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by Robert L. Wise

  “You better holler!” The boy with the knife started getting to his feet. “’Cause I’m gonna cut your heart out!”

  “Stop it!” Graham Peck screamed, running from the front door of the school with the principal at his heels. “Stop this fighting, or I’ll have the police on every one of you.”

  “Here comes ol’ man Dune,” the biggest of the three boys said. “Get outta here.”

  The three attackers scrambled to their feet and started running back the way they came. George stood over Jeff. For the first time he realized blood was running from his nose.

  “What happened?” Graham sputtered as he ran up.

  “They attacked us!” George shouted. “Came out of nowhere!”

  “I know those boys,” the principal growled. “Always been troublemakers around the school. I’ll get ’em. Believe you me! I’ll make ’em pay.”

  Jackie came running up and dropped to her knees to help Jeff. “Oh, son!” she said. “Are you hurt?”

  “They had a knife,” Jeff whimpered. “I thought they would cut us.”

  Graham looked at the principal. “Does this sort of thing happen around here often?”

  The principal shook his head. “Too often, unfortunately.”

  CHAPTER 30

  FEELING COMPLETELY DRAINED, the Pecks drove down the back roads, returning to their cabin in Tomahawk. Whatever their expectations had been, the experience at the Rhinelander school left them in shock and dismay. The institution remained far below their minimal level of standards, but the attack on the boys had turned dismay into horror.

  “You guys doing okay?” Jackie asked over the seat for the third time.

  George and Jeff both nodded without saying anything.

  “We’re just about home,” Graham reassured them. “Look, you can see our house ahead.” He pointed, but no one answered.

  “Let’s get them in the house as quickly as possible and see exactly how badly they are hurt,” Jackie said.

  “Of course.” Graham pulled up and shut off the car. Matthew stuck his head up from the hiding place where he watched the house from a distance. Mary and Adah had to be inside.

  “Go on in, boys,” Jackie said. “We need to check your injuries.” She ushered the boys into the house.

  “I’m okay,” George groused.

  “I don’t care what you say,” Jackie said firmly. “George, take your shirt off and let us see where that boy’s board hit you.”

  Painfully, George pulled his T-shirt over his head and looked down. A dull red stripe ran across the middle of his chest.

  “He really smacked you,” Graham said. “It must hurt!”

  “What in the world!” Mary walked in and stopped. Her mouth dropped in shock. “What happened to the boys?”

  “They were jumped behind the public school,” Graham said. “It appears assault and battery starts at an early age around that town.”

  “Good heavens!” Mary shrieked. “Look at the knot on the side of George’s jaw!”

  “That’s where the big boy slugged me,” George said.

  “I’m not going to that school!” Mary protested. “They’d kill me on the first day.”

  “Nobody’s going to that school,” Graham assured her. “To say we were bitterly disappointed is an understatement.”

  Jackie came back with a bag of ice. “Put this on your jaw, George. It will help the swelling.” She pressed the ice against the side of his face and wiped the dried blood from his nose.

  “I still hurt where that boy kicked me,” Jeff groaned.

  “I know, I know, son.” Graham drew him into his lap. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am they attacked you.”

  Adah Honi walked in from the veranda. “Oh my goodness! What happened here?”

  “Our boys were jumped,” Graham said. “Looks like the public schools around here have bigger troubles than Chicago does.”

  Adah dropped to her knees in front of Jeff. “You poor, dear boy.” She patted him on the cheek. “What a terrible thing this is.”

  Mary compassionately hugged George. “Is there no end to what we have to suffer?”

  No one said anything.

  “Always your schools have been the best,” Adah said, “but this is what the Tribulation we are living in has done to us. Matters will get worse.”

  “What do you mean?” Mary said.

  “The book of Revelation calls this problem the ‘wormwood phenomenon,’ when the springs of the water of life are contaminated.”

  Graham blinked several times. “What in the world you are talking about?”

  “Water is the New Testament way of talking about where we feed our spirits,” Adah said. “Water is what keeps us alive mentally, spiritually, as well as physically. When I drink in philosophy and am educated, then I am feeding myself with waters of vitality. Yeshua, or Jesus, is the water of life.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Jackie replied.

  “The Bible says a star named ‘Wormwood’ will make the rivers bitter. It is the Scripture’s way of warning that during the Tribulation, the educational and philosophical systems will spin out of control. Ideas will be infected and the children will suffer. This is what you saw today.”

  “I can’t take any more of this!” Mary exploded. “Everywhere I see chaos, confusion, pain. Eldad was shot by some vagrant fool, and my brothers got stomped on by local delinquents.” She pulled at her hair. “You sit here and spout that religious psychobabble! The world’s gone completely stark-raving crazy!” Mary ran out and the front door slammed behind her.

  “I didn’t know she even cared about me,” George said.

  “Mary’s hard to understand,” Jackie finally said. “Let her be.”

  “Looks like we’ll have to teach you boys at home,” Graham said.

  “Oh no!” George groaned. “I wanted to go to school with the other kids.”

  “Well, today wasn’t much of a step in that direction,” Graham answered.

  CHAPTER 31

  GRAHAM SAT on the veranda, watching George and Jeff playing down below the lofty walkway that ran around the front of the house. The playground incident in Rhinelander had seemingly slipped to the back of their minds, but Graham knew it was far from over for them.

  Following his mother’s death in Arlington Heights, Graham sank into despair over the shooting that killed her. Depression and grief had been pushed to one side as the discovery unfolded that the mayor’s office had become the focal point for Borden Carson’s schemes in the United States. Graham had been totally shocked to discover Frank Bridges stood in the center of the entire mess. Eldad Rafaeli’s death only added to the burden. When he thought of his Jewish friend, tears came to Graham’s eyes. He blinked quickly and turned toward the boys.

  Usually George and Jeff spent hours playing with a palm-sized transistorized magnifying system. The power of the batteries allowed the boys to enlarge microscopic particles to a size they could observe through the lens. But today they were engrossed in baseball.

  George reached his baseball mitt high in the air, ready to catch the ball Jeff was trying to bat off the T-ball stand. You could never tell because Jeff might actually hit the ball. The boys seemed totally absorbed in their game and weren’t even aware Graham was watching them.

  And that was exactly the problem back in Chicago! Graham had been so lost in his job to reelect and politically position the mayor that he had failed to recognize the obvious. He couldn’t afford to do so again. Maria, his mother, had warned him years earlier that he had a bad habit of being naive. She worried because Graham always assumed the best about people and that could get him in deep trouble.

  It had.

  During these past months, Adah and Eldad had taught him volumes about what the Bible said about life, values, hopes, morals, and what lay ahead. Hopefully he had absorbed their teachings because he needed every ounce of it. The death of Eldad, as well as the possibility of an attack on their home, had again plunged him into crisis.
What happened in the Rhinelander schoolyard only brought the problem back into clearer focus. He needed to think clearly, accurately, and with no naïveté.

  Ten feet away on the veranda’s railing a blue jay landed. The bird hopped along the wooden pole, unaware a human was watching him, then suddenly twisted his head and saw Graham. For a moment the bird stared, as if trying to figure out what this strange creature was. Cocking his head, the bird pecked at the pole and then flew away to a tree. At the least, the blue jay didn’t seem to be afraid of Graham. Maybe that was a good sign of better things to come.

  Adah had shown Graham that the Bible taught he should be as harmless as a dove, and as wise as a serpent. Graham had to seem both harmless to a bird and deadly to an attacker, and he was certainly trying to fulfill that role. The Beatitudes instructed that he should be humble, self-contained, merciful, and peaceful. It was important to be honest so that no one could accuse him of falseness. But first and foremost, what should he remember as the chaos once more swirled around him? What was the paramount principle that must guide his life?

  The wind picked up, blowing Jeff’s ball off course and sending it bouncing into the trees. George went after it at a dead run. The current caught the blue jay and sent the bird sailing over the trees. Similar winds of change wouldn’t stop blowing, and the family could be thrown off course as surely as the ball and the bird veered from theirs. Something more was needed.

  And then he remembered that Adah had said the Bible taught that love should be his primary aim. Above all else, love should guide his every direction in life. Never before had that idea struck him with such force. He had learned what it was like to be clever and conniving, but not once had Graham taken seriously the idea that love should singularly guide him.

  Sure, he loved his family. Jackie remained forever the light of his life, and Graham adored his children, but never before had he considered that love might guide what he did with and to other people. Time and time again in the last year, he had felt like vultures were diving at him with five-hundred-pound bombs strapped to their feet, but not once had he considered that love had the slightest place in what he did or how he responded.

  Graham rubbed his chin and stared up into the clouds drifting by. “Okay, Lord,” Graham prayed out loud. “You’re the One who started this journey! I found love all through the Bible and certainly in the life of Jesus. I need to understand everything about what it fully means. I certainly can’t be a passive idealist. We learned back in the last century that if we didn’t fight for what’s right, millions got killed, but how does that correlate with love? I don’t know. You’re going to have to show me!”

  “Is somebody out here with you, Graham?” Jackie stuck her head out the doorway.

  Graham jumped. “No! I mean, well, I was only talking to myself.”

  “You certainly were talking passionately,” Jackie said and went back inside.

  CHAPTER 32

  HASSAN JAWHAR RASHID leaned back against the hospital pillow supporting his back and laid the thick file he was reading on the bed. His mind seemed to be operating correctly, but he continued to feel slightly woozy. Of course, the day of the shooting, as well as the three days following, had completely disappeared from his memory, yet today everything around him appeared far too vivid. The hospital room had become unbearably familiar, but the doctors warned he needed isolation to make sure no infection endangered the amazing progress he had made since the cranial operation. Obviously, the room had been professionally decorated to be the most luxurious in the hospital. An abundance of flowers nearly transformed the suite into a hothouse and truckloads of sprays had been sent elsewhere. Still, Hassan wanted out of this hospital as soon as possible.

  “Sire?” Abu Shad closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. “I trust you are feeling well today.” He handed Rashid another file.

  Rashid nodded. “As soon as the plastic surgery on my forehead and cheek is completed, I want out of here. Instantly!” The wound in his cheek made his words sound slurred.

  “Of course. The doctors say that since the unusual surgery with the material provided by the specialist from Illinois, your recovery has progressed splendidly. Thanks be to Allah that the bullet went down the middle of your brain, doing so little damage.”

  “Thanks be to modern science,” Hassan snapped. “Human progress is what saved my life. Don’t forget it!”

  “Yes, sire.” Abu bowed his head respectfully. “His Honor Mayor Bridges and his assistant are waiting outside to see you.”

  “Okay. Send them in.”

  Abu Shad opened the door and motioned for Bridges to enter.

  “You may leave now,” Rashid told his secretary.

  “Ah!” Frank Bridges rushed through the door with his hands extended. “Al-sayyid Rashid, you’re looking great!”

  Rashid shook hands with both the mayor and his assistant, Al Meachem. “I’m sure with this clumsy bandage around my head and face, it appears they nearly cut off the top of my head. It makes me look like a fool.”

  “Oh no!” Bridges said with overwhelming enthusiasm. “No. Not at all!”

  “Don’t play the politician with me, Frank. I am lucky to be alive, but I still look like I was dumped out of a cement mixer.”

  “You have to expect to show a little wear and tear, Al-sayyid Rashid.” Bridges shrugged. “But the truth is, you are looking amazingly well.”

  Rashid reached down and picked up a thick file that was bound at the seam. “I read the entire file you prepared on the investigation of your assistant Bill Marks. The security people have obviously done a considerable amount of investigation on this assassin.”

  “Absolutely.” Bridges jutted his chin out confidently. “As I discussed earlier, no one, and I mean no one, had a clue that Marks had become involved with these right-wing lunatics. We knew a reactionary movement was creating the chaos and confusion that . . .”

  “You mean crime and assaults everywhere were starting to upset them significantly,” Rashid interjected.

  “Yes. Of course.” Bridges nodded. “We knew there were issues, but we couldn’t have foreseen its affecting someone right in the midst of my administration.”

  “You blame a great deal of this man’s behavior on his wife.” Rashid started thumbing through the file. “I believe her name is Nancy Marks.”

  “That is correct, sir. Our investigators believe Nancy Marks initiated the problem with Bill Marks.”

  Rashid looked past Bridges. “You have caught this woman?”

  Meachem nodded. “Yes sir! She fled the state to her parents’ home in Little Rock, Arkansas. Our people captured her in the airport, preparing to fly out of the country. She’s held in the Cook County Jail.”

  “Excellent.” Rashid smiled at Meachem. “What have you learned from her?”

  Bridges edged between Meachem and the bed. “The reactionary movement grew more rapidly than anyone in the United States government suspected. And it’s better organized.”

  Rashid studied Frank Bridges’ face. The mayor appeared nervous and probably was worrying that Rashid considered him guilty or incompetent for allowing Bill Marks such easy access. Having already studied the security tapes of the shooting, Rashid knew exactly what had occurred.

  “As a matter of fact,” Bridges continued, “we’re concerned that an amalgamation of religious crazies and hostile militia groups could create a serious situation.”

  “You think I don’t trust you, Frank?” Rashid said coolly.

  Bridges stiffened and look frustrated. “No! I—I don’t think any such thing, sir. Y-you know how profoundly I regret w-what’s happened with this shooting.”

  “Relax,” Rashid said forcefully. “Frank, if I didn’t trust you, my security officers wouldn’t have allowed you to enter this room.”

  Bridges’ shoulders dropped and he swallowed hard. “Certainly. Thank you. Yes, thank you.”

  “I find your report to be thorough and complete.” Rashid laid it o
n the bedside table. “I remain confident your analysis is correct and . . .” A surge of pain raced through his head, forcing the oil magnate to catch his breath.

  “You all right?” Bridges extended his hand.

  “Just a small bump in the road. Headache pains surface now and then.” Rashid took another deep breath. “As I was saying, your assertion that the problem could quickly become serious is also correct. National attention is needed to stop this movement.”

  Bridges glanced frantically at Meachem. “We are doing everything possible to—”

  “Fine.” Rashid cut him off and smiled. “Your efforts are worthwhile, but we need something much, much larger.”

  “Larger?” Bridges frowned.

  “Yes, and I have already identified the solution.” Rashid picked up the file Abu Shad had brought in moments earlier. “You will find a prepared response in these pages.” He handed the material to the mayor. “Abu Shad prepared this copy for you.”

  Bridges stared at the quarter-inch-thick file in his hand. “In order to coordinate the entire country for an attack on these insurgents, we are going to change the image of the Sunday Encounter Groups.”

  “Sunday Encounter Groups?” Bridges shrugged. “They’re little more than time killers to keep people happy on weekends when they have nothing else to do. Those people provide tours, ski trips, nonsense like that.”

  “I understand they offer an opportunity for the people who once went to church to meet together,” Rashid continued. “Rather impressive numbers of your population apparently are attending these groups every week.”

  “Well, yes. Sure. Lots of people attend.”

  “My sources also tell me that the Sunday Encounter Group members tend to vilify your extreme right-wing groups that attempted to assassinate me.”

  Bridges nodded his head up and down. “Y-yes. Encounter Group members certainly aren’t part of the right-wing crowd.”

  “Excellent!” Rashid abruptly pounded the bed. “I am going to give them a new status, an unexpected position of power. They’re going to reclaim the name ‘church.’ We will now call them ‘The Restored Church,’ the people of vision. They will change from being time killers to people killers.”