Thomas Greanias - The Promised War

The sun beat down ever hotter as Deker approached the site of his latest candidate for Gilgal. This one had a familiar grade with a few ancient redbud trees bent in a way Deker had seen only once before. Deker was still consumed by an obsession for the truth that his discharge from the IDF and the offer to rejoin the Americans had only inflamed.

He took a shovel and started digging, continuing long after the sun went down and the moon came up.

Then he struck something.

He shined a light on the slab of rock and felt his heart jump when he saw the seal engraved on the surface: the sign of Judah.

It was one of the dolmen stones, but considerably smaller-maybe half of its original size, as though it had been cut or broken in two.

He felt a surge of hope and spent the next two hours digging around the slab, ultimately using his Jeep's winch to pull it out and reveal the silo beneath it.

The silo was still filled with grain so old and cracked, it was like dust. Simply inhaling made him breathe it in and he coughed. He tied a cloth around his mouth like a surgical mask and dug through it until he struck something else.

It was a small bronze box with a crescent moon on it.

Just like Rahab's jewelry box.

His heart skipped a beat.

He blew away the dust and cracked open the box.

As soon as he saw what was inside, he fell to his knees, weeping for no reason he could name. A moment later, after he had composed himself, he removed it.

His IDF tag with the Star of David.