“Happy Easter!” I said to my grandmother.
We were all gathering at great Aunt Kimberley’s house. There were so many of us that there were tables set up in the living room, kitchen, and dining room. Aunt Cindi’s old farmhouse would have fit us all better, but nobody dared ask great Aunt Kimberley to break the tradition of gathering here.
“That’s a pretty necklace, Grandma,” I said. “Where did you get it?”
The necklace was a large tear-drop shaped ruby, hanging on a delicate gold chain.
“It was given to me by my mother,” she said. “It’s been passed down by the women of our family for generations. Someday, I’ll give it to you - but I think I’d like to enjoy it for a little while longer.”
“How long has our family had it?” I asked.
“It first belonged to your great, great, great, great, great …” she paused for a moment as she thought and counted, then added, “great-grandmother. As I’ve heard the story, she was a very rich woman who lived through the Final Holy War. Over the years, she gave all of her money away to the poor, until the only thing left was this necklace. She gave it to her daughter and asked that it always stay in the family, and so it has.”
“It looks just like one that Daddy gave to me,” I said, then closed my lips tight and looked around.
It was too late. I saw Dad’s head shift down and to the right by several millimeters.
“I shouldn’t have said that, Grandma,” I whispered. “The jewels Daddy gave me are part of a family secret.”
She got down close and whispered back.
“I’m very good at keeping family secrets. Want to know another one?”
I nod my head.
“This ruby was given a name all of those years ago. It’s called ‘The Angel Tear Ruby.’”
******
I wake up a few hours later to find that the coroner team I knocked down is taking Abasi away. She was young, and pretty, and the men aren’t above making disrespectful comments about her looks.
“When it’s your turn, we’ll have a really special ride to the morgue planned for you,” one of them says, when he sees me. “Too bad you won’t enjoy it as much as we will.”
I want to make him feel something he won’t soon forget, but I decide to turn the other cheek and walk away. I’m halfway to J.W.’s apartment when they decide to provoke me a little more.
“We should hang out here for a while. That guy will be dead in a couple of hours, and it would save us a trip.”
The biggest of the three runs after me, but I can hear that he’s going to give me a wide berth, so I don’t react. Through the open door to J.W.’s apartment, I see the camera change position so that it’s on me and the coroner. Someone is watching to see what happens next.
If the reporter is watching, she needs a show. She needs to understand what life is like in The Zone.
The coroner runs to the ice machine and scoops a bunch into a soft drink cup that had one last sip in the bottom. He tips the cup up to finish the drink, and then dumps the ice on the ground.
“I’m glad this ice machine got the chance to be useful today,” he says.
When I say nothing, he turns around and starts to scoop the ice directly onto the ground.
“You’re going to need some of that ice for your aching head, if you don’t walk away,” I say.
He stops and faces me.
“We all know what the ice is for. You’re wasting your time, and perfectly good ice. The doctors tried and they can’t save you people.”
“I know they tried,” I say. “They tried everything they could think of to do, and I appreciate that. The problem is that they stopped trying. You all stopped trying. You stopped trying to counteract the toxin. You stopped trying to give kindness and caring. You stopped trying to treat your fellow man with human dignity and respect. The only thing you’re good at trying - is trying to forget.”
I hear the camera zoom in on me.
“So maybe this is all just a waste of time and J.W. will die. Maybe he’ll melt into history, just like that ice you threw on the ground has melted, but at least I will have tried. I won’t have just thrown him onto the ground. I will have done everything that I can do to save him. More importantly, I will have given him the decency and respect he deserves through his last breath, and beyond.”
The coroner stares at his feet.
“But then, what if we’re all watching a miracle as it unfolds?” I continue. “What if J.W. survives? What if he’s the only person with the gene in the entire world to survive? Even saving just one man will have made it all worth it. And what will it have cost the world? A little bit of ice? A little bit of time and compassion? From where I stand, that’s a pretty good trade.”
“I hope you save him,” the coroner says, meekly.
I walk over and put my hand on his shoulder.
“I didn’t say all of those things as part of saving J.W.,” I say. “I said them as part of saving you.”
******
Hannah asks me to go for a walk and, once we’re out of sight of both J.W. and the camera, she speaks.
“His eyesight is nearly back,” she says. “He’s barely talking to me, and he won’t stop glancing at that hollow book. The worst part is, neither can I. I don’t want him to die, but if he’s going to die anyway, maybe it’s better for him to die quickly.”
“Is it so hard to believe in miracles?” I ask.
“Here, in The Zone, I guess it is,” she replies.
We’ve been walking down the row of container apartments and have arrived in front of mine; so I open the door and grab my backpack.
“There’s something I want you to have,” I say. “Always keep it safe, and keep it a secret.”
I hand her the little bag filled with gemstones that travelled through time once before. They’re virtually worthless in my time, but will make Hannah a very wealthy woman here. She pours them into her hand.
“Are these real?” she asks. “They’d be worth a fortune.”
“Never think of them as your own,” I say. “These gems are real, but they belong to Christ.
Everything you own belongs to Him, and you’ve been chosen to steward that wealth in His name. Use them as He would use them.”
She doesn’t know what to say.
“The big ruby shaped like a teardrop has always been my favorite,” I say. “It matched one that my grandmother wore as a necklace.”
“Then you keep it,” Hannah says.
I close her hand around them and shake my head; so she drops them all back into the bag.
She doesn’t have any time to ask more questions. Jake is running towards the open doors of J.W.’s apartment, so we run, too. When we catch him, we find him helping J.W. to his feet. J.W. managed to climb out of the ice bath, but fell as he reached for the red book.
“No more,” he says. “End this.”
I look at him. Even covered with half-healed sores and scars, he looks pale blue. I imagine how Job must have looked after enduring the devil’s torments.
“Put him on his bed,” I say. “We can take away the ice bath.”
We cover him with blankets, and as he falls asleep, as I hear the camera turn to watch his bed.
“Now what?” Hannah asks.
“Now, we pray.”
I take one of his hands, and Hannah takes the other, and we pray. I’m aware of others gathering outside, but I don’t stop. After a half an hour, I ask for water. When I look up to receive it, there are people as far as I can see outside the door - all on their knees. Behind them are new crews. Hannah quietly explains that the camera above me has been broadcasting us live on the Internet.
******
An hour later, J.W. wakes up in a sweat.
“Eleven,” he says.
Maybe so, but he’s turned a corner … whether he realizes it or not.
“The cold gave you enough time to build an immune response…” I say, “… but forget about toxins and antibodies and biochemistry. There’s one thing you need to focus on right now, and one thing only. Do you believe in miracles?”
“Miracles?”
“Yes. Do you believe that some power that you can’t comprehend could be at work to save your life? Do you believe that there really is an angel in The Zone?”
“I’m looking at her.”
“Not me. A real angel.”
“I think maybe angels come in many forms. Some of them have wings and harps. Some of them carry fancy fighting sticks and break teeth with it. In the end, if they manage to touch people’s hearts, what does it matter?”
The camera in the corner zooms again.
“Jocie? How did you know what I was planning to do with that toxin?”
“An angel told me.”
I stand up and retrieve the book, then open it, revealing an empty space.
“I took it a week ago,” I say.
“I thought removing temptation wasn’t the same as overcoming it,” Hannah says, from the doorway.
“I took the toxin. The temptation was still sitting on the shelf.”
J.W. smiles, but it fades from his face and his head droops, as he loses consciousness. I slap him lightly and say his name, but he doesn’t wake up. Soon, he begins to shake.
“Jocie, do something!”
“It’s not up to us anymore,” I say.
He shakes for an hour before regaining consciousness, screaming.
“The pain is at twelve out of ten,” he says, between gasps.
He looks at his screaming cloth, which is on his bedpost, but he can’t reach it. I pick it up and first look at it, and then the camera.
“This is part of the problem,” I say.
Standing in the doorway, I address the crowd and the cameras.
“It’s not a cloth to ease our suffering. It’s a gag. We are all the children of God, and we will not be silenced any longer! Whether we live or die, let God hear us, as we cry out to Him for mercy!”
I rip the cloth in two. Soon, members of the crowd are doing the same.
I lean down.
“I can’t call you J.W. anymore,” I say. “It’s time for you to use the name that God gave to you, Jordan.”
Hannah sits up.
“He’s never told anyone here his real name … not even me. How do you know it?” she asks.
“An angel whispered that into my ear, too.”
He’s my grandfather six times over. His name means ‘to flow down’ - and like the River Jordan, his mutated gene flowed down to me. Once it combined with the vaccine, it made me more than just immune. It made me the cure.
Over the next hour, Jordan’s shaking increases to the point where Hannah and I are virtually sitting on him to protect ourselves from his thrashing limbs. His cries of agony truly become cries seeking the mercy of God. He screams “I love you Lord” so many times that the crowd eventually joins him.
He owns his faith down to every last fiber of his being.
When he goes still and lets out a deep sigh, the shock of the sudden calm travels through the crowd like a wave.
Tears roll down Hannah’s face.
I lean down and whisper into his ear: “I believe in miracles.”
Then I reach up, and flip on the red light.