Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy Page 4

  I noticed an opening underneath the table. I checked inside the hole and saw a scroll. I pulled it out and unrolled it. The document was a map of Israel, though many names were different. I recognized some of the towns, like Jerusalem. I sat on the floor and studied it. The date on the map was 3790. I assumed this was using the Hebrew calendar.

  If it was the year 5775 using the Hebrew calendar, that meant I was back in time two thousand years. That couldn’t be—or could it? I did a quick math computation. Converted into the Gregorian calendar from the Hebrew calendar, that meant it was about 30 C.E.

  I threw the map on the floor disgusted—or perhaps more petrified than disgusted. How did I get here? No! This was insane. Besides, I’d rather be a prisoner of war than be here. Then the military would search for me. I knew what happened in Israel at that time—with the Roman occupation and an itinerant rabbi who claimed to be the Messiah. I didn’t want to be here.

  I sat on the floor, shaking. “Why God, why here, why now? What happened to me that I can’t remember?” The walls did not answer me.

  A moment of revelation—I wouldn’t find any hidden cameras or microphones. Even if I went back to Jerusalem, my family wasn’t there and wouldn’t be for two thousand years. How could I figure out how to get back to 2015 when I didn’t know how I got here?

  I picked up the map and stuffed it back in the cubbyhole. What was I to do? I could sit around and mope—no, I was too frustrated to do that. I sighed. Perhaps there were clues. Maybe someone could help me. I’d go back out to the lobby and listen, eavesdrop on conversations. Until I could figure out how to return to my world, I would have to learn how to live in this one.

  Reluctantly, I joined the others out in the lobby where most of the inn’s guests seemed to congregate. Dr. Luke sat at a table by the window with another man. I walked over hoping not to appear intrusive. When I sat nearby, the two stood. The other man shook Dr. Luke’s hand. When he left, Dr. Luke turned to me and joined me at my table.

  “How long are you going to be here, Daniel?”

  I scratched my ear. “I don’t know.” I picked at the food crumbs on the dirty table. Hunger pangs filled my stomach.

  Dr. Luke studied my face. “How is your forehead?”

  I reached up and touched it. “It’s much better. Thank you for bandaging it.”

  “Make sure you keep it clean until it heals.”

  “Yes, sir. I will.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “Doctor Luke, you seem to be a very busy doctor. I am hoping someday to become a doctor.”

  “It’s a fine profession for a young Jewish boy. Make sure you study hard in school.”

  I searched for the right words. “If you need help, Doctor, I could use a place to stay for a few days, until I head back to Jerusalem.”

  Dr. Luke’s face brightened at my suggestion. “In fact, I do need help with one small task that no one wants to do, and it’s difficult for me to find the time.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s sorely needed.”

  “Tell me what you need done.”

  Dr. Luke studied the tabletop and looked sad. “They appreciate anything anyone does for them. Their life is very difficult.”

  “Whose life is very difficult?”

  “The leper colony outside the city gates. If someone doesn’t bring them food, they die.”

  “Oh, the lepers.” What could be so terrible about visiting them? Unless I caught the disease, but couldn’t it be cured?

  “I would be happy to help you with the lepers,” I found myself saying a little too eagerly.

  “Are you sure?” Dr. Luke bit his lip. “I mean, you don’t go inside the colony. You leave the food outside the gate.”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Great. I’ll let the inn know to bill me for your room and board.” Dr. Luke seemed delighted that this burdensome task was taken care of.

  I nodded and smiled, grateful that I wouldn’t starve.

  CHAPTER 7 WHIP OF ROME

  Approaching hoof beats interrupted our conversation. Alarm appeared on the faces of the inn’s guests. The clerk cleared his reservation desk and locked up the hotel documents in the cabinet. I glanced at Dr. Luke. He was peering out the window.

  “The Romans,” Dr. Luke said. “What do they want here?”

  I knew the Romans and the Jews did not like each other.

  A flock of birds dispersed outside the inn, leaving an ominous foreboding in the air. Soon horses filled the street and five Roman soldiers dismounted, tied up their animals, and hastily scattered in different directions.

  The street was empty. The locals had sought shelter when they heard them coming. The soldiers entered the store across the street and exited when they didn’t find what they wanted. One recklessly overturned a fruit stand. The fruit scattered in the street, a week’s worth of wages for one farmer.

  Two stampeded into Jacob’s Inn. Though all the other patrons had fled the porch, the crippled man sat on his mat, unable to escape. No one thought to help him.

  One of the guards approached the paraplegic and kicked him. The man fell over, moaning in breathless gasps. Suddenly the cat I had seen before vaulted through the air and landed on the soldier’s back. The surprised guard’s attention turned from the paraplegic as he reached up to seize the maniacal creature off his shoulder. Then the cat leaped through the air and disappeared. I winced. Dr. Luke closed his eyes, as if he were praying. No one in the lobby moved, hoping the men would go away.

  What if the Roman soldiers entered the inn?

  Soon the guards swaggered inside, their armor clanging. The Centurion glared around the room. When he saw me, he pointed, “Grab him.”

  The other guard stormed towards me. I swallowed hard as my head swirled. Why was he coming after me? I started to throw up.

  Dr. Luke held up his hand. “Wait a minute. What’s the problem? Why do you want to seize this young boy?”

  The Centurion stated impatiently, “A young man fitting his description looted the treasury yesterday in Ramallah. He was observed heading towards Dothan—on foot.”

  “This young man works for me,” Dr. Luke said. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. He feeds the lepers.”

  When the guards heard the word “lepers,” they backed away, wanting nothing more to do with me. “Mistaken identity,” the Centurion said. He glanced around at the frightened guests. “Have a good day.” The two Romans left as quickly as they came, issuing no apologies for their actions.

  When the intruders were gone, Dr. Luke ran outside to check on the crippled man. I noticed the others in the room edged away from our table. They wanted nothing to do with me either.

  The life of the lepers before antibiotics—the living dead, the abandoned, victimless faces of souls who died a little each day as limbs withered and deformity took over.

  I stood and followed Dr. Luke outside. He was hunched over the poor man. Tears filled the doctor’s eyes. The cripple lay motionless on the ground.

  “He’s dead,” said Dr. Luke.

  Now I hated the Romans as much as I hated the Arabs. Why had God abandoned us?

  “Does he have a family?” I asked.

  Dr. Luke shook his head.

  A few minutes later, the dead’s man body was carted off, though I didn’t know to where and I was afraid to ask. The portico seemed empty without the cripple’s presence. Burdened that I had made no effort to talk to him earlier, I vowed to be more caring.

  Once things returned to normal, I asked Dr. Luke, “Why did you do that?”

  We were sitting in the portico alone. Evening approached and the cooks were busy preparing the food.

  “Do what?” Dr. Luke asked.

  “Why did you speak up for me to the Roman soldiers? I mean, how did you know that I didn’t steal the money?”

  Dr. Luke looked away for a moment pondering my question. “Someone who is willing to feed the lepers wouldn’t steal money from the Romans.”

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sp; I nodded. “I understand now.”

  Dr. Luke reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  CHAPTER 8 THE LIVING DEAD

  The next morning I made my first trip to the leper colony. The outcasts lived in a cave beyond the city gates on the outskirts of civilization. I fed the donkey and suited him up with as much as he could carry. Dr. Luke warned me to look out for robbers. They were known to hang out near the entrance to the colony and raid what kindhearted folks left.

  The colony was at the mercy of others, hidden behind the walls of secrecy. Forbidden to be seen even by family members, they were worse off than zombies.

  I packed boiled fish, bread, honey, nuts, pomegranates, olives, grapes, and figs. No one knew how many lepers were in the colony, but Dr. Luke sent food every couple of days.

  I left at sun-up to avoid detection. The streets were empty and the air was cool. I had never been to Dothan because the town was a military zone and inaccessible. I never imagined I would see the small town in the first century.

  The place had a curious history. The Tanakh said the Armenians trapped Elisha in Dothan. As enemies of Israel, they tried to capture Elisha but the chariots of fire defeated them.

  The Merkabah, fables about the heavenly throne chariot, were forbidden to be read during regular synagogue services—not that we ever attended, but I was fascinated with the chariots and the mystical stories surrounding the village. I wished I could see one of the chariots of fire.

  I arrived at the outer gates within an hour. The cave was nearby and marked with the sign “leper colony, stay away.” A narrow trail hidden from the street led to the lepers. Overgrown vegetation and spindly vines wet with morning dew made travel difficult on the donkey. The trailed ended at a small natural clearing.

  After unpacking the supplies, I rang the bell on the donkey to alert the lepers. A small pair of eyes peered at me from behind some vines at the cave entrance. He moved out of view when he realized I saw him. I knew they wouldn’t approach as long as I was present, but I wanted to make sure the food wasn’t stolen.

  I reluctantly led the donkey back up the trail. I lingered at the top, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of them. I hadn’t seen any robbers, but I was ready to shoo them away if one appeared.

  A few minutes later, a young child came out of the cave. He grabbed some figs and ran back inside. I chuckled. He didn’t look sick, but Dr. Luke said healthy kids were expected to live with their leprous parents if they had no other family. A man appeared with a cloth draped over his head and face.

  What would happen if I came out of hiding? Would he run away? I’d have given away my favorite guitar to have five minutes on Google to look up leprosy. Soon a few more lepers appeared to carry the supplies into the cave.

  Without warning, robbers appeared. The lepers fled. They had no standing in the community to defend themselves. Filled with anger, I came out of hiding.

  “Get out of here,” I yelled at the villains.

  One of the thieves absconded with the pomegranates. He was too far away to catch and tackle.

  I got in the second bandit’s face. “Go away, you thief.”

  He didn’t move.

  I yelled again, “I’m a leper,” and I shoved him backwards.

  When he heard my words, he took off.

  Out of breath and gulping in air, I calmed myself. I heard movement in some nearby branches. Two eyes were peering at me.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I said.

  The person came out into the opening and removed his head scarf. Lesions covered his deformed face. His nose and lips curled up to the left, now permanently displaced with scarring. The man’s heart-wrenching plight touched my soul.

  “I don’t see any leprosy on you,” the man said.

  I tried to make eye contact again, but the man refused to look at me.

  “I don’t have leprosy,” I confessed. “I didn’t want those marauders to steal the food I brought.”

  “Go away,” the leper said, “before this death comes to you and I am burdened with making you sick.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  The gulf between us grew.

  I asked again. “What is your name?”

  “Simon. Now go away.”

  “My name is Daniel.”

  A silence followed.

  A few minutes later, another man walked out holding the hand of a young boy. I recognized the lad as the one who took the figs. His eyes were bright.

  Leprosy covered the cheeks and forehead of his apparent father, though not as seriously as in Simon. My eyes returned to the disfigured man. I studied him, aware I was probably the only non-leprous person who had seen him in years. Would I shame him, run away in disgust, or fear?

  Suddenly something hit Simon in the head and knocked him over. He grasped the side of his face and moaned. The red object fell on the ground and rolled away—I glanced through the dense underbrush to see the bandit who threw the pomegranate. I heard someone scampering through the scrub but gave up on the idea of chasing him—I’d never catch him.

  Simon had knelt down with his nubby fingers covering the wound, fingers worn away from the living death that would eventually kill him. I rushed over and crouched beside him. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded but refused to look at me—horrified that I was so close to him.

  I glanced at the father and son who stood a few feet away. The father approached, but I could tell he was hesitant.

  The young boy looked up at his father. “I tell Mommy Daniel brought us food.” He ran back inside the cave.

  I stepped back from Simon, wishing I could do more, but my presence was painfully a hindrance. I watched as the boy’s father tended to the injured man. Simon stood after a minute and seemed to be okay, though rather shaken.

  “Thank you,” he said to me.

  I nodded.

  The two of them picked up the supplies and hauled them inside the cave.

  I’d promised I would be more caring. I didn’t know the cost—until now.

  CHAPTER 9 UNSPOKEN GIFTS

  I sat in the lobby with Dr. Luke and Ami. Ami’s brother, Levi, joined us later. Most of the patrons had finished eating. Levi set his walking stick underneath the table and stretched out in the chair beside us.

  The women had cleared the tables and the rattling of dishes filtered in from the back room. The men lingered after the meal, catching up on the news from Rome and Jerusalem. Conversation the night before had centered on the Roman soldier who had tried to seize me. My story and the death of the disabled man had made the rounds. I would have preferred anonymity.

  Ami was one of Dr. Luke’s patients even though he had no obvious physical ailments, but he had epilepsy. Dr. Luke and others had tried for years to heal him. He’d have made a good lawyer but his illness prevented that.

  Ami was animated tonight, more than I had seen him before. He stood and walked around the room, tapping each table to get people’s attention. “Wake up, now is not the time to sleep.” Most of the men appeared bored, but not ready to retire for the evening.

  I took my cue from Dr. Luke who listened attentively.

  Ami began his comments, “I had heard so much about Yochanan the Immerser that I had to see for myself. I went down to the Jordan River today.”

  Dr. Luke raised his eyebrow.

  Ami continued, “A large crowd came to hear Yochanan and many asked to be cleansed from their sins. He dunked several in the river.”

  Ami paced back and forth, as he spoke. “The man was dressed in camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist. ‘Turn from your sins, return to God,’ he said. Ami raised his hand as if in imitation. ‘The Kingdom of Heaven is near.’ The common folk were drawn to him. Some are even calling him a prophet.”

  Several men shifted in their seat. I couldn’t tell if they were interested or bored.

  Ami asked the question many were already asking. “Who do you say Yochanan the Imme
rser is?”

  No one dared to speak.

  Ami continued. “Some temple leaders showed up, priests and Levites.”

  When he said this, the tension in the room increased a few decibels. Historically, I knew Yochanan to be nothing more than an oddity who lived in the wilderness, though Christians considered him a great man. I was more interested in the temple, the center of worship before its destruction in 70 A.D. The Muslims built the Dome of the Rock many years later over the temple base. I tried to imagine what the temple looked like.

  Levi, Ami’s brother, whispered, bringing me back to reality. “If he keeps going with this, we’re going to have a firestorm.”

  Ami continued. “The priests wanted to ask Yochanan some questions. I didn’t know the men, but they were sent by the Levites. Yochanan treated them very disrespectfully.”

  “Such as?” one man asked.

  “He called the Pharisees and the Sadducees a brood of vipers.”

  A murmur stirred in the room.

  “That probably went over well,” one man scoffed.

  “He told the religious leaders to return to God,” Ami said. “If that isn’t an insult, I don’t know what is. That’s like telling a doctor he needs to go back to medical school.”

  A man behind me spoke up. “We haven’t had a prophet in 450 years, since Malachi. Maybe he is the next great one.”

  Ami pointed to him. “But if he were a prophet, why would he tell them to repent and turn to God? These are very learned, religious men.”

  Dr. Luke said, “The prophets were always critical of the rulers and the priests, and most were martyred because of it.”

  Ami turned to the doctor. “So you say he is a prophet?”

  Dr. Luke shrugged. “Time will reveal if he is a true prophet.”

  Ami focused on me. “Daniel, you’re from Jerusalem. What have you heard about this supposed prophet? Who do you say he is?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” repeated Ami. “Daniel, everyone in Jerusalem is aware of Yochanan the Immerser.”

  The tension rose in the room. I needed to come up with something to say that would be neutral.