Destiny

EIGHTY-FIVE

“Outside!” shouted Marcus. “Earthquake! Keep away from the buildings.”

“Oh shit!” Alicia said, watching the cups and plates crash from behind the bar. The coffee shop emptied in seconds. People struggled to keep their balance, the earth shaking violently under their feet. Marcus, with the spear secure in his pocket, held Bahir by the back of the old man’s shirt and helped him find the door. Dust billowed from the streets, blowing through the shop like hot ash.

They made it outside, the force of the earthquake knocking Alicia down. Marcus lifted her up. “Get to the center of the street!”

Hundreds of tourists, shop owners, and business people scattered across the streets of the Old City, the earth moving and shaking beneath them. Marcus looked to the west and saw a construction crane topple into a nearby high-rise building, shattering windows and sending a stream of glass and debris to the streets below. Ancient stones rained down from structures and archways that have stood on the same ground for a thousand years.

Large cracks erupted in dozens of spots on the wall that encircled the Old City. Stones dropped from the Western Wall, sending worshipers fleeing. There was nowhere to run as the Old City swayed and bucked, the earth rose and pitched, stretching and shaking its shoulders as if it was coming out of a long slumber. The Dome of the Rock shook and groaned. Lions Gate crumbled, creating an open passageway.

Then it stopped. In less than forty-five seconds, the earthquake ended as abruptly as it had started. Immense dust clouds rose above the city. Marcus looked up and saw the sun turn blood red through the dust. Air-raid sirens and alarms rang out. People cried. Some stumbled around, dazed, going into shock, bleeding, weeping, and calling out names of loved ones.

Marcus turned to Alicia. “Are you hurt?”

“Just bruised. Maybe it’s over.”

“There may be aftershocks. Bahir, are you hurt?”

The old man said nothing. He stood in the center of the street and prayed silently. He glanced up at the red sun, turned to Marcus and said, “It is time.”

“What do you mean, it is time?”

“It is the sign. Come.” He walked toward his coffee shop.

“Don’t!” Marcus shouted. “There may be an aftershock.”

“It is over. Come! Now, Paul!”

“Don’t let him go in there alone!” Alicia yelled.

Marcus ran to the door and put his hand on Bahir’s shoulder. “Let’s stay outside.”

“The earthquake is finished. I have something to show you.” He walked inside his shop. Marcus followed. Alicia hesitated a few seconds, looked at the debris around her, smoke and dust boiling over the city, the blare of air-raid sirens and the cries of injured people. She ran inside the coffee shop. Bahir led them behind the counter, stepping over broken cups, dishes and pots of spilled coffee. He found a large flashlight and walked into the back room.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked.

“I want to show you something.” He opened a locked cabinet, pulled out a large rolled paper, removed a rubber band and unfolded the paper on his desk. It was a map.

“This is the map of excavations done when the British explorers, Charles Wilson and Charles Warren were here. At that time, of course, this building was not a coffee shop. It was a supply center for their tools. Only a few people alive know it was the last opening they dug into a series of tunnels that unearthed beneath Jerusalem.” Bahir slowly traced the light across the map, a drawing that was more than a century old. It illustrated a series of tunnels under Jerusalem. Alicia looked at Marcus and then at Bahir.

“Why are you showing us that?” she asked.

“Because it was prophesied that which was sealed up, below, would be opened by the force above.” He looked at Marcus. “The hand of God may have opened the door. If so, will you enter?”

“Enter where?”

Bahir knelt down and rolled away a rich Persian rug across the floor. He unlocked a wooden trapdoor and lifted it. Then he pointed the light into the dark. There was an old ladder propped near the entrance. Marcus could see it led to a tunnel. “Bahir, what am I searching for?”

“If the earthquake has removed the barrier, a place even Wilson and Warren never found, you might find that which was left behind by Daniel. It’s been sealed for centuries, but perhaps the time for the unveiling is now among us.”

Marcus looked at the old map. “Which way would I go?”

Bahir pointed with the tip of his bent index finger, tracing the series of excavations that went in seven directions, one forming a loop, one stopping in a dead-end. “There is an area beneath the Jaffee Gate, here is the Temple Mount, and over there is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This last tunnel…it is believed to lead to the Holy Place and an inner room called the Holy of Holies. It splits in sections.” He used a pencil to mark the continuation of the tunnel. “This is the way you should go.”

“What is the Holy of Holies?” Alicia asked.

“It is said to be God’s sanctuary, for atonement and renewal of spirit — the Most Holy Place.”

“Why do you think Marcus should go there?” she asked.

Bahir shifted his eyes from the map to Alicia. “The Holy Place is a sacred altar room before God’s earthly sanctuary, and it may hold clues to…,” Bahir stopped talking for a second, then continued, “he may realize more than he finds.”

Marcus looked at Alicia, tiny particles of dust moving through the beam of light. “Will you go with me?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes.”