Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy (6 page)

I left at
sun-up to avoid detection. The streets were empty and the air was
cool. I had never been to Dothan because the town was a military
zone and inaccessible. I never imagined I would see the small town
in the first century.

The place had a
curious history. The Tanakh said the Armenians trapped Elisha in
Dothan. As enemies of Israel, they tried to capture Elisha but the
chariots of fire defeated them.

The Merkabah,
fables about the heavenly throne chariot, were forbidden to be read
during regular synagogue services—not that we ever attended, but I
was fascinated with the chariots and the mystical stories
surrounding the village. I wished I could see one of the chariots
of fire.

I arrived at the outer gates within an hour. The
cave was nearby and marked with the sign “leper colony, stay away.”
A narrow trail hidden from the street led to the lepers. Overgrown
vegetation and spindly vines wet with morning dew made travel
difficult on the donkey. The trailed ended at a small natural
clearing.

After unpacking the supplies, I rang the bell on the
donkey to alert the lepers. A small pair of eyes peered at me from
behind some vines at the cave entrance. He moved out of view when
he realized I saw him. I knew they wouldn’t approach as long as I
was present, but I wanted to make sure the food wasn’t stolen.

I reluctantly
led the donkey back up the trail. I lingered at the top, hoping to
catch a glimpse of one of them. I hadn’t seen any robbers, but I
was ready to shoo them away if one appeared.

A few minutes
later, a young child came out of the cave. He grabbed some figs and
ran back inside. I chuckled. He didn’t look sick, but Dr. Luke said
healthy kids were expected to live with their leprous parents if
they had no other family. A man appeared with a cloth draped over
his head and face.

What would
happen if I came out of hiding? Would he run away? I’d have given
away my favorite guitar to have five minutes on Google to look up
leprosy. Soon a few more lepers appeared to carry the supplies into
the cave.

Without warning, robbers appeared. The lepers fled.
They had no standing in the community to defend themselves. Filled
with anger, I came out of hiding.

“Get out of
here,” I yelled at the villains.

One of the thieves absconded with the pomegranates.
He was too far away to catch and tackle.

I got in the
second bandit’s face. “Go away, you thief.”

He didn’t move.

I yelled again, “I’m a leper,” and I shoved him
backwards.

When he heard my words, he took off.

Out of breath and gulping in air, I calmed myself. I
heard movement in some nearby branches. Two eyes were peering at
me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I said.

The person came out into the opening and removed his
head scarf. Lesions covered his deformed face. His nose and lips
curled up to the left, now permanently displaced with scarring. The
man’s heart-wrenching plight touched my soul.

“I don’t see any leprosy on you,” the man said.

I tried to make eye contact again, but the man
refused to look at me.

“I don’t have leprosy,” I confessed. “I didn’t want
those marauders to steal the food I brought.”

“Go away,” the
leper said, “before this death comes to you and I am burdened with
making you sick.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

The gulf between us grew.

I asked again. “What is your name?”

“Simon. Now go away.”

“My name is Daniel.”

A silence followed.

A few minutes
later, another man walked out holding the hand of a young boy. I
recognized the lad as the one who took the figs. His eyes were
bright.

Leprosy covered the cheeks and forehead of his
apparent father, though not as seriously as in Simon. My eyes
returned to the disfigured man. I studied him, aware I was probably
the only non-leprous person who had seen him in years. Would I
shame him, run away in disgust, or fear?

Suddenly
something hit Simon in the head and knocked him over. He grasped
the side of his face and moaned. The red object fell on the ground
and rolled away—I glanced through the dense underbrush to see the
bandit who threw the pomegranate. I heard someone scampering
through the scrub but gave up on the idea of chasing him—I’d never
catch him.

Simon had knelt
down with his nubby fingers covering the wound, fingers worn away
from the living death that would eventually kill him. I rushed over
and crouched beside him. “Are you all right?”

He nodded but
refused to look at me—horrified that I was so close to
him.

I glanced at
the father and son who stood a few feet away. The father
approached, but I could tell he was hesitant.

The young boy
looked up at his father. “I tell Mommy Daniel brought us food.” He
ran back inside the cave.

I stepped back
from Simon, wishing I could do more, but my presence was painfully
a hindrance. I watched as the boy’s father tended to the injured
man. Simon stood after a minute and seemed to be okay, though
rather shaken.

“Thank you,” he said to me.

I nodded.

The two of them
picked up the supplies and hauled them inside the cave.

I’d promised I would be more caring. I didn’t know
the cost—until now.

I sat in the lobby with Dr. Luke and Ami. Ami’s
brother, Levi, joined us later. Most of the patrons had finished
eating. Levi set his walking stick underneath the table and
stretched out in the chair beside us.

The women had
cleared the tables and the rattling of dishes filtered in from the
back room. The men lingered after the meal, catching up on the news
from Rome and Jerusalem. Conversation the night before had centered
on the Roman soldier who had tried to seize me. My story and the
death of the disabled man had made the rounds. I would have
preferred anonymity.

Ami was one of
Dr. Luke’s patients even though he had no obvious physical
ailments, but he had epilepsy. Dr. Luke and others had tried for
years to heal him. He’d have made a good lawyer but his illness
prevented that.

Ami was
animated tonight, more than I had seen him before. He stood and
walked around the room, tapping each table to get people’s
attention. “Wake up, now is not the time to sleep.” Most of the men
appeared bored, but not ready to retire for the evening.

I took my cue from Dr. Luke who listened
attentively.

Ami began his comments, “I had heard so much about
Yochanan the Immerser that I had to see for myself. I went down to
the Jordan River today.”

Dr. Luke raised his eyebrow.

Ami continued, “A large crowd came to hear Yochanan
and many asked to be cleansed from their sins. He dunked several in
the river.”

Ami paced back
and forth, as he spoke. “The man was dressed in camel’s hair with a
leather belt around his waist. ‘Turn from your sins, return to
God,’ he said. Ami raised his hand as if in imitation. ‘The Kingdom
of Heaven is near.’ The common folk were drawn to him. Some are
even calling him a prophet.”

Several men shifted in their seat. I couldn’t tell
if they were interested or bored.

Ami asked the question many were already asking.
“Who do you say Yochanan the Immerser is?”

No one dared to speak.

Ami continued. “Some temple leaders showed up,
priests and Levites.”

When he said
this, the tension in the room increased a few decibels.
Historically, I knew Yochanan to be nothing more than an oddity who
lived in the wilderness, though Christians considered him a great
man. I was more interested in the temple, the center of worship
before its destruction in 70 A.D. The Muslims built the Dome of the
Rock many years later over the temple base. I tried to imagine what
the temple looked like.

Levi, Ami’s brother, whispered, bringing me back to
reality. “If he keeps going with this, we’re going to have a
firestorm.”

Ami continued.
“The priests wanted to ask Yochanan some questions. I didn’t know
the men, but they were sent by the Levites. Yochanan treated them
very disrespectfully.”

“Such as?” one man asked.

“He called the Pharisees and the Sadducees a brood
of vipers.”

A murmur stirred in the room.

“That probably
went over well,” one man scoffed.

“He told the
religious leaders to return to God,” Ami said. “If that isn’t an
insult, I don’t know what is. That’s like telling a doctor he needs
to go back to medical school.”

A man behind me spoke up. “We haven’t had a prophet
in 450 years, since Malachi. Maybe he is the next great one.”

Ami pointed to him. “But if he were a prophet, why
would he tell them to repent and turn to God? These are very
learned, religious men.”

Dr. Luke said, “The prophets were always critical of
the rulers and the priests, and most were martyred because of
it.”

Ami turned to the doctor. “So you say he is a
prophet?”

Dr. Luke shrugged. “Time will reveal if he is a true
prophet.”

Ami focused on me. “Daniel, you’re from Jerusalem.
What have you heard about this supposed prophet? Who do you say he
is?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” repeated Ami. “Daniel, everyone in
Jerusalem is aware of Yochanan the Immerser.”

The tension rose in the room. I needed to come up
with something to say that would be neutral.

Ami pointed his
finger at me. “What are you hiding, Daniel, son of Aviv? You show
up here from Jerusalem and seem ignorant, yet I know you are a
smart lad. Surely you must know about Yochanan the
Immerser.”

“Maybe he is one of their followers,” someone
said.

I shook my head. “No, I’m not one of his followers.
He’ll be beheaded because of his impertinence.”

“Beheaded?” Ami repeated. He seemed surprised by my
prediction.

I had said too much. For good or worse, that was all
I remembered about John the Baptist, as he was commonly known in
Christian circles. Jews who did consider him a historical person
called him a false prophet. I didn’t want to say that for fear
someone in the room might be a secret follower.

Another man commented, “He attacks everyone,
including King Herod Antipas.”

“King Herod is a wicked king,” Levi said.

The conversation turned away from me and the
discussion went elsewhere. As I sat listening, I became aware of a
stranger outside. I reached over and tapped Dr. Luke on the
shoulder. “A man needs your help outside.”

“What did you say, Daniel?”

I repeated myself, this time drawing too much
attention.

“A person is at
the door,” Levi said. “Check outside. Daniel says he heard
someone.”

Ami paused as a
hotel guest went to the front door.

Shuffling
noises emanated from the entrance. “Tell Doctor Luke to come. A man
has been beaten and is bleeding.”

Dr. Luke stared
at me. I didn’t know what to say. How did I know?

Two Weeks Later

I no longer
feared for my life, but I did fear never finding my way home. After
all, I had no idea how I had arrived in first century Israel—which
seemed barbaric. What would it be like to live here for the rest of
my life? I would never see my sister again, or my brother. He
couldn’t reveal his whereabouts except to one family member—or my
mother. I chuckled. I would probably miss my mother the least. Then
there were my friends. I sighed. No more computers, Internet,
movies or cars—how would I survive?

I touched the
ridge on my forehead—the only visible link to my past besides my
contacts. The healed mark reminded me that something had cut me.
Reflections from fine glass showed a jagged mark that would
probably never go away.

Without readily
available pen and paper as in modern times, I was forced to make a
mental checklist of what we needed. Dr. Luke would tell me what to
get, and I’d learned to match those things with associations that I
wouldn’t forget. I found this a little challenging at first, but
with practice, it came quite naturally.

It wouldn’t
take me long to buy the supplies and then I could enjoy a leisurely
walk through town. The bazaar was similar to Jerusalem’s Old City.
Dothan was a major hub along the well-traveled route between
Samaria and Nazareth—a good thing since we received most of our
news from weary travelers passing through.

As I walked
past a women’s boutique I began to daydream. What if I found a
young girl I liked—would I want to stay? I shrugged. Women’s stores
were not called boutiques in the first century. While I was Jewish,
I felt like an outsider. The nuances of language and customs in the
first century were frustrating. How would any Jewish girl here find
me attractive? I hoped I didn’t appear as awkward to others as I
sometimes felt.

Someone called my name, “Daniel.”

I looked
around. No, it couldn’t be! Was that my sister behind the counter?
I rushed over to see.

“What are you doing here?” Martha asked. “Mother
said you wanted to finish your studies before you came to see my
new store.”

I stared at
her. Was she really my sister? She looked like her, she knew my
name, and she had my sister’s mannerisms, but what was she doing
here?