The Pestilence (7 page)

“Don't bother. We are not thirsty. You have five minutes then I'm calling campus security.”

Hazel powered up her laptop and logged into the campus Wi-Fi. She didn't bother to ask for the password; she tapped the pencil onto her teeth for the seven seconds her machine took to hack into the network. She took Samuel and Mariam through the mechanics of the timeline, demonstrating how it tracked all the Internet activity starting from the airstrike and continuing to the hospitals they had visited. Mariam being the good scientist was naturally inquisitive, peppering Hazel's presentation with questions. Samuel sat listening quietly.

“Okay,” said Mariam. “Let's say for a moment there is something miraculous happening. There is nothing in your timeline that proves Samuel or I were responsible for any of it. You have us in Jericho, fine, we were there. From then on you have nothing to link us to these things.”

“After the airstrike, why did you go to Jericho and not the local hospital?” asked Bill.

Mariam took a moment. “I wasn't thinking straight, the Israeli Air Force had just blown us up.”

“Don't,” warned Samuel, her intentions becoming clear to him.

Mariam ignored him. “We came straight back here after Jericho and have been in the flat since about 5 p.m.” Mariam sat back on the sofa defiantly crossing her arms.

Hazel said, “You can't have done. You just got back ten minutes ago. We have been sitting in the car park waiting for you since 7.45 p.m. What took you so long at the Sinai General?”

Mariam looked at Samuel; he just shrugged.

“You did this, didn't you?” Hazel pushed her laptop towards them. It was the cell phone video taken at the Children's Relief Hospital in Jericho. The screen showed a young man's bandaged hand. As he props the phone on the side of the bed, the change of angle allows the viewer to catch a glimpse of the back of a man moving through the curtains followed by a woman with dark curly hair. The young man unwraps the heavy bandages on his damaged hand. His hand is a bloody mess, ghastly stitched wounds over three missing fingers. The camera stays on the mangled hand for a few seconds and then the young man's stitches burst open. Three new fingers push out like seedlings on a time lapse camera breaking through fresh soil.

At the conclusion of the video, the only sound in the room was Hazel tapping her pencil on her teeth.

“How long can you do this in secret?” said Bill. “The news is already out there. People only need to join the dots and they quickly will. We just did our homework and got to you first. By tomorrow you are going to have thousands of people practically kicking in your door. All I am asking is that you let us break the story together, your way, with you having full control.”

“No,” said Mariam. “There is nothing, no news to break. Your five minutes are up.”

Samuel said nothing. Hazel looked at Bill and made up her mind to try another approach.

“Samuel, I believe you are the worker of these miracles.” Hazel placed her note pad on the settee and kept the pencil twirling through her fingers. She stood and moved over to stand beside Bill. “Something remarkable happened to you, Samuel and now you are able to do remarkable things.” Hazel slipped her left hand into Bill's. He didn't outwardly register any surprise, just pleasantly held onto Hazel's hand like he was sixteen again. “You've been chosen, haven't you Samuel?” Hazel turned her palm so Bill's hand was above her own and she interlocked her fingers tightly with his.

“I can read your intentions,” said Samuel softly. “Don't do it.”

“I have been thinking about this for hours and there is no other explanation for what we have seen today and I really need to know if I'm right. I'm so sorry Bill.”

Hazel stabbed Bill through the back of his hand with her pencil. She drove it with as much force as she could muster, snapping it in two. Hazel felt the pencil punching through Bill's hand and then continuing on to gouge a hole in her own palm. Hopping around the apartment in agony, his injured hand clamped between his thighs, Bill let out such an absurdly high-pitched scream that Samuel couldn't help laughing.

Hazel calmly looked down at her own unintended stigmata, the extent of her own strength surprising her. “Well?” she said to Samuel expectantly.

Bill withdrew his injured hand from his thigh and screamed again when he saw the end of the pencil still embedded in it.

“Bill, stand still so I can fix this.” Samuel placed his hands on Bill's face with his thumbs covering his eyes. Energy began to flow and the pencil was pushed out by the regenerating bone and tissue. The wound didn't even leave a scar.

“Hey, what about me?” said Hazel holding up her wounded palm.

“You're a reckless idiot,” smiled Samuel and pointed to the bandages that Mariam had left on the kitchen counter. “You can use those.”

***

MARIAM rested her head on Samuel's chest, her arm draped across his sleeping torso. Jerusalem was still, her apartment quiet, but Mariam found it hard to settle. A dedication to astronomy had made her sleeping rhythms unpredictable. Samuel's breathing was slow, relaxed and peaceful. He shared the same strength of character as her late father. It had been so many years since she had seen him alive she had to think hard now just to picture his face. Mariam felt that she was looking through a pool of rippling water to find him; his reflection appearing for a moment and then lost to the depths. She recalled the years of Sunday school classes she would feign sleep to avoid. Her father insisting she learn scripture. An element of his devoutness was embedded within her, un-conflicted by her love of science. It was almost 2 a.m. Jerusalem time: Six hours until Bill and Hazel would return and the circus would truly begin; twenty-four hours since the airstrike; twenty-four hours since the lightning. She began to sink into sleep. Her mind flitted to Sister Teresa, her Sunday school teacher, earnest face and warty hands. Twenty-four hours since her world was turned upside down. Twenty-four. 24:27 Matthew:
For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man
.

***

THE bell rang at exactly 8 a.m. Samuel was still dressing in some old clothes he had previously left at Mariam's apartment. He was able to dispense with his bloodied shirt but the leftovers didn't extend to shoes so he had to keep his deeply unfashionable sandals.

Finishing up her scrambled eggs, Mariam buzzed in Bill and Hazel. They looked refreshed and were beaming with excitement and energy and had brought with them a BBC cameraman and sound engineer. The six of them crammed into Mariam's apartment while she put her beloved espresso machine onto the stove. For Hazel she brewed some English Breakfast tea.

Bill outlined the day's itinerary. “You are going back to the Sinai General. It's the biggest hospital in the country. I have spoken to the hospital's CEO. He's a friend of my editor and he agreed to let us film on site with access to patients. I told him we were making a documentary.”

Mariam shot Bill a look. “What kind of documentary?”

“How the terminally ill respond to comedy.”

Mariam looked at Samuel.

Hazel spoke up. “Mariam, people need to see Samuel in action before they believe. If Bill had tried to persuade the CEO to let a healer into his hospital he would have laughed him off the phone. We just need to get Samuel in there. Once he starts healing nobody's going to stop him and we will have all the footage we need to break the story.”

Bill continued, “We have a thirty-minute special programme going out tonight at seven. We are broadcasting globally. I want to make the evening and afternoon news cycles in Europe and the US.” Bill cautiously pointed at Samuel. “After we finish up at the hospital I want to sit down and interview you. It will provide some background and editorial context. We have some studio time booked.”

Samuel shook his head. “No interview Bill. I want this programme to make it easier for me to reach as many people as possible. So I can walk into any hospital or clinic and for people to understand what I'm doing there and just let me get on with it. I don't want to make this about me.”

“Samuel,” said Bill gently, “an interview is important as people will have questions.”

Samuel shrugged. “I have no answers. I honestly don't.”

Hazel floated the idea of obtaining the background they needed from Bill interviewing Dalia and Mariam. Mariam considered this for a moment and much to Samuel's surprise she agreed.

“Okay, so the hospital wants us to sign these disclaimers,” said Hazel handing out some photocopied forms. “The hospital CEO has arranged that the registrar on duty will show us around. He is meeting us at the entrance of the hospital in thirty-five minutes. Also, before we go I want to show you both something. In the excitement of yesterday I forgot to mention this.” Hazel flipped open her laptop and she clicked through to a saved link. They saw a CCTV image of the Parisian skyline. “Nowhere else on Earth did this happen. The Electrical Phenomenon only grounded here. You can see two strikes, the second for a much longer duration than the first. The floor the lightning strikes is owned by VPC Capital, Managing Partner Victor Pierre Chaput. He was there when the lightning hit. It seems that Samuel and Chaput share a mutual connection to the Electrical Phenomenon.”

Samuel shrugged. “Shall we get going? I have work to do at the hospital.”

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 14 days. Information source: Telephone intercept between Victor Pierre Chaput and Stefano Grigori.

Victor Pierre Chaput: The story's broken Stefano, he is on every media channel, every news organisation on the planet.

Stefano Grigori: Yes sir, I know.

Victor Pierre Chaput: What happened to your agent in Jericho? You were supposed to get me eyes on this man.

Stefano Grigori: Sorry sir, the phone we were tracking was only switched on intermittently. We can't track a phone that is not communicating with a cell tower. Our field agent couldn't acquire the target in Jericho, sir. The phone has been in use today in Jerusalem and we have eyes on them now.

Victor Pierre Chaput: As Mr Srour has so publically announced himself we won't from now on have any difficulty in finding him. I want you to change the focus of the investigation to the people around him. I want background on his family and friends. Do your due diligence and report back to me in twenty-four hours.

Stefano Grigori: Yes sir, no problem.

***

DALIA Srour hung up the phone on the nice lady from the insurance company. Dalia had called more out of hope than any expectation. The nice lady had been professional and sincere. She offered her sympathies and said that even though officially the two countries were at peace, an airstrike was still an act of war and an act of war was specifically excluded from their insurance policy. Dalia would have to seek government assistance for the restoration of their loss. Given the chaotic state of the new government Dalia knew that they would receive nothing. Dalia sunk into Khalid's sofa. The destruction of her family home was definitive. The call had underlined the bare fact that they had no means to rebuild their lives. After her son, the war had now wrenched another thing from her. Dalia blinked to try and catch her bitter tears.

Dalia's cell rang. She felt a rush of relief to see Mariam's number on the display. Mariam filled Dalia in on the events that occurred since they had spoken the previous day. Dalia dabbed her eyes and listened in amazed silence. Mariam asked Dalia to agree to be interviewed for the news special by Bill Irons, the journalist that had called her yesterday. Dalia liked Bill; his article rightly absolved her family of any blame for the attack. The BBC would send a car to Haifa to bring her to Jerusalem. Dalia didn't know what else to say other than to agree.

***

“SO you're a comedian,” said the registrar eyeing Samuel suspiciously. “I've never met a comedian before. I must say I'm mildly disappointed, I thought you would look funnier.”

“He is a comedian, not a clown,” said Mariam.

“And who are you?”

“I'm his manager,” she replied.

Samuel nudged Mariam as they walked up to the ward followed by the camera crew and the two journalists. “I do know a joke,” he whispered. Mariam looked unimpressed. “So, Jesus and Mary Magdalene were hanging out in Jesus' apartment. They had a busy day and wanted to unwind. Jesus went to the fridge and took out a bottle. Mary Magdalene said to him, “Have you turned it into wine yet?” Jesus read the label and shook his head. “Nope, it says Still Water.”

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 14 days. Information source: Telephone intercept between Mariam Fara and unknown.

Mariam Fara: Hi, this is Mariam, how are you, how's Dina doing?

Unknown: Mariam, hi. Yes, Dina is in good spirits, bursting with energy. She is playing football in the yard, can you hear her?

Mariam Fara: I can, she sounds wonderfully happy.

Unknown: We all are. What Samuel did for her, for me and my wife, is beyond imagination. We feel nothing but gratitude and love for him.

Mariam Fara: Thank you for your kind words. I called because I wanted to forewarn you. Samuel is going to be on the 7 p.m. news tonight. He believes that by going public he will be able to reach more people.

Unknown: I don't doubt his wisdom.

Mariam Fara: We are only publicising his healing abilities.

Unknown: I understand.

Mariam Fara: I am sorry to bring this up, but I just got an awkward question today from a journalist. He was asking about rumours regarding Dina.

Unknown: I can assure you we have worked hard to keep our side of the bargain. There were a large number of people at Dina's resurrection and we have spoken to everyone there.

Mariam Fara: Please try and speak to them again. I just want to buy a little time so we can work out what's happening. Things are moving so fast.

Unknown: Sometimes, Mariam, honesty is the best policy.

Mariam Fara: Am not so sure.

Unknown: I'll speak to my family again I promise. Mariam, I have been praying and consulting scripture about the miracle we witnessed yesterday. Do you read the Bible?

Mariam Fara: I have done, yes. I know what verse you are thinking about.

Unknown: I have the verse here right in front of me; can I read it to you?

Mariam Fara: You don't have to, I know it, but go on.

Unknown:
They came to the house of the ruler of the synagogue, and they saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. And when he had entered, he said to them, “Why are you making a commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But he put them all outside and took the child's father and mother and those who were with him and went in where the child was. Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi,” which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.” And immediately the girl got up and began walking (for she was twelve years of age), and they were immediately overcome with amazement.

Mariam Fara: It's not the same. It's not the same. Samuel is just a man.

***