Great White Throne (20 page)

WE PASSED HUNDREDS, thousands, as we made our way up the hill that ringed Jerusalem’s eastern border. We couldn’t see the city on the other side of the hill, but we could see Don’s towers. Dozens of them stabbed hundreds of feet into the sky. The towers of Babylon.

We were halfway up the hill when Dumah turned off the highway.

“Where are we going?” Naomi asked.

Dumah didn’t answer.

“This is the West Bank.” I eyed the decaying apartment buildings around us. Their white plaster wore the dirt of decades. “The people here have suffered for years. I remember coming here once with my Mom and Dad, when I was little. We brought toys and candy for the kids. They were poor but happy. It’s weird, but I remember thinking they seemed happier than I was. Does that make sense?”

“Kids don’t care about things like money,” Naomi said. “I think that’s one of the reasons Jesus told us to be like them. They can be happy without a thing in the world. They just want to explore and find adventure and be loved.”

“I bet you were a happy kid.”

“Happy as I could be.” She stared down at her sleeping baby. “My dad walked away from the money and the fame. He cared more about us than all that.”

“My dad had it backwards.”

“Most people do.” The truck rounded a switchback curve.

“But he still did good things,” I said. “I think he always felt a little guilty about his fortune. It was different with my mom. She cared about the people, and her loyalty to this land ran deep. She was the one who suggested coming here with the toys. The kids were so happy, running everywhere, throwing the balls we gave them. Now look at these buildings. It feels like a ghost town.”

The truck climbed a steep road and entered a tight cluster of apartments. One of Don’s spires loomed ahead, on the crest of the hill. Naomi spoke softly: “I guess they all went to Babylon. Remember the video we saw in Don’s palace? His machines moved their bodies into these towers. How do you think they got down?”

“They climbed. Some might have jumped.”

“But not all,” Gabriel said, appearing beside Naomi’s open window. “People have a little longer to repent.” He pointed to a building ahead. “We are pulling into this garage. Laoth, Dumah, and I will join our kind, securing the perimeter. Go to the fourth floor. You will stay here tonight.”

“What’s going on?” Naomi asked.

“Your father will tell you more.” With that, the angel’s face disappeared from view and the truck rolled to a stop. Dumah hopped out of the truck and we did the same.
 

Naomi and I went to the back of the truck to get the women. I pulled back the canvas flap.
 

Aisha’s tired eyes met mine. “Where are we?”

“We’re not sure, but it sounds like this building is a safe place.” I paused, glancing down at Aisha’s legs as the other Muslim women climbed out, talking quietly in Arabic.
 

She nodded to me, and we understood each other. I picked her up. She was light, her small frame hanging fragile in my arms. The group of us entered the building, walked up four flights of stairs, and found ourselves on a plain balcony.

I took a few steps forward, realizing there were at least a dozen doors. I looked back to Naomi. “Gabriel didn’t say which door we should enter.”

She was studying the first door. Number 41. “It must not matter,” she said. “Let’s try this one.” She knocked.

Moments later the door cracked open. Naomi gave a little shout and dashed through. The women filed in after her. I carried Aisha in last.

Naomi was in her father Moses’s arms. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. Maybe both, but she sounded happy. His huge hands held tight to her and the baby.

Beyond them, the room was open for the entire floor of the apartment building. A hundred cots were lined up in rows along the walls. In the center was a makeshift circle of folding chairs.

“Elijah!”
 

I turned toward the familiar voice. Brie swept me into her arms, squeezing Aisha between us. Her long blonde hair smelled of fresh soap, making me realize how filthy we were.

“You made it out!” She released me and smiled down at Aisha. “Sorry about that. I’m Brie. What’s your name?”

“Aisha.”
 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Brie said. “Come, please, we were just about to eat. Are you hungry?”

Brie and others sprang into a flurry of motion. One woman spoke Arabic to the group with us. Whatever she said made them smile. A man gently took Aisha in his arms and carried her to the other side of the room, where others were getting medical help.

Brie escorted Naomi and me into the center of the room. We joined several others who were sitting there. I breathed easier knowing we’d found another hideout of the order, but despite the warm welcome, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d entered a war shelter.

“How many leaders are left?” I asked. Don had wanted them all dead.

Moses sighed. “Two.”

“My husband Chris is in Jerusalem, over the hill,” Brie said. “He’s trying to build alliances with the remaining faithful, or with anyone who will oppose Don. Many Jewish and Muslim people have joined us. Few doubt that the end is coming soon.”

“Which other leader is still alive?”

Brie and Moses exchanged a look. They didn’t answer.

“We saw Ronaldo in Don’s palace.” Naomi’s voice held a hint of dread.

Moses put his hand on her shoulder. “We lost him.”

My throat tightened. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “How?”

Brie spoke: “When Don staged his last attack on Tehran, a few of us made it into his palace with drones. We made it to the wing where Ronaldo and others were imprisoned. We managed to blow open a couple doors, and inside one of them, we … found Ronaldo.” She swallowed. “He had already joined the Lord.”
 

Naomi sniffed and wiped her eyes. Moses held her tight. I tried not to think about that brutal guard being sent into the prison cell of a man in shackles. I wouldn’t think about the cheery Brazilian on a sailboat, or about his ukulele and bare feet and open smile. I wouldn’t think about where I’d be without him, or about the tears filling my eyes. No, I wouldn’t think any of those things. Not now.

“I’m so sorry,” Brie continued. “There was nothing we could do after that. It was just moments before Don’s machines were on us. They blew through our drones like wildfire.”
 

“The doors,” I said slowly. “When you blew them open—what else did you find?”

“Not much,” Brie answered. “Another prisoner was there. He was in good, strong shape, but I didn’t even catch his name before my drone was taken out. I doubt he made it.”

I saw in my mind those fiery eyes behind prison doors. “You may have helped save us.”

“How?”

“Don had locked up angels there. It wasn’t a normal prison. He had demons on guard. Ronaldo told us they could have been detained like the Prince of Persia had once detained Michael.”

“I prayed God would work through our defeat,” Moses said, looking to Brie. “We knew He could use our loss for gain. I bet that man you released was an angel. Maybe he released the others.”

“It’s possible,” Brie mused.

“After the flare, the angels brought us to you,” Naomi said. “They looked like normal people to me, but Elijah could see hints of their spirit form.”

The group of them looked to me. I nodded, glancing around at the new faces. The others had been listening to us quietly. “You said another leader is alive?”

“I am.” It was an old Asian man. His beard hung to his knees like a spindly waterfall. “My name is Zhang Tao.” He was studying me knowingly.
 

Something about his gaze made me relax. “Have we met?”

“Briefly,” Naomi said. “In the order’s hideaway, the one in the cave, Zhang Tao was there.”

“He is our wisest leader,” Moses added.

“The oldest, at least.” Zhang Tao grinned. “I will tell you my story.”

“OUR CHURCH WAS among the order’s strongest,” Zhang Tao began. “In China, the government was always against us, much as it was in your country, but with a firm rod to enforce the law. We had no option but to rely on each other and to trust in God. For every person the government killed, two converts took the martyr’s place. We praised God for it, as Peter told us to do.
Rejoice when grieved by trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
 

“Our church grew to millions, and grew more. We reached one hundred million, and then even the government had to let us be. Oh, they forced us to be quiet in the ways of today—we had no precepts, no connections to the global mind—but we grew through something purer. We showed our neighbors what we were. The countryside of China became our domain, for few who saw the love of Christ in us could resist the Lord’s call.”

“How did you end up here?” I asked.

The old man’s wrinkled face went somber. “This is a sad tale.” He looked to Moses. The two of them seemed to communicate without a word. Eventually Moses nodded, and Zhang Tao spoke on. “We do not run from sad tales, for we know the world is fallen. We learn from the suffering, we grow from the trials.”

He gazed at the floor, his eyes distant as he ran his bony hand along his beard. “It begins with the love of my life. Her name was Xi. Her beauty rivaled the sun. Her energy—” he smiled toward Naomi— “it was like yours. We married fifty-nine years ago, in 2007. We had five children. We raised them in Guangzhou, in our home by the beautiful lake. Our children grew as our church did—slowly at first, and then all at once into adulthood.”

He paused, staring at me. “I have known the joy of a rich, full life. That is why I know now the meaning of pain and suffering. Remember, Elijah, what does our enemy want most?”

“To take God’s place?”

“Yes, and that means in everyone’s soul, too. Think of how he does that. First he must make us weak. He hates God for creating us. He hates us for being free in a way he cannot be. Through many years he has mastered the art of stealing our freedom. For some, he uses pleasure and abundance. For me, he destroyed half of my soul. The devil stole Xi from me. It drove me to anger. I have confessed, even forgiven, but still I feel the anger surge up within me, like a fire I can barely contain.” He closed his eyes and fell silent, but his hands clenched into fists, shaking.

“What happened?”

His eyes opened and met mine with a fierce edge. “You see to the heart of things, Elijah. The devil would not be content to let us die in peace, or even in pain. He attacked on a perfect Sunday morning. The spring cherry blossoms dusted the shores of the lake by my church. As I taught our people, Xi sat in the front, smiling at me, encouraging me as always. Don stormed in with a force from the Chinese military. They slaughtered everyone who would not bow to him. Two thousand three hundred sixty-four died. But not Xi. Don made me watch as he extracted memories from her precept. He stole everything she’d seen and heard and lived—our wedding night, every anniversary, every secret. Then Don transferred the memories to a young woman who was with him and, with his eyes on me, he slit Xi’s throat. Androids held me, made me watch, as her life spilled out.”