Jeremy Robinson - The Didymus Contingency

“Jesus!” Judas yelled from a street running parallel to the beach, “Take cover! A possessed man wielding a sword is coming for you!”

Jesus and David quickly hurried to Judas.

“From where does this man come?” Jesus asked.

Judas was out of breath, but managed to point to a street, which led up a hill.

“Where’s Tom?” David asked, suddenly concerned.

“He’s coming…I…passed him on the way…he’s a slow…runner,” said Judas.

A howl from the top of the hill pulled their attention away from Judas. Samuel was at the crest, wielding his sword high in the air.

David had never seen this man before, but the location and circumstances filled David’s memory, “Legion…”

Jesus shot David a look. He had heard. He heard David say the name before it was known. David slunk back and pursed his lips tight as the disciples arrived with the crowd in tow, hoping his foreknowledge would be forgotten.

Samuel screeched and lunged down the hill toward the beach, toward Jesus. Many in the crowd turned and fled; the rest, including the disciples and David, simply backed away. “Stand behind me and do not fear this man,” Jesus said, standing his ground.

Samuel was like a freight train with a sword. He seemed immeasurably dense, like he could crash through a cement wall. And still, Jesus held his ground. Samuel was only ten feet from Jesus when, “Jesus! Look out!”

Whump!

Tom tackled Samuel from the side, sending both men to the ground. The crowd collectively gasped. The sword fell from Samuel’s hand, but he was not deterred from his goal. Samuel got to his feet and pounded toward Jesus. Tom was on his feet too, and preparing to make a second attempt.

“Tom, don’t!” David shouted, but it was too late.

Tom dove onto Samuel’s back and hung on like a baby monkey clinging to its mother. Samuel growled and thrashed about wildly. Tom had wrestled during his high school years and for a short time had considered trying out for the Israeli Olympic team. He knew the headlock he had wrapped around Samuel’s throat was unbreakable and should put the man in a deep sleep within a minute. If only Tom could hold on.

Samuel ran backwards and slammed into the wall of a fishery. Tom grunted in pain as his backside indented the wall. Tom gritted his teeth and squeezed tighter still. He was not going to let this man go.

Samuel swung his body from side to side, flailing Tom’s legs in the air. It had been a full minute since Tom locked his arms around Samuel, and he had increased the pressure with every resistance Samuel offered up. But the man wasn’t slowing down, and Tom’s arms were growing sore. Tom tightened his grip with all his reserves, hoping it would do the man in-finally.

And it seemed to be working. Samuel staggered slowly and then stopped moving altogether. Tom never loosened his grip. But then Tom felt a hand on his wrist and then a crushing force. He grunted in pain and looked forward. Samuel was slowly, methodically pulling Tom’s arm away, like he had all the time in the world and no use for oxygen. Within seconds, Tom’s arms were pulled away from Samuel’s neck.

Samuel snapped his head toward Tom and took him by the robe. “We will remember you,” Samuel said, as his penetrating eyes burned into Tom’s memory.

Seconds later, Tom was airborne, as Samuel tossed him like a football. Tom sailed over the crowd and splashed down in the water. Jesus watched Tom land and then turned his head back to Samuel the fisherman, staring him straight in the eyes. Samuel froze in his tracks, his fingers only inches from Jesus’s neck.

“Come out of him,” said Jesus in a calm voice.

Samuel began to twitch from head to toe as though a thousand needles were pricking him. He fell to his knees and was no longer a powerful beast. He was instantly reduced to a pitiful horde of personalities. “What do you want with us, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Please! Do not torture us!”

“What is your name?” Jesus asked, as though talking to an insignificant and inferior creature.

“We are Legion. Please do not send us into the abyss! Mercy! Yes, Mercy! Have mercy on us as you did during the rebellion! MERCY, mercy! There! Send us into them!” Samuel shouted, as he pointed to the heard of pigs foraging on the nearby hillside.

“The swine! Yes! YES! Send us into them! Mercy! MERCY!”

“Go,” Jesus said.

Samuel’s head arched toward the sky and his mouth gaped open as the sound of fifty wailing voices escaped his lungs. As soon as the last voice was silenced, Samuel fell and was caught by Jesus.

Tom pulled himself to his feet by clinging to the side of the boat. He had heard the screaming voices asking Jesus to have mercy, but couldn’t understand what was happening or how that man had thrown him so far. He was sure his ribs were bruised and his head pounded harder than ever. It had been years since Tom had run that fast, that far, and then into a fight. He was getting old.

The wall of people blocking Tom’s view had fallen silent, so he assumed that whatever happened was over and his assistance wasn’t needed. Not that he’d be any help. But what was that? A noise in the distance growing louder…like people screaming…but worse.

The crowd of people standing in front of Tom began to scatter in either direction. What now? Tom remained in the water, six feet from the shore, assuming that whatever was going to happen next, he’d be safe there. No one in this time period could manage more than a frantic dogpaddle, anyway.

As the last of the crowd blocking his view moved, Tom saw something he only thought could happen in frightening fairy tales. A herd of fat, wailing pigs barreled down the street and onto the beach. There was no running, no hiding. Tom was in the herd’s path and had nowhere to go. He leapt from the water into the boat they had used to cross the sea, and held on tight.

Tom heard the pigs plow into the water. He heard them screech and then choke and die. He raised his head slightly to see what was happening. Screak! One of the pigs jumped into the boat, its mouth full of foam, and then just as quickly hopped out of the boat, directly over Tom’s head. Tom screamed and jumped to his feet. He stood like a statue.

Everything was quiet as Tom spun around, scanning the water with his eyes. The entire herd of pigs was floating, dead in the water. Tom covered his mouth. As the pigs floated out to sea, he saw a clearing through the water to the beach and took it. David met him on the shore.

“What the hell was that?” Tom demanded to know, in English.

“Tom, watch your language!” David whispered.

“What, I can’t say hell now, either?”

“You’re speaking in English!”

Tom fell silent and then collected himself. He continued in Aramaic, “So, what happened?”

“That man you tried to tackle was possessed by a legion of demons. Jesus sent them into the herd of pigs,” David explained, “Are you okay?”

“Is that supposed to be funny, ha-ha, or just plain ridiculous?” Tom asked.

“They don’t think it’s very funny,” David said, as he pointed to the crowd standing on the street, away from Jesus, who was still holding Samuel. Tom lowered his eyebrows when he saw the faces of the crowd, and he walked closer to hear what was happening.

Samuel was awake and standing on his own, but still leaning on Jesus for support. A hefty man in the crowd stepped forward and said, “Please, leave us. We…don’t want you here.”

Many in the crowd began to run away, afraid of Jesus, just as they were afraid of Samuel. Tom knew it was human nature to fear the unknown and right now, Jesus was the epitome of the unknown. But Samuel did not fear him. “Please Master, let me come with you,” Samuel said.