Free The Didymus Contingency by Jeremy Robinson Page B

language.
    Tom rolled from the hit and slammed into an old woman whose arms were full of food. Her bread and fruit fell to the ground. Tom bent over as best he could and started to help the woman pick up her goods, but she swatted at him like a pesky dog. “Back! Get back! You beggars won’t be getting any of my food!” the woman yelled.
    The woman’s language sounded strange to Tom, but the message was clear. He tried to explain in bad Hebrew, “I’m just trying to help you.”
    Wide, angry eyes stared at Tom from the woman’s wrinkled face and she yelled, “You speak like a man with half a mind!” She spoke in perfect Hebrew. “Away with you!”
    The woman took one last swat at Tom, who moved away from her quickly and in doing so, ran into a large man’s elbow. Tom heard a crack in his nose as the cartilage twisted from the impact. As Tom fell to the ground, the large man simply looked down at Tom and walked away, seemingly unfazed and uncaring about the collision. Pebbles on the dirt road dug into Tom’s palms when he caught himself on the ground.
    Tom grimaced in pain. His first time travel experience was not going well. He pushed himself up onto his knees and looked at his hands. They were covered in muddy blood. He did his best to remove the rocks, which caused him great pain, and to wipe away the dirt from his wounds. He trembled at the idea of how many foreign bacteria were now invading his system.
    Still on his knees in the middle of the road, Tom removed the last stone. He grunted in pain and clenched his hands together.
    “That’s not the best place to be praying,” came a deep voice from behind Tom. The man spoke perfect Hebrew.
    Tom looked up and saw the man standing over him. He was rugged, like a man gets from years of physical labor. His facial features gave the initial impression that this was the kind of man you wouldn’t want to get into a barroom brawl with, but at the same time, he had kind eyes.
    “I’m...I’m not praying,” Tom said.
    “Of course not,” the rugged man said with a chuckle. He reached down for Tom’s hands. “Here, get off the ground before you’re trampled to death.”
    Tom took the man’s hands and was pulled to his feet. The rugged man eyed Tom curiously. “Are you a slave or a prince?” the man asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    The man pointed at Tom’s clothes and said, “You are dressed like a beggar or slave...”
    The man took hold of Tom’s wrist and held it so the time watch could be seen and said, “Yet you are adorned with an object that is no doubt from a far away land and worth fifty sheep.”
    Tom smiled at the comment. The watch he wore was far more valuable than fifty sheep. It was probably the most valuable object in human history, well, one of the ten most valuable , he thought. He tried to explain, “I’m...from far away, where it is not uncommon for people of average stature to wear such things.”
    The rugged man seemed to understand, “That explains why your Hebrew is so bad. Do you not speak Aramaic?”
    “No,” Tom replied.
    The man didn’t seem shocked, “If you plan to stay in Israel, you must learn.”
    Tom smiled, “I’ll try.”
    “You look weary, my friend. Come let me buy you a drink,” the rugged man offered.
    “That would be great,” Tom said with a tinge of guilt, knowing he shouldn’t even be talking to this man, but he thought one drink with a historical nobody shouldn’t do much to alter the future. Besides, he was as thirsty as hell.
    The rugged man led Tom down the road. As Tom began to walk with the man, he brushed his hands off against his dirty robe. Brush...Brush...Brush. Dust clapped away into the air, revealing Tom’s bare palms, which were no longer cut or bleeding. All that remained were dry bloodstains. His wounds were healed completely, as if they had never been. Perhaps from lack of pain, or confusion from his whirlwind tour of the past, Tom never noticed.

—SIX—

    Impact

    28 A.D.
    4:46