A woman’s scream tore Rankin’s attention from the magazine he’d been reading. In the next instant, a muffled explosion erupted somewhere outside the aircraft.
“They’re shooting at us!” a man shouted.
The Boeing 747 tilted into a gut-wrenching dive. Instantly Rankin Johnson’s trip to Israel as an exchange student became a bedlam of shrieking, shouting, terrified passengers.
“What’s happening? Who’s shooting?” Rankin yelled into the chaos.
Was it a fighter jet? Or maybe missiles shooting up from ground launchers? From where he sat in one of the middle seats, Rankin couldn’t see whatever the passengers at the windows were screaming about.
Another explosion—much louder—sent a violent shudder throughout the jetliner.
“We’re going to die!” the grandmother beside Rankin wailed.
He still didn’t know what was happening, but the high schooler didn’t doubt she was right.
Yellow oxygen masks dropped from the overhead bins. Just as Rankin reached for his, a final deafening explosion assaulted his ears.
Suddenly, the jetliner was gone!
Rankin glimpsed only blue sky and clouds as his body hurtled through icy air. His lungs gasped for breath.
In sheer terror the teen shut his eyes and uttered a final prayer: “God! I’m yours!”
Nowhere, Everywhere
When Rankin opened his eyes, his heart was still pounding, but he had no idea where he was. Instead of plummeting to a horrible death, he found himself surrounded by … what?
Neither standing nor sitting, the teen seemed to be suspended in white haze. Absolute peace had replaced the screams, explosions and rushing wind of the previous seconds.
“Am I dead?” he wondered aloud.
“To the contrary. You have never been more alive.”
Through the haze a man drew closer. The face reminded Rankin of an elf, and the man’s white-clothed torso faded into nothingness below the waist. Rankin guessed what he must be.
“That is right, Rankin. I am an angel. Call me Fabriel.”
Rankin’s heart still thumped rapidly, but with a new kind of fear. “But … you said I’m not dead. Where am I?”
Fabriel smiled. “Difficult to explain. For the moment you are everywhere, but nowhere. You are every time, but no time.”
“Huh?”
The angel’s smile widened. “Perhaps it will help to think of yourself as in a bubble. The physical universe did not come about all by itself. It was created—”
“By God. Yes, I know. I’ve accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior.”
“Precisely. That is partly why you have been chosen. But have you ever considered that time itself is not a normal condition? Our Lord created time for the convenience of creation. Here, you and I occupy a bubble in the fabric of your reality.”
His heart slowing slightly, Rankin’s next questions were more astute. “What’s this all about? Does everyone who dies go through one of these ‘bubbles’?”
“No. And I repeat—you are not dead. This bubble was necessary to preserve your natural body from death. Now it protects you as you transit from your previous existence into another. You are a chosen vessel, Rankin. You are to become the next Fithian. You will bear witness to the Savior in another galaxy, or more precisely, in another dimension.”
Rankin’s next reaction was swift and automatic. Moving his right hand to his left, he pinched the back of his hand—hard! But he did not wake up. It was no dream.
A Divine Calling
Later, after the angel had departed, Rankin struggled to recall how long Fabriel had talked to him about the teen’s upcoming mission. Rankin recalled specific portions of the conversation, important bits of information. But sometimes the answers were so far removed from life on earth that he could only partially fathom their meaning. Had the discussion lasted for minutes, or for days?
“What’s a Fithian?” Rankin recalled asking.
“Fithian is both a name and a title. It signifies a chosen messenger of the Light. Not simply as an evangelist from one city to another, but from one dimension to another. From now on, you are no longer Rankin Johnson. I name you Rankin Fithian.”
“Another dimension?” Rankin had repeated.
“Your world, your universe from the farthest star in one direction to the farthest star in the opposite direction comprises only part of God’s creation. It is one facet of reality or one dimension. But there is another reality, an intersecting dimension. That is where I am taking you.”
“Why me?” the teen had asked.
“For multiple reasons. You have a sense of adventure. Your faith in the Savior is strong. You have won souls for the Kingdom. Also, because your parents are already with the Lord, you will grieve leaving earth less than another. Finally, because the aircraft you were in was destroyed, your departure will not be noticed.”
“Destroyed?”
“No survivors. Except you.”
Now Rankin tried to remember all that Fabriel had said about the “other dimension,” the place Rankin was being taken to even now.
“In your dimension, sin entered soon after the Creation. The first man and woman fell into sin, affecting every descendant. However, in the intersecting dimension it was not so. Men and women lived in joyful harmony with God—until recent times. Sin entered. Some turned from God to their own misery. Spiritual death, too, has entered.”
That was how Rankin learned the mission of a Fithian. The Son of God would not need to suffer and die a second time for the alternate dimension. His one death on the Cross covered all sin. A messenger who knew the Gospel was needed to explain the Way to ones who were dying. …
The Planet Zemna
In the middle of Rankin’s musings something solid bumped against his heels. Like a soap bubble popping, the protective sphere vanished. The teen found himself standing in a grassy, bowl-shaped depression in the ground. Overhead stretched a pale-purple sky.
“You’ve arrived. This is the planet Zemna.”
Rankin turned to find Fabriel standing at his side, this time in a completely visible body.
The angel pointed up one of the surrounding slopes. “Walk that way. You will find some who need to learn of the Savior.”
Rankin swallowed. “How will I talk to them? Don’t tell me people on Zemna speak English?”
“No. They speak the original tongue your own planet once spoke. Here, no Tower of Babel occurred to confuse the languages. We are now speaking that language too, although you are unaware of the change.”
Rankin pulled the New Testament from his pocket and flipped it open. “But this is in English. I still understand it.”
The hint of a smile appeared on Fabriel’s face. “True, your brain can still comprehend the written Word in English. But your thought and speech patterns are now in First Tongue. Trust me.”
The angel’s body began rising into the air, and he pointed once more. “That way, Rankin.”
“Wait! I still don’t totally get it. What do I do?”
“The same as on Earth. Share your faith. Point souls to the Savior.”
A final question nagged at Rankin’s mind. Was this his last chance to ask it? “You called me ‘the next Fithian.’ What happened to the last Fithian?”
Fabriel’s body was becoming transparent as quickly as he was rising. But his reply sounded out clearly: “He was killed.”
“What do you mean, killed?” Rankin shouted. But the pastel purple sky remained silent.
For a long while Rankin stood rooted to the spot. Then, as if rousing from a dream, he started up the slope. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I don’t even get an R2D2 for company.”
When he reached the rim of the depression, Rankin gasped. In the distance stood the blackened remains of a town. Here and there, wisps of smoke curled upward. Was he in a war zone?
Summoning his courage, Rankin began trotting. “God, help me to know what to do.”
When he entered the smoking outskirts, Rankin found no dead bodies as he dreaded. The style of architecture was different from anything he had seen on Earth.
“No cars? No trucks? How do these people get around?”
Suddenly a whining sound broke out overhead, growing louder and more menacing by the second.
“Run!” a voice seemed to blurt inside Rankin’s head.
No sooner had he dashed across the street than a series of high-pitched explosions shattered the silence behind him. Adrenaline kicked in, and Rankin bolted over a scorched plaza, down a narrow walkway and into the protection of one of the few buildings standing intact.
Outside he heard a steady droning, as if an enormous dragonfly was somewhere out there. Not wanting whatever it was to find him before he knew what it was, he pressed deeper into the building.
Making Contact!
“This is so freaky,” the teen muttered to himself. “Like being swallowed by a sci-fi flick.”
Suddenly, a command rang out: “Halt, or I’ll vaporize you!”
Rankin’s heart lurched, but his body froze as commanded. Slowly he shifted his gaze to find the source of the voice. What he saw was a man, apparently wounded, crouching behind some kind of console. In his hand was a device the teen didn’t recognize.
The man’s skin was darker than Rankin’s, and his eyes appeared slightly Asian, and he was definitely human. As if weary, he lowered the weapon. “I thought you were one of them. Now I see you’re not—even though I’ve never seen garments like those before.”
Rankin glanced from his blue jeans to the man’s clothing, which resembled an orange karate outfit.
“You thought I was one of what?” Rankin asked.
“One of them.” The man slumped, and Rankin saw behind him a woman on the floor. She was beautiful, but unmoving.
“Is she … ”
“Not yet. We’re both dying. The sickness is on us. Flee; save yourself.”
The word save sparked something inside of Rankin. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew something these people needed.
“Listen, I must tell you a story. It’s important to the saving of your souls.”
“Our souls are damned,” the man nearly sobbed. “We turned from the Creator. The heavens are closed to us now.”
“No! There is hope. You must listen!”
As Rankin talked, he reached toward the man for emphasis. One glimpse of Rankin’s palm caused the man’s eyes to widen. “The Intersection of All Things! You … you are a Fithian!”
Confused, Rankin twisted his hand to view his own palm. There he found something new—not a scar, but a dark reddish mark. It formed a circular cross. Was that the Intersection of All Things?
The woman’s eyes fluttered open. She stared at Rankin in amazement.
“Yes, I’m a Fithian. Now listen!”
Step by step Rankin explained how God had sent His Son to sinful mankind to save them from their sin. About how they rejected and crucified Him. About how He rose again and conquered death so that all who believe on Him might gain new life. Rankin didn’t explain about Romans or Jews or even where those events happened. Just that they did happen.
Despite obvious pain, the man and woman hung on Rankin’s every word.
“Do you believe?” Rankin finally asked.
“Praise the Creator, I believe!” the man said.
“I believe!” the woman echoed.
“Then let’s seal your belief in prayer to the Creator,” Rankin suggested.
The couple struggled to a kneeling position and lifted their countenances to the ceiling, as if basking in unseen radiance. Instead of bowing his head, Rankin followed their example. Each one prayed in turn.
“So be it,” the man concluded moments later. But the exertion proved too much. Both he and woman collapsed onto the floor.
“Thank you, Fithian,” the woman whispered. “We can depart in peace.”
With a final effort, the two embraced. Moments later, the sound of their breathing stopped. They moved no more.
Rankin bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord, for getting me here in time.” When he reopened his eyes, it was just in time to see a yellow glow enveloping the prone figures. Then the bodies winked out of existence.
“Boy, do I have a lot to learn,” Rankin told himself. “Starting with, what does a Fithian do now?” 
TO BE CONTINUED …
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