by Tim LaHaye
“The Bible says that we should comfort one another with these words. And what greater comfort could there be? Laura is now with Jesus. She isn’t sad or in pain, as we are. Her body may be broken, but her soul, her perfect soul, is in heaven. And it is God’s promise to us that if we believe in His Son’s death on the cross for our sins, and that God raised Him from the dead, we shall see her and all fellow believers and ‘ever be with the Lord.’ No wonder the apostle could say to us in our sorrow, ‘Therefore, comfort one another with these words,’ for you will see Laura again.”
The last words were spoken slowly, and he looked directly at Murphy as he said them.
Then Wagoner picked up his hymnbook. Murphy rose to his feet and soon the sweet sound of voices joined in sorrow and thankfulness rose up from the battered pews.
Murphy walked over to the casket for one final look at Laura. As he looked down, it took him a moment to notice it, and he thought the tears in his eyes were distorting his vision. But as he reached over with his hand, his fingers confirmed the shocking sight. Someone had snuck in and taken the wooden cross Murphy had laid around Laura’s neck and partially snapped it so that its three pieces now dangled from the necklace.
FORTY-SEVEN
MURPHY HEARD THE last shovelful of earth being laid on the top of the grave and finally understood that Laura was gone. The body in the coffin, although it was still beautiful, was not her. She was somewhere else, somewhere he had thought about a good deal over the years but now couldn’t quite imagine. He knew she would never grow old there; she would always be as he had seen her last. Perfect.
Laura’s parents were clinging to each other by the grave, and he tried to think of something he could do for them, but when he reached inside himself, there was just a huge emptiness and he knew that if he tried to comfort them, the right words wouldn’t come.
Shari walked over. “I’m going to take Kurt and Susan back to the hotel. She needs to rest and I can stay there for a while if they want me to.” He nodded, grateful for the openhearted-ness that allowed her to read his mind.
Wagoner was standing by the church door, shaking hands with the departing mourners and offering final words of consolation from his seemingly inexhaustible store. Murphy realized there was nothing more for him to do there.
He got in the car and sat for a moment, then started the engine and drove slowly out of the parking lot. He couldn’t go home. Not yet. Her presence there would be too strong, and just seeing a hairbrush or a coffee cup lying where she had left it would paralyze him with grief. He drove aimlessly for a while until he found he was on a road leading to the university. That was no good either. He made a right turn, wishing he could find a place that held no memories, a place Laura had never known and that wouldn’t cry out her name as he got near. He decided to keep driving until he was on an unfamiliar road and then he’d keep going until… until what? He didn’t know. Until something changed, perhaps. He passed a gas station and a row of body shops, and when he saw a sign that said fifty miles to somewhere, he made the turn and put his foot down. The wheel seemed to grow lighter in his hands and the world began to stream behind him. He lost all sense of time.
He heard a horn blaring and wrenched the wheel to the right, narrowly missing a truck coming the other way. He pulled over sharply and rested his head on the wheel, waiting for the hammering in his chest to still.
It was no good. There was no point trying to escape. He knew where he had to go. He eased into the traffic and headed back the way he’d come.
Half an hour later he came to a halt in front of the church and got out of the car. He was glad to see the parking lot was empty except for Wagoner’s old pickup.
He walked back to the grave and stood over it, looking at the pale headstone with its simple inscription. One day I’ll be bringing flowers here and it’ll be worn smooth, he thought. Moss will be growing in the cracks.
He looked up and Bob Wagoner was standing on the other side of the grave, hands clasped in front of him. “I thought you’d come back,” he said.
Murphy felt something stir inside him and realized that this was what he had come for. “I keep thinking about what you said, about God’s plan, and I… I just can’t accept it. How could He have done this? How could He have let it happen? If I’d been killed in Samaria, or in the fire … but Laura. She was such a woman of faith. She didn’t have a bad thought in her head. She was … like an angel.”
Wagoner came and put an arm around his shoulder. “God understands your grief, Michael. He’s not offended by your questioning either. Remember, His own Son questioned Him.” He noticed Murphy was holding the little wooden cross. He recognized it as the cross Laura had worn around her neck. “You have the answer in the palm of your hand, Michael. When Jesus was dying on the cross, He asked His father, ‘Why have you forsaken me?’ He felt abandoned, just as you do. But God didn’t abandon Him. Just as He hasn’t abandoned you. You must trust Him, Michael. It’s hard, I know. But it’s now, when we’re at our lowest ebb, that we need to hold fast to our faith. We’ll pray together, Michael, and God will hear us.”
“Will He hear us, Bob? Was He listening when we all cried out in pain and terror the night of the bombing, when, it seems clear to me now, whoever blew up our church didn’t feel they had done enough evil for one night? So they had to go and attack Laura in the basement and in a way that made sure it would take time for her to die. And they didn’t even stop with that.”
Murphy held up the wooden cross in his hand. “The final outrage. Whoever was responsible for all this dared to sneak in at some point the day of the funeral and break her cross into three pieces. It’s like it’s connected to the three pieces of the Serpent search, though I can’t begin to think of what the evil connection of all this can be. But most of all Bob, I cannot see what the point of all this suffering is. I’ve lost the most important thing in my life. What can God do for me now?”
Pastor Wagoner sighed. “It’s natural for you to ask that question at this terrible moment, Michael. All I can tell you is that I have seen it many times before. What God can do for you now is that in the face of the greatest tragedy, the most profound heartache, He gives us what I call coping grace. He gives us the strength we need to get through it. The strength to carry on through our sorrow and fulfill His plans for us.”
Murphy snorted. “You think God still has plans for me?”
“I know He does,” Wagoner said firmly.
“Well, I’m not too sure I care.”
“Look, Michael. Laura was a special person. But so are you. You have a special courage, you’re not afraid to go head-to-head with evil. And right now I believe very strongly we need you to do that.”
Murphy looked at him quizzically. “What are you talking about?”
“Look around you, Michael. You started to say this yourself. Somebody tried to destroy this church. Literally and metaphorically. I’m sure you haven’t turned on the TV or read a newspaper since Laura died, but if you had, you would have seen headlines about ‘evangelical terrorists’ and ‘Christian bomb conspiracies.’ Someone is trying very hard to discredit us—and so far they’re doing a pretty good job, judging by the way the media are jumping on the bandwagon.”
Murphy thought for a moment. “But what can I do? I’m just an archaeologist.”
“I’m not sure, Michael. But I believe God has a special task for you. And I believe if you let Him, He’ll tell you what it is.”
“I’ll try, Bob. But I think right now I’m too angry about Laura to hear what He has to say.”
Wagoner clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going home now, Michael. But I’ll be here tomorrow. There’s still plenty of work to do getting the church back into shape. We have to show that evil can’t win.”
Murphy looked down at the pile of earth in front of them. “Maybe it already has, Bob.”
“Nonsense, Michael. Laura is with her Lord in heaven, remember that. Maybe you should go home too. Go home and pray. He�
��ll give you what you need.”
Murphy stood by the grave and listened to Wagoner’s retreating footsteps. The shadows of the tombstones lengthened on the grass and the sun began to dip behind the trees. After a while a white dove settled on top of Laura’s tombstone, seemingly oblivious of his presence, cooing gently as it preened its perfect white wings. He found himself smiling.
“Bless you, sweetheart,” Murphy said softly. He put her cross around his neck.
The dove cocked its head to look at him, then suddenly took off and swooped across the tombstones and behind the church.
He looked up to see what had spooked it. High in the branches of a tree a large bird of prey was picking at its talons with a great curved beak. It gave a single piercing shriek, then launched itself lazily into the air, slow wing beats taking it back toward the darkness of the woods. Murphy watched it disappear from sight, then trudged back toward the church. He’d chosen to stay at the church because he knew he’d be alone there, and because he couldn’t yet bear to go home. And also because he thought if God wanted to speak to him, communication might be easier in a place of worship. He was tired and confused about so many things. If God wanted him to understand His plan, He’d have to speak loud and clear to get His message across.
FORTY-EIGHT
HAD IT BEEN a face-to-face conversation, one of the most powerful men in the world would have been lying dead within a minute. Instead, Talon had to listen to the intense screaming of John Bartholomew of the Seven without reacting, except to scrape his sharpened index finger across the motel desk, back and forth, back and forth. If the conversation had lasted longer than two minutes, it is possible the desk might have been cut in half, so vicious were his slashes.
“Talon, I explicity told you nothing was to harm Murphy.” “What are you talking about? I didn’t touch him, I killed his wife.”
“And if there was any sort of normal gene in your makeup, you would realize that if someone loses a loved one, it can have devastating consequences. We don’t care that she’s dead, but if it distracts him from getting those last two pieces of the Serpent, you will have failed us. And even you must fear those consequences.”
“Look, I made a judgment call. She was in the way and could have exposed me. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I was going stir-crazy just hanging around with only an archaeologist to watch, of all things, and a bombing to plan that had no … personal satisfaction.”
“I am going to trust that we understand each other and that this type of conversation will not need to be had ever again, Talon.”
Try saying this to my face and see how long the next conversation goes, thought Talon. “That woman from the Parchments for Freedom Foundation visited Murphy in the hospital and I heard her say she got the tail decoded.”
“You see, that’s all the more reason to get Murphy back on the case. Then that piece can be ours. I do believe that he will snap back quickly. Once he does, you can get back in action. Still not, I repeat not, by harming Murphy. But it is time we claimed that first piece of the Serpent.”
“Back in action, that’s what I like to hear.”
Murphy shot his fiftieth arrow as he had shot each of the previous arrows that afternoon. Aimlessly, just pulling the bowstring taut and launching it into the trees.
Normally, Murphy focused on his archery with precise discipline. Since he was a teenager, he had been a serious bow marksman. He hunted occasionally, but it was target archery that really stimulated Murphy’s natural competitive drive.
Even in the distracted fog of his anger, Murphy went through all the motions of a skilled bow shooter. He adjusted the plastic protector around his left forearm before picking an arrow from the quiver hanging at his waist. Slowly, he drew back the bowstring on his laminated carbon-fiber-compound bow. At full draw, the system of cables and eccentric pulleys mounted at the limb tips put an awesome power at Murphy’s fingertips. He just needed to breathe out, let go, and his arrow would be speeding toward its target at up to 330 feet per second like a laser-guided missile.
However, this afternoon the tears that streamed from his eyes without warning, the anger that buzzed through his mind, and the residual pain in his shoulder combined to make the arrows speed through the trees in erratic but still deadly fashion.
Murphy did not seem to care. The release from his muscles with each shot of an arrow seemed as natural yet as uncontrolled as his tears.
Unnoticed by Murphy, the man known as Talon had tracked him and was watching from several hundred yards away through binoculars. With the Seven’s warnings about Murphy still being off-limits to him, he knew he could not take Murphy that afternoon. Without being able to channel his killing skills into immediate action, Talon was quite surprised to find himself admiring Murphy’s clear strength. His physical strength, the arm muscles and coordination needed even to work the bow to shoot wide of any mark, not Murphy’s strength of character, because Talon had zero gift for empathy so he could not appreciate how racked with grief Murphy was.
Talon stirred himself from staring when there was a sound approaching Murphy from the opposite side. In another moment he beard a man’s voice but still did not see a figure other than Murphy’s. For a second be thought the deeply disturbed Murphy was shouting at himself.
“Ach! You call that shooting, Murphy? I have seen blind men come closer to their targets.” Levi Abrams came crashing through the trees on the other side of Murphy.
“Levi, go away. Please.”
“I can’t. I’ve been sent by your Smokey the Bear to protect the trees. With all of your anger shooting all these arrows into the trees, you could kill more trees than a forest fire.”
“Levi, I’m warning you, I’m in no mood. Leave me alone.”
“No can do, Murphy. I’m going to go out on a limb here, while there is actually a limb left on a tree in this entire forest. I will not mince words, Murphy. What happened to Laura was horrible. I can only imagine your pain right now.”
Murphy did not stop his automation-like shooting into the trees. He had only a few arrows left.
“Actually, Murphy, I can do better than imagine what you’re going through. When my first wife and daughter were blown up in a bus bombing in Tel Aviv five years ago, I didn’t think I could go on. For me it wasn’t a bow and arrow. It was two hundred and ten rounds of ammunition on the firing range while I put away a quart of whiskey in record time. That was just the first night. It took me six months to get a grip. And you know what?”
Murphy let loose his last arrow. For the first time all afternoon it landed dead center in the trunk of a tree, the tree closest to where Levi was standing. Murphy threw down his bow and faced Levi with a wild-eyed stare. “What?”
“Those were six wasted months. I was letting those Arab dogs win. I was letting them take in their dirty, bloody murderers’ hands the sweet, sweet memories I had of my wife and daughter and twist them into victims. You don’t want that for Laura. She was too fine for that. And so are you, my friend.”
Murphy turned away. The tears stopped. “Levi, I can’t make sense of it.”
Levi reached an arm around his friend. “I can’t either, Murphy. I am no expert, but I did seek out two people who are experts and I know they can help you get going again, as you must. I spoke to your Pastor Bob. As a Christian, you believe in a resurrection, a life after death, when you will forever be with Laura again. Look forward by faith to that event, and in the meantime, get back to work! You know that is what Laura would want you to do. I don’t pretend to understand that part of your faith, but I know you do, and it is time you put it into action.
“Second, Murphy, I spoke to that Isis McDonald. She’s ready to go over the translation of your Serpent’s tail with you. I’ve got you a plane to take you to Washington, D.C., this afternoon.”
Murphy picked up his bow. He grabbed Levi around the neck. “Levi, thank you, my friend. You would make a good Christian if you ever decide to come on over. You know I’m praying t
hat you will. I will take you up on your plane, but first I’ve got a stop to make.”
Talon watched the two men walk off through the woods. Good, he thought. Now he could also look forward to getting back into action. On to Washington.
FORTY-NINE
LAURA WOULD HAVE been mortified but not surprised to see the unshaven, dirt-smeared, exhausted Michael Murphy walk slowly but purposefully up to the church pulpit.
Reverend Wagoner reached out a hand of welcome.
“Pastor, may I say a few words to the church?”
“Of course, Michael.”
“Friends—many of you are my friends, and I guess that’s a concept that becomes more important only when you’re grieving, but I haven’t felt much like being among people since Laura’s death.
“I guess because it’s clear to me that some sorry excuse for a person, some walking evil, struck her down.
“And I couldn’t stop it. Which is why I haven’t felt much like being around myself either.
“And worst of all, I haven’t felt much like being around God, because I’ve been angry and I’ve been blaming Him, and I’ve been just so unable to go on, so let down by Him and confused. But I realize that God has a plan for me, no matter how painful this portion of it has been.
“I guess I started to realize it when a well-meaning colleague of mine brought me the piece of Moses’ Brazen Serpent in the hospital. The piece that Laura and I found on our last great adventure together. For a moment I was almost tempted to forsake my God as this colleague suggested and place my faith instead in this false icon.
“I realized this morning that the Serpent is a sign to me not to give up my faith but to renew it. I believe this was what Pastor Bob here was getting ready to talk about the other night when the bomb went off. I was helped to focus on it by, of all people, my Israeli friend, Levi Abrams, which I guess shows us that guidance and inspiration come from all sorts of places if we open ourselves.