“SHIRA, GO BACK to sleep,” I whispered. “Jesus is here.”
The guards eyed Shira and lowered their guns. What danger could we pose with a small child?
Daniel and the uniformed men conversed in Hebrew. Because they spoke rapidly with heavy accents, I wasn’t sharp enough to catch most of it. My year and a half of Hebrew earned me an “A” but didn’t make me conversant with Israelis.
The taller man motioned for us to follow. He punched a code into the keypad of the heavy steel door. After a few seconds, the door opened.
We entered a small vestibule. The ominous shadows that flickered over the walls from the emergency lighting felt cold and calculating—walls that I knew were an illusion.
I expected bright floodlights to illuminate our surroundings and to see the impressive command center humming with computers and TV screens. Cameras set up in strategic locations around Jerusalem monitored hotspots and beamed back photographs and video. But no one was here.
The uniformed officer pushed open a hidden door on the opposite side. As we entered, a cool breeze poured in, probably from an air conditioning vent. The guard said nothing, and I found the silence unnerving.
We followed him through a narrow hallway. My anxiety increased. I’d never remember how to get out if something went wrong. I reached for Daniel’s arm. He shot me a reassuring glance.
The guard flipped a light switch as we entered through an unmarked door. “Jacob will be here shortly,” he said. Then he left.
Once the door was shut, I tried to relax.
“The guards are all business,” Daniel said. “They have their orders. Even when they know we’re one of them, they won’t deviate.”
I held Shira close to me. “What did the guard say? You talked so fast.”
“When you told Shira Jesus was here, their demeanor changed. Up until then, I don’t think they believed I was Jacob’s brother. They thought we were spies.”
“Oh.” I glanced around the room. A black leather sofa filled up one wall with matching chairs on each side. Three photographs above the sofa highlighted historical Jewish landmarks—the temple mount, Masada, and a third location I didn’t recognize. I pointed to it. “Where is that?”
Daniel eased closer to the photo. “That’s Petra, in Jordan.”
I knew it as Bozrah, spoken of in the Book of Isaiah. I edged over. Off to the side of the room was a small kitchenette and bathroom. On the kitchen counter was a well-used tea kettle stained from previous use. White plastic cups and an assortment of herbal teas filled a straw container. A square refrigerator took up the rest of the counter space.
I noticed an open Bible on the coffee table. I started to walk over to see what page someone had been reading, but Daniel picked it up and commented.
“Someone underlined this passage in red. Ezekiel 38:14-16: ‘On that day when my people Israel dwell safely, will you not know it? Then you will come from your place out of the far north, you and many peoples with you, all of them riding on horses, a great company, and a mighty army. You will come up against my people Israel like a cloud to cover the land. It will be in the latter days that I will bring you against my land, so that the nations may know me when I am hallowed in you, O Gog, before their eyes.’”
I stepped back from the table and sat on the sofa. Shira readjusted herself in my lap, clutching my shirt. “Whoever was in here must have believed Israel was facing the Ezekiel 38-39 war.”
Daniel sat beside me.
I glanced at the closed door. “Is your brother coming?”
“I hope.” Daniel leaned back, nodding off.
He had to be as tired as I was. Shira had closed her eyes again. Suddenly, a crazy thought swirled in my head. “Daniel, what if we went back to the seventh dimension?”
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To order,
