path of switchbacks, which exited the olive grove. Ten feet in front of him stood a Roman soldier, apparently placed to stop any would-be rescue efforts by desperate disciples. This man alone, while not a huge physical threat to a group of disciples, carried the weight of the Roman Empire. If the soldier was killed, it would be open season on the disciples. The guard saw Tom coming and after pushing his red cape out of the way, drew his sword, thinking a show of force would be enough.
Tom eyed the sword, but knew the outcome of most fights often depended on who struck first, on who was most aggressive. Brute force didn’t replace his tactics-brute force was his tactic. Tom ran straight for the soldier.
“Stop where you are!” the soldier yelled, caught off guard by Tom’s undaunted charge.
Tom collided with the soldier like a battering ram. The soldier sailed through the air and slammed against a tree. The man slid to the ground and hit his head on a stone. Tom pressed on, satisfied that the soldier wouldn’t be running anyone through anytime soon.
David rounded the corner and saw the crumpled guard. Tom was insane! If he didn’t stop, he’d get killed. David ran faster, not noticing the shadow watching him from the side of the path, just behind a fallen tree.
Tom dug his feet into the dirt and stopped at the edge of a thirty-foot cliff. He turned around as he heard the crunch of sandals on dirt and saw David rounding the corner at top speed.
David caught a glimpse of the approaching drop off and began slowing his legs, but couldn’t stop his forward momentum quickly enough. David reached out and grabbed hold of Tom to stop himself and nearly took both of them over the edge. Tom’s muscles groaned as he pushed against the force of David’s body.
After coming to a complete stop, David looked down. His feet were dangling over the edge. Tom yanked him back. “That was…that was close,” David said with a concerned look.
Tom moved toward the cliff again and peered over the edge. His mouth dropped open. “This is impossible.”
A contingent of twenty-five Roman soldiers brandishing swords and spears marched down the trail with Jesus at their center. The group was led by a mob of Pharisees and Judas.
Slumping to his knees, Tom watched helplessly. “Damn it.”
“Nothing we did…could have changed what has happened…or what will happen,” David said while sucking in air.
“Tell me,” said Tom.
“What?”
“Tell me what’s going to happen.”
“I’m not sure I sho-”
“Tell me, David. Now. I can’t change it. At least prepare me for it.”
“Not here. That Roman soldier’s going to wake up soon and I don’t think either of us could stand any more excitement.”
“You’re right, let’s-”
Pang! A chip of rock between the two men blasted into the air. They locked in on the airborne object and began analyzing the phenomenon.
“What was that?” Tom asked, bewildered.
Tom watched as David searched the area like a frightened meerkat on patrol. What was he looking for? Tom saw David’s eyes widen and followed them to the source of intrigue. A glint of light, reflecting off what must have been glass, was all Tom saw before David was moving. “Get down!” David yelled, as he tackled Tom to the ground.
Puch! Dirt exploded from the ground and splayed across Tom’s face. “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s Roberts! Run!” David shouted.
The two men jumped to their feet and ran back to the path, which led down the side of the cliff. Tom looked back as they descended the steep incline and saw a man dressed in a bright new robe-too new-jumping out of the trees and chasing after them. And in his hand?
A Gun.
With a silencer.
Roberts.
The time enforcer.
The killer.
Tom pushed even harder.
It occurred to him that if they continued at this speed, down the path of switchbacks, they would soon run into the entourage of troops transporting Jesus. It was death in either direction. But apparently, David was one step ahead.
David grabbed Tom by the robe and headed off the path. “This way!”
The two men half ran, half slid down the steep grassy slope. If they made it down this portion of hillside fast enough, they would rejoin the path just before the Roman soldiers. It was going to be close. They might find their lives ended at the tips of Roman spears instead of modern bullets, but there was little choice, and spears had a much shorter range than bullets.
Captain Roberts cursed himself. He had two clear headshots and missed them both. He could have stopped them dead in their tracks and returned to the future without having to worry about justifying David and Tom’s deaths. One look at the men told Roberts that they had been living in ancient Israel for months, maybe even years. Their clothing was more authentic then his own and they were speaking Aramaic. Roberts had studied detailed backgrounds on both men. He knew Tom couldn’t speak the language, but here he was, speaking it fluently. This meant Tom had been here long enough to learn it, which also meant he had broken so many rules of time travel ethics that killing him was well within reason.
After only fifty feet, Roberts gave up the chase. The savage after effects of time travel were still wreaking havoc on his body. That’s what caused him to miss. He should have waited. He should have planned better. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Turning his head to the left, Roberts vomited like he was casually belching. He wiped his mouth and before he could formulate a plan “Don’t move!” demanded a male voice in Aramaic.
Roberts turned toward the voice. It was the Roman soldier he had watched Tom rough up. Roberts made no attempt to hide his grin. These soldiers were jokes; poorly trained, poorly equipped jokes. Roberts could see it in the man’s eyes. He was a coward with a sword, hiding behind the Roman insignia on his armor.
The Roman soldier backed away as Roberts strolled toward him, still smiling wolfishly. Roberts drew his knife and let the sun reflect off it into the soldier’s eyes. The soldier blinked and blocked the light with his hand. He regained his sight quickly, but only just quickly enough to see Roberts’s fist rapidly approach his face.
The ground sunk as the soldier fell on it like a tipped cow. If Roberts hadn’t become a soldier, he would have made a champion boxer. After sheathing his bloodless knife, he suppressed his urge to kill. Killing civilians wasn’t part of the plan, unless they got between him and his prey. This soldier was lucky. Roberts simply vented a few frustrations. He could have vented them all.
Tom and David ran for ten minutes straight before stopping for air, then quickly made their way to the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha, where they hoped they could rest and find safety. Their welcome was far more than David expected. They were hugged and kissed on the cheeks, even by the gargantuan Lazarus.
David surmised that Mary must have shared her feelings for Tom with her siblings because they now treated Tom like family. But the happy reunion was short lived. David and Tom explained what had happened in the garden of Gethsemane: Judas, the soldiers and Pharisees. Lazarus, normally strong and composed, found himself unable to stand at the news.
When Tom and David told the story, they left Captain Roberts’s assassination attempt out. There was no way it could be explained so that it made sense.
The night was long for everyone, though Tom and David fell fast asleep after their physically exhausting ordeal. As David lay in bed with his eyes closed, he felt a strange sensation. As a child on the night before the first day of Hanukkah, David would always go to bed early. His theory was that the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner it
