SIXTY-TWO

The long guns of the armored divisions of the Russian-Islamic coalition had been stationed in Jordan near the border with Israel. The Jordanian government filed a formal protest with the United Nations, saying that it did not consent to a “military occupation.” But everyone versed in Middle Eastern politics knew it was a ruse.

Then the shelling of the suburbs of Tel Aviv from the 200 mm guns in Jordan began. Apartment buildings, homes, and government buildings on the outskirts of the fashionable Mediterranean city started exploding and crumbling into dust.

The IDF staff in the Tel Aviv headquarters was sent into a reinforced bunker. They decided to send fighters from the Ramat David Air Base to pummel the gun positions on the other side of the Jordan River, but before they were airborne, nearly two dozen Israeli jets were damaged or destroyed by the incoming shells, which were also aimed at the air base.

As the enemy coalition expected, the IDF also sent fighter jets to control the airspace over Tel Aviv, expecting an air attack on the city. The first wave of enemy planes was launched from the decks of the Russian aircraft carriers at dawn. Fifty bombers and MiG fighter jets engaged the IDF jets in a ferocious air battle. Most of the MiGs were destroyed or routed. But not until they had dropped enough bombs to devastate downtown Tel Aviv. The streets were crawling with citizens running for their lives, seeking shelter amidst the screaming air-raid sirens. In the art museum, the most priceless pieces had been quickly locked in an underground vault; the rest were run down the stairs by volunteers who then placed them in waiting vans. The hospital was hit and was now running on emergency generators.

But the toll on the air force was crippling. Half of Israel’s forty jets had been lost in the battle for Tel Aviv. Parachutes of the ejecting Israeli pilots floated through the sky. At IDF central command, General Shapiro knew that losing so many fighters so early could spell doom for any chance of victory.

Then came the news of the enemy’s advance in the north. The Russian-Islamic coalition was moving toward the Israeli border. Soon they would be at Tel Dan.

So the order went out for a hundred of Israel’s F-16s and F-15s — a full third of their entire air force — to get airborne and head north. But when they arrived, they were attacked on both flanks by Russian MiGs, one sortie from the sea and one from across the border in Syria. Thirty-seven of the IDF fighter bombers got through and dropped enough bombs to slow down the invasion, but not for long. When it was over, the Russian-Islamic army of a half million troops had lost only eighteen thousand soldiers on the ground. General Viktor Oragoff was elated. In his words, “Those are acceptable losses. More than acceptable.”

But the Israeli Air Force had been crippled. General Shapiro watched as his chess pieces rapidly disappeared on the war-ravaged board.

The Israelis blasted deep trenches in Highway 90 along the Hula Valley in an effort to slow down the invader’s armored divisions. But the Russians had anticipated that. Their engineering division was equipped with portable titanium steel mini-bridges that could be unfolded and dropped over the trenches so that the troop movements would not be slowed.

From the vantage point of General Viktor Oragoff and General Izmet over the ground invasion in the north, and from the perspective of Vice Admiral Sergei Trishnipov in his sea command on the Mediterranean, nothing was going to stop the coalition from ripping the land of Israel out of the dead hands of the Jews.

The big artillery shells lobbed from the coalition army in Jordan started arriving in the suburbs of Jerusalem. The air-raid sirens blew.

Ethan, Deborah, Esther, Nony, and his wife, Sari, scrambled down the stairway, already jammed with residents, to the reinforced basement below. The apartment tower was shaking. Distant explosions erupted every ten seconds on the streets outside. By the time the five of them had reached the bunker, the shelling was getting closer. The walls vibrated, and cement dust floated down on them from the joists.

Deborah grabbed Ethan’s hand and held it tight. They found a spot in the corner and sat by themselves. She said, “I’ve got to talk to you.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve found myself having some pretty powerful feelings for you. That’s a dangerous thing for me …”

Ethan, trying to play the alpha male, said, “You certainly picked a strange time to tell me that! But don’t worry, sweetheart; I’ll get us out of this.”

“No, you don’t understand. You’re a wonderful guy — more than wonderful. What you’ve done for me, well, there’s no way I can tell you how much that means. But I’m not sure this is going to work … between us.”

Ethan felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. “I don’t understand” was all he could say. Still, this didn’t really feel like a complete surprise.

Deborah had a hard time looking at him while she talked. “I tried to talk about this once before, at Hawk’s Nest. Maybe I should have pursued it more. I’m sure it’s my fault. I let my feelings get in the way, led you on. Now you’re right in the middle of this because of me.”

“I’m not clear. Tell me straight.”

“It’s about the differences between us. And something about you.”

“My life’s an open book. Some of the pages are a little ripped, but it’s open.”

“Okay, Ethan, I have to know for sure where you’re at with God.”

Ethan was taken aback. He knew Deb was an ardent Christian. He’d heard her talk about religious stuff, her beliefs. And there was that talk about God she’d tried to get into on their picnic together. Okay, yes, he’d changed the subject — on purpose. He’d dodged it. So now it was truth or consequences.

He said, “Well, let’s just say — ”

Just then a shell struck the courtyard outside the condo tower. They could hear glass shattering and walls collapsing above them. Ethan listened for more. It was quiet for a moment.

“Right now,” Ethan said, looking up at the ceiling, which was still dropping flakes of plaster, “it’d be nice to have the Big Guy up there as a close friend! Can you pull some strings to get the shelling stopped — ”

“Ethan, I’m serious.”

“I am too — about not getting blown up.”

“I’m talking about you, personally, what’s in your heart.”

Ethan’s face changed. He dropped his cocky smile. Deborah was not going to let it drop. He could see that. And he had to admire her for it. “All right, look,” he said. “I haven’t exactly spent a lot of time thinking about the mysteries of God. I just haven’t. I’m a doer. I’m an action guy. Religion sometimes — and pardon me for saying this — seems like it’s all about praying and reading the Bible and keeping real quiet in church. Hush, hush. So what’s the point?”

“At least you’re honest.”

Ethan could see the disappointment in her face. “So after all of this, you’re going to ditch me because I’m honest?”

“No, not at all. But I can’t get into a serious relationship with you, emotionally, romantically, because of something else.”

“And that would be …”

“The Bible says that when people receive Christ they become new creatures. There’s a spirit that’s born in you — His spirit. That’s what happened to me. You’re a great guy. You’re a hero, Ethan … coming over here for me. And I get this feeling that God has great plans for you, something incredible. But you haven’t made the decision to follow Christ. Not yet. A couple of miles from here, Jesus Christ walked, preached, died, and then amazed the whole world. He walked out of a tomb to prove He was the Son of God — our Redeemer. As scary as this war is … and believe me I’m scared … what happened with Jesus, why He came in the first place — it’s more important than any of this. So the question is, are you willing to follow Him, receive Christ, receive His forgiveness of your sins, let Him turn you into a new creature?”

Ethan’s head bobbed back slightly. “This is pretty heavy.”

“Maybe. But it’s something that separates us right now. Even worse, until you make that decision, it’s going to separate you from God.”

Ethan nodded. He was getting the picture. “I think I’m going to take a pass on this, Deb. Maybe I need to change in some ways, okay, but I’m not seeing the need to take the same path that you did. I’m sorry.”

Deborah turned her face to the side. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry …”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not you,” she said. She lifted his strong hands to her lips and kissed them. Then she let go. “It’s me. I should have known better.”

Just then the upper level of the condo tower was hit with a spine-shaking explosion. The lights in the bunker dimmed and then went out. They sat in darkness until a few people with flashlights and lighters lit them.

In the dim, flickering light, Ethan could see the tears streaming down Deborah’s face.