Zen's War: Captivity
Chapter 49: Exodus

“This is all your fault, I should have never let you talk me into leaving. That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” Bridget said, disparagingly.

“You blame me for everything. Don’t you ever take responsibility for anything? Your problem is that you’ve been here so long that you don’t know how to think for yourself,” Sahara said in her own defense.

“God is punishing us for trying to leave. We’ll definitely be put in the Book of Wickedness for this.”

Just as Sahara was about to try to come up with another plan of escape, there was a tap at the door of the chamber of atonement.

“Did you hear that?” Sahara asked, interrupting Bridget’s rant.

“Did I hear what?” Bridget responded.

“I could’ve sworn that I heard someone knocking on the door.”

“I think that you’re just hearing things. You’re seriously starting to lose it,” Bridget said, disbelievingly.

Just as Sahara was about to respond, there was another knock on the door. This time Bridget could not deny that she had heard it, though she assumed that it was Bartholomew, returned to exact some punishment on them.

“Bartholomew, is that you?” Bridget asked. After about five seconds there was still no response. They then heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. Seconds later the door slowly creaked open. Standing in the doorway was a cloaked figure holding a torch. It was difficult to make out any details in the flickering torch light. Eventually their eyes adjusted. He wore the same white robe that the disciples wore. Sahara didn’t recognize the man who stood there. He had a dark red beard that came down to a point, and a thick mustache. He was extremely skinny and around six feet tall.

“Who are you?” Sahara asked him.

“That’s not important right now. The important thing is that I’ve come to set you free from bondage to the false Messiah Joshua,” he answered.

“I remember you. You’re Judas,” Bridget said.

“My name is not Judas, it’s Judah,” he responded, in an extremely annoyed tone.

“Either way, you’re still a traitor,” Bridget responded venomously.

“Call me what you will. I have simply seen the light,” he answered in his own defense.

“You’re welcome to stay, but I’m out of here,” Sahara told Bridget.

“I can’t leave. I may not like it, but this is my home. If anyone should leave, it should be you,” Bridget said, as her eyes began to glisten with tears.

Sahara stood there in the doorway, uncertain of what she should do next. She didn’t want to leave without Bridget, though she wouldn’t be able to force her to leave. Sahara looked at Judah and then again at Bridget. Maybe she shouldn’t go with him. She had no way of knowing if he was to be trusted. Looking into his green eyes, Sahara saw a sense of calm there. Something about him made her feel safe. She wanted to ask Bridget why she had called him a traitor; however, she didn’t have time to ask. She would have to make a decision, and fast.

“Let’s go, it’s now or never. It’s nearly dusk. When the sun goes down it will be too late; then the final service of the Day of Atonement will have ended, and the entire congregation will return,” Judah said, impetuously.

The next few moments were surreal. Sahara felt as if she was dreaming. Judah reached out his hand, while he still held the torch in his other hand. She realized that this may be the last chance that she would ever have to escape. It was then that she knew she would have to leave Bridget behind. Sahara reached out and grabbed his hand. She had made her decision, and knew that there was no turning back. She ran as fast as she could in a desperate attempt to keep up with him.

Down the hall they ran to the stairway that would lead them to the ground floor of the Temple. When they reached the ground floor, it was eerily silent. The Temple was getting increasingly darker, but thankfully Judah had a lit torch. The shadows were getting longer, which meant that the sun would soon be setting. Suddenly they heard the sound of floorboards creaking, as if somebody was on the floor above them. They stopped dead in their tracks at the top of the stairway. Before they could make another move, Bartholomew appeared at the top of the stairway descending from the second floor.

“Well Judas, you’ve decided to show your face around here again. You shouldn’t have come back, and on the Day of Atonement no less. You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Bartholomew said.

“Someone’s got to stand up to Joshua. You know as well as I do that Joshua is not the true Messiah,” Judah said in response.

“You have betrayed the Son of Man, and in doing so have condemned your soul to perdition,” Bartholomew said, his eyes lit with rage.

“You may not be able to see through Joshua’s shroud of lies, but I can. If it’s my fate to burn in hell, then it’s my fate,” Judah said with a sneer.

Bartholomew stood there seething. The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. From a small leather sheath hidden beneath his robe Bartholomew pulled a knife. Wielding the knife in his right hand Bartholomew came down the stairs at Judah. There was no time to react. Holding the torch in his left hand, Judah tried to resist his attacker single-handedly with his right hand. With all his strength Judah tried to keep Bartholomew’s hand from plunging the knife into his chest.

Sahara was completely helpless. It would’ve been impossible for her to overpower Bartholomew. She jumped out of the way, knowing that trying to help Bartholomew was pointless. It felt like she was frozen in place. In the struggle, Bartholomew dropped the torch on the ground, instantly setting the wooden banister on fire. She knew that once the fire started it would be nearly impossible to extinguish. Her only options were to either stay and burn to death, or make a run for it. She opted for the latter. Leaving the two struggling disciples, she turned around and ran towards the front door and didn’t look back.

She threw open the front door and ran down the steps to the front yard. She turned around and saw black smoke escaping from the open door. She could see the glowing red and white flames through the doorway. Just as she was certain that Judah was dead, he appeared at the doorway. He coughed and hacked, trying to catch his breath. As she stood there watching Judah attempt to recover, he motioned with his arm for her to run. She didn’t want to go on her own. Her thoughts then turned to Bridget who was still in the Chamber of Atonement. She pushed these thoughts aside, knowing they would be of no use. Bridget was beyond saving.

“Run!” Judah yelled, still gasping for breath.

Before he could respond, Judah fell to his knees and collapsed on the porch. She ran back up the stairs to the porch and turned Judah on his back. In the increasing darkness of the coming night it was difficult to see; she could however see that the front of his robe was soaked with blood. In the center of his chest in the area of the expanding blood stain, she could see the wooden hilt Bartholomew’s knife. She felt his neck for a pulse, but could feel none. He was dead, and in a way she felt it was her fault. Sahara had not even known him, but he had tried to save her, and she was appreciative of it. Now she needed to think quickly about her next move. She decided to take the knife, in case she would later need a way to defend herself.

As she put the knife in the pocket of her robe, Bartholomew emerged from the doorway. Behind him the Temple was becoming engulfed in flames.

“Look what you’ve done. If it weren’t for you, Judah would still be alive. Now, you’ve only got two choices. You can either run or stay and be redeemed of your sins. What’ll it be?” Bartholomew asked, while the flames licked at his back.

She didn’t respond, instead she turned around and ran into the darkness. In the chaos of the events that had just transpired Sahara was not thinking clearly. She had no idea where she was running to. The only thing she knew was that she needed to get away from Bartholomew. She would’ve never thought that Bartholomew was actually capable of murder, but obviously he was. She was not anxious to be his next victim.

Sahara ran down the pathway between the rows of cholla cactuses. She continued toward the gate at the end of the pathway, while the distance between Bartholomew and her rapidly diminished. As she reached the gate time seemed to slow to a crawl. The only sound she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her head. When she finally reached within a foot of the gate a miracle occurred. Bartholomew fell to the ground when he tripped on a rock. Sahara heard him hit the ground with a thud. When he fell he had landed face first. While he attempted to stand up, Sahara darted towards the gate.

She climbed up the wooden slats that made up the gate and fence. Fortunately the gate wasn’t that tall, making her climb over easier. When she got to the top she attempted to throw her right leg over the other side of the gate. As she tried to place her foot on the ground, the bottom of her robe got snagged on a nail. Thankfully she didn’t get stuck; instead, her robe simply tore and she fell to the ground on her side. She forced herself up into a standing position using the fence to steady herself and continued running. Against her better judgment she glanced back and saw Bartholomew trying to climb over the gate as she had just done. In front of the Temple Sahara saw Joshua, the eleven other disciples, and ten other wives of Joshua staring in horror at the fiery spectacle before them.

Just as Bartholomew started to climb over the gate he hesitated. He instead stepped back on the ground, turned around, and ran back toward the Temple. She knew this may be her only chance of freedom, so she seized her opportunity to escape. As she ran down the hill and away from her living nightmare, a crescent moon appeared on the horizon. The appearance of the moon was a welcomed sight; she would now be able to see where she was going. The problem was that she didn’t know exactly where she was going.

A few hundred feet in front of her she could see a dirt road leading downhill. She followed the road, though she didn’t know where it would lead. As she ran down the road, adrenaline continued to course through her veins. Her mind was a chaotic mass of contradicting thoughts and emotions. She grieved the death of Bridget, but was grateful that she had achieved her objective to escape. Sahara hadn’t abandoned hope, she had instead kept fighting. Her father would have been proud of her tenacity.

Off in the distance she could see Interstate ten. If she continued down the road she was on, it would bring her directly to the interstate. Her search for her family would now begin. She couldn’t decide whether it was safer to travel by day or night. At night it was easier for someone to sneak up on her, because it was more difficult to see them coming. The day could be just as dangerous, but at least she was more aware of her surroundings. She felt that it would be best for her to find somewhere to sleep overnight and then begin her search for her family at sunrise.

As she came closer to the interstate, she saw what looked like an old gas station. This looked like as good a place as any to sleep. Hopefully no one else had already taken up residence there. Sahara wasn’t as afraid as she thought she would be. She had never felt as alone as she did now. One of the things she would usually have been afraid of was being alone. The traumatic ordeal that she had just undergone had changed her somehow.

When she got to the gas station, she went around to the front of the building. In front of the building were gas pumps under a concrete overhang. She walked past the eight gas pumps to the small storefront behind them. Where there were once large rectangular plate glass windows, there were now large wooden boards in their place. The door hung open, detached from one of its hinges.

When she walked through the doorway it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When her eyes finally adjusted she could see four rows of shelves. Two of the rows of shelves were to the left, and two were to the right of an island where a cashier would have been. All of the shelves were empty. She guessed that it had been at least a couple decades since anything had been on them. In the six months after the nuclear exchange people had scavenged any food they could find. The same was true for the freezers lining the perimeter of the room.

On the ground by the entrance of the gas station was a pile of broken glass she had to jump over to avoid. After she got past the glass she went towards the island in the center of the room. She figured that would be the safest place to sleep, since she would be protected from view on all four sides. It would not be comfortable sleeping on the hard tile floor, but she had little choice. She had no blankets or pillows. When she got to the center of the cashier island, she sat down with her back against one of the walls of the island. She wrapped her robe around her like a blanket in an attempt to keep warm.

As she sat there, she pulled the hood of her robe over her face, and closed her eyes. She attempted to sleep, but sleep evaded her. There were too many thoughts going through her head. Many of her thoughts were driven by fear. One of her greatest fears was that Joshua and his disciples would come looking for her. If they found her the results would not be pretty.

Other thoughts that rolled into her head were driven by hope and pride. Hope was a feeling she had not felt in quite some time. She had never completely abandoned hope; though, she had come close to despair. Now, her hope of being reunited with her family was somewhat closer to becoming a reality. She was proud of herself for standing up to her captors, and having the initiative and strength to escape.

Sahara estimated that dawn must be about six or seven hours away. At first light she would depart in search of her family. Somehow in the chaos of her mind she managed to drift off to sleep.

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