Free The Greatest Gift by Michael John Sullivan

wooden weapon inside his pocket.
    He pulled the top part of his robe over his head like a hoodie to conceal his identity. I hope Elizabeth doesn’t give Leah a stroke or heart attack. Leah has no idea Elizabeth has risen from the dead. That will either scare her or kill her. There’s no good ending to this.
    His thoughts pushed his legs to move with more urgency. He couldn’t decipher how long he ran in sheer panic so he stopped. Calm down. I won’t get there any faster by falling apart. Maybe Elizabeth had a reason why she wanted to visit Leah. Michael shook his head. No. The reasons she gave didn’t make sense. There’s something terribly wrong with her. He bent down to catch his breath for a brief moment. When he straightened up, he noticed Leah’s town in the distance.
    Initially he wanted to complete the journey by finding the apostle, hiding the relic and getting Elizabeth back to Northport. That all changed when she left. Selfish as it seemed, he wanted no part of the journey asked of him.
    Lord, please help us get home. My daughter’s been through so much. I want to see her graduate from high school. I want to take pictures of her on Prom Day. See her off to college. Hold my gran d children. I’ve had enough of this running around in the First Ce n tury.
    He sprinted, pushing himself so hard he staggered to the front of the courtyard. He took a quick, desperate sip of water from the well. He threw the bucket back down and ran inside Leah’s house.
    Shattered pieces of clay littered the kitchen floor, and a wooden table lay broken against the wall. A smoldering fire clung to its last spark in the stove.
    He raced from room to room, his weapon drawn at shoulder level. He climbed to the second floor, stepping on the dinner mats and crushing a plate.
    Furious, he yelled out as if his daughter were standing in front of him. “You make me so crazy, Elizabeth. This time you’ve really done it. This time we both may not get out alive. Are you happy about that? How many times must I battle these Romans? How many?”
    He scurried to the room at the far end of the second floor, shouting out the window . “Lord,” he screamed. “Where are you? I’m trying to help you. Why aren’t you helping me?”
    He slid down the wall, his head pressed against the lower part of the window. “I want to go home, Lord. I want to take my daughter home too. Now. Right now. No more delays. No more instructions. No more chasing people. Is that too much to ask? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Is this how my faith is rewarded?”
    He took a deep breath, waiting for an answer. He heard absolute silence. He stood, leaned out the window and saw the vacant courtyard. He looked out to the horizon and turned his head to the right and left. He saw nothing.
    Where are they, Lord? Tell me. Point me in the right direction . I’m a desperate man. I need your help right now. He climbed the last step to the roof, hand clenched on his weapon and looked around.
    Empty.
    He circled around the steep and short elevated parts. What’s this? He leaned down and picked up a shoe he had made not long ago. Elizabeth. This was the one I gave her . There was blood on it.
    He bent over and squeezed his head with both hands. “No!” He raged around the roof and looked skyward, shouting, “Elizabeth!”
    Michael fell to his knees but then got up immediately. He grabbed his chest and threw up. He gagged and staggered around the roof a few more times before tucking the shoe inside his pocket.
    He raced down the stairs, leaped and fell, never touching the last three rungs. He cursed under his breath and got up, swatting a piece of broken wood from the table. He looked around for other weapons and found a spear buried under a bedroll. He searched in a small box and grabbed several pieces of silver.
    Michael heard two men approaching the house, sounding like they were engaged in an argument. He remained quiet and listened, taking a quick peek out the