Fire Of Heaven 03 - Fire of Heaven
Page 38
And now this …
Again Frank shook his head. This was a perfect example of the old order that Chairman Ponte was talking about — a perfect example of what happens when someone lets himself get too carried away with all that God stuff. Frank crossed over to the sofa and rummaged through the dirty clothes and magazines until he found the remote. He pointed it toward the TV and shut it off. He could not, he would not watch anymore.
Tisha Youngman could not stop the tears as she watched the broadcast from the Motel 6 room. Her friend for the night, some guy whose name she’d already forgotten, but who had more than enough access to the smack she’d fallen in love with so many months before, lay beside her, snoring, sweating, naked — sprawled out like some giant beached whale. But she didn’t notice. Her mind was a thousand miles away. Back home, back when she was a little girl, back when she was sitting with her momma and daddy in church …
“Let my love break your grip on inequity. Let my love strip you of your sin. Turn and run into my arms that I may hold you as I once did. Come to me that we may again share the intimacies of husband and wife. That we may again be one.”
Brandon’s picture and voice continued to be broadcast in homes and countries all around the world. As the speech drew to its conclusion, those who felt drawn to him listened thoughtfully while those who disagreed counted him even more of a lunatic.
“For when we are one … when you are lost in my arms and when our hearts are intertwined, all of creation watches in awe. When we are one, delighting in each other’s pleasure, there is nothing, absolutely nothing you can withhold from me, and nothing I will withhold from you.”
On the TV screen, the taped Brandon Martus finally lowered his head. His message had concluded. And viewers all around the globe were forming opinions. There was no longer room for feigned impartialities, there was no longer an excuse for wavering indecision. The time had come. Now, everyone would have to make a choice. One way or the other, they would all have to decide.
EPILOGUE
WILLIAM ZIMMERMAN HATED THE assignment. Standing in the oppressive heat at four hours a shift, eyes burning from the smoke. He knew it was strictly disciplinary and he certainly had no one to blame but himself. Truth be told, it was a small price to pay for the astonishing lapse of judgment his security team had displayed over at the King David as well as here on the Mount. How they had let someone like Salman Kilyos slip past them was beyond him. But that was three days ago. And, as always, the brilliant Lucas Ponte had managed to take an ugly chain of events and turn it into something positive. Hence the two glass caskets to Zimmerman’s immediate right … and their unspoken warning to any who had similar ideas of opposing the new regime.
Carefully, Zimmerman scrutinized each member in the passing line. From dawn to dusk they came, enduring the sweltering heat, sometimes breathing through handkerchiefs because of the smoke … every age, every race, every nationality. They’d already passed through security and the metal detectors — a requirement for anyone now visiting the Temple Mount — but emotions still ran high. Any one of them could break past the ropes, race across the fifteen feet of stone pavement, and attack the two coffins. In fact, this morning alone there had been two such attempts. Not that he could blame them. In record time these two corpses, resting under the white nylon canopy, had become the symbol for all that was wrong and oppressive with the old world order.
That’s why Ponte, at the Cartel’s insistence, had agreed to put their bullet-riddled bodies on display — here, less than a hundred yards away from the construction of the new temple. It was a riveting symbol of new versus old. The giant beams of steel, the powerful cranes, the raw vitality, the hustle, bustle, and camaraderie of building the new … versus the silence, the decaying remains, and the inevitable destruction of the old.
In line, one or two people had started to look up. At first Zimmerman paid little attention, until more and more began tilting back their heads and shading their eyes. Finally he stepped out from under the canopy to see for himself. It was only a cloud. White and puffy, no different from any other cloud. Except it was the only one in the sky … and it was growing. At least that’s what he first thought. But the longer he watched, the more he realized that the cloud wasn’t growing … it was approaching.
By now all of the crowd was murmuring and staring. And for good reason. Not only was the cloud approaching, but as it drew closer it was possible to see some sort of glow radiating from inside. Even in the bright midmorning sun, light was clearly visible. It was a remarkable phenomenon. Unfortunately, Zimmerman had become so engrossed in it that he did not see who had sneaked up to the coffins and suddenly struck both of their glass tops.
But somebody had. That was the only explanation for their simultaneous shattering as they broke into a thousand spiderwebs that crumpled and rained down on top of the bodies inside. The crowd gasped. Some cried out in surprise.
Zimmerman raced the five or six paces back to the coffins, preparing to apprehend the culprit. But he could find no one. He glanced over at his partner, who was searching the other side with the same lack of success. And then he saw it … the shifting of broken glass inside the casket. A little at first and then more and more. Something was moving. The corpse’s arm. Both of the arms. No, it was the entire body. It was sitting up!
Zimmerman held his fear in check. He’d heard stories of corpses doing similar things. Sometimes when the tendons dry, they contract the larger muscles, literally moving the body or, in extreme cases, causing it to sit up. That’s all this was. He glanced over at the other casket, the woman’s. Her body was doing the same thing. A remarkable coincidence. Still, that’s all this was, a coincidence.
At least that’s what he thought until the corpse raised its arms and began brushing the broken glass off of its face … then finally opened its eyes. Now, Zimmerman could only stare in astonishment as the body put both of its hands on the edge of the casket and eased itself up and out of the container.
Beyond the ropes, the crowd panicked — shouting, running for protection. Zimmerman was unsure what to do. Yell out orders for them to stop? Demand that they stay calm? And what about the corpse? Should he order it to get back into its casket?
By now the body was standing. It was still in its bloodstained clothes, the bullet holes clearly visible. Then to Zimmerman’s greater astonishment, the head slowly turned toward him. It was all the guard could do to hold his ground. But the gaze was not zombielike or unseeing. This person was now alive. Fully. In fact, he was looking deeper into Zimmerman than he had ever been looked into before — searching him, probing his mind, his heart. An expression of pity slowly filled the face … as if what he’d seen greatly saddened him. Then, just as slowly, he turned and started toward the other coffin.
Zimmerman could not move. He stood frozen, dumbfounded, as Brandon Martus arrived at his wife’s casket. Zimmerman threw a look at his partner who was undergoing equal shock and paralysis of action. Now Martus was reaching out to his wife, smiling warmly at her, helping her up and out of the coffin until she was standing at his side. Despite the matted hair and blood-smeared faces there was no missing the look of love between the two as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Then Martus reached out to his wife’s hand. She took it. And they turned and strolled out from under the canopy.
By now, the crowd had scattered … at least those who could move had scattered. A handful had fainted. A few lay prostrate on the ground. It was definitely time to act. Time to override his fear and move into action. But to do what? As Zimmerman frantically weighed the possibilities, a voice boomed from overhead, clapping like thunder.
“COME UP HERE!”
He stepped out from under the canopy and looked back up to the cloud. It loomed fifty feet above them. And, although Zimmerman’s logic dictated the sound came from the cloud, most likely thunder, it also came from everything surrounding him — from the stone pavement at his feet, the fabric of the canopy, its poles, even the remains of th
e caskets. It was as if every molecule vibrated with the terrifying voice.
He looked back at the couple. A wind had started to surround them. It came from nowhere, whipping and whirling about them. But neither appeared concerned. Instead, they moved closer to each other, facing one another, he wrapping his arms around her waist, she resting her hands upon his neck. Then the most remarkable thing happened. Ever so gently, the two began to rise up off the ground. Slowly, but steadily, they rose, higher and higher. But they barely noticed. As the wind continued to surround them and as they continued to rise, they directed their attention from each other and up to the cloud. The same love and adoration filled their faces, only now it was directed toward the cloud. The expressions were that of total awe and abandonment. The look of two people completely immersed in love.
As they continued rising, their features became more difficult to distinguish against the cloud’s blinding brilliance. Eventually, the bottom wisps of the cloud began to wrap around the couple, enveloping them … until, finally, they disappeared altogether.
Then Zimmerman heard it. A deep, throaty rumble that grew until it was a deafening roar, until the ground beneath his feet suddenly turned liquid. Shifting, pitching, writhing. Wave after wave of earth and pavement rolling like the ocean. He opened his mouth but could not hear himself scream as he was thrown to the ground. And still the earth heaved and buckled.
From the pavement he caught glimpses of the buildings surrounding the Mount. They were falling, crumbling like toys. He turned to the Dome of the Rock. It, too, was disintegrating …as if it were made of sand, as if it were nothing but dust. It was as if the entire area, the entire city — all of man’s finest and grandest creations — as if it was all being reduced to nothing but dust.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Myers holds a degree in theater arts from the University of Washington and an honorary doctorate from the Theological Institute of Nimes, France where he has taught. As a writer/director his work has won 60 national and international awards. His DVDs and books have sold 8 million copies. His children’s DVD and book series, McGee and Me, has sold 4.5 million copies and has won 24 Gold and Platinum ITA awards, been aired on ABC as well as in 80 countries. He has written, directed and been voices for Focus on the Family’s Adventures in Odyssey radio series and is the voice of Jesus in Zondervan’s NIV Audio Bible. His children book series, My Life As…, has sold 2.1 million copies. As an author, his children series have made the Best Selling list as well as seven of his adult novels. He has been interviewed for Good Morning America and ABC Nightly News. Several of his novels are currently under option for motion pictures including Blood of Heaven, When the Last Leaf Falls and his 12-part Forbidden Doors series (winner of the C.S. Lewis Honor Award). The motion picture, The Wager, staring Randy Travis and based on his novel by the same name, was recently released.
Fire of Heaven Copyright © 1999 by Bill Myers
First Paperback Edition: 1999
First eBook Edition: 2011
Amaris Media International.
2060 Avenida de Los Arboles #734
Thousand Oaks, CA 91362
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Myers, Bill, 1953 – Fire of Heaven / Bill Myers.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society.
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Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Praise for Bill Myers
Other works by Bill Myers
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
PART ONE: Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
PART TWO: Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
PART THREE: Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Praise for Bill Myers
Other works by Bill Myers
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
PART ONE: Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
PART TWO: Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
PART THREE: Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright Information