“I didn’t know Mel did that,” Jeremiah said. “I have a faint recollection of him at the well site, but I never heard the back story. Doesn’t surprise me. He’s not the type to care what other people think of him.”
“There’s more to it,” Ben said. “He wouldn’t want you to know that part either.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Jeremiah waited as Ben decided whether or not he would tell the story. The bunker, Jeremiah’s home for the last sixteen hours, already began to suffocate him. Its walls, the atmosphere, reminded him of the well, just with more computers and less mud. Death reigned in here as it did everywhere. He could smell it, the aroma of death, so beautiful, so enticing as it slid down Adam’s throat. The same offer the serpent offered everyone. The same offer everyone accepted. Yet the fruit didn’t satisfy, didn’t bring life. Only the gardener’s shears to prune away the branches as the body and the mind and the spirit putrefied.
No one learned from the mistakes of their fathers. As if they were incapable of learning. As if the very nature of mankind was to rebel, to mistake pride for strength and humility for weakness, to believe in the lie that they would become like God if only they would partake. To choose death and not life.
Ben shrugged. “I guess he wouldn’t mind,” he said. “It’s not like he knows. Don’t let him know I told you, though.”
“I’m not making any promises,” Jeremiah said.
“Fair enough. Mel nearly lost his job over the incident.”
“Maraina?”
“She definitely pushed for it. Shemaiah got in on the action also, as near as I could tell. One of the two guys Mel took with him did end up losing his job, although he got it back a few weeks later. Zedekiah stepped in and ordered her to stop. She did. Outwardly anyway. After Zedekiah gave you a place in the palace, Maraina lost her mind. She had people following Mel twenty-four seven, trying to dig up dirt to use against him. I’m pretty sure she had a hit put out on him. Pettiness. That’s all it was. Hate too, I suppose. But why? For what reason? To what end? She eventually tired of it. Took a few months before she did.”
“Did Mel know about all that?”
“I kept him informed.”
“And Zedekiah,” Jeremiah said. “Why did he bring me to the palace to live?”
Ben let out a sigh. His eyes widened for a second and returned to size. “He got religion.”
“I thought he didn’t believe in God.”
“He didn’t, but what he saw changed his mind. The problem is his religion was not true religion. More like superstition. Believing anything and everything in an attempt to hedge his bets. You were nothing more than a good luck charm. Like Maraina. It’s one of two reasons he kept her around. I’d say it was the only reason you’re alive, except I know better. You have someone even more powerful on your side, protecting you from evil seen and unseen.”
“God’s on your side, too, my friend,” Jeremiah said.
“For how much longer?”
“For eternity.”
“You know we don’t have much time left on this planet,” Ben said. “One way or another, something will get us.” He paused and looked at Jeremiah. “Any idea how much time we have?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “Not a clue. Although, if you or Mel have the opportunity to save me again, don’t do it. Just let me go home.”
“I’m not making any promises,” Ben said.
“Fair enough.” Jeremiah stood up and walked to a desk to take a seat. The chair rotated back and forth as he spun his feet. “Say, Ben. Do you happen to have anything to eat? Anything. It doesn’t have to be much.”
“I’ve got a protein bar in my desk. It’s all yours.”
“I appreciate it but I’ll pass. If I have to eat another one of those. Not to complain, just that I’ve tasted cardboard with more character.”
“It’s good with a little chili powder. Seriously. You should try it.”
“You got any of that in your desk?” Jeremiah asked.
“No, but Mel keeps a bottle in his locker.”
“I’ll wait until things cool off before I go out there.”
“It looks like they have,” Ben said. He paused for a moment. “You think Mel’s OK? I haven’t heard from him since before I came to get you.”
“Yeah. He’s OK.”
“You sound pretty confident.”
“The Lord said he’d be OK.”
Ben’s face furrowed. “So, he told you about Mel, but he’s said nothing about me?”
“Or about me either. The truth is, though, the Lord told Mel directly. Then, Mel told me.”
“You think the Lord would tell me if I asked?”
“Are you sure you’d want to know?” Jeremiah replied.
“Probably not.”
Jeremiah spun the chair around so that he no longer faced his friend. Ahead, a shadow passed behind the door to the back office. He placed his elbow on the chair and rested his cheek on his palm.
“You think if Zedekiah had the chance to do it all over again he’d do it differently?”
Ben looked towards the back office as well. “I doubt it. He’d probably make the same foolish choices, and we’d end up in the same place.”
Jeremiah spun back around. “Do you ever wonder why God would allow this to happen? Why he doesn’t simply wipe us off the face of the earth and start again?”
“He loves us that much, I suppose.”
“Yeah, but there’s got to be something more.”
“A greater plan or purpose we can’t see,” Ben interjected.
Jeremiah nodded. “I wonder if we’ll see it someday. I mean, we’ll see part of it, but will we understand the entire picture? How God used all the pieces of our lives, everyone’s lives, and interwove them to make the most beautiful mosaic imaginable?”
Ben watched his friend’s expression shift between pain and hope, sorrow and excitement. “It would be amazing, wouldn’t it? On the other hand, I think God will keep some mysteries for us, things which will take an eternity to discover. I mean, in the end, we’ll always be finite in some sense. There will always only be one omniscient, omnipotent God.”
The low rumble of a conversation which didn’t want to be understood droned through the door.
“I didn’t think we’d last this long, did you?” Jeremiah asked.
“You and me?” Ben said.
“In general. The city. The people. We were in bad shape when they tossed me in the well. Three months later, I was sure it would be the end.”
“We got resupplied,” Ben said.
“What?”
“We got resupplied. Food, water.”
Jeremiah frowned. “By who?”
“The Russians.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They claimed it was a goodwill gesture,” Ben said. “Proof that, if we would surrender, they wouldn’t hold our rebellion against us. The leaders would be punished, of course, but the people would be allowed to live with some semblance of normalcy. However, all it did was prolong the suffering, considering Zedekiah took it as a sign of weakness from the Russians. Can you believe that? He actually thought we were winning the war. Even as the Russians destroyed our planes one by one and our stockpiles dwindled and our army was decimated, he thought we were winning. He had the gall to throw a victory celebration. Wanted to announce it on the news and everything. I was able to convince him not to but not without a fight. I’m glad he saw it my way. The people would’ve murdered him a month later when the supplies ran out. When the food was gone, we were worse off than before, especially since we got out of the habit of rationing. Still, Zedekiah called the Russian premier and said no thank you to the next round of supplies but in a much less polite way. That’s when the Russians really got angry. I thought they’d end the war right then. They certainly could have. Instead, they chose to tighten the siege, make us truly feel the pain. A couple months later … well, you remember how it was. What we saw, heard. Felt. I don’t think we ever talked about it, though. Me and Mel either. I guess it was too difficult.” Ben began to speak as though to himself, as if he were in the room alone conversing with his own thoughts. “I never imagined … I never imagined it could come to that. That we could be reduced so far as to lose all our humanity, to lose anything good or right or ….” He paused as the thoughts overwhelmed him. “It was the only possible outcome, though, wasn’t it?” He paused again and stared into the past. “When all the lies were stripped away and the only thing left was the stark reality of the consequences of our sin.”