by Bill Myers
IT HAD BEEN BRANDON’S idea to meet at the home of the old Palestinian woman. Actually, he hadn’t even thought about her until he’d stuffed his hands into his pockets and pulled out the card she’d given him with her address. But as soon as he saw it, he knew that was the place.
She lived in the Palestinian village of Silwan, just south of the Mount of Olives. The flat-roofed buildings made of ancient stone and rubble stood two, sometimes three, stories high. They were packed tightly beside each other and clung to the steep hillside. Directly to the west lay the Hinnom Valley, once called Gehenna. According to
Tanya this was where, in the Old Testament, the Israelites had sacrificed their babies to Baal and later, where Judas had hung himself. For Sarah, it seemed everywhere she looked there was history. In fact the taxi ride from the hospital to Silwan had taken them through the Kidron Valley, the very valley Jesus had crossed during his triumphal entrance into the city on Palm Sunday and prior to his arrest five nights later.
“That’s the Garden of Gethsemane,” Tanya said as they passed a church and small olive grove to their left.
The group turned to look and Brandon half-whispered in awe, “That’s where it all began …”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
“That’s where the war was fought … where the fate of the entire world hung in the balance.”
“What about Calvary?”
Brandon shook his head. “The decision to go there, to die to his own will, that war was waged right here.”
“Dying to self,” Sarah said as she looked back out the window, recalling their earlier conversation. “Even Jesus Christ had to do it.”
Brandon nodded. “That’s the only battle that counts.”
Sarah glanced at her husband. There was so much wisdom there now. So much maturity.
The taxi pulled up to the address, and everyone was certain the driver had made a mistake. It was nothing but a garage carved out of a hillside with an impoverished two-story house beside it. But the driver insisted this was the place, and reluctantly the four of them piled out. The sun had already dropped behind the hill as they approached the entrance, a large corrugated door with the address spray painted across the top left corner. Off to one side a patch of wild roses withered from the heat. On the other, a grape arbor was propped up by a barrel used for burning trash.
Katherine banged on the steel door. The reverberating echo set off one or two neighborhood dogs. Sarah looked around. An old bedspring set atop cinder blocks served as a fence separating them from the neighbors. After a louder set of knocks and more barking dogs, the door finally slid open. The hunched woman with the nearly toothless grin greeted them. She’d already met Brandon and Katherine, but not Tanya or Sarah. After carefully shaking each of their hands, she ushered them inside.
It wasn’t much. A tattered throw rug lay across cracked concrete. Two lamps (one without a shade) lit the bright yellow walls. A worn wooden table and three chairs sat in one corner, while the bench seat of an old car served as a sofa against the far wall. But the poverty had little effect upon the woman’s hospitality. They’d barely taken their seats before she disappeared into what must have been the kitchen/bedroom and returned with a large serving tray. On it were four small glasses of coffee with the consistency of grainy syrup, along with four glasses of water to help wash it down.
“Okay.” Tanya turned to Sarah. “You definitely have our attention. Now, what’s going on?”
Sarah finished her sip of coffee, set the glass down, and began. “I don’t think Lucas Ponte … I don’t think he’s with us any longer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Katherine demanded.
“It means that what made up Lucas, his personality, his soul, whatever you want to call it … I believe it’s no longer controlling his body.”
“But he’s alive,” Katherine said, “you just saw him. You said you talked to him.”
“I talked to somebody, but I don’t believe it was him.” She took a breath and continued. “I believe it’s the same personality, the same entity that inhabits and controls Eric.”
“You mean … Heylel?” Katherine asked.
“Lucas Ponte’s brain waves are identical to your son’s when Heylel inhabits him.”
“Long deltas?” Brandon said.
“Exactly.”
“Who is Heylel?” Tanya asked.
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Katherine muttered.
“But he inhabits your son?”
Katherine held her look a moment, then glanced away. Silence stole over the group until Tanya turned back to Sarah. “So you’re saying the Lucas Ponte we know is dead.”
Sarah nodded. “I believe so.”
“And inhabited by this Heylel?”
“That’s only one of his names. I believe he has others.”
“Such as?”
“This is only speculative, there’s no way to prove it, but I believe …” It was harder for Sarah to say than she thought. She backed up and tried again. “I believe what was once Lucas Ponte is now being —”
Katherine finished her sentence. “— controlled by Satan.”
The group turned to her in surprise.
“I was with you in Eric’s room,” she said to Sarah. “I heard his claims. To be honest, I’ve suspected something like that for a while.”
More silence. Finally Brandon spoke, staring at the floor. “The Antichrist.” Uneasy glances were traded across the room. He looked up. “He is the Antichrist that was prophesied to rise up and rule the world.” Turning to Katherine, he continued. “He and the false prophet.”
“Which would be my son,” Katherine flatly concluded. Without waiting for his response she turned to the group. “That’s what Heylel has been promising him from the beginning, to rule the world.”
“And …” Tanya was thinking out loud. “Tomorrow’s installation is …”
Brandon answered. “Tomorrow’s installation is the beginning of their reign.”
Another pause. “Is there any way we can stop it?” Tanya asked. “If this is true, shouldn’t somebody try to stop it?”
“Enter Revelation’s two witnesses,” Katherine said as she turned to Sarah and Brandon.
Sarah said nothing, waiting for Brandon to respond. He began shaking his head. “No …”
Tanya scowled. “But if that’s who you’re supposed to be, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? If you really are the two witnesses, then you have to stand up to him and —”
“No,” Brandon interrupted. “My job” — he threw a glance to Sarah — “our job has been the same as it’s always been. We’re to proclaim truth — through the Word of God and through our lives. Nothing more.”
“But we’re talking the Antichrist here,” Tanya argued. “The great deceiver and destroyer. If you don’t get in there and physically stop him, who will?”
Sarah ventured, “I think what Brandon’s saying is that our weapons are not physical … they never have been.”
Brandon nodded as Katherine quoted, “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.”
“So what’s left?” Tanya demanded.
“What always has been,” Brandon replied. “To warn the world, to prepare the saints of God.”
“Prepare?” Tanya asked. “For what?”
Brandon answered, “For the return of Jesus Christ.” The group exchanged looks. He continued. “Christ is on the brink of returning. But his bride isn’t ready. She needs to repent, to prepare herself.”
“And,” Sarah interjected, “she needs to be warned that Lucas is the counterfeit messiah and not to be followed.”
Brandon nodded. “That’s our job — to proclaim the truth. Nothing more.”
“But how?” Tanya repeated, then suddenly she had an answer. “The videotape! Of course. You can tell them through the tape we made of your message from Turkey!”
Katherine shook her head. “You need more than some tape. I’ve seen thes
e guys operate; they can spin and distort truth any way they want.”
Sarah nodded. “I’m afraid she’s right.”
Katherine continued. “What you need is to present something live and in person, something they can’t come back and twist all up.”
Brandon agreed. “And it has to be done before the installation. Before anyone bows their knee.”
“Or,” Sarah said thoughtfully, “during it.”
“You mean get him up there on the stage, like in L.A.?” Tanya asked. “Get Brandon to prophesy and call down some sort of curse on Ponte?”
Sarah threw another glance at Brandon. The idea literally made him stiffen with fear. Still, it had some merit.
Katherine shook her head. “There’s no way Heylel will let you get close to the stage, much less get on it.”
“Maybe …” Sarah turned back to the group. “But I’ve seen how he operates. And if there’s any residue of Lucas left, I have a pretty good handle on him, as well.”
“Meaning?” Tanya asked.
“Meaning, I might be able to convince him.”
“That’s absurd,” Katherine scoffed. “He’s worked years for this moment. He’s got far too much pride and ambition wrapped up in this to share it with anybody.”
Sarah began to nod. “And that’s the key.”
“What is?”
“His pride and ambition.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If this Heylel really is who he claims to be, who we think he is, what’s his one weakness, what’s his Achilles’ heel?”
The group stared at her blankly.
“His ambition,” Brandon ventured. His voice sounded weaker. Obviously the thought of going back onstage had taken its toll.
“Exactly,” Sarah agreed. “Everything we read about Satan in Scripture … his temptation of Adam and Eve, his promises to Christ, his being kicked out of heaven … everything points to him trying to usurp God’s authority, to a pride and ambition that wants to rule.” She turned back to Katherine. “Look at his promises to your son.”
Katherine agreed. “Pride and ambition … that pretty well covers it.”
Sarah nodded. “Unfortunately, I’ve had a little experience in that area myself.” She continued. “If there was some way we could play off of that pride … ”
“You actually think he’d give Brandon permission to speak?” Tanya asked.
“Only if he thinks he can make a fool out of him,” Katherine answered.
“And out of God,” Sarah added.
Brandon coughed nervously. “Given my past record in front of crowds, I’d say that’s a strong possibility.”
“But it doesn’t matter.” Sarah turned back to him. “All you have to do is deliver the truth. It doesn’t matter how stupid he makes you look or how foolish you feel. It doesn’t matter if he cuts you down or verbally destroys you.”
Brandon held her look, still obviously nervous, but at least understanding. “Because dead people don’t die,” he said.
“Precisely. All that matters is that you speak the truth. That’s all God ever commanded us.”
Brandon swallowed. “And … the rest is up to him.”
“Yes!” Sarah was excited. “Don’t you see? Our strength is that we don’t have to be victorious, we don’t have to win!”
“And Satan’s weakness is …”
“That he has to!”
A moment passed as the group slowly digested the paradox. Sarah caught Brandon’s eye and gave him a small smile of encouragement. He tried to return it, but the fear was obviously too great.
“And what about my tape?” Tanya asked. “Any chance of convincing Lucas or Heylel or whoever to let us play the tape during the broadcast, too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Katherine scoffed.
Tanya countered, “It’s no more ridiculous than winning a war by losing it.”
“You want me to ask Ponte if he’ll also play the tape?” Sarah asked.
“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“And if he says no?”
Tanya grinned. “Ponte’s not the only game in town. I’ve got a few other strings I can pull.”
Another moment passed before Katherine asked, “What about Eric?”
Sarah scowled, thinking it through. “I’m not sure of the logistics … but I doubt even Satan can inhabit two places at once.”
“Only God is omnipresent,” Tanya offered.
“I may be splitting hairs, and maybe it’s only a matter of microseconds, but I believe Heylel probably moves back and forth between your son and Lucas.”
“Then who’s inhabiting Lucas when Heylel is in Eric?”
“Maybe some weaker power, maybe nobody. But you bring up an interesting point … if we can keep them separated, there may be less consolidation of power.”
Katherine nodded. “Lucas thrived off of him in life; now he’s doing it in death.”
Sarah agreed.
“I should keep Eric away from tomorrow’s ceremony, then?”
“Can you do that?”
“I’m still his mother, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know, guys …” Brandon’s voice was thin, the way it always sounded when he was nervous. “To expect Sarah to talk Ponte into letting some hick like me up onstage.” He turned to Tanya. “I mean, you saw me in L.A. And in Turkey I could barely put two sentences together for that tape. And now you want me to get up in front of the whole world?”
“Not you, Brandon,” Sarah answered softly.
He turned to her.
“You’re dead, remember?”
He tried to hold her look, but his eyes faltered. He turned to the rest of the group. “And Tanya, you’re going to try and drop in some tape during an international broadcast?” He rose to his feet and began to pace. “Listen to you people. I mean, who are we kidding? There’s no way we can pull this off.”
Sarah knew he was speaking out of fear. Getting back onstage in front of all those people was his worst nightmare. She glanced around the room. Everyone sat silently, weighing his words, maybe even coming to his same conclusion. It might even be the right one. It certainly made more sense. But still …
Finally, Tanya looked up at him and asked, “So you don’t think we should even try it?”
All eyes turned to Brandon. He had crossed to a small barred window, keeping his back to them. Sarah knew the pressure he felt was enormous, the thought of going back onstage, terrifying. A half minute passed before he finally answered, his back still toward them. “I don’t know if it’s possible or not.” He paused, then continued. “But I know what I’ve always known.” He slowly turned to face the group. “The bride has to be prepared … and she has to be warned of Ponte’s seduction.”
“And all of these ‘impossible odds’?” Sarah asked.
His voice was softer now as he answered. “You said it yourself. If we fail, all we do is wind up looking foolish. Our job is to proclaim the truth … the rest is up to the Lord.”
“The whole thing is ludicrous,” Katherine muttered.
Brandon turned to her. “Probably … but what other course do we have?”
She started to respond, then glanced away. It was obvious she had nothing further to say.
Once again silence stole over the group. Finally, Brandon repeated himself quietly, but with more determination. “Our job is to proclaim the truth. The rest is up to the Lord.”
For Sarah, one of Jerusalem’s many surprises was the close proximity of everything. According to Tanya even the walk from Silwan to the King David Hotel was less than thirty minutes. That’s why she’d decided to take it. It would give her a chance to clear her head, to sort through the day’s events … and to prepare for the upcoming talk with Lucas or Heylel or whoever he was. If his prediction was correct he was probably already out of the hospital and back at the hotel, where she should speak to him as soon as possible.
Katherine had asked if she could accompany her. Of course Sarah had a
greed. From what she’d seen of Eric’s iron will and explosive temper, she figured Katherine’s task would be as difficult as hers, and she’d probably need just as much time to think things through. Tanya had taken a taxi downtown to Channel Two to check on the progress of the editing. And Brandon, at everyone’s insistence, had agreed to stay behind at the old woman’s home. Everyone had their assignments, and his was to prepare for the unlikely possibility of speaking tomorrow.
The moon was full, and because of the growing impurities in the atmosphere, it cast a dull red glow over their shoulders as the two of them made their way along the single-lane road that passed through the Hinnom Valley. To their right towered the south wall of the Old City, and to their left was a steep ridge with occasional cliffs.
“So this is where the Israelites sacrificed their kids,” Katherine mused. “What did Tanya call it, ‘The Valley of Sorrows’?”
Sarah looked around them. The narrow ravine was silent and tranquil, the air still warm and smelling of dust and sage. There was no trace of the suffering that had filled this valley so many thousands of years ago.
“I wonder what that must have felt like,” Katherine said, “sacrificing your own kid.” Sarah turned to her as the woman continued thinking. “Giving up your child’s life in the belief that you’re securing the safety of millions.”
Sarah wasn’t sure what she was saying, but she didn’t like the sound of it. “Katherine …”
Katherine turned away, looking up at the cliffs. “He’s a monster, Sarah. My son is a killer. He’s killed before and he’ll kill again and he’ll keep on killing. Only it won’t be by ones or twos. Soon it will be by the thousands, maybe millions.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Of course I do. And so do you. But if somebody could stop him —”
“Katherine …”
“Were the mothers’ actions here really so despicable … sacrificing one life in the belief that they could save millions?”
“Katherine, what are you saying?”
At last she turned to face her, and for the first time Sarah could remember, there were tears in the woman’s eyes. “He’s my baby … He’s all I’ve got.”
Sarah took her arm. “I know. I know … But there’s got to be some other way.”
