The Valley of Dry Bones (30 page)

“That leaves two of us,” Mahir whispered. “Zeke, I'm begging permission to speak freely.”

“Just be careful.”

“I promise.”

“Go ahead.”

“If the question is ‘Do you believe this?' my answer is yes.” He pushed off the table and rose to his full height, turning to face the pale young woman in the infirmary bed, IV line in her arm, heavily wrapped leg elevated, eyes red and swollen, tears flowing. “How about you, Cristelle? Do you believe this?”

She twice appeared to try to speak and finally pulled the sheet up to wipe her face. With a fragile voice she said, “Inside I am standing tall and raising both arms. I don't know why you, of all people, are asking me this, Mahir, since it is because of you that both Danley and I can say yes. In fact it was you who told us that new believers should read the Gospel of John first, and that is why I have been memorizing so much of it.

“I was so happy to hear Mrs. Gill read those verses just now, because I have been memorizing them in my devotions this week. I just memorized the next verse too, where Martha answers Jesus' question. So I will proudly say with her, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.'”

Mahir appeared to be hyperventilating. “Cristelle, I so want to believe you.”

She looked wounded. “You
can
believe me! Why wouldn't you?”

Danley said, “What are you saying, Mahir?”

“Do we really want to do this right here,” Mahir said, “right now, in front of everybody?”

Zeke stood. “Yes, we do, Mahir. It's time. Let's have it out. What are we talking about?”

“You'd better be sure you want me to keep going.”

“Yes!” Zeke said. “Nothing is off-limits! This body is going to be one or—”

“Zeke, the children,” Bob Gill said.

He groaned. “Sasha . . .”

Her shoulders slumped. “On it, Dad. Caleb, Kayla, let's go.”

As soon as they were gone, Zeke said, “Mahir, just say it.”

Danley said, “Yeah, what're you talking about?”

“Please,” Cristelle said, obviously terrified.

“All right,” Mahir said. “Two and a half weeks ago I was on the supply run. Everybody got mail, including you, Cristelle. Next morning I was checking the levels on Zeke's Jeep, which I'd used for the drive. You didn't see me when you came in there, 'cause I'd parked in the far corner. I was about to greet you when I saw you hide something in the shelves where the computer surplus stuff is. Do you deny it?”

C
RISTELLE STARED
.

“Well, do you, or am I right?”

“You're right.”

“I had to know,” Mahir said.

“What do you mean?” she said. “You looked at it?”

He nodded.

“Do you read Arabic?”

“I don't,” he said. “But you do, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“What was I supposed to think, Cristelle?”

“I don't know, Mahir. What
did
you think?”

“I thought how strange it was that Haitians had come all the way to California in the middle of the worst drought in history without much hope of finding work or being able to travel. And then I remembered how open you were to the gospel.”

“We were hungry for it.”

“You sure were. You came to faith like you'd been looking for Jesus all your lives.”

“We had, even though we didn't know it.”

“I'll bet. It was like I was the perfect evangelist, the perfect witness.”

“We believed God had sent you, just for us.”

“You sure treated me that way.”

“Because you led us to the truth.”

“Oh, stop! We've seen a lot of people come to faith since we've been out here, but we don't bring them into the family, into the compound. Why you?”

“We asked ourselves the same thing. We felt so blessed, so special. We still do. We thank God every day.”

“Oh, you're good. You thank Allah, you mean.”

“What are you accusing us of, Mahir?” Danley said.

“I haven't decided about you yet, Danley,” Mahir said. “But her, yes.”

“Her what?”

“Do you not know what's going on in the world? Terrorists are radicalizing people everywhere, infiltrating. She would say anything, pretend to believe anything, do anything to get in here.”

“Mahir!” Cristelle said. “You think this because of what you saw me hide in the garage?”

“What else was I to believe?”

“I am your friend, your sister in Christ, your
daughter
in Christ! Why did you not just ask me?”

“Because you would have lied to me!”

“Mahir!” she wailed. “You are breaking my heart! Please honor me by asking me now.”

“About the document?”

“That is what a friend would do,” she said.

“I am not your friend!”

She burst into sobs. “That is plain.” And she muttered something.

“What did you say?”

“I said I would like to still be yours.”

“I'll bet you would. So I'll humor you. Go ahead. Tell me all about the document.”

“I didn't ask you to humor me. I asked you to honor me, honor our friendship.”

“Our friendship is over. You would jeopardize the safety of this group, this place—”

“I would never do that! That is why I hid the document, so no one would feel threatened.”

“All right,” Zeke said. “Enough of this. I want an explanation. You admit the document was yours?”

“That's what I said. I don't deny it.”

“So what is it?”

“I had written to my mother in Carrefour, where we were raised, knowing she would be worried sick about what had become of us. The truth about how we got to California is actually silly and embarrassing. We had heard that we could find work and make money in Las Vegas, but we spent the last of our money on the wrong bus tickets and wound up in Los Angeles. We were trying to work our way to Las Vegas.

“We were stuck, barely getting by, hardly making enough to eat, and sleeping in shacks with other workers when you all were giving out clothes and food and telling people about Jesus. Danley noticed Mahir's French accent and we shared a few Creole phrases. If you remember, Mahir, we told you our religious background.”

Mahir nodded. “You said you'd been raised Baha'i. Your mother was devout. And Danley's relatives—uncles?”

“Right,” Danley said.

“My mother still is,” Cristelle said. “You must understand. Writing my mother that I had become a Christian would be like you writing your loved ones that you had become a Buddhist or a Muslim. I had to write a long, long letter, telling her both Danley's and my whole story and why the gospel made so much sense to us. You know Jesus plays a big role in Baha'i. They believe in the unity of all religions, so He's okay with them. They revere Him, but of course they do not believe He is the only Son of God and certainly not the only way to God. By telling my mother that we, and especially I, had become a believer in Jesus as
the
Christ,
the
Son of God, I might as well have been telling her that I was turning my back on her and everything she believed in. I knew that to her that meant I was leaving the family.

“I tried to tell her I was not doing this, that I still loved her and always would, but I had no idea how she would take it. Well, that is not entirely
true. I had little hope that she would be convinced or that she would respond in any way other than the way she did. What I got back from her had no personal note, nothing telling me that she got my letter, agreed with me, disagreed with me, loved me, hated me, was kicking me out of the family, or what.

“It was simply Baha'i propaganda and doctrine that I am sure she expected me to read all the way through, see how wrong I was, and come back to my true religion. But I have no interest in that. My heart was changed when I found Jesus and my sins were forgiven. And as much as it hurts me to cause pain to my mother, my mind is made up. We do not burn things here, and I did not want to risk someone seeing this document in the trash, so I made the wrong decision and thought I could put it somewhere no one would find it.”

The bravado was gone from Mahir's tone. “Your story could be easily proved if anyone else here could read Arabic.”

“I can,” Danley said.

“Someone without bias,” Mahir said. “Sorry to be so suspicious, but I'm pretty far out on a limb here and need to be sure.”

“Actually, I can read a little Arabic.”

All eyes turned to Jennie Gill, and even Bob looked surprised. “Really?” he said.

“I have no idea how much I'd remember,” she said. “But forty years ago I took a comparative languages course and learned how many dialects there were. I might be able to decipher a few words or phrases.”

Zeke said, “Cristelle, tell Danley exactly where you put the pages.”

He was back in minutes and spread them before Jennie. She studied the first page, a few from the middle, and the last. Slowly following her finger from right to left, she squinted and hesitated and pressed her lips together.

Finally she looked to Mahir. “You'll be happy to know that this appears to be exactly what Cristelle says it is. Copyrighted by the Baha'i International Community.”

Zeke was staggered when Mahir sagged in his chair and banged his
forehead on the table. He sat back and covered his eyes with his hands, sobbing. “Oh, no!” he wailed. “Oh, God, forgive me! Cristelle and Danley, forgive me! I've been such a fool!”

“You misunderstood, Mahir,” Cristelle said. “You should have just asked—”

“No!” he yelled, “You don't understand!”

“You should have assumed better about your friends,” she said, “but—”

“No, no! I tried to have you killed! I don't deserve to live!”

Z
EKE RUSHED TO
M
AHIR
. “What're you saying?”

The Frenchman pounded the table as Danley approached. “I knew it! You forced her into that tanker Sunday!”

“I did! I even told WatDoc she was a terrorist and to go after her!”

“Mahir!” Zeke said.

“Just kill me!”

“Take my gun or I will!” Danley said as Katashi rushed over and pulled it from his holster.

Doc and Bob Gill stood to move Cristelle back into the infirmary, and Alexis grabbed the IV stand.

“Danley!” Cristelle said, fighting to be heard, her voice evidencing how weak she was. “Leave him alone! And Doc, I don't want to go anywhere. Everyone stay right here. Mahir, you calm down, and I mean it.”

Mahir sat with his head nearly to his knees, banging his thighs with his fists. “I'm such a fool, such an idiot! Somebody just shoot me!”

“Nobody's going to shoot you,” Zeke said. “Just calm down now.”

As Mahir sat rocking and weeping, Zeke felt a huge sense of relief. But why? Here he had just confirmed that a man he had worked with for twenty years had tried to have someone killed. But he no longer feared a terrorist among them. What was he to do about a friend who had committed a crime?

“Mahir, do you also want to tell the truth about the oxygen?”

He nodded miserably. “I lost my mind, Zeke. What if Doc hadn't gotten to her in time?”

“We can't cover up either of these incidents,” Zeke said. “They're more than just personal offenses.”

“I don't understand you, Mahir,” Cristelle said hoarsely, “and I'm deeply hurt. But I forgive you.”

“I don't,” Danley said.

“Danley!”

“I'm sorry,” Danley said. “You can forgive him and God can forgive him, and maybe someday God can help me forgive him. Be he tried to take you from me! And all he had to do was ask!”

“You're right,” Mahir said. “I don't deserve your forgiveness. I couldn't be sorrier, but I don't blame you. And I know I need more than your forgiveness. I need help.”

Zeke's walkie-talkie clicked twice and he flinched. Others with units—Alexis and Katashi and the Gutierrezes—had checked theirs too. Protocol was to not click when you were inside, and everyone was inside. He held up a hand to tell everyone to not respond. He pulled his from his belt and held it aloft, clicking twice.

Two quick clicks came in response.

“Lexi, run and see if Sasha's doing that. She'd better not be, 'cause she knows better. If it's not her, give me one click. I'll be at the southeast periscope. Katashi, Benita, come with me. Raoul, keep Mahir right here.”

“Thanks for letting me come here, Zeke.”

“We're gonna have to talk about WatDoc.”

“I'll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Zeke had a feeling it might be sooner than later, because if the walkie-talkie clicker wasn't anybody inside, it could be only one other person.

Hearing one click, Zeke raised the periscope and quickly scanned the area. He found a small water tanker nearby with one occupant slouched behind the wheel.

“Willard?”

“Gotta lemme in, bruh! Sorry!”

“Get that rig at least a quarter mile from here so you don't give us away if you haven't already, and we'll talk about it.”

“You got it.”

“First you're gonna tell me how you found us, and then no promises. I'd have to convince an awful lot of people, and that's not gonna be easy.”

“Zeke!” Benita said, “hold up, man! What're you thinkin'? That's WatDoc, right?”

“You've got to trust me on this—”

“Whoa, Zeke!” Katashi said. “Nobody's saying we don't trust you, but what happened last night that would make you think we'd want—”

“Listen, he saved my life when I woulda been history. And I can't believe God gave me a word for him for nothing. I truly think he's—”