by Len du Randt
It’s not fair! He sobbed. He hit his fist against the bed. Why them, Lord? WHY?
Again, no reply came.
After an hour of crying he sat up. His head was still filled with questions, and he had no one to speak to. There was Trevor and René, but they were both still blinded and wouldn’t be able to see the truth, even if it hit them against the head.
‘I’m sorry, Lord,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just not as strong as I thought I’d be...’
It was then that it caught his eye. On a bookshelf in the corner of his room, a book stood out from all the others. He walked over to it and picked it up. Hope filled his heart as he rubbed his fingers over the golden lettering that read: Bible. He opened it at a random spot and read a few verses. He then flipped to another section and read more verses. Soon, he was reading through entire chapters, not able to soak up enough, and eventually, he had finished reading all four Gospels. He decided to just lie down for five minutes before continuing, but the emotional conflict and the jetlag got the most of him. In less than a minute he was fast asleep.
- - -* * *- - -
Timothy’s mind was racing. The two prophets told him so much about Jesus and salvation that his head couldn’t hold all the information. If half of what they were proclaiming was true, he had some serious soul searching to do.
‘I’ll make a deal with you, Jesus,’ he said when he was finally alone in his room. ‘If you show yourself to me, I will believe in you.’
He waited patiently for something to happen; anything. He wanted a man to appear from nowhere in his room, a window to suddenly jerk open, or even just a whisper. But nothing happened. There were no lightning bolts; no man standing there with open arms, and no golden rays of light or choirs from Heaven. He was alone, and felt quite foolish for even thinking that anything would actually happen.
‘Don’t you want me to believe?’ he shouted at the ceiling.
Still no answer.
‘This is useless,’ he said and fell back down into his bed. ‘Those two men are liars. Jesus doesn’t care. For all I know he doesn’t even exist.’
In a way he was trying to negotiate with God; trying to con Him into revealing Himself. He didn’t.
Timothy sighed and realized defeat. ‘Well, at least I tried...’
He stopped in midsentence. ‘What’s this?’ He rolled over to the table beside his bed and there, under the lamp, was a book clearly marked: Holy Bible.
He opened the Bible and flipped through it. ‘How did this get here?’ He whispered. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen where his mother was preparing dinner.
‘Mother,’ he asked, ‘did you leave this on my bedside table?’
Mary looked at the book and her eyes grew wide. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘It was on my bedside table. Someone left it there.’
‘Don’t let your father see it,’ she said with a sense of urgency in her voice. ‘You know what happened when Angie brought one of those home.’
‘You’re right,’ Timothy said. ‘No need to repeat that event ever again.’ He clutched the Bible tightly as his mother looked around nervously, trying to figure out how they could dispose of it without Malcolm finding out.
‘I’m going to keep it,’ Timothy said.
‘You can’t. You don’t know what your father will do when he finds out.’
‘Then he just won’t find out...’
She wanted to convince him to rather get rid of it, but knew that her son was responsible enough to not do anything foolish that would disgrace their family name.
‘Well,’ Timothy said, ‘if it wasn’t you, and it certainly wasn’t dad, then who could it have been? I don’t think that Kassim, his wife, or his daughters would have left it there. They’re way too devoted to their faith.’
‘Just promise me that you’ll be careful with that,’ Mary pleaded with her son.
‘I promise,’ Timothy said and went back to his room, still clutching the Bible tightly. He locked the door and opened the leather-bound book in the middle. He started reading it, but it didn’t make any sense to him.
‘Best place to start,’ he said, ‘is at the beginning.’ He opened the Bible at the first chapter of Genesis and started reading softly.
- - -* * *- - -
Andrew was in a deep sleep. Somewhere during the evening he managed to drag himself out of bed, get out of his clothes, turn on the television, and even drink some water; but in the morning, he wouldn’t remember doing any of those things. The television flashed in the background, but it didn’t disturb him in any way.
‘And in international news,’ the GMN reporter said. ‘N-Force has laid claim to the properties of those lost in the alien onslaught. In the coming months, houses and flats will be allocated to those who are in need. A Global initiative called, ‘Project Give’ is said to deal with the poverty in the third world countries. All people are asked to share as much of their wealth and resources in an effort to eradicate famine and homelessness.
‘Those currently squatting in the empty houses and flats will be relocated to encampments where they will stay until the properties are officially allocated to new owners.’
Andrew woke for a second, stretched to reach for the remote, gave up the futile attempt, and let his head crash into the pillow with a soft thud.
- - -* * *- - -
South Africa: One Week Later
The knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
Trevor looked at René. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’
‘No,’ she said and looked at the door. She lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘Are you?’
He frowned and got up. ‘No.’
He walked to the door and peeped through the hole. He could see that there was someone standing there, but couldn’t make out who it was. There was another knock and Trevor unlocked and opened the door.
‘Andy?’
Andrew just raised a hand and gave a feeble wave. He forced a faint smile and it appeared as if he hadn’t been sleeping for weeks. He had also lost weight since Trevor had last seen him, and Trevor thought that he was in fact maybe a little too thin. ‘Hey,’ he said meekly.
‘You look like Hell, bud,’ Trevor said as his friend entered the apartment. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I wish that I could say I’m all right,’ he said as they entered the living room where René jumped up and threw her arms around him. ‘And in a way I am...’
‘But...?’ Trevor probed.
‘My parents...’
‘Are they...are they okay?’ René asked and held her hand to her mouth.
‘Physically they’re fine,’ he said.
‘But...?’ Trevor guided him.
‘But spiritually they’re...’ He choked and tears brimmed in his eyes.
René touched his arm lightly. ‘Here,’ she motioned to the sofa. ‘Have a seat.’
Andrew slumped down in the sofa and buried his face in his hands.
‘What’s wrong with them spiritually?’ Trevor asked as patiently as he could manage.
Andrew wanted to tell them, but he knew that it would be of no use. They were blinded, and there would be no way for them to see or understand what it is that he was so upset about. He sighed deeply and then looked at his two friends. They didn’t have the Mark yet, and he prayed that it would stay that way; that the three of them would be able to stick together until the very end. ‘Nothing,’ he said eventually. ‘Actually, they’re fine...’
‘Are you sure?’ Trevor asked. ‘You look shook up, man.’
‘I’m…They’re fine...really.’
‘I know what will cheer you up,’ René said and smiled broadly. ‘How about a nice cup of coffee?’
Andrew managed a faint smile. ‘That would be great. Thanks.’
René left for the kitchen and Trevor sat down next to Andrew. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t quite been...yourself lately.’
‘I’m fine,’ Andrew said, trying to put an end to
the interrogation.
Trevor frowned, but let it go. Andrew was old and mature enough to look out for himself. ‘If you want to talk, I’ll be here, okay?’
‘Thanks, Trev,’
René returned and handed each of them a cup of steaming coffee. They took it and sipped slowly at it. Trevor looked over Andrew’s shoulder at the television and a smile broadened across his face. ‘Now if this doesn’t cheer you up,’ he said and upped the volume with the remote, ‘nothing will.’
‘Oh goody,’ René said excitedly and took a seat next to Trevor.
‘What’s this?’ Andrew asked.
‘It’s The World’s Funniest Deaths,’ Trevor said as if it was supposed to have been general knowledge. He stole a where-on-Earth-have-you-been glance at Andrew, but then quickly directed his attention back to the television.
Andrew also turned towards the T.V. He couldn’t believe his eyes. On the program, people were dying in the most horrific ways possible; all of the incidents accidentally videotaped by horrified family members as they helplessly looked on. Each time the narrator commented on the deaths and Trevor and René would laugh out loudly, sometimes repeating the narrator’s comments. Andrew just sat there, bewildered.
The next death scene aired, and a boy on a skateboard jumped and slid down a pole. ‘Doctor,’ the narrator said, ‘it only hurts when I do this!’ The boy fell off the skateboard and crashed headfirst into the concrete steps, sprawling his arms and legs in every direction.
Trevor and René burst out laughing, and the movie clip froze, showing the viewers at exactly which moment the boy snapped his neck in three places. The clip continued, and the boy lay lifeless at the bottom of the steps. Andrew felt as if he was going to be sick. Please God, he prayed through Trevor and René’s laughter. Save me from this!
- - -* * *- - -
South Africa: Two Weeks Later
Trevor had seventy four messages in his inbox. Most of them were unsolicited emails—SPAM in technical lingo—but there were some that were of quite high importance. Trevor regarded those from GMN as high enough to read through. There were quite a few of those. He read some of the headlines:
- Flood in Brazil kills seven hundred
- Two thousand dead, and three hundred injured in China Quake
- Mosquito plague in Israel linked to two misfits
- More terrorist attacks leave hundreds dead
One headline especially caught his attention:
- Building of Jewish Temple completed
He clicked on the link and the web page opened up to reveal the full article. According to certain sources, the Jewish Ark of the Covenant had been hidden in a cave directly underneath the location of the old Dome of the Rock. Had the Dome still been standing, it would have been impossible to retrieve the Ark without causing severe structural damage. The Muslims would never have allowed that. The article also stated that traditional animal sacrifices would be made to God; a sacrifice that had been stopped after the destruction of the second Temple in 70 A.D.
Trevor closed the page and continued through the headlines:
- ‘Peace and Safety’ campaign to boost morale
- Israel plagues spreads to America, Asia, and some parts of Africa
- Drought linked to two false prophets
- Smart Card fraud leads to serious frustration and public outcry
- Shield of Victor to replace Smart Card
Trevor closed the email. He couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts were with Andrew and his strange, new behaviour. It wasn’t drugs. Not according to Andrew at least. Trevor wondered if he should perhaps get some professional help for Andrew. It was his duty as his friend to get him assistance when he wasn’t able to do so himself. He looked over at where the Eckard brothers used to sit, and wondered if they would have approved Andrew’s crazy Christian babble. He placed his bet on the fact that they most probably would have. Trevor shook his head at the absurdity of it all and sighed as a call came through.
- - -* * *- - -
Jerusalem: Four Months Later (Eight Months since the attacks)
The Temple was breathtaking. Malcolm didn’t think that he would, in his lifetime at least, see the Temple rebuilt. It was a miracle; an act of HaShem. Hundreds of Orthodox Jews were gathered in the outer courts of the Temple, and Rabbi Morris raised his hands to calm the crowd.
‘We have waited over two thousand years for this moment,’ he said to the audible agreement of the crowd. ‘And now, we can at last make sacrifices to HaShem.’
The crowd held their breaths in anticipation as Rabbi Morris was escorted to the entrance to the Holy of Holies. Another Rabbi tied a rope around his ankle. Entering the Holy of Holies could prove fatal if the Rabbi was not considered worthy in the presence of God. The other Rabbis would then use the rope to pull out the corpse.
Rabbi Morris nodded at the two Rabbis, and carrying the sacrificial lamb, stepped into the Holy of Holies. They held onto the rope, letting it slowly slip through their hands as Rabbi Morris inched his way forward. The curtain closed behind him, and instantly the rope pulled taut, then went limp. The two Rabbis looked at one another, fear and confusion engraved on their faces.
The lamb ran out from the curtains, but the rope remained still. Reluctantly, they tugged at the rope, and then pulled it with all their strength. Eventually a foot emerged from the curtain, then a leg, and finally the rest of the limp body. Rabbi Morris was dead.
- - -* * *- - -
Timothy’s emotions raged. He had been raised with certain religious ‘truths’ that were now disintegrating before his very eyes. Each Bible passage that he read dealt a crumbling blow to the foundation of his Jewish faith. Although he had decided to follow Jesus; he still had years of conditioning and tradition that he couldn’t just let go of.
‘Show me, Jesus,’ he said. ‘Show me what you want me to do.’ He opened his Bible at a random place. ‘Ecclesiastes,’ he whispered the name of the book that it fell open on. He started reading at the third chapter:
‘There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under Heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.’
He reread the last verse, ‘a time for war and a time for peace.’
For some unknown reason, that specific verse gripped him. He wasn’t sure why, but for now it was enough.
‘Just guide me, Lord. I will follow.’
He felt peace, but knew that soon, he would have to confront his father with the news that he had chosen to follow Jesus, the Son of HaShem. He knew that it would mean trouble, especially if his father found out that it was because of the things that the two prophets had said.
A time for war. Your own will turn against you soon.
‘Just guide me, Jesus,’ he said, ‘and I will follow.’
- - -* * *- - -
‘A Rabbi was killed in Jerusalem today as he was about to perform the sacrificial ceremony in the recently rebuilt Jewish Temple,’ the GMN newsreader said. ‘The ceremony was a ritual performed by the Israelites for the forgiveness of their sins. It was at the reinstitution of this ceremony that Rabbi James Morris died.’
‘Sucker,’ Trevor snickered as he muted the television.
René laughed, and lightly touched Trevor’s arm.
There was an awkward mome
nt of silence, but Trevor decided to break it. ‘Have you been having any bad dreams lately?’ he asked her.
She looked at him quizzically. ‘Bad dreams? Not really, no.’
‘I have.’
‘Really? About what?’
‘About my parents...’ he swallowed, and then lowered his eyes. René didn’t want to put pressure on him, so just waited. Eventually he continued, ‘The dream is always the same. It starts where I’m a young boy in a war stricken country. There are shooting, bullets, and screaming everywhere. Chaos. I try to run, but I can’t. My legs won’t move.’
René took his hands in hers, but remained silent.
‘There’s a voice that calls me. My father’s voice. He calls me over, but I can’t move.’ He swallowed hard. The lump didn’t budge. He stared at René’s soft hands. It was comforting in a strange way. ‘He comes back for me, and gets killed. Both my parents and Norman come back as zombie-like creatures, blaming me for their deaths.’
‘But it’s only a dream,’ René reassured him.
Trevor’s eyes stung. He rubbed the back of his hands over them and then took a deep breath. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘it’s not.’
‘Not?’
He shook his head. ‘They were missionaries. Norman and I were young; very young, and we went with them to Istanbul. It was during a sermon one morning that the police showed up, waving their guns around and yelling something at my father.’
René swallowed hard. She wanted to say something comforting, but couldn’t find the words.
‘There was a heated exchange of words, and then all Hell broke loose.’
‘Oh dear...’ René said, squeezing his hands softly.