I crawl into bed beside Martha. I was praying aloud, so I’m surprised she didn’t wake up. I somehow manage to drift off for a while; but I wake up as I feel Martha first jolted out of her sleep, and then slip slowly out of bed. We have the only room in the basement of Gethsemane House with a private bathroom; but she walks past it and leaves, closing the door quietly behind herself.
I wait five minutes, and when she doesn’t return, I slip out after her - wondering if she needs comforting. I see the door to Cameron’s room is slightly ajar, so I walk to it and listen; then ease my head inside and find that his room is empty. I glide down the hallway until I hear Martha’s voice in the conference room. She and Cameron are talking privately.
“I’m just saying that the whole mission is a little strange. There’s something Cephas isn’t telling anyone …not even you,” Cameron says.
“I know,” Martha replies, “but he sees things that we don’t see. There’s some puzzle coming together in his head, and we can’t even see the pieces - much less the picture that needs to be formed.”
“Why doesn’t he tell you? You’re his wife.”
Cameron chokes a little on the last part.
“If there’s anything I learned from time travel, it’s that there’s a price to be paid for knowing what’s going to happen, before it happens,” Martha replies. “As the puzzle comes together in his head, he’s paying a steeper and steeper price for the knowledge he carries. I can see it on his face. I know he’d like to tell me … but he won’t let me pay the price along with him.”
They stand in silence for a minute.
“Cephas knows that he can’t protect you. When we were under the tube, he told me that loving him is going to get you hurt someday,” Cameron says.
“What else did he say?” Martha asks.
“He told me how much he loves you, and I have to admit I’ve never seen love like that in any man’s eyes before. Cephas loves you, down to the very core of his being. Like Christ commanded us, he loves you more than he loves himself. On the other hand, he’ll do anything to protect you, and - frankly - that makes him dangerous on this mission.”
I hear Martha sit down and start to sob.
“Please don’t cry, Martha. We’re taking the entire combat team. He’s going to be fine.”
“That’s why I came to you,” Martha says. “I had this dream where Cephas was captured and tortured, and everything they did to him, I felt along with him. I’m telling you it’s real. I may not feel it on my body; but if he’s captured, every strike of the lash they give to him I’ll feel the pain in my soul. Whatever’s coming, I can’t let him go through it alone. Cephas said that he won’t get captured tomorrow … but I know that’s what’s going to happen. Please don’t let him walk into that house.”
“Okay. We’ll change the plan, and you’ll stick on him to make sure he stays away; but if things somehow go bad, are you absolutely sure Cephas doesn’t know what you told me earlier?” Cameron asks.
“I’m pretty sure. I was very careful,” Martha replies.
“Does Cindi know?” Cameron asks.
“Of course. So does Blake from Bethany - but only because I needed his help with the metalwork,” Martha says.
And now I know, too. My sweet, sweet Martha. God has always had a special place for you in this puzzle, too.
“So you’ll be with me, if the time comes?” Martha asks.
“You know I can’t say no to you, Martha.”
“I know. That’s why I asked you,” Martha replies.
“One more thing,” Cameron says. “Since we’re taking almost everyone we have tomorrow, Gethsemane House isn’t going to be defensible. Given the way the perimeter has been tested, if Cephas is off the raid, I think you two should clear out of here when everything is going down on Hickory Street.”
Thank you, Cameron. That’s perfect.
“Okay. We’ll do that,” Martha replies. “I need to get back. I need to be with him tonight.”
I hear them start to move; so I quickly retreat through the halls to our room. I make it into bed a minute before Martha returns, and realize that I’ll need to keep my feet away from her or she’ll feel that they’re cold.
A she slips into bed, I pretend to sleepily roll over and put my arm around her. She lets out a sigh and cuddles into me. A few minutes later, I feel the first telltale spasm that lets me know she wants to cry, but is holding it back. When I pull her tighter to me, and she begins to sob.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say.
“Earlier tonight, I had another dream where you’re tortured.”
She had the dream while I was praying?
“I was back at Golgotha, watching the crucifixion, but I couldn’t see because a Roman soldier was in the way. So I moved forward, and when the soldier moved out of the way, I could see that it was you on the ground, being nailed to the cross by Henry. I could hear laughter, and at first I thought it was Henry doing the laughing … but then I realized it was you - laughing at him. And the harder he pounded the nail, the louder you laughed at him, and then…”
She begins to sob again, so I let her cry for a while.
“What happened next?” I ask.
“They raised you up first; but when they raised up the thieves on either side of you, it wasn’t the thieves on those crosses. It was Aislin and Garai.”
This time she cries for a long while; so I hold her and stroke her hair. As she starts to cry herself out, I speak again.
“Martha. Who was on my left?”
“What? Why does it matter?”
“It matters to me. Who was on my left?”
She calms down, and focuses on the memory.
“Garai was on your left and Aislin was on your right, and they were both already dead. Garai had even started to rot - like he had been dead for a while.”
He’s been rotting on the inside since he decided to join Henry…
“In your dream, did I die too?” I ask.
“No. You were still alive and laughing at Henry when I woke up.”
We lie in silence again.
“Cephas. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. The puzzle is coming together, and you know what it means - and you don’t want to tell me. You think you can protect people by not telling them things; but you can’t. Even Christ warned His Apostles of what was coming.”
“You already know the answer, Martha. We ran here and there around the country, leading Henry on a chase; but you know I wasn’t running from Henry. I was running away from something I’ve been called upon to do. A cup has been set before me, and I have no choice but to drink from it,” I reply.
“Then save some for me, and we’ll go through it together,” she says.
“Whatever’s coming, watching it happen to you would be a greater torture than enduring it alone. You have a different place in His plan, Martha. Do you remember when you were kidnapped, how I said I wouldn’t stop looking for you; and when I prayed, clouds covered the moon so I could see the light in the house where you were being held?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Someday it will be your turn, Martha, and one of the things that helps me to face it is knowing that you won’t stop looking for me, and that you’ll continue to pray until the Lord shows you the light where I can be found,” I say.
“You said the one thing you know for sure is that you won’t be captured tomorrow. Does that mean you already know what’s going to happen?”
“All I know is that I won’t be captured,” I say.
“Then promise me you won’t go anywhere near Hickory Street.”
“I promise,” I say.
My fate doesn’t lie on Hickory Street…
*****
The next morning I slip out of bed, without waking Martha, and grab the backpack that contains all of my current possessions. This pack rode on my back from Egypt to Galilee, but it’s time for it to give up the last of its contents.
Cameron’s door is open and he’s on the floor doing push-ups, which I have no doubt is part of a longtime morning routine.
“Good morning. Where’s Martha?” he asks.
“Still asleep. Can we speak privately for a minute?”
“Sure, I wanted to talk to you anyway,” he says. “Martha requested - and I agreed - that you’re off the mission. The plan’s simpler now. We’re not even going to let your aunt enter the house. We’ll take the paper, if she has it … or her, if she doesn’t. Your wife will kill me where I stand, if I let you into that house.”
“Give Martha’s imagination some credit. She’d think of something worse than death,” I reply. “Don’t worry. I’ve already heard about the plan change and I know better than to ask. I’m here to give you something for safekeeping.”
I reach into my pack and bring out two leather bundles and set them on his desk; then unwrap them, revealing the two handguns we took from Francis and Michael in Galilee.
“Cool - but I’m not an antiques dealer,” he says. “Stunners will work just fine for today’s raid.”
“These aren’t for today … but they could come in handy in the future,” I say. “These are so old that they’re literally just hunks of metal. They don’t have a single chip in them.”
“So?” he asks.
“When these were built, the standard for finding a hidden weapon was a device called a metal detector. When things like target acquisition software and trigger fingerprint safeties were invented, chips were integrated into both the weapon and accessories, such as helmets and visors. Guns like this were all melted down over a hundred years ago, and the few that were kept by collectors had the firing pins removed under Federal law.”
“Keep talking,” he says.
“When that happened, the standard for weapon detection became detection of the chips, rather than the metal, because those sensors tell you exactly what sort of weapon it is, and the name of the person carrying it. Metal detectors became obsolete and were thrown away.”
“You’re saying these are operational guns which can’t be detected?” he asks.
“I’m saying you could take these into F.B.I. Headquarters, and they’d never know.”
I fix my eyes on his, as he contemplates the significance.
“Do I have a reason to go into F.B.I. Headquarters?” he asks.
“Maybe not today - but you never know.”
*****
My next stop is Cindi’s room. At Bethany House, I noticed that she likes to work late and sleep late, but today she’s up early.
“Ready for the big mission?” I ask.
“I’m the backup lookout six blocks away from the action,” she says. “It isn’t exactly a high-pressure position.”
“Would you do me a favor?” I ask. “I have something that I’d like you to hang onto for me.”
“Sure - but why? Martha goes where you go and I go where Martha goes; so what difference does it make?”
“In a way, it’s a family keepsake and I don’t want to risk losing it.”
I take a small leather pouch out of my pocket. I dump the contents into my hand to reveal the various gems we pried out of Jocie’s cross before we traded the gold for coins.
“Are those man-made or natural?” she asks.
She takes a large red stone out of my hand.
“I have no clue. I figure I’ll give them to our Jocie, when she’s old enough to understand the story of how she was named and who she was named after.”
“What are these smoky-colored ones?” she asks.
“Those were a gift from Albert. They have an interesting story too.”
I pour everything back into the pouch and hand it to her.
“I was thinking that the next time we’re near Ogallala, you could give them to your mother for safekeeping. All she has to remind herself of me is an empty plate on holidays; so I thought she might like to have them for a while.”
“Mom would love that.”
Cindi packs the gems away; then heads out to join the team.
My pack is empty except for a few ancient gold coins that are worthless in this time and my Roman toga and tunic. Martha will want to have those. I wish I had my travelling staff, but it’s still sitting in a corner in Capon Springs. A traveler should always have a staff, though I suppose it isn’t going to do me any good on the journey still left in front of me.
I’ve given everything away. I’m ready for whatever today is going to bring.
*****
The team starts to move out in small groups to take up positions around the house where I grew up. Hickory Street is a quiet little lane in a small town, so I wonder where any of them can hide without being conspicuous … but I have confidence that they’ll pull it off.
As the last of the Gethsemane staff leaves, Martha and I prepare to make our way out an escape tunnel and down to the river. Martha turns back, as we pass our room.
“I should take a com - just in case,” she says.
“They can handle this without you,” I reply. “Besides, we may be safer if we don’t carry anything traceable.”
She mulls it over for a moment.
“You may be right,” she says, and we continue on our way.
It’s a beautiful late summer day; so we watch the river roll by for a while. The bugs are having their last hurrah before the cold of fall and winter drive them into hiding, and the fish in the river are enjoying the buffet, as they try to stock up for the cold months ahead.
“It’s only eleven o’clock. What shall we do for the next hour or so?” Martha asks.
“How close am I allowed to go to Hickory Street?” I ask.
“Not very.”
“Can we visit the Sheridan Museum and Historical Society? That’s seven or eight blocks away from my parents’ house on Hickory Street. Since my parents things were still in the basement when the Feds raided it, Mrs. Pierce must still be alive and running it. I’m sure she’d love a surprise visit, and I’d love to see her.”
“Okay, but let’s go right now. I want you completely off the street at noon,” Martha says.
Me too…
Martha takes no chances. She insists that we walk well south of town along the river, and then move east through the newer section of town, rather than walking straight down Church Street itself, which would take us within a few blocks of the raid. When we’ve cut back to the north, we find Old Robinson Street, which will take us to within a block of the museum.
It comes into sight at ten minutes before noon. I stop Martha under some tall trees that provide deep shade.
“Do you mind if I go in alone? If Mrs. Pierce is still running the place, I’m sure it will be a huge surprise for her.”
Martha frowns disapprovingly at the idea of me going anywhere alone; then begins to stare over my shoulder at the little white building with the steeple. Her mouth opens slightly and she starts shaking her head.
She got it.
“My Father’s House,” she whispers, and starts to pull me away.
I grab her by the shoulders.
“Martha, it’s going to be okay.”
She shakes off my hands.
“You told your aunt to meet you at your Father’s house. You didn’t mean your parents’ house. You meant the old church.”
She reaches up to her ear where her com would be, if I hadn’t convinced her to leave it behind.
“It was the only way I could keep the Gethsemane people safe,” I say. “She’ll keep her word. Nobody will touch them on Hickory Street.”
“No.”
Her voice is a whisper and her bottom lip begins to quiver, followed by tears running down her cheeks.
“Please, Cephas. You can’t.”
“It’s the cup that’s always been set before me. It’s time for me to drink from it.”
“No. We can still run. We’ll get the team over here. We’ll get the paper from your Aunt. We’ll keep the chase going. You don’t have to walk into this trap.”
“I’m not going in for the notebook paper, Martha. Jennifer never had the paper. All she has is a fake that I left for her.”
“Then why? Why are you sacrificing yourself? You said you wouldn’t be captured today.”
“And I meant it. I’m not going to be captured. You were there with Jesus at Gethsemane. He wasn’t captured. He gave Himself over willingly, and that’s what I have to do, too. It’s the only way left to distract Henry and keep him from releasing the toxin. Every day that I can delay him is a chance to save more souls.”
“There’s more to it,” she says. “There are ways to distract Henry without handing yourself over to him. Explain it to me.”
“It’s the moment of darkness,” I reply. “I’ve been running from it, denying it, trying to find my own solution to the puzzle that doesn’t include it; and that solution doesn’t exist. Do you remember how I asked you how I’m supposed be the rock in a world where hearts are closed off? I don’t know why, but somehow the moment of darkness that’s coming is the only way to open hearts up again. Somehow -when things look darkest - Jesus will shine through me.”
“You can’t ask me to do this, Cephas. I’m not strong enough to go through it again - especially not by myself. I stood by and did nothing while Jesus was tortured, and I can’t watch you being tortured the same way.”
I lift her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“I’m not Jesus. I’m not taking the punishment for the sins of the world, and - unlike Jesus - I’m not going to be separated from God. He’ll be with me the whole time.”
“Cephas, tell me ‘not today’ like you did in Dallas,” Martha says.
I stand silently, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Say it! Say ‘not today’,” she begs, softly pounding my chest. “Say it!”
“I’m sorry, Martha. Only He knows the day.”
Martha sees my lips are now quivering too, and loses what little control she had left.
“Please God! Make him say ‘not today’ for me.”
She sinks to her knees.
“Martha, listen to me. You’re a piece in His puzzle too, and He has a plan for you … and maybe in His plan you don’t have to stand by and do nothing, like we did at Golgotha. Remember your promise. Keep looking for me - no matter what. Jesus will help you. He’ll help you find me.”
She stops sobbing and stands. I can see the new strength and resolve surging through her, as she accepts what I’m about to do, and embraces that it’s now her turn to save me.
“That’s the fire in your eyes I wanted to see, my bride,” I say, though my lip is still quivering.
“Get used to seeing this fire. You’re going to see it again. Remember your promise too: Nobody takes your ring off your finger except for me.”
“Nobody,” I say.
I can hear drones high overhead, starting to descend.
“It’s time for you to keep your promise, Martha. It’s time to turn your back on me and run. You have to get the Gethsemane teams to safety and abandon Gethsemane House. It isn’t safe there anymore.”
She doesn’t move.
“You can do this, Martha. You have three things that will get you through: faith, hope, and love.”
“But the greatest of these is love,” she whispers into my ear, then sprints away.