Desperado Dale (Scenic Route to Paradise) (13 page)

Please don’t forget to bring the
supplies I asked for... Now, eighteen children! Most under the age of 14 and
they have lots of needs.

Tina?

It’s been three days since I’ve heard
from you. Que pasa? Was it my breath? Lol…

Sorry about the stuff, but Mac says
we’re not stopping before “the backdoor.” You know what that means, I suppose.

There is a meteor shower tonight. Look
to the east and you will see a wonderful sight just after sunset.

Chapter 21  Roadside Dance

Much of the coastal road was travel worthy, Dale
found. There were shallow sand drifts continuously but these mini dunes didn’t
hinder the truck. When Sam sat down behind the wheel, he sported a pair of
spectacles that were missing the left lens. Sam’s driving glasses couldn’t be
repaired because the lens had to be ordered from
Italy
or
France
. He told Dale that if he made a trip to
Athens
, he might get a new
pair but his lens prescription wouldn’t be correct. Sam started up the engine
and that is when Dale told him, “I’ll drive.”

Sam switched places with Dale and immediately
fell asleep; his head resting against the closed passenger window. Bethania
rode in the middle of the bench seat.

Dale found out much about Bethania’s life as she
was a ready conversationalist. Before changing the subject, she detailed her
fears for the Jews because of the steady swell of prejudice and violence
against them.

“I don’t see it abating anytime soon. I’m
fearful for my people. I saw what happen when I was a child and I understand
how hateful… murderous and evil people can be. No, no! Don’t get me wrong. I do
not fear for myself. It’s those babies in the back of the truck and even Samuel
here. He is so young but me? I’m old. I have had wealth, health and notoriety.
I’ve lived and now, I can die,” she said. Her words, heavily accented were
genuine. Dale was convinced she spoke from her heart.

The truck hummed. He was quiet. He had much to
say. There was a weight on his own heart that he recognized. Repeatedly since
he was a boy, Dale would feel this touch at precarious times. Dale called it
the finger of God; a gentle pressure urging Dale forward in faith. He sensed
now
was time to declare God’s plan of salvation.

The enemy’s arguments began assaulting Dale’s
logical reasoning before he could formulate a reply to Bethania. The debate
sounded like a normal inner argument but in actuality an outside source was
interjecting commentary.

Bethania is a Jew! Did we forget that? How
offensive can I be?

Jesus was a Jew… They have something in common.

Very funny. She is also opinionated and why not,
she has lived three times as long as me. She knows the Old Testament better
than I do.

True, but since you, Devil are putting up a argument…
I must be getting ready to do something right. So, shut up!

Dale began without further ado. “You say you’re
ready to die but are you really, Bethania?” Dale realized that his opening
salvo was slightly strong. “I mean, the last few days I hear you mention God
and the God of Abraham and even the 10 Commandments but knowing about eternity
is not the same thing as being ready for eternity.”

Bethania tightened the paisley scarf under her
chin. A week ago, she would have put forth a furious defense but now she said
simply, “Go on.”

Dale glanced to his right. Bethania seemed so
fragile but he had seen her in action, working, speaking, teaching, cooking and
milking the goat; he knew different. She was tough and she was ready to hear
the good news. So Dale began with the Jewish writings found in the Old Testament
and worked his way to the Jewish writings found in Romans chapter 11. He
explained later,
After all, Apostle Paul the author was a Jew.

The rain clouds had finished their work, passing
over the island toward the mainland. The pavement and sandy terrain were steamy
from the morning sun.

Dale saw the rusted sign for the inland road
that went north through the mountains. He would wake Sam in a few minutes but
first, he needed to finish the discussion he was having with Bethania.

Dale said, “Let me put it another way. The
Jewish laws were our teacher and guide until the messiah came to give us right
standing with God through our faith. But now that messiah has actually been
here, we don't need those laws any longer to guard us and lead us to him. Those
laws that were once inscribed in stone are now written by the Spirit of the
living God on the hearts of those who believe that Jesus is messiah… He came
and died and rose from the dead. Like the lambs of old, he paid with blood –
His own.”

The picture of the leather covered rock came to Bethania’s
mind. She had never been open to the idea that the renegade Jewish Jesus was
Messiah. Unemotionally, she had studied Christianity and
Him
but history
and her own personal interactions with Christians had been an insurmountable
obstacle in taking Jesus or His followers seriously. There had always been
exceptions like old Mayor Karrar and the bishop of Zakynthos – both professing
Christians.

What were two among so many? The Nazi’s attended
church most Sundays
, she remembered.

The stone wrapped in leather… Her God, the
Jewish God, the God of all had wrapped the first disobedient couple in leather
skins; to cover them, animals had to die. Later, animals continued to die to
cover the sins of the Jews and yet, it was not a permanent fix. Every year the
bloodletting had to be performed because the words on the stone, those
commandments were transgressed.

If the Law could be kept, I could have eternal
life... but I cannot keep it. No one can but one good Person. Why call me good?
He had asked me in my dream! Only God is good!

Bloodshed was the remedy. Messiah was the
ransom. Like a tumbler lock spinning and each cylinder clicking into place,
Bethania was humbled and astonished as answers to her questions clicked to find
a place in her mind. The rotating tumblers slowed and stopped. Bethania knew
that she knew - Jesus was Messiah!

The Greek transliteration came forth from her
lips. “Joshua Messiah! Joshua Messiah? Joshua Messiah!” And then she said in
Hebrew, “Yeshua HaMashiach!”

“Stop! Stop, I must get out.” Bethania demanded.

Sam bolted upright. He pulled his one lens
glasses down from his forehead as he jerked about looking for the trouble. He
saw two bikes at least a kilometer up the road pedaling towards them but there
were no other vehicles to be seen, only sandy beach on the left and sand and
shrubs on the right. An island mountain range climbed before them but there was
no danger that he could perceive.

Dale pulled as far as he dared onto the shoulder
buried in sand. Not waiting for the sluggish Samuel to open his door, Bethania
followed Dale out the driver’s side. She hopped from the cab and would have
fallen into the street if Dale hadn’t caught her. Bethania pushed him away without
a thanks and began skipping about the road. A soulful Jewish melody came from
her lips.

Like Miriam of the Old Testament, Bethania only
needed a tambourine.

When Sam came around from the other side the old
woman rushed to him and began pulling him about to dance with her. She was
singing in Greek, all the while. Hesitant at first, Sam already knowing the
eccentricities of Bethania began the mitzvah tanz or wedding dance with her.

Dale remembering the children crouching under
the tarp, let them out. This interruption would have a practical purpose too.
They could have a potty stop. Bethania called to the girls and pulled Sam to
them. The four began a circle dance while Dale stood watching.

What have I done
? He wondered with a
chuckle. Bethania seeing him grinning grabbed him into the group as the swirling
foursome came close. At another time and in another place, the children would
have been painfully embarrassed by such behavior but now… It was an amusing
distraction from their recent grim existence.

Dale and Sam eyed each other. Dale smiling but
Sam baffled. After another minute or more, Bethania succumbed to exhaustion and
maneuvered her way to the truck cab step. She let go of the girls’ hands to sit
abruptly as she let out the final words of her fantastic hymn. The children
were smiling and wondering. Sam shook his head and wandered off to the scrub
oak to relieve himself. Two men with fishing poles riding bicycles came abreast
of them and waved without stopping. The girls waved back.

Her chest heaving, Bethania pulled some tissue
paper from her bosom. Giving it to the children, she directed them to the trees
and bushes.

Sam had returned and with hands on hips he said,
“Yiayia, you are fit as a fiddle today. I’m glad to see your hip is not
bothering you. When I awoke at your yell, I thought we were being chased by New
Dawn gangsters!”

She laughed and said, “My hip?
Ne
, yes
its better! Sam, there is good news! Were you listening? Did you sense *‘ruach
ha-kodesh?’”

* Hebrew for Holy Spirit

Chapter 22  Dale’s Misadventure

They ate freshly picked figs, bread and soft
goat cheese for lunch, sitting in the shade of a cluster of evergreen oak
trees. Bethania mentioned that these types of oaks were the remainder of old
forest trees that originally grew on the island.

“But that was long ago, before I was a child,”
she told them. Ever so often she would glance at Dale and smile. And again she
would think,
Ne! He was a doorkeeper after all!

Dale would grin in return. His white smile was a
definable contrast to her yellow teeth and her gold fillings. Bethania’s gray
strands stuck out from under her scarf, giving her an Einsteinian appearance
but the gleam in her eyes had brightened since her morning revelation.

“Lira! Adi! Girls come and wipe your hands.
We’re leaving,” she called to the girls who had wandered into the oaks. They
stood by themselves, talking in whispers.

As the Liraz Klein and her younger sister
approached, Dale walked hurriedly to the oaks and then beyond into the scrub
trees. He had barely disappeared from sight when he heard the roar of motorcycles
coming along the mountain road. Concealed in the shadows and foliage, Dale
stood watching the bend in the road. One, two, three… six motorbikes came into
view. The machines were not the regular mopeds and ancient scooters seen about
the island. The café racers were new, all chrome and black.

He saw Bethania hurriedly push the sisters into
the bed of the truck. Pulling down the canvas cover, she proceeded around to
the passenger’s door as Sam prepared to speak with one of the six.

A moment later, Bethania bustled toward Sam and
a squat, thick muscled biker, who had turned his bike off in front of the
truck. The other motorcycles with their riders were grouped fifty feet beyond,
engines running. The old woman carried the half case of cigarettes.

Taking the leader by the hand, she brought him
to the back of the truck and lifted the tarp. Dale watched as the words were
exchanged and the cigarettes given. When the motorcycles disappeared, three
going up the hill and the others going down, Dale came out of the trees.

Sam ran to him. “Good thing you stayed hidden!
They are looking for you!”

Sam climbed into the driver’s seat as Dale
helped Bethania up on the opposite side. Sam with Bethania’s help answered
Dale’s questions.

“Those are the New Dawn agents we’ve been
telling you about. Many of them are foreigners and all of them from the
mainland. They are not Corfiats!” Bethania said adamantly.

Sam, with his singled framed spectacles was
driving now. “They will be back. Prepare to duck down. And then, Yiayia, you throw
those things on him if we get stopped again,” Sam said as he nodded toward a
blanket, jacket and Bethania’s characteristic red sweater.

“No! That cannot work,” Bethania remarked. “We
need a story. He is a hitchhiker…”

“I’m a hitchhiker from
South Africa
and I speak Afrikaans.
I speak English but not American English,” Dale said tentatively.

Sam said, “I like that. But you look American.
Do something with your hair and you need a scarf. Yiayia, give him that one on
your head.”

The scarf didn’t help.

Just outside of Avliotes, the truck was waved
over. Without a word of explanation, Dale was dragged from the front seat and
hauled across the graveled shoulder to the high grasses where two muscled men
dropped him. Pain pulsated as grit and dirt mixed with blood where the skin was
sanded away on the back of his legs and elbows. Still, Dale kept to his story.
He reasoned, they wanted an American not an Afrikaner. Stereotypically, Dale
looked the part. He had spent enough time in
South Africa
to play the part of an
Afrikaner, as well.

Karlo, the point-man of this particular
motorcycling threesome had Sam buttonholed against the tailgate while Bethania
hovered about in the background. He was the same man who had received the
cigarettes from her hours earlier. Sam stuck to the story too. Karlo, pushed
Sam back into the truck cab telling him to “be off.” Bethania, climbing slowly
into the passenger side protested.