“What is it?” Martha asks.
“These symbols are much newer than the hieroglyphics found during the time when this tomb was carved.”
“What do they say?” Martha asks.
I ignore her question. I don’t like what they mean.
“Look, there’s a dimple in the ceiling plaster where someone tried to cover a hole but it shrank in as it dried,” I say.
I start digging out the plaster with a small knife as Geoff and James rejoin us.
“The Princess Chamber is a dead end,” Geoff announces, “but you can see where they broke in through the ceiling and where the original entryway was before it filled with sand.”
I manage to free a plug of plaster as Martha explains to the others that I may have found something.
“What do the symbols mean?” James repeats Martha’s question.
For me, they mean I need to trust the Lord.
“They mean this is the spot.”
I poke my finger up into the hole and can feel a piece of wood that moves upward a little as I press on it.
“It’s some form of ancient lock. I’m pushing up on a pin that must lock a door, but my finger isn’t long enough to more than wiggle it. We need something that’ll fit into this hole.”
James leaves the room and returns with a crook and flail that were being held by a stuffed Anubis prop for the movies.
The handle of the flail is too big, but the crook fits the hole. With it I’m able to push upwards on the pin a couple of centimeters.
“Nothing happened,” Geoff says.
“This is just the locking pin. We must need to push the door open ourselves. Try just below the symbols.”
Geoff and James push and a vertical hairline crack appears in the plaster.
Martha takes a turn holding up the pin so Albert and I can add our weight to the effort. When a horizontal crack appears at about waist level we laugh, as we realize the door is smaller than a modern door and much of our efforts have been wasted against solid wall. We adjust ourselves lower and the door starts to move in earnest, pivoting on a central pillar. With one last effort, the door breaks free of the modern plaster and spins freely, opening to a room that shocks us as we’re bathed with bright modern lighting.
We all draw weapons, but there’s nobody in the area.
The chamber is larger than the two that we just left and is filled with artifacts that have been treated roughly by the modern intrusion. Most have been heaped against the outer perimeter; many appear to have been broken for fun as they were thrown aside to make way for modern equipment. The wall opposite us has a crude opening where the drilling robots must have broken through, which is now the entryway for dozens of power and computer cables.
The center of the room has a massive hole in the floor, and a familiar shape of lasers and tinfoil hangs above it.
“Remind me to never doubt you again,” Albert says.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I say. “Geoff, see if you can figure out the destination time of the last transport from that computer terminal. Martha and James, secure the opening in case someone comes back. Albert, get ready to blow this thing to dust.”
They all spring to action on my orders.
“Why the hole in the floor?” asks James. “Why not just transport from up here?”
“This room must have been full of too much stuff. They needed a spot that was clear of artifacts in both the present and the past.”
I look through the hole in the floor. On the level below, I can see two travel arenas; the one that was sent back in time and the one that stayed here to create the link.
Albert starts setting his explosive charges on the time machine.
“I’m sorry, Cephas,” Geoff reports. “It looks like you were right. Someone was sent back to a point three weeks before the Travelers Initiative.”
Plenty of time to travel to Jerusalem, find you, and kill you. So there can only be one reason why I’m still here.
Martha sees what I’m thinking.
“You’re still here; so their mission must have failed.”
Not quite. The pieces of this puzzle can only mean one thing.
“We need to blow up the travel arena too,” I say.
“I’ll go down and set the charge,” Albert replies.
“No. You finish up here. I’ll go down.”
There’s a smaller hole in the floor near where the drills broke through, with a rope leading down into it. I shine a light down and see why: The original stairs were made of wood and are sitting in a dry-rotted heap on the floor. As I lower myself, I’m glad the training I’ve done with Martha included a ropes course. When I reach the bottom, I kick over a pile of the old boards and let out a yelp as if I’ve fallen.
“You okay?” Martha asks.
“I twisted my ankle pretty badly,” I lie.
The lower chamber is smaller than the one above. On the far wall is a large stone sarcophagus that contains the original occupant. The top has been levered off and the mummy case removed. Whoever was buried here must have had money because it was a nice case. Unfortunately, it’s been marred by tomb robbers, who pried out the precious stones and gold inlays that, I assume, once adorned it.
I walk over to the travel arena and look up through the hole.
“Drop me the charge,” I call to Albert.
“It’s all set to go.”
He drops it down to me. I catch it and look at it in the dim light, then pull the wires out of the explosive.
“Albert. The wires came out.”
“Can you toss it back up?”
“I don’t think so. Send Martha down. This arena is taller than the one I used and my ankle hurts too much to jump. I’ll boost her up to set the charge.”
Martha glides down the rope with ease and joins me. She’s so light and strong, I know she can glide back up almost as quickly. I hand her the charge and she sticks the wires back where they belong.
“We’ve got company!” we hear James say in a muffled voice, followed by the sound of a stun gun.
Right on schedule.
His face appears in the hole above us.
“Set that charge. There’s going to be reinforcements soon.”
I boost Martha and she sets the charge; then runs for the rope. We can hear a lot more shooting above us. It sounds much more powerful than a standard stun gun.
“You go first,” Martha says.
I look up at the hole. I wish it was my escape route, but it isn’t.
“You and I are leaving through a different exit. I’m sorry, Martha. I’m so sorry.”
“Geoff,” I yell up the hole. “We’re not leaving with you guys. Martha and I need to go after the assassins. Set the time machine to transport us to a point a few days after they arrived and blow this cursed thing up as soon as we’re gone.”
Just over two weeks to get to Jerusalem. It’ll be tight.
“No! If we do that, you’ll be trapped back in time and we need you here.”
“If we don’t go back, they’ll kill me. We’re the ones who make their mission fail. Those symbols on the wall were in my handwriting, I carved them over two thousand years ago. I’m sorry, Geoff, but this is the way it has to be.”
Geoff and Albert start to argue, but James stares down the hole and into my eyes.
“Trust me cousin,” I say. “Send us, and blow this thing up.”
“I’m sorry, Geoff,” James says. “We’re doing it his way.”
Geoff growls and heads for the controls.
I look around. In a recess in the wall there’s a small clay urn with an unbroken wax seal. On the wall beside it there’s a stain where something was splattered over two thousand years ago. I smile and grab the urn.
“Albert, there’s no time to explain. I’m tossing up an urn. Take it with you and open it when you’re safe.”
“Why do I need an old urn?”
“Don’t doubt me,” I say as I toss it up to him. “We’re heading for the arena. Transport us and get out of there.”
A small explosion rocks us as we dive into the arena. Albert must have had something up his sleeve to slow down the assault. Without a word, Martha and I take off our backpacks and start throwing out everything that contains any sort of technology that could explode in transport.
“Charging!” Geoff yells.
“Here they come,” James yells, as we hear multiple stun blasts.
“One minute to detonation!” Albert yells.
“Pivot the door back when you go through. It’ll protect you from some of the blast,” I yell.
“Thirty seconds to transport.”
“It’s one heck of a ride,” I say to Martha, then toss my light out of the arena and close the door.
“Ten seconds,” Geoff’s voice is now far away and there’s constant stunner fire. The team must be standing at the pivoting door and trading fire until the very last moment to keep Corps agents away from the controls.
“There was an old saying that before you marry someone, you should take a long trip together - just to make sure you truly know each other,” I say to Martha.
“I would’ve settled for a nice cruise.”
“Five seconds.”
“Geoff! James! Get out of there!” Albert yells.
“Are you ready to give up the rest of Four’s secrets?” I ask Martha.
“Why?”
“Because we’re about to spend a lifetime together.”
****
This void, this being trapped between two ticks on the second hand of a clock while body and soul are transported through time, is something I could get used to. Since I’ve been through it, I know to reach out with mind to Martha. I know I should speak and make her aware of my presence, but I decide to just watch her think for a while.
She’s thinking about her childhood, and I can see it all in my mind as she does. I see she has an older brother named Eddie she’s never mentioned to me. Martha was raised off grid, while Eddie was raised on the grid. I see Martha felt lonely and isolated when she was growing up because she only got to play with other kids who were also off the grid; hence her close friendship with my cousin, Cindi. I see her having arguments with her brother over who had the better lot in life. She argues she feels like she can’t even go outside, and he argues that being on the grid means he can be tracked his whole life - while someday she’ll be free to come and go as she pleases.
Then I see a childhood scene I didn’t expect. Martha is at my Aunt Kimberly’s house for Easter. Even if I didn’t feel who the woman is through Martha’s thoughts, I’d know it’s my aunt because she has the same ice blue eyes as my Mother. Martha is about to turn sixteen years old and is helping to clear the dirty dishes from a large table. In the middle of the table is the unused place setting my aunt had set for me. Martha and Aunt Kimberly are speaking about it.
“Aunt Kimberly? Why set a place for someone you know isn’t coming?”
“To remind me someone is missing from our home, but is still in our hearts.”
“Do you think you’re in his heart right now too?” Martha asks.
“He doesn’t even know he has a family; but deep down maybe he’s looking for us.”
“Cindi told me all about him. She says Cephas works for the F.B.I. now and they call him “The Cult Hunter” because he’s hunted down so many believers. If he’s looking for us, it sounds like he’s looking to kill us. I turn sixteen next month and when I do, I’m joining Four. I’m going to learn how to strike back and hurt people like Cephas.”
“Really? If he were to walk through my door, I’d welcome him to the table and forgive him,” Aunt Kimberly replies.
“Not everyone deserves to be forgiven.”
“How lucky for Cephas that you don’t get to judge him.”
Kimberly smiles and Martha is shocked into silence, but I can feel her anger.
The scene in Martha’s mind shifts to where she and Cindi are joining the Four movement together, followed by memories of the intense training. Martha takes on every challenge her Four instructors throw at her, fueled by constant anger.
Cephas? Are you watching my memories?
Yes, Martha. I’m sorry.
It’s okay. I want you to see them.
Even as she thinks it, I can sense her placing a mental barrier around her family and directing me to see other things. Although I’m sure I could break through the mental wall, I don’t try to pry on her family. Considering the secrets I’m hiding from her, I’m in no position to pry.
Martha shifts to the day she and Cindi volunteered to move to Colorado Springs and infiltrate my class. Austin is briefing them on the mission.
“Dr. Cephas Paulson has done more to cripple the worldwide Christian movement than anyone,” Austin says. “Thousands were lost in Rajid’s organization due to intercepted communications, including Rajid himself. His organization has been taken over by his nephew, Garai. Even so, Paulson’s writings are intriguing. He tries harder to understand Christianity than most Christians. Frankly, I have to wonder if Jesus isn’t already at work in the man’s heart.”
“But what if that’s not it all, Austin?” Martha asks. “What if he’s just evil? What if he wants to understand Christianity simply to find and kill Christians? Is it worth the risk? Shouldn’t we consider removing him?”
“It’s not within Christ’s message to kill someone who opposes us.”
“I couldn’t do it,” Cindi says. “No matter what he’s done, he’s still my cousin.”
“Your job is to attend his class - nothing more,” Austin continues. “Ask him questions; get a feel for how he thinks. If we think his heart is right, we’ll decide if we want to risk contacting him.”
“I’ve been studying him and I already know how he thinks,” Martha says. “He thinks like a predator. Let’s see how he likes being hunted for a change.”
You really thought of me like that? I ask.
There’s more.
Martha switches to a conversation she and Cindi had during their mission to my class in Colorado Springs.
“I think Austin was right, Martha,” Cindi says. “He isn’t a hunter at all. He’s just curious and brilliant.”
“You’re blinded because he’s your cousin. I don’t care what Austin says. Being an observer isn’t good enough. I’m going to talk to him outside of class. We’ll see how innocent and charming he is once he’s off that stage.”
Her memory then skips to speaking with Cindi after Martha and I have dinner together for the first time.
“So, how was dinner?” Cindi asks.
“Innocent and charming. We passed by an abortion kiosk and he seemed, I don’t know, I guess the best word is ‘disturbed.’ It was like watching the end of a life hurt him down to his soul. After that, he said some things I never expected. He said he never wanted to hunt Christians; he just wanted to understand the Christian faith.”
“Whoa. That’s huge. You need to report everything to Austin.”
“I can’t report quite everything,” Martha replies.
“What do you mean?”
“I remembered what Austin said, that maybe Jesus is already at work in Cephas’ heart. By the time we were done eating, I knew Austin was right. Then, when we were saying goodbye, I looked in his eyes and - I don’t know why, but - I kissed him.”
“What do you mean, you kissed him? You mean on the cheek, like a friend, right?”
“No. I mean I kissed him. Full mouth, on the lips face-sucking.”
“What did he do?”
“He kissed me back. Did he ever kiss me back!”
The memory of that kiss will be with me for the rest of my life, I say.
I have no doubt, you seem to remember everything. It’s actually a little unsettling to experience the workings of your brain.
What do you mean?
Cephas, normal people don’t have your sort of observational skills or memory recall; so being here is overwhelming. It’s taking intense concentration just to block most of it out. Given the way you solve puzzles, I’d expect you to have great factual recall, but I never dreamed anyone could have your emotional recall. When we were remembering our first kiss just now, I could remember the feelings I had at the time… but you actually felt them all over again. Is that normal for you all the time?
Yes.
How I envy you that.
Don’t.
Why?
Because I’d give anything to be able to forget. How would you like to remember and feel again the day your parents died? Or maybe you’d like to re-experience how you felt as you read the reports detailing the last moments of the Christians you helped to murder? Don’t envy me this, Martha.
Cephas? Are you feeling my emotions as I remember things?
Yes.
Her memories switch to seeing the news videos where the media announces Jocie has a new man toy and showing pictures that seem to depict me groping Jocie.
Martha, the anguish was crushing you. Why are you making me feel this?
She switches her memory to an hour later, when the media covered the impromptu news conference where I left Jocie’s private hover bus, the first man ever to refuse to have sex with her. The joy Martha felt seems limitless.
That’s when I first admitted to myself I was falling in love with you, Cephas. The pain and the joy go together. The pain of losing your parents is a reflection of the love you felt for them. The remorse of being The Cult Hunter is a reflection of the joy you found in repentance, when you turned your sins over to Christ. Focus on the joy.
Thank you, Martha. Now it’s your turn. Let me show you some things.
I show her my childhood with my Aunt Jennifer, where I was left for hours to study ancient languages as my aunt prepared me to be the greatest abolitionist ever. Unlike Jennifer, Martha gets to peer inside my heart and see how reading about religious history resulted in a thirst to draw closer to God rather than a desire to destroy religion, as Jennifer had hoped.
You had no religious instruction, and yet you found faith.
I found faith, but I didn’t understand it.
Your faith is so pure. You have no doctrinal biases; you have no agenda. You spent all that time reading the Bible with nobody but God to mold your thoughts. It makes perfect sense that He chose you to go back in time - like He created you for the job.
If my faith is pure, it’s because I have no religion; just belief in Jesus. But I’m glad you described me as having pure faith rather than a pure heart. My heart is as sinful as anyone’s. Do you remember how I defined religion in my lecture?
You said it’s an institution created by man to take power over other men.
That’s right, but that isn’t how Christianity began. The Apostles had no doctrines other than those given to them by Jesus. They didn’t have religion, just faith. Religious division all came later - man’s perversion of the message.
Before she responds, I move on to other thoughts. I let her feel the storm that raged inside of me as I helped the F.B.I. hunt down Christians, and the love that grew for her as we got to know each other. Even as I try to direct my thoughts and memories, I can feel her in the background, searching through my memories for things she wants to know. I’m the one who said time travel would be a lifetime together; so I stop trying to shield those memories and try to be an open book, without overwhelming her.
Well, almost an open book. There are a couple of things I’d rather not share, which Martha can sense. She wonders for a moment why the number eleven thousand three hundred and twenty-three is significant to me, but, thankfully, moves to things she really wants to see.
I’m surprised to find that she’s still probing my memories of Jocie, as if she feels threatened by them. She reviews the times Jocie stood before me naked. Martha giggles in my mind when she sees how awkwardly I tried to look at anything but Jocie’s naked body the first time I met her. Martha is awed by the battle of wills Jocie and I fought a few weeks later, as I locked eyes with her and refused to take even a glimpse, as she again stood naked before me.
She was considered the most desirable woman in the world; yet, in a way, she disgusted you… but there’s more. I can feel there’s something you don’t want me to see, Martha says.
My mental wall is breaking around one secret, while getting stronger around another.
It’s lust. Cephas, you are just full of lustful thoughts. Well, it’s understandable, even if you were resisting her. Jocie had quite the body.
The only way to keep up one mental wall is to let the other one go; so I allow the dam to burst. Martha is flooded with images of herself: Her eyes, her legs, and the way her hair falls around her shoulders when she lets it out of a bun. All are images that have been burned into my memory.
Oh! Oh, my. It’s me. Those lustful thoughts are all about me.
Martha. I try so hard to guard my thoughts when you’re around.
I see that now. Cephas, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.
You have nothing to be sorry about. For you to be sorry is like saying a woman deserves to be raped for dressing too sexy. These are my uncontrolled thoughts. This is my problem.
I could cover up more. I could dress more modestly.
Where does that end, Martha? Muslim women used to wear robes from head-to-toe with just their eyes showing, and would still be beaten for having eyes that were too provocative. They tried to explain the coverings away as honoring God, but the practical truth is that it’s mostly men who allow lustful thoughts to control them. Pagan women in Africa used to walk around topless and the men there thought nothing of it. The sin is either in your heart or it’s not, regardless of what someone else is wearing. I’m sorry, Martha, but I have a sinful heart. It’s why I need a Savior.