From a hundred yards away, Dressler saw him coming. The hunch of his shoulders and the moody stoop of his walk, she knew him well enough to recognise the foul mood he was in. They had met in the financial crime unit of the Guardia. She was a transferee into the division from Interpol. Following Dressler’s brief disaster of a marriage to a Florentine politician she and Stefano dated for a time but that was long ago and they had been professionally close since. When Stefano left the Guardia to join Decapolis with an ulcer and alimony to pay, Dressler followed. She decided that she would prefer to have Stefano as a daily constant in her life rather than watching their friendship ebb away from her.
“Fucking car is a dead end,” spat Stefano.
Dressler nodded. “The woman?”
“Wouldn’t talk despite someone sitting on her the entire trip back to Tokyo. The car’s a dead end, the woman’s a dead end; I feel like hitting myself in the balls.” Stefano helpfully mimed the action.
Dressler ignored him. “The police?”
“We can’t go to the police. What are we going to say? Please help us find these crazies; we only know there is a plot because Samuel read someone’s mind. Are you fucking kidding me?” Dressler stood quietly as Stefano stomped around in front of her. “By the hair on my balls we have nothing and tomorrow, you know what’s going to happen?”
Dressler shook her head.
“Samuel is going to leave here, wander the streets in his stupid fucking sandals and get himself killed.”
“Ma, che sei grullo?”
“What, what?” said Stefano throwing up his hands. “Your bastard husband teaches you one Florentine expression and I live to hear it for the rest of my miserable life. Why? Tell me. Why am I so stupid?”
“We do have something. We have the knife, the Tanto. All we have to do is follow it.”
Stefano kept his face blank while his mind kicked into gear racing through the permutations. “White must have arrived in Jerusalem only a few nights ago. You can’t just get on a plane with that thing in your pocket. Definitely can’t check it into the hold.”
“Ja.”
“She would have had it shipped overnight from Tokyo.”
“Ja.”
“Insured; it’s an antique so it has to be specially insured. A blade like that won’t be covered by the standard courier policy. If it’s specially insured, then we can find the policy through the VPC Capital network. Find the policy and we can track the shipment to its destination right here in Jerusalem.”
“Das stimmt.”
Stefano reached forward to kiss Dressler full on the lips. He caught himself just in time. He let out a little laugh of embarrassment, covering his mouth with his hand. Where on earth had that come from? He hadn’t thought of Dressler in that way for a very, very, long time. He didn’t wait to find out if she had noticed. He quickly shuffled past her into the hospital, blushing like a teenager.
***
DALIA and Mariam stood at the farmhouse door. It was still propped up against the broken wall just as the corporal had left it twenty-four hours ago. Now it was covered in a myriad of paper, lists, messages and instructions. Around them the site was buzzing with activity. Water was being pumped out of the impact craters, rubble sorted and removed. Trucks rolled into camp depositing supplies and a constant mill of people swirled around. The work extended past the inner buildings of the original farm and into the scrublands beyond. Mariam could see a community of tents and other buildings being constructed.
They were approached and welcomed by one of the Healed, a young man Mariam recognised from The Children’s Relief Hospital in Jericho. His eyes widened as he saw them.
“Hey, how’s the hand?”
“Perfect.” He beamed, holding up his hand and wiggling his three new fingers.
A ripple of recognition flowed through the camp as word spread that Mariam and Dalia had arrived. The Healed downed tools and flocked to the farmhouse door. Dalia’s hands were shaken, her cheeks kissed and they both were overwhelmed by the gratitude and love of the Healed. Rami Hussein burst through the melee, embracing Mariam. “Welcome, welcome, let me show you around.”
“I like what you have done with the place,” said Dalia and the three of them burst into a peal of laughter.
Later, as Dalia enjoyed the hospitality in the camp kitchen, Mariam strolled through the camp in discussion with Rami. “There is something remarkable happening here Mariam. You remember the devastation after the bombing?”
Mariam nodded.
“Yesterday I was the first here, then the veterans came, followed by others throughout the day and into the night. It hasn’t stopped. More are coming every hour.”
“How many are here now?”
“At least 250 are staying overnight. The first few we billeted in the village, but the numbers are so high that most of the new arrivals who want to stay have to stay here on the camp-site. We don’t want to turn anyone away. We have been clearing the scrub and putting up accommodation tents. Everyone is here to rebuild the farm but the rebuild is going to take at least three months. We have only just restored electricity and water but because of the amount of people wanting to help we have new challenges to face; we need to think longer term and tackle problems such as sanitation, food and even schooling for children.” As if to illuminate Rami’s point a woman with a baby strapped into a sling strolled past. Mariam bowed a greeting. “We have families here now.”
“How is all of this being paid for?”
“Everything is donated, everything. If the Healed can’t come they send money with those who can. If they come then they bring supplies for themselves, for others or for the project. In such a small space of time because Samuel has cured such a wide range of people, we have a varied and skilled community.”
“Who is in charge Rami, is it you?” Rami ceased walking for a moment.
“No, Mariam. That’s the beauty of what is happening here. Nobody is in charge. We met last night after dinner to set the coming day’s priorities, work rotas and team leaders. It was a straight forward debate and vote.”
“What about the team leaders?” Rami and Mariam resumed their lap of the camp.
“The team leader runs the planning and organisation for our allocated areas. I used to run a restaurant so I’m team leader for the kitchen. It’s my responsibility to feed everyone here. In any project you need to allocate people to tasks according to their skill set. Doesn’t mean I’m the camp boss. ”
Mariam shook her head. “A debate around a camp-fire can work when there are only a few of you. Three hundred people trying to agree what should be on the breakfast menu tomorrow will just be chaos.”
“We debated that last night. By tonight we will have a camp intranet up and running and most of the debate and voting we plan to put online. All of the Healed working on this project are welcome to submit new ideas and proposals. We all vote on each proposal, simple majority wins.”
Mariam looked out over the throng of people. “Good luck with that.”
“Mariam,” said Rami gently placing his hand on her arm, “the Healed that have come here have made a choice. They have chosen to take control of their lives. When you make that choice, that sacrifice, when you leave your old life behind the last thing you want is to be powerless. We all want to directly influence decision making here at camp. We are working hard to put in place structures that allow us to do that. We Healed want to take responsibility for our actions and are prepared to accept the consequences of our mistakes. We won’t devolve that responsibility to a group of elected officials who decide what the camp should do. We all decide. That’s why there won’t be a leader or a council of leaders in this place.”
***
DALIA rose to her feet. In the camp fire, she saw many of the faces that had treated her with such warmth and genuine affection that afternoon. Beyond, as the night enclosed and the lights of the camp strayed into the gathering, she could only make out the shapes and shadows of the Healed. Many had ur
ged her to speak at the gathering and Mariam also felt it was right for her to do so. Dalia opted to speak directly and from the heart.
“You know, when I came here today, I didn’t know what to expect.” The crackle of the fire and the distant hum of the camp lighting were Dalia’s only accompaniment. “But what do I see? A Jew standing with a Christian, standing with a Muslim, standing with an Israeli, standing with a Palestinian; all coming together to do an old woman a blessed kindness.” Dalia radiated a warm smile towards her audience. “Throughout the day many of you had questions for me about my son and I tried to answer your questions as best as I could. I know I disappointed many of you for the grand questions, for the greatest unknowns I just didn’t have an answer. ”
A murmur flowed through the gathering. “We weren’t disappointed, Deedee,” someone said in the crowd.
“My son did give me a message for you all.” Dalia could sense the Healed pressing forward in anticipation. “He says simply; Don’t look to me or to anyone else for answers. Look only to yourself. Only you can choose the path that your life now demands you take. What my son is promising you is that he will continue on his path of healing. Your path is for you alone to determine.”
“I am sure some of you feel that my son has changed you. In some ways he has. You have been given a gift. Some may have noticed that your body’s ability to heal from injury has been transformed. As the Healed, you will now live longer and your long lives will be free from the curse of disease and illness.” There were gasps as Dalia spoke. “I can only counsel that you use this gift wisely.”
“Thank God for Samuel,” Dalia heard someone say.
“You know, in many other ways my son hasn’t changed you. I spent time with so many of you today and the kindness and selflessness I have felt cannot just be implanted from outside. I know that it existed in all of you long before you met my son. Perhaps all he did was to remove your anxieties allowing you to turn your gaze from within to without.”
“I am humbled that so many of you, in our hour of need, have found the space in your hearts and time in your lives to come to the aid of my family. Found the wisdom to look past your differences and found the common ground to come together and work as one. For that you all have my blessings and for everything else you have my love. Thank you.”
***
HAZEL’S timeline logged a surge in activity; one of the Healed had been recording Dalia’s speech and she posted it onto the camp’s external website. It quickly went viral. Within ten minutes the speech had been viewed 500,000 times. Within an hour the number had reached 10 million. By the next morning, nearly a billion people had heard Dalia speak to the Healed by the fire just outside the village of Haran.
***
Chapter 10
Timeline: The Pestilence minus 12 days. Information source: BBC World News article: Author, Bill Irons.
SALVATION FOR THE HEALED, IMMUNITY FOR ALL
The University of Jerusalem will announce later today the sensational results of a preliminary study on those healed by Samuel Srour. The study has found that the Healed retain a permanent ability to recover from injury and an ongoing immunity to disease and illness.
The Healed now number in their thousands with hundreds more joining their ranks every day as Samuel Srour continues his miraculous healing crusade. The University of Jerusalem has instigated a study seeking to explore the continuing implications of this healing. Scientists at the Department of Physical Biosciences at the university have been running extensive testing on a number of Healed volunteers, including this reporter. The tests have been conducted to measure each subject’s ongoing recovery capability to physical injury including blunt force trauma, cuts, burns, abrasions and more serious intermuscular and skeletal damage. In each case, moments after the injury was inflicted the subject’s body repaired the damage almost instantaneously.
Dr Pincus of the Department of Physical Biosciences at the University of Jerusalem:
“We believe that the test subjects’ interaction with Samuel Srour has caused a permanent change in their cell structure. The change we believe triggers a vast acceleration in the production of new hyper aggressive stem and white blood cells. Our results show the subjects’ ability to regenerate is akin to 10,000 times normal speed. This regeneration ability is so powerful it’s also capable of re-growing any damaged organ or limb. At this early stage we cannot postulate if the effects are permanent, but it is highly likely that they will remain with the individual throughout the remainder of their natural lives.”
“As scientists we strive to do more than document this healing. At this preliminary stage without access to the source, without access to Samuel Srour, we are unable to offer any coherent view on how he undertakes this healing. All we are able to do is observe the remarkable after-effects of these abilities. We hope in the future that Mr Srour would agree to submit to some form of analysis and testing so that we may strive to understand the nature of these incidences.”
Additional work by Dr Pincus and the team at the university indicates that the immunity is not just restricted to injury. The team tested a number of viruses and bacterial infections on the cells of the Healed. In each case the cells of the Healed have resisted any and all biological attack.
Dr Pincus of the Department of Physical Biosciences at the University of Jerusalem:
“Our work on the disease resistance of the Healed shows truly noteworthy results. The findings indicate that the Healed are unlikely to succumb to illness or disease. Consequently, the implications for the longevity of the lives of the Healed are profound. Provided these people maintain a healthy diet and a reasonable amount of exercise the Healed should live considerably longer than the non-Healed.”
“More analysis of the long term consequences is required and we are establishing a monitoring programme to catalogue and document these effects. We will be providing periodic reports throughout the life span of our subjects.”
Longer lives, unrestricted by injury or illness - that is the true nature of the miracle that Samuel Srour is offering the world.
Dalia Srour, mother of Samuel Srour said:
“We have seen that my son [Samuel Srour] has the ability to cure the sick. He also has been given the gift to immunise the healthy against any future injury, illness or disease. However, Samuel is just one man. It is physically impossible for him to heal all the sick and to give immunity to all the healthy. He has to prioritise, so for now he must focus on relieving those that are suffering. Samuel plans to remain in Jerusalem healing. If you are ill and are able, please come to him. Eventually he will travel but for now you will find him in Jerusalem.”
Top Comments
MaJik:
What a profound gift Samuel is bestowing on humanity. The source of these gifts must be divine. The proof of the existence of God has just been laid at the feet of mankind.
Stevie:
Shall we just stop investing in hospital and medical centres? Are we supposed to do away with our healthcare industry overnight? Should government spending on health be diverted to something else? We are talking about millions of jobs globally becoming obsolete.
RLA06:
My wife is a nurse; what will she do?
AKI2k:
Shall we just stop investing in hospital and medical centres? Are we supposed to do away with our healthcare industry overnight? Should government spending on health be diverted to something else? We are talking about millions of jobs globally becoming obsolete.
The lady said it when she said Srour can’t heal or immunise everybody. There are too many people. So my guess is nothing changes. As usual.
FOLLYfolly:
This is a recipe for disaster; a fraction of the world’s population living long, care-free lives, the rest of us coughing and wheezing to an early grave. Why should Mr Srour be the one who decides who lives and who dies? Who made him God?
WalkingOnby:
What about the rest of us? The Healed will be super human. Wha
t if their children are also immune? Are the rest of us going the way of the Neanderthal?
BIGBADDAWG:
This is a recipe for disaster; a fraction of the world’s population living long, care-free lives, the rest of us coughing and wheezing to an early grave. Why should Mr Srour be the one who decides who lives and who dies? Who made him God?
So he should just stop curing the sick because he can’t cure everyone? A doctor won’t stop treating his patients because he doesn’t have time to see all who are sick. He does what he can. Samuel must keep doing all he can.
SilkAR:
I have no hope of getting to Jerusalem. I have a job and kids to feed.
Mina358:
I have no hope of getting to Jerusalem. I have a job and kids to feed.
I am going to walk to Jerusalem if I have to. I am going to get there any way I can.
***
THE Scientist sat in departures at JFK idly reading a magazine. Samuel Srour had even made the front page of this health and fitness sports magazine. He was everywhere: Television, Internet and print. The Scientist had a twelve-hour flight before him. He had a solid playlist of Brahms’ orchestral and chamber music to keep him company. He glanced up at the departure board and counted off that eleven of the next fifteen flights were destined to travel to Israel, Palestine or Jordan. The BBC Immunity World News article and Dalia Srour’s fireside speech had triggered a surge of people making the new pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Airlines were laying on extra flights to meet the voracious demand. It was still possible to fly directly to Jerusalem, but you needed a large wallet and a slice of luck to bag a seat. Since the buyout, the Scientist’s wallet was indeed the right size and he struck lucky booking an economy seat for a first-class price. He hoped his luck would continue once he got to Jerusalem.
The Pestilence Page 12
