The Didymus Contingency (13 page)

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After the excitement on the beach, the quiet of the sea was a welcome experience to all on the boat. Many were sleeping. Matthew was rowing, putting his large muscles to good use, while David and Tom enjoyed the view from the bow of the boat. For the first time since their trip through time began, Tom was in Heaven. He had spent summers as a child on his uncle’s boat. The sweet air filled his lungs and brought back memories that wouldn’t happen for two thousand years. A light breeze caressed his growing, black hair while his thoughts drifted.

Tom had seen what Jesus could do—he didn’t buy it, but had to admit Jesus was impressive. Jesus was the ultimate motivational speaker and could sway crowds with just a few words. Even Tom felt a tug at his heart now and then. The passion of the man was undeniable, and had Tom been a less educated man, without knowledge of the future, being swept into the teachings of Jesus would have been easy.

Tom searched the clouds overhead, white wisps of water vapor, like hair...like Megan’s hair. Soft and lovely. He closed his eyes and could see her making breakfast. Cream of Wheat, of all things, was her favorite. She always cooked it too long so it clumped into balls, which she would douse with brown sugar and coat with two-percent milk. Tom couldn’t stand Cream of Wheat but would sell his soul for a bowl of Megan’s right now.

“What are you thinking about?” David asked.

“Nothing,” Tom replied.

“Nothing nothing, or nothing you want to talk about?”

“Just looking at the clouds.”

David had been watching Tom for a few minutes and saw his eyebrows lower and his forehead wrinkle. He knew Tom was thinking about Megan. It was the inescapable force that drove him forward.

“They look like they’re getting darker. Might have a storm soon,” David said, as he gazed out over the sea.

Tom took a breath and let it out slowly. This trip had put David and him at odds over so many issues, but David had always been there for him and always would be. Tom didn’t see the use in keeping David in the dark. “I miss her,” he said.

“You know...” started David, “And let me finish before you tell me I’m a fool...”

Tom crossed his arms, leaned back and raised his eyebrows as if to say, “I’ll try, but don’t push it.”

“Megan was a Christian... She believed in eternal life after death. She believed in that man,” David said as he motioned to Jesus, sleeping on the other end of the boat.

“She believed he was God and that he died for the sins of humanity. Imagine, just for a moment, if she was right and you were wrong. It would be a shame if I saw her again...and you didn’t. The risk of believing all this Jesus nonsense might be worth taking. We might not be able to change the past, but the future is still ours to create.”

Tom sat staring at the sky and appeared to be thinking hard on David’s comments. Then he said, “I think you’re right...there is a storm coming.”

David looked up at the sky and saw dark, heavy clouds moving toward them, smudging out the bright sun. His thoughts raced through what he knew of the Bible. He tightly clutched the side of the boat and said, “This is going to be interesting.”

“What? What’s going to happen? You know, don’t you?” asked Tom.

“Don’t worry, we’ll live.”

“Easy for you to say.”

The clouds began to swirl and churn with energy, ready to burst. A drop of rain slapped David’s cheek and he smiled.

“Why are you smiling?” asked Tom.

Whack!
A sizable drop landed on Tom’s forehead and he wiped it off. David slunk down and wedged himself into the boat floor. He looked up at Tom and smiled. “You might want to hold on to something. Things are going to get bumpy.”

“David, what—”

Krakoom!
A blue streak of lightning ripped across the sky and exploded with fire as it pierced a tree on the distant shore. The thunderclap triggered a deluge of rain from the dark sky. The waves, revealed by bright flashes of lightning, rose and fell ever higher, ever wider, threatening to capsize the lot of them into the undulating sea.

Panic quickly took hold of the group. Judas dove to the floor of the boat and clung to the wooden bench. Chaos gripped the minds of those attempting to control the situation.

“We’re all going to drown!” someone yelled.

A wave crashed over the boat and knocked most to their knees. What followed was a mass of yelling, screaming and questioning obscured by the rain and thunder. Tom and David couldn’t make out what was being said, but their thoughts were clear: They were all going to die! They’d be capsized and the waves would take their strength and water would fill their lungs and they would sink into the cold abyss never to be seen or heard from again!

Tom couldn’t stand it any longer. It seemed he would have to take action to save their lives again. He hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. He climbed to his feet and headed toward the center of the boat. Just then, a second wave careened into the boat. Tom was flung from his feet and his head collided solidly with the side of the vessel.

In the confusion, only David saw Tom fall. “Tom!” David frantically crawled to Tom’s side.

David inspected Tom’s head, which was doused with seawater and already covered with blood, pouring from a gash. Tom was unconscious and probably better for it. This would hurt with a passion when he woke up.

Peter kneeled down next to David and yelled, “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” David shouted back.

“David, it is well known that you are wise in the ways of the world. Tell us, what should we do?” Peter asked David, trying to squelch the terrified look on his face.

“Where’s Jesus?” David asked, knowing where his line of questioning would lead.

Peter looked to the back of the boat where Jesus was laying. “He still sleeps!”

“Well,” David said, “Wake him up!”

Peter hurried across the boat, doing his best not to be knocked overboard by the tossing sea. He fell to his knees next to Jesus. Peter took hold of Jesus’s arm and shook. “Master! Master! We’re all going to drown!” Peter shouted.

Jesus blinked as he woke from his slumber. He calmly took in the storm, rain and lightning. He briefly glanced at the distraught men, all looking to him for salvation. “Help me up,” Jesus said to Peter.

Peter pulled Jesus to his feet and then quickly clung to the floor of the boat. Jesus stood alone at the center of the boat. The wind and rain whipped through his hair. David noticed that the power of the storm seemed to invigorate him. Jesus stretched out his hands into the rain and smiled.

David knew what was about to happen and cursed Tom for being unconscious. If he saw this, there would be no more excuses.

Jesus closed his eyes and spoke kindly, as if to a friend, and said, “Stop.”

Calm. The clouds pulled back and disappeared like they had been rewound. The wind extinguished to a gentle breeze. The waves were ironed flat. All in an instant. It was as though someone switched on the lights and let the sun come out. No one made a sound as the boat rocked in the placid water.

Tom came to with a jolt, “Wha—what happened?” Tom asked and he held his head in pain.

“Jesus calmed the storm,” David explained.

Tom looked up at Jesus, still standing alone in the middle of the boat. “What? C’mon David.”

Jesus turned his head toward Tom, clearly disappointed.

Tom started, “He can’t—”

“Where is your faith?” Jesus asked Tom, and then he spoke to the rest of the group, “All of you...”

Jesus stepped over the fearful men and resumed his spot at the back of the boat. He stood, facing the shoreline, silent.

The disciples, minus Tom, had all seen what Jesus did. They began speaking to each other with excited whispers, “Who is he?” someone asked.

“I don’t know!” another replied.

“He calmed the storm! How did he do that?”

“Unbelievable.”

“He commands the wind and water, and they obey him!”

Tom’s brow furrowed and he looked at David. “Are they serious?” he asked, as he winced with pain.

David nodded and said, “Lets take care of that wound. And no whining; this might hurt.”

As David began to clean Tom’s wound with seawater, Tom stared across the boat at Judas, who had not moved from his spot, clutching the bench, hands shaking and jaw trembling. Tom had recognized the name of Judas when they were first introduced so many months ago, but couldn’t remember who he was. He would have to remember to ask David. Tom feared for Judas on several occasions, as the man seemed to wilt at the slightest hint of danger. Maybe Judas just needed a friend? Someone to look out for him? To inspire him? Tom decided he’d get to know Judas better; maybe they could help each other.

—TEN—

Pitfall

29 A.D.

5:32 P.M.

Gergesa, on the Sea of Galilee, Israel

A mile from the extravagant city of Gergesa was a dark valley, hewn into the Earth by years of wind and water. The walls of the two hundred foot chasm were lined with tombs dug into the cliff faces. The air was cool, wet and reeked of stale decay. Some called it The Valley of the Dead, some simply called it The Valley, but for the past week, no one called it anything at all. No one dared to even think about the valley, as though Samuel, the man now shackled to a cliff face, might hunt them down and devour their children.

Samuel, once a fisherman and friend to many, had been overtaken by an evil force. Some speculated that the tempter himself possessed Samuel. Those who knew the man tried to give him time. Perhaps the evil would pass? But after a month, the evil had not passed; in fact, it had grown stronger, deepening its hold on Samuel’s body. He was found sleeping in the entrails of ten sheep he had slaughtered, apparently with his bare hands. The Roman Guard was called to action. It took ten heavily armed and expertly trained guards to subdue the man, and two almost lost their lives.

Samuel had been chained to the cliff face in the Valley of the Dead for five days, awaiting his sentence, which all knew would be death. Clothed only in dirty rags, Samuel spoke in strange languages, frothed at the mouth and at times mimicked the beasts of the forest. He was truly mad. But for the past five hours, he just sat there, cross-legged with his back to the four Roman soldiers standing guard. The soldiers, fully armored with iron helmets, hard leather chest plates, shoulder pads and boots, all wielded shields, swords and spears. They maintained a healthy distance and a watchful eye at all times.

Greagor, the captain of the group, stroked his favorite sword against a whetstone, sharpening its blade to a razor’s edge. With its double-edged iron blade, its U-shaped, brass hilt and ornate sheath, it was a spectacular weapon—one that Greagor had used to kill several enemies of Rome. With every swipe of the blade, Greagor kept his eyes glued on Samuel. His lip raised in a sneer, revealing clenched teeth. Not only was this man a Jew, a conquered people with phony freedoms, but he was evil, and Greagor wanted him dead. “We ought to slit his throat now and be done with it,” Greagor said.

The other men laughed and agreed, but none took action. They were all too terrified to personally carry out a death sentence. Greagor, pleased that he had made the men laugh, thought it appropriate to further taunt the chained beast. He picked up a sharp stone the size of a fist, and heaved it at Samuel. The rock sailed through the air, sure to strike a painful blow. The soldiers’ eyes grew broad with anticipation.
Whack!
Stone slapped against flesh.

Greagor stood up. He thought his vision must be playing tricks. But the other men, with petrified visages, saw it too. Samuel’s hand had a firm grip on the stone, inches from his head. He caught the stone...with his back turned! Greagor sat down and looked at his comrades. All were too timorous to say a word, lest they entice the beast to retaliate.

Samuel looked at the stone through glazed eyes. He smiled and began to rock back and forth, muttering to himself, “Dimito desrafat fier tarsadun,” over and over again. Each time he finished the words, he cut a bloody gouge into his arm using the stone. Froth dripped from his mouth and mixed with the blood oozing from his arm. The sight only enticed him further and his rocking grew more fervent. His legs bounced at the kneecaps and his eyelids twitched as though in violent REM sleep.

As Greagor watched with a new respect, he thought he saw something different about Samuel. He was growing more excited...or was it nervous?

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The sea had been calm since the storm magically dissipated and no one had said much of anything. David had bound Tom’s wound as best he could, but it didn’t stop Tom’s head from swelling. The pain was intense at first, but had dulled slightly when Tom sat still, which wasn’t easy to do in a rocking boat.

If only he were alone, Tom thought. He could make a quick jaunt to the future for some Ibuprofen and ice, but it was impossible here in the boat and would be even more unlikely as soon as they landed in Gergesa, which was now only one hundred yards away.

From this distance, the city could be seen in its entire luster. Tall, white arches attached several columned buildings to one another. A grand theater bustled with activity to the south and a temple of Zeus stood tall and proud atop a hill to the north. This was the pinnacle of how Tom had envisioned the Roman Empire, its influence smearing even into the most distant territories. He enjoyed the view despite the drumbeat of pain pounding within his skull.

Matthew, who had been resting on the side of the boat, craned his head up as though he’d been rudely awakened. “Disgusting. Look at all those pigs. Who would tend such beasts so close to the city?” he said to Tom.

Previously, Tom would have thought such a comment to be peculiar, but having learned Jewish culture, Tom knew that pigs were unfit to eat and were looked down upon severely. The fact that such a large herd was roaming on the hill just outside the city must have enraged every good Jew for miles. But Tom wasn’t inclined to have yet another conversation about the foulness of pigs. He responded with a simple smile and the subject died out.