The Twelfth Insight: The Hour Of Decision Part 7

I remembered what Colonel Peterson had told me.

"You're talking about the end-times people," I said. "Those wis.h.i.+ng for Armageddon."

"Yes."

Just at this moment, the low whine of four-wheelers interrupted our conversation. They were still far away but were bearing down on us at a fast pace. People everywhere were hurrying to break down their tents and gather their belongings.

"We'd better get out of here!" I said, jumping up and loading my pack.

"I'll get my tent and be right back," he said, rus.h.i.+ng into the darkness.

Just then, I was jolted by a woman's scream about fifty feet away. Several men with big flashlights had grabbed her and were looking all through her belongings. Several more men were heading my way.

With no other choice, I stuffed everything into my pack and ran into the darkness. All over the area now, I could see men with flashlights searching through people's campsites, obviously looking for something. I crouched low as one group of men rushed into a camp less than thirty feet from where I was hiding. Beams from their lights swept over me.

"Let us have your translations," one of the men said in an Arabic accent. Another shouted to an a.s.sociate in what was clearly continental Indian. I recognized one of the men as belonging to the group holding Rachel. He was the tall man with a beard.

Now the four-wheelers were on us, and the men quickly scattered, the flashlights suddenly going dark. I moved away from the rangers, looking around as best I could for any sign of Coleman. Finally, I hid among some rocks about a hundred yards away. Dozens of rangers were herding people into groups and moving them out of the clearing. I headed farther north.

After about an hour, I froze. Someone seemed to be creeping toward me from the left. The sound stopped, and I backed away in the other direction and right into the grasp of a lone figure who pushed a handgun into my ribs. I was wrestled to the ground by another man, and one of the big flashlights popped on in my face.

They pulled me along for about a half mile farther toward the north into an area of thick pines, where more than twenty people met us. A small campfire flickered light over the scene. This was the rest of the group that had Rachel.

A man who seemed to be the leader came over and gazed at me for a long moment. He was thickly built, had dark hair that was graying, and was dressed in military fatigues. He shook his head and turned away. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my wits about me and stay out of panic. After all, I told myself, Rachel had been with these people for a while, and she hadn't looked too upset earlier.

On the other hand, they had just come into the clearing and had terrified everyone, apparently looking for parts of the Doc.u.ment. I could see folders and loose papers stacked near a lone cactus. One man walked over and began searching through my pack, easily finding my copies.

Suddenly, two other people emerged from the darkness. One was Rachel and the other was an Arab male of about thirty-five who was attired in more formal Arab dress. Rachel moved closer and saw me, our eyes meeting for just an instant before our view was blocked.

The leader then walked over and casually sat down in front of me.

"Where are the rest of your Doc.u.ments?" he asked. It was the same man I'd heard speaking with a continental Indian accent.

I was determined to stay centered and to be truthful or say nothing. "That's all I have," I said.

He gave me what I could only describe as a serene smile. "Okay, my friend, then where might we find the rest of this artifact?"

"I don't know. One has to be guided to it."

"And you, are you guided by Colonel Peterson?"

I was stunned, which made the leader's eyes light up. He was obviously pleased with himself that he knew of the colonel's existence.

"Oh, yes," he added, "I know all about his group. And I want you to tell me all you know about him."

"That's easy," I said. "I only met him for the first time earlier today, and I don't know anything about him, except that he's interested in what this Doc.u.ment has to say, just as you apparently are."

"Yes, we're studying it right now," the leader said. His eyes tellingly glanced at Rachel, who was sitting beside the stack of papers.

"So what about you?" I asked. "What do you think about this Doc.u.ment?" He seemed to be amused that I would dare to ask a question in this circ.u.mstance.

"It has nothing to tell us," he a.s.serted. "We already have the truth."

He turned and began talking to the well-dressed man who was with Rachel. He called him Adjar.

At that moment, Rachel looked directly into my eyes, which was so overwhelming I had to s.h.i.+ft my gaze. The connection wasn't romantic-at least I thought it wasn't. But it was definitely unusual, and I felt it at depths I had no idea how to explain. As I looked at her with my peripheral vision, I realized she was trying to communicate something.

Cooperate, she seemed to be saying with her eyes. Don't make waves. Which threw me into a quandary. To stay clear, I had to remain centered and aware, and to do that I had to tell the truth as I knew it. I would have to phrase my truthful comments in a way that would keep me out of trouble with this guy.

The leader was walking back toward me.

"This idea of ideology," he said. "It refers to people who are living lies and know it, yes? Like those who lie and steal for money, like you people in the West."

He looked closely to see if I was going to defend Modern life, but the thought came to me to go in another direction.

"I think the Doc.u.ment is pointing," I said, "to those people who have set ideas about reality and aren't open to any discussion about it. They stop growing and just repeat the past. They aren't conscious in their conversation."

"Like Peterson?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You know!"

For the first time he looked fully menacing, and I knew I was on tricky ground here.

"Okay," I said. "I think he is trying to find a way to stop the war over religion before it's too late."

He looked as though he was trying to control an inner outrage.

"He only wants power for himself," he said. "Besides, the war cannot be stopped. It is destined. I think you are trying to deceive me."

With that he turned away again. Rachel was staring at me, cautioning me to be careful.

The leader looked at Adjar. "Set a guard over them all night."

Adjar nodded to two other men who lifted me up and had me sit by Rachel, then he said something to the other woman in Hebrew. She moved over to a rock about ten feet away to watch us, an Uzi machine pistol in her lap. He called her Hira.

I leaned over toward Rachel and noticed her rose perfume again, which in this setting made her seem otherworldly, or angel-like.

"Who are these people?" I whispered.

"I've been with them a while," she said quietly, "and I still don't know much about them. They mostly belong to Arabic sects, but they have Westerners with them, too, Jews and Christians from all over. The only connection I can see is that they are all into end-times Prophecy. The leader's name is Anish. He's the one who holds them all together."

I quickly told her what Peterson had said about religious extremists desiring Armageddon.

She thought for a moment. "I know Anish is planning something. I just don't know what it is. They call themselves Apocalyptics."

"And they won't let you leave?"

"I haven't pressed the issue. They made me agree to help them understand the Doc.u.ment, although only a few of them are comprehending it." She glanced over at Adjar who quickly looked away.

I took a breath and then told Rachel about the men terrifying the campers at the clearing.

"I was thinking they might be forcing people to give up their copies," she said.

She looked at me, trying to find my eyes again. "How far have you gotten with the Integrations?"

"I'm through the Third and some of the Fourth."

"So you get the problem with polarizing ideologies, and the disregard of moderate views?"

"Yes."

She seemed to light up. "Well, the conclusion of the Fourth is revealing. It says there is only one solution to the problem of people who are lost in ideologies. The Doc.u.ment says those of us in Alignment, holding a central position of truth, have to reach them."

"What does that mean?"

"It explains that enough of us have to move through the Integrations until we have enough influence to persuade them, before it's too late, that Alignment is the only way. People can change in the blink of an eye."

"A race against time," I said.

She gave me a puzzled look.

"Just something a friend told me when I first heard about the Doc.u.ment."

At this moment, the leader, Anish, walked up and said something to Adjar. Then he gave me a long look. He seemed to grow irritated that I was returning his stare. He stormed over.

"Who are you to look into my eyes?" he yelled. "Show deference! You are here, alive, both of you, because I allow it. When you no longer serve our cause, I can dispense with you in an instant." He snapped his fingers to ill.u.s.trate the point.

Then, strangely, his demeanor became calm again, and he smiled. "Tomorrow, you will tell me everything you know."

He glared one more time at both of us and walked off.

The threat was convincing, and I felt my energy plummet. Rachel looked at me hard. She glanced at our guard, Hira, who returned her look with concern. Hira jumped down from the rock with amazing athletic ease, ready for whatever was going to happen. Rachel nodded at her.

I realized then that Rachel must have developed a friends.h.i.+p with this woman with the Uzi. In fact, Rachel seemed to have a Connection with both Hira and Adjar. After she was sure he wasn't coming back, Rachel leaned over again, still searching for my eyes.

"There's one last thing in the Fourth," she said. "All of us must admit that we can't marshal enough influence on our own to stand up to such people. It says we have to break through to a larger part of ourselves ... and find our 'protection.'"

THE G.o.d CONNECTION.

I sat alone, staring at the dying fire. The well-dressed Arab man, Adjar, had returned and talked for a long time with Rachel as they gathered up the copies of the Doc.u.ment.

Afterward, he supervised as I erected my tent, then escorted Rachel to her own tent, leaving me alone except for Hira, our guard, and three extremists who were sitting together on the far side of the camp. Occasionally, the men would burst into muted laughter as they smoked cigarettes and took turns drinking from a bottle of wine.

My mind was spinning over the situation. My energy had crashed, and I had no idea what to do. I thought momentarily of the Doc.u.ment's idea of finding Protection but found no help. Whatever was intended by that word would remain a mystery until something happened in my experience to give it meaning. Until then it was just one more abstract term.

Looking again at Hira, I figured I could make a run for it and perhaps get away, but that move would leave Rachel here alone, and I wasn't going to abandon her. Hira looked around suddenly and stared hard at me, and when our eyes met, her look s.h.i.+fted into something akin to curiosity or inquisitiveness, but only for an instant.

Something in her look made me feel better, and I thought about trying to speak with her but decided against it. The day had been long, and in spite of the fear, an irresistible fatigue was descending on me. For a few minutes I looked out into the night and tried to conjure up an expectation of Synchronicity. Then I crawled into my tent, literally unable to stay conscious. Where was Wil? I wondered. And Coleman?

I was awakened by the m.u.f.fled sound of conversation outside my tent. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard Rachel's voice distinctly. I glanced at my watch. It was an hour before dawn.

"Don't you see?" she said in a loud whisper. "We have to figure out how to bridge our differences."

I peaked through the tent flap and could see Rachel outside by the fire. Adjar was sitting across from her. The rest of the camp was dark and silent. Hira was no longer on the rock.

Rachael was pressing. "Spirituality cannot be forced. People must discover it for themselves."

He was shaking his head. "What we believe is that culture must be shaped and kept spiritual. The spiritual rules must be maintained by those in charge. Otherwise, our people would be spoiled and lazy. Look at the indecency and degradation of your movies and music. And you hold up your corrupt politics as something to be proud of?"

"Look," she argued, "I don't like parts of our culture, either. But freedom is important, for men and women. What if the Doc.u.ment is correct? You understand what it says. You've experienced the Alignment. What if people everywhere could learn to practice a spirituality that establishes the discipline you speak of, but is voluntary and engaged in because of the thrill of the experience?"

Suddenly, Hira returned with an alarmed look and began speaking to Rachel in Hebrew. Adjar looked as though he wanted to strike her, but he turned and walked a few paces away in disgust.

I pushed through the tent flap then and startled them all. Rachel shot me a look of grave concern and walked over to Adjar.

"Some of the others have opened up to Hira," Rachel whispered to Adjar. "Anish is saying he's not going to let us go! You have to help us get away!"

Adjar said nothing.

"You know what the Doc.u.ment is saying," Rachel pressed. "It says we can experience a Breakthrough of some kind. We have to figure out what that is. It could lead to a resolution between both sides. What if Armageddon doesn't have to happen?"

Adjar turned away again, as though under terrible stress.

Finally, he said, "Okay. Get your belongings."

Hira ran up to Rachel, her gun hanging from her shoulder, pointed to herself, and said something, which seemed to mean she was going with us.

Rachel turned and looked at me, smiling as though thoroughly astounded that her plea had been granted. I whirled around and began dismantling my tent as quietly as possible. Within minutes, the three of us were carefully walking to the north. Behind us, Adjar was standing motionless watching us go, the firelight glistening on his tall forehead.

"What about Adjar?" I whispered to Rachel. We were climbing up the steep, wooded incline in the direction of Secret Mountain.

She stopped and looked back at him.

"I don't know," she said.

Rachel found a break in a steep outcropping where we could make our way to the right along a small ridge. Suddenly, we heard a loud sequence of yells and arguing behind us at the Apocalyptics' camp, apparently at the discovery of our absence. I could see the large flashlights come on again and a group of men begin heading our way.

We hurried our pace toward the north, ever deeper into the Secret Mountain Wilderness. This area, I knew, was at least forty square miles of rough terrain. We walked until well after sunrise, and at each rise in the terrain we stopped to rest and to check if the extremists were following us. Each time we would see them still back there but not catching up.