Infinite Testament (28 page)

Moros’s eyes fixated in front of him on a wooden post that
was rooted into the ground. His eyes trickled upwards, following the
splintered wood that towered into the sky. Then, he saw him. Jesus
cruelly, savagely nailed to a wooden cross. To add to the brutality, a
razor-sharp crown of thorns was jabbed into his head. Blood poured onto
his face. It was a sight that overcame Moros. He fell to his knees
and embraced the base of the wooden cross Jesus was bound to. He
held the wood and rubbed his face against it, without worry of splinters.
He could not reach his son. He could not touch him. The wood of the
cross would have to suffice.

“Please come down,” Moros whispered. He knew Jesus
would hear him. “You can save yourself. The people will still know
your message.”

“Face me,” Jesus instructed with what little breath he had.

Moros rose from his knees and stood in front of
Jesus. His eyes focused on the horrible pain his son was enduring.
Iron nails were embedded through his wrists and feet. As he looked at the
nails, Moros could only shiver at how much pain he must have forced himself
through. He imagined the dull point of the nail being lined up on the
wrist. And pounded through. One excruciating hammer swing at a
time. And when that was over, it was done all over again on the other
wrist. Then, the feet: the dull nail was driven through one foot.
Then the other. Then bound to the cross. Unfortunately, those
wounds weren’t even lethal. They were just a means to an end.
Hanging on the cross, the suffering could last for days without end. When
a victim begged for death, it simply wouldn’t come. All he could do was
wait.

Moros’s eyes filled with tears. “Come down,” he
begged. “Please. Come down. Let me be your Father.”

Jesus looked down at Moros, a broken man. Dying on
the cross and resurrecting would be the ultimate lesson for humanity. It
was the plan, after all. But he supposed his father had a point. If
he came down from the cross and healed his wounds, it would surely have the
same result as a resurrection, if not a better one.

Suddenly, a man in soldier’s gear ran toward Jesus and
stuck him in the side with a spear. The blade flew deep into his body,
drawing blood from his side. Moros clenched his fist, watching with
disgust at the laughing soldier.

This was humanity. Torturing one another.
Creating vile ways of death. They were not worth saving.

Moros lifted his arm and faced the palm of his hand at the
soldier. One simple swipe through the air would teach these soldiers a
lesson. Moros squinted, ready to strike.

“Father…”

Moros halted his execution and looked at his son.

“Forgive them… For they know not what they do.”

Moros hesitantly lowered his hand and clenched it into a fist.

A voice from the crowd yelled, “Come down from the cross
and save yourself!” Jesus heard those words well. If that was what
the people wanted, that’s what he would do.

The fingers in Jesus’s left hand bended. They curled
around like a spider, gaining life. He gently slid his left wrist through
the nail, bringing it forward to the base.

Jesus turned his head as he pulled his other wrist
forward. But in front of him, he saw the holy spirit, Elpis, coming into
view as she climbed the hill. Her head rose above the horizon. She
was anguished to see him on the cross. The torment on her face told him
that much. But through her inner pain, Elpis smiled at him.

Jesus pulled his right wrist forward, against the base of
the nail. He looked out again at Elpis. Suddenly, something didn’t
feel right. The strongest sense of déjà vu came over him. Jesus
looked at his surroundings. Elpis, standing in the distance, smiling at
him. His father, Moros, standing below, grieving in his suffering.
His mother, Mary, with his beloved disciple. A crowd of onlookers, some
full of sadness, others taunting. Everything he looked at, everything he
saw, he had seen before.

Surely, everything that was happening had already happened
countless times before. The Universe repeated itself. Jesus knew
that. But somehow, a flash of the future appeared in his mind. He
had gotten off the cross before. It was what he had done every
time. He pulled the nails out of the cross and came down. And every
time was met with horrific results.

There was no escaping from the cross. Jesus looked
into his father’s eyes; his light was dimming. By staying on the cross,
Jesus would save the world. But his father would slip into
darkness. Moros would be destroyed. If Jesus got off, he and his
father would live out their lives happily, but Earth would be obliterated by
the archangels. Jesus had a choice: his loving father or humanity.
In his angst, and facing an impossible decision, Jesus yelled with all of his
might, “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus dropped his head on his chest. No matter his
choice… suffering would endure. Jesus thrust his wrists back against the
cross. He accepted his impending death.

Jesus changed the course of the Universe.

Moros gasped. Jesus wasn’t coming down. “No,”
he muttered. “No!!!”

The clear day of the sky transformed into darkness.
Every direction was pitch black. It was still the day, but it appeared as
night. People standing near the cross marveled at the sky, mumbling
amongst themselves. The ground rumbled. Moros fell to his knees and
braced himself.

Elpis fell to her knees. Her eyes unconsciously
slammed shut and a series of blurry images flashed in her mind. She saw
the original course of the world. Jesus removed himself from the
cross. Hugged his father… his mother. Elpis and Moros held hands,
happily in love on Raqiya. But without the resurrection, the light didn’t
spread. People rejected it. The darkness maintained its
stranglehold. The committee was forced to start again elsewhere.

Earth was destroyed.

Elpis snapped out of the visions. She had just
witnessed the Universe as it had always been. But somehow, Jesus had
changed it. Now, things would be different.

The ground continued to rumble, tossing people to their feet.
Someone in the distance yelled, “Truly, this man was the Son of God!”
Moros gripped the grass and dropped his head. The pressure on his heart
was too much to bear. He screamed in agony. Jesus was not the ‘Son
of God’. He was Moros’s son. And Moros loved him.

Jesus rested his head on his chest. “It is
finished.” Jesus closed his eyes and died.

The ground stopped rumbling. All was silent. A
woman fell to her knees next to Moros and wept. Moros looked at
her. It was Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Father and Mother knelt side by side, mourning the loss of
their son.

Moros whispered, “I’m sorry for the loss of your son.”

Mary looked into his eyes. Moros was nearly blinded
by the light resounding within her. They were right; this woman was
pure. Mary responded, “Thank you. It was God’s will.”

No, Moros thought. Not God’s will. His Father,
Michael’s will. The will of the committee.

Moros leaned over and kissed Mary on the cheek. “May
your heart be strong.” He stood up and looked at the sky. Total
darkness. As he turned around, he saw Elpis, standing at a distance from
him.

Moros walked down the hill toward her.

“Is this what you wanted?” Moros seethed.

Elpis stood, staring at him. “All I can tell you is
that I’m sorry.”

“Well it isn’t enough,” Moros shot back.

Elpis swelled with sadness. Moros looked at the girl
he loved with his broken heart. Relenting, he threw his arms around her
and hugged her. Elpis rested her head on Moros’s shoulders and bawled
with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I love you so
much.”

Moros squeezed tightly, pressing her body against
his. “I will always love you, Elpis. No matter what.”

Elpis backed her head from the comfort of his shoulders and
peered into his eyes. They were dim with light, but no doubt there
was
light. She smiled through her tears.

Moros said, “I need you to do something. Kiss his
mother. She deserves to see her son once more.”

Elpis nodded. They separated as Elpis walked toward
Mary, still kneeling in front of the cross.

Moros watched Elpis climb up the hill. His nerves
were calming when a soft whisper rang out, “Kill them. Kill all of
them.” Moros’s eyes darted around. He spun, looking for the
location of the voice. Must’ve been hearing things, he surmised.
“They killed your son. KILL THEM!” the voice screamed at him. Moros
panicked. The voice was coming from directly in front of him. But
no one was there.

A figure appeared in front of him. It was his father,
Michael. He held out his hand. “Take my hand, son. We’ll kill
them. All the archangels. We’ll kill all of them.
They
did this.”

Michael disappeared. In his place, Gabriel
appeared. “Your son didn’t deserve to live.” Raphael appeared in
Gabriel’s place. “I can only wonder what the nails felt like as they were
driven through his wrists.” Raphael’s eyes squinted as he grinned at
Moros.

Moros held his hands over his eyes. “Leave me
alone!” Moros was losing his mind. The voices rang in his
head. “Kill them. Kill them. Kill them!” Moros flailed
about, trying to get rid of the voices. A hand gripped his shoulder and
he slapped it away.

Elpis asked, “What are you doing, Moros?”

Moros snapped out of it. The voices
disappeared. He stared at Elpis. The weight of Jesus’s death began
to sink in. “They killed my son,” he muttered. Elpis approached him
with outstretched arms, offering console. Moros forced himself
away. “No. Get away from me.”

Elpis dropped her arms, worried for the man she
loved. “Come with me.”

Moros gazed at her. He had a choice. But at
this time, at this hour, he wasn’t thinking clearly. “No.”

“What will you do?”

“When I am ready, I will return to Raqiya. I will
kill everyone in the committee. Then I will destroy this disgusting
planet. The people of Earth don’t deserve our help. I’m going to
put an end to it.”

“It’s not about Earth, Moros. It’s about the entire
Universe.”

“Then we can start again somewhere else.”

Elpis stared at Moros. The light in his eyes was
gone. He was in danger of completely slipping into the darkness.
Elpis said, “I hope you reconsider, Moros. I know who you are. You
are not a man of violence. You are caring. Kind. And I love
you. When you are ready to return to Raqiya, I will be waiting for you.”

Elpis, not wanting to re-awaken his anger, smiled and left.

Moros stood alone with his thoughts.

Moros stood in front of the Pythor in the forest.
It was the same forest Stephen and Bruce had terrorized Mr. Ixley in many years
ago. The same forest where Elpis recruited Bruce. Blue backpack in
tow, Moros looked down at the X-circle and held his palm toward it. A
circle of flames erupted.

“Where do you go when use the Pythor?”

Moros turned around and held up his hand to the unexpected
intruder. Staring back at him was Elpis, standing on a log and garbed in
a button-up shirt and jeans. Her blonde, curly hair blew with the
wind. Moros coolly said, “Not to Raqiya.”

Elpis hopped off the log and approached Moros. “Nice
backpack. Someone special must have given it to you…” Elpis smiled,
“Have you missed me?”

“Of course,” he responded truthfully.

“I miss you every day,” Elpis said, struggling to maintain
herself. “Are you close?”

“Very,” Moros responded, “It has been an interesting battle
of wits with you.” Moros turned to the Pythor that was patiently waiting
for him. “I suppose I should leave.”

“Wait,” Elpis pleaded. “Don’t go.”

Moros turned and faced Elpis. After a slight
hesitation, she leapt into his arms and forced her lips onto his. Moros
welcomed this expected gesture. His hands caressed her face as they
aggressively kissed. Elpis closed her eyes, reveling in the love she
longed for. “I have waited two thousand years for this,” she whispered.

“How is life on Raqiya?” Moros asked, holding Elpis in his
arms.

“Not the same without you.”

“And Father?”

“He misses you. The committee is… secretive, as
always.”

Moros shook his head in disgust. He joyously peered
in her eyes and said, “You know, I see you.” Elpis tilted her head, not
understanding. “You appear to me. In my dreams. In everything
I do. You haunt me.”

Elpis caressed his cheek. She couldn’t help but
laugh; she was too elated. “I think of you always. So I suppose you
haunt me as well.”

Moros smiled. There wasn’t any girl like Elpis.
Her selflessness and love was unbounded. “Did you ever find the box I
made for you? The one with your name on it?”

Elpis sighed. “No. I lost it long ago. I
will find it someday.”

“And what about what you finally put inside? What was
it?”

Elpis hesitated. “You will see when I find it.”

“It’s no matter. I got something for you.”
Moros reached into his pocket, pulled out the E.M. ring, and flashed it in
front of her eyes. Elpis’s eyes grew wide as she stepped back. A
terrible feeling grew inside of her. “What have you done?”

Moros smiled devilishly.

The realization was too much for Elpis to bear. “It
was you!
You
killed Sara, didn’t you? How could you do
that?”

“Not just her. Bruce is dead too. Sorry,
Elpis. Your plan to stop me has failed.”

Elpis couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You
killed Bruce?! How could you?!” Elpis slammed her fists on Moros’s
chest. He grabbed her wrists and attempted to calm her down. She
sobbed at the news of Bruce’s demise.