The Deliverer (3 page)

“No reason except it seemed important to you. Suppose such a thing had actually happened. Why would the idea distress you so?”

Silence.

I shouldn’t have said “distress.”

“Then he has contacted you.” His voice
was
distressed. “You said no one … ”

“What? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Seeing her reflection in the mirror on the wall, she began a silent exchange with herself.

You’re having a conversation with a deeply disturbed man about someone who’s been dead for five thousand years—if he ever existed at all. No wonder you can’t sleep. Wonk doesn’t seem capable of playing mind games, but what else can he be doing?

“I was only curious to know what you meant,” she continued gently. “It’s hard to understand why you would care about something that might have happened so long ago.”

Silence.

One second, two seconds, three …

“He must not get the scrolls, Dr. Yale. You must promise me that will not happen. You have no idea the consequences if … ”

“No, it’s OK. I’m sure I can keep them safe.” She glanced at her reflection again to see if she looked sincere.

“Tomorrow, Dr. Yale. Wait for them. Remember your promise.” The dial tone signaled the end of the conversation.

Samantha clicked the end button on her phone, sighed with relief that the conversation was over, and sat down on the window seat as she lingered at her personal portal of the world.

“Sign here, Dr. Yale.” The burly man in the brown delivery uniform handed her the electronic notebook to register her signature as the authorized recipient of a carefully packed crate. She scrawled her name in silence, not wanting to engage him in any conversation that might delay his leaving. The man was barely out the door before she found a sturdy letter opener in the desk drawer and began prying open the container. At last the lid slid off, and Styrofoam peanuts went flying as her hands carefully reached inside the box. Just as she had done with the first scrolls, she gently removed each of the twelve and laid them out in what she guessed would be a somewhat chronological order on her conference table. Her only hope was that Wonk, or whoever packed them, had some appreciation for sequence.

Selecting the first scroll, she carried it to her desk and gently unrolled it. To an untrained eye it would have looked exactly like any one of the others she had already examined and locked away. Only an expert would recognize the difference in the markings of the ancient written language of the Phoenicians, cuneiform, which predated hieroglyphics by who knew how many centuries.

“I wish I knew what this material is,” Samantha said, talking to herself as she fingered the scroll kept her from rushing through the delicate process.

With magnifying glass in hand, she peered intently at the first line.

“Are you in there?” She spoke aloud as if the scroll was listening. “A fallen angel with no name; what do you want to tell me? How can I help you if I don’t know your name?”

C
HAPTER
2

S
AMANTHA GLANCED AT
the clock to make note of the time. Reaching for her pen, she took a slow, deep breath and began the meticulous translation of each symbol.

“Talk to me,” she whispered to the scroll.

“Come with me, Samantha,” the voice inside her head answered. “This is how it was.”

If he had remembered the first thing about God, Satan could have expected this to happen eventually. God would not leave the children of Abraham in slavery forever. Granted, after four hundred thirty years of silence, a casual observer might wonder if God had finally cut His losses with the Hebrews and gone on to other things, but a person who really knew God would never indulge such a thought. A person who truly knew God, as Satan most certainly had at one point, would never come to such a conclusion no matter how bad the situation looked or how long it might take to fix it.

God promised the Hebrews that He would send a deliverer. It was certain to happen one day, and then one day it did. As soon as I knew the expected one was on the earth, I flew directly to Satan’s lair to let him know. Satan ran right over the top of me as he raced to the edge of the second heaven and began yelling at God.

“Go away, God. Go far away. Nobody remembers You here. Give them up. Find another hobby. Cut Your losses. You are not wanted. Your creation has turned against You. They worship
me.
I will kill them before I see them turn back to You. I will die before I allow them to escape.”

Those were his exact words as he stood on the rim and berated God. Then it got worse.

“You think You can save them?” Satan bellowed. “Go ahead. Try to snatch them out of my hands. But it will cost You, God. Oh, it will cost You more than You are willing to pay.”

Satan rolled in laughter at his threat against the Almighty, as if he had caught God in some terrible joke only they knew. His countenance changed again, and with yellow, hideous eyes, he roared and then bleated as if he were some tortured animal. Next, he began frothing from his mouth and spinning on the floor like a captured tornado. He was completely mad; there was no other way to describe it. At last he collapsed in a heap; it was finally over.

It took awhile, but Satan eventually pulled himself together and made his way back to his den. The demons stepped aside, avoiding eye contact with him and pretending not to have noticed the public meltdown of their ruler. I tried to slip out quietly without being seen by His Horribleness. I hoped I could avoid the badgering I knew Satan would assail against me because of this turn of events. I had nothing to do with the arrival of the deliverer, and the last thing I wanted was to be the depository for his anger at God. So, of course, that’s the very first thing that happened.

“Come with me,” Satan ordered.

I braced for a tongue-lashing and followed him into his dark abode. He sat down on his granite throne, and I knelt down before him. For what seemed a long time, he said nothing at all. His silence was almost harder to bear than his tantrums. I didn’t dare look up at him. I thought about the news I’d delivered and wondered whether there might have been some other way to have done it, a way that would not have triggered the rage Satan had unleashed against God. I couldn’t think of any. It was what it was. The deliverer was now on the earth. I didn’t cause it, but I had to tell it. That was my job, to watch and report. Finally he spoke.

“Does he have a name?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Moses.”

“How many soldiers has he got?”

I didn’t answer because I had no idea why he was asking me about soldiers. I dared not ask for clarity because doing so might imply that his question was vague, and Satan’s interrogation skills were not subject to criticism. I continued to kneel before him, trying to figure out what he meant. When he rightly discerned I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, he grabbed me by the wing and stood me upright before him.

“The deliverer, idiot,” he said as he thumped me on the head. “How many men does Moses have in his army?” He let go of my wing and then turned away, which gave me a moment to think.

“Army?” What can he mean? I’m sure I didn’t I say anything about an army.
I could feel Satan losing patience with my inability to follow this line of questioning, so I answered the best I could.

“If you mean an army in the conventional sense, sir, he doesn’t have an army per se.”

Satan turned back and looked at me as if I had spoken some incredulous thing.

“No army?”

“No, sir.”

“No soldiers at all? Don’t lie to me.”

“No, sir, I would never dare lie.”

“How does he expect to come against the Egyptians without a militia? Does he think he can simply saunter into Pharaoh’s court and walk out with the slaves without a fight?”

I felt faint when I realized that in giving my report, I’d left out an important detail.

“Oh, I see what you’re asking, terrible one. My fault entirely; of course you’d expect the deliverer of the Hebrews to be a man, a mighty warrior. Why would you assume anything else?”

I might have gone on groveling all afternoon had Satan not leaned into my face and snarled, “I didn’t assume anything. You said the deliverer had come. Are you tracking with me on this?”

I nodded but didn’t make a sound.

“Then he must be a man. God has obligated Himself to work through humans.”

“Yes, sir. I mean no, of course not. But I can see how you might think that. I should have been clearer. Of course he’s a man—just not quite yet. But one day soon. You know how fast they grow.” I continued to prattle on when Satan grabbed me by the tail and jerked me to attention.

“Are you anywhere close to making a point? If he’s not a man, what is he?”

“Well, right now, to be completely accurate, he’s a baby, sir. A little one about this long.” I held my claws about two feet apart to show him. “Not very big at all. Like I said, he will grow into a man, but … ” Satan cut me off with another jerk on my tail.

“You dared waste my time over a Hebrew baby? Not even a grown man?” He thumped me on the head again. “What makes you think he’s the deliverer? Who told you?”

“It was like this, sir … ”

Satan cut me off and began mocking me by clapping his claws together as if suddenly figuring it all out.

“Let me guess. God must have taken you into His confidence.”

I was about to tell him about the baby’s eyes but knew it would be a waste of time.

“I’m quite sure of my facts, my lord. There’s no doubt about who he is. He’s the only male baby to have survived the Egyptians’ sword. He floated right down the Nile in that wicker basket, slick as you please, no leaks, no alligators, no capsizing, right under the noses of the Egyptian soldiers and right into Pharaoh’s backyard. An escape like that has the fingerprints of God all over it.”

Satan had a puzzled look on his face as if I had said something baffling.

“What did you say? What do you mean he went right into Pharaoh’s backyard?”

“That’s just how it was, sir. Pharaoh’s daughter and all her girlfriends were down there splashing around in the river when this baby in a basket came floating by. You know how women are, sir. They can’t resist a baby, no matter what kind of baby it is. Pharaoh’s daughter laid claim to him immediately. Gave him a name right away. Instant motherhood.”

“She will kill him when she figures out he’s a Hebrew.”

“No, I’m quite sure she plans to keep him. She’s already found a nanny for him. Interesting how that happened. She sent someone to find a woman to nurse him, and wouldn’t you know, the friend came back with the baby’s very own mother in tow. What are the odds of that? Of course, the girls didn’t know I was watching. I saw the whole thing.”

By now some of the other demons had decided it was safe to come in to see what was going on. They’d heard most of my explanation. Bezel spoke first.

“Now that we know where he is, we can kill him. End of problem.”

“Oh, really? You’ll kill him? Just like that, will you?” Satan’s sarcasm dripped with hostility as he mocked Bezel’s solution. “Then why didn’t you kill him when you had him? You let him get away. Wasn’t I clear enough? Watch the Hebrew babies and make sure the Egyptians kill the boys. Why do I have to do everything myself?”

Satan threw his arms up in disgust while Bezel kept his head down and his mouth shut, but, oh, I knew what he wished he had the nerve to say. Satan barely took a breath before continuing his tirade.

“Your dereliction in duty has allowed things to become much more complicated. If Pharaoh’s daughter has him, we won’t find any Egyptian soldier brave enough to touch him.”

We hadn’t been dismissed, so we stood in place, avoiding eye contact and waiting to see if Satan had any plans as to what he would do with this turn of events. None of us had any ideas of our own, or if we had, we weren’t about to say so. Ideas were not allowed in Satan’s realm unless they were his. Finally he spoke again.