“The walk up those steps was the longest walk of my life. Except, maybe, the one on my wedding day. I was so nervous. You had to physically prop me up and talk me out of running away. And when I saw all those people and the photographer and ….” Ben paused and brushed the hair off his forehead. “I thought I knew what was coming that day. But when the car arrived, I had no idea what to expect. They threw me in the back, didn’t say a word the whole time. I’m sweating drops the size of grapes, and I’m not exaggerating by much. They probably didn’t know my fate either. Nor care. More of the follow orders and ask questions later types. Then, they told me to go up the steps. My head told me to run, but my legs had other plans. Kind of like my wedding day. When I got to Zedekiah, my only thought was that I hadn’t run and still had my dignity. That and who would take care of Victoria.”
“Next thing I know, I’m hearing President Zedekiah. I guess my brain played a trick on me, because I immediately began looking for the guards to come take me away. It was a few seconds, although it felt like an eternity, before what he actually said registered in my brain.”
Jeremiah cut into the monologue. “Funny thing is, I can recall the look on your face with perfect clarity. Dumbfounded. That’s the word I used for many years. Almost curious, like you wanted to argue and tell them they made a mistake.”
Ben nodded. “I’d say that sums it up pretty well. I’m glad I didn’t argue with them.”
“Victoria too.”
Sadness penetrated Ben’s smile. He rubbed his index finger over the nail of his thumb, unconscious of the action.
“How long has it been since I’ve seen you? It feels like years.”
Jeremiah understood who the recipient of the question truly was. He patted Ben on the arm. “You’ll see her soon. We won’t be stuck here forever.”
Ben grabbed Jeremiah’s hand and held on. Minutes passed before he let go.
“Well, enough of the self-pity,” Ben said. “All things considered, I’ve had a blessed life. Notwithstanding a few moments of abject terror.”
“Was that the worst?” Jeremiah asked.
“Walking up the stairs to Zedekiah the first time?”
Jeremiah nodded. Ben took some time to think.
“Yeah.” Ben hesitated. “Yeah, I’d say so. Seems kind of petty to say, in comparison to your life anyway. For an instant, I felt what you live constantly. Isn’t that true?”
“Do I live constantly in fear?” Jeremiah asked without waiting for a response. “No. Fear isn’t the word. Hopelessness.” He rubbed the side of his face. “No, that isn’t it either.” He continued rubbing as though that would stimulate the answer. A pinky hooked onto his lip and stroked the corner of his mouth. “Discouragement. That’s the word. To preach nearly four decades and have no one listen to you. Even though all the words I spoke came true and the ones spoken against me came to nothing. Even though the truth was evident, close enough to spit in their faces, they didn’t listen. Do you know how many times I wanted to give up? What was the point? How many times can you pound your fist against stone until your knuckles become too bloody to continue?” His chin rested in the palm of his hand. “More times than I can count, I questioned whether or not I really heard him, heard his call. Shouldn’t I have found some success? Any success? The smallest victory? If the Lord calls you, aren’t doors supposed to open? Why did every single one slam in my face? Isn’t that a sign you’re doing the wrong thing? He says he works everything out for my good. When is that going to happen?” He paused. The room fell still. “Yet, my heart burned within me. How could I not speak? How could I keep the words of the Lord trapped inside without being consumed by the flames?”
Ben pondered the depths of the pain his friend felt. His chest rose and fell in measured breaths.
“You’ve carried a heavy burden,” Ben said. “I’m not sure I could have done what you did.”
“I didn’t. The Lord sustained me. Otherwise, I would’ve folded early on. And a million more times afterwards.”
President Zedekiah emerged from the back room, interrupting the conversation. A snarl creased his jaw as he strode towards the two. Ben jumped to his feet. Jeremiah rested against the wall, unconcerned with the president’s approach.
“I’d like to speak with you, to see if the Lord has given you an answer.”
Zedekiah laced his request with a dose of aggravation. Jeremiah acknowledged him with a weary glance.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jeremiah said. “Everything I’ve had to say has been said.” He turned his face towards the entrance to the bunker.
“I’m still the president, and I expect you to treat me as such. If I ask you to do something ….”
Jeremiah broke in. “The mantle of president has been removed from you. The only question remaining is whether or not you’ll escape the siege with your life.”
A fire burned in Zedekiah’s hollowed out face, the same fire which seared his conscience years before. “You dare speak to me like that after all I’ve done for you?” he said.
“I’m not sure what you want,” Jeremiah said. His eyes returned to the president. “How many times have you come to me asking for a word from the Lord? How many times have I come to you with one? And his response was always the same. ‘Repent and follow me with your whole heart. Admit your sin and submit yourself to my discipline.’ He has been consistent just as you have been in your disobedience.”
“I have followed him,” Zedekiah said. “With my whole heart. Yet, for some reason, you think he has chosen to punish me. For what? For wanting what’s best for my people? For standing up to those godless Russians? What kind of God punishes a person for doing the right thing?”
Jeremiah had long ago stopped marveling at the extent of the delusion. As though God had dropped Zedekiah into a bottomless well, and the truth, that dot of light at the mouth of the well, slowly diminished as the president tumbled towards the blackness of the eternity he desired. Jeremiah had no hope to offer, no rope long enough to haul the president or anyone else in the nation out of the pit. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.
“So that’s it?” the president said. “You really won’t offer me a word?”
Jeremiah let his frustration out with a deep breath. His eyes opened, their full fury shining like the blazing sun. “Bow to the Russians. Surrender your armies to them. Fall on your face before God and the Russian premier, and the Lord will spare your life. Continue to fight against the Lord, and he will deliver you to your enemies anyway.”
Zedekiah stomped away, the scowl trailing behind him. Jeremiah rubbed the back of his head and expressed his thoughts in another a puff of air.
“I’ve never met a man as stubborn as he is,” Ben said. “Present company excepted.” He quickly tried to reframe his statement. “For you, I mean it in a good way.”
“There’s a good way?” Jeremiah asked.
“When you’re wrong, stubbornness is bad. When you’re right, it’s vital.” He hesitated. “Do you ever think it would’ve been easier if you had just gone along with the crowd?”
“In the short run? Maybe. When you see the big picture, absolutely not. Just think of what happened to Jehoiakim. Temporary avoidance of punishment – perhaps the better description is, temporary avoidance of obedience, not that I’m conflating the two – just made things infinitely worse in the end. It’s always better to obey God, regardless of the temporal consequences.”
Ben’s eyebrows nodded in agreement. “Adam and Eve failed to appreciate that, and we’ve been paying for it ever since.”
A low groan rumbled through the bunker. The steel walls rolled and shook with it. A stream of silt dripped down from the ceiling and covered a computer in a fine, dusty mist. Ben raised his chin towards the sound.
“That’s new,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a bunker buster. It shouldn’t reach this far underground. I hope they haven’t developed the technology which makes it possible.” He indicated the door to the back office. “Any chance he’ll surrender now?”
Jeremiah shook his head.
“I didn’t think so,” Ben said. “I wonder what happened to him. His administration started out so promising.”
“You and I had a very different first impression,” Jeremiah said.
“Is that so?” Ben asked. “In what way?”
“Look how he turned out.” Jeremiah nodded towards the back office. “The signs were there from the beginning.”
Ben licked his lips with a tongue even drier than they were. “Yeah. I suppose I wanted to believe he’d be different. That he’d have Josiah’s heart and not Jehoiakim’s.” He raised his head. “Unfortunately, he received a double portion of Jehoiakim’s.”
Jeremiah grit his teeth to prevent the comment from coming out.
“How long did it take before he went off the deep end?” Ben asked. “He hid it from me for the first few years. I remember our discussions about legislation he wanted passed. Morality laws. Taxes to restore the National Cathedral. Punishment for those who spoke out against Russian rule. He acted as though he planned on following your word – God’s word – to the letter. Then … then, he didn’t follow through. I always blamed his advisors.” He let the rest of his thought go unfinished. “Are you sure it wasn’t them?”
“Ask yourself this,” Jeremiah replied. “Did God ever ask Zedekiah to do those things you mentioned, or did he ask him, ask us, to follow with all our hearts?”
Ben didn’t need to answer the question.
“Not to say Zedekiah’s advisors didn’t lead him astray,” Jeremiah continued, “but he was more than happy to hear what they told him.” He rubbed his chin the way he would when a complicated idea puzzled him. “On the other hand, he listened to me. How many times did he ask for a word from the Lord? I believe he genuinely wanted to hear what the Lord had to say, yet he could never make that final leap of faith and believe it. To follow the Lord as he should. Maybe that’s why the Lord withheld judgment for so many years. Waiting … patiently. Not wanting that any should be lost. In the end, he couldn’t wait any longer.”
“So, you didn’t know either?” Ben’s words sounded more curious than critical. “Didn’t God tell you how it would turn out?”
“He reveals some things, very few things, to me. I rarely know what will happen until it actually does. Even the times when it’s crystal clear what his intentions are, he leaves room for us to repent so that he can also repent of his wrath, in a manner of speaking. The fact that he punished the nation just shows how far gone we were. This, too, was a mercy, his punishment designed to draw us back to him. We didn’t listen, though.”
“We loved the evil more than we loved him,” Ben said, finishing Jeremiah’s thought. “When did you know for sure we had no chance?”
“Around two years ago. It’s almost as though he waited for her.”