmed had committed terrible crimes and swallowed lies; he had not been worthy of Samira’s smile. That Ahmed had died.
He left the Old City walls behind, passed through the City of David, and descended into the Kidron Valley. Silwan rose above him in the night, lights glimmering in the windows of the chaotic apartment blocks and houses.
He climbed the rocky hillside and crawled into the cool emptiness of the old tomb. Turning on a plastic flashlight, he extracted his arms from the straps and placed the explosive belt on the vacant shelf.
Then he left the cave and made for the trash heap at the edge of Silwan. Picking a trail through the fresh refuse, he chewed a crust of stale pita bread and spotted a discarded pizza box. When a tin can tinkled nearby, he turned and pointed his flashlight. The light revealed neither Damas nor the Rottweiler, but a young man in ragged clothes.
He shielded his eyes with a grimy forearm. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said in Arabic. The man sounded about Ahmed’s age. “I’m just hungry.”
Ahmed lowered the flashlight to the man’s torn jeans, just another wretched soul scavenging for food. At least he wasn’t alone.
“I’m Dara,” the man said, his voice hungry for conversation too. “What’s your name?”
Ahmed considered the question. “You can start life anew every day,” the rabbi at the Dry Bones Society had taught. Now was as good a time as any.
“Walid,” he said. The word meant newborn. “My name is Walid.”
CHAPTER 91
As the light turned green, Eli pulled back on the throttle, and the Harley Davidson surged forward. Once again, he was back in the saddle and racing to anoint a messiah, but this time everything was different.
He made sure to wear his helmet, for starters, and traffic lights no longer gave him preferential treatment. Doubts plagued him, both about the target and the success of his mission. Without the Thin Voice, he was flying blind.
Strangely, none of this troubled him. On the contrary, the uncertainty exhilarated him. His sudden optimism had something to do with the pretty young scientist who clung to his waist. He might be flying blind, but he was not flying alone. He and Noga would figure it out.
They had to—the fate of billions depended on them, and humanity was worth saving.
He pulled up outside a minimarket on Emek Refaim, and purchased a rectangular bottle of Yad Mordechai virgin olive oil. The Machaneh Yehuda market closed at nightfall and his home olive press would take too long. This time he would not stand on protocol. Maybe this time, he’d finally get it right.
Anointing oil checked off the list, they zipped up their riding jackets, put on their helmets, and sped off into the night. Eli had looked up the address on the Internet. He made a left into Yehuda Street before diving into suburban Baka.
When he turned into Shimshon Street, however, he squeezed the brakes. Black SUVs with tinted windows blocked the street and straddled the sidewalks. Men in black suits with close-cropped hair, earpieces, and hi-tech machine guns cast suspicious looks at the clump of curious neighbors and camera crews that gawked from a safe distance.
Eli parked on the sidewalk and stowed his helmet on the bike. Noga did the same. Then, hand in hand, holding a laptop and a bottle of oil, they walked down the street.
A black suit stared them down. “This area is off limits,” he said, his tone not allowing for negotiation.
“We need to speak with Mr. Moshe Karlin,” Eli said. “It’s urgent.”
The agent asked for their identity cards and told them to stand back while he radioed in their details.
Noga met Eli’s glance. He knew what she was thinking: What were the chances that the Prime Minister–elect would let them in? Their names still meant nothing to him.
Eli drew a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on the muscle at the center of his brain. Flex. Let us through. Flex. Moshe Karlin will understand. Flex!
The guard handed back their cards. “You’re not on the list. On your way.”
Eli’s attempt at Jedi mind control had failed.
“But we have an urgent message for him,” Noga said.
The agent nodded toward the crowd of onlookers. “So do they. Now move along.” He tightened his grip on the handle of his gun.
Eli touched her shoulder and she relented. They turned back toward the bike. So close and yet so far.
“What do we do now?” she said.
He understood how she felt. Frustration had been his staple meal for centuries. But this time would be different. This time the Redemption would arrive. It had to. God alone knew for sure, and He was keeping His cards close to His chest.
“Simple,” Eli said, pumping his voice with a confidence he did not feel, at least not yet. “We’ll have to get on that list.”
CHAPTER 92
A week later, Moshe found himself on a cream armchair in an office lined with bookshelves and jammed with reporters and clicking cameras.
The President of the State of Israel, a red-faced, white-haired man, filled the other armchair. Through thick reading glasses, he squinted at the fancy document set on blue velvet in his hand, and recited the formal declaration with some hesitation and intonations of disbelief.
Moshe shared his sentiments. On his first visit to the President’s Residence on Ha’Nasi Street, the president was appointing him to form the next government of the State of Israel.
In another life, the achievement would have overjoyed him. Today, Moshe would have preferred to avoid the limelight. Reaching for the stars seemed like a good idea until you got burned. But now he had no choice.
The president signed at the bottom of the declaration, they shook hands, and they smiled for the cameras. The president leaned in. “Good luck,” he said and smirked. “You’re going to need it.”
“Not luck,” Moshe whispered back. “I need a miracle.”
They chuckled and patted each other on the shoulder.
Galit, looking fantastic in a new white evening dress, waited in the entrance hall among the Members of Knesset and reporters—a delectable lamb among the wolves. She smiled up at him, her lipstick glistening, and brushed a speck of dust from his suit jacket, which she had helped pick out along with the silk tie in stately blue.
He had recovered from their ordeal on Election Day and no longer flinched at her touch. The memory of his death had hurt him to the core, and he supposed their relationship would never quite be the same, but he couldn’t blame her. Avi had deceived her—he had testified to that himself—and, for a change, his old friend had brought Moshe and Galit closer.
The time had come for healing. Healing and forgiveness. To accept the past and look to the future.
“Ready to conquer the world?” she asked.
He took her arm in his. “One small country is more than enough.”
They made for the garden and passed a rotund man with a bad comb-over, who made a conspicuous point of turning his back to them.
Moshe tapped him on the shoulder. “No hard feelings?”
Isaac Gurion swiveled, his bloodshot eyes flashing like angry daggers. Recovering quickly, the older politician shook Moshe’s hand but bared his teeth as he smiled. “None at all.” He seemed to be trying to crush Moshe’s hand in his meaty grip.
“Remember,” Moshe added, “it isn’t personal; it’s just politics.” And he left the career politician snarling on the carpet.
A podium with microphones waited for Moshe at the edge of the garden, as did a healthy crowd of dignitaries and members of the press.
Moshe extracted cue cards from the inner pocket of his jacket, while an aide adjusted the microphone.
“Feeling grateful
and humbled,” Moshe said, “I accepted the president’s appointment today. My heartfelt thanks go to those who made this moment possible: our team at Restart, my wonderful wife and daughter, and of course, you—the people of our beloved state. I will do everything in my power to serve as prime minister for all citizens, even those who opposed me. Thank you.”
He opened the floor to questions.
The aide selected one of the raised hands and a weasel of a reporter stood. “Seeing that you have no political experience, Mr. Prime Minister–elect, were you surprised by the president’s appointment to form the government?”
Moshe had expected snide questions, but he did not reply in kind, resolving to behave with the dignity worthy of his new role. “Not really,” he said. “Restart received the majority of the seats in Knesset. The president didn’t have much of a choice.” His remark won a few laughs from the crowd.
From among the faces in the packed garden, Reverend Adams gave him the thumbs-up and winked. Moshe responded with a subtle nod. One day, his wealthy backer would call in his favors.
And not only him. Moshe scanned the crowd for a bald head and hooked nose, and prayed that Mandrake’s thugs had not slipped past the security detail. You’re mine, Mandrake had said. Your life belongs to me! The mafia boss had revived Moshe and let him slip away. From their encounter Moshe had drawn two conclusions: resurrected people can die; and, sooner or later, Mandrake would return with his own demands of the new prime minister.
Another reporter stood. “With sixty-one seats in Knesset, are you going to form—for the first time in our history—a single-party government?”
“No, that’s not my intention. We need to work together to meet the challenges ahead. I call upon the leaders of all parties to join our unity government and work with us to build a brighter future for all. Thank you very much.”
He took Galit by the hand and followed Alon, the head of his security detail, to the waiting cavalcade, where another secret service agent held the door of a black SUV.
They climbed inside.
“That went smoothly,” Galit said, as the car pulled off and the world passed by their window.
“Yes it did. Let’s hope that’s a sign for the future. Where to now?”
“Dr. Klein.”
“Right.” Dr. Klein. The cardiologist. One advantage to being prime minister–elect, Moshe discovered, was the ease with which specialists became available on short notice.
The SUV, one of five identical vehicles in the cavalcade, pulled off.
Another advantage was the security detail that stood between his family and organized crime. Moshe had better make sure he stayed in office.
People lined the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of their new prime minister. Some waved Israeli flags and streamers; others hefted signs of protest. One placard read, “Undead Stay Dead.” Among the crowds stood a vaguely familiar man with a long stately beard and what appeared to be a white DBS spa gown.
Moshe’s invitation to the party leaders was sincere, and not just because he needed their political experience. As the shock waves of the Resurrection rippled through the country, tensions grew. Never mind forming a government, he’d be lucky to avoid civil war.
“Look,” Galit said. She pointed to a large clump of demonstrators in white robes and headdresses. The large banner over their heads displayed an abstract portrait of Moshe and the words, “Welcome, King Messiah!”
Moshe swallowed hard. “Talk about high expectations,” he said.
Moshe wasn’t the Messiah. At least, he didn’t think he was. He would have known if he was. Did he even believe in a messiah? Until recently, he hadn’t believed in a resurrection either.
Galit squeezed his hand. “Piece of cake,” she said.
Moshe laughed and shook his head. He didn’t know about that.
Messiah or not, the time had come to get to work.
AUTHOR NOTES
I hope you enjoyed An Accidental Messiah. The third book in the series (releasing in 2018) will put all the pieces together in an explosive finale.
As always, your reviews on Amazon help other readers discover my work, and this allows me to spend less time (and money) on marketing and more time on writing the next book.
So if you enjoyed An Accidental Messiah and you'd like to get the next book sooner, please take a few moments to review An Accidental Messiah on Amazon.
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Thanks a bunch and have a great day.
~ Dan Sofer
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Book III: A Premature Apocalypse
2018
Table of Contents
Titles
Copyright
Bonus Reads
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Author Notes
Bonus Reads
Coming Soon
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