Suddenly, she pulled Charlotte to the wall as a cardiac team came racing around the corner pushing a defibrillator. Another race against time and flesh. She could feel Death grinning.
“Sorry,” the nurse said. “There’s another reason we call them ‘crash carts.’ ”
They continued down the corridor.
“You might not like what you’re going to see,” the nurse apologetically explained. “Since he’s not breathing on his own, we’ve got him on a ventilator. Lots of tubes in his chest and throat. For the time being, we have him under heavy sedation.”
Hearing this, Charlotte got choked up, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Okay.”
They walked by two more rooms that had clear glass walls. Inside the third, Charlotte spotted Donovan propped up in a bed. With so many tubes taped over his mouth and nose, he was identifiable only by his hairless scalp and drooping eyebrows.
“Here we are.” The nurse stopped outside the door. “You may want to say a prayer for him.” She placed a consoling hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I truly believe it helps. If you need anything or have questions, my name is Maryanne.”
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done. Thank you, Maryanne.”
The nurse made her way back to the triage station.
For a long moment, Charlotte stood by the door, frozen in place. Finally she made her way to his bedside, pulled a chair close, and sat beside him facing the door. The tears came harder, and when she brushed them away, she stared long and hard at her glistening fingertips, thinking how the healing powers in her DNA had so easily transferred to Cohen’s son. But she kept wondering: would the boy’s genome have completely recoded to resemble her own . . . and Jesus’s? It couldn’t be that simple, or Joshua would’ve had no trouble coming into contact with the Ark.
At the genetic level, something has to be different inside me.
But how could such a distinction, such a genetic selection, be made? The concept set myriad scientific principles on end. The rabbi’s proposition seemed impossible—that she’d been among the “chosen.” But how could a box filled with stone tablets, a scepter, and bones distinguish her from any other? Then again, those were no ordinary bones, the way they glowed like moon rocks. And that incredible light on the Ark’s lid . . .
The all-powerful eternal light.
The idea that the ancient Egyptians had somehow stumbled upon the secrets of creation and God seemed far-fetched. Even modern genetic study couldn’t come close to unlocking those mysteries. But what if there was some truth to what Cohen had told her? Moses’s exodus. One supreme god somehow embodied in light?
Carefully, she placed her hand on Donovan’s forearm and studied the clear intravenous tubes snaking into his hand.
He felt cold, so cold.
From her bag, she pulled a small syringe one-third filled with her blood and uncapped it. She glanced back through the glass partition to verify that no one was watching. Concealing the syringe in her hand, she pierced the needle through the IV’s injection port. Uttering a silent prayer, she depressed the plunger with steady pressure until the cylinder emptied.
Another anxious glance at the corridor. No one watching.
She withdrew the syringe, capped it, and slipped it back into her purse.
Studying Donovan with hopeful anticipation, she found it hard to imagine what was happening inside him at the genetic level. Recoding of genes? Cells repairing themselves? But one thing was certain: the damage was being undone—dare she think, miraculously ?
“You’re going to feel some tingling,” she whispered, stroking his arm.
Epilogue
******
Belfast
Charlotte ambled beside Father Donovan, her hiking shoes swishing through Milltown Cemetery’s dewy grass. A chilly breeze rustled some yellow-tinted leaves off an oak tree’s branches, portending autumn’s early arrival. The sloping hillside provided a dramatic panorama of the city, just beyond the A501 motorway bordering the property. Lively jazz music echoed up from the Cathedral Quarter, where the Belfast Music Festival was kicking off its second day.
Donovan was wrapping up a very important call that he’d received on his mobile just as they’d gotten out of the car. Smiling, he slipped his cell phone into his pocket, then glanced over at her and flicked his eyebrows.
“So?” She swept her red curls back from her face. A bulky Blarney
Woollen Mills sweater kept her warm.
“The Swiss Guard apprehended him last night as he tried to leave Vati
can City.”
“What will happen to him?”
“Nothing good, that’s for sure. Father Martin falsified documentation
to allow those two men in . . . the deskman was killed, you were abducted—”
“And you were left for dead.”
“That too,” he humbly replied. “Being an accomplice to these things . . .”
He shook his head gravely. “Some serious charges. The commandante told
me there’ll be a trial in a few weeks. We’ll both need to testify, of course.” “Of course.”
“And when will you be returning to Israel?”
“A few days, maybe. Told them I’m still recuperating.”
“But you will do it?” he asked with insistent eyes.
She sighed. “I’d be a fool not to. Besides, they seem to be having trouble
opening it. And when they found out I have the magic touch . . .” A playful shrug.
He smiled. “I must admit I’m quite envious. To be able to study the
Ark of the Covenant?” It was difficult for him to grasp the profundity of
the story she’d told him about the events following her abduction from
Vatican City. But the very notion that she’d likely touched the Bible’s
most legendary relic? He shook his head in disbelief. “An incredible opportunity.”
“You know, if I agree to this, I will be needing some help—theologically
and otherwise. I’ve already made a couple friends in Israel—an archaeologist and an Egyptologist. I recruited them for the project. But I was thinking, if you have some time, maybe you can accompany me . . . lend some
support?”
Beaming, Donovan eagerly replied, “You think the Israelis will allow
it? I mean, I don’t suppose they’ll fancy me being a Catholic priest and
all.”
“As I see it, if they want these puppies to open that box”—she splayed
out all her fingers and wiggled them—“they won’t have much choice now,
will they?”
Donovan chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. Well then, I am honored
and you can count on me.”
“I knew I could.”