Glenn Kleier - The Last Day

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.