Nicolae: The Rise Of The Antichrist (21 page)

Buck looked to Dr. Ben-Judah, who simply bowed his head and prayed aloud once more. “O God, our help in ages past-”

Buck immediately began to shiver and dropped to his knees. He sensed the Lord impressing upon him that the answer was before them. Echoing in his mind was a phrase he could only assume was of God: “I have spoken. I have provided. Do not hesitate.”

Buck felt humbled and emboldened, but still he didn’t know what to do. If God had told him to go through Egypt, he was willing. Was that it? What had been provided?

Michael and Tsion were now on their knees with Buck, huddled together, shoulders touching. None of them spoke. Buck felt the presence of the Spirit of God and began to weep. The other two seemed to be shivering as well. Suddenly Michael spoke, “The glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.”

Words filled Buck’s mind. Though he could barely pronounce them through his emotion, he blurted, “You give me living water and I thirst no more.” What was that?

Was God telling him he could travel into the Sinai desert and not die of thirst?

Tsion Ben-Judah prostrated himself on the floor, sobbing and groaning. “Oh God, oh God, oh God-”

Michael lifted his face and said, “Speak Lord, for your servants hear. Heed the words of the Lord. He who has ears to hear, let him hear. ...”

Tsion again: “The Lord of hosts has sworn, saying, ‘Surely as I have thought, so shall it come to pass, and as I have purposed, so it shall stand.’”

It was as if Buck had been steamrollered by the Spirit of God. Suddenly he knew what they must do. The pieces of the puzzle were all there. He, and they, had been waiting for some miraculous intervention. The fact was, if God wanted Tsion Ben-Judah out of Israel, he would make it out. If he did not, then he would not. God had told Buck in a dream to go another way, through Egypt. He had provided transportation through Michael. And now he had promised that his glory would be their rear guard.

“Amen,” Buck said, “and amen.” He rose and said, “It’s time, gentlemen. Let’s move.”

Dr. Ben-Judah looked surprised. “Has the Lord spoken to you?”

Buck shot him a double take. “Did he not speak to you, Tsion?”

“Yes! I just wanted to make sure we were in agreement.”

“If I have a vote,” Michael said, “we’re unanimous. Let’s get going.”

Michael’s compatriots pulled the boat into position as Buck slung in his bag and Tsion climbed aboard. As Michael fired up the engines and they started back down the Jordan, Buck handed Tsion the identification papers that carried Buck’s own name and picture. Tsion looked surprised. “I have felt no leading that I should use these,” he said.

“And I have a definite leading that I should not have them on my person,” Buck said.

“I am in the country as Herb Katz, and I’ll leave the country as Herb Katz. I’ll ask you for the documents back when we get into the Sinai.”

“This is exciting,” Tsion said, “is it not? We are talking confidently about getting into the Sinai, and we have no idea how God is going to do it.”

Michael left the boat in the hands of one of his friends and sat with Buck and Tsion.

“Tsion has a little cash, a few credit cards, and his own papers. If he is found with those, he will be detained and likely put to death. Shall we keep those for him?”

Tsion reached for his wallet and opened it in the moonlight. He removed the cash, folded it once, and stuck it in his pocket. The credit cards he began flipping one by one into the Jordan River. It was as close to amusement as Buck had noticed in the man since he had first seen him in the hideout. Almost everything went into the drink-all forms of identification and the miscellaneous documentation he had gathered over the years. He pulled out a small photo section and gasped. He turned the pictures toward the moon and wept openly. “Michael, I must ask you to someday ship these to me.”

“I will do it.”

Tsion flipped the old wallet into the water. “And now,” Michael said, “I believe you should return Mr. Williams’s papers to him.”

Tsion reached for them. “Wait a minute,” Buck said. “Should we not try to get him some phony ID, if he’s not going to use mine?”

“Somehow,” Tsion said, “what Michael says seems right. I am a man who has been stripped of everything, even his identity.”

Buck took back his ID and began rummaging in his bag for a place to hide it. “No good,” Michael said. “There’s nowhere on your person or in your bag they will not search and find an extra ID.”

“Well,” Buck said, “I can’t toss mine into the Jordan.” Michael held out a hand. “I will ship it to you along with Tsion’s photographs,” he said. “It’s the safest.”

Buck hesitated. “You must not be found with that either,” he said.

Michael took it. “My life is destined to be short anyway, brother,” he said. “I feel most honored and blessed to be one of the witnesses predicted in the Scriptures. But my assignment is to preach in Israel, where the real Messiah is hated. My days are limited whether I am caught with your papers or not.”

Buck thanked him and shook his head. “I still don’t see how we’re going to get Tsion across any border without papers, real or phony.”

“We already prayed,” Tsion said. “I do not know how God is going to do this either. I just know that he is.”

Buck’s practicality and resourcefulness were at war with his faith. “But don’t we at least have to do our part?”

“And what is our part, Cameron?” the rabbi said. “It is when we are out of ideas and options and actions that we can only depend upon God.”

Buck pressed his lips together and turned his face away. He wished he had the same faith Tsion had. In many ways, he knew he did. But still it didn’t make sense to just plunge ahead, daring border guards to guess who Tsion was.

“I’m sorry for calling now,” Chloe said. “But, Daddy, I’ve been trying to reach Buck on his cell phone.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Buck, honey. You know he finds ways to stay safe.”

“Oh, Dad! Buck finds ways to nearly get himself killed. I know he was at the King David under his phony name, and I’m tempted to call there, but he promised he would stay away from there tonight.”

“Then I’d wait on that, Chloe. You know Buck rarely cares much about what time of the day it is. If the story or the caper takes him all night, then it takes him all night.”

“You’re a big help.”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Well, I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t have his cell phone with him all the time. You keep yours in your pocket, don’t you?”

“Usually. But maybe it’s in his bag.”

“So if his bag is in the hotel and he’s out gallivanting, I’m out of luck?”

“I guess so, hon.”

“I wish he’d take his phone with him, even if he doesn’t take his bag.”

“Try not to worry, Chloe. Buck always turns up somewhere.”

When Michael docked at the mouth of the Jordan, he and his fellow guards scanned the horizon and then casually walked to his tiny car and crammed themselves inside.

Michael drove to his home, which had a tiny lean-to that served as a garage. That was too small for the bus that dominated the alley behind his humble place. Lights came on. A baby cried. Michael’s wife padded out in a robe and embraced him desperately. She spoke urgently to him in Hebrew. Michael looked apologetically at Buck. “I need to keep in touch more,” he said, shrugging.

Buck patted his pocket, feeling for his phone. It was not there. He dug in his bag and found it. He should keep in touch with Chloe more too, but for right now it was more important that he get ahold of Ken Ritz. While Buck was on the phone he was aware of all the activity around him. Silently, Michael and his friends went to work. Oil and water were dumped into the engine and radiator of the rickety old school bus. One of the men filled the gas tank from cans stored at the side of the house. Michael’s wife handed out a stack of blankets and a basket of clothes for Tsion.

As Buck hung up from talking to Ritz, who had agreed to meet them at Al Arish in the Sinai, Buck passed Michael’s wife on his way out to the bus. She hesitated shyly, glancing at him. He slowed, assuming she did not understand English but also wanting to express his gratitude.

“English?” he tried. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “I, uh, just wanted to thank you,” he said. “So, uh, thank you.” He spread his hands and then clasped them together under his chin, hoping she would know what he meant. She was a tiny, fragile-looking, dark-eyed thing. Sadness and terror were etched on her face and in her eyes. It was as if she knew she was on the right side, but that her time was limited. It couldn’t be long before her husband was found out. He was not only a convert to the true Messiah, but he had also defended an enemy of the state. Buck knew Michael’s wife must be wondering how long it would be before she and her children suffered the same fate that Tsion Ben-Judah’s family suffered. And short of that, how long before she lost her husband to the cause, worthy though it was.

It would have been against custom for her to have touched Buck, so he was startled when she approached. She stood just two feet from his face and stared into his eyes. She said something in Hebrew and he recognized only the last two words: “Y’shua Hamashiach.”

When Buck slipped away in the darkness and arrived at the bus, Tsion was already stretched out under the seats in the back. Food and extra water and oil and gasoline had already been stored.

Michael approached, his three friends behind him. He embraced Buck and kissed him on both cheeks. “Go with God,” he said, handing him the ownership documents. Buck reached to shake hands with the other three, who apparently knew he wouldn’t understand them anyway, and said nothing.

He stepped onto the bus and shut the door, settling into the creaky chair behind the wheel. Michael signaled him from outside to slide open his driver’s-side window.

“Feather it,” Michael said.

“Feather it?” Buck said.

“The throttle.”

Buck put the pedal down and released it, turning the key. The engine roared noisily to life. Michael put up both hands to urge him to be as quiet as possible. Buck slowly let out the clutch, and the old crate shuddered and jumped and lurched. Just to get out of the alleyway and onto the main thoroughfare, Buck felt as if he were riding the clutch.

Shifting, clutching, and, yes, feathering the throttle, he was finally free of the tiny neighborhood and out onto the road. Now, if he could just follow Michael’s instructions and directions and somehow get to the border, the rest would be up to God. He felt an unusual sense of freedom, simply piloting a vehicle- albeit one like this-on his own. He was on a journey that would lead him somewhere. By dawn, he could be anywhere: detained, imprisoned, in the desert, in the air, or in heaven.

IT didn’t take Buck long to learn what Michael meant by “feathering” the throttle. Any time Buck clutched to shift, the engine nearly stalled. When he came to a complete stop, he had to keep his left foot on the clutch, his right heel on the brake, and feather the throttle with the toes of his right foot.

Along with the title to the dilapidated rig, Michael had included a rough map. “There are four different places where you can cross over from Israel into Egypt by auto,”

Michael had told him. The two most direct were at Rafah on the Gaza Strip. “But these have always been heavily patrolled. You might rather head south directly out of Jerusalem through Hebron to Beersheba. I would advise continuing southeast out of Beersheba, though that is slightly out of your way. About two-thirds of the way between Beersheba and Yeroham is a southern but mostly western cutoff that takes you through the northern edge of the Negev. You’re less than fifty kilometers from the border there, and when you come within less than ten kilometers, you can head north and west or continue due west. I couldn’t guess which border would be easier to get through. I would recommend the southern, because you can then continue to a northwest route that takes you directly into Al Arish. If you take the northern pass, you must go back up to the main road between Rafah and Al Arish, which is more heavily traveled and more carefully watched.”

That had been all Buck needed to hear. He would take the southernmost of the four border crossings and pray he was not stopped until then.

Tsion Ben-Judah stayed on the floor under the seats until Buck had rumbled far enough south of Jerusalem that they both felt safe. Tsion moved up and crouched next to Buck. “Are you tired?” he asked. “Would you like me to take over driving?”

“You’re joking.”

“It may be many months before I am able to find humor in anything,” Tsion said.

“But you’re not serious about sitting behind the wheel of this bus, are you? What would we do if we were stopped? Trade places?”

“I was just offering.”

“I appreciate it, but it’s out of the question. I’m fine, well rested. Anyway, I’m scared to death. That will keep me alert.”

Buck downshifted to navigate a curve, and Tsion swung forward from the momentum. He hung on to the metal pole next to the driver’s seat, and he spun around and smacked into Buck, pushing him to the left.

“I told you, Tsion, I’m awake. You need not continually try to rouse me.”

He looked at Tsion to see if he had elicited a smile. It appeared Tsion was trying to be polite. He apologized profusely and slid into the seat behind Buck, his head low, his chin resting on his hands, which gripped the bar that separated the driver from the first seat.

“Tell me when I need to duck.”

“By the time I know that, you’ll likely already be seen.”

“I do not think I can take riding long on the floorboards,” Ben-Judah said. “Let us both just be on the lookout.”

It was difficult for Buck to get the old bus to move faster than seventy kilometers per hour. He feared it would take all night to get to the border. Maybe that was OK. The darker and the later the better. As he chugged along, watching the gauges and trying not to do anything that might draw attention to them, he noticed in his rearview mirror that Tsion had slumped in the seat and was trying to rest on his side. Buck thought the rabbi had said something. “I beg your pardon?” Buck said.