The Newton Code

by Liam Fialkov

  “That would be okay with me,” he said.

  “I got mad at him for even thinking about it.”

  “Your father is a good man,” Michael said.

  “I have a feeling,” Melany said. “that you came to tell me something.”

  “True,” he said. “I’m going to the state of Washington, there’s a chance that from there I’ll go to Jerusalem, so I won’t be able to visit you in the next two or three weeks.”

  “Will you be able to call us?

  “I’ll try. They know that I have a daughter, so they’d understand if I’d want to call her.”

  “Will you be in danger?”

  “I don’t think so; I may be their spokesman.”

  “Congratulations on your new job.” She had a bitter smile on her face.

  Chapter 22

  From Seattle, Michael took a bus to Olympia, the capital of Washington state. As instructed, he checked into the St. George hotel in the downtown area and proceeded to hand in his credit card.

  “That won’t be necessary,” a white-haired, middle-aged receptionist smiled at him. “I know you are on your way to the Bishop’s land, and we have arrangements with them.”

  “Thank you very much,” Michael said as she handed him a key.

  “You know,” the lady said, “Charles Bishop is a dear friend and a hero of mine. There’s nobody in this town who doesn’t admire him for what he did for the country and how he supports small businesses, schools, and the arts, in Olympia.”

  Michael nodded and smiled at her. Stewart was right, he thought to himself, the authorities around here would be very reluctant to act against a hero and a benefactor.

  He left his suitcase in his room, and stepped out for a stroll in the area. It was a beautiful town indeed, with water all around, and majestic mountains in the distance. As it was getting dark, he entered a Café, where he had a light supper of salad and fresh bread.

  He went to sleep early.

  ***

  On the following day, he received an early phone call from an unidentified number.

  “Hello, Michael?”

  “That’s me,” Michael acknowledged, not recognizing the male voice.

  “My name is Ron. I’m running some errands in town, and I’ll be at the hotel around 10 o’clock to pick you up.”

  “Sounds good,” Michael said; glancing at his watch and realizing he had a short time to grab something to eat and get organized.

  Ron was a tall man that looked like he was in his fifties. He had long black hair and beard. “Peace be with you, brother,” he said to Michael as he shook his hand.

  “Peace be with you as well,” answered Michael, who didn’t know what else to say. He noticed the firm hand grip.

  It was a large, black Chevy SUV that looked new and shiny. Roomy inside, Michael had no problem finding space for his belonging and sit comfortably.

  “We have a long ride ahead of us,” Ron said. “It’s not so far away, but the roads around are not exactly what you’d call freeways.”

  Indeed, they went through narrow winding paved roads but the ride itself wasn’t too bumpy, as the roads were well maintained, and the truck was apparently suited for such a ride.

  “It’s quiet on the land these days,” Ron said.

  “Isn’t it always quiet out in the country?” Michael wondered.

  “Well,” Ron smiled, “When everyone’s around, we are about sixty folks, not including children, and it could get a bit hectic.”

  “And everyone is not around?” Michael asked.

  “Most of the folks are already on their way to Jerusalem. We are operating with a skeleton-staff who was left to attend the land, the kids, animals, and of course, to take care of Charles.”

  “Charles is not going to Jerusalem?” Michael was surprised.

  “He can’t. You know he was badly injured in Afghanistan. Normally, it doesn’t stop him from fulfilling his tasks, but such a trip could be a bit too much for him, and mostly, he doesn’t want his presence to be a burden for the people who’d be doing the holy work. He will supervise the whole operation from his command center on the land, and that’s, my friend, where you come in.”

  “Where I come in?” Michael tried to comprehend Ron’s words.

  “Sure, as I understand, Charles brought you in as a spokesman, to explain to the world what we did and why. I’ll be honest with you; I was against the idea of bringing in an outsider for such a delicate job. I know you teach journalism in a prestigious university back east, and you have a way with words. Now, I also see that you are quite presentable, if you know what I mean. Still, I thought the job should have been given to the pretty lady, because we know she is one hundred percent trustable.

  “You mean Mary?”

  “Of course, obviously, I don’t have anything personal against you; only that you are a newcomer, unlike many of us who’d been with Charles many years.”

  “I see,” Michael was digesting the words. In a way, he appreciated Ron for being so candid. “Do you know Charles for many years?”

  “More than thirty years, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. I mean nothing. I sure hope, Michael, that you’ll fit in and that Charles’ decision to get you on board will prove to be the right one. However, let me give you a friendly warning: don’t even think of crossing us.”

  Chapter 23

  Jerusalem 70 AD

  My name is Elisha Ben-Shimon. I am about Fifty years old. I’m old and tired. I think it won’t be long before I’ll die and join my ancestors from the land of Judea. Most of my life, I’ve been a slave here in Rome. My first master was a good man, and he even allowed me to learn to read and write Latin, so that I can serve him better. His son, who is my master now, is not so good to me. He even punishes me every now and then by whipping me with a scourge, which inflicts me with a great deal of pain.

  But I’m not interested in spending what are probably my last days on earth in complaining. I want to write my memories from those horrific days—so many years ago. I was only a child in my beloved land of Judea, when the Romans came and demolished Jerusalem, and destroyed and burned our holy temple.

  I must have been about nine or ten years old, the oldest of three siblings. I was very young, and I didn’t understand everything, but I know what I saw. I remember that we, the Jews, had rebelled against the mighty Roman Empire. My father said that it was a mistake. He was an expert shoemaker, and my mother was a seamstress. We were poor, but we had our own house in the upper part of Jerusalem, and there was never a shortage of food in our home.

  Over four or perhaps five years, the Romans failed to suppress the uprising. But then one morning, we got up and looked outside the city walls, and we saw a huge army. They marched in straight lines as they got closer and closer. I know now that there were about sixty thousand Roman soldiers led by Titus, the Roman Emperor. But back then, I only knew that there were so many of them, marching with their war machines, that I was engulfed by fear, and I knew that only a miracle could save us.

  “If only we didn’t waste our resources in internal wars,” I remember my father saying. My father was poor, but he was a wise man, no less than those so-called wise leaders of extreme zealots, fanatic factions who fought against each other.

  The Jewish defending force was small, but they were willing to fight till their last drop of blood—which they did. The zealot factions had finally united against a real enemy, but it was too late.

  It started in a promising way for the Jews. A surprising counter-attack caused the Romans heavy casualties, and Titus nearly got killed. But later, the massive Roman forces had the upper hand. Titus had so many soldiers which he didn’t mind sacrificing. For every killed soldier, he had many replacements. He had those powerful catapult machines that constantly bombarded the wall with big, weighty rocks. That way, they weakened and opened holes in the fortified walls, and shielded the Roman soldiers who had been building dikes and getting close to our protected defense lines. />
  Jerusalem had three layers of walls. With mighty battering rams, they broke through the first wall to arrive at a neighborhood where they massacred everybody, including women, children, and the elderly. After a few days, they broke through the second wall, and they advanced to the third, most fortified wall located in the Antonia, a castle that King Herod positioned in order to control the temple mount and the temple.

  Titus calculated that if the Antonia would fall, so would the temple, and that will break the spirit of the Jewish defenders—which will bring about the fall of the entire city.

  From our house in the upper part of Jerusalem, we saw the dike that the Romans built toward the Antonia. But then something happened that the Romans didn’t foresee. Brave soldiers of my people, led by John of Giscala, dug a tunnel under the dike and then set the dike on fire. The dike collapsed, killing hundreds of Roman soldiers. A similar attack was executed by soldiers under the command of Simon bar Giora, and it also had a devastating effect on the Romans.

  At that point in time Titus was shocked. We hoped and prayed that he’ll withdraw but he didn’t have any such plan. Instead, the Romans decided to change their strategy. In three days, they had built a dike all around the city, aiming to starve us to death.

  It worked. I remember how we were all so hungry. I couldn’t fall asleep at night because my belly ached out of hunger. The deprivation affected rich and poor, old people and children.

  “The zealot factions,” my father stated once again. “When they battled each other they also burnt our food supplies. If it wasn’t for their fanaticism, we wouldn’t be starving now.”

  Many people tried to escape Jerusalem, but most of them were caught by the Romans, and they were crucified outside the city wall. It was a chilling scenery. I remember turning to God and asking why he allows such evil to take place. I also remember my father saying, “that’s what they did to Jesus,” but I didn’t know who Jesus was.

  Fatigue and hunger started to affect the defenders, but still, they fought with everything they had. They shot burning arrows at the Romans, threw heave rocks down from the wall at the soldiers trying to climb, and they also spilled hot burning oil on the invaders. After fierce fighting, the Romans conquered the Antonia castle and demolished it.

  When our people saw that the temple was in danger, they forgot all about their hunger and weakness, and everybody, including old people and youth, rushed to fight for the temple. Thousands of citizens rushed to help defend our holiest place of worship; everyone who could hold a weapon, and that included both my parents. That was the last time I’d seen them. I said that I could come and fight next to them, but my mother said that I was too young, and my father said, “don’t even think about it.”

  It was the 9th day of the Jewish month of Av. From my window I saw that the beautiful floor outside the temple was flooded with blood, and piled with dead bodies.

  Then they burned the temple. I heard that the traitor, Josephus, claimed that Titus ordered not to destroy the temple because he thought it was the most magnificent building he’d ever seen, but still, one of his soldiers misunderstood the order, threw a torch and the temple went up in flames. I personally don’t believe that story.

  Eventually, the Roman soldiers made it to our house. I told my little brother and sister to hide, but my sister started to cry, and so they’d found us. I was old enough to be taken to slavery, but the Romans knew my brothers were too little to survive the long journey. So, they slaughtered them with their swards right in front of my eyes.

  Oh, how I hate the Romans. In my long years of slavery, I never stopped praying to God to destroy Rome for what they did to me, to my family, to my country, and for destroying the holy temple. Now I’m old, and I’m ready to die, and I still don’t understand why God allows this evil empire to survive and even thrive. Over the years, I met slaves from many countries, from Egypt, Arabia, and Africa. From Britain, Gaul, and Germania. What they did to us, they did to other counties. Why couldn’t we all unite to annihilate and erase this horrible, and sinful empire from the face of the earth?

  Elisha Ben-Simon.

  Chapter 24

  The SUV slowed down as Ron drove next to a tall metal fence. He stopped in front of a gigantic gate comprised of enormous, tall metal poles that supported two bulky, ornamented metal gate doors. Above the doors, a banner in old English announced: “God’s Land.”

  “We arrived,” Ron said. He honked one time and then sat patiently and waited. Rolling down the windows, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

  After a few quiet minutes, the massive gate opened, and A young man approached the car. “Hey man,” he smiled at Ron, “where have you been?”

  “I had to go to Olympia to run some errands and pick up Michael, our new volunteer.”

  “Greetings, Brother,” The young man said to Michael, “I’m David.”

  “Glad to finally be here,” Michael said to David, who was dressed casually and like Ron, had long hair and beard.

  “David is a computer wizard,” Ron said as he drove past the gate.

  About a hundred yards from the gate, there was an old country, wooden house. Ron kept driving slowly, bypassing the house. Behind the house, there was an old barn, and Ron kept driving on a winding paved road that went up a hill. Michael saw various structures of different shapes and sizes. Some of them looked modern, even fancy, while others seemed more temporary and improvised. Michael saw dome-shaped structures, yurts, and teepees. All the structures were basking in beautifully maintained landscaping which combined native and house plants.

  Ron stopped the car in front of a small wooden cabin. “This will be your place while you’re here,” Ron said. “It’s quite comfortable and has heating and air conditioning. You’ll find the kitchen quite small, but it doesn’t matter since we eat most of our meals in the dining room.

  “Why won’t you make yourself comfortable in there.” Ron looked at his wristwatch. “Today, you already missed lunch, so grab yourself something from what’s in the fridge. In about an hour, Mary will pick you up, and she’ll take you to meet Charles.”

  “Thank you, Ron, for everything,” Michael said, as he was getting off the car and collecting his belongings.

  “You’re most welcome,” Ron said and drove away.

  The cabin appeared comfortable and homey. Michael liked being in a wooden dwelling. The place contained mostly one big room with adjacent dens that served as bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. Just like Ron said, Michael found some products in the refrigerator, and he made himself a delicious cheese sandwich. The weather was nice and he didn’t need heating or cooling, he just opened a window.

  The time was around 1 p.m. when he heard a knock on his door.

  “The pretty lady,” that’s how Ron called Mary Bishop. And indeed, she was. Michael had a hard time defining her beauty, which was a bit mysterious and alluring.

  “Hi Michael,” she said as he opened the door. “How do you like your stay here in God’s Land?” She had a deep and pleasant voice.

  “So far so good,” he answered. “I have no complaints.”

  “Come,” she said, I’ll take you to Charles.

  He stepped out of the cabin and realized that Mary came with a vehicle of some sort. It looked like an open golf cart. There was one seat next to her and space for two or three more people in the back. He sat next to her, and she proceeded and drove up the hill. A light breeze fluttered their hair.

  “Are you from South America?” Michael knew it wasn’t time for small talk, but he was curious.

  “No,” she smiled. “Most people think I am—when they first meet me, but actually, my mother is from Holland, and my father is black.”

  “That explains the blue eyes,” he said.

  She didn’t respond and focused on driving until she pulled into a small driveway of a house that looked just a little bigger than most of the dwellings. In fact, it looked like a modest one-story home.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and
Michael followed her on a pavement. The door wasn’t locked. She entered, and Michael trailed behind her.

  “Charles!” She called. “Michael is here!”

  Within a short time, Charles Bishop rolled in on his wheelchair. Although Michael already talked with him face to face, online, meeting him in person was a different experience. Michael had the feeling that Bishop conveyed splendor; despite his disability, Michael couldn’t but feel deep respect for the man and the way he conducted himself. Immediately, Michael understood why everyone who knew Bishop had so much admiration for him, and why people were willing to follow him even when the road he led them was questionable.

  “Praise be to God, you finally made it over here,” Bishops smiled warmly. He extended both his hands for a handshake, and Michael answered by extending his hands and sensing that bishop’s grip was firm and steady.

  “Praise be.” Perplexed, Michael wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer the greeting. Thank God, Michael thought. At least his upper body is strong and healthy. Michael realized how quickly he was charmed by Charles Bishop.

  Chapter 25

  Take these articles and go and deposit them in the temple in Jerusalem. And rebuild the house of God on its site.

  - Old Testament, Book of Ezra

  “Come, young man,” Charles Bishop said. “Let’s not waste our time.”

  Bishop, Mary, and Michael stepped out of the house. It turned out that the golf cart, had a specialized, electric ramp, so it was quite easy to upload the wheelchair with Charles in it, while the original front seat folded away. Michael set in the back seat.

  Mary drove the vehicle up the hill, in a narrow, winding, paved road. After about a mile, the paved section of the road ended, and Mary continued on a dirt road. She drove the small vehicle in a wooded, peaceful area, when all at once, they came out of the forest and entered a large clearing. And there it was, standing with all its glory in the middle of a green meadow, the temple.