listening to Decker's thoughts.
'Uh… yeah, I guess so,' Decker answered.
The days leading up to his return to Israel to find Christopher had been the most anxious of Decker's life. At times he could barely concentrate on his work as he counted the days until Christopher's return and anticipated what would follow. Milner had talked about a time so dark and bleak that the destruction of the Russian Federation and the Disaster would seem mild by comparison. Somehow the horror which might otherwise have consumed Decker at such a thought was mitigated by the hope which Milner also foresaw. Certainly, to this point, nothing cataclysmic had occurred – though the unrest in India and Pakistan might well foreshadow such events. Decker realized he would have to accept the bad along with the good. He just didn't want to dwell on it, especially if, as Milner indicated, such events were inevitable.
Ahead on the trail, a shapeless form began to take on definition. Had Decker noticed it before, he would have thought it was a bush or a tree stump or perhaps an animal, but until this moment it had blended so well into the background that it seemed an inseparable part of its surroundings. 'There he is,' said Milner.
Decker pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. As they got closer, he began to wonder again in what condition they would find Christopher. The last time they were together, Christopher had told Decker that he was beginning to wonder whether in the final analysis, his life had been a mistake. Now, forty days later, he was – according to Milner – the man who would lead mankind into 'the final and most glorious step in its evolution.'
In another moment they could see him clearly. His coat and clothes were dirty and tattered. He looked thin but strong. Over the forty days his hair had grown over his ears and he now had a full beard. When Decker saw his face, he was startled for a moment by the astounding resemblance to the face on the Shroud. One thing, however, was very obviously different. The face on the Shroud was peaceful and accepting in death: on Christopher's face was the look of a man driven to achieve his mission.
Milner was the first one out of the jeep. He ran to Christopher and embraced him. Patting Christopher on the back caused a small cloud of dust to rise from his clothes. Christopher then went to Decker, who reached out his hand but Christopher refused it, then instead hugged him as well. He smelled awful, but Decker held him for a long time anyway.
'Are you all right?' Decker asked. 'I've been worried about you.'
'Yes, yes. I'm fine.' Then turning slightly to address both Decker and Milner, he continued. 'It's all clear now. It was all part of the plan.'
'What plan?' asked Decker.
'I've spoken with my father. He wants me to finish the task.'
'You mean… God? You talked with God?!'
Christopher nodded. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'He wants me to complete the mission I began 2000 years ago. And I need your help; both of you.'
Decker felt as though he was standing on the crest of a tidal wave. Suddenly his life had more meaning than he ever imagined possible. He believed what Milner had told him about Christopher's destiny; if he hadn't he never would have left Christopher alone in the desert. But then it had all been cerebral. Now he was hearing it from Christopher's own lips. This was a turning point, not only in the lives of these three men, but of time itself. Just as the coming of Christ had divided time between B.C. and A.D., this too, would be a line of demarcation from which all else would be measured. This undoubtedly was the birth of a New Age. Decker wished that Elizabeth were alive to share it with him.
'What can we do?' Decker managed.
'We must return to New York immediately,' Christopher answered. 'Millions of lives are at stake.'
Before leaving New York, Decker had arranged for the loan of a private jet from David Bragford, telling him that it was for Milner. As planned, the jet and crew were waiting at Ben Gurion airport when Decker, Christopher and Milner arrived. Decker had brought clothes and a shaving kit from home for Christopher, but though he eagerly took advantage of the shower on Bragford's plane and welcomed the clean clothes, Christopher decided to forego the razor and keep the beard.
As Christopher ate his first meal in forty days, Decker briefed him on events at the U.N. Afterward Christopher began to pour over the reams of documents Decker had brought for him to review.
Three hours into the flight, one of the crew members came into the cabin, obviously very concerned about something. 'What is it?' Decker asked.
'Sir,' he said, 'the captain has just picked up a report on the radio. Apparently all hell has broken loose in India.'
'We're too late,' Christopher whispered to himself as he let his head fall into his open hands.
The crewman continued, 'The Pakistani Guard have detonated two nuclear bombs in New Delhi. Millions are dead.'
For a long moment they sat in stunned silence, then Decker turned to Milner. 'This is what you were talking about in Jerusalem, isn't it?'
'Only the beginning,' he said as he reached over and hit the remote control to turn on the satellite television.
Immediately the screen showed the mushroom cloud of the first atomic bomb set off in New Delhi. The billowing cloud of debris seemed to roll back the sky like an immense scroll of ancient tattered parchment. Two days after the Pakistani Guard first made threats of hidden nuclear weapons, the television network had set up remote cameras to run twenty-four hours a day outside the threatened cities just in case the Guard carried out its threats. Even from ten miles away, the camera began to shake violently as the earth trembled from the blast's awesome shock wave. Several hundred yards in front of the camera a small two-story building vibrated with the quake and then collapsed. An instant later a bright flash on the screen marked the second explosion.
'That was the scene approximately one hour ago,' the network commentator said, his voice registering his horror, 'as two atomic blasts, set off by the Pakistani Guard, rocked the Indian subcontinent. It is believed that the action came in response to the successful interdiction of weapons into Pakistan from China and a new ultimatum issued by General Brooks, commander of U.N. forces in the region. According to sources close to the Pakistani Guard, leaders of the Guard were convinced that U.N. special forces were close to locating the bombs, which would have left little to prevent India from invading Pakistan.
'Within minutes of the explosions the Pakistani government strongly condemned the action by the Guard who, they repeated, are rogue forces not associated with the Pakistani government. But by then India had already retaliated, launching two nuclear-tipped missiles on Pakistan. Apparently prepared for such a response from India, China immediately launched interceptors which successfully brought down the Indian missiles before they could reach their targets.
'Prior to that launch, China had attempted to maintain a neutral position in the long-running conflict between its neighbors. That neutrality was frequently called into question, however, because of the Chinese arms merchants who served as the main source of arms for Pakistan.'
As Christopher, Decker, and Milner watched, new information poured in at an incredible rate. In a matter of only a few hours, the entire war was unfolding. In response to China's action, India launched a conventional attack on the Chinese interceptor bases, while simultaneously launching five additional missiles on Pakistan. Three were intercepted; two reached their targets.
Pakistan then responded to India's attack by launching a volley of its own nuclear weapons and within minutes the Pakistani Guard set off the remaining seven bombs they had planted in Indian cities.
In a temporary lull in the action, the scene on television switched to a satellite feed from a camera mounted on the top of a remotely-controlled all-terrain rover, which showed the first horrifying scenes from the suburban areas of New Delhi. Fire was everywhere. Rubble filled the streets. The sky was filled with thick black smoke from the fires and radioactive fallout, which blocked out the setting sun as though it were covered by a loosely-woven black cloth. Scattered around the landscape were hundreds of people, dead and dying. Immediately in front of the vehicle, the mostly nude body of a young Indian woman lay sprawled in the street. All but a few scraps of her clothing had been burned away. On the less charred parts of her body, where some skin remained, the flowered pattern of the sari she had been wearing was seared into her flesh like a tattoo.
Sitting on the street beside the woman's body, a startled young girl, three or four years old, looked up at the rover and began screaming. The bombs had not been so merciful to her as to her mother; she might languish two or three days before life fully released its grip on her. For a moment the camera dwelled on her, her skin covered
