Seventh Dimension - The King - Book 2, A Young Adult Fantasy Read Online Free PDF Page B

served as a dining hall. Men
and women were eating from old ceramic plates with their hands. Why
weren’t they using utensils—ugh, so unsanitary to eat with one’s
hands.
    An attendant at the long counter greeted me. “Can I
help you?”
    I started to
dig into my pocket for my wallet and then realized I wasn’t wearing
my jeans. I hated to appear stupid. “I need a room tonight, but I
seem to have lost my money.” I pretended to check my
cloak.
    “I’m sorry,” the man said with genuine concern.
“Where did you last have it?”
    I shook my head.
    The man took pity on me. “What’s your name?”
    “Daniel, son of
Aviv.”
    The clerk
retrieved a document from the shelf and glanced through it. He
raised his eyebrow. “We have you booked for tonight, Daniel, son of
Aviv. Your room has been prepaid.”
    “Prepaid? By who?”
    “It says benefactor.”
    I stared at the
clerk. Maybe he was making up a story so as not to embarrass
me.
    “Here,” the clerk said. “Can you sign in and I will
give you your key.”
    I examined the
writing. The document showed what the clerk said, “Paid in full by
benefactor.” Why did the paper feel like parchment made from animal
skins? I signed the paper mystified.
    The clerk
handed me a large wooden key—another antique.
    “Your room is
through the door, the third on the right.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “And this is just for
tonight?”
    “Yes, sir. One night.”
    I’d worry about tomorrow night later.
    I searched for
my room. Maybe I’d even lie down.
    I rattled the
key in the door and found the room to be clean but earthen,
containing just the bare necessities. A bed was in one corner
layered with heavy coarse blankets. A small wooden table with an
oil lamp and chair occupied the other corner. The lamp reminded me
of those I’d seen in museums or shops where tourists
frequented.
    I glanced
around. Where was the bathroom? Did I have to share one with other
people? Well, it was free, so I couldn’t complain.
    I sat on the
bed, questioning my sanity. Had I become like the patients in the
treatment center? They lived in their own worlds of reality. I
shook my head. No. I wasn’t dreaming—somebody brought me here. If
this were my creation from insanity, I wouldn’t have invented this
kind of world. I’d have gone to Nepal and hiked the Himalayan
Mountains.
    Maybe I was a
prisoner and my captors wanted information from me. The Aramaic was
a different dialect, at least not anything I’d heard spoken in
Syria.
    I tried to
remember what happened before I arrived. I remembered going into
the hallway to retrieve the cots and seeing a strange
light.
    A weird thought
hit me. I stood and checked the door to make sure no one had locked
me in from the outside. Then I got down on my hands and knees and
examined the floor—even underneath my bed, looking for a camera or
eavesdropping equipment. I studied the walls—nothing but illegible
graffiti.
    I noticed an
opening underneath the table. I checked inside the hole and saw a
scroll. I pulled it out and unrolled it. The document was a map of
Israel, though many names were different. I recognized some of the
towns, like Jerusalem. I sat on the floor and studied it. The date
on the map was 3790. I assumed this was using the Hebrew
calendar.
    If it was the
year 5775 using the Hebrew calendar, that meant I was back in time
two thousand years. That couldn’t be—or could it? I did a quick
math computation. Converted into the Gregorian calendar from the
Hebrew calendar, that meant it was about 30 C.E.
    I threw the map
on the floor disgusted—or perhaps more petrified than disgusted.
How did I get here? No! This was insane. Besides, I’d rather be a
prisoner of war than be here. Then the military would search for
me. I knew what happened in Israel at that time—with the Roman
occupation and an itinerant rabbi who claimed to be the Messiah. I
didn’t want to be here.
    I sat on the
floor, shaking. “Why God, why here, why now?