He sensed a shadow, and looked back up at the skies: as he watched, slowly, imperceptibly, it darkened. The crystal-clear afternoon, with a blue sky and sun baking the Israeli desert, began to darken. At first, Caleb thought that perhaps it was a passing thundercloud—or maybe even an eclipse of the sun.
But as he looked closely, as he began to hear a great fluttering noise, to sense a tremendous vibration, he knew this was no cloud. It was no flock of birds. It was a legion of vampires. Hundreds of them.
No. Thousands of them.
They swarmed the skies like locusts, moving in a huge flock, right for him, right for the Mount of Olives. Caleb sensed immediately that they were the object of the attack. That they had come to annihilate them.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Caitlin stood in the midst of the thick crowd, staring up at the Eastern gate, the sun glaring behind it. She had to squint at the site, and for a moment, she could hardly believe it was true. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Making things worse, there was also such a light radiating off the man coming through that it was hard for Caitlin to see where the sun ended and the man began.
Caitlin watched as the man, seated on a donkey, rode in through the Eastern gate. The animal ambled through the thick masses, as all around him swarmed dozens of followers, dressed in long, flowing white robes. The man himself wore a long, white robe and hood, which was lowered, exposing his face to the crowd. He had long, light brown hair going down to his cheekbones, and a short brown beard. His eyes were large and hazel, and they radiated light, like two glowing marbles. In fact, there was such light radiating off of this man that Caitlin had to squint. And he had such an aura of peace, she could immediately sense he was different. This was no ordinary person.
Caitlin could hardly imagine this was real. She felt as if she were in a dream, as if she were watching herself from the outside. And yet, from the pushing and shoving of the crowd, the noisy street, the smell, the braying of donkeys and bleating of sheep, the heat, the chaos, she knew it was real. It was very, very real.
To her astonishment, Caitlin realized that the man before her, the man entering in a donkey through the Eastern gate of Jerusalem, was none other than Jesus.
Your guide will appear the Eastern gate.
She could not believe it. She was standing there, at the doorway to history. In history. Watching it unfold as it happened.
Her heart started pounding, as she realized that all the clues, in all the places, had led her to this spot. To this moment in time. This was it. Jesus was her guide. He would lead her to her Dad.
As Caitlin watched him enter, she sensed it to be true. It felt right. Every bone, every vibration in her body told her that it was him, that he was her guide. That he would be the one to take her on the final leg of her journey. To meet her father. To bring her to the Shield.
She watched as he got closer, slowly riding through the crowd. He held up a single hand as he went, palm out, his eyes half-closed. As he went, she watched in disbelief as several crowd members, hunched over and limping, suddenly stood up straight. Healed.
It was incredible. As he went, anyone close to him became healed.
Being Jerusalem, this was also a chaotic and crowded scene. Flooding into the gate behind him were dozens of followers, and behind these there appeared dozens of Romans soldiers, marching, trying to clear the way, to regain order and control. They had scowls on their faces, and looked deeply displeased that Jesus had come, and that he had drawn this crowd. People elbowed to get closer to him, pushing each other out of the way. People screamed Jesus’ name in every direction, wanting his attention, wanting to be healed. Others screamed curses at him, throwing stones, calling him a false Messiah.
Yet as the stones flew through the air, they fell harmlessly to the ground, falling limp as they neared him.
It seemed like everyone in this crowd had a different opinion, a different agenda, different beliefs, a different perspective of him. Caitlin could see from the angry faces of the guards that the Romans were threatened by him and wanted to keep him under a tight watch. Amidst the Romans she saw there was standing a single man, clearly their governor. She recognized his face from the history books: Pontius Pilate. The Prefect of Rome. The one who had killed Jesus.
Caitlin thought of history, and she knew what would happen. Jesus, riding now so harmlessly on his donkey, would soon be captured. Imprisoned. Put on trial. And then, crucified.
The thought of it made Caitlin cringe. She looked at him now—so serene, so peaceful—and it seemed hard to believe that any ill would ever come to him. Just being there, on the outskirts of the crowd, she could already feel a sense of peace. It was actually the first time she had felt a real sense of peace since she had arrived back in this place and time. She didn’t know why, but she felt a great sense of comfort around him.
She also felt excited. Every clue she had ever found pointed her to this moment in time. She felt that, in just moments, he would lead her to her Dad.
As Jesus made his way through the crowd on his donkey, slowly, the crowd parted ways. Caitlin pushed her way through a row of people, trying to get closer. She had to see him up close. She wondered if he would even acknowledge her—or if she were just imagining all of this. Had the clue meant something else entirely?
She felt the urgency of time now more than ever. She didn’t have a moment to lose.
Caitlin managed to edge closer, her heart pounding. As she neared him, she felt a warmth spreading throughout her entire body, and an indescribable sense of peace. Jesus was sitting straight up, eyes half closed, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. Caitlin hoped, prayed, that somehow he might acknowledge her. That this was all real. That he could lead her to her Dad.
As she got closer, he suddenly turned her way, and looked directly at her. Then, he lowered his hand and held it out to her.
Caitlin could hardly breathe, she was so nervous. He was holding out his fingertips, as if for her to touch them. She reached out, slowly, her hand shaking, and the tips of her fingers just barely grazed his.
As they did, her entire body was electrified. The shock ran through her fingertips, down her arm, and through her entire body. The amount of energy that poured through him was more than she could fathom: it was like a tsunami. The energy rejuvenated and healed her at the same time. It made her aware of her own power. Of her own existence. For the first time in as long she could remember, she felt truly alive.
Jesus looked down at her, expressionless, his eyes aglow, gazing into hers.