After the shaking stops, the crowd calms down and the sun returns to normal. People wander away, trying - in their own minds - to make sense of what happened here today. My past-self is asleep on the ground, exhausted from the experience.
“Shall we go?” I ask.
“I think we’re still needed here,” Martha replies.
I follow the line of her sight and see the two assassins standing at a distance. From the motions of their hands, they appear to be arguing about something.
“They’re probably deciding if they should kill me now or kill me later.”
“They don’t know there’s anyone here who understands English,” Martha says. “Let’s get closer and listen.”
With the crowd dispersed, we stick out like a sore thumb, but we’re able to get to within ten meters from them without them even glancing at us. I wish I could pull back my hood to hear them better, but if they see two of me, I have no doubt there’ll be trouble. Martha and I kneel, as if praying, and listen.
“He’s asleep. Let’s just kill him now and be done. What’s it matter if it’s now or at the cave tomorrow?” the smaller of the two says.
“It matters because that’s the deal. The deal is, he writes the note tomorrow and then we kill him,” the big guy replies.
“What do we care about Henry’s deal? The money is already waiting for us when we get back, if he writes the note or not.”
“If we’re going to break the deal, then I’m ready to break the whole thing. This hit just doesn’t feel right anymore. We watched Jesus heal people for three days. Doesn’t that count for anything? And today the sun went dark and the earthquake hit, just when Jesus dies. I’m thinking I want to talk to this Cephas guy more than I want to kill him.”
“If you try to back out on me, I’ll kill you both. We’re getting enough money to live like kings for life. We let them rip out all our enhancing and came back two thousand years for this job, and I’m not letting an earthquake change that.”
“Okay. But we’re not killing him here and I’m talking to him before we kill him. And after that, we’re going to hang around at the tomb and see what happens.”
“What do you think you’re going see at the tomb? An angel?”
“Maybe.”
“The only angels I want to see are the women I plan to buy with the money we make. Fine, we’ll let him sleep and then we’ll start tailing him. It’ll make the cave easier to find anyway. We have time, let’s eat.”
They walk back towards the city.
“Our next appointment is in Bethany, early tomorrow. Are you ready for that bath and a little nap?” I ask Martha.
****
Our “little nap” turns into about eight hours of sleep for me, and almost ten hours for Martha. I use the time alone to carve the Roman numerals into the staff. I don’t know why I didn’t do it earlier. Lately, I’ve felt like the whole world has a timing to it, and it just wasn’t the right time to carve the numerals until now.
It would be difficult to leave the city unnoticed, on horseback in the middle of the night, so we leave on foot through a small walking gate the Romans leave open, but guarded at night. We reach Bethany an hour before dawn and start sneaking around in the shadows, watching the barn where my past-self is sleeping right now. Martha is first to spot the assassins. They, too, are watching the barn.
Just before dawn, the woman of the house comes out and starts to tend the farm animals. She has some old bread she’s breaking up and feeding to the chickens. When she gets to the last large chunk, she tosses it to the flock, but then picks it back up and takes it into the barn, where I’m sleeping.
I can’t believe I ate that.
A while later, I see myself emerge from the barn and resume my trek to the arena cave. Martha and I wait until we see the assassins leave their spot in the shadows, then we start following them. After several minutes of careful tailing, Martha taps me on the shoulder.
“You have no clue you’re being followed. What tipped you off?”
“I should hear them running up behind me soon.”
“Why would they start running?”
“I don’t know. I just heard the footsteps behind me.”
We watch as I continue to stroll and the assassins continue their quiet pursuit.
“Are there any dangerous snakes around here?” Martha asks.
“A few. Why?”
Without a word, Martha picks up a snake that was hunting for rodents, grabbing it behind the head. She flings it at the assassins, then grabs my hand and pulls me into the shadows as the snake hits the bigger of the two in the back. He lets out a little yelp when he sees what hit him and starts to run. I watch myself look over my shoulder and start to run from the assassins.
“Through here,” I say.
We run between two buildings. I can see the alley where my past-self will soon double-back to escape the assassins, and position myself and Martha on either side of the narrow space where I’ll emerge. Seconds later, we can hear me running down the alley and, at the last moment, I stick my staff out and send myself tumbling onto the ground.
Martha and I then press ourselves flat against the buildings and wait for the two assassins to emerge. The smaller guy gives an ugly smile when he sees my past-self on the ground. The sound of my staff whizzing through the air makes him glance in my direction just a split second before the staff hits him square in the mouth. I use the other end of the staff to sweep him off his feet, and then whack him across the temple, which leaves him stunned senseless.
I move back to a fighting stance to help Martha with the bigger assassin, but it’s already too late for him. He was caught off guard, so Martha stunned him by boxing both ears. As he doubles over in pain, Martha lands a knee to his face, followed by a kick to the groin which sends him to the ground, where he rolls over and vomits his breakfast.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my past-self inching away from us.
“Stop,” I command myself gruffly in Latin, while pointing the staff.
Martha checks the possessions of the assassins and comes away with two coin purses, several knives, two objects wrapped in leather bundles, and a sealed modern envelope. She opens the paper and smiles as she reads.
She and I exchange a look and nod. I toss the staff to my past-self.
“Run,” I say in a gruff voice, then I watch as the old me sprints back through the alley and down the road towards Jericho.
****
The would-be assassins are easy to tie up, using their own Egyptian clothing. Underneath, they’re still wearing modern shirts and pants.
Martha hands me the envelope she found in the big guy’s pocket. Her guess was correct, the note is a perfect forgery of my handwriting. We heard them say yesterday that I would get to write a note today, but then they would kill me. That means this note is meant to replace the note I sent as I traveled to Galilee.
My original note said:
To the People of the World:
Jesus was crucified, but by the time I reached the tomb everyone was gone. I have followed his apostles and have seen neither his dead body nor him risen from the dead. Although I’m eager to return to our time, I must complete my mission, so I’m following the apostles to Galilee to get final proof. Check for notes daily starting in one week.
The forgery reads:
To the People of the World:
I saw Jesus crucified and saw where he was buried. I watched the tomb all night, and saw the apostles steal the body while the guards slept. The guards made up the story about the angel so they wouldn’t be punished. Although I’m eager to return to our time, I think it would be best to get physical proof that the body was stolen. I’m following the apostles to Galilee to find out where they buried him. Check for notes daily starting in one week.
“So the plan was to kill me and send back a forgery. Then, when I disappear, it’ll just be assumed the apostles caught me in the act and killed me. Simple and effective.”
“Why let you send the note today?” Martha asks. “The one you send today has the hidden message to Four. Why would Henry want that note to come forward through time?”
“You said that note caused Four to become more active worldwide. Maybe he wants you active. Maybe he thinks it’ll be easier to find you and wipe you out? Let’s ask these two when they wake up.”
“What’s in the two leather bundles?” I ask.
Martha starts to unwrap the bundle closest to her.
“No way! Why didn’t the tech in this thing explode?”
She holds up a handgun and two clips of ammunition. I take the weapon from her and inspect it.
“It’s because these are almost two hundred years old. It says on the side that it was made in 2023. That’s a decade before electronics were required to be incorporated into projectile guns. It doesn’t have all of the modern computer-assisted target identification software on it, but it will still blow a large hole in things.”
I unwrap the second gun and hold it. Physically, it feels natural to hold a gun - and I’m sure I could be as accurate with it as I am with a stun gun - but for the first time, a gun is giving me an uneasy feeling.
“Now I wish we’d brought the horses. We need to get these guys moving before the neighborhood wakes up,” I say. “I have an idea. Don’t speak in English. Let them think you’re from this time.”
“How will we talk to each other?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to just act like a married couple and communicate without speaking.”
We poke, prod, and slap the men until they stop groaning and regain their senses.
“On your feet, boys. Time for a little walk.”
The two failed assassins stumble along with their hands tied. The town of Bethany is stirring and we’re seen by many, but apparently having two foreigners marched off by Romans is either a common sight or considered none of their concern. We direct them into a ravine where there are no houses, and sit them down in the dirt. I speak a few commands to Martha in Aramaic and she does a passable job of pretending she understands.
“Sending someone to kill me is low, even for Henry,” I say in English.
“Now I wish he’d listened to me and killed you when he had you on his tube car,” the smaller one says.
“What are your names?”
I get a defiant look from the small one and silence from the big one.
“Okay. Here’s a more interesting question. Why are you going to let me send a note forward in time today, but replace the next note with this one? Why not just kill me today?”
“That was the deal,” the big one replies. “And my name is Michael and his is Francis.”
“Shut up,” Francis says.
“Can I call you Cephas?” Michael asks.
“Sure, Michael. In your line of work, I bet you don’t get to be on a first-name basis with your targets ... at least not for long.”
“It’s like this, Cephas. You know more about the Bible than anyone. Since we got here, I’ve seen some things that make me wonder. I saw people healed, including you. I saw the sun go dark and I felt the earthquake when Jesus died. Not much scares me, but now I’m scared of going to hell.”
Francis continues to glare at Michael.
“You should be afraid. You didn’t even know you had a soul, and now you find you have the responsibility for caring for it.”
“I’ve done some really bad things. Is it too late?” Michael asks.
“You’ll have to answer for your sins, but it’s never too late. Francis, you don’t look convinced. Early tomorrow, Christ will rise from the dead. Would that convince you?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“So what shall we do all day?” I ask.
“Don’t you have a note to send forward?” Francis replies.
Good. They haven’t figured out that there are two of me.
“Yes, but I can’t leave you alone here with her. She’d likely kill you before I get back.”
They give Martha nervous glances.
“And if I take her with me, you’d most likely escape.”
“Then I guess we all go to the cave,” Michael says.
“I guess so.”
****
I can’t take them onto the road, because my past-self will be walking back to Jerusalem and we can’t risk running into me. Instead, I take them up and down the hills. With their hands bound the walking is very slow, but that’s my objective. As we walk, I tell Bible stories. I tell them about Moses and Saul. I tell them about Jonah, Samson, and King David. Michael is very interested and asks many questions - like a little kid. Francis is inventing new and unusual excuses to fall down, and each time, he scrapes the crude ropes that are binding him along the rocks to fray them.
I call a rest break in a small valley. The arena cave is less than a kilometer away.
“This is as far as you guys go. I hid the entrance well, and I’d rather not lead the two of you straight to it.”
Francis gets a curious look on his face. I can’t tell if he already knows the location of the cave or not. I suspect he’s worried he can’t find it on his own.
“What do you care if we know where the cave is?” he asks.
“Why would the location matter to you?” I ask. “You can’t have come here through the same arena. You must have another cave around here somewhere that’s your route back.”
Francis smiles.
“Let’s take something off the table right now,” I say. “The part of your mission where you send this forgery is over.”
I take the note from my pack and rip it in half, then stuff it back into the pack.
“I hope you’ll call off the part where you kill me, once you see Christ risen.”
I pretend to instruct Martha in Aramaic. She babbles back at me for fun. We even pretend to argue about something.
“She promised not to kill you - but, just the same, I wouldn’t make any sudden movements.”
I head off in the wrong direction, then double back towards the arena cave. I watch my past-self bury the cave entrance and walk away towards the road. I open the envelope that contained the forged “Note to the World” and remove a smaller piece of paper that went unnoticed by Martha. It’s just a corner of a sheet that has been ripped from a notebook page, but contains a short note to Henry, explaining the assassination plan and promises details to follow. Then I tear a corner from my notebook and write a note of my own, dig out the cave entrance, and place it inside the envelope my past-self just left in the arena.
****
When I get back, the two men are saying any number of strange things to Martha and watching her reaction.
“Where’d you pick her up, anyway?” Francis asks.
“I saved her life. She belongs to me.”
“Really? I’ve been watching her eyes as we’ve been talking. I think she knows some English. And that cloak you’re wearing isn’t the same one you were wearing before, and you both seem to be wearing modern shoes.”
“Francis Guttman,” I say, and he smiles. “You were at the Bureau when I did a seminar on observational skills. You sat in the back and scowled the entire time, but I see you were paying attention.”
“How’d you get here?” Francis asks.
“Same as you, the arena under the Sphinx. We came to keep you from killing me. I hate to tell you guys this, but the whole thing was blown to bits after we left. We’re all stuck here together.”
Francis smiles again.
Thank you, Francis. It’s just as I suspected.
“Cephas?” Martha says and Francis laughs when she speaks in English. “Now that we’ve saved you, can’t we all just use the arena that’s in the cave right now?”
“Care to take that one, Francis?” I ask.
He turns to Martha.
“How? We can’t get pulled forward during the Travelers’ Initiative because the whole world is watching that arena. We could get pulled forward after the Traveler’s Initiative is over - but before the machine is moved to Egypt - but there isn’t anyone on the other end who expects us to be in the arena, so there’s no reason to activate the device.”
“Cephas was sending secret notes to Henry, along with the messages to the world,” Martha says. “We could send him a note telling him to do another pull a week after Cephas returns.”
“That would pull us forward in time to a point before we left,” Francis responds. “Since none of us remember the power going out all over the world a week after the Traveler’s Initiative, that creates some form of a causation paradox. We became stuck here the moment you blew up the machine in Egypt.”
Francis is a very good liar.
Martha is still trying to think of a scenario that will get us home, but I cut her thinking short.
“Since the timeline is safe, and you no longer have a reason to kill either the ‘present’ me or my past-self, I guess there’s no need to leave you two tied up.”
I take out a knife and cut their ropes.
“Let’s head back to Jerusalem. Since this is our new home, it’s time for you two to get right with God.”