This cargo tube is no more comfortable than the others on which I’ve been; but the gentle vibration still lulls me to sleep on the hard floor, and I start to dream. In the dream, Martha and I are walking together on a white sand beach. We’ve run to a tropical island, leaving the world to fend for itself. What does it matter if Henry kills millions of Christians worldwide? We have each other.
“Want to go for a swim?” Martha asks.
“Sure,” I reply, and peel my shirt off over my head. As I start to bring my arms back down, they freeze in place, straight out to my sides.
“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” Martha asks.
I don’t reply. I’m staring out at my frozen arms. My hands are balled into fists and are swollen to many times their usual size. When I look down at my feet, they are locked together and also starting to swell.
“You’re in the wrong place, Cephas,” Martha explains. “I thought you were good at puzzles. You know that there’s only one place for each piece.”
My hands and feet have swollen so much, they look like giant balls on the ends of my arms and legs. I’m shaped just like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
“Find your proper place, Cephas.”
An unseen force lifts me up and moves me towards an empty space that I’m now shaped to fill.
I still have control of my puzzle piece head; so as I’m about to fall into place, I tilt my neck so that I no longer fit into place.
I don’t want this spot in the puzzle. I never asked for this spot - and I’m not going in willingly.
“You’ll find you’re the perfect fit for this spot,” the unseen voice of the puzzle maker says.
I keep my neck bent for a long time. I want to do things my way, rather than His.
“Please trust me, Cephas. I wouldn’t have chosen this spot for you if I didn’t know it was right.”
I slowly straighten my neck and feel myself sliding into place. The puzzle maker is right: I am the perfect fit in His puzzle.
I awaken with a start, as the puzzle piece me is pushed into place.
Cindi is asleep on the other side of the car, but Martha is awake.
“Nightmare?” she asks. “I’ve been having some bad ones too.”
“What are yours about?” I ask.
“I don’t want to talk about it. What was your dream about?”
“Puzzles,” I say. “I was a piece in somebody else’s puzzle, and the only place I fit was in a spot where I didn’t want to go.”
“Puzzles within puzzles. Secrets within secrets. God gave you the ability to see things I’ll never see, and to connect things in ways I’ll never understand. Sometimes I wish you would tell me what you see … and sometimes I’m afraid you will,” Martha says, staring into space.
We sit in silence for a long time.
“I once read a sermon from the late 1990’s,” I say. “In it, the pastor described the three parts of a man’s heart. The first part contains the things about himself that a man will tell a stranger he meets in the street. The second part contains the things that a man will share only with his family and his closest friends. The last part of his heart is full of the thoughts and emotions that a man won’t share even with his wife. It doesn’t matter if it’s his fears, his desires, or his shame, because it’s always something about himself that he doesn’t want to face. So, rather than face it, he locks it away in his heart and tries to keep it secret even from God Himself. So, you’re right Martha. I see how the pieces fit together. I just can’t seem to face it.”
My lovely bride looks at me, with tears welling up in her eyes. I take her hands in mine. She already knows; so I might as well face it and say it out loud.
“Martha, something’s coming. There are forces at work that I can’t control, and they’re pushing me to a place where I …”
My voice trails off, and I look away.
“No matter what I do to escape it, I can only see one possible path that God has in mind for me …”
Now my voice is beginning to quaver.
“And that path results in my…”
Death. Just say ‘death’ and get it over with. She already knows, and leaving it unsaid can’t protect her from it forever.
I take a deep breath and feel tears roll down my cheeks, as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I think I’m going to …”
I’m stopped abruptly, as she puts her index finger over my lips and makes a “Shhhhh” sound.
“I know,” she whispers. “But not today. Just tell me ‘not today,’ and we’ll live happy and free for today.”
“Not today,” I repeat back to her.
“Martha? If there’s ever a time when I can no longer say “Not today,” will you promise to do something for me? Will you turn your back on me and run?”
Part of me hopes to hear her say “Never,” but the closest she comes to speaking is the tears running down her cheeks.
How long has she known? For how long has she accepted it?
*****
Like most cargo cars, ours arrives in the middle of the night when there are fewer people travelling; so we’re able to sneak through the darkened station and out onto the streets without seeing anyone. Dallas is one of many cities that suffered when the Sunspot reactors were brought online and the need for fossil fuels ended. The city went through decades of decline in both population and appearance; but eventually the old buildings were knocked down or restored, and families started to move in to enjoy the mild climate and the many beautiful parks created where the city center once stood.
We decide not to use the hover line and, instead, walk through the darkened city. On the edge of one park, Martha spots what must have once been a magnificent building that’s now marked for destruction. The various signs indicate that the building attempted - but failed - to hold a number of businesses over its lifetime.
“I bet it was pretty in its heyday,” Martha says. “It’s in a great location near the river. I wonder why businesses couldn’t make it there.”
“After the very first business failed, maybe the building was cursed,” I reply.
“What was the first business?” Cindi asks; so I stop.
“Look at the front of the building. The center is done in brick, but the wings are in some sort of stucco material. The brick part protrudes outward and has those massive lights focused on it. Why light up the plain bricks and not the rest of the building?”
“Because brick is prettier than stucco?” Cindi suggests.
“There was something on the bricks … something to advertise the first business in the building,” I say. “I can’t see an outline in the glare of the flood lights, but maybe when the sun hits it just right, you can still see it.”
“A cross,” Martha says. “It was a church, and a giant cross hung on those bricks and was lit up at night.”
“That was a trick question. You said that it was a business,” Cindi replies.
“And I meant it. The building housed what people called a “mega church.” It probably did multiple services every Sunday, moving through tens of thousands of people and raking in millions of dollars per year. That sounds more like a business than worship, if you ask me.”
Next to the large building is a small and ancient stone structure. Although its steeple has been knocked off, it’s more obviously an old church than the “mega church,” whose shadow it sits within. The stone building houses a small law firm, and isn’t marked for destruction.
“The exalted mega church is soon to be humbled, and the humble stone church may someday be exalted. Choose your cornerstone well,” I say.
*****
When we’re through downtown, we make straight for the Dallas River. Near the river is an abandoned shack, and under the shack is the local Four safe house, known as “Trinity House;” but we’re not going there yet.
We make our way through a greenbelt and down to the river where, we wait and watch. Just as the sun starts to lighten the sky in the east, we see two hooded figures emerge from the woods near the shack, and then wait near the river. From farther upstream, a group of a dozen or so people start to make their way down to meet the two people in hoods. When the groups meet, they head into the river for Baptism. I tap the shoulders of Cindi and Martha, and they follow me to the water’s edge.
When the group sees us, they become uneasy. Three unexpected figures on the riverbank is never a welcome surprise. Just standing in a river could be enough of a public expression of faith that, if we were Federal agents, we could arrest them or, at least, hold them for questioning.
“Can we help you?” asks the taller of the hooded figures, a man.
He’s nervous, but also confident. Judging by his voice, he’s about thirty years older than I am, which is exactly what I expected.
“We’ve already been baptized, but may we join you?” I ask.
The smaller of the hooded figures, which I presume is a woman, cocks her head to one side as I speak, and grabs the man’s hand.
“Where were you baptized?” she asks.
“In the Sea of Galilee, by Simon Peter.”
I hear my name being whispered among the brothers and sisters standing in the river. Several take out cameras and start to catch the moment on video.
“Then don’t just join the Baptism, Cephas Paulson. Please perform it,” the hooded man says.
I walk into the river, and one-by-one the faithful are baptized. I’ll never get tired of seeing the look of joy on a person’s face as they emerge from the water. I send them, one-by-one, to the shore, where Martha and Cindi are giving them each a drink of the water I blessed, until just the hooded man and woman remain in the river with me. The woman has spent the entire time looking down, hiding her face from me. I speak softly, so only they will hear me.
“You were going to baptize these brothers and sisters, but have you been baptized by immersion yourselves? Or is the only baptism you’ve had the baptism by fire ten years ago, the night my parents died?”
“How’d you find us?” the man asks.
“Like all good puzzles, the pieces came together; but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that - outside of Martha and my cousins - you’re the only two people I can trust. You’re never in one place for very long, and you’re obviously good at disappearing and keeping secrets; so I want you to hold onto something for me - something that others are seeking. It’s in the black pack on the shore. Take it when Cindi and Martha aren’t looking.”
“How will we know what it is?” the man asks.
“Trust me. You’ll know.”
“I have a favor to ask of you, too,” the woman replies.
“Forgiveness?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d still be willing to baptize us.”
“Of course,” I reply.
“We call this the Dallas River now, but do you know its name before it was changed during Equalization? It was called the Trinity River, which is how Trinity House was named. Great place for a baptism, don’t you think?” the man asks.
As they emerge from the water, I catch just a glimpse of the woman’s face before she’s hidden again by her hood. She reminds me of the lepers I saw in ancient Israel, never allowing anyone to see their faces. The man makes his way to the shore and I see him deftly remove something from my pack, as Martha and Cindi continue to greet the newly baptized. The woman has remained by my side.
“Cephas. About the night when your parents died, and the decisions that were made…”
“If it helps, the only person I’m mad at regarding that night is myself,” I say. “I hadn’t seen enough pieces of the puzzle to figure out what Mom and Dad were really doing. I’m just glad you did. Besides, if you think about it, aren’t I the one who needs to ask you for your forgiveness?”
*****
The hooded man and woman disappear like ghosts, while I’m talking with the newly baptized on the bank of the river. These folks aren’t trained members of Four. They’re just souls who’ve felt lost, and have now found a path home. None of them are accustomed to constantly looking over the shoulders; so they don’t hear the footsteps descending on us through the woods. Martha hears it first and gives me a sign. Cindi’s in a conversation, but still picks it up. The footsteps are not moving like those of Federal agents. There’s no sign of stealth or covering moves of any kind; just walking feet.
Then I hear the greatest sound in the universe: The sound of children laughing. Martha and Cindi visibly relax as people start to filter through the trees towards us. A little girl squeals my name and runs to me, and I instinctively catch her with open arms.
“Well, hello!” I say and smile. “What’s your name?”
“Donna.”
She smiles back at me.
“How’d you know to find me here today, Donna?” I ask.
“Mommy and Daddy saw you on the news. They want you to baptize us, and then they’re going to ask you to marry them! You’ll marry them, won’t you, Cephas?”
“If you promise me that they really love each other and are getting married to follow God’s Word, then I’ll marry them.
“Yeah!”
Donna squeals and hugs me tightly around the neck.
“I knew you’d do it! I just knew it.”
Dozens and dozens keep coming through the trees.
“I’m glad you’re getting used to receiving little girl hugs,” Martha says. “But if our location is out there on video, don’t you think we should get moving?”
Martha’s eyes twitch to something over my shoulder without her head moving to betray that she’s seen something.
“Martha?” I ask without turning.
“On the other side of the river … I think a small surveillance drone just landed. If it is, it’s one of the ultra-small ones that flies like a hummingbird.”
“Why don’t you and Cindi take a little walk? Laugh and talk like you’re part of the crowd, and see if there are agents in area.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“I’m going to baptize, of course.”
I lead a group into the river, as Martha and Cindi begin their reconnaissance. When I reach the center of the river, I look up towards the heavens, as if for inspiration, and there can be no doubt: There are at least four high-level drones hovering over our location. Even the ones flying three thousand meters above me have cameras that can easily zoom in on my face, and the lower-level drones hiding among the tall buildings near the river can probably do a retinal scan on me. I want to laugh at the irony, when I see one drone perched on the old mega church like a vulture.
You wanted Henry to know you’d left Sheridan. There’s no doubt now.
Those wanting to be baptized keep coming, and keep taking videos. The cameras are linked to coms, which are automatically uploaded to the public information net. They’re password protected for privacy; but the right of privacy does not apply to the government, which owns the massive computers that store everything. A world that thrives on public sex in the name of “expression” isn’t exactly one that cares about its privacy.
As more videos are picked up by the media, more people come to be baptized. There’s no way to tell if someone is truly faithful, or if this is just another “new game” - like linking arms or plucking out coms in a crowd. As I look at the throngs of people, I can’t help but think of the many parables Jesus told. Who here is wheat, and who here is chaff that will be blown away as soon as the wind changes?
Martha wades into the river and whispers into my ear.
“Agents have set up a perimeter on both sides of the river, but are just holding position and letting people come and go. There are probably some inside the crowd, too. If one of them comes out to be baptized, they could easily shoot you.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Fighting our way out isn’t an option. There are too many of them. Our best bet is to sneak out with the crowd. Keep baptizing, for now. I’ll watch the line for weapons.”
After an hour, the number wanting baptism slows. The kill teams are still holding a perimeter, but doing nothing, as people come and go. As far as we can tell, they aren’t even trying to record who’s been here.
Something has changed. Henry’s holding his troops back for a reason … but, why?
Just then, a man on the riverbank, who may be one of Henry’s agents, yells: “Cephas! What about the plague? What are you going to do about that?”
So that’s it. Henry can’t destroy Jesus; so he wants to raise me up as an effigy, then destroy me in Jesus’ place.
“Save us, Cephas!” yells a man from the other side of the crowd.
“Overthrow the government!” yells a third.
The priming is enough to set off loud discussions inside the crowd. There’s arguing and shoving, as everyone tries to get their opinion out. This is going to be a great set of clips for Henry to exploit.
I turn my back to the crowd, and walk further into the river.
They’re just like the people of ancient Israel, and Henry might as well be the Emperor of Rome. They want a savior to give them their material needs here on earth, when they should be worried about what will become of their souls. Jesus never promised His followers a comfortable life, and neither can I.
Lord? Was anyone saved here today? Did I reach even a single heart?
As if in answer, I feel a small, warm hand gently take mine. I look down to see Donna smiling up at me, and I can’t help but smile back at her. The crowd goes quiet at the sight of us.
“Don’t worry, Cephas. I don’t mind if you can’t stop the plague. I’ll be with Jesus in heaven. Thank you for marrying Mommy and Daddy today. Now we can all be in heaven together, and that’s what Jesus really wants.”
“Do you know what would make me feel a lot better?” I ask.
Donna shakes her head.
“Another hug.”
I bend down so she can grab me around the neck. I pick her up and start walking towards the shore.
“I’m thirsty,” I add. “I have some special water that came all the way from West Virginia. Let’s find your parents and go have a drink.”
Thank you, Lord.