Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy Page 5

  Ami pointed his finger at me. “What are you hiding, Daniel, son of Aviv? You show up here from Jerusalem and seem ignorant, yet I know you are a smart lad. Surely you must know about Yochanan the Immerser.”

  “Maybe he is one of their followers,” someone said.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not one of his followers. He’ll be beheaded because of his impertinence.”

  “Beheaded?” Ami repeated. He seemed surprised by my prediction.

  I had said too much. For good or worse, that was all I remembered about John the Baptist, as he was commonly known in Christian circles. Jews who did consider him a historical person called him a false prophet. I didn’t want to say that for fear someone in the room might be a secret follower.

  Another man commented, “He attacks everyone, including King Herod Antipas.”

  “King Herod is a wicked king,” Levi said.

  The conversation turned away from me and the discussion went elsewhere. As I sat listening, I became aware of a stranger outside. I reached over and tapped Dr. Luke on the shoulder. “A man needs your help outside.”

  “What did you say, Daniel?”

  I repeated myself, this time drawing too much attention.

  “A person is at the door,” Levi said. “Check outside. Daniel says he heard someone.”

  Ami paused as a hotel guest went to the front door.

  Shuffling noises emanated from the entrance. “Tell Doctor Luke to come. A man has been beaten and is bleeding.”

  Dr. Luke stared at me. I didn’t know what to say. How did I know?

  CHAPTER 10 DISCOVERY

  Two Weeks Later

  I no longer feared for my life, but I did fear never finding my way home. After all, I had no idea how I had arrived in first century Israel—which seemed barbaric. What would it be like to live here for the rest of my life? I would never see my sister again, or my brother. He couldn’t reveal his whereabouts except to one family member—or my mother. I chuckled. I would probably miss my mother the least. Then there were my friends. I sighed. No more computers, Internet, movies or cars—how would I survive?

  I touched the ridge on my forehead—the only visible link to my past besides my contacts. The healed mark reminded me that something had cut me. Reflections from fine glass showed a jagged mark that would probably never go away.

  Without readily available pen and paper as in modern times, I was forced to make a mental checklist of what we needed. Dr. Luke would tell me what to get, and I’d learned to match those things with associations that I wouldn’t forget. I found this a little challenging at first, but with practice, it came quite naturally.

  It wouldn’t take me long to buy the supplies and then I could enjoy a leisurely walk through town. The bazaar was similar to Jerusalem’s Old City. Dothan was a major hub along the well-traveled route between Samaria and Nazareth—a good thing since we received most of our news from weary travelers passing through.

  As I walked past a women’s boutique I began to daydream. What if I found a young girl I liked—would I want to stay? I shrugged. Women’s stores were not called boutiques in the first century. While I was Jewish, I felt like an outsider. The nuances of language and customs in the first century were frustrating. How would any Jewish girl here find me attractive? I hoped I didn’t appear as awkward to others as I sometimes felt.

  Someone called my name, “Daniel.”

  I looked around. No, it couldn’t be! Was that my sister behind the counter? I rushed over to see.

  “What are you doing here?” Martha asked. “Mother said you wanted to finish your studies before you came to see my new store.”

  I stared at her. Was she really my sister? She looked like her, she knew my name, and she had my sister’s mannerisms, but what was she doing here?

  Martha leaned towards me with concern on her face—“Daniel, are you all right?”

  I chuckled. “I’m fine. I—I just didn’t expect to see you.”

  She threw up her hands. “Why else would you be in Dothan but to see me?”

  I smiled. I needed to embrace her reality. “Yes, I decided to come.” I remembered all the pranks I had played on her when we were young. I had been cruel at her expense, but fortunately, she never held it against me. Did she travel back in time, too? No—my sister in 2015 hadn’t opened a store in Dothan. This was a different reality. I told myself, things were not as they appeared.

  I stepped back to admire her business and waved my hand. “Is this all yours?”

  “Yes,” she exclaimed. “Let me show you around.”

  The shop was small, but for a woman to own her own store in any century was remarkable. I had a new appreciation for my sister’s talents. She inherited our father’s business sense.

  Too many questions went through my head. I would start with the easy ones first. “So how do you get these fine linens from Syria?”

  “Traders are always willing to do business with me, so I have been able to avoid the journey myself. Our father’s name is good among the Arabs,” she added.

  Sadness hit me that he was no longer with us. She sensed my feelings.

  “Don’t be upset,” said Martha. “We are doing what Father would have wanted us to do—pursuing our passions, even though it took a while to convince Mother to let us choose.”

  So was my mother here too? Was Mother the same in both places—in Jerusalem during the first century as well as 2015?

  If only I could remember what happened after I saw the bright light. Had one of our enemies invented technology that could send a person back in time? Or maybe they had brainwashed Martha—no, there was no way they could create something this elaborate.

  “Daniel, are you listening to me?” Martha asked.

  I turned my attention back to her. “Sorry,” I said. “Daydreaming.”

  “Anyway,” Martha continued, “the Silk Road gives me great exposure here—less competition and more business than in Jerusalem.”

  I nodded. “A good business decision on your part.”

  I tried to listen to her, but my thoughts were on time travel. How did I travel back in time? I thought about Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. The only problem was his theory dealt with traveling forwards in time, not backwards. So how did I go backwards?

  Martha waved her hand in front of my face. “Daniel, are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, yes, I am. Sorry.”

  She talked about the price of imported cloths, but I didn’t recognize the brands. My mind strayed. Why the first century? Why couldn’t I have visited the Renaissance period when Mozart and Handel wrote classical music? Or why couldn’t I have spent an afternoon in Florence with Leonardo Da Vinci? I would have told him that many of his drawings would become a reality hundreds of years later and he wasn’t a bastard son because of his illegitimacy.

  What about the early 1900s? I could have met Albert Einstein. Why, God, this place and this time period?

  “Daniel, you aren’t listening to me again,” Martha chided.

  “I am,” I assured her.

  “What did I say?”

  “You were talking about the price of various imported cloths.”

  Martha smiled. “You were listening.” She added, “You never were much into the family business, were you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have the enthusiasm for it that you and Father had.”

  Martha reached over and laid her hand on mine. “Daniel, be well. You have other gifts. God is good.”

  I laughed. Martha in 2015 was probably the most religious of any of us. Perhaps this Martha was a twin to my sister. She seemed to have no knowledge of anything except the present. She talked about our mother and missing father.

  Did another Daniel, son of Aviv, live in first century Jerusalem? I’d heard that everyone has a twin. Maybe my twin lived here. What would happen if I went to Jerusalem and met him—or me? I was envious that apparently my twin was able to pursue being a doctor while I was stuck in the wrong century.
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  “Would you like some water?” Martha asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. “That would be great.”

  She stepped over to the water jug and filled my mug. Perhaps God was trying to get my attention. I had abandoned my Jewish heritage for too long.

  I shrugged. “Ani lo mevin,” I said under my breath. I didn’t understand how it happened, but I was overjoyed to meet Martha. She seemed happy to be running her own store. Was she really my sister, though? What could I ask her that only she would know?

  She handed me the cup and I took several sips before testing her.

  “Martha, have you heard any news recently from our brother, Jacob?”

  Martha frowned. “You know I can’t talk about Jacob.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll be glad when this mission is over.”

  Martha nodded. “Soon it will be.”

  She was definitely my sister.

  CHAPTER 11 OPPORTUNITY

  I arrived back at Jacob’s Inn encouraged. Maybe there were others like me. How else could people come up with such crazy plots in movies and books? And those that couldn’t learn to function—maybe they were the ones who ended up at treatment centers. This much I was sure of—I’d be the same person if I was born in the first century as I was in the twenty-first century

  As I unpacked the supplies and put them away, Dr. Luke entered the lobby. He walked over and watched me, not saying anything at first.

  The doctor was dressed in his usual white robe and sandals, the typical clothing worn around here, but I imagined him wearing a white coat in a prestigious hospital.

  He approached me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Daniel, you’re a hard worker.”

  “Thank you.”

  I continued to stock the shelves as my spirits soared at the unexpected compliment.

  “I have something I want to share with you, an opportunity,” Dr. Luke said.

  I stopped and looked up.

  The doctor had a big grin on his face. “Can we talk about something important?”

  I nodded. When people say such things, I think I’m in trouble, so I was glad he began with the compliment.

  I followed him over to the window table. A gentle breeze from the north blew in making the room airy and comfortable. The window overlooked a small garden that butted up next to the road. A street merchant by the entrance to the portico was selling fresh fruit and cakes to some weary travelers.

  Dr. Luke’s voice brought me back inside the room and I listened closely.

  “Daniel, I appreciate your help with the lepers and the patients. You’ve made many friends here.”

  I’d never felt myself half as caring as Dr. Luke. “You set a good example, Doctor Luke. Someday I hope to go to medical school.”

  He grinned. “You’d make an excellent doctor. When that time comes, and I don’t think it’s that far into the future, I’d be glad to write a recommendation for you.”

  “That would be great.” I was glad someone thought I could make it through medical school.

  He leaned towards me. “You know Theophilus is a good friend of mine.”

  “Yes, Doctor Luke.” I had heard the name mentioned a few times. The man was very wealthy and a high-ranking official in the Roman government.

  Dr. Luke leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Theophilus and I grew up in Antioch and attended school together when we were young. He chose to study law and I went into medicine.”

  “Both great professions,” I commented.

  “Yes, indeed. Our friendship has continued despite the heavy hand of the Romans on the Jews and his political involvement in Roman affairs.” He laughed. “Many times we have different leanings, but it makes for great conversation when we have those rare visits together.”

  I smiled in agreement.

  Dr. Luke continued. “I was in Caesarea yesterday, and Theo mentioned that a man who works for him, a scribe skilled in languages, has a mute son whom he loves. The lad is getting older and his nanny feels that he needs—well, a respectable young man to guide him through the teenage years. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he can’t talk and frustrates the nanny, so much so that the father thought having a young man to mentor the boy when he’s out of town would be of great help.”

  I agreed. “I’m sure it would be.”

  “Brutus, son of Dirk, would pay very well, provide room and board, and you could put that money towards your education.”

  “Do they live in Dothan?”

  “No, they live in Nazareth, but it’s close enough you could come by and visit from time to time—I hope.”

  “Sure.”

  Dr. Luke handed me a parchment with the details. “Here is a map that shows where they live.”

  I read the note. “So the young boy’s name is Nathan and he’s twelve?”

  Dr. Luke nodded. “That’s all I know. I’ve never met him or Brutus, but Theo spoke highly of the family. Brutus is Theo’s administrator in Caesarea. With Palestine being the bridge between the North and the South, he’s an asset for peaceful relations among the Romans, the Jews, the Samaritans, and everyone else.”

  “He must also be pretty smart, too.” Foreign languages were not my strength in school.

  Dr. Luke nodded. “He asked if I knew of anyone that would be a strong candidate. That’s when I thought of you, though I hate to lose you.”

  Dr. Luke reminisced wistfully before continuing. “He also said if the new hire could manage the livestock when the current farmhand couldn’t, he would reward him with bonus pay.”

  “I think I could learn easily enough, Doctor Luke.”

  “Great. I will send word to my friend that you will come as soon as possible. If you ever travel to Caesarea, you must stop by and meet him.”

  Dr. Luke and I stood and shook hands. I hated leaving Dothan, but I sensed this would be a great opportunity.

  Dr. Luke added as we walked outside, “You know, Daniel, you are able to perceive the needs of people in uncanny ways, almost as if you can read people’s minds. I see that as a gift from God. For a mute boy, that would be a miracle, to know what his needs are without being able to say them.”

  “I never looked at it like that, as being a gift from God.”

  “Just a thought,” Dr. Luke said. “And a great asset for someone who wants to study medicine.”

  I reflected on Dr. Luke’s words. I saw mind reading as a skill I had developed. The more I focused on people’s needs, the more I was able to perceive those needs, like learning to play the guitar. The more time I practiced, the better I played.

  But that it came from God—until now I’d thought God was angry with me. I had refused to go to the synagogue since my father disappeared and had long given up praying. Why would God want to give me anything?

  My musings turned to Nazareth. I hadn’t been to the town in years—many unresolved issues made it a difficult place to live.

  CHAPTER 12 THE BEGGAR

  I left the next morning to travel to Galilee. I had said goodbye to everyone the night before, promising to come back and visit when I had the first opportunity.

  As I passed the leper colony, I thought about stopping. I had not had a conversation with them since that first encounter, but they were never far from my mind—especially the little boy who didn’t have leprosy but lived with his leprous mom and dad.

  If I wanted to arrive in Nazareth by sundown, however, I shouldn’t stop. My focus shifted to the road ahead, the caravan route for traders—and one of the most ancient highways in the world. Too many wars depended on this highway—Hammurabi of Babylon, Sargon I of Agade, Thutmose III of Egypt, and more recently, the Crusaders and Alexander the Great. I shuddered at Israel’s long and violent history.

  The rolling hills flattened into long valleys dotted with rocky outcroppings surrounded by cedar, cypress and olive trees. I expected to run into roadblocks or checkpoints but Jews lived peacefully here with other tribes, unlike moder
n times.

  What happened to cause the animosity? I kicked the rocks under my sandals, frustrated that things were the way they were. What if we could go back and change the future?

  A young shepherd boy stood guard in a nearby fertile field. He was no more than ten or eleven. He was watching over his family’s most prized possession. His long stick was all he needed to keep away predators. The lad would probably never attend school or leave the country. His dreams began and ended on this small strip of land that had been in his family for generations.

  Opportunity to become more than a shepherd would never cross his mind. He waved as I walked by. I smiled and waved back. Maybe his way of life was better—simple and predictable. An honest lifestyle that was good enough for David—until God chose him to be king.

  The sun parked overhead making me sweat. I lamented that I had to walk rather than ride in a comfortable, air-conditioned car that would only require a fraction of the time to get there. Maybe I could muster enough strength to travel a little further before stopping to rest. As I came to the plain of Megiddo, I was surprised at how little the area had changed.

  From my high school history, I knew over two hundred battles had been fought here. Struggle to control the area was legendary. An elaborate mythology about Megiddo and stories of prophecy had survived through the centuries. Many so-called prophets predicted a cataclysmic battle to take place here in the future.

  Israel had had so many skirmishes recently that fatalists feared World War III was imminent. Armageddon was never far from the minds of many.

  I stopped to eat on the mountain of Megiddo. The panoramic view was spectacular. I admired the lush green valley—the most productive agricultural area in Israel. I dug into my bag and set out my water. I ate some figs and nuts and soaked in the afternoon sun.

  Then I heard a noise and looked behind me. I suspected an animal had crept up, looking for an easy meal from my scraps. I was surprised to see an old woman.

  She approached me as if she knew me. The strange woman wore a green dress and carried a brown bag over her shoulder. She was bald except for a few wispy strands of hair. Her sunken cheeks, boney forehead, and bulging eyes reminded me of someone you might see in a graveyard. Her stringy fingers clasped her bag. I wanted to stand but my legs felt as if they had turned to jelly.