Colorado Springs, 2208 A.D.
“Why can’t I just let the day pass quietly again, like last year?” I ask Martha.
I’m sitting in a comfortable chair, enjoying a sunbeam and watching Jocie put together a three-dimensional puzzle on the floor. She’s watching me - while pretending she’s not - so I keep getting flashes of the wonderful blue eyes shared by all the women in my family. Her brother, Austin, is toddling around the room
“It’s a national holiday, and it’s the five-year anniversary. It’s important to help people remember,” Martha says.
I remember daily - whether I want to or not.
“They’re hoping you’ll say an opening prayer this year.”
“It would be a lot of walking, and we’ll be carrying Austin. What if he gets tired and cranky?” I ask.
“I’m sure either my mom or yours would be happy to help out. Cameron and Cindi are coming with a two-year-old and she’s seven months pregnant; but I don’t hear her complaining.”
“They won’t ask me to stand between the posts and re-enact it, will they?”
“I’m sure you can set the agenda. You can say the prayer outside if you don’t want to go inside.”
“Look, Daddy! I solved the puzzle,” Jocie says. “The puzzle was you.”
It’s a puzzle of me chained between two posts, with a lit up map of the world behind me.
“I was only one piece, sweetie.”
I look up to Martha.
“If I’m doing this, I’m calling the shots.”
*****
When Martha, Jocie and I arrive in a private car, I see that hand-picked friends and family are standing in lines on either side of the giant tunnel entrance. It’s a warm day for this time of year and the women are mostly wearing sun dresses and the men short-sleeves.
The press is stopped at the lower gate, except for one official camera crew. I wanted to have just family attend my first trip back to the mountain, but one crew broadcasting live was the compromise we settled on. Despite the heat, one of the camera men is wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a hat that is pulled down to cover his entire forehead. Martha has learned to follow my gaze when something strikes me as out of place.
“The crew was background checked and searched for weapons,” she says. “You’re safe.”
Jocie yells “Aunt Cindi” and runs for my cousin; but I remain where I am, looking at everyone who has assembled here to support me today. For ten years, I didn’t think I had a family. Now I’m so overwhelmed by how deeply I love them all that tears begin to run down my face.
Just keep telling yourself that you’re walking towards them - not towards the entrance to that place.
Martha takes my hand, encouraging me to keep walking.
“I don’t envy you your memory today,” she says.
I look down at my wrists. The scars from where the cuffs cut into me are visible.
“Why are we doing this?” I ask.
“Because you still haven’t put it behind you,” Martha says. “Let me tell you what I remember about that day. We had tracked you to Colorado Springs, using the transmitter in your ring; but we lost the signal before we knew exactly where they’d taken you. I was in Nebraska when you gave the hint about your location using the books of the Bible. Unfortunately, nobody knew what the initials ‘NORAD’ stood for, and it took us a day to find the historical reference.”
A small gust of wind halts my progress, and my heart starts to pound.
“What is it?” Martha asks.
“Do you smell ponderosa pines on the breeze?” I ask. “Do you hear the rattling of the aspen leaves? That’s how I knew I was back in Colorado. God sent something as simple as a gentle breeze. I thought it would be the last time I’d ever smell or hear the wind.”
My loved ones start to look concerned.
“Keep talking, Martha. Tell me what else you remember,” I say.
Maybe hearing her memories can keep mine at bay for a few more minutes.
“We set up a camp in an abandoned house down the road. We figured that the old blast doors into N.O.R.A.D. were closed and didn’t know how to get through them. So, like the rest of the world, we watched you being tortured, and waited for some kind of sign. When not a single light was lit on the world map behind you, it felt like the darkest moment of my life; so I ordered an assault.”
“There were five guards at the entrance when we came for you,” Martha says. “We didn’t know if firing our stunners would be detected inside and were afraid that if we tipped Henry off, he’d shoot you. So we just rushed straight into their fire and took them down, hand-to-hand. Geoff took a hit to his right arm and James took one to his left. They linked their stunned arms together and fought side-by-side, just like they always said they would.”
As we pass through the lines, I look at Geoff and James. They’ve linked arms standing in line.
“Cindi had to roll to avoid a shot, and when she came up, the last guard had her dead to rights,” Martha continues. “It was one of those heavy stun cannons. It probably would have killed her at that range; but before he could fire, he was stunned from behind by a guard who hadn’t fired a shot at us.”
“Daniel,” I say. “He writes to me from prison, where he leads a big prayer group. He’s getting out soon and says he’s looking forward to having children.”
“He opened the blast doors and showed us the fastest way to you. The rest you know.”
My knees go wobbly, as I pass the threshold and smell the musty air. Martha holds my hand tighter.
We walk to the room where I was held. The screen and clock are still on the wall. I watch and listen as the second hand ticks its way around the face. As luck would have it, the time on the clock is approaching nine AM, so I almost expect the screen to come on, showing a scene designed to torture me.
Only Martha and the camera crew have come into the room with me, but Geoff is standing in the doorway.
“Henry taped you around the clock,” Geoff says. “Did you know you talked in your sleep? You even stood up once; then knelt down and acted like you were hitting something with a hammer. Do you know who you were talking to?”
“Old friends, mostly,” I say.
And One who’ll never leave my side because of how I knelt down with a hammer that day.
We begin my daily route from my room to the studio. Part of me wishes there was a guard to prod me along, rather than having to do it of my own accord. Everyone is heading for the main entrance; but I stop when we reach the backstage door they used for me each day. My hand is shaking as I reach for the knob.
“I think we’d better go the other way,” Martha says.
The camera crew is capturing every moment, and sending it to the world.
“No, I can do this, but I’d like to do it alone,” I say.
When I reach the stage, a spotlight is lighting the two posts, which still have their chains and cuffs. There are dark blood stains on the floor. I run my hand along the rough wood, and feel twinges of pain in the skin of my back where the whip cut the deepest.
Everyone else has filtered in through the main entrance and are watching me in silence.
“What are you remembering, Cephas?” Martha asks. “Pain? Fear?”
“Yes; but they’re not the strongest memories. The strongest memory is still love. Jesus did what He did out of His endless love. He loaned some to me, to help me through.”
Jocie runs to the front of the stage.
“Daddy? Is this where you solved the big puzzle?”
I look at her for a long time and marvel at the wonder I see in her eyes. For a moment, I feel the childlike wonder of solving a puzzle along with her.
“I didn’t solve the puzzle, sweetheart. It’s a secret only the puzzle maker knows.”