by Andy Andrews
Gazing steadily into David’s eyes, Gabriel said, “You call him Noah. In Sumeria, he was called Ziusudra. In Babylon, Uta-Napishtim. The Greeks said his name was Deucalion. In Armenia, he was Xisuthrus. On the continent of India, they called him Menue—”
“Do you know them all?” David interrupted.
“Of course,” Gabriel replied.
Nodding, David echoed the answer, “Of course.” Taking a deep breath, he returned to the subject of the summit. “So we are to gather—all of us, all the Travelers—and do what?”
“Together, you will convene with the opportunity to examine the accumulated wisdom of the past in order to determine your future. Or if there is even to be a future on this earth—”
David’s mouth was agape. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Interrupting, he said, “I don’t understand . . .”
“Were it my choice, David Ponder,” Gabriel said calmly, “I might have turned my back on you years ago. But He still has hope, though His heart is heavy and patience decidedly thin.”
Gabriel looked closely at David as if deciding whether to reveal more. “The fact,” he finally said, “is that humanity is sinking of its own accord.”
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Gabriel shot back. “For many years, you have progressively turned away from the real truth and in its stead have attempted to create your own version of a ‘truth’ that your intellect can comprehend. In so doing, you have become increasingly hungry for the attributes of destruction— an unquenchable thirst for riches, a disdain for your fellow man, and power for its own sake.”
“So what you mean by ‘humanity is sinking of its own accord—,’” David began.
Gabriel finished the thought. “What I mean is that this time, quite simply, you are providing your own flood. Certainly you are aware that some of the so-called progress you have pursued now enables you to destroy all life on this planet in several different ways, many times over, and with varying choices of speed. You don’t need Him to make it rain.”
Stunned, David asked, “Is there anything that can be done?”
“Of course,” Gabriel responded. “That is the very reason for the gathering of Travelers. But you must be aware of the truth in regard to your question: you have always had a choice. Since the very beginning of time, you have always possessed the gift and power of free will. Individually and collectively, every human’s ultimate destination is a matter of choice— acceptance or rejection, yes or no, reward or punishment, life or death.
“If this council of Travelers is to succeed in its quest, you must seek to rediscover the path that has been abandoned. You must attempt to relight the darkness that has been allowed to overtake you. You must once again fight with the weapons of wisdom and persuasion to reclaim the authority that has been yielded.”
David’s mind worked furiously to fathom the information he was being given. “Is there a specific question we must answer?” he asked.
“Yes,” Gabriel replied, “and when the assembly is gathered, that question will be put to you. You will also be given specific rules and a constraint of time within which the question must be answered.”
“A constraint of time?” David blurted. “This seems so important that I can’t imagine a limit—”
“It is no wonder you try His patience, David Ponder,” the archangel scoffed. “A few moments ago, you hoped your time on earth was at an end. Now you argue about time’s restriction.”
“I’m sorry,” David murmured. “You’re right, of course. It isn’t as if we haven’t been given time already.”
Without acknowledging that statement, Gabriel asked, “Do you have any more questions?”
“No,” David said. “I suppose I will find out anything else there is to know when we get to . . . well, when we get to wherever it is we are going.” Taking a deep breath and attempting to smile, he added, “It calms me a bit to know that you are leading this meeting.”
Gabriel extended his right wing just a bit and, with his hand, brushed something from it. “On the contrary, David Ponder,” he said, still looking at his wing. “I merely stated that I would facilitate the summit. I am not the leader of this quest. My charge is to establish guidelines for the search, mark the boundary of time available for discussion, and formally issue the question the Travelers must answer.”
“Oh,” David said, a bit surprised. “Is there to be a leader? I mean, has a leader already been chosen?”
“Yes,” Gabriel replied as he once again gazed around the room.
David raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, waiting expectantly, though from experience he knew that the archangel pointedly refused to answer even an obvious question until the question was actually asked.
“Okay,” David prompted, trying not to let his impatience show, “who is the person who will lead this summit for the Travelers?”
With that question, Gabriel turned his full attention to David and said simply, “You.”
David paused as his mouth dropped open. He closed it and grinned. Then, just as quickly, he frowned deeply, finally stammering, “Me? You have got to be joking!”
Not uttering a sound or even blinking, Gabriel remained motionless, looking at the seventy-four-year-old man before him, who seemed about to have a heart attack.
David hesitated a moment, decided Gabriel wasn’t going to speak, and turned his back on the archangel with his hands on his hips. Immediately, he spun around and started again. “Me? Oh come on! If this whole thing hadn’t happened to me before, I wouldn’t even believe it now. I’d just crawl into bed and wait to wake up. But here you are again, and now you’re telling me that . . .” David pulled up short and scowled. “Me?” he said again. “Holy mother of God!”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
Hastily, David apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just . . . Me?”
“Yes, David Ponder,” Gabriel said calmly, “you.”
Taking a deep breath and walking a quick circle around his desk, David attempted to match the archangel’s demeanor.
“Listen, Gabriel . . .” Noticing the eyebrow rising again, David started over. “I mean, please listen to me, Gabriel. I accept that everything you tell me is true. Okay. That means—at least, I am assuming that means—that every person in history who has ever been a Traveler will be at this summit conference.”
Gabriel nodded.
Striving to keep his wits about him and proceed with his line of reasoning, David rubbed his suddenly clammy hands on his pants legs and continued. “Okay. Okay,” he said, struggling to stay with his line of thought as his mind whirled out of control, “if every Traveler who ever existed is present at this conference, that means that for sure Christopher Columbus will be there. Harry Truman. Abraham Lincoln?”
Again Gabriel nodded.
“And holy . . . King Solomon? Gabriel! He was the wisest man in the history of the world! And I’m supposed to lead this meeting? Why me?!”
Unfazed by the outburst and waiting a moment to ensure that David was finished, Gabriel answered evenly. “David Ponder, you have been chosen to lead this forum for three reasons.
“First, you are the only Traveler currently living in earth’s present time period. Thus, theoretically, the results of this assembly should matter more to you.
“Second, you have been judged extremely effective in utilizing the wisdom you gathered as a Traveler.
“Last—and perhaps most important—you are the only Traveler who was ever chosen to represent the common man.”
David frowned. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said.
For the first time since his arrival, Gabriel moved from where he had been standing. He walked to a position behind the desk and motioned for David to stand next to him. Touching the tobacco pouch, then each of the Seven Decisions in turn, Gabriel began to explain. “Do you remember, David Ponder, when we first met, I informed you of your significance in the lo
ng history of Travelers?” The archangel paused and looked carefully into David’s eyes, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I do remember,” David responded. “I’ve thought about what you told me many times. You said that I was the last Traveler. You said that after me, there would not be another.”
“That is correct,” Gabriel said. “What you did not know at that time is that you were deemed ordinary. All Travelers who preceded you were either already remarkable human specimens or they had greatness in their sights.
“You, on the other hand, were an ideal example of the human race. You were uncertain of your life’s purpose, inconsistent in your actions and attitudes, and angry about it all. At the instant of your life’s most critical crossroad, you were chosen to represent your fellow man. You were given the gift of a travel through the ages.
“In the years that followed, your search for wisdom continued. And though, like all humans, your road was peppered with failure, you prudently used even your failures to advance wisdom’s cause. And you did this not only for yourself, but also for others. You have generously shared what you have learned and what you have become.
“Because of what you have accomplished and who you have become, David Ponder, you are now acknowledged— even by the other Travelers—as the greatest of them all.”
David was thunderstruck. “There’s no way,” he stammered. “I can’t believe that the other Travelers even know who I am. And that they consider me the . . . well, I can’t even say it! That’s just not possible!”
Placing his hands on David’s shoulders, Gabriel said, “I speak only the truth, David Ponder. It is for this reason alone that the last Traveler has been chosen to lead the final summit.”
David couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t know what he would have done with the breath anyway. He had nothing left to say. Finally, able to speak at last, David said simply, “Okay.” Then, “Well, Gabriel, when do we leave?”
Removing his hands from David’s shoulders, the archangel reached behind the older man and clasped his waist tightly. With his left wing, Gabriel covered David from the back of his head to his lower legs as he raised the right wing slowly above them. In one mighty stroke, Gabriel drew his wing suddenly to the floor, thrusting them up like a rocket, through the ceiling and into the night sky. The archangel, with his head tucked closely to David’s, whispered into his ear, “Right now.”
CHAPTER 3
David remembered a sensation of surging upward and seeing bursting streaks of colored light before he passed out. As he began to regain consciousness, he found himself unable to move or even open his eyes, but he was intensely aware of extreme speed and a sound like none he had ever heard. And it was not a pleasant sound, resonating with a low rumble like the aftershock of an explosion mixed with the shrill high-end whine of a jet engine.
Though nauseated by the noise and acceleration, David was relieved to feel Gabriel’s arms still locked around him. Try as he might, however, he could not think clearly.
Colorful dreams or visions battered their way into his mind, materializing suddenly and disappearing with the speed of light. He saw his first house. Then Jenny, his daughter, as a toddler taking her first steps . . . King Solomon’s throne room . . . the Dodge Colt he had wrecked before his first travel, his parents as a young couple . . . his last kiss with Ellen as she left for Austin, followed inexplicably by jumbled scenes from their wedding and her funeral.
As if he were high above the action, David witnessed Chamberlain’s charge at Gettysburg. He watched as his shaky hand signed the bankruptcy papers, and he saw himself strolling Big Reef Beach on Peter Island. David watched in horror as Lincoln shifted in his chair in the booth at Ford’s Theatre, a dark figure behind him, reaching out . . .
And once again he saw Ellen, beautiful Ellen, in the blue dress he liked so much. “Honey,” she said, extending her hand to touch him, but oddly, at the same time, drifting up and away, “I am depending on you. I am depending on you. I am depending on you . . .”
“David Ponder,” Gabriel said suddenly, “we have arrived.”
Opening his eyes, David’s mind cleared. He was, he noted, already seated at the head of a rectangular table with chairs set on a fine, purple linen rug. Taking a quick glance around, David could not see anything else nearby—not even walls.
The floor, which continued into the darkness beyond the table, was hardwood and had been polished to a high finish. Immediately, David decided that there had never been a floor to equal this one. The planks were enormous, obviously cut from large trees. Every grain of the burnished timber was distinct, and the seams between the massive slats were filled with . . . Well, if it isn’t real gold, David thought, it certainly looks like gold.
Aware of a glass in his hand, David saw that it contained a clear liquid. Raising it to Gabriel, he asked, “Water?”
With an amused expression, the archangel answered, “Of course,” and motioned for his guest to drink.
David did so immediately. Returning the glass to the table, he stood and practically fell back into the chair, looking at his host with alarm.
“Dizziness is the word I believe you use for that sensation,” Gabriel explained matter-of-factly. “It will pass momentarily.” The archangel moved behind David, causing him to twist to his right in the chair. “I will leave you now for a short time,” he said. “Rest if you wish.”
“When will I meet the others?” David asked. “When will we begin?”
“Soon,” Gabriel answered and turned, walking directly away from the head of the table toward a magnificent door that illuminated as he approached. The door was made entirely of beautiful stone—marble or granite, David assumed—and shimmered with veins of green and silver and white. He had never seen anything like it and was awed, but not surprised, when the archangel simply laid his palm on the door and it opened. Gabriel’s hand came to rest where a handle or knob might otherwise have been situated, but the stone appeared almost weightless as it smoothly swung away from the room.
Intense, white light radiated from the other side as the door opened, causing David to shield his eyes with a hand. Gabriel, however, simply walked through the doorway and turned back toward David. That particular visual perspective of the archangel’s outline, surrounded by light, was a vision David wanted to remember forever. It was a sight that took his breath away.
Gabriel was still for a moment before repeating his last word. “Soon,” he said, and the massive door slowly closed.
Intrigued with his surroundings, David cautiously got to his feet, grateful that his equilibrium had returned. He was not in the least bit afraid and chuckled as he acknowledged that fact to himself. On the other hand, David’s excitement level was at an all-time high. He was eager, but somewhat nervous, to meet the other participants. And while he still wasn’t fully confident about his own ability to contribute, much less lead, David felt certain that the wisdom these Travelers brought to the table would quickly solve whatever question Gabriel might ask.
That was another thing David was curious about: what was the question? His mind did somersaults around the idea. I have a question about a question, David thought, amused with himself, and I don’t even know the question!
Eager to explore his surroundings and assuming it was permissible to do so, David walked first to the door Gabriel had used. There was, he noted, no other choice. It was the only door in the room. The door was shrouded in darkness, but the first step David took in its direction seemed to turn on a light. David looked up and was not surprised to find that he could not locate the source of the light. It didn’t seem to emanate from any particular place. The light was simply there.
David smiled as he neared the door and the light became brighter. It was exactly the same kind of light that had seemed so incredible to him years ago, in “the place that never was,” when he had first encountered Gabriel.
The door was as large as David had first thought, maybe larger. It was framed in rich, dark wood that had been
carved into strong shapes with soft edges. The frame was beautiful, but as David looked closely, he knew there was no way on earth that any wooden frame—even one that had been reinforced—could support the gigantic stone door. That’s exactly right, David thought to himself, as he took one last look and turned again toward the room. No way on earth . . .
After a few steps, David paused between the table and the door. A quick glance behind him was all it took to see that the light on the door had dimmed. Again, he shook his head in wonder and tried to concentrate on what lay before him.
The table, like everything else he had seen, was one of a kind. It was a simple yet fascinating design that would have been equally at home in a palace or a workshop. It had been constructed, David saw at once, without nails. Wooden pegs and carved grooves fit together perfectly in a pattern that not only attached the table legs but joined the pieces of wood forming the top.
It had been sanded, rubbed, and oiled by hand, David knew, and as he ran his fingers along the table’s edge, he also saw the elegant beveling that had been done by someone with patience and care. No machine ever touched this table, David mused.
The chairs had been created to match and were as beautiful and unpretentious as the table. Three sat along each side. One end had been left empty, making the head of the table a foregone conclusion, even though that particular chair was no larger than the others and all seven were cushioned similarly. David touched the top of one of the chair backs, admiring the precise woodwork. Each had been hand carved, duplicating the table’s edge.
After taking the time to appreciate the craftsmanship, David moved to sit at the table. He had no desire to explore the darkness beyond what he could see and thought he might take a moment to gather his wits. Disregarding the place he had initially occupied, David carried his glass of water beyond that chair, passed another seat, and chose the next position down—the middle chair on the left side.
David took a sip from the water glass and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he tried to clear his mind but found it difficult to ignore his current location, which was . . . where? He didn’t know, but smiled as he thought he might get close with a couple of guesses. How much time has passed since Gabriel appeared in my office? David wondered. Fifteen minutes? Fifteen hours? He wasn’t sure.
