Chanting crowds fill the streets of San Francisco. Traffic and
business are at a standstill.  A few people can be seen sliding out of
the crowd and into a decrepit Chandler hotel. Inside people are sitting
or standing quietly, most are in tears as they continue to watch the
live feed from Palestine on CNN.  A strange light followed by cursing
and four flailing bodies startle many of the people in the lobby and
bar.
Maggie looks around.  The first thing she notices is a woman who
reminds her of the half-sister she left behind when her world was
destroyed by quasars.  Before she can ask about what is going on Quinn
shouts “OH MY GOD.”  Shocked many people turn around and begin making
gestures of warding.
“Enough,” a man reminiscent of Arturo shouts.  “People, please.  A
little quiet is in order.  Our teacher is on his way to die.”  The
television screen shows a garden at night.  Soldiers, or police
officers--Maggie isn’t sure which--are breaking up some sort of prayer
meeting. One man rushes up to another and kisses him on the cheek.  No
one can hear what they’re saying, the silence in the room is so deep
the chanting from the street is audible.  “Down with Jesus.  Down with
Jesus.  Crucify. Crucify. Crucify.”
Maggie notices Colin, Remmy and Quinn--jaws dropped--staring at the
television screen.  She looks up just as more drama unfolds.  One of
men grabs a blade from an officer.  If she hadn’t been in combat, she
would have puked.  The ear had fallen to the ground and blood gushed.
The teacher, Jesus (it couldn’t be who she thought it was) picked the
ear up from the ground, matched it to the wounded man’s head, and when
he removed his hand the ear was attached.
“We have just witnessed a historical event.  The false prophet of the
Jews, Jesus Carpenter, has just been arrested.  The Pharisees and
Sadducees have been tracking his movements for a little over three
years.  They say he claims to be the son of God.  Jews all over the
world are outraged and calling for his crucifixion.  Coming up
interviews with Rabbi Nicodemus, Mary Carpenter, and Ceasar’s Press
Secretary.  Rachel Fisher, signing off.”
A short time later, the fab four found themselves in their usual
suite.  This time courtesy of  the Christ-Follower.  They were amazing
people.  Kind. Generous.  And in terrible pain.  At this point in time
the Chandler was one of their few safe houses.  One they were willing
to share.  “Do you realize what we are witnessing?”  Remmy whispered.
“This can’t be what we think it is,” Quinn said.  “Can it?”
“I know how we can find out,”  Maggie murmured.  “My half sister,
well, her double anyway, was downstairs.  I’m sure she would hel-.”  At
that moment three sharp knocks came from the door of the suite.  Colin
rose from the armchair to answer it.  Maggie gasped behind him as the
door revealed their visitor.  “Leah, is it you?”
“Hi, Mags.  It’s been a couple of years.  I thought you might have
some questions.  Especially since you’re not from this earth.”
“How do you know that?” Remmy’s tone was full of suspicion.
“I couldn’t help but notice the strange portal you all fell out of,”
Leah smiled wryly.  “Although I wish you could have arrived at any time
but this.”
Quinn finally ventured into the conversation, “what exactly is going
on?”
“Jesus Carpenter is a Nazarene.  He teaches about love, peace of mind,
and faith.  He is a great man who has survived terrible temptation and
returned miracles to our world.  Because he claims to be the one true
messiah and son of God, the Jews are up in arms.  If this had happened
a thousand years ago perhaps things would be turning out differently.”
“No they wouldn’t,”  Remmy started.  “Not on any world would things
turn out differently.”
“What do you mean?”  Just as Leah asked the question the chanting grew
louder.  “We should douse all the lights.  If you have more questions I
would be happy to answer them tomorrow.”
* * * *
It was afternoon and the sunlight streaming through the window hit two
women quietly conversing.  They had the same auburn hair and quirky
smiles.  There the resemblance ended. One was petite and the other was,
well, not petite.  The lyrical sound of their voices drifted through
the conversation being had by three men at the next table.
“Do you think there will be riots?”
“I don’t know Quinn.  These Christ--followers was it?--seem to be a
pretty quiet bunch.  They pool their resources, help anyone who needs
it, and stay out of the way.  Maybe they’ll be able to ride it out.”
“Quinn, Remmy.  The trial is about to start.  Maggie, Leah.  Heads
up.”
“Thanks Colin.”  Both women smiled at him and for a moment his heart
fluttered.  Before he had time to think about it the trial coverage
started.
“This is Rachel Fisher with your live coverage of the trial of the
century.  Hell, of the millennium.  Pontius Pilate will be presiding
today.  Before the trial starts lets head back to New Babylon for
related news.”
“Thanks Rachel.  Isaac Cast here at the desk.  A special session of
the Sanhedrin was held this morning.  After hearing several witnesses
and attempting to hear from Jesus himself they decided to turn him over
to secular authorities for crucifixion.
“The lead witness for the prosecution, Judas Iscariot hung himself
early this morning.  Police, the first to arrive at the scene said
forty silver pieces were scattered randomly at his feet.  Sadducee
Nicodemus was quoted as saying ‘remorse was the cause of this poor
soul’s fall.  Remorse and jealousy.’  Following this news Pontius
Pilate issued a statement regarding a change in the format of the
trial.  No real details were given, but we assume that it has something
to do with the Feast.
“The Twelve Disciples also had something to say regarding this matter
and in a press release stated ‘while we are still reeling from the
arrest of our teacher, our hearts are with the Iscariots.  We don’t
blame you.  We plead with the citizens of the world not to attack or
terrorize Christ’s Followers.’
“Back to you Rachel and the Trial.”
“Thank you Isaac.  For the last few minutes Pilate has been listening
to witness after witness slander Jesus.  After each one Jesus has
refused to respond.  Does this man want to die?”
On the television a man identified as Pontius Pilate asked his beaten
and bloody captive one question: “Are you the king of the Jews?”
The entire city seemed to fall silent as the soft reply was heard.
“Yes, it is as you say.”
Another prisoner was brought forth to stand by Jesus.  The crowd was
growing restless and the sliders could hear an angry murmur outside the
walls of the Chandler.
Pilate spoke again.  “Do you want me to release to you the king of the
Jews?”  Surprising many the crowd in Jerusalem echoed the chanting
outside.
“Barabbus.  Barabbus.  We want Barabbus. Barabbus.  Barabbus.  We want
Barabbus.”
“Dear God,”  one person whispered, “they would rather release a
murdering rapist than our teacher.”
Pilate spoke again.  “What shall I do, then, with the one you call the
king of the Jews?”
“CRUCIFY HIM!”  was heard round the world.
“Why?  What crime has he committed?”
If anything the cries were louder this time.  “CRUCIFY HIM!”
The television showed Pilate appeasing the crowd by releasing
Barabbus.  Clicking off the television the Arturo’s double turned to
face the room with tears on his cheeks.  “My brothers and sisters, the
teacher warned us that things would get difficult.   Take comfort in
his great, great love.  This is a sacrifice he makes willingly.”

Back in the suite Maggie shook uncontrollably.  Leah held her as she
sobbed.  Quinn looked out the window slack-jawed.  Colin kneeled in
front of the two women offering what support he could.  As usual Remmy
was the first to speak,  “I can’t believe none of us asked this
already.  How many more days do we have?”
Quinn absently looked at the timer.  “A month and change.  How could
he forgive them after three hours on that cross?”
“Well, if these events match up to the ones on our world we have an
hour and a half of darkness left.  Should we check out the scientific
analysis on the earthquake, darkness and ripped veil?”  Remmy lifted
the remote questioningly.
“You speak as though you have experienced this before.”  Leah lifted
her and her green eyes begged him for answers.
“No, sweetheart I haven’t been through it.  But I learned about it as
a kid.  My granny dragged me to church every Sunday.  According to the
Christian Bible, Jesus will come back to life in three days.  And we’ll
be around to see it.”
“He spoke...he went  to the temple one day, the main one in Jerusalem.
He kicked out all the vendors.  Drove them out with a whip.  But what
he said that day will always stick with me.  I got the transcript of
events off www.12disciple.com...” Leah’s voice faded slowly into
nothingness as she buried her head in her hands.
Colin put his arms around her.  It was the only way he could think of
to help.  He had heard of Jesus the Nazarene on his world too.  The
only reason anything survived the Black Plague was because of a few
monks who refused to fear the disease.  Followers of this same Jesus.

The morning sun rose to an already active Chandler.  Those who were
not glued to the television were packing.  They expected trouble and
Arturo was moving to get his people to safety.  The fab four sat at a
table discussing their next move.  “It should happen any time now.”
“Remmy, what if this world is different?  What if he was never really
resurrected on our world?”
“Have a little faith Quinn.”
On the television a bright flash issued forth.  It was the feed from
Jesus’ tomb.  Moments later the rioting started.  Moments later small
groups exit the Chandler.  Leah is leading them all through the city.
Remmy begins to recognize the area and begins to speak, but not before
Maggie can grab his hand and hushed him.  The Motel 12 sign flickers
off to the right.  Arturo is standing out front and tosses Leah a key.
“Go with God,”  he whispers as he disappears around the corner.
The first thing on in the little room is the television, courtesy of
Colin.  He sits on the edge of one of the queen beds, staring intently.
The announcer can be heard throughout the little room.  “Riots have
broken out in North America.  They started just as the feed from Jesus’
tomb was disrupted.  North America has always been a hotbed of
violence.  The provincial government for North America has declared
martial in the hopes of stopping the riots.  The rest of the world is
awaiting news from--hold on folks.  We have reestablished communication
with our Palestine office.”
“Rachel Fisher here.  I hope the connection isn’t too bad.  We’ll have
visual feed for you soon.  I arrived on the scene about ten minutes
after the feed was disrupted.  Peter and John, two of the leaders of
the 12 Disciples organization, ran frantically past me.  They looked
like they had just seen a ghost.  The huge boulder blocking the
entrance to the tomb had been removed and no one was in sight.  Famous
former prostitute and recent convert Mary Magdalene was seen backing
out of the tomb and breaking into a run.  Peter and John have just
returned...”
“Folks, I apologize it looks like we’ve lost Rachel.”

Days later the debate is still raging.  “Quinn, how can you say they
stole his body?”
“Easy Leah.  It’s not there.  Dead people don’t just get up and walk
out of a tomb.”
“Lazarus did.”
“Leah, you haven’t proven he was dead.”
“Oh, right.  People just bury the living all the time.”
“Well, now girl, I’ve seen stranger publicity stunts.”
“Thank Remmy.  You’re just a ton of help.”
“Hey guys they have more sightings.”  Colin had been fascinated by
sightings.  He had watched every interview the travelers to Emmaus had
granted.  The apostles had been in hiding, as had most of the Christ
Followers, but Leah had received a message on her computer talking
about the dinner sighting.  He had been seen in Galilee also.  “Why
doesn’t he show himself anywhere else?  He is always seen in Palestine.”
“I don’t know.”  Leah had the strangest look on her face.  She then
went headfirst onto the floor.
An hour later she was typing away on her keyboard, trying to find proof
of the information she already had.  Maggie sat beside her reading
everything that came onto the screen.  She had been
uncharacteristically quiet over the last few days.  Quinn was beginning
to worry.
“Here’s the lowdown guys.  He’s back in heaven.”  Maggie turning to
Leah asked, “what does this mean for you?”
“We start helping people.  And we wait for the helper he promised us.”
“Where does that leave us?”
“Quinn, you are free to do as you please.  We promised to provide you
shelter.  We have and will continue to.  If you choose to help us fine.
If you do not fine.”

The next couple of weeks saw many Christ’s followers in hiding or the
victim of a mob.  The fab four busily helped many find safe houses and
rescued those they could.  As Maggie pointed out on more than one
occasion “we don’t have anything against defending ourselves and
others.”  Terrorist attacks had become a way of life in North America.
The provincial government had managed to stop the riots while opening
the doors to terrorism.  No one had been arrested for these random
acts.  Arturo had moved his people back to the Chandler.  They needed
the rest of their safe houses for those they rescued.
It was a bright and shining morning.  The cloudless blue skies
heralded a perfect day.  Smiles and laughter filled the Chandler.  No
one could say why.  Remmy felt a sense of foreboding.  Something was
going to go wrong.  In a big way.  He kept looking back.  Leah had
insisted they slide from the alley across the street.  She hadn’t given
them a reason.  Maggie hugged her goodbye.  They all did, even Quinn
who had done nothing but argue with her.
“Go with God.”  Those words still rang their ears as they watched her
cross the empty street.  Shrapnel flew out the bottom floor of the
Chandler.  Screams could be heard from the part of the building that
hadn’t collapsed.  Maggie was the first to find her.  She hadn’t quite
made it to the sidewalk.  There was so much blood.  Their eyes met one
last time.  Leah tried to smile.  “Go Mags.  Go with God.”
Quinn had to drag Maggie from Leah’s side.  He was still trying to
understand what would drive a person to bomb a homeless shelter.
Arturo had turned the Chandler into a homeless shelter.  This time
sliding held no joy.  Pain, sorrow, and too many questions to answer
followed them into the vortex.

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