“I am. Whoever shall join me, please come forward,” she said to the crowd. This was the first time I’d seen her so confident.
“You will lose your dignity. They will torture you and make you a slave. We tried to fight, but it’s time to teach the Romans they have no right to make us run,” he pleaded again with her.
Her gaze softened when she spoke. “I have to protect our family.”
“By letting the Romans take you and our children? You will put them in danger.”
“I can’t see my children die.”
“Is that worse than letting them suffer?”
Her eyes were intense. “I have no choice,” she finished.
“Then it is settled. Whoever wants to stay can stay,” Eleazer concluded. “Let Masada never fall again after this tragedy.”
That was it. The crowd dispersed to their homes. Sarina ran over to me and hugged me.
“Will you come with me?” she asked, crying quietly.
I knew I couldn’t. I could feel the story disappearing, and I had a feeling I would be back in my bedroom by tomorrow. But I didn’t say any of that.
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
We slept outside that night on the thatched roof again. Sleep was out of the question. The night was going to be quiet. A silence that echoed in my ears as loudly as a scream.
I knew with every breath I took, someone in the camp was taking their last. Parents killed their children, husbands killed their wives, and husbands killed each other. Not one scream punctured the air. It was a monstrous and wicked silence, one that remains in my soul to this day.
I would have given anything not to hear it. Anything.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Red sunlight slid past the edge of the earth. I hugged my chest on the rooftop, watching the blood spill over the mountains. The wind whistled through Masada.
The few of us who were left gathered in Arinae’s home. The other family came to us somber and wordless. It was a waiting game now. It would only be a matter of time.
The door opened and Sarina’s father stood in the threshold. Arinae stopped getting the family a bowl of food. They stared at each other for a couple of moments.
His eyes glistened in the light. “I couldn’t leave my family either.”
Arinae ran to him and cried into his chest. I glanced at Sarina and our eyes met. She tried to smile, but the pain in her eyes stopped it from being real. None of it felt real. An entire city slaughtered itself within a day.
I guessed this was what it felt like to be the last one on earth.
When the Romans broke down the city’s door, there was a crack that split through the wind like a grenade. A victorious cry rang out on the empty mountaintop.
I closed my eyes and squeezed Sarina’s hand. Tears traced invisible lines down her cheeks. Her brothers leaned against the wall quietly. Sarina’s father pulled Arinae closer to him.
A Roman soldier knocked down our door. He smiled a hideous grin, licking his lips. Without saying a word, he grabbed Arinae by her hair. Sarina screamed. Her father punched the soldier in the face. Another soldier lunged for him and pinned him to the floor. A third came straight for Sarina and me. He grabbed Sarina by the wrist and she tried to twist out of his grasp. She reached for my hand as she was being dragged away.
But her hand met open air. I looked down and saw myself disappearing.
I reached for her, but it was too late.
I was already gone.
I realized where I was the instant I landed on my bedroom carpet.
“No!” I screamed, pounding through the pages. “Please go back! Go back!” My voice was cut off by racking sobs.
She was gone. I was gone. It was over.
“I told her I would stay.” I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I sat against my dresser for a long time. The sunlight poured in softly through my bedroom curtains. I stared at my bed covers, my lamp, my nightstand, my clothes spilling out of my closet, my stuffed bear forgotten beneath my bed.
I checked the clock on my nightstand. Not much time had passed, maybe several minutes. I looked down at the pages. The words started to blur together. A tear dropped down on the page.
I knew it wasn’t my fault the story didn’t let me go any further, but I still felt horrible. I left Sarina to fight for her life, and here I was, safe and unharmed.
I remembered my wound and quickly rolled up my pant leg. Right where the cut had been, there was a long scar down my leg. My heart skipped a beat. If wounds were real…that meant death was real too.
I ran a finger over the scar. It had been an open wound not that long ago. How was it healed already?
I swallowed, realizing. Just like in real time, bruises and scratches heal. I had gone so far into the future, the wound healed into a scar.
I had no idea how I was going to explain that to Dad.
I fanned through the pages. What would happen if I did die? Would I be lost in the story forever? I looked back down at the page. My finger traced the words down to the bottom. I let out an exasperated sigh. It hurt so much. I could try to travel back into the story, but I knew I could read the whole story and nothing would happen. After I read a word once, there was no going back to it.
I couldn’t go back.
I looked down at the page number. “Huh, that’s funny,” I whispered. The story was in the back of the book in a separate history lesson. How did I jump from Jonah’s story all the way to the back of the book without reading it? Was this so-called “power” getting stronger?
I closed the Bible and laid it on my bed. At this point, there was nothing I could do. I just hoped Sarina didn’t feel as alone as I felt at this point.
My eye caught the picture stuck in the edge of my leaning mirror. It was my parents’ wedding picture I’d taken from their photo album from when they were in their early twenties. Dad still didn’t know I had it. I stood up and walked over to it, pressing my fingers against my mom’s face. I was surprised by the escaping tear rolling down my cheek and quickly brushed it away. I had cried enough in my life. I had to be strong, especially for Dad. His heart was just picking itself back up, while mine was trying to tape itself together. Even so, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be able to hold before we would both fall apart again.
I closed the book and set it on my bed. There was a soft rapping on my door, and my dad poked his head in.
“Wondering how you were doing,” he said. “How was your bike ride?”
Inside, I froze. What should I say? Should I lie? Church was a touchy topic, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring it up at this point.
“Yes, it was nice,” I said. I leaned back and my hand rested on the Bible still sitting on my covers.
Oh no.
“Good. I’m glad,” he said. He started to close the door and I reached for a shirt from the floor as fast as I could and draped it over the book. He poked his head back in just as I covered it.
“I was wondering what you would like for dinner. Tacos or pizza carryout?”
“Tacos,” I replied. My voice was tight. I was crossing my fingers he hadn’t seen it.
“Sounds good.” He frowned at my bed sheets. “Hey Gen, do you want me to wash that? Was just about to put a load in the washer.” He pointed to the shirt.
I swallowed.
“Nope that’s fine,” I said quickly, but my voice cracked.
It was either because I’m a horrible actress or he could hear it in my voice. He came over and sat on my bed.
“Are you okay, hon?”
I glanced at his hand. It was centimeters away from the shirt. A few more and he would be able to feel the book’s hard cover.
“Nope, I’m fine,” I said with about as much confidence as I could muster.
Please don’t touch the shirt. I casually picked up the other shirts and pants that I had thrown on the floor and piled it onto the Bible.
“Did something happen at school?”
I picked up the pile of clothes with
the Bible, trying to keep it hidden. I quickly threw it into my closet and shut the door, smiling back at him. I tried not to wince when I heard the soft thud inside the closet. He peered around me at the closet doors.
“Nope, nothing Dad.”
“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll start on those tacos.” He rustled my hair and left. I patted my hair down after he shut the door.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I picked the book up from the closet and hid it under my pillowcase. For now, I’d keep the Bible hidden. If it had an old connection with Mom, those feelings would likely resurface for him. That was the last thing I wanted.
I flopped on my bed and closed my eyes. Some time or another, I would have to tell him. Maybe when I understood what this whole “God thing” was, I would.
Some time or another, I would.
“Working together is a big part of this class, which is why this next project is going to be a big grade,” Ms. Whitaker began.
“You get two weeks to complete it. You and your partner must create a project of some sort to go along with your speech and presentation. It should be about a historical event. This will be worth 300 points and could take a big chunk off your grade if you mess it up, so don’t blow it.” She gave us a warning look, but it wasn’t necessary. The requirements weren’t surprising to an Honors class. It was supposed to be challenging.
But the part about getting a partner was when my heart sank. The project I had in mind wasn’t exactly what someone else might agree to.
Later that day, the school bus rumbled off, leaving me at my driveway. I let myself in through the back door and dropped my backpack near the kitchen table. As I took out my homework, I looked grudgingly at the papers. I would gladly never do homework for the rest of my life. Ironically enough, it almost seemed like I would be doing homework for the rest of my life.
I finished about half of it when I wandered to my bedroom. The Bible was sticking out from under my pillowcase again. I seriously had to find a better hiding spot for that thing.
I flipped it open to a random page and began to read.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Are you going to drink that?”
I blinked, trying to get my eyes to focus. The room was noisy and bustling with voices and laughter. I rubbed my eyes.
A young man squinted at me. “Well?” He pointed at the goblet in front of me.
“Yeah, sure, take it,” I said quickly.
He took it and gulped it down. A group of other boys around him whooped and hollered.
I was in a banquet hall. All around me, clusters of young men sat at two long tables. Their voices rose higher than lunchtime in the cafeteria at school, and as I counted, I only saw twenty of them. The room was surrounded by wide open archways on three sides, thin drapes blowing in the breeze.
“Good choice,” someone else said. I turned my head to the voice.
The boy across from me tipped his nose at the food in front of me. His wine and food were also untouched. “No one here realizes how dishonorable it is to God and to himself to eat and drink such strong and putrid food and wine.”
I didn’t really know what he was talking about. A strong breeze snuck past the columns and blew at my face. Several strands of long hair escaped from my head covering and I quickly pushed them back.
“You know, you don’t have to hide. I know you’re not supposed to be here, Elizabeth. It was pretty clever, though. I have no idea how you did it.”
I blinked. Elizabeth?
He smiled and leaned over the table. “No one has noticed except me. The rest are too drunk to even realize it,” he continued. Whoever he thought I was, I was not her. But I didn’t have much of a choice but to play the part.
“How could you tell?” I whispered loudly to him, trying to be heard over the racket.
He laughed and tried to say something, but an older man in his forties approached the two tables. He cleared his throat and several young men turned. Everyone else quieted down.
“Welcome, noblemen of the Israelites. You are all here because you have been chosen to be trained to honor the king. I am Ashpenaz, chief of the king’s court officials. The king has ordered young men who are strong and eager and are of royalty to come into his service. You can expect to be taught the language and writing of the Babylonians.”
A few boys pushed each other jokingly, but they continued to listen.
“In three years’ time, you will all be qualified to work for the king after your training is complete. Once you begin, you will see the process and understand. Please stand up when your name is called….”
I watched as Ashpenaz read off a scroll with a list on it. When he got to “Daniel from Judah,” the young man who had called me Elizabeth stood up. The three others from Judah who sat next to him were Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. The four of them stood together.
I was getting nervous. They had to notice I was the odd one out eventually.
Ashpenaz was reading off the list so fast that it was hard to keep up. At some point, I just stood up and sat right back down. I hoped no one noticed I was somehow a “Jedeniah” and an “Ezan” mixed together.
Ashpenaz walked slowly back and forth between the tables. He frowned a little when he passed by me, but I turned quickly so he could not get a good look at my face. To my relief, he kept walking.
“Since this is your first day, there will not be any lessons. You will spend most of your time getting situated in your quarters. First thing tomorrow, we will start training. You will also receive new names and you will be addressed by those names. Please go to your quarters when your meal is finished.” With that, Ashpenaz was gone, leaving two guards in the banquet hall.
The noise level immediately rose to even higher than before. Daniel motioned for me and his companions to follow him, and I gladly got up out of my chair and we left the room. He led us down the hallway where Ashpenaz had disappeared to.
My heart gasped as I caught sight of the view when I looked out the arched windows.
The city of Babylon bowed at our feet. Clusters of box-shaped homes piled over each other, and the sun glinted on the tan colors. Like gushing water over a waterfall, plants and flowers burst to life in between the homes.
The castle itself was breathtaking. Ferns and plants draped over the castle walls. The windowsills were adorned with arrays of silk-like flowers and vegetation. The hallways were open with columns and arches letting in the sunlight and blue sky.
I knew where we were. I had learned about this in history class. The abundance of plant life, the king of Babylon…there was only one place like it—Nebuchadnezzar’s castle, near one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
The Hanging Gardens.
“Soft shell or hard shell?” Dad held out the taco shells for me to choose. The beef sizzled on the frying pan.
“Soft shell,” I answered.
With one swift movement, he plopped the tortilla on a separate skillet.
“Leftovers are better the second time around.”
I rolled my eyes. “Unpopular opinion, Dad.” He shrugged.
I sat down at the table. Grease from the meat rolled down my hand as I bit into the taco. I grabbed a napkin and thought about the story. I’ve even seen pictures of the Hanging Gardens on the internet. Did that mean all these places I read about were real?
My dad’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you mind if I watch my show? It’s on in five.”
“Oh yeah, sure, go ahead.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Sometimes I feel like you’re in your own world.”
I smiled. He was right.
“Just like your mom,” I heard him mumble as he walked into the living room. My ears perked up.
Mom.
The torn page had a note that was written to her. Maybe the missing book was in her things. I couldn’t find it upstairs, but…there was another place.
I got up and put my plate in the si
nk. Inside my dad’s room, his walk-in closet was vomiting clothes and shoes. I picked my way through the mess. The box was in the back corner of the closet underneath an old atlas and some scuba gear. Some of her dresses still hung in the corner. We might have sold her regular clothes, but Dad couldn’t bring himself to sell all of it. It was hard enough for him.
I rubbed the fabric between my fingers. I think a part of him thought that if he kept them there, he’d never have to believe she was gone. That one day she would walk back into our lives and the house and the closet and pick up those dresses and wear them like she always had. I dropped the fabric and grabbed the box. The bottom sank with the weight, and I threw it on the bed before I could drop it.
Most of her books were upstairs in the attic, but these…these were the special ones. I picked the top one up gingerly and laid it on the bed. Some of them were literature textbooks from her college classes and counseling books from her job that she used to use all the time, but most of them were old novels. I flipped through The Great Gatsby, her pen marks bleeding into the next pages. The margins were filled with notes and drawings.
I closed the book and picked up a journal. I opened it but was disappointed with the empty pages. There were other journals in the box too, but most of them had barely anything in them. I could have sworn Dad told me she wrote all the time. But if this was the only box with her old journals, it was only left with ghosts.
Disappointed, I piled everything back into the box and carried it back to the closet. Parting the clothes, I lifted the box to the second shelf.
“Ow!”
My foot caught on the dumbbell set my Dad never used, and I fell forward deeper into the clothes. I held on to my throbbing toe.
“Ughhhhhhhh,” I groaned.
My dad’s voice filled the bedroom. His feet came closer to the closet door. The lights were still on, so I thought he saw me, but instead, he reached inside the door and flipped the light switch. I tried not to giggle as I prepared to jump out and scare him.
“Yes, I know. It has been discussed in court before.”
I stopped short. Court?
Worthy of Rain Page 13
