The Didymus Contingency (22 page)

As Sally slammed through the stairwell door, a third bullet punctured the metal door behind her, just missing its mark. She scrambled up the stairs, covering two steps at a time. She had a plan. She thought it was stupid, but it was a plan nonetheless. The three guards, two running and Chuck limping, followed quickly, weapons ready to kill.

Jake picked up the office phone and dialed three numbers. “Sir, it’s Jake... Better prep...all four. Spencer was right.... Sally’s gone crazy... I think she’s going back... Yeah... She’s got a watch.”

Sally’s legs burned as she heaved up each flight of stairs. The men behind her were gaining, and if they caught her, would most likely kill her. She couldn’t let that happen. Sally slammed into a thick bulkhead and pushed. The doors were heavy, covered in sand and meant only for emergency use; only a select group of people knew they existed, and from the outside, they were invisible. An alarm sounded as soon as the first piece of daylight entered the stairwell.

Pang!
A bullet ricocheted off the stair Sally was standing on. The vibration caused by the bullet shot a tingling sensation up her leg.
That was close
. A few more seconds and she’d be dead. Sally grunted as she pushed the bulkhead open and ran into the blazing sun. The searing heat of the desert and blinding light of sun on golden sand was disorientating.

Sally stumbled forward a few feet and covered her squinting eyes. She saw it just in time. She planted her feet firmly in the sand and leaned backward. Her toes protruded over a five hundred foot drop. Sally was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Don’t move! Don’t move a freakin’ inch, lady!” the elevator guard shouted.

“Turn around, nice and slow,” Sean said, as he inched toward her, keeping a watchful eye on the cliff.

Sally turned around slowly, but did not move away from the cliff’s edge. She had to time this perfectly and make sure she didn’t get shot in the process.

“Take off your mask,” demanded the elevator guard. “Take it off, now.”

Sally punched one last button on the watch as she raised her hand to her scarf and unwrapped it. The guards took a step back when they saw Sally’s face. They had been shooting at their boss!

“Sorry for the trouble, boys,” Sally said with a smile.

She tossed the scarf at the guards, obscuring their view. By the time the skinny guard plucked the scarf out of the air, Sally had already jumped.

“Director McField!” Sean shouted, as he reached out for her.

All three men ran to the edge of the cliff and looked over. Sally was plummeting toward the ground. A light began to pulsate. With each flash it grew brighter and brighter, enveloping Sally’s body in a blaze of white. The three men jumped back as a sound like an explosion rose from below. They waited only a second before looking back over the cliff. And what they saw, they couldn’t believe. Sally was gone. No broken body. No stain of blood. She had vanished. Only a glowing cloud of blue particles remained, carried by the wind.

“Holy... She’s…she’s gone!”

“This must have something to do with that secret stuff they’ve been working on.”

“Yeah, but where did she go?”

“Not where did she go,” Jake said. “But when did she go?”

As Jake finished his sentence, a tingling zap of energy coursed up through the sinews of his back and into his skull. He was suddenly filled with the knowledge of what he had to do next…and it was wonderful.

The guards turned around and saw Jake standing in the bulkhead. He had a gun raised. “Sorry guys, but you’ve seen too much and we need to tidy up a bit.”

Before any of them could react, Jake fired three shots.

—SIXTEEN—

Rise

30A.D.

3:12 P.M.

Bethany, Israel

Tom was miffed. Jesus knew Lazarus was sick, maybe even dying. While Tom in no way believed Jesus could heal Lazarus, he knew that they were friends and if Lazarus died, Jesus should be there. They all should be there. But they weren’t. Three days had passed before they set out that morning, headed for Bethany. Tom thought that Jesus might have waited the three days with the hopes that Lazarus would be feeling better by the time they arrived, thus negating the need for an actual miraculous healing.

The hike toward Bethany had been quiet and tense. Tom was glad it was almost over. As the hillside home of Lazarus came into view, Tom’s heart sank. A crowd of people, maybe a hundred, was gathered around the home. And there was a noise...a wailing.
Is everyone crying?

Jesus stopped in his tracks and looked at the crowd. The disciples followed suit. Tom knew what this meant. He knew Lazarus was dead. And they hadn’t been here.

As the fourteen moved forward again and approached the home, Martha burst from the crowd and stormed toward Jesus, consumed by rage. “Where were you?”

Martha stopped in front of Jesus and punched his chest. “
Where were you?”

She punched Jesus’s chest and arms over and over, lessening the blow each time. “If you had been here earlier, Lazarus would not have died!”

Tom shook his head at hearing Martha say the words, confirming Lazarus’s passing. This was madness.

After putting his arms around Martha, Jesus pulled her close. She sobbed into Jesus’s chest as he ran his fingers through Martha’s hair. He held her tight until her muscles relaxed. Jesus loosened his grip on Martha and she wiped her eyes dry.

“But...I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask,” Martha said with the voice of a desperate beggar.

Jesus wiped a stray tear from Martha’s cheek and said, “Your brother will rise again.”

“Yes, yes, I know, in the resurrection. On the last day,” Martha said, defeated.

“Martha...I am the resurrection. I am the life. Whoever believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives, and believes in me will never die... Do you believe this, Martha?”

Martha’s eyes filled with liquid as she stared Jesus in the eyes. “Yes,” she said with a firm voice, “I believe you are the Christ, the very Son of God who has come into this world.”

Martha heard her own words and looked suddenly worried. “Sorry I hit you.”

Jesus smiled at Martha and asked, “Now, where is your sister? Where is Mary?”

“Inside. I’ll get her.” Martha headed for the house.

Appearing weakened by the strong emotions of Martha, Jesus sat at the base of a fig tree, while the disciples dispersed among the mass of mourners. Tom and David stood twenty feet from Jesus, watching the scene as though through a time portal. Tom thought David looked nervous. Did he know what was going to happen? Was he expecting trouble?

Tom attempted to hypothesize about what David might be thinking, but found his own thoughts consumed by concern for Mary. He hadn’t seen her yet, and scanned the faces of the people who had gathered at the home.

Like a lighthouse beckoning to a ship in the night, Mary emerged from within the sea of people and headed toward Jesus. Tom felt an incredible urge to run to her, to reach out and comfort her. But she was not coming to him. Why wasn’t she coming to him? Perhaps her feelings for him were temporary? Had he misread her interest? Tom swallowed hard at the thought and continued watching, his feet stuck to the ground like two branches frozen in ice.

He watched as Mary stood above Jesus at the fig tree. Jesus looked up from the ground and met Mary’s eyes. It was as if an entire conversation was held using only their eyes. They stared at each other in painful silence, crying. A teardrop fell from Mary’s face and struck her shaking hand as it fell to the earth. Mary took a deep breath.

“Where were you? You could have saved him,” Mary said with a sniffle.

Jesus reached a hand out to Mary and she fell into his arms. Jesus wept.

Tom felt a nagging on his tear ducts and gave in, allowing the tears to flow freely down his face. He felt David’s gaze and knew he must be realizing how much Mary really meant to him. Tom had never once, not even when he talked about Megan, cried in front of David.

Jesus held Mary by the shoulders and pushed her back so he could see her face. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s not far. We’ll show you.”

Mary and Jesus stood to their feet. “Let me gather the disciples,” Jesus said. “Then we will go see about your brother.”

Jesus walked into the crowd, leaving Mary alone. As she stood by herself, her face became twisted with agony. She jumped when Tom placed his hand on her shoulder. “Mary,” Tom said with a compassionate voice. “I’m here.”

Mary spun around and wrapped her arms around Tom as tight as she could. Tom squeezed her and pressed his face against hers, mixing their tears. Tom felt as though his heart were being stung by an angry swarm of bees. Lazarus was dead, but Mary was alive and Tom could feel her love for him as they shared the pain of loss that Tom knew all too well.

Watching from the sidelines had become a hobby for David. He wasn’t always invited or allowed to take part in everything Jesus and the disciples did, but he was just as happy to watch. And he had never been happier to do so than now. Here they were, two thousand years in the past, mourning the death of a friend whose sister was falling in love with Tom. David smiled. Tom didn’t believe in Jesus, but he sure had a habit of falling in love with women who did.

Tom looked up as Jesus emerged from the crowd with Martha and the eleven other disciples. “We’re ready,” Jesus said.

Mary smiled at Tom through wet eyes. “Go ahead,” Tom said. “I’ll catch up with David.”

Mary nodded with a faint smile and then ran to Jesus. David rejoined Tom and said, “She’s something special, isn’t she?”

Tom looked at David, surprisingly serious. “Tell me, David. If Jesus loved Lazarus so much, why didn’t he come sooner? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that he did heal the blind guy, and all the other people who claim to be healed. Why didn’t he come here and heal Lazarus? He’s caused Mary so much pain by not coming... It seems to me that he’s been letting people suffer and die in his name from the very beginning.”

“Tom...” It was all David could get out.

“What?” Tom asked. “If God created the universe, he can save a human life. If Jesus is God, he could have saved Lazarus. So he chose not to. If Jesus is God, he could have saved Megan. If Jesus is God...God is a bastard.”

Tom couldn’t believe David’s reaction. David smiled!

“What are you smiling at? I’m being serious,” Tom said.

“I can’t say why some people die when and how they do. Only God can ever really know that. But some lives can be saved,” David said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think we should follow Jesus.”

“Why?”

“Because after eighteen years, you ought to trust me.”

David was right. While Tom had lost all trust in Jesus’s ability to make the smart choices, David had never failed him. They followed after Jesus and the disciples along with the rest of the crowd.

As Tom wove his way past the scads of people, he saw a familiar face. Looking at him was the Pharisee named Tarsus, dressed in the common man’s clothing, walking among with the crowd. Tarsus caught Tom’s eye and nodded to him as men who have a common goal sometimes do. Tom nodded back.

*   *   *   *   *

Jesus, Mary and Martha stopped in front of Lazarus’s tomb, which was simply a cave dug into the grassy hillside. A large, rounded slab of solid stone covered the entrance with an airtight seal. Tom, David and the disciples stopped behind Jesus, the large crowd of mourners behind them.

Jesus walked to the stone and rested his hand on it. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Jesus took a deep breath, looked up at the sky and then turned to David and Tom with a look of determination. “Take away the stone.”

Tom looked at David as if to say: Is he serious?! David grinned and headed for the boulder. Tom followed, feeling very silly.

“Wait,” Martha protested. “By this time he’ll… he’s been in there four days… the smell… we can’t.”

Jesus looked at Martha with kind eyes. “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”

Martha looked at the ground, unsure, but then nodded and backed away, though her look of concern did not diminish. Jesus glanced at David and Tom, signaling them to push. Tom and David braced themselves against the boulder and heaved. It didn’t budge.

Peter, who was standing in front of the crowd with the other disciples, nudged Matthew and said, “Let’s help.”

Matthew nodded in agreement and grabbed Judas, who was standing next to him. “You too.” Before Judas could object, Matthew had dragged him all the way to the boulder. Tom and David were relieved that help had arrived.

“On three,” Tom said.

“What’s on three?” Judas asked. Peter and Matthew looked confused as well.

“I’m going to count to three. When I say three, we all push,” Tom explained.

“Ohh, why didn’t you just say so?” Matthew said.

“One...”

The five men braced themselves against the stone.

“Two...”

Tom dug his feet into the ground.

“Three!”

All five men pushed with all their strength and the boulder rolled free. A sound like venting gas escaped from the cave as its seal was broken. The crowd covered their noses and backed away. The stone rolled free and became unbalanced. It wobbled and fell onto its side, just missing Judas and exploding a cloud of dirt into the air, which mixed with the smell of death. Tom wondered if this would be the moment of Jesus’s undoing that wouldn’t be recorded in the Bible.

Walking past Tom, Jesus slowly stepped toward the cave. He grabbed the sides of the cave entrance and leaned in, bowing his head at the same time. “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I say this for the benefit...”

Jesus turned and looked Tom right in the eyes, “...of the people standing here, that they might believe you sent me.”

Jesus turned his head back toward the gaping hole in the earth. After a moment, Jesus turned his back on the cave and walked a few feet away, facing the crowd. Jesus closed his eyes. “Lazarus!” he yelled. “Come out!”