CHAPTER 7
For the next three days, the Dalys, the Whittakers, and Deborah stayed in their hotel rooms. They discussed incessantly their experiences with Moishe and Eli. Richard and Ryan took turns sharing their first time seeing the two lampstands in person, shortly after the marriage of Ryan and Kristen. Deborah spoke of the numerous times she had visited the witnesses at the Wailing Wall, and the days when they’d begun to counsel her about her brother.
“Yes, it was dangerous to make those midnight visits,” she admitted. “But it was the only time of day I could talk with them in private. There was always a crowd in front of them during the day.” She rubbed her eyes, then glanced down at her Bible resting on the dresser next to Christina’s and Rachel’s. As she shifted position on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagged and creaked beneath her.
Christina nodded. “Yes. And some did heed their message and turn to Jesus for salvation.” She sighed. “But—the vast majority…” She shook her head.
Part of the time, they watched CNN, but had no stomach for it. All over the world, they knew, the networks were running wall-to-wall coverage of the witnesses’ deaths. Thus far, Puccini was refusing to allow their burial, so their bodies lay decomposing on the blood-stained, stone-covered spot where they had been shot. CNN and the other news networks showed their bodies worldwide over and over.
Commentators were droning on and on about the misery Moishe and Eli had brought to the world, and to Israel in particular. One anchorman said, “It is the winter holidays all over again, as people hold parties and exchange presents. Only yesterday, Elijah Dayan and his relatives exchanged an abundance of gifts. And all over the world, people are holding similar celebrations.” Glee rang from his voice; a pleased expression etched his face.
Richard curled his upper lip in disgust. “Well, Revelation predicted this would happen,” he muttered. “This is nothing to celebrate! Why can’t the blind fools realize that?” He leaned his elbow on the window ledge, as he glanced out at the crowds on the street below.
Andrew, who had stopped to visit, nodded agreement. “They are blind.” He shook his head, then smiled. “Don’t despair, though. The Book of Revelation also predicts their resurrection.” He put his hand on Richard’s arm.
Richard nodded in return. “Yes. It does.”
Rachel glared at the TV set. “I wish Mr. Puccini would let them be buried! It’s mean, leaving them out like that.”
Kristen shook her head, cradling Nicole in her arms. Jeremy perched at her feet, playing with a wooden block. “I agree, Rachel.” She shook her head. “The wickedness of so many people.” She sighed. Ryan patted her arm as he pursed his lower lip.
On the late afternoon of the third day, Richard rose to his feet following a lengthy prayer session. He and the others had knelt for the past hour on the thick carpet spanning the room. “Any time now, the witnesses should be resurrected,” he announced. “I don’t know about you, but I want to be there to see it.” He glanced at his watch as he spoke.
Christina leaped to her feet. “So do I!”
“Me, too.” Rachel stood up.
The others followed suit; Ryan and Kristen picked up the babies. “Let’s go, then!” Ryan urged. “We’ll take the kids with us.” He turned to Deborah. “Would you like to come with us?”
Deborah smiled, then shook her head. “Not yet. You go on ahead.” She rubbed her face. “I’ll come later.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Ryan warned. “We don’t know just when God plans to resurrect Moishe and Eli.”
Christina slid her watch onto her wrist, then grabbed her purse and handed Rachel hers. Hurrying out the hotel’s front entrance, the two families hurried down one street, then another, not wanting to miss that event. Rachel trailed behind her mother, looking at the stores that lined each side. I wonder... she thought.
She paused as they passed a gift shop. Pressing her nose against the windowpane, she gazed at the rows of trinkets on their display shelves. When she turned around to catch up to the others, to her horror, they had disappeared! She looked up and down the street for her parents as panic surged in her breast.
They went off without me! she thought. She took a deep breath to calm herself. It’s OK. I know where they’re going. I’ll stop here and look around a little, then I’ll catch up. Maybe I’ll buy something! She glanced down at her purse.
Pushing the glass door open, she entered the store. A bell tinkled above her. Soft Israeli folk music played in the background as she approached the nearest row of shelves. A black-haired woman stood with her back to the girl as Rachel admired a gold jewelry box.
Suddenly, the woman turned around; Rachel hopped back, startled. “Miss Weizmann! I thought you stayed behind.”
“I did.” Deborah sighed. “Then I decided I really didn’t want to stay alone in my hotel room, so I decided to leave. I’m on my way to the Wailing Wall, too, but I decided to stop on the way to get a present for my brother.” She sighed. “Maybe a gift will soften his heart. It will be his birthday soon.” She looked at the gleaming china statuettes lining the shelf next to her. "Tess has loaned me some gold--I'm hoping the manager of this store can be persuaded to accept some, since I don't have a bank account. I didn't have the chance to borrow any from David before he threw me out."
Rachel bit her lower lip. “It must be awful, having him mad at you like that.” She reached up to scratch her cheek.
Sadness creased the woman’s forehead. “It is, Rachel,” she agreed. “It hurts more deeply than anything I can imagine, unless it’s hearing that he had a part in Moishe and Eli’s murder. I can only trust, as the angels have said, that God is working on his heart and that He has everything under control. As Andrew said, their murder was foretold.”
Rachel nodded. What Deborah had just said was true. “I’m going to look around.”
“Where are your parents?” Deborah pivoted to scan the store. “They didn’t come in with you, I see.”
“I—uh, we got separated.” Rachel’s voice faltered. “I stopped to look in the window, and they went on. I know where they’re going, though—I can catch up. I’ll join them at the Wailing Wall.”
Deborah nodded. “Don’t keep them waiting too long. Give me a few moments to find something for my brother, then we’ll go to the Wailing Wall together.”
Nodding acquiescence, Rachel wandered toward the back to examine the displays there. A counter ran the length of the back of the store, stopping just short of the back door. Fifteen feet from the back, a partition ran along half the building, partly dividing the back from the front area. Rachel smiled at the rows of collectors’ dolls wearing traditional Israeli costumes.
They are so pretty! I wonder if Mom would buy me one? She glanced down at her purse as she spoke. Wish I had the money to buy one! Unfortunately, my bank account is low, so I can't. They are so pretty. They’d look so nice on my dresser!
Recent painful memories arose in her head, and she sighed. For the last few days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the witnesses. She missed them so much—their authoritative voices as they preached, their bony hands, the smoky smell that always hung around them. It was so hard to believe that they were dead. It wasn’t fair! She grimaced.
Meanwhile, her parents and her aunt and uncle, who had yet to notice her disappearance, arrived at the spot where the witnesses lay dead. Their faces were discolored, their bodies misshapen. Christina choked back tears as she gazed down at their mangled, decaying bodies. The blood had long since dried on the stone tiles. Each person held his nose to keep out the overpowering scent of decay.
“The poor men!” Christina whispered. “Why did Puccini have to do this to them, anyway?”
“Shh!” Richard’s breath caught. “Look, Christina!” He gaped down at the bodies; following his gaze, Christina did the same.
In that moment, Moses took a deep breath; Elijah did the same. The latter blinked, then opened his eyes. A few seconds later, Moses followed suit. Silence descended on the assembled crowd as the onlookers gaped in shock. The Dalys and Whittakers released their noses, dropping their arms to their sides.
The two witnesses raised their hands, then pulled themselves into sitting positions. Slowly, they rose to their bare feet. They gazed at the crowd with a mixture of anger and sadness, then at the Dalys and Whittakers with approval in their eyes. “Bah!” little Jeremy shouted, waving both hands. Moishe raised his bony hand toward the two-year-old boy. Once more, the scent of ashes wafted toward Christina’s nose.
A thunderous shout prompted Christina to cover her ears. “Come up here!” an unearthly voice shouted. In the next instant, Moishe and Eli rose into the air. Cries of horror burst forth from the mouths of the onlookers. David, hiding behind a corner of the wall, gaped in horror. His prayer shawl adorned his shoulders; he had gone to the Wailing Wall to pray an hour earlier.
“No!” he whispered. “It can’t be!” His body quivered, as the warnings of Christina and Ryan surged into his brain. “It can’t be true! It cannot!”
Meanwhile, back at the gift store, Deborah and Rachel, who had just heard the shout, rushed outside with the other shoppers and the store employees. While they gazed upward, the two witnesses became smaller as they rose yet higher, until they were mere specks. A few seconds later, they disappeared from view. Deborah beamed, craning her neck to watch them go. Rachel stood on tiptoe to get a better look.
The plump Israeli woman and the young American teenager cheered as they rushed inside. “Thank You, God!” Deborah whispered in a choked voice; the two embraced each other. “You predicted You’d raise them back to life, and You have!”
“Amen!” Rachel said.
Deborah glanced at her watch. “I must hurry—I still want to buy a gift for my brother.” She grimaced. "I hope the cashier and manager come back in soon, so I can make my purchase and leave!" She glared at the cash register, standing unattended on its counter. So far, no one else had re-entered the gift shop.
“I’ll go to the back and look around.” Rachel smiled. “They have some real pretty collector’s dolls back there!”
“I’ll call you when I’m ready,” Deborah told her. “We must hurry if we’re to rejoin the others.”
Rachel departed for the back of the store; Deborah returned to the row of shelves featuring the statuettes. For the next few minutes, she ran her fingers over the smooth surfaces of several figurines. Suddenly, the floor began to shake beneath her; objects slid off their shelves. “Oh!” she cried. “There’s something else the Book of Revelation predicted—an earthquake! How could I have forgotten about that?!”
Screaming, she rushed toward the front entrance; in that instant, the ceiling caved in on her. Meanwhile, in the back of the store, Rachel stumbled toward the counter and huddled underneath. Minutes passed as the building crashed behind her; distant terrified screams reached her ears from the streets. She covered her head with both arms. Miss Weizmann! she thought. Please, God, don’t let her get hurt!
Unknown to her, Andrew stood, holding the counter up to keep it from collapsing on Rachel. “Don’t be frightened, Rachel,” he said softly. “God is with you, and He will take good care of you. Deborah, too.”
Rachel couldn’t hear the angel’s voice, but an unexpected calm flowed through her heart. Is this what Jesus meant when He said, “My peace I give you, not as the world gives”? she silently wondered. Even when things are scary like this? She banged her head against the top of the counter; pain exploded in her head. “Ow!” she cried, clutching her scalp.
The violent shaking went on and on. How much longer? she silently screamed. Please, God, make it stop! Trembling, the young girl remained crouched under the counter and scrooged her eyes shut. In that instant, the lights went out. Darkness enveloped the store.
END OF CHAPTER 7