The Last Day (72 page)

“Thank God, Jon! You've been restored to us, just as Jeza promised!”

“Jeza?” Feldman returned the embrace as best his disabled arms would allow. “You saw Her?”

“Yes,” Litti beamed. “She told me yesterday morning…”

Feldman inhaled.

“… in my dreams!” Litti added.

Feldman exhaled. But he turned his disappointment into a smile.

On the TV, Feldman was surprised to catch a video clip of Hunter and Litti shaking hands with Prime Minister Eziah Ben-Miriam, accompanied by the Lubavitcher rabbi, Mordachai Hirschberg, Commander David Lazzlo in civilian attire, and a hesitant-looking Cissy McFarland. A font read: “Israel Commits Funds for International Jeza Studies Center in Jerusalem.”

His eyes wide, Feldman pointed to the screen. “What's this, guys?”

Litti and Hunter turned together and reacted with proud smiles. “That's right, Jon,” Litti responded. “Breck, Rabbi Hirschberg, former Commander David Lazzlo, Miss Cissy, all of us decided we wanted to work together to spread the message of. the New Way. To proclaim Jeza's words. Her truth.”

Feldman gaped in amazement at the big cameraman. “Breck? Breck, you a missionary?”

“Not a missionary,” Litti corrected him. “Simply a ‘disseminator of information.’ We're going to establish a center here in Jerusalem, dedicated to facts and information associated with Jeza. A college of Her works and wisdoms. An archive of Her message.”

Feldman was beyond astonishment. He examined intently the self-conscious face of his longtime friend. “I don't believe it! Breck, a minister! But didn't Jeza command no churches, no preaching?”

Hunter wagged his head. “I'm not gonna be a minister, Jon. An administrator, maybe, but this isn't a church. We're not gonna interpret Jeza's scripture. We're simply gonna spread Her gospel. And we're gonna spread the other scripture books as well. The Bible, the Koran, the Talmud, all of ‘em. Only, we're gonna fix all the corrupted passages exactly like She instructed. And we're gonna assemble all the video records I have and make a collection of Jeza's complete tapes, available for anyone who wants ‘em. Free!

“Although,” he added, turning to Litti reflectively, “we might want to consider a few corporate donations to help defray…” Catching Feldman and Litti's reproachful looks, Hunter broke into an apologetic grin. “All right so no sponsors. But anyway, Cissy and I, we're gonna go on the Internet with everything, set up a communications system—modems, faxes, the whole nine yards. It's gonna be great!”

This was something Feldman would never have anticipated of Hunter the Hedonist. “Things are over between you and Erin, then?” he presumed, hopefully.

“Yeah.” Hunter shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “And she's got herself a new job now.” He turned, picked up the TV control and switched channels.

There she was, preening charismatically up on the screen, tossing her hair above the byline, “Erin Cross, UBN Morning News Anchor.”

Feldman smiled and nodded his head. “And what about you and Cissy now?”

Hunter shrugged again and grinned. “She doesn't exactly trust me yet, but she says she's willing to try me out on ‘a probationary basis.’ We'll see. Anyway, we've got big plans for the center. And we want you to join us, too.”

Litti stood beaming next to Hunter, nodding his encouragement.

“Me?”
Feldman gasped. “I'm a reporter. What would I do?”

“You could narrate our videos,” Hunter suggested. “Give inspirational talks about Jeza. Answer all the questions people will have about what She's like, your personal experiences with Her, stuff like that. Jon, you're one of the
chosen!”

As he shook his head at all this, yet another news report caught Feldman's eye. “Worldwide Cessation of Hostilities,” the headline read, and the screen displayed a series of supporting film clips with the banners: “Rwandan Hutus and Tutsis Declare Truce”; “Serbs, Croats and Muslims Form Alliance”; and “Castro Addresses U.S. Congress.”

Next on the screen appeared an image of cleanup crews in Belfast, Northern Ireland, shown clearing the streets of riot debris left over from the Easter weekend Cataclysm. The camera cut to a historic meeting between former archadversaries, headlined: “Rapprochement Between Ex-Catholic and Ex-Protestant Leadership.”

“Amazing!” Feldman exclaimed with delight.

“Yeah,” Hunter acknowledged brightly, following Feldman's eyes. “Stuff like that's happening ad over the place. Lifelong enemies befriending one another. Sudden, unprovoked, random acts of kindness between total strangers, breakin’ out ad over the globe. Everywhere, charitable contributions goin’ through the roof. It's incredible!”

Litti could not contain his excitement. “Yes, Jon, it's unbelievable. Over the last five days there have been no recorded hostilities occurring between countries anywhere in the world! Imagine that! Not one! Absolute peace! Nothing like this has ever happened before! You need to be a part of all this, Jon!”

“Guys,” Feldman said, attempting to subdue his friends’ enthusiasm, “you don't need me. The entire world is converting to Jeza.”

Litti shook his head. “No, Jon. Unfortunately, the world still looks at Jeza through many lenses. There are large factions which continue to see Her as a delusional woman—just another of the endless false prophets who've plagued the Holy City over the centuries. And mark my words, although the Catholic Church may be crippled, it is far from finished. With Antonio di Concerci taking command as Pope Nicholas VII, you can be assured the intrigue will continue.

“But our new movement does enjoy great support among many of the Christian communities of the world. Also, we can count among our ranks the large majority of the Jewish faith, including the State of Israel, which now officially embraces Jeza as their promised Messiah. And, with several Arab nations accepting Jeza as a new prophetess—if not the daughter of Allah Himself—we finally have the basis for a balanced, lasting peace here in the Middle East A great foundation on which to establish and build our Center for the New Way.”

Feldman sat back in thoughtful reflection. He was utterly thrilled by all the wondrous energies and positive developments suddenly at work in the world about him. At long last, after all the turmoil, conflict hatred and anguish, perhaps now mankind was prepared to change. Ready to seize the moment To unleash the belated spiritual and social potentials this once-in-two-thousand-years opportunity afforded.

After two millennia of watching man drift further and further astray, God had sent us a message. An all-important “spirituality check.” He'd sent a Messiah to remind us, once more, of the great love and self-sacrifice we humans are capable of. To remind us, indeed, of God's great love.

Feldman used to wonder where God was. Why he couldn't find Him, why he couldn't see Him, no matter how hard he tried. And now he knew.

It's all in
how
you look at Him.

Seeing God is something we all knew how to do once, and somehow managed to forget a long, long time ago. To see God is simple. It's exactly like Jeza said. We must look with the eyes of a child. Not straining and forcing and prying at God with the crowbars of theology. But relaxedly, with innocence and wonderment and faith. Like experiencing the three dimensional images of a child's magic-eye picture book.

God is easy to find because He's everywhere. But mostly, Feldman realized, God is within. And that's where it's best to look for Him. In one's own personal temple. The church of the self.

Feldman smiled. Maybe this time God's message would take. And maybe now, at some distant point in the future, man would yet give a worthy accounting of himself when he's finally summoned for that consequential Last Day.

Feldman broke away from his vision to look closely into the eyes of his good friends. “Your Center for the New Way will help ensure none of us ever forget Jeza's message,” he told them, endorsing their plans, “but I'm afraid I can't be a part of it. It's just not the right way for me.”

Hunter sighed and Litti nodded his reluctant understanding.

“Certainly we're wrong to try to influence the way you choose, Jon,” Litti admitted. “You know we'd love to have you with us. But whatever it is God wants from you, that's between you and Jeza. And only you can determine what that is.”

A doctor, alerted to Feldman's regained consciousness, wanted the room cleared while he gave the newsman a thorough examination.

Feldman called after his friends, “Don't forget when Anke wakes I need to see her right away!” Hunter gave Feldman an okay sign and left with Litti to inform the world of the miraculous recovery.

While the physician disconnected Feldman's intravenous tubes, and tapped and poked, the reporter sat back in his bed with thoughts of how he might best frame his forthcoming apology to the woman he loved.

On the TV, there appeared a story about the U.S. presidential campaign and Feldman turned up the volume. The commentator was reporting on the utter collapse of Democrat Billy McGuire's presidential candidacy. A “Draft Moore” movement was under way, although the incumbent was described as unavailable, and said to be more interested in pursuing a personal, nonpolitical “New Way” of his own.

Turning to a local Israeli channel, Feldman saw where a conglomerate of American evangelists bad arrived in Jerusalem, led by someone named the Right Reverend Solomon T. Brady, D.D. They intended to petition for franchise rights to a U.S. Center for the New Way, to be constructed in Dallas, Texas. The Reverend wanted to call his proposed establishment the Brady University Jeza Studies Institute. Feldman winced, muted the volume again and closed his eyes.

Once more he slept. This time, his dream was both pleasant, and real. Anke had arrived at his bedside, gently stroking his hand, tears in her big brown eyes. And when he awakened, if she had any further doubts about his true feelings for her, Feldman's reaction dispelled them completely.

“Anke, Anke, Anke!” he cried and enveloped her with his encumbered arms. He kissed her repeatedly, unable to satiate his feelings. “I'm so sorry! So very, very sorry!”

While not the eloquent apology he'd rehearsed and now forgotten, Feldman's sincerity was indisputable. He drew himself up in bed, anxious to explain himself better. “Anke,” he began, “I want you to know that my feelings for Jeza and my feelings for you, they're totally different, they're—”

She stilled his lips softly with her forefinger, smiling, and whispered, “Jon, Jon. It's okay. I know.”

They remained caught up in their tender intimacies until a familiar voice at the door cleared its throat.

“Well,” Cissy nonchalantly interrupted, “I guess this means you two are back together again?” The elated gleam in her eyes betrayed her emotions, and Anke generously moved aside to make room for another teary-eyed reunion.

After telling Feldman how awful he looked, Cissy wiped her eyes with his sheet and informed the couple that there were special guests waiting to see them. Two people she thought they'd be particularly pleased to see.

Feldman nodded, and Cissy returned to the doorway, motioning to the visitors outside.

A well-dressed, elderly woman with silver hair and a glowing smile peered hesitantly around the door and trilled, “Hello!”

Feldman and Anke instantly recognized Anne Leveque and returned her greeting, inviting her to enter. But as she did, Feldman's heart faltered and his delight immediately changed over to disbelieving shock.

Following shyly behind Mrs. Leveque, holding the older woman's hand, her face and eyes downcast, was a small, frail, pretty-looking woman with blue eyes, pale skin and dark hair. For the briefest moment, Feldman was electrified with the misconception that this was Jeza. And then, his heart racing, he realized who this timid little woman was.

“Marie!” he whispered in awe.

The resemblance was startling, but certainly not exact. Marie was older than Jeza. And while attractive, Marie hadn't Jeza's perfection. Nor her eyes or luminescent complexion. But Marie's was a sweet and endearing face. And when introduced, her smile was engagingly, entirely Jeza's.

“When? How?” Feldman stammered.

Beaming, Mrs. Leveque stood behind her daughter and gently drew her in, wrapping her arms around Marie's tiny waist. “Good Friday afternoon,” she said, placing her cheek on Marie's head, her eyes starting to water. “I was in my home,” she explained, “watching my Jeza give her last speech, live on television. Then, there was that awful moment when she was struck down, and all the announcers were saying that she was shot. I could not bear the pain of another loss. I just slid from my chair to my knees, rocking and crying, begging God, pleading for Him please not to take away my child from me again.

“And then, suddenly, I heard a voice calling behind me, softly, ‘Mama, Mama, Mama.’ ” The poor woman could no longer contain herself and she began sobbing heavily as Marie looked up, squeezing her mother's hands with a consoling smile. “God took my Jeza, but He restored to me my Marie.” Mrs. Leveque composed herself, gazing adoringly down at her daughter. “He returned her to me, in His great love and forgiveness, completely and wholly as she was before the accident.”

Feldman could only stare in wonder at the incredible scene.

In the corner, on the TV, an image of Feldman was flashed up on the screen along with the headline “Newsman Recovers!” Simultaneously, Hunter and Litti reentered the room just as a growing tumult arose from outside the window. The crowd below was reacting to the news, cheering and shouting.

“Your public,” Cissy announced to Feldman, bowing and extending her arms to the window.

Coming upon the surprising sight of Marie Leveque, Hunter and Litti skidded to a halt in utter bewilderment. While they were introduced and brought up to speed, Feldman tried out his legs, Anke on one side, Cissy on the other, making his unsteady way to the window on his sore ankle.

Spotting him, the crowd erupted. There were hundreds of thousands of people camped out across the hospital grounds, spilling out into the bordering roadways. All facing the newsman's window, they were pressing forward, calling out, waving, displaying signs and celebrating Feldman's wondrous recovery.