"Do you doubt me?" asked Bugenhagen.

"I don't know," Thorn sighed.

The old man sat back and studied him.

"Your unborn child was killed as predicted. Your wife is dead . . ."

"This is a child"

"You need more evidence?"

"Yes."

"Then wait for it," said Bugenhagen. "Be satisfied that what you are doing must be done. Or else you will do it badly. If you are uncertain, they will defeat you."

"They. . . ?"

"You said there was a woman. A woman who cares for the child."

"Mrs. Baylock . .."

The old man sat back, nodding with recognition.

"Her name is B'aalock. She is an apostate of the Devil and will die before permitting this."

They fell silent; footsteps were heard in the cavern behind them. Jennings gradually materialized from the darkness, his face filled with bewilderment.

". . . Thousands of skeletons . . ." he whispered.

"Seven thousand," Bugenhagen responded.

"What happened?"

"Meggido was Armageddon. The end of the world."

Jennings walked forward, shaken by what he had seen.

"You mean . . . 'Armageddon' has already been?"

"Oh, yes," replied Bugenhagen. "As it will be many times again."

He unstuck the knives and meticulously wrapped them, handing the package to Thorn. Thorn wanted to refuse, but Bugenhagen thrust them upon him, their eyes locking as Thorn rose.

"I have lived long," said Bugenhagen on a trembling voice. "I pray I will not have lived in vain."

Thorn turned away and followed Jennings into the darkness where they had entered. He moved forward in silence, turning back only once to see the distant chamber. It was gone. The lights had been extinguished and it had melted into darkness.

On the streets of Jerusalem, they moved in silence, Thorn gripping the cloth package tightly in his hand. His mood was dark and he walked like an automaton, oblivious to his surroundings, his eyes fixed rigidly ahead. Jennings had tried to question him, but Thorn refused to speak. Now, as they entered the narrowed sidewalk of a construction area, the photographer hurried to keep up behind him, having to shout over jack-hammers as his frustration grew.

"Look! All I want to know is what he said! I've got a right to know, don't I?"

But Thorn continued doggedly forward, his pace quickening as though trying to outdistance him.

"Thorn! I want to know what he said!"

Jennings moved into the street, grabbing Thorn by the arm.

"Hey! I'm not just some bystander! I'm the one who found him."

Thorn stopped, glaring into Jennings* eyes.

"Yes. You are, aren't you? You're the one who's been finding all of this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the one who's been insisting on all of this! You're the one who's been feeding this into my brain. . . !"

"Now wait a minute ..."

"You're the one who took those photographs ..."

"Hold on . . ."

"You're the one who brought me here ..."

"What's going on."

"I don't even know who you are"

He wrested his arm from Jennings' grip and turned; Jennings grabbed him again.