Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy (5 page)

Farther away, a
cripple sat alone, save for a cat draped over his clubbed feet.
What a remarkable resemblance to the cat at the nursing home, all
black except for white paws and a black circle on his front
shoulder. Briefly, my heart ached as I remembered General Goren, my
mentor and hero.

My eyes
returned to the man who originally spoke to me. He and his younger
friend, Ami, had rough beards, long scruffy hair, and smelled. I
suppose I’d start smelling too when my deodorant wore
off.

“What’s your name?” I asked the older man.

“Levi. From the tribe of Levi.”

“That makes sense,” I replied.

The old man laughed and tugged on his beard. “Not
used to seeing such clean-shaven young men around here.”

I wasn’t sure I could grow a beard.

“So where are you staying?” Levi asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far
ahead.”

Ami nodded. “It’s a long trip from Jerusalem. You
should check the inn and see if they have any openings.”

I stood and
stretched, realizing I hadn’t eaten much since the night before.
Hunger pangs made me feel weak. I walked across the portico and
entered the front door.

Inside Jacob’s
Inn, I found a large lobby with an adjoining room with wooden
tables and chairs. Apparently, it also served as a dining hall. Men
and women were eating from old ceramic plates with their hands. Why
weren’t they using utensils—ugh, so unsanitary to eat with one’s
hands.

An attendant at the long counter greeted me. “Can I
help you?”

I started to
dig into my pocket for my wallet and then realized I wasn’t wearing
my jeans. I hated to appear stupid. “I need a room tonight, but I
seem to have lost my money.” I pretended to check my
cloak.

“I’m sorry,” the man said with genuine concern.
“Where did you last have it?”

I shook my head.

The man took pity on me. “What’s your name?”

“Daniel, son of
Aviv.”

The clerk
retrieved a document from the shelf and glanced through it. He
raised his eyebrow. “We have you booked for tonight, Daniel, son of
Aviv. Your room has been prepaid.”

“Prepaid? By who?”

“It says benefactor.”

I stared at the
clerk. Maybe he was making up a story so as not to embarrass
me.

“Here,” the clerk said. “Can you sign in and I will
give you your key.”

I examined the
writing. The document showed what the clerk said, “Paid in full by
benefactor.” Why did the paper feel like parchment made from animal
skins? I signed the paper mystified.

The clerk
handed me a large wooden key—another antique.

“Your room is
through the door, the third on the right.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And this is just for
tonight?”

“Yes, sir. One night.”

I’d worry about tomorrow night later.

I searched for
my room. Maybe I’d even lie down.

I rattled the
key in the door and found the room to be clean but earthen,
containing just the bare necessities. A bed was in one corner
layered with heavy coarse blankets. A small wooden table with an
oil lamp and chair occupied the other corner. The lamp reminded me
of those I’d seen in museums or shops where tourists
frequented.

I glanced
around. Where was the bathroom? Did I have to share one with other
people? Well, it was free, so I couldn’t complain.

I sat on the
bed, questioning my sanity. Had I become like the patients in the
treatment center? They lived in their own worlds of reality. I
shook my head. No. I wasn’t dreaming—somebody brought me here. If
this were my creation from insanity, I wouldn’t have invented this
kind of world. I’d have gone to Nepal and hiked the Himalayan
Mountains.

Maybe I was a
prisoner and my captors wanted information from me. The Aramaic was
a different dialect, at least not anything I’d heard spoken in
Syria.

I tried to
remember what happened before I arrived. I remembered going into
the hallway to retrieve the cots and seeing a strange
light.

A weird thought
hit me. I stood and checked the door to make sure no one had locked
me in from the outside. Then I got down on my hands and knees and
examined the floor—even underneath my bed, looking for a camera or
eavesdropping equipment. I studied the walls—nothing but illegible
graffiti.

I noticed an
opening underneath the table. I checked inside the hole and saw a
scroll. I pulled it out and unrolled it. The document was a map of
Israel, though many names were different. I recognized some of the
towns, like Jerusalem. I sat on the floor and studied it. The date
on the map was 3790. I assumed this was using the Hebrew
calendar.

If it was the
year 5775 using the Hebrew calendar, that meant I was back in time
two thousand years. That couldn’t be—or could it? I did a quick
math computation. Converted into the Gregorian calendar from the
Hebrew calendar, that meant it was about 30 C.E.

I threw the map
on the floor disgusted—or perhaps more petrified than disgusted.
How did I get here? No! This was insane. Besides, I’d rather be a
prisoner of war than be here. Then the military would search for
me. I knew what happened in Israel at that time—with the Roman
occupation and an itinerant rabbi who claimed to be the Messiah. I
didn’t want to be here.

I sat on the
floor, shaking. “Why God, why here, why now? What happened to me
that I can’t remember?” The walls did not answer me.

A moment of
revelation—I wouldn’t find any hidden cameras or microphones. Even
if I went back to Jerusalem, my family wasn’t there and wouldn’t be
for two thousand years. How could I figure out how to get back to
2015 when I didn’t know how I got here?

I picked up the
map and stuffed it back in the cubbyhole. What was I to do? I could
sit around and mope—no, I was too frustrated to do that. I sighed.
Perhaps there were clues. Maybe someone could help me. I’d go back
out to the lobby and listen, eavesdrop on conversations. Until I
could figure out how to return to my world, I would have to learn
how to live in this one.

Reluctantly, I
joined the others out in the lobby where most of the inn’s guests
seemed to congregate. Dr. Luke sat at a table by the window with
another man. I walked over hoping not to appear intrusive. When I
sat nearby, the two stood. The other man shook Dr. Luke’s hand.
When he left, Dr. Luke turned to me and joined me at my
table.

“How long are you going to be here, Daniel?”

I scratched my ear. “I don’t know.” I picked at the
food crumbs on the dirty table. Hunger pangs filled my stomach.

Dr. Luke studied my face. “How is your
forehead?”

I reached up and touched it. “It’s much better.
Thank you for bandaging it.”

“Make sure you keep it clean until it heals.”

“Yes, sir. I
will.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “Doctor Luke, you
seem to be a very busy doctor. I am hoping someday to become a
doctor.”

“It’s a fine profession for a young Jewish boy. Make
sure you study hard in school.”

I searched for the right words. “If you need help,
Doctor, I could use a place to stay for a few days, until I head
back to Jerusalem.”

Dr. Luke’s face brightened at my suggestion. “In
fact, I do need help with one small task that no one wants to do,
and it’s difficult for me to find the time.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s sorely needed.”

“Tell me what you need done.”

Dr. Luke studied the tabletop and looked sad. “They
appreciate anything anyone does for them. Their life is very
difficult.”

“Whose life is very difficult?”

“The leper colony outside the city gates. If someone
doesn’t bring them food, they die.”

“Oh, the lepers.” What could be so terrible about
visiting them? Unless I caught the disease, but couldn’t it be
cured?

“I would be happy to help you with the lepers,” I
found myself saying a little too eagerly.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Luke bit his lip. “I mean, you
don’t go inside the colony. You leave the food outside the
gate.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“Great. I’ll let the inn know to bill me for your
room and board.” Dr. Luke seemed delighted that this burdensome
task was taken care of.

I nodded and smiled, grateful that I wouldn’t
starve.

Approaching
hoof beats interrupted our conversation. Alarm appeared on the
faces of the inn’s guests. The clerk cleared his reservation desk
and locked up the hotel documents in the cabinet. I glanced at Dr.
Luke. He was peering out the window.

“The Romans,” Dr. Luke said. “What do they want
here?”

I knew the Romans and the Jews did not like each
other.

A flock of
birds dispersed outside the inn, leaving an ominous foreboding in
the air. Soon horses filled the street and five Roman soldiers
dismounted, tied up their animals, and hastily scattered in
different directions.

The street was empty. The locals had sought shelter
when they heard them coming. The soldiers entered the store across
the street and exited when they didn’t find what they wanted. One
recklessly overturned a fruit stand. The fruit scattered in the
street, a week’s worth of wages for one farmer.

Two stampeded
into Jacob’s Inn. Though all the other patrons had fled the porch,
the crippled man sat on his mat, unable to escape. No one thought
to help him.

One of the
guards approached the paraplegic and kicked him. The man fell over,
moaning in breathless gasps. Suddenly the cat I had seen before
vaulted through the air and landed on the soldier’s back. The
surprised guard’s attention turned from the paraplegic as he
reached up to seize the maniacal creature off his shoulder. Then
the cat leaped through the air and disappeared. I winced. Dr. Luke
closed his eyes, as if he were praying. No one in the lobby moved,
hoping the men would go away.

What if the
Roman soldiers entered the inn?

Soon the guards
swaggered inside, their armor clanging. The Centurion glared around
the room. When he saw me, he pointed, “Grab him.”

The other guard stormed towards me. I swallowed hard
as my head swirled. Why was he coming after me? I started to throw
up.

Dr. Luke held
up his hand. “Wait a minute. What’s the problem? Why do you want to
seize this young boy?”

The Centurion
stated impatiently, “A young man fitting his description looted the
treasury yesterday in Ramallah. He was observed heading towards
Dothan—on foot.”

“This young man works for me,” Dr. Luke said. “I’m
sure you’re mistaken. He feeds the lepers.”

When the guards
heard the word “lepers,” they backed away, wanting nothing more to
do with me. “Mistaken identity,” the Centurion said. He glanced
around at the frightened guests. “Have a good day.” The two Romans
left as quickly as they came, issuing no apologies for their
actions.

When the intruders were gone, Dr. Luke ran outside
to check on the crippled man. I noticed the others in the room
edged away from our table. They wanted nothing to do with me
either.

The life of the lepers before antibiotics—the living
dead, the abandoned, victimless faces of souls who died a little
each day as limbs withered and deformity took over.

I stood and
followed Dr. Luke outside. He was hunched over the poor man. Tears
filled the doctor’s eyes. The cripple lay motionless on the
ground.

“He’s dead,” said Dr. Luke.

Now I hated the
Romans as much as I hated the Arabs. Why had God abandoned
us?

“Does he have a family?” I asked.

Dr. Luke shook his head.

A few minutes
later, the dead’s man body was carted off, though I didn’t know to
where and I was afraid to ask. The portico seemed empty without the
cripple’s presence. Burdened that I had made no effort to talk to
him earlier, I vowed to be more caring.

Once things returned to normal, I asked Dr. Luke,
“Why did you do that?”

We were sitting
in the portico alone. Evening approached and the cooks were busy
preparing the food.

“Do what?” Dr. Luke asked.

“Why did you speak up for me to the Roman soldiers?
I mean, how did you know that I didn’t steal the money?”

Dr. Luke looked away for a moment pondering my
question. “Someone who is willing to feed the lepers wouldn’t steal
money from the Romans.”

I nodded. “I understand now.”

Dr. Luke reached over and patted me on the shoulder.
“Let’s get something to eat.”

The next morning I made my first trip to the leper
colony. The outcasts lived in a cave beyond the city gates on the
outskirts of civilization. I fed the donkey and suited him up with
as much as he could carry. Dr. Luke warned me to look out for
robbers. They were known to hang out near the entrance to the
colony and raid what kindhearted folks left.

The colony was
at the mercy of others, hidden behind the walls of secrecy.
Forbidden to be seen even by family members, they were worse off
than zombies.

I packed boiled fish, bread, honey, nuts,
pomegranates, olives, grapes, and figs. No one knew how many lepers
were in the colony, but Dr. Luke sent food every couple of
days.