by Tim LaHaye
A sickening sound of metal meeting bone echoed through the chamber, and the wrestler cried out. He fell to the ground, Murphy’s hatchet lodged in the back of his leg.
This was Murphy’s chance. He grabbed the wrestler around the neck and squeezed. The wrestler caught an arm in his crushing grip, and Murphy knew he couldn’t match the man’s strength. He put his foot on the hatchet and pushed it in deeper, as blood splattered everywhere. The giant howled and released Murphy’s arm. He tightened his chokehold and finally the man ceased struggling and collapsed to the floor.
Lucky, thought Murphy. That hatchet could just as easily have hit—
He hit the deck as his knife flew overhead. Another water bottle rolled in his direction. He glanced about and saw his belongings scattered around the room. He sighed and picked everything up. Lost a couple of water bottles and the compass was smashed, but everything else seemed to be okay.
Now he just needed to get that backpack.
Now empty, the backpack continued to spin in the center of the roulette wheel. Murphy tried to get to it once more, but it was spinning too fast, and he was thrown again.
There must be a way to do this.
Murphy ran his fingers through his hair and looked around.
Laser.
He grabbed the impact case and took out his bow and an arrow. He then tied his rope to the arrow and took aim. It was an easy target. The arrow shot between the backpack and one strap, and lodged into the opposite wall. He gently pulled on the loose end and guided the pack off the wheel.
Something fluttered and flew out from under the backpack. The next clue! Murphy had forgotten all about it.
A corner of the index card landed in the pool of blood oozing from the giant’s severed tendon. Murphy retrieved the card. It read:
IN THE TOWN
OF KING YAMANI
A GREAT MYSTERY
HAS BEEN SOLVED.
I Kings 8:9
Murphy frowned. Who in the world is King Yamani? He turned the card over and read the other side.
RIDE YOUR FEARS
TO THE END.
It made no sense. He tucked the card into a pocket and gathered his belongings into his backpack. All except…
Ugh. He reached down and reluctantly dislodged the hatchet from the giant’s gargantuan leg. He wiped the blood off on the man’s red outfit, and put it into his pack. The blood ran freely from the gaping wound and Murphy’s stomach turned.
And they say professional wrestling is fake.
FIVE
MURPHY ENTERED a dimly lit hallway that twisted a couple of times until it came to another entrance. The sign above read:
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Those who can escape the hall.
Welcome to the Hall of Mirrors
Murphy let out a sigh. What next?
He entered and was greeted by … himself. Dozens of Murphys were reflected back at him. Most of them were normal but there were several that, under better circumstances, might have caused Murphy to smile. One of them was curved and made him look fat. Another made him look skinny—he really liked that one. There was one that endowed him with a tiny head and big feet, and another that gave him tiny feet and a big head.
He opened his backpack and rummaged through it. He pulled out an energy bar and then strapped on the backpack. He switched the impact case to his left hand. He then began to walk around the room, touching each of the mirrors until he found the passageway that started the maze of mirrors. As he moved forward he would occasionally break off a small part of the energy bar and drop it on the floor.
Hansel and Gretel have got nothing on me, he thought.
As he worked his way through, Murphy was on the alert for the next attack. At each corner he became more and more apprehensive. Then he heard the cackling laugh of Methuselah echoing through the maze.
“Bravo, Murphy. This is turning out to be more entertaining than I’d hoped.”
Murphy held his tongue. He didn’t want to give Methuselah any more satisfaction than he already had.
I wonder if he can see me. Maybe he has some hidden video cameras set up in here.
Murphy looked up at the line where the mirrors met the ceiling, and saw a very small red light about twenty feet away. It would occasionally blink on and off. He cautiously approached.
Suddenly, he found himself dropping into a hole in the floor. But even as the realization struck, the impact case carrying his bow and arrows straddled the opening of the trapdoor, wrenching his left arm and shoulder. He was now hanging in the air, barely holding on to the handle of the case. And his fingers were beginning to slip….
The sudden fall had caused him to drop the energy bar, and Murphy heard it hit water somewhere in the darkness below him.
Adrenaline pumped through his body. He struggled to grasp the impact case with his right hand and pull himself up. As he did, the case slipped a little.
Whoa. Easy now.
He had to work carefully and slowly. It took all of his strength to pull himself up, all the while expecting a minute shift of the case to plunge him into the abyss below. He finally crawled over the edge, exhausted from the effort, his shoulder throbbing. He lay there for a while to regain his strength and derived some small satisfaction from the fact that he had again escaped Methuselah’s gauntlet. He rubbed his aching arm and shoulder.
Close one.
It took Murphy another ten minutes before he exited the Hall of Mirrors. And it was none too soon as far as he was concerned. In the passageway outside the maze, he noticed another sign with a red arrow. It pointed down a wide hallway to his right. He was growing weary of this game, but there was nothing to do at this point but press on.
At the end of the hallway, Murphy found himself in a large room. To one side he noticed small railway tracks and a brightly colored two-seater roller-coaster car. The car had a bumper that ran around its perimeter. The railway tracks disappeared under two wide swinging doors. Above the arched doorway was a sign:
Tunnel of Fear
Near the roller-coaster car was a red button and the words: PUSH TO START.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Murphy tossed the impact case and backpack into the rear seats and climbed into the front. The next clue had to be here somewhere. He looked all over and even felt under the seats with his hands. Nothing.
He climbed into the second row and continued to search.
Murphy was thrown back into his seat as the car lurched forward. The bumper hit the swinging doors, and they popped open and then closed behind, leaving him in darkness.
He could hear the wheels on the track and the car jerked on the turns. He stuffed the backpack down on the floor of the car to make room to sit back in the seat. He felt strings brush across his face and an occasional burst of air. Every now and then lights would flash as some Halloween-monster reject would pop up and let out a scream. He could hear the sounds of wild dogs howling and eerie music.
Tunnel of Fear, huh. Not so much.
Yet something made him apprehensive. Call it instinct, intuition, or just plain street smarts—whatever it was sent a tingle down Murphy’s spine. The clicking noise caused him to leap off the seat of the roller-coaster car as fast as his six-foot-three-inch frame would allow. He sailed over the back, clutching the seat with both hands. As his feet landed on the bumper that ran around the car, he hunkered down and held his breath.
It was not a moment too soon. A rush of wind tousled his hair as two eighty-pound blocks of cement smashed into the seat where he had just been sitting.
Another millisecond and I would have been dead, he thought. How do I keep getting into things like this?
Murphy held on as he rode the bumper behind the last seat. Methuselah had a way of playing for keeps in his little contests.
After a dozen more turns of the track, Murphy could see streams of light around the edges of two swinging doors ahead.
; The exit.
As he hurtled toward the double doors, something didn’t feel right. Too easy, he thought.
He jumped off the car a moment before it shot through the doors. He rolled to soften the fall as he tumbled along the track.
He looked up as a loud crash filled his senses. He got to his feet, walked toward the doors, and carefully opened them.
About ten feet outside the doors the railway tracks had dead-ended into a block wall. The roller-coaster car was crumpled in a heap. His backpack was inextricable from the wreckage and this was one impact that his impact case couldn’t handle.
So much for Laser. Knew I should’ve insured the darn thing.
Then Murphy saw it. It was another one of Methuselah’s three-by-five cards, taped to the block wall above the destroyed car. He took it off the wall and tried to make out the familiar handwriting in the dim light.
Well, you must be alive
if you are reading this card.
Since you have come this far,
you deserve your reward.
Murphy turned the card over.
Thirty degrees northeast
of the altar…
press the king’s head.
SIX
Jerusalem, A.D. 30
THE MARKETPLACE WAS TEEMING with vendors selling their fruits and vegetables. Weavers of purple cloth were yelling and holding up their materials, hoping to gain the attention of passersby. Shepherds led their sheep to be slaughtered, skinned, and hung up with other meats. The pungent odor of perspiration was heavy in the hot, dusty air.
Caiaphas was nervous. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him, hoping he would pass unnoticed since he was not wearing his normal priestly robes. He sighed and stepped under the shade of one of the arches that led toward the temple. He raised his hand and motioned for the men to approach.
Eshban poked Zerah in the side.
“Stop that!” said Zerah with irritation in his voice.
Eshban pointed. “He is giving us the sign to come.”
Caiaphas watched the two swarthy men approach. He was beginning to have second thoughts. Would anyone really believe them? They were poor men of little influence. Well, better to fail in the attempt than not to try.
Eshban spoke. “How may we be of service to you, Your Excellency?” There was a sarcastic curl to his smile.
“I want you to follow the teacher. The one they call Jesus. I want you to listen carefully to everything he says and then report back to me each evening.”
Eshban and Zerah nodded their heads in agreement and exchanged conspiratorial glances.
“Now go. I must not be seen talking to you.” He then turned and walked away into the crowd.
Zerah looked at Eshban. “How much did the high priest give you?”
Eshban opened the small leather bag. “Four silver coins. Two for me and two for you.”
Zerah eagerly took the coins and put one of them between his teeth and bit down to test it. It was real silver. He smiled. The remnants of his last meal were visible between his teeth and his breath reeked of garlic.
The teacher and his followers were walking toward the eastern gate. Zerah and Eshban followed, moving steadily closer.
“Who is the big one talking with the teacher?” Zerah muttered.
“I heard someone call him Peter. A few more steps and we shall be able to hear all.”
“Master, look at these tremendous buildings! The stones are massive. I wonder how they ever moved them into place! It must have taken many years.”
“Yes, those are magnificent buildings, Peter. But I will tell you a truth. One day these buildings will be completely demolished. The destruction will be so great that there will not be one stone left on top of the other.”
Zerah looked at Eshban and shook his head in disbelief at what they had just heard. He opened his mouth to speak, and Eshban motioned for him to remain silent. They were within earshot.
Eshban and Zerah followed, blending in with the other people going to and from the city. Their dirty and torn clothing made it easy to remain inconspicuous. No one paid them any attention.
The climb up the Mount of Olives took about thirty minutes. Eshban and Zerah watched as the teacher and his four disciples sat down on a cluster of rocks overlooking Jerusalem and the temple courtyard. They concealed themselves behind an olive tree within hearing distance.
“Who is the one talking to the teacher now?” whispered Zerah.
“One of the other followers called him Andrew.”
“Master, you mentioned that the temple would one day be destroyed.”
“The temple will fall. The rivers will boil. The Day of Judgment will come, and it shall be a sign of my return.”
“Can we tell when the end of the world will come?” asked Peter.
“Others will come in my name, claiming to be the Messiah. They will lead many astray. Wars will break out near and far, but don’t panic. Yes, these things must come, but the end won’t follow immediately. Kingdoms will wage war against one another, and earthquakes will swallow up entire nations. Terrible famine shall follow. But all this will be only the beginning of the horrors to come.”
Eshban and Zerah looked at each other in disbelief.
“It sounds terrible, Master!” said one of the followers.
“Will anyone survive this devastation?” asked the fourth member of the group.
“Who are those two followers?” whispered Zerah. “They bear a resemblance to each other.”
“They are brothers. Their names are James and John. I’ve seen them on the seashore of Galilee. I think they are fishermen.”
“Yes, people will survive. But when these things begin to happen, be cautious! You will be handed over to the courts and beaten in the synagogues. You will be accused before governors and kings of being my followers. This will be your opportunity to tell them about me. And the Good News must first be preached to every nation and then the end will come.”
“It sounds as if it will be a terrible time of tribulation.”
“Yes, Peter, it will be. At that time if anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘There he is!,’ do not believe it. For false Christs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and miracles to deceive the majority of people. Even some believers will be tempted to follow these false teachers who seek financial gain, glory, and power.
“Beware of false prophets who come disguised as harmless sheep, but are really wolves that will tear you apart. You can detect them by the way they act, just as you can identify a tree by its fruit. You don’t pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles. A healthy tree produces good fruit, and an unhealthy tree produces bad fruit.
“Not all people who sound religious are really godly. They may refer to me as ‘Lord,’ but they still won’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven. The decisive issue is whether they obey my Father in heaven. On judgment day, many will cry out, ‘Lord, Lord, we prophesied in your name and cast out demons in your name and performed many miracles in your name.’ But I will reply, ‘I never knew you. Go away; the things you did were unauthorized.’ Be warned, Peter. I have told you ahead of time so that you might be prepared.”
Eshban leaned over and whispered into Zerah’s ear. “I am sure that the high priest will want to hear about all of this. It almost sounds as if there is going to be some sort of insurrection against the religious leaders.”
Zerah nodded his head in agreement.
SEVEN
MURPHY WAS SITTING at his desk when Shari entered, carrying an armful of papers. She smiled and her eyes twinkled at the sight of him.
“So, what’s the occasion?”
Murphy looked at her curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“I usually get to the office way ahead of you. You must have some burning project you’re working on.”
“I just needed to do some thinking.”
She plopped the papers on his desk. “Here’s one less thin
g you’ll have to think about. It’s all the book reports and test papers. I was up till two this morning grading them for you.”
“Thanks, Shari. That’s a real help. Above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Well, I know how much you hate grading papers…. almost as much as I do. Since I’ve finished your dirty work, maybe I could get off a little early this afternoon?”
“To get some sleep?”
“No, to do some shopping.”
“Now, that sounds real restful.” He stifled a yawn and Shari studied him closely.
“Speaking of restful. You look a little tired yourself.”
Murphy nodded his head.
“Oh, I get it. You must have been off having fun with your friend Methuselah. He plays a little rough.”
Her eyes noticed the turnip-sized bruise on his forearm and the slight swelling around his left eye.
“Those bruises look like they hurt.” There it was. The protective, motherly tone. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What happened?”
Murphy recounted his trip to the Hall of Records in Charlotte, and the discovery of the shaft that led to the fun house. He omitted some of the gory details, knowing that she would not be pleased to hear how close he had come to death. He handed her the strange messages on the three-by-five cards that Methuselah had left for him.
“This is weird. Who is King Yamani? What town is he talking about? And what does that have to do with I Kings 8:9?”
“No idea. Methuselah doesn’t ever make anything easy.”
“What about the Bible reference?”
“The passage in Kings refers to the Ark of the Covenant.”
“You don’t think he’s found the Ark, do you?” Shari’s eyes were wide with excitement. “That would be one of the greatest archaeological finds ever!”
