David Epperson - The Third Day

***

Just as Lavon had foreseen, Sharon dumped D. Percival within days of arriving home.

She and I stayed in touch — after all, we shared a bond like none other on the planet — and not long thereafter, our relationship exploded into a passionate affair that eventually morphed into its current form — a complex menage a trios between Sharon, myself, and the Cause.

Ah, the Cause.

Given her experience at the hands of Herod, I can’t claim to be surprised.

Almost as soon as we returned, she began to use her drive and energy — along with a chunk of her old man’s fortune — to turn a dispirited collection of volunteers into one of the planet’s largest organizations devoted to the elimination of human trafficking and the exploitation of women throughout the world.

In fact, as I drove to meet Lavon, she was in the process of opening her group’s fifty-fourth crisis center. Unfortunately, I had to stay behind. In a previous life, I had spent months in that particular garden spot, and I had no inclination to return — at least not without diplomatic immunity.

For a brief moment, I almost felt sorry for the exploiters. I had watched Sharon kill two hardened soldiers, with a sword. Now she stood at the forefront of an institute backed by more than a billion dollars. God help them.

***

As for Naomi, her adjustment did not pass without complications.

For her own safety, we booked a hotel room, where we kept her for a couple of weeks as I hit up my contacts for the requisite paperwork that would permit her to stay in the country permanently.

She spent most of that time with her eyes glued to the television, while Lavon tried to explain her new world in a way she could begin to comprehend.

For my part, I was most concerned about her ability to adapt to the speed of modern life — that she could come all this way and then get run over, on her first trip outside, crossing the street.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.

***

A few minutes later, I spotted the US 60 exit from Interstate 24, just outside Paducah, Kentucky, and headed west. I kept going on Highway 60 for another ten minutes, and then turned left and followed a narrow, winding two-lane road for a couple of miles.

At the sight of a big blue mailbox, I turned right onto a gravel driveway and followed it up to a restored antebellum-style farm house that belonged to one of Lavon’s old college roommates — a man who had spent a decade on Wall Street before deciding to get out while he still possessed a vestigial remnant of his soul.

I hadn’t even made it up the steps when Naomi rushed out the front door.

“Beeeeel,” she shouted as she threw her arms around me.

For someone who had been at it for less than two years, her English was surprisingly good, though she and Lavon occasionally broke into Greek between themselves.

They had gotten married, too — though they didn’t say where — and even a spirit as unromantic as mine could tell that she and the archaeologist were madly in love.

She patted her belly, which displayed just the slightest hint of a bump. She and Lavon both smiled.

“Due in April,” he said.

“If boy, his name Beeel,” she exclaimed.

I didn’t know what to say.

“This is great news,” I finally mumbled.

We went back into the house, where Lavon poured a steaming mug of coffee and caught me up on what had happened since I had last seen them, a few weeks after we had all left Boston.

“A few months after we got back, I tried to return to our dig, but it only took a couple of days for me to realize that it was hopeless,” he said.

That was exactly what I had expected to hear.

“I was invited to a conference several weeks later,” he continued. “The leading lights of my profession were all in attendance. They spoke about their projects, about the important things they were learning, about how much they had been able to deduce from the tiniest fragments of their excavations.”

“And?” I asked, knowing what was coming next.

“I had to sit there for two days, smiling politely, when so much of what they said was wrong — painfully aware that I’d never be able to prove otherwise. I knew that was the end.”

Fortunately, he had some time to consider a second career. He and the Brysons had also reached an accommodation.

“Did you go, too?” I asked Naomi. “Back to Israel?”

She had, though she had initially resisted the idea of returning to Jerusalem.

“Robert finally convince me that Herod dead and palace, uh — ”

“Destroyed,” he said.

“Yes, palace destroyed.”

Unlike Josephus, she didn’t seem all that upset about it.

“And Rome ruined, too,” she said. “Not destroyed, but Empire … gone away,” she corrected.

“We stopped there on our way back from Israel,” Lavon explained.

Like many visitors, Naomi had laughed at the faux legionnaires who hung out in front of the Colosseum, smoking cigarettes and hustling tourists for a quick buck. But she had found the Roman cathedrals baffling.

“It all very strange,” she said.

I couldn’t argue. A single event had spread to a religion that now covered the globe. The leader of a persecuted sect became as powerful as any emperor. The followers of a Jewish rabbi had led attacks on Jews throughout the centuries.

“We’re still working through some things,” he said.

“Aren’t we all,” I replied. “Aren’t we all.”

***

Though this was all very interesting — wonderful news, in fact — I still wasn’t sure why they had asked me to drive eight hours to hear it.

“Why did you want me come here ?” I finally asked.

Naomi’s face lit up; she jumped out of her chair and hugged Lavon, her eyes bursting with delight.

“Robert … he keep promise!” she exclaimed.

Then she rushed outside without another peep.

Lavon didn’t say anything. Instead, he just gestured for me to follow her out the door.

We walked down a gravel pathway toward a freshly painted red barn. As soon as we approached the entrance, Naomi dashed out with a video camera, grabbed me by the arm, and led me around to the other side.

There, resting at the end of a long grass strip, sat two ultralights, both painted a mottled gray interspersed with brown and white flecks.

She pointed her camera at the sky and beamed. “We fly bird! ”

I could only laugh at the irony of it all. Lavon had indeed kept his promise.

“We’re only a few miles from where the Ohio empties into the Mississippi,” he explained. “It’s one of the greatest migration pathways in North America.”

Moments later, his buddy emerged from the barn with four helmets and sets of goggles. After grabbing one of each, Naomi scampered over to the pilot’s seat of the lead craft and motioned for me to follow.

“She can fly that thing?” I asked.

“Better than I can,” Lavon replied. “She’s learning how to read, too. As soon as her English is good enough to pass the test, she wants to get her regular pilot’s license. Once she realized we weren’t spinning some wild tale, she became completely enthralled with the concept.”

“When did she first see an aircraft for real, and not just on TV?”

The archaeologist laughed. “A medivac chopper flew over as we walked out of the hotel for the first time. She hit the ground and tried to crawl under a trash can.”

Obviously, Naomi’s aviation knowledge had progressed a long way since then.

“She’s fascinated with the big jets,” he continued. “The first takeoff on the trip to Israel was a bit unnerving, but now that’s her favorite part. Even when she’s not flying, she likes to go to the airport and watch the planes come and go, all day long.”