A Deadly Rage

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A Deadly Rage; Story #8 of "Angels at the End of Time"
Topic Started: Dec 10 2007, 11:55 AM (362 Views)
kgreen20	Dec 10 2007, 11:55 AM Post #1
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	What would Tess, Monica, Andrew, and Gloria do, if they found themselves during the end-times scenario prophesied in the Bible, prior to Jesus' coming? What kinds of assignments would they receive? How would they handle their assignments? This alternate-universe series is my attempt to answer that question, to surmise how the angels would handle the events of the Rapture and the Tribulation. The first story in this ongoing series was written by Robin Day and myself. The rest, I am writing on my own. In story #8 of my end-times series, it is the middle of the Tribulation, and the murder-resurrection of Moses and Elijah and the murder-Satanic indwelling of Antonio Puccini are set to take place. Can the angels stop the perpetrators from taking part in the two murders, with the help of some old friends? And when an earthquake traps a young girl following the resurrection of Moses and Elijah, will she be found in time? AUTHOR'S NOTE: The physical descriptions of the two witnesses, Moses and Elijah, and the names they go by, were borrowed from the Left Behind series, co-authored by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. Yours truly, Kathy G.



kgreen20	Dec 10 2007, 12:04 PM Post #2
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	PROLOGUE “Ryan Whittaker has outlived his usefulness to me.” The unmistakable Italian accent came through the carved mahogany door, muted but still clear. “He has turned to that mythical Jesus, and so has his wife.” Antonio Puccini paused. “The time has come to eliminate them both.” “And their children, too?” Elijah Dayan’s unmistakable thick Israeli accent. Puccini chuckled. “Kill them, when they could be such an invaluable asset to us when they are older?” He paused. “I think not, Elijah. I will turn them over to a trusted associate to rear. He has agreed to act as their foster parent. He will rear them to be loyal.” The thuds of a pair of leather shoes reached the eavesdropper’s ears, followed by Elijah’s own chuckles. “With the pope dead and his religion gone...” He paused. “I think they should be taught to revere you. That new world religion was too impersonal, anyway. Its assets will be put to better use by you than it was by Pope Benedict.” Dayan laughed. “Very well, Excellency. When do you plan to kill them?” “Tonight. When I return from Rome.” A pause. “I will order Ryan and Kristen to meet me at the airport, and there I will have assassins shoot them.” The eavesdropper could not bear to hear anymore. He was in shock. He had long since begun to have his doubts about Puccini, but he had never imagined that their beloved world leader would be capable of something like this! A mixture of rage toward Antonio and fear for his friends, Ryan and Kristen, surged through him. He had to warn them immediately! The man took a deep breath, clenching his hands into white-knuckled balls and pressing them against his hips. Slowly, he tiptoed away from the door to Dayan’s office, his own shoes clicking softly on the linoleum floor. “I’ve got to warn them,” he muttered. “I’m not going to stand by and let them be murdered by their own employer!” He pursed his lips at the thought, then brushed his light-brown hair out of his eyes. As unwanted memories of that morning rose in his head, he made a valiant effort to resist smashing his fist against the wall. “And my own sister!” he muttered. “To think that she’d turn traitor to our faith and…and…” He shook his head. “Ryan and Kristen accepting that mythical Messiah is one thing. They’re not of our faith anyway, so I have no problem with their decision. But Deborah is something else. I will not have her praying to this—this Yeshua!” He shook his fist in the air. “If it hadn’t been for those repulsive preachers at the Wailing Wall, she never would have! She goes to visit them every chance she gets! I wish someone would kill them!” He glared at the oil painting on the wall, then took a deep breath. This was not the time to explode in anger; this was the time for prayer. Leaning against the wall, he bit his lower lip. Wish I had my prayer shawl, he thought. As an old craving welled up in him, he bit his lower lip. And a cigarette! He sighed. I've got to quit smoking! I'm ruining my health. He took another deep breath. “God of our fathers—Jehovah,” he prayed, “I’m faced with a crisis I don’t know how to deal with. Antonio Puccini wants to murder my good friends, Ryan and Kristen. And my sister has rejected our faith and turned Christian.” He raised his hand to strike the wall, then dropped it. He could ill-afford to risk attracting attention just then. “I ask You, Jehovah, to intervene. Please bring my sister back to her senses. And please protect Ryan and his family.” Opening his eyes, he trudged down the hall, till he came to the elevators. He paused for a moment, then pressed the elevator button. As soon as he could, he would contact Ryan and warn him. Unknown to him, four angels stood across the hall, watching the morose Israeli Jew wait for the elevator. “His name is David Weizmann,” Tess, the heavy-set black supervisor angel, said. “He lives alone with his younger sister, Deborah here in Jerusalem, and he works directly for Elijah Dayan.” The mass of salt-and-pepper curls piled on her head swayed as she shook her head in evident disapproval at the man’s attitude. A ruby brooch sparkled on her chest. Monica, the Irish-tongued caseworker angel, frowned. “He works for the False Prophet?” Andrew nodded. “Yes, he does.” He inserted his hands into his pants pockets as he spoke. Gloria tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “His sister’s been visiting Moses and Elijah?” She fingered her glasses, then slid them up the bridge of her nose. Tess nodded. “Yes, she has, and thanks to them, she’s become a Tribulation believer. Deborah’s always been loyal to her brother, and she’s quite concerned about him. Unfortunately, his hostility toward her new faith could drive a wedge between them that destroys them both.” Monica nodded agreement. “Where is Deborah?” “At the Wailing Wall,” Tess said. “Speaking privately with the two witnesses right now. Come with me, and I will point her out to you.” The angels left. The elevator door slid open; the man stepped inside. _______________________________________________________ “I’m so worried about my brother.” Deborah spoke softly, not wanting to attract attention. “He’s a good man, but he’s so stubborn.” She sighed. “He thinks he’s right to reject Yeshua as Messiah, because he think Yeshua’s an impostor. I can’t get him to realize that the prophecies all point to Him!” She bit her lower lip. “I’m afraid to even talk about Yeshua to David anymore, or pray in front of him.” The three stood alone in an enclosed spot near the Wailing Wall. The afternoon sunlight illuminated the whole area; fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky. For once, Deborah had found the two witnesses alone, a most unusual occurrence during the day. A few minutes before, when she had arrived, Eli had beckoned to her and gestured toward that spot. As always, he and Moishe wore ragged sackcloth robes and went barefoot. Both had long gray beards and long mustaches; lines crisscrossed their faces. Now, as she wrapped her arms around her chest, he nodded. The now-familiar scent of ashes wafted toward Deborah’s nose. “Think not that Jesus came to bring peace, but a sword,” Eli paraphrased. Deborah brushed a tear out of her eye. “I know. And that sword can tear families apart.” She sighed. “I love my older brother, and I don’t want to lose him. What should I do?” “Pray for him, and trust God.” Moishe touched her shoulder. “God loves your brother. He will never leave you nor forsake you.” The young woman smiled wanly. “Thank you.” She half-turned to look behind her. “I must go now.” She walked away, with a lighter, brisker step than the slow trudge she had approached them with. Her shoes clicked on the rectangular stone tiles lining the area in front of the Wailing Wall. The same four angels watched her go. “Deborah and her brother were born in Yugoslavia, when it was still under Communist control,” Tess said. “When David was five and Deborah was just a baby, her parents took the kids and escaped. Along with the family of their uncle.” Monica gaped at her, then at the departing Deborah. “I remember them! Their lives were in mortal danger, so God sent me to—” “To save their lives,” Tess finished. “To get them safely out of the country.” Monica nodded, clasping her hands in front of her waist. “Yes. I was still in Search and Rescue, then.” Andrew shook his head. “David doesn’t know it, but he’s going to have to flee again, very soon. The murders of Moses and Elijah are just days away now.” “And the murder of Antonio Puccini?” Gloria tilted her head. “Yes. But he will come back, indwelt by Satan.” Tess shook her head. “When he does, he will commit the abomination of desolation. Then every Jew in Israel will have to flee to Petra, including David.” She paused, folding her arms across her chest. “The Father is soon going to enlist the help of some old friends of ours, in saving their lives—Richard and Christina Daly. And that of Ryan and Kristen. But before that day comes, David must learn to accept the truth.” Gloria winced. “Will David murder the two witnesses?” Andrew shook his head. “No, Gloria, Puccini will do that. But his cohort, Dayan, is going to enlist David’s help in preparing for it.” He sighed. “It won’t be easy, to get through to David. His own hostility toward the witnesses runs deep.” Monica sighed in her turn, sadness welling up in her. She watched the young Israeli woman until she disappeared around the corner. Overhead, a snow-white dove flew over the Wailing Wall; the two witnesses raised their heads to watch it disappear. END OF PROLOGUE



kgreen20	Dec 10 2007, 12:12 PM Post #3
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 1 As that same dove flew past their apartment window in Rome, later that day, Ryan Whittaker leaned back in his armchair and set his coffee cup on the mahogany coffee table. It landed with a soft clink in the china saucer. He glanced out the window at the late-afternoon sunlight pouring into their living room, then smiled at the baby in Kristen’s arms. “Well, we truly are blessed.” He reached down to tousle his two-year-old son’s soft hair. “First a son, and now a daughter.” Kristen beamed. “Yes. I’m so glad God gave them to us!” Sadness creased her forehead. “I just pray that God will let them live to see the Glorious Appearing.” She reached up a hand to brush her hair behind her back. Two pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes, gleaming in the late-afternoon sunlight. “So do I. Moreover, I pray that God will let us survive.” Ryan shook his head. “With the pope dead, it’s only a matter of time, now, till things heat up.” “I know. Moses and Elijah—then Antonio Puccini...” Kristen’s voice trailed off. The cell phone beeped; Ryan reached sideways to pick it up. As he held it to his ear, a familiar Israeli accent reached his ears. “Hello, Ryan. Shalom!” Ryan smiled broadly. “David! Hello. Shalom to you, too.” He straightened his back, exchanging smiles with Kristen. “How’s Deborah?” “She’s all right.” David’s voice sounded just a little hard; Ryan couldn’t put a finger on why. “However, there’s no time to waste. You and Kristen are in great danger, Ryan.” Ryan shot a worried look at his wife, who clutched the baby to her bosom. “Danger?” “Yes. You know that Puccini is in Israel, meeting with my employer Dayan?” Ryan nodded. “Yes. My substitute pilot took him there, because my wife and I are on maternity leave.” “I know.” David paused. “My friend, you must get out of Rome right now! Go into hiding and stay in hiding! I just overheard Puccini and Dayan talking, a couple of hours ago. Puccini knows you’re Christians, and he plans to murder you and Kristen, and take your children for the state. This evening, when he arrives from his trip.” Ryan leaped to his feet; gripping the arms of her chair, Kristen leaned forward, alarm etched on her face. For a long moment, Ryan locked eyes with his wife. “Thank you for warning me, David.” “You’re welcome. Good-bye.” He paused. “Let me know when you and the family are coming, and I’ll meet you at Tel Aviv.” “OK. I will.” A click, followed by a dial tone, followed David’s voice. Slowly, Ryan laid the cell phone on the coffee table and bit his lower lip. Slowly, he turned to face his wife. Although stunned by the news, Ryan was not totally surprised. In the back of his mind, he’d been expecting Puccini to attempt something like this sooner or later. Now that the time had come, he was determined to protect his wife and children. He had to get them away from Rome, and quickly. “Ryan?” Kristen rose to her feet, her face white. “What’s wrong?” She laid baby Nicole on the armchair, then turned to face her husband. Ryan took a deep breath. “We’re in danger, Kristen,” he said slowly. “We’ve got to run for it immediately. Puccini wants to kill us and take our children for the state.” Before Kristen could react, the regular phone jangled. Making a face, Ryan picked it up. “Hello, Ryan,” Puccini said. Ryan bit his lower lip. “Hello, Antonio. How are your meetings with Elijah Dayan coming?” “They are coming nicely.” Antonio sounded pleased. “I am getting ready to return to Rome now, and I want you and Kristen to meet me at the airport in four hours. We have a flight scheduled, and your substitute cannot make it, so I must ask you to cut your maternity leave short. Both of you.” Before Ryan could answer, the phone suddenly went dead. “Wha-at...?” Puzzled, he laid the receiver on its base, then picked it up again. The dial tone buzzed in his ear, same as always. “Hello, Ryan.” Andrew appeared on the other side of the coffee table, glowing, wearing a beige suit. “God has just disconnected your call, so you wouldn’t be obligated to make any promises to Puccini. He won’t be able to get back through at this time, so don’t worry about a repeat call.” Ryan nodded. That was a relief! Andrew paused, looking from Ryan to Kristen. “Don’t do as he says. Take David’s warning and get out now. Go to Israel. Another angel and I have a private plane waiting at the airport. Go with me there, and we will take you to Tel-Aviv.” Ryan and Kristen exchanged glances, then nodded. “Come on, honey. Let’s pack.” Ryan put his arm around Kristen’s shoulder, then turned to Andrew. “Would you watch the babies for us?” He grabbed his cell phone. “I’ve got to call David.” He paused. "Then I've got to call a friend who lives nearby and arrange to visit him immediately. I'm going to have to convert our bank account into gold, and fast." “Certainly.” Andrew smiled, as Kristen handed him her daughter. The two hurried toward their bedroom, their shoes softly thudding on the soft carpet. A little over an hour later, Andrew drove them to the airport in Tess’s old Cadillac convertible. He had pulled up the top so that no one would see his passengers plainly. Ryan leaned back, as the hum of the air-conditioning soothed his overwrought emotions. Andrew craned his head to look back at the two. Chuckling, the angel of death explained, “Tess gave me permission to borrow it for this drive.” Ryan grinned. “Tess is very protective of this car, isn’t she?” Andrew bit back a grin. “She calls it her baby!” Ryan laughed. He could understand that sentiment. Kristen smiled wanly. “Please thank her for us, would you?” Andrew promised that he would. At that moment, he entered the airport grounds; a few minutes later, he pulled up next to a small plane. As he escorted the passengers aboard, the convertible vanished. “Hello, Adam.” Andrew greeted the other angel of death, who had taken his seat on the flight officer’s side. Both angels now wore pilot’s uniforms, Ryan noticed. “Hello.” Adam smiled. ‘Well, let’s be on our way.” He removed his cap and laid it on the shelf next to him. In the back, Ryan and Kristen took their cushioned seats and fastened their seat belts. The flight went smoothly; to Ryan and Kristen’s relief, the control tower did not question Andrew about his passengers. A few hours later, at midnight, the plane touched down at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. Glittering stars dotted the black sky. The Whittakers thanked the two angels for transporting them to safety, then entered the terminal. A familiar figure appeared at the bottom of the escalator. Thirty years old, he had light-brown hair, green eyes, and tanned skin; he was tall and skinny. The man had a narrow nose and a cleft in his chin. “David!” Ryan rushed toward his Israeli friend, Kristen right behind. The two men embraced, then David bowed toward Kristen. “It’s so good to see you,” Ryan said. “And to see you.” David frowned. “We’d better hurry—there’s no time to waste. I’ve got a car outside; I’ll take you to Jerusalem. You can stay with my sister and me.” He smiled at the babies. “Your babies are really growing!” Kristen beamed. “Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Ryan gazed proudly at little Jeremy and Nicole. During the drive, the three adults chatted nonstop. They shared stories of recent events. The babies slept peacefully in car seats David had brought for the trip. Ryan noticed, however, that David did not speak of his sister. Bad sign—he usually speaks of her freely, he thought. I hope she’s all right! As they drove through East Jerusalem, Ryan and Kristen gazed at the old familiar sites. When they came to the Wailing Wall, now silent and dark, David stopped the car suddenly. A loud honk behind them startled all three, so David pulled up to the curb and turned off the ignition. Before Ryan or Kristen could react, David leaped out of the car. His face turned red; he clenched his hands and pressed them against his sides. “I might have known,” he muttered, rage in his voice. END OF CHAPTER 1



kgreen20	Dec 11 2007, 11:27 AM Post #4
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 2 “What’s wrong, David?” Stepping out of the car, Kristen approached him, glancing behind her toward the sleeping babies. A cool breeze ruffled her hair as she hurried toward him. “That!” David pointed a trembling finger at a lone figure standing near the two witnesses. “My sister’s right there!” He pressed his fists against his hips. Ryan peered at the person, till he saw that she was a familiar plump figure with shoulder-length black hair. It’s Deborah! he thought. What’s she doing here at this time of night? “David—” he began. Before Ryan could say another word, David rushed toward the three, his shoes thudding on the stone tiles lining the ground, rage surging in his heart. He wanted to shake Deborah, slap her, yell at her. It infuriated him that his own sister, of all people, would turn traitor to their faith by turning to that impostor! He would make her regret that she had ever begun to listen to those two men if she didn’t immediately come to her senses. When David was within 10 feet of her, he paused. He took a deep breath, praying for control of his temper. Then he marched toward his sister, his lips pressed into a thin line. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “David!” she gasped, her hazel eyes widening in shock. “How dare you?!” David roared. “You—you—traitor! You are a disgrace to me, a disgrace to our parents—!” He raised his hand to slap her; she jerked away from him and backed away, clutching her purse against her waist. “You—you—!” he roared. “I will not have my sister listening to these—these traitors! Least of all in the middle of the night—you should have been in bed by now! You come with me right now, Deborah! You’re going home!” He glared at the two men, who stood regally, with impassive expressions etched on their deeply lined faces. “These men have already killed too many—they might kill you!” Deborah shook her head. “No, they won’t,” she said softly, glancing toward the two evangelists. “They won’t kill any Jew who’s recognized his or her Messiah. They know me, David.” Ryan rushed toward them. “Uh, David, could I talk to you privately?” he asked. Taking a deep breath, David nodded. Ryan led him away from Deborah. Ryan wiped his hands on his jeans, then looked his friend in the eyes. “David, you’re not going to succeed in making her reject Jesus.” He kept his voice low. “All you’re going to do is drive a wedge between you that can never be fixed. She loves you dearly, but she will not renounce her Messiah even for you.” David glared at him. “My sister is a traitor!” Ryan shook his head. “I pray that one day, God will open your eyes. In the meantime, listen to me.” He gripped David’s shoulder. “My friend, Richard Daly—the one I told you about—well, he thought he could bully his wife into rejecting God. He was a hardcore atheist when she first accepted Him, and her faith enraged him, threatened him. He even threatened to divorce her if she didn’t give it up.” David sighed. “Obviously, he didn’t.” “No, he didn’t. God finally got his attention.” Ryan glanced toward the two witnesses. “And I believe that He will get yours, but I pray it will not take an awful tragedy to do so. In the meantime, leave Deborah alone. Your point about her leaving the house at night is well-taken because that’s dangerous, but let her visit the witnesses during the day if she chooses. Don’t give her such a hard time, because it won’t work anyway.” David exhaled slowly, slumping his shoulders. “All right. I’ll leave her alone.” He paused to rub his forehead. “For now.” He glanced at the moon’s half-circle hanging over the top of the Wailing Wall, then bit his lower lip. He returned to Deborah, who waited with held breath. His shoes clicked on the smooth stone tiles. “Come on, Deborah.” His voice had softened. “We have guests, and we need to take them to our home. Ryan and Kristen have fled from Antonio Puccini.” He pointed his finger at her chest. “Don’t leave the house at night again! Any criminal could have assaulted you.” Ryan nodded agreement. “Yes. He’s right about that, Deborah. It’ll be much safer to visit the witnesses during the day.” He paused. “David, here, told us that Puccini was planning to kill us, so we had to get away.” Deborah winced. “I’m so glad you’re safe, and I will pray that you remain safe.” She hung her purse from her left shoulder. The group returned to David’s car, and drove to the Weizmann house. “Come in.” David swung the front left car door open, then climbed out of the car. “Feel free to stay until you get a place of your own.” “Thanks.” Ryan smiled, then glanced at Kristen. “We left so suddenly, we didn’t have time to pack all our things. They’re still at our apartment.” He opened the car door as he spoke, then proceeded to un-strap the babies from the car seats. Kristen nodded agreement. “We may not be able to get them back, hon. I don’t know if it’ll ever be safe to go back to Rome.” She grimaced, then smiled. “At least we brought our Bibles with us. That’s most important.” “I agree.” Nodding, Ryan lifted out two-year-old Jeremy and handed him to his wife. He then lifted out Nicole and held her against his shoulder. The baby cooed, then closed her eyes. A cool breeze caressed Ryan’s cheek as he repositioned Nicole. Deborah touched Ryan’s arm. “Yes, it is.” He grimaced, then nodded agreement. “Trust me, Ryan, my family well knows what it is to flee for one’s life. We had to do that, ourselves.” Kristen nodded. “When?” “When they escaped from Yugoslavia,” Ryan told her. “David himself only told me about it a few months ago.” “That’s right. David was just five at the time, and I was a baby no older than Nicole, here.” David nodded. “She’s right. I was just a little boy when our family escaped from Yugoslavia. We faced death the whole time, and to this day, I marvel that we even made it. Jehovah protected us.” He shook his head, exchanging glances with his sister. “He certainly did,” Ryan agreed. David glanced at the velvet sky glistening with stars. “Let’s go inside—it’ll be morning in a few hours.” Inside, Deborah glanced at the wall clock that hung over the couch. “And now, it’s time to go to bed.” She left the living room; David escorted the Whittakers to their guest room. “We’ll get a crib at the market first thing in the morning. I regret we had no chance to get one today,” David told them, as they entered their bedroom. Ryan and Kristen smiled their thanks; Ryan flipped the light switch. Soft light flooded the room. David paused in the doorway, fidgeting. “Are you going to call your sister, Ryan?” Ryan and Kristen exchanged troubled glances, then laid the babies on the bed. “No.” Ryan sighed. “I hate to worry my sister or Richard, but I’m afraid to chance it. If word got back to Antonio that I called them, he’d have a manhunt sent after us in no time.” He paused. “I have prayed that God would make a way to safely let Christina and Richard know, and soon. I don’t want to keep them worrying any longer than I just have to.” David nodded. “I understand.” He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Uh, Ryan...” His voice trailed off; he rubbed his forehead. “You remember my telling you about my cousin?” Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, then nodded. “The one who moved to Rome a couple of years ago?” He put his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “Yes. With his wife. He’s in the construction business—he moved to Rome because he thought there’d be better opportunities there.” Ryan nodded. “Well, his father’s family—my uncle’s—escaped Yugoslavia with mine.” David sighed. “I haven’t heard from him in months, and I can’t stop worrying about him. You haven’t…?” Ryan shook his head. “I’ve never even met the man, David.” David shrugged. “No, I suppose you haven’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Please excuse me. You must be exhausted after that trip, and I’m tired.” He left the guest room. Upon entering his bedroom, David lit a cigarette. Minutes passed as he leaned against the wall, shoulders slumped, cigarette dangling between his fingers, acrid smoke wafting in front of his face. Although his parents had told him and Deborah many stories about their escape from Communism, he had only vague memories of that perilous escape. He remembered his parents carrying him and baby Deborah toward some huge vehicle—was it a van? They had driven in silence, not speaking a word. He also remembered their stopping and tiptoeing through thick, tall grass toward an imposing fence. The last he remembered was an unearthly light in front of that fence. To that day, he could not remember what it was. He gazed at the dim outlines of his furniture for a long moment, then trudged toward his dresser. Yawning, he trudged toward the bed and smashed the cigarette stub against the ashtray. Perching on the side of the bed, he pulled on his pajamas. “May as well say my prayers,” he muttered. Grasping his soft woolen prayer shawl, he draped it around his shoulders. For the next several minutes, he prayed to Jehovah; at the end of his prayer session, he folded the shawl, put it on the bureau, and went to bed. For the next few days, things were quiet and peaceful at the Weizmann house. When Deborah was alone with the Whittakers, she would talk about her newfound faith. “What the witnesses said got my attention,” she said, once. “God really convicted me.” She beamed. “I’m so grateful that God has removed the blindness from my spirit, and I pray he will remove it from David’s.” They were sitting in the living room. Deborah perched on the edge of the cushioned armchair, and Ryan and Kristen sat side by side on the upholstered couch, china coffee mugs in their hands. Nicole lay on a folded blanket on the floor, and Jeremy was toddling from table to chair to table. Ryan watched his son for a long moment, then smiled back at Deborah. “I’m sure it was a joyful day for God, and for His angels, too.” Kristen chuckled. “What’s so funny?” Deborah tilted her head, her brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Only that we’ve had personal experience with angels,” Kristen explained. “God has sent them to the Dalys and to us, more than once.” She set her cup on the coffee table; it landed with a clink. The cushion lining the couch sagged under her as she leaned back. Ryan nodded agreement. “In fact, He sent two angels to bring us here. They flew the small plane that brought us to Tel-Aviv.” He took a sip of his now-cool coffee. “Someday, Deborah, we’ll tell you about our other angelic encounters.” The coffee cup clinked as he set it in its saucer. Deborah smiled broadly. “What a privilege! I’d love to meet these angels.” She glanced down at the Bible in her lap. “There are so many accounts in the Bible about angels and angelic encounters. But I have yet to meet one. I’d love to meet Gabriel, who took those messages to Daniel and who later announced the births of Yeshua and John to Mary and Zechariah.” The entrance door swung open; David stepped in. He glared at Deborah for a long moment, his face beet-red, then slammed the door. “Forgive me, Ryan, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” He approached his sister, who sat frozen. “I want to talk to you alone, Deborah!” He pointed at the hallway entrance with a trembling finger. END OF CHAPTER 2



kgreen20	Dec 11 2007, 11:39 AM Post #5
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 3 As David followed his sister to her bedroom, the rage he had felt on the day of the Whittakers’ arrival surged in him now. He wanted to punish his sister, to make her pay for her decision. He did not want her there anymore, unless she renounced Jesus. Deborah laid her leather-covered Bible on the dresser, then turned to face her brother. David glared at her for a long moment, while she stood stock-still, gazing at him. She did not say anything. At last, David hurled a china vase against the wall. It crashed against the wall, then landed in shards. Deborah flinched. “That’s it!” he yelled. “I’ve had it, Deborah! You have two choices: either you give up this Christian religion, or you leave this house and live elsewhere! The choice is your.” He coughed, then slammed his fist on the bureau; the picture she kept there of herself and David landed on its back. “I mean it—I will not have this any longer!” Deep sadness welling in her eyes, Deborah nodded. Yanking open the closet door, she dragged out her suitcase and set it on the bed. “I’ve been expecting this day for some time,” she said. “I will leave.” She paused. “But you will be in my prayers, David.” David marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Deborah leaned against the closet door, tears spilling over her cheeks. She pressed her nose against the door’s smooth wooden surface. “Help me!” she prayed. “Help me, God. I need a place to stay.” Taking a deep breath, she tried to think. Of course! The two witnesses could help her! She would go back to them and explain what happened, then seek their counsel. Surely, they’d know where she could go. With trembling fingers, she packed her clothes and a few other things, then left the house through the back entrance. As the door clicked softly behind her, she heard one of the babies crying. David must have frightened them with his temper, she thought. An hour later, she reached the Wailing Wall. Silently, as she clutched her suitcase and purse next to her, she prayed that God would give the witnesses an opening to speak His message to her. As usual, she found a crowd milling around. Overhead, the sun beat down on her scalp; drops of sweat rolled down her cheeks. “Hard to believe it would be this hot in March,” she muttered. “Where did they go?” a man shouted. “Think they turned into cowards and ran?” “Good!” another shouted. “They should run—they know that everybody hates them! I wish they’d die!” Deborah’s suitcase handle slipped out of her now-sweaty fingers as horror surged in her heart. Her suitcase landed with a thud on the stone beneath her. The witnesses were gone! Where would she go? Who would take her in? “I have no bank account, Jehovah, and no gold,” she whispered. “Help me! Please.” “He will, Deborah.” Deborah spun around to find a man with sandy-brown hair standing behind her. He wore a pair of jeans and a dark-brown T-shirt; caring and compassion radiated in his eyes. “What—who—?” she stammered. “I’m an angel. My name is Andrew.” He touched her shoulder. “God sent me to tell you that He has heard your prayer, and He will help you. He is pleased with your faith, Deborah, and He wants you to know that your prayers for your brother have been heard.” “That is right.” A familiar voice startled her; she spun around to find Moishe approaching her, followed by Eli. Their bare, dirty feet slid smoothly on the stone tiles. “You trust in God; trust also in Jesus. He will provide, Deborah.” Andrew nodded agreement. “Come with me, and I’ll take you to a place the Lord has prepared for you.” He nodded at the witnesses, who inclined their heads in return. Deborah gaped at the angel of death. “You’re—you’re an angel?” Her voice faltered; Andrew nodded. “I’ve prayed that God would allow me to see an angel!” Chuckling, Andrew led her toward a cab. “God sends angels when there is need for them,” he told her. “And you definitely have that need now.” Removing a set of jangling keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door for Deborah, then slid into the driver’s seat. The cushioned front passenger seat sagged slightly beneath her as she leaned against its back. Andrew drove Deborah to a hotel in West Jerusalem. There, he found Tess perched behind a pine desk in the office. Deborah glanced at Andrew, then hung her head. “Forgive me, but I have no money. No bank account, and no gold.” She sighed. “My brother threw me out before I had a chance to…” “Don’t worry about it, baby. This is on the house.” Tess smiled at her puzzled expression. “Or, to put it another way, there will be no charge for your stay here. If you’ll wait here, I’ll have someone get you a key to your room.” Andrew smiled at Deborah. “I’ll see you again soon.” He left. Deborah leaned against the desk, pressing her fingertips against the desk’s smooth surface, waiting for Tess. Thank You, God, she prayed. You have indeed provided me with a place to stay. She sighed. Please get through to my brother! _______________________________________________________ Days later, back in New York, Richard paced the living room floor, arms folded across his middle, his brown leather shoes softly thudding on the carpet. Periodically, he reached up to wipe his face as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His latest attempt to call his brother-in-law, Ryan, had met with failure. In the hall, he could hear his wife praying for her brother. Their adopted daughter, Rachel, was in the backyard, shooting baskets. Richard had been teaching her to play basketball in recent months. “Please, God,” he heard Christina pray, “look after my brother and his family. If any danger has threatened them, please keep them safe.” She paused. “And please make them contact me!” “Amen,” Richard muttered. Folding his arms across his chest, he shook his head. He’d been making similar prayers, but so far, they seemed to have bounced off the ceiling. Neither he nor Christina could stop worrying about Ryan and Kristen and the children. They hadn’t heard from either of them in many days; their efforts to call them in Rome had been unsuccessful. He rubbed his hair, front to back, then sighed. Setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, he marched into the hallway to find his wife. Christina leaned against the wall, gazing down at the tufts of carpet flattened beneath her slippers. “Our prayers have gotten us nowhere this time. We’ve got to act,” he told her. “I’ve got to get to Rome. I’ve got to find out what’s happened to Ryan and Kristen and the babies. I can’t just wait any longer—something may have happened to them.” Christina nodded agreement. “That’s my fear, too.” She touched her husband’s arm. “Rachel and I are going with you.” Richard shook his head. “No, you’re not! I’m going alone.” Scowling, he folded his arms across his shoulders. “Ryan would call if he could—his silence tells me that something’s happened. I want you and Rachel safe, Christina. You’re staying behind.” He glared at her as she pursed her lips, a sure sign she was about to argue with him. “Christina, think of Rachel! She needs you.” Christina frowned. “So does Ryan—he’s my brother, don’t forget.” She paused, twisting a strand of hair around her index finger. “You also forget, Richard—the Great Tribulation is right around the corner. You could still be stuck there when it begins, and then you wouldn’t be able to protect us. Rachel and I will be as safe with you as we would be here.” “Listen to your wife, Richard.” A familiar Irish brogue startled Richard, and he whirled around to find Monica standing behind him, clasping her hands in front of her waist. “Mo—Monica—!” He extended his hand. “This is a pleasure!” “It sure is!” Beaming, Christina rushed toward the angel to hug her. “We haven’t seen you in so long!” Laughing, Monica embraced them both, then stepped back. Her face turned serious. “Christina is right, Richard—New York will be no safer than Rome when the second half of the Tribulation starts. God has plans for you three that make it necessary for you to go there now.” She paused, a serious expression creasing her forehead. “Because you’re right—Ryan does need you. Things are coming to a head. For everyone.” Richard nodded his acquiescence. “Monica, tell me. Do you have any idea where Ryan is?” Monica nodded, her face sad. The pearl earrings dangling from her ears swayed back and forth. “Yes, but the Father has forbidden me to tell you where. Don’t worry, he’s safe. God will lead you to him when the time is right.” She paused. “He wants you to go to Jerusalem, not Rome. And stay together, all three of you—you will be safer if you do.” Richard and Christina exchanged nods. “We will,” Christina promised. “Please tell Ryan and Kristen we’re on our way.” Christina was relieved. At least, her older brother was unharmed. Now that she knew Ryan was safe, she couldn’t wait to see him again. She let out a deep sigh as she relaxed. “I am so glad,” she said. “Richard and I have been so worried!” Putting an arm around his wife, Richard nodded agreement. “We’ve done our best to keep our worries from Rachel and to pray about them, but it’s been hard.” Monica smiled, compassion radiating in her eyes. She touched Richard’s arm, then Christina’s. “The Father has them in His hands, Christina. He loves them, and He loves you.” She vanished. Christina turned toward the end of the hall. “I must get Rachel. We’ve got to pack.” “Yes. And I need to call Kennedy International Airport and arrange for their next flight to Israel.” Richard strode toward their bedroom, where he made the phone call. When he had ordered three first-class plane tickets, he proceeded to pack a suitcase and trunk. Christina and Rachel did the same. The flight to Tel Aviv went smoothly; when they arrived at Ben-Gurion Airport, Richard hired a cab to take them to Jerusalem. As soon as they pulled up in front of an imposing hotel, Richard gave the cab driver a tip above the requested fare. “Well.” Christina sighed, then put an arm around Rachel. “Now that we’re here, where do we go?” Richard looked up at the luxury hotel the cab had dropped them off at. “Let’s get a room first, then decide.” Rachel smiled, as she fingered her rhinestone necklace. “I’m getting hungry.” She scratched her forehead. She and her mother both slung their purses onto their shoulders. Rachel wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. “So are we, honey. Let’s find a place to check in first, then we’ll get something to eat.” Richard patted her shoulder. “It’s unusually hot here—I didn’t expect to find it this warm in March in Israel.” Rachel made a face. As they approached the door, a man bumped into Rachel. “Excuse me! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The man nodded toward the 15-year-old girl, then stood stock-still, rubbing his forehead; a scowl etched his face. He had light-brown hair, tanned skin, and a narrow nose. “You must be Americans.” He immediately smoothed the scowl from his face. Richard and Christina exchanged glances. “Yes, we are. We just arrived today.” The man put his hands in his pockets. A welcoming smile spread across his face, although a hard glint still appeared in his eyes. “So many Americans have come to visit our city since Puccini signed the peace treaty, three-and-a-half years ago. It’s my pleasure to welcome you.” He nodded toward Christina, then toward Rachel. “David Weizmann.” “Richard Daly.” Richard extended his hand. “My wife Christina, and our daughter Rachel.” The man dropped his hand to his side; he gaped at Richard. “Richard Daly, you said?” “Well—yes.” Richard furrowed his eyebrows. David shook his head, his eyes slowly widening. A beaming smile spread across his face as the glint in his eyes disappeared. “Forgive me—a friend of mine has told me about you! He’s an American, too, and he worked for Puccini in Rome until very recently.” He rubbed his fingers over the cleft in his chin as Richard and Christina exchanged stunned glances. END OF CHAPTER 3



kgreen20	Dec 11 2007, 11:46 AM Post #6
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 4 Christina stared at David. Her mouth dropped open. “Uh, forgive us, sir, but what is his name?” She swallowed hard. “My brother works in Rome, and he and his family have disappeared. We’re trying to find them.” Her voice shook. David smiled sadly. “I don’t doubt you are.” He paused. “His name is Ryan Whittaker.” He lowered his voice. “He and his family are staying with me. Come with me, and I’ll take you to them.” Christina beamed. “That is most kind of you. Thank you!” Richard nodded agreement. Thank You, God! Suddenly, a gleaming black limousine pulled up to the curb; to Richard’s horror, Elijah Dayan stepped out, dressed in a gray polyester suit. Please, God, Richard silently prayed, don’t let him see us. Elijah stared hard at David. To Richard’s relief, the man ignored the Dalys. “Weizmann! Come here.” Slumping his shoulders, David sighed. “Go ahead and check in. I’ll take you to see them later.” He nodded in Elijah’s direction. “Duty calls.” As the Dalys watched him go, a familiar voice startled them. “I believe you three need a ride?” Richard whirled; to his joy, Tess stood nearby. “Tess, of all—angels!” Laughing, he embraced her; Christina and Rachel followed suit. Tess nodded toward her gleaming Cadillac convertible, parked nearby. “I’ll take you to the Weizmann home. Come with me.” She put a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Rachel Nicole Daly, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown! Last time I saw you, you were just a child. Now you’re maturing into a lovely young woman!” Rachel laughed. “Thanks. I’m 15 now.” Tess hugged her. “Daddy’s teaching me to play basketball.” The young girl looked at her father, who chuckled and nodded. The Dalys picked up their luggage and followed the heavy-set angel toward the red car. The air conditioning felt good on their skins as they admired the scenery whizzing past them. Half an hour later, they stopped in front of a two-story frame house. Ryan rushed out the door, followed by Kristen, joy etched on both faces. For the next few minutes, the two families shared hugs and greetings. “I prayed that God would make a way to contact you,” Ryan said, a few minutes later, in the living room. “I dared not call you after we escaped from Rome.” “Puccini was going to kill you?” Richard frowned. “Yes. Kristen, too.” Ryan sighed. “And he was going to take our children. He knows we’re believers now, so he was determined to eliminate us.” He shook his head. “And if it hadn’t been for David, he might well have succeeded. We’re safe for the moment, but we’ve got to remain in hiding.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Of course.” Christina smiled, then set her soft leather purse down on the coffee table. “We’re here now, Ryan, and we’ll be here for as long as you need us.” Ryan put his hands in his pockets. “I’d take you to see the babies, but they’re asleep, now.” Christina and Richard nodded. “By the way, how are the young people you took care of at the orphanage?” “Last time we saw them, they were fine.” Richard chuckled. “Christina, here, has been quite a mother to the orphaned young people our home church took in. That is, until they had to go into hiding, to escape the new world religion, that is.” He shook his head at the memory, then gazed at his wife with proud eyes. “And she’s a wonderful mother to our Rachel.” Christina blushed, poking him, yet a pleased gleam appeared in her eyes. “Rachel’s a sweet girl. Always has been.” She hugged her adopted daughter to her side. “And she’s been maturing in her faith by leaps and bounds.” Rachel giggled. “Aw, Mom!” She looked away from her mother toward the beams of sunlight pouring through the front window. They made a rectangle of light on the carpet. Laughing, Kristen nodded. “Well, if you three will excuse me, I’ll make you something to eat. You must be hungry.” She paused, sadness and disapproval welling up in her eyes. “Deborah should have been here to do it, but David threw her out.” She left the living room, shaking her head, as the visitors took their seats. Richard and Christina exchanged frowns. “Threw her out?” Richard asked his brother-in-law. Ryan grimaced, then sighed. “Yes. I’ll tell you about it while Kristen fixes our meal.” The mattress sagged and creaked as he shifted position on the armchair and leaned forward. _______________________________________________________ “You ready, Miss Wings?” Tess folded her arms across her chest as she gazed at the angel under her charge. Monica nodded, then glanced at the full moon overhead shedding its soft beams on the city below. “I am. But where are Andrew and Gloria?” “Right here.” Andrew appeared with Gloria at Tess’s side. “We’d better be on our way.” “Yes, we had. Let’s go.” Tess pointed in the direction of the Wailing Wall. The supervisor angel led the way down the mostly-deserted sidewalk, followed by the other three angels. Their shoes clicked on the concrete underneath. Silently, she prayed that God would use the conference to give them the guidance they needed to get through to David. She couldn’t stand the thought of David resisting the truth another day, nor did she want the two Weizmanns to be separated any longer than they just had to be. She could not act, of course, until the Father told her to; until then, all she could do was befriend Deborah and give her a place to stay. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t pray and consult with the others in the meantime. A minute later, they found themselves at their destination—the Wailing Wall. In the far corner, the two witnesses crouched against the stone lichen-covered wall, heads slumped. Soft snores reached Tess’s keen ears. “Moses! Elijah!” Tess’s imperious tone rang out across the area. “Wake up!” The two witnesses leaped to their feet, then approached the angels. “Hello, Tess. We meet again.” Moses inclined his head in greeting. Elijah raised his bony hand. “Hello.” Andrew smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Gloria beamed. “I’ve been following your work ever since we met less than three-and-a-half years ago.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Moses nodded. “And we’ve been following yours, Gloria. Tess sometimes tells us about your assignments and Monica’s when she comes here.” Tess raised her hands. “Well, we’re not here to catch up on old times, but to discuss an assignment the Father has given us.” She wagged her finger as she spoke. Elijah nodded. “David Weizmann.” “Yes.” Pursing her lips, Tess put her hands on her hips. She glared at the others, looking from angel to angel, then from Moses to Elijah. A cool night breeze caressed her cheeks and ruffled her hair. Overhead, stars dotted the velvet sky. “Time is running out,” she added. “God wants you two to help us in this assignment, and you’ve got only a short time to do it. If we don’t do our job, David will be lost eternally. As it is, he’s in danger of losing his sister because he threw her out.” She sighed. “We must pray for guidance. Miss Wings, you lead off—Moses, you pray next! I’ll pray last.” Monica bowed her head. “Father, there is a man who’s lost, hurting, and he doesn’t even know it.” She swallowed. “He’s blinded by his hatred for Your Son. Please cleanse him of his hate, and open his eyes to Your love. To the truth.” Her voice faltered. Tess squeezed her shoulder. One by one, Moses, Elijah, then the three remaining angels prayed for David and Deborah. Folding her arms across her chest, Tess prayed last. “Father, get through David’s thick skull before it’s too late.” Irritation tinged her voice, the same irritation that had been building up in her since she’d taken Deborah in. “Amen,” Elijah added. Everyone raised their heads. “We will do all we can,” Moses said. “We must still preach to the people, though, until our time comes.” “I know.” Tess patted his arm. “And you just keep doing so until that day comes. But the Father wants you to help us with our assignment as well.” Andrew nodded, then looked from Moses to Elijah. “Adam and I will escort you Home, when that day comes. You will not be alone.” He put his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “No.” Elijah exchanged glances with his colleague. “The Father is with us, as He has been from the beginning.” Tess nodded agreement. “And now, we angels must leave. It will soon be midnight, and you’re about to have visitors. But we will be back.” She and the other angels disappeared. END OF CHAPTER 4



kgreen20	Dec 11 2007, 07:56 PM Post #7
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 5 Minutes later, the Dalys approached the Wailing Wall, silent and devoid of people. Ryan and Kristen crept on their heels, carrying their babies. “Please, God,” Christina whispered, “do something about David before it’s too late.” She could only hope that the witnesses would be able to give them sound counsel. A man’s soul was at stake, as was his relationship with his sister. Richard paused, then nodded toward the two witnesses, backs ramrod-straight and shoulders squared, watching them with a steady gaze. “It looks as if they’re expecting us.” Rachel hung back, fear in her eyes. “Then we mustn’t keep them waiting.” Ryan chuckled, then patted Rachel’s shoulder, coaxing a smile onto her face. “Come on, let’s go. They won’t hurt you, Rachel; they know you’re a child of God. Here, take Nicole, would you? She’s getting heavy.” Rachel swallowed. “Yes, sir.” She accepted the squirming baby from her uncle and cradled Nicole against her shoulder. The group approached the two witnesses, who stood stock-still, not making a sound. Their shoes clicked on the rectangular stone tiles as they scurried toward the two preachers. When Moishe and Eli were five feet away, Moishe raised his hand to halt them. Silently, the visitors came to a stop. The witnesses approached till they were just two feet away from their visitors. The scent of ashes wafted toward Richard’s nose as the two preachers faced the five American tourists. “God will make a way into the man’s heart,” Moishe announced. “Love him; pray for him.” “Do as they say.” Tess appeared near them, bathed in Heavenly light. “They speak God’s own words to you. That’s what David needs right now. And pray for Deborah, too.” The witnesses nodded, then returned to their spot at the corner of the Wailing Wall. Knowing that Moishe and Eli had no more to say, the Dalys and the Whittakers returned to David’s house, escorted by Tess. “I will see you tomorrow,” she promised them. The next morning, after breakfast, David announced that Elijah Dayan had a big job for him. “He wants me to help him and Puccini find a way to get to the—the madmen.” He paused to strike a match against its box, then to hold its flame to a cigarette. He took a long puff, then continued. “Since I’ve spent so much time at the Wailing Wall myself, I’ve come to know the area quite well. I’m to help Puccini find a suitable spot from which to kill them.” He smiled, yet a hard light gleamed in his eyes. “I will be glad to see them dead! I hate them!” He paced the living room back and forth, his shoes making soft thuds in the carpet, cigarette smoke gradually filling the living room with its acrid smell. Christina winced, then waved her hand to ward off the smoke. Exchanging worried glances with Richard, she slowly approached David and put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, David,” she said softly, “don’t do this. Puccini is plotting murder, and you don’t need to be involved in such a plot.” “You sure don’t,” Ryan agreed. “When the time comes, they will only be dead for a few days anyway, David. Then God will resurrect them and call back to Heaven. In full view of everybody.” “Shut up!” David glared at him, then at the others. “Don’t tell me any more fables from your Christian Bible! When Puccini is done, those two will not torment us anymore. That is all that matters. No more plagues, no more drought, no more water turning to blood, and no more people being incinerated by fire. And no more of that repulsive heresy they preach!” His face turned beet-red; he smashed the cigarette against a nearby plastic ash tray, then picked up his prayer shawl and draped it around his shoulders. “I mean it. No more!” He stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Tess materialized in the Weizmann living room. “Just remember, God is in control. He is working on David, although you can’t see it yet. Just keep loving him and praying for him, as Moses and Elijah told you to do. God will do the rest.” With a weary sigh, Christina nodded. “We’re all so worried about David.” She bit her lower lip. “If he’s capable of throwing his own sister out of their house, there’s no telling how he’ll react to us if we try to dissuade him any further. He could get himself killed, doing this.” Tess perched on the armchair beside her. The mattress sagged underneath as she leaned forward, eyes fixed on Christina’s face. “Baby, you’re not going to like hearing this, but this time, Puccini will succeed.” She looked from person to person, as deep pain etched their faces. “Their time is up, and the Book of Revelation has forecast their murder. But it also forecasts their resurrection, three-and-a-half days later. Then God will call them back up to Heaven.” Richard nodded. “When is it going to happen?” “Very soon.” Tess rose to her feet. “All you can do, now, is pray for David and for his sister.” “Is that what God wants me to do, too?” Rachel scratched her neck. Tess approached her, a warm light in her eyes. “Baby, that’s what God wants all of you to do.” Rachel nodded acquiescence. Tess patted her shoulder, then vanished. A few days later, Richard called a meeting of the two families. “I think it’s time we found another place to stay.” He gazed at the early-morning sun pouring through the living-room window. David had already left for work 15 minutes earlier; the faint scent of cigarette smoke still hung in the air. David hadn’t exchanged over five words with Richard as the two had gotten dressed. Nor had he treated the guests with the same friendly courtesy since their confrontation a few days before. The early-morning sunlight poured golden beams through the living-room window. "David's going to kill himself with those cigarettes," he muttered, scowling. "He sure is." Ryan nodded agreement. “And I agree. For the last two days, I’ve sensed that David’s not so happy to have us here as he was in the beginning. Guess our attempts to persuade him not to help Puccini set up the murder didn’t sit too well with him.” He smiled wryly. “He knows we’re in complete sympathy with his sister. And he doesn’t like it one bit.” “Neither does he like it that we don’t approve of what he’s helping Puccini to get ready to do,” Kristen added. Rachel screwed her face. “But where will we go?” She cradled her teen study Bible in her lap. She’d been reading it when her mother called her into the living room a few minutes before. She pressed the palm of her left hand against the soft cushion underneath; it sank beneath her hand’s pressure. Christina touched her arm. “We’ll just have to go to a hotel, sweetheart. For now, anyway.” “And after that, we’re going to have to make more permanent arrangements,” Richard added. “I have a feeling we won’t be going back to New York anytime soon.” Ryan sighed. “No, and neither will my family be returning to Rome. The day we left for Israel, I took the liberty of purchasing some gold from a friend of mine before Puccini had a chance to freeze our account. I dared not spend all of our bank account on gold, lest he become suspicious.” “Wise move, Ryan.” Richard glanced at his wife, then back at Ryan. “Our bank accounts won’t do us much good for long, anyway. Our gold may not, either. Once the mark is set up, we’re going to be forced to trust the Lord just for survival.” He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head. “Where will we go?” Rachel asked again, scratching her forehead. She dug the toes of her slippers into the thick tufts of carpet underneath. Ryan leaned back in the armchair. “I suggest we find out where Deborah is staying, and go there.” He smiled. “She’d love to have us for moral support, I’m sure.” Christina chuckled. “That won’t be hard, Ryan. Tess told me, the other day, where she was staying.” She paused. “In fact, she suggested that we might want to consider staying there, too.” Richard rose to his feet. “Come on, then. Let’s pack our things and go there. I’ll leave a note for David.” _______________________________________________________ “Spread the map over my desk, David.” Elijah opened the drapes covering the office window. Nodding David unrolled the map of the Wailing Wall and spread it over his employer’s mahogany desk. For five minutes, the two men peered over it silently. “Look at this spot.” David pointed to a corner of the Wailing Wall. “The preachers usually do their preaching over here, with their backs toward that side of the wall.” He glanced at Dayan, who nodded. “If a sniper were to hide on that corner of the roof, he could easily take care of the two men with a high-powered rifle.” Elijah nodded. “Then let’s do it! Today.” He patted David’s arm. “I’ll take over from here; you’ve done your job. Thank you, and shalom.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and drew out a cigarette. "For your trouble." He handed the cigarette to David. David beamed his thanks, then nodded. “Shall I leave you the map?” Dayan nodded. As David left Dayan’s office, satisfaction surged in his heart. This will be a day always remembered, he thought, smiling. The world will be rid of those two men, at last! Unknown to him, an invisible Tess watched him go, disapproval etched on her face. Raising her face toward the ceiling, she shook her head. Meanwhile, back at the hotel Tess ran, Deborah knelt by her bed, praying. She hadn’t been able to stop worrying, despite her best efforts to turn the whole matter over to the Lord. She had recently heard that her brother was helping his employer, Dayan, make plans for the murder of Moishe and Eli; he might be helping Dayan this very day. That could only get him killed if he took part, she feared. She hated feeling so helpless to save him, to reach him, to do anything except pray. Rising to her feet, she wiped her face, then approached the wall. Taking a deep breath, she laid trembling hands on the smooth, cool surface of her mahogany nightstand, and lowered her head. “Please, God,” she said, “don’t let my brother do this! Don’t let David take part in this wicked plot. Please get through to him. He’s deceived, Jehovah—he doesn’t know who Your Son is. Please open his heart. In Yeshua’s name, amen.” “He will, Deborah.” END OF CHAPTER 5



kgreen20	Dec 11 2007, 08:01 PM Post #8
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 6 Deborah turned to find Andrew standing beside the bed. “Hello, Andrew.” She forced a smile on her face. “Shalom.” “And shalom to you.” Andrew approached her. “God sees the concern and fear in your heart, and He wants you to remember that it’s all in His hands. He’s working on your brother, even as I speak.” A grateful smile crept across Deborah’s face. “Then this murder plot won’t succeed?” Deep sadness welled up in Andrew’s eyes. Inserting his hands into his pockets, he sighed. “I’m afraid it will, this time, Deborah,” he said, slowly. “Their time is up, today. Puccini is here—he just arrived this morning. Your brother has already helped his boss, Dayan, make their plans. Puccini is going to kill them.” “No!” Deborah screamed. “Please, God, no!” Shock surged through her heart. She had to stop her brother! She couldn’t allow the two witnesses to be murdered. Grabbing her purse, she rushed out the door; it slammed behind her. She took the stairs two at a time, then darted out the front door of the hotel. “I’ve got to stop him! I can’t let him do this!” She choked back a sob. “Please, God,” she shrieked, “stop my brother from helping Puccini kill them!” A distant gunshot startled her. “No!” she screamed. “Please, no! Don’t let them die!” Meanwhile, at the Wailing Wall, the two witnesses lay on the cold stone tiles, gasping for breath. Blood gushed out of their sides, forming spreading pools. Puccini watched from the far corner on the roof of the Wailing Wall, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Tell your man I thank him, for the help he gave us,” he told Dayan. “This was indeed an excellent spot for an ambush.” Dayan nodded, a pleased gleam in his own eyes. “I will, Excellency.” He glanced at the wisps of clouds drifting overhead, then climbed down the ladder. Puccini followed him. The two climbed into a limousine and left the Wailing Wall. As the two dying witnesses lay writhing, two pools of blood spreading from their sides, Andrew and Adam appeared next to them. Beams of Heavenly light illuminated and poured off the two angels of death’s beige suits. “Hello, Moses.” Andrew knelt at Moishe’s side. “God has sent me here to take you Home.” He rested his hands on the cold stone tiles as he spoke. “And I’m taking you Home, Elijah.” Adam touched Eli’s bony shoulder. “The Father tells us He’s quite proud of you. Of both of you. You have carried out your assignments well.” Andrew nodded agreement. Too weak to speak, Moses nodded his thanks. In the next moment, he found himself next to a now-standing Andrew, gazing down at his now-lifeless body and waiting for Eli to join him. A few seconds later, Elijah’s own spirit left his body and joined Moses. Adam flanked him. “Come on.” Andrew gestured skyward. “You bodies will be restored to you in three-and-a-half days, but for now, the Father wishes to reward you gentlemen for a job well-done.” Followed by a snow-white dove, circling overhead and cooing softly, the two angels strolled down the pavement with the spirits of the two witnesses until all four disappeared from sight. At the same time, Tess, Monica, and Gloria stood in a nearby alley. Worried frowns creased their foreheads. “We must stop Deborah,” Monica said. “If she shows up at the Wailing Wall now, Puccini and Dayan will target her.” She scratched her arm. “No, they won’t. Puccini and Dayan left a few minutes ago. But their henchmen are still on the scene, and they will recognize Deborah.” Tess glanced toward a group of men gathered next to the Wailing Wall. “You go find her, Miss Wings.” Tess turned to Gloria. “And baby, you stay with me.” A few seconds later, Monica found Deborah on a back street fifty feet from the Wailing Wall. Her breath came in gasps and her shoes clicked on the pavement. Deborah stopped just short of colliding with the angel. “It’s too late, Deborah!” Monica grabbed the frantic young woman’s shoulder. “It’s too late to stop them now. Moishe and Eli are dead.” Deborah gaped at her, grief surging in her heart. She clutched the purse to her waist with one hand and wiped her sweaty face with the other. “Who—who are you?” “An angel. Sent by God.” Monica smiled at her, tenderness etched on her face. “Be not afraid.” “Like—like Andrew?” Deborah stared at her. Monica nodded. Deborah leaned against the brick wall, trying to catch her breath. A low moan escaped from her throat. “What has my brother done?!” She shook her head, gazing down at the pavement. Her breaths came out more slowly and evenly. Monica embraced her, then stepped back. “Nothing that God cannot forgive him for, even now. But he must seek God’s mercy and His forgiveness.” She touched Deborah’s shoulder. “Come, let’s go back to the hotel where you’re staying.” Monica walked her back to the hotel, where they found the Dalys and the Whittakers in the lobby. Richard, she noticed, was using his debit card to pay for the rooms they would stay in for the rest of their Israeli visit. “You must be Deborah Weizmann.” Christina approached her. “My name is Christina Daly. Ryan told us about you.” She slumped her shoulders. “You’ve heard?” Deborah bit her lower lip. “Yes,” she said. “They’ve killed Moishe and Eli.” Christina nodded, sighing. Ryan approached her, his shoes making soft thuds on the thick carpet. “Why don’t you call your brother, Deborah? He hasn’t heard from you in days; he might be relieved to know you’re safe.” Deborah shook her head. “Not now. Not yet. He doesn’t want to hear from me, and besides, it wouldn’t be safe to call him now.” She sighed. “I’ll wait till it is safe.” She choked down a sob. Tess jangled a ring of keys in her right hand. “Come with me, and I’ll take you to your rooms. I’m having tea and pastries sent to your rooms.” She turned to Deborah. “Your room is next to the Whittakers. And Richard, yours is on the other side of Ryan’s and Kristen’s.” She paused, frowning. "Richard, you won't be able to use that debit card much longer. Soon, an implant will be required instead. So use that card to purchase some gold, as Ryan has done. I know someone here in Israel who will be glad to sell you some." Richard exchanged glances with his wife, then nodded acquiescence. "I will, Tess." Ryan and Kristen exchanged chuckles, covering their mouths so as to not let Tess hear. “She’s certainly efficient and hospitable. And no-nonsense,” Ryan whispered. Kristen nodded agreement. Grief surged in Ryan’s heart in the next moment. How he missed the witnesses! END OF CHAPTER 6



kgreen20	Dec 12 2007, 11:30 AM Post #9
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 7 For the next three days, the Dalys, the Whittakers, and Deborah stayed in their hotel rooms. They discussed incessantly their experiences with Moishe and Eli. Richard and Ryan took turns sharing their first time seeing the two lampstands in person, shortly after the marriage of Ryan and Kristen. Deborah spoke of the numerous times she had visited the witnesses at the Wailing Wall, and the days when they’d begun to counsel her about her brother. “Yes, it was dangerous to make those midnight visits,” she admitted. “But it was the only time of day I could talk with them in private. There was always a crowd in front of them during the day.” She rubbed her eyes, then glanced down at her Bible resting on the dresser next to Christina’s and Rachel’s. As she shifted position on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagged and creaked beneath her. Christina nodded. “Yes. And some did heed their message and turn to Jesus for salvation.” She sighed. “But—the vast majority…” She shook her head. Part of the time, they watched CNN, but had no stomach for it. All over the world, they knew, the networks were running wall-to-wall coverage of the witnesses’ deaths. Thus far, Puccini was refusing to allow their burial, so their bodies lay decomposing on the blood-stained, stone-covered spot where they had been shot. CNN and the other news networks showed their bodies worldwide over and over. Commentators were droning on and on about the misery Moishe and Eli had brought to the world, and to Israel in particular. One anchorman said, “It is the winter holidays all over again, as people hold parties and exchange presents. Only yesterday, Elijah Dayan and his relatives exchanged an abundance of gifts. And all over the world, people are holding similar celebrations.” Glee rang from his voice; a pleased expression etched his face. Richard curled his upper lip in disgust. “Well, Revelation predicted this would happen,” he muttered. “This is nothing to celebrate! Why can’t the blind fools realize that?” He leaned his elbow on the window ledge, as he glanced out at the crowds on the street below. Andrew, who had stopped to visit, nodded agreement. “They are blind.” He shook his head, then smiled. “Don’t despair, though. The Book of Revelation also predicts their resurrection.” He put his hand on Richard’s arm. Richard nodded in return. “Yes. It does.” Rachel glared at the TV set. “I wish Mr. Puccini would let them be buried! It’s mean, leaving them out like that.” Kristen shook her head, cradling Nicole in her arms. Jeremy perched at her feet, playing with a wooden block. “I agree, Rachel.” She shook her head. “The wickedness of so many people.” She sighed. Ryan patted her arm as he pursed his lower lip. On the late afternoon of the third day, Richard rose to his feet following a lengthy prayer session. He and the others had knelt for the past hour on the thick carpet spanning the room. “Any time now, the witnesses should be resurrected,” he announced. “I don’t know about you, but I want to be there to see it.” He glanced at his watch as he spoke. Christina leaped to her feet. “So do I!” “Me, too.” Rachel stood up. The others followed suit; Ryan and Kristen picked up the babies. “Let’s go, then!” Ryan urged. “We’ll take the kids with us.” He turned to Deborah. “Would you like to come with us?” Deborah smiled, then shook her head. “Not yet. You go on ahead.” She rubbed her face. “I’ll come later.” “Don’t wait too long,” Ryan warned. “We don’t know just when God plans to resurrect Moishe and Eli.” Christina slid her watch onto her wrist, then grabbed her purse and handed Rachel hers. Hurrying out the hotel’s front entrance, the two families hurried down one street, then another, not wanting to miss that event. Rachel trailed behind her mother, looking at the stores that lined each side. I wonder... she thought. She paused as they passed a gift shop. Pressing her nose against the windowpane, she gazed at the rows of trinkets on their display shelves. When she turned around to catch up to the others, to her horror, they had disappeared! She looked up and down the street for her parents as panic surged in her breast. They went off without me! she thought. She took a deep breath to calm herself. It’s OK. I know where they’re going. I’ll stop here and look around a little, then I’ll catch up. Maybe I’ll buy something! She glanced down at her purse. Pushing the glass door open, she entered the store. A bell tinkled above her. Soft Israeli folk music played in the background as she approached the nearest row of shelves. A black-haired woman stood with her back to the girl as Rachel admired a gold jewelry box. Suddenly, the woman turned around; Rachel hopped back, startled. “Miss Weizmann! I thought you stayed behind.” “I did.” Deborah sighed. “Then I decided I really didn’t want to stay alone in my hotel room, so I decided to leave. I’m on my way to the Wailing Wall, too, but I decided to stop on the way to get a present for my brother.” She sighed. “Maybe a gift will soften his heart. It will be his birthday soon.” She looked at the gleaming china statuettes lining the shelf next to her. "Tess has loaned me some gold--I'm hoping the manager of this store can be persuaded to accept some, since I don't have a bank account. I didn't have the chance to borrow any from David before he threw me out." Rachel bit her lower lip. “It must be awful, having him mad at you like that.” She reached up to her cheek. Sadness creased the woman’s forehead. “It is, Rachel,” she agreed. “It hurts more deeply than anything I can imagine, unless it’s hearing that he had a part in Moishe and Eli’s murder. I can only trust, as the angels have said, that God is working on his heart and that He has everything under control. As Andrew said, their murder was foretold.” Rachel nodded. What Deborah had just said was true. “I’m going to look around.” “Where are your parents?” Deborah pivoted to scan the store. “They didn’t come in with you, I see.” “I—uh, we got separated.” Rachel’s voice faltered. “I stopped to look in the window, and they went on. I know where they’re going, though—I can catch up. I’ll join them at the Wailing Wall.” Deborah nodded. “Don’t keep them waiting too long. Give me a few moments to find something for my brother, then we’ll go to the Wailing Wall together.” Nodding acquiescence, Rachel wandered toward the back to examine the displays there. A counter ran the length of the back of the store, stopping just short of the back door. Fifteen feet from the back, a partition ran along half the building, partly dividing the back from the front area. Rachel smiled at the rows of collectors’ dolls wearing traditional Israeli costumes. They are so pretty! I wonder if Mom would buy me one? She glanced down at her purse as she spoke. Wish I had the money to buy one! Unfortunately, my bank account is low, so I can't. They are so pretty. They’d look so nice on my dresser! Recent painful memories arose in her head, and she sighed. For the last few days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the witnesses. She missed them so much—their authoritative voices as they preached, their bony hands, the smoky smell that always hung around them. It was so hard to believe that they were dead. It wasn’t fair! She grimaced. Meanwhile, her parents and her aunt and uncle, who had yet to notice her disappearance, arrived at the spot where the witnesses lay dead. Their faces were discolored, their bodies misshapen. Christina choked back tears as she gazed down at their mangled, decaying bodies. The blood had long since dried on the stone tiles. Each person held his nose to keep out the overpowering scent of decay. “The poor men!” Christina whispered. “Why did Puccini have to do this to them, anyway?” “Shh!” Richard’s breath caught. “Look, Christina!” He gaped down at the bodies; following his gaze, Christina did the same. In that moment, Moses took a deep breath; Elijah did the same. The latter blinked, then opened his eyes. A few seconds later, Moses followed suit. Silence descended on the assembled crowd as the onlookers gaped in shock. The Dalys and Whittakers released their noses, dropping their arms to their sides. The two witnesses raised their hands, then pulled themselves into sitting positions. Slowly, they rose to their bare feet. They gazed at the crowd with a mixture of anger and sadness, then at the Dalys and Whittakers with approval in their eyes. “Bah!” little Jeremy shouted, waving both hands. Moishe raised his bony hand toward the two-year-old boy. Once more, the scent of ashes wafted toward Christina’s nose. A thunderous shout prompted Christina to cover her ears. “Come up here!” an unearthly voice shouted. In the next instant, Moishe and Eli rose into the air. Cries of horror burst forth from the mouths of the onlookers. David, hiding behind a corner of the wall, gaped in horror. His prayer shawl adorned his shoulders; he had gone to the Wailing Wall to pray an hour earlier. “No!” he whispered. “It can’t be!” His body quivered, as the warnings of Christina and Ryan surged into his brain. “It can’t be true! It cannot!” Meanwhile, back at the gift store, Deborah and Rachel, who had just heard the shout, rushed outside with the other shoppers and the store employees. While they gazed upward, the two witnesses became smaller as they rose yet higher, until they were mere specks. A few seconds later, they disappeared from view. Deborah beamed, craning her neck to watch them go. Rachel stood on tiptoe to get a better look. The plump Israeli woman and the young American teenager cheered as they rushed inside. “Thank You, God!” Deborah whispered in a choked voice; the two embraced each other. “You predicted You’d raise them back to life, and You have!” “Amen!” Rachel said. Deborah glanced at her watch. “I must hurry—I still want to buy a gift for my brother.” She grimaced. "I hope the cashier and manager come back in soon, so I can make my purchase and leave!" She glared at the cash register, standing unattended on its counter. So far, no one else had re-entered the gift shop. “I’ll go to the back and look around.” Rachel smiled. “They have some real pretty collector’s dolls back there!” “I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Deborah told her. “We must hurry if we’re to rejoin the others.” Rachel departed for the back of the store; Deborah returned to the row of shelves featuring the statuettes. For the next few minutes, she ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces of several figurines. Suddenly, the floor began to shake beneath her; objects slid off their shelves. “Oh!” she cried. “There’s something else the Book of Revelation predicted—an earthquake! How could I have forgotten about that?!” Screaming, she rushed toward the front entrance; in that instant, the ceiling caved in on her. Meanwhile, in the back of the store, Rachel stumbled toward the counter and huddled underneath. Minutes passed as the building crashed behind her; distant terrified screams reached her ears from the streets. She covered her head with both arms. Miss Weizmann! she thought. Please, God, don’t let her get hurt! Unknown to her, Andrew stood, holding the counter up to keep it from collapsing on Rachel. “Don’t be frightened, Rachel,” he said softly. “God is with you, and He will take good care of you. Deborah, too.” Rachel couldn’t hear the angel’s voice, but an unexpected calm flowed through her heart. Is this what Jesus meant when He said, “My peace I give you, not as the world gives”? she silently wondered. Even when things are scary like this? She banged her head against the top of the counter; pain exploded in her head. “Ow!” she cried, clutching her scalp. The violent shaking went on and on. How much longer? she silently screamed. Please, God, make it stop! Trembling, the young girl remained crouched under the counter and scrooged her eyes shut. In that instant, the lights went out. Darkness enveloped the store. END OF CHAPTER 7



kgreen20	Dec 12 2007, 11:36 AM Post #10
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 8 “Noo!!!” David rushed into the middle of the heaving, buckling street; as the earthquake knocked him off his feet, he threw himself into a prone position, covering his head. God of my fathers, he silently prayed, save me! Don’t let this earthquake kill me! He pulled his prayer shawl over the back of his head, then pressed his arms over it. Meanwhile, Richard stumbled as he clasped his wife to his chest, striving to brace her. They had already left the Wailing Wall and started down a nearby street when the shaking started. Ryan and Kristen leaned against each other, each holding a baby. “God,” Ryan muttered through clenched teeth, “if this is our time, enable us to face death with courage! But if You still have work for us to do, please keep us alive through this!” “Amen,” Kristen added, gritting her teeth. In that instant, the earthquake knocked them off their feet; Ryan and Kristen twisted their bodies to land on their backs. Neither one let go of the baby in his or her arms. The hard concrete sent shockwaves through their bodies as they landed on it. All around them, buildings crashed, toppled over; cracks formed in the street, followed by slabs of concrete facing upward. Water spewed several feet into the air where fire hydrants fell on their sides. Up and down the street, terrified screams echoed in their ears. A few minutes later, the violent shaking stopped. The screams halted, but Jeremy and Nicole wailed. Ryan and Kristen proceeded to soothe them. “Let’s not move yet,” Richard ordered. “This quake is over, but there may be aftershocks. Let’s stay right here till we know it’s safe.” Raising his head, he shook it, then lay his arms at his sides. “Look at all this rubble! And it’s so hot, too.” He wiped his perspiring forehead with the back of his hand. “There will be many people trapped inside the rubble; some of them will die before help can reach them. And thousands who have already died.” He looked at the rows of demolished buildings lining both sides of the street. “Yes.” Ryan nodded agreement. “There will be a total of seven thousand casualties, to be exact. And a tenth of the city destroyed.” He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand. “No telling how many who’ve been injured. Or trapped.” Christina gasped. She pushed herself up on her elbows to stare at everyone. As she looked from person to person, a moan escaped from her throat, then she pulled herself up to her knees. “Rachel!” she cried. “Where is Rachel?” Pushing themselves into sitting positions, the others looked up and down the street. “She’s gone,” Kristen said. “She must have gotten separated from us while we were coming here.” “Rachel!” Christina screamed. ‘Where are you?!” She was frantic. Rachel might have been killed in the earthquake! Or she might be trapped somewhere, seriously injured. Without a word, Christina leaped to her feet and stumbled down the torn-up street, picking her way over some rubble, brushing her hair out of her eyes, wiping beads of sweat off her forehead, pivoting this way and that. “Rachel!” A hand gripped her shoulder, then spun her around. Richard’s worried eyes gazed into hers as he clutched her arms. “Christina! We’ve got to stay together! We will find Rachel, never fear, but we must not split up. Remember, those were Monica’s orders.” Before Christina, gasping for breath, could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Silently, she prayed that God would help them find their daughter and that she would be all right. Please, God, don’t let her die! “Come on.” Richard gestured to the others as they approached. “Let’s go. Don’t worry, honey, we’ll find her!” Meanwhile, back at the demolished store, Rachel, clutching her now-bruised arm, slowly crept out from under the counter, wincing as she crawled on pieces of shattered linoleum tiles. The shaking had stopped only a few minutes before. As she scrambled to her feet, she scanned the store, clutching her purse to her side. For a long moment, she stood stock-still, trying to get her bearings. The earthquake had knocked out the electricity; she could see only the barest of outlines. Slowly, she approached the front, only to find herself blocked by a wall of debris. The partition that had divided the back of the store from the front had tumbled; the whole ceiling had fallen right behind it. Rachel just managed to see the outlines of the pieces of debris blocking her from the front entrance. “The back’s blocked, too,” she muttered. Rachel was trapped. She could not leave the store. A gasp escaped from her mouth as she remembered. “Miss Weizmann!” she yelled. “Are you here?” No answer. “Miss Weizmann?” she shrieked. “It’s Rachel—Rachel Daly! Can you hear me?” Still no answer. Sobbing, Rachel dropped her purse and stumbled toward the wood-and-plaster debris blocking her from the entrance. She tried to tear a hole through it that she’d be able to crawl through. After several minutes of futile effort, she slid to the floor, moaning. She winced as pieces of tile dug through her jeans and pressed into her hips. “I can’t get to her,” she said. “I can’t get out, myself!” Rachel had never felt so helpless in her life, not since she had returned to her original home to find her real mother murdered. Not only could she not dig her way out of the rubble of this store, to save herself, neither could she do anything to help Deborah Weizmann. She couldn’t even give the woman first-aid. She hated that. “Miss Weizmann may be dying, and I can’t even help her!” Rachel choked back a sob. “I can’t help myself, either. I might die here, too!” Unwanted, unbidden sobs tore out of her throat. She rested her face on her knees and cried. “Please, God, help us!” she said, her voice choking. “Please don’t let us die!” She bent over, heaving with sobs. Back in the vicinity of the Wailing Wall, her frantic parents and the Whittakers carefully picked their way through the rubble of the street. Suddenly, a man yelled, “Ryan! Stop!" The group halted, then whirled around. A disheveled David Weizmann was carefully making his way through the concrete rubble, panting, his prayer shawl askew, beads of sweat rolling down his face. When he caught up, his breath came out in gasps. “I just—barely—escaped death,” he panted. “And now, I must—find my sister! She’s out in this somewhere.” He shook his head violently. “What have I done, throwing her out? She could be dead now, and I’d never know!” Taking a deep breath, Richard touched his arm. “Our Rachel’s missing, too.” He bit his lower lip and he and his wife exchanged glances. “We’ll just have to look for them both.” The others nodded agreement. Ryan approached David. “Before we look, though, let’s pray together,” he said gently. “We’ll need God’s help to find them, since only He knows where they are.” He looked from David to Richard. David nodded agreement. ‘You’re right. All we can do is follow His leading.” He straightened his prayer shawl as he spoke. As the group bowed their heads, Ryan prayed that God would protect Rachel and Deborah, and that He would lead them to the two. They proceeded to mince down the broken street, carefully stepping over or around concrete shards. Moans reached their ears from all over; stunned, shell-shocked people trudged everywhere. Ryan and Kristen cradled the babies against their shoulders, arms wrapped around them protectively. Christina’s soft leather purse hung from her left shoulder. David sighed as he trotted next to Ryan. “Please, God, protect my sister,” he implored, gazing up at the sky. Unknown to him, two angels watched them leave. “I wish we could give him good news,” Andrew said, sadness in his eyes. “But the Father has already told me I’ll soon be taking Deborah Home.” Tess nodded agreement. Her brooch sparkled in the sunlight. “It may be a different story for Rachel, though. God is going to send Monica to comfort Rachel, as she waits. She’s feeling quite helpless because she can neither escape, herself, nor help Deborah. And she’s frightened.” She raised her head. “Please, Father, help those two!” END OF CHAPTER 8



kgreen20	Dec 13 2007, 12:22 AM Post #11
Advanced Member Posts: 1,545 Group: Members Member #96 Joined: January 7, 2006	CHAPTER 9 As the tourists and the Israeli approached a corner, an imperious voice startled them. “David! Stop!” Again, the group halted. A brown-haired man wearing a dark-blue suit approached them from across the street. “I know that man,” David said, pursing his lips. “He works for Dayan, too. He works as Dayan’s second-in-command.” Sighing, he rubbed his forehead. “If I know him...” The other man reached them. “Weizmann, Elijah Dayan wants you,” he ordered. “He has something he wants you to do for him. Immediately.” As irritation etched his face, David shook his head. “Can’t Dayan get someone else?” He glared at the other man. “I have to find my sister!” He looked from one side of the street to the other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Tiny concrete shards crumbled under the toes of his shoes. “She’s somewhere in this rubble—I have to find her!” The man shook his head. “That may take days, and what Elijah wants us to do cannot wait. Elijah wants you now!” David pressed his lips into a thin line. Christina glared at the man as a smoldering rage welled up within her. She couldn’t believe the gall of this man, or of Elijah Dayan himself. Here they were, searching for missing relatives, and Dayan wanted David to break off the search and see him right then! She clenched her hands into fists. Richard grasped David’s shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I understand, believe me—we all do! Especially Christina and me, because our daughter’s missing, too. You have our promise that we will do everything in our power to find Deborah. And when we do, we’ll send you word.” David nodded, a wan smile on her face. “Thank you. I know you will.” As he trudged across the broken street and around the corner with the man, shoulders slumped, Ryan patted his sister’s arm, then pulled his handkerchief out of his jeans pocket. “Don’t forget, Brownie, Elijah’s the False Prophet.” He sighed, then wiped beads of sweat off his face with his handkerchief. “That means the spirit of Christianity is completely foreign to him as well as to Puccini. He will not be concerned about the missing relatives of his own employees.” Folding his handkerchief, he stuffed it back into his jeans pocket. Christina nodded. “I know you’re right, but you’d think even Dayan would have more compassion than this. After all, David’s own sister is missing, too!” She reached up to twist a strand of hair around her index finger. Richard nodded agreement. “We’ll just have to do our best to find them both.” He hurried down the street, with the others following. “I just hope we can retrace our steps in this rubble!” _______________________________________________________ “Miss Weizmann!” A pause. “Miss Weizmann! It’s Rachel! Can you hear me?” Rachel’s faint voice reached Deborah’s ears. The woman lay helpless on her side, buried by chunks of debris. Linoleum shards dug into her side, making her wince. Only her upper body lay uncovered. She could see only bare outlines of objects around her. Thick darkness otherwise blanketed the store. “Rachel,” she croaked. “I—can’t—shout. Don’t know if—you—can—hear—me.” “Miss Weizmann? Can you hear me?” Raising her head, Deborah silently prayed, Please, God, let me voice be strong for her! Please, God, let my voice reach her ears. Out loud, she called, “I hear you—Rachel! Yes, I hear you.” To her relief, her voice felt and sounded stronger. “I’m so glad!” A pause. “Miss Weizmann—I’ve been praying and praying. That someone’ll find us.” Rallying again, Deborah answered, “You keep doing that, Rachel. Unfortunately, I’m not going to live long enough to be rescued.” She swallowed hard. “I’m—I’m hurt. Badly. Fatally, I fear.” She laid her head back on her arm. A Heavenly beam of light illuminated the ruins of the store; a second later, a familiar figure appeared in front of her. “Andrew!” Deborah gasped, turning her head upward to face him. “Yes. It’s me,” Andrew knelt at Deborah’s side. “God has sent me here, Deborah.” Deborah gazed into his eyes. “You—you’re the angel of death.” “Yes.” Andrew touched her shoulder, then rested both hands on the broken tiles. “I am. God has sent me to take you Home.” Deborah tried to smile, but succeeded only in forming a grimace. She winced. “You don’t look at all as I thought an angel of death would—do you?” she croaked, her voice faint. “You—you have the most gentle eyes I’ve seen in anybody.” Andrew chuckled. “The world has given the angel of death a most fearsome reputation, but really, that’s not the way we are at all.” A smile crept across his face. “God wants you to know that He’s proud of you—for your walk with Him, and for the way you stood firm even when your brother persecuted you and threw you out. He also wants you to know that your prayers for David have not been in vain.” Deborah nodded, a faint smile crossing her face. “What about the others? What—?” She looked toward the debris blocking the back of the store from view. “What about Rachel? She’s trapped back there.” Andrew nodded, his eyes sad. “God has his hand on her, Deborah, and on the others, too. The others are unharmed, I’m pleased to report. And He will stay with Rachel through her ordeal.” Deborah nodded, then winced as a spasm of pain shot through her abdomen. He touched her shoulder again. “It’s time to go.” Before Deborah had a chance to respond, she found herself standing at Andrew’s side. Her lifeless, crushed body lay huddled at her feet. Putting his arm around her shoulders, Andrew took her to Heaven. END OF CHAPTER 9



kgreen20	Dec 13 2007, 12:30 AM Post #12
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