The Christ Clone Trilogy - Book Three: ACTS OF GOD (Revised & Expanded)

by James Beauseigneur

  “Earlier there was some concern expressed by those scheduled to arrive later, that by the time they reached Petra the battle would be over. To allay those fears, Secretary-General Goodman has gone out of his way to stress the importance of everyone joining their mental energy together to defeat the KDP in a single blow, and he has vowed that the battle will not begin until the last of those gathered here arrives at Petra. Additionally, we are told that half of the military will remain here at Megiddo to bring up the rear of the formation.”

  Jane Reed held her hand to her ear and placed a finger on her earbud. The gesture was more to indicate to the viewers that she was getting a message than it was to actually help her hear. “I understand that the secretary general has arrived along with all ten members of the Security Council, who will accompany this expedition to Petra. The secretary general is about to address those assembled,” she relayed. “The word we are getting is that this will be a very brief statement. We’ll take you there now.”

  The scene changed to a temporary stage set above the valley on the side of the mount of Megiddo, where Christopher was approaching the microphone. A deafening cheer erupted, and every conceivable noisemaker was employed to add to the sound of spontaneous celebration as people danced and laughed and reveled in the moment. It was fifteen minutes before the sound died down enough for Christopher to begin.

  “I do not have words,” Christopher began at last, speaking in the universal language the world had first heard from Jerusalem, “that can sufficiently express the deep sense of appreciation and gratitude as well as excitement I feel that so many would come and join in this noble effort.” Again the sound of sustained cheers reverberated across the valley as those in attendance celebrated their own participation and the participation of those around them.

  “Today we go to Petra!” Christopher said, not waiting for the applause to entirely wane. “By noon Monday, we will have forever thrown open the doors of the prison that has held us, and nailed shut for all time the coffin of our jailers: the KDP, Yahweh, and their followers.”

  The crowd roared its approval, many sounding horns or beating drums or banging on whatever they could find to add to the din.[234]

  “Onward for Humankind!” Christopher shouted. “Onward for ourselves! And onward to victory!”

  Petra

  Inside the walls of Petra the high priest had called an assembly. This was the first time in the three and a half years they had been here that all of the people of Petra — Jews, Jewish Believers, and KDP — had met together. Emotions were understandably high. They were well aware of the immense armies from the east and west that were now marching to destroy them.

  Chaim Levin had prayed and fasted and studied, and then prayed and fasted and studied some more in preparation for this day. On matters of great importance, normally he would talk with his council to seek their guidance on how to proceed. This time was different. His decision couldn’t be made based on majority rule: There was a right answer and a wrong answer, and he would have to trust God to reveal which was which.

  Nor had he discussed his decision with the council after he had made it: On such a decision, he would not be swayed by the words of men. The council would learn of his decision along with everyone else. Then they, like everyone else, could decide whether he had acted correctly and what their response would be.

  Still, he hadn’t fully envisioned this moment. With more than a hundred million people coming in his direction, bent on destruction, he couldn’t help but draw the obvious comparison to Moses as he stood on the bank of the Red Sea with Pharaoh’s army in pursuit.

  He didn’t know how his declaration would be received by those assembled here, but as he looked out over the sea of faces he wondered if like Moses, his leadership would be challenged in the face of this impending threat.

  Benjamin Cohen had tried to assure him that his words would be received well: “Prophecy demands it,” he had said.

  It didn’t really matter: He had to speak what he knew to be true.

  Sam Newberg was firmly of the opinion that most of the people of Petra had already come to the same conclusion as their high priest. They had witnessed the same miraculous events unfolding for the past seven years. They had watched as John and Cohen were resurrected. They had eaten the daily manna. And they had witnessed the plagues falling on everyone but them.

  More important, they had lived here for nearly three and a half years, side by side with those who called themselves Jewish Believers in Messiah. They had seen the love and selfless kindness that these Jewish Believers lived out on a daily basis. They wanted what these people had, and they were only waiting for their high priest to say it was alright to accept it.

  These were not the faces of those who had challenged Moses; rather they were the faces of those who had followed Joshua across the Jordan into the Promised Land.[235]

  So that his address could be seen and heard by all, Chaim Levin would speak from atop Umm Al Biyara, where a sound system had been set up to carry his words. As all the appropriate formalities were concluded, Levin looked out over the silent assembly. He was suddenly more aware than he had ever been of the awesome responsibility that rested on his shoulders as Israel’s high priest.

  Opening his Bible to the words of the prophet Isaiah, he began to read a passage that is never read publicly in the synagogue because it does not appear in a single rabbinic anthology of readings for the Sabbath:

  Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

  Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

  He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken. He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth.

  Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand. After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.[236]

  Lárnax, Cyprus

  The eighty-mile flight over the Mediterranean from the mainland of Turkey was farther than any of them had ever flown at a single stint. Now, after resting the night, they continued their journey, leaving the southeastern corner of the island. Had they understood that it would be more than twice the first distance before they would see land again, they might have turned back. But they didn’t understand, nor did they know their destination or their purpose. All they knew was that they must fly in this direction.

  Babylon

  The time for discretion had passed. The warning from the sky to flee Babylon had come the previous day, and no one knew how much longer they had to make good their escape. Many ha
d already been caught trying to leave and were immediately executed. Still, the prospect of piling into the back of a produce truck and making a desperate attempt to go unnoticed past armed guards at one of the city gates seemed a pretty good one compared to the alternative.

  And so they took the risk, leaving their hiding places in broad daylight, coming to the meeting place, cramming into the back of the truck like sardines in a can or commuters on a subway.

  Among those hoping to get on the truck, Youcef Nadarkhani, his sister, and mother struggled to stay together. At first it seemed impossible there would be enough room for them, they were so far back in the line, but soon all three were on board.

  “There’s no more room,” Joel Felsberg said, as he pulled shut the door on the truck and locked it.

  “Please, please,” called several voices from among those still in line.

  “I’m sorry,” Ed Blocher answered. “If we make it out of the city alive, we’ll try to come back to get you.”

  “How will we know if you’ve made it?” someone asked.

  “Listen for gunshots,” Felsberg answered as he looked at the truck’s tires and suspension and shook his head. If the guards were observant enough to notice, they’d know right away the truck wasn’t empty and they’d all be dead. “If we make it out okay,” Felsberg continued, “there won’t be any gunshots. It’ll take us about two hours to get back for another load . . . assuming, of course, we can get back in.” It wasn’t the answer anyone wanted to hear, but for now they could only pray and wait and hope that they wouldn’t be discovered as they made their way back to their hiding places.

  The truck lurched forward, and the weight of those inside shifted, pinning Youcef and his little sister against the back door. The shift was only temporary, and as everyone attempted to right themselves, compensating for the movement, the truck turned a corner, and the process was repeated, pinning those who were on the wall opposite the turn beneath the crush of human cargo. People looked for something to hold on to, but except for a few tie ends on the side walls, there was nothing. Those too young to understand what was happening inside the darkened vault began crying, while those who realized that the noise could get them all killed tried desperately to calm and quiet them.

  As Joel Felsberg pulled the truck up to the checkpoint, he rolled down the window to speak to the guard. “Manifest,” the guard said.

  Felsberg handed him the document with its forged signature, showing that the produce they had brought in that morning had been delivered. The guard then checked the manifest in his hand held system to ensure that the produce had in fact been delivered. Felsberg’s computer hacking had included not only the entry of his false manifest: He had also included a triggering mechanism that would automatically create a record of the completed delivery one hour after the initial security check indicated they had entered the city. Three hours later, all records of the manifest would disappear from the system altogether.

  So it was that the guard found everything in order. Nine out of ten times the next step for the guard was to have the driver open the back of the truck to show that it was empty. That’s why no attempts had been made in the past to smuggle people out. Felsberg, Blocher, and everyone in the back of the truck were praying this would be that one in ten times that the guards would forego that requirement and let them go on their way.

  “Okay,” the guard said in a tone that said their prayers had been answered. Joel Felsberg breathed a silent sigh. Ed Blocher could barely contain his relief.

  But then suddenly the guard’s eyes shifted to the back of the truck. Had he heard something?

  Inside, Youcef Nadarkhani cringed and put his hand back over his sister’s mouth. “Shhhhh,” he urged, pleadingly.

  “Just a minute,” the guard ordered. “Open the back.”

  Felsberg’s foot twitched above the gas pedal. He knew this might happen and yet he was unsure what to do. What could he do? If he made a run for it, the guards would fire at the truck, killing many of those inside, and the chase vehicles would certainly catch them before those still alive could be let out to scatter and try to make it on their own.

  But if he opened the back, they’d all be arrested, and most would be dead before sunset. The only hope — and it could hardly be called that at all — was that those inside, realizing the situation, might jump out and rush the guards, and though many would be killed, perhaps a few would survive to escape the city.

  Felsberg got out of the truck. Though he prayed, his prayer didn’t consist of words. He prayed with raw emotion, his mind too busy planning what to do while trying not to let on by his actions that anything was wrong.

  Scanning the area for any path of escape, he was startled by the sight of human heads displayed on pikes next to a sign that read, “There is no escape for the enemies of Humankind.” This hadn’t been there a few hours before and he guessed the victims had been caught in a recent failed attempt to flee the city. Certain that the same fate awaited him and those in his truck, he clenched his teeth for the conflagration to come, unlocked the door, and threw it open as quickly as possible to give those who could fight a chance to get out.

  Nothing happened.

  The door slid open but no one jumped out to fight. There was no sound of gunfire, no shouting.

  “Okay,” the guard said.

  Joel Felsberg was frozen, afraid to look at the faces of those he had gathered up only to deliver them to their executioners. But what had the guard said? “Okay”? . . . “Okay”?

  The guard had already walked away. Felsberg didn’t understand. Had he not seen? At last he looked for himself. The truck was empty. Felsberg closed his eyes and then looked again. It was still empty. Slowly, not knowing what else to do, he stepped up on the truck’s bumper and pulled the door closed and locked it shut. As he started back to the front of the truck, he ran through the events that had led up to this moment, trying to understand. Had he just imagined loading all those people? Was he dreaming?

  Then he noticed something: the tires. Acting as though he had dropped something, he leaned over and picked up a pebble while turning to look at the truck’s suspension. The truck looked like it was loaded with lead.

  “What happened?” Ed Blocher asked when Felsberg got back in the cab.

  “I don’t know,” he answered shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

  To keep from arousing suspicion, Joel drove the truck four miles from the city before he stopped. When he finally did, he jumped from the cab and ran to the back, followed by Ed Blocher. Unsure of what he would find, Joel unlocked the door and slid it open.

  “Are we there already?” asked Youcef Nadarkhani.

  Joel stopped breathing as everything in him took on the single focus of trying to understand. At last becoming light-headed, he gasped and in a moment began to laugh and cry at once. They were all there. “Not yet,” he answered, dumbfounded. “Just a few more miles.”

  When they returned to the cab, Ed Blocher again asked what had happened at the checkpoint.

  “I’m not sure you’d believe it,” Joel replied. “I’m not sure I believe it myself. But right now we’ve got to deliver these people and go back for another load. I have a feeling this is going to be a very good day.”

  Chapter 23

  History’s Penumbra

  Saturday, September 19, 4 N.A.

  Petra

  As his family listened quietly, Michael Feingold, like thousands of other fathers and mothers in Petra, read the words of the prophet Hosea to his family:

  Then I will go back to my place until they admit their guilt. And they will seek my face; in their misery they will earnestly seek me.

  Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence.[237] Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”[238]

  In accordance with the instruction of their high priest, the people of Petra cloistered together in their family tents and sought forgiveness as they recalled their individual and collective rebellion against God. They recalled their animosity to others, their vanities and chasing after things of this world, their selfish acts, their lack of trust in their God.

  They remembered too, some of the many false messiahs throughout the centuries that their people had followed:[239] Simon b00000000ar Kokhba,[240] Moses of Crete,[241] Abraham ben Samuel Abulafia,[242] Sabbatai Zevi,[243] the numerous lesser false messiahs,[244] and in the late twentieth century, Menachem Mendel Schneerson.[245]

  All in all, Samuel Newberg’s assessment had been correct. Many of the people of Petra had only been waiting for the word from their high priest before accepting Yeshua, Jesus, as their Messiah. Others, upon hearing the high priest’s words and reasoning and reading from the prophets, wondered only how they had missed for so long what now seemed so obvious.[246]

  Abu Zanimah, Egypt

  Some had come more than 1,500 miles. They flew endlessly it seemed, toward the northwest, in numberless flocks over the great continent of Africa. Stopping here to rest for the night on the eastern bank of the Gulf of Suez before continuing on in the morning, the famished creatures scavenged for whatever they could find. Soon there would be food enough, but they wouldn’t reach it if they didn’t maintain their strength for the journey.

  Sunday, September 20, 4 N.A.

  The Seir Mountains

  Thirteen hundred and fifty meters above sea level, atop Jebel Haroun, in the Seir Mountains overlooking Petra and all that surrounds it, Dennis Kreimeyer watched in amazement as the vanguard of the UN forces swept toward him from the east and west like two massive storms. Peering through binoculars revealed only that the storms stretched on to the horizon and seemed to have no end.