jefflong.yearzero-第1部分

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　To　love；　and　bear；　to　hope　till　Hope　creates
　From　its　own　wreck　the　thing　it　contemplates。
　Percy　Bysshe　Shelley；
　Prometheus　Unbound
　Prologue
　False　Angels
　
　JERUSALEM
　The　wound　was　their　path。
　Nathan　Lee　Swift　sat　strapped　in　the　belly　of　the　cargo　helicopter　with　a　dozen　assorted　archangels；　looking　down　upon　what　little　remained。　The　earthquake　was　visible　mostly　by　what　was　no　longer　visible。　Cities　and　villages　had　simply　vanished　in　puffs　of　dust。　Even　his　ruins　were　gone。　The　map　had　gone　blank。
　The　air　was　hot。　It　was　summer。　There　was　no　horizon。　The　sands　stretched　into　haze。　He　felt　chained　to　the　giant　beside　him；　his　former　professor　David　Ochs。　He　had　not　wanted　to　leave；　now　he　didn't　want　to　e　back。　Not　like　this。
　Due　south　from　the　U。S。　Army　base　in　Turkey；　they　flew　parallel　to　the　rift　system。　Like　an　immense　raft　drifting　from　shore；　Africa　was　shearing　loose　of　Eurasia。　It　was　nothing　new　in　the　larger　scheme　of　things。　Satellite　photos　barely　registered　the　latest　geological　breach。　Even　from　the　helicopter's　scratched　Plexiglas　windows；　the　devastation　appeared　strangely　faint。　The　earth　had　pulled　open　and　sealed　shut。
　Nathan　Lee　searched　for　his　bearings。　Only　a　few　weeks　earlier；　he　had　been　down　there；　somewhere；　sifting　away　at　ancient　Aleppo；　homing　in　on　the　end　of　his　field　research。　Now　the　ruins　were　gone；　and　his　dissertation　with　them。　Only　love…or　lust…had　spared　him　from　the　disaster。　If　not　for　Lydia　Ochs　visiting　his　tent　one　Arabian　night　five　months　ago；　he　might　have　died　in　the　sands。　As　it　was；　the　professor's　younger　sister　had　accidentally　saved　him　with　her　fertile　womb。
　She　had　e　to　Aleppo　with　her　brother；　unannounced；　during　the　winter　break　between　semesters。　The　professor　was　checking　up　on　his　graduate　students；　anchoring　his　grants；　a　day　or　two　here；　then　on　to　the　next；　and　she　was　just　along　for　the　ride。　Nathan　Lee　had　never　seen　her　before　in　his　life。　He　was　a　catch…and…release；　he　figured。　A　desert　conquest。　Her　Himalayan　climber　in　the　sands。　But　then　he'd　gotten　her　letter。　Back　in　Missouri；　she　was　five…months　pregnant。　Now　she　was　ten…days　married；　and　all　his　new　in…laws　were　proclaiming　he'd　been　miraculously　spared。　Miraculous　seemed　a　strong　term　for　what　owed　less　to　the　hand　of　God　than　to　a　Wonderbra；　a　full　moon；　and　a　bottle　of　old　nouveaux　Beaujolais。　But　he　did　not　correct　the　record。
　He　was　still　dazed　by　the　sudden　change。　The　wedding　band　glittered　on　his　brown　fist　like　some　strange　growth。　Twenty…five　seemed　so　young。　He　still　had　his　fortune　to　find；　and　his　name　to　make；　and　the　far　edges　of　the　world　to　see。。。and　see　again。　It　wasn't　that　his　mirror　was　empty。　He　saw　an　earnest　young　man　in　there　with　John　Lennon　spectacles　and　durable　shoulders　and　a　bit　of　hair　on　his　chest。　But　he　lacked　form。　He　felt　as　if　his　molecules　were　still　ing　together。
　Maybe　it　was　a　function　of　working　the　sands　in　near　solitude　for　the　last　two　years。　But　it　seemed　like　his　footprints　were　gone　the　minute　he　left　them；　and　his　shadow　kept　shifting　shape。　There　was　something　about　burying　his　gypsy　parents　on　opposite　sides　of　the　planet…his　mother　in　Kenya；　his　mountaineer　father　in　Kansas；　of　all　places…that　stole　his　sense　of　direction。　He　could　go　anywhere。　He　could　be　anyone。　And　what　he　was　now　was　at　square　one　with　his　doctoral　work；　up　to　his　eyeballs　in　student　loans；　and　with　a　baby　on　the　way。
　He　could　have　resented　the　pregnancy。　But　he　was　an　anthropologist。　He　had　his　superstitions。　And　there　was　no　denying　that　the　child　had　already　saved　him　once。　The　name　was　almost　too　good　to　be　true。　Lydia　had　chosen　it。　Grace。
　〃Tell　me；　my　friends；〃　a　voice　interrupted。　It　was　the　demolitions　engineer　from　Baghdad。　He　wore　a　silver　hard　hat。　〃What　brings　two　American　anthropologists　racing　to　a　disaster　zone？　And　with　body　bags　for　your　only　luggage。　Allow　me　to　guess；　forensic　scientists？〃
　Roped　to　bolts　in　the　floor；　five　cases　of　body　bags　occupied　the　aisle。　There　were　twenty　to　a　case。　The　economy　models　were　white　vinyl　with　no　handles。　They　cost　fourteen　dollars　each。　The　body　bags　had　sped　their　journey　in　unforeseen　ways。　Their　tale　of　a　mission　of　mercy　had　bee　a　small　legend。　Ochs　had　seen　to　that。　Air　freight　for　the　shipment　had　been　waived。　They'd　been　boosted　to　first　class　as　a　courtesy。　TWA　had　delayed　its　Heathrow…Athens　flight　so　the　two　Americans　could　make　the　connection。　A　flight　attendant　with　very　long　legs　had　sat　on　Nathan　Lee's　armrest　for　an　hour。　She　had　always　wanted　to　do　good　works。　They　were　so　brave。　So　humanitarian。It's　what　we　do；　Ochs　had　told　her。
　〃We're　archaeologists；〃　Ochs　answered　the　engineer。　His　shoulders　and　arms　and　Falstaffian　belly　looked　ready　to　burst　his　T…shirt。　It　saidRazorbacks　with　the　size；　XXXL。　People　in　this　part　of　the　world　tended　to　identify　the　giant　with　the　World　Wrestling　Federation。　His　voice　carried　above　the　engine　roar。　〃George　Washington　University。　My　field　is　Biblical　archaeology　up　to　and　including　the　Hadrianic　era。〃
　It　was　one　of　those　lies　that　were　the　truth　by　omission。　Until　last　semester；　Professor　Ochs　had　held　a　distinguished　chair　at　George　Washington。　Then　his　past　had　caught　up　with　him。　One　of　his　boy　toys　had　filed　a　grades…for…sex　lawsuit。　Already　freighted　by　rumors　of　smuggled　artifacts；　Ochs　had　sunk　like　a　rock。　Thus　Jerusalem；　with　his　newly　minted　brother…in…law　for　pany。　Nathan　Lee　kept　thinking　he'd　gotten　over　the　worst　of　his　queasiness。　But　he　hadn't。　He　didn't　belong　here；　not　this　way；　on　this　mission。　It　felt　like　he　was　like　being　pulled　under　by　a　drowning　victim。
　〃Biblical　archaeology。。。。〃　The　engineer　pounced　at　the　clue。　〃Project　Year　Zero；〃　he　said。　〃The　search　for　Jesus　Christ。〃
　Ochs　replied　evenly。　〃We　are　connected。　But　you　misconceive　us。　Year　Zero　is　founded　on　scrupulous　scholarship。　It　grew　out　of　the　discovery　of　the　Dead　Sea　scrolls。　The　Smithsonian　and　Gates　Foundation　missioned　a　detailed　review　and　collection　of　artifacts　and　organic　material　dating　back　two　thousand　years。〃
　〃Organic　material。〃　The　engineer　was　no　fool。
　〃Pollen　samples。　Textiles。　Bone。　Mummified　tissue。〃　Ochs　shrugged。
　〃Bone　and　flesh；〃　said　the　engineer。　〃I　perfectly　understand。〃
　〃Targeting　the　year　zero　was　entirely　arbitrary；　a　sop　to　the　Western　calendar。〃
　〃A　chance　selection；〃　the　engineer　smiled　indulgently。　〃The　Holy　Lands　at　the　beginning　of　the　Christian　era。〃　Like　other　Levantine　Muslims；　he　was　bemused。　The　Crusades　had　never　really　quit。　Now　the　West　fought　with　trowels　and　picks。
　〃The　date　appealed　to　the　public　imagination；〃　said　Ochs。　〃And　to　funding　agencies。　Stripped　of　all　its　controversy　and　superstition；　we　are　simply　gathering　evidence　of　a　place　in　time。　Unfortunately　people's　imagination　ran　off　with　it。　Now　we　have　this　nonsense　about　a　man…hunt　for　the　historical　Jesus。〃
　〃Nonsense？〃　The　engineer　feigned　surprise。
　〃Consider。　True　believers　reject　'the　bones　of　Christ'　as　a　contradiction　in　terms。　If　his　body　rose　into　heaven；　there　can　be　no　remains。　And　nonbelievers　don't　care。〃
　In　fact；　for　all　his　and　Lydia's　sophistication；　the　Ochs　clan　sprang　from　Pentecostal　roots；　snakes；　tongues；　and　all。　Nathan　Lee　hadn't　known　the　depth　of　it。　It　was　no　wonder　an　abortion　had　been　out　of　the　question。　The　Missouri　wedding　had　been　like　something　out　of　the　Civil　War；　all　lace；　black　broadcloth；　and　raw　bones。
　〃Which　are　you　then；　sir？〃　asked　the　engineer。　〃The　believer　who　doesn't　believe；　or　the　nonbeliever　who　doesn't　care？〃
　Ochs　evaded　him。　〃Ask　my　student　here。　He　claims　Jesus　is　a　sausage。〃
　The　engineer's　black　eyebrows　rose　into　the　brim　of　his　hardhat。
　In　Arabic；　Nathan　Lee　said；　〃My　tongue　runs　away　from　me　sometimes。〃
　〃A　sausage；　though！　What　an　image。〃
　〃A　human　skin；〃　Ochs　supplied；　〃stuffed　with　myths　and　prophecy。〃
　The　engineer　enjoyed　that。　〃And　yet　you　dedicate　yourself　to　Year　Zero？〃
　〃The　professor　borrows　me　now　and　then；〃　Nathan　Lee　said。　〃My　doctoral　focus　is　seventh…century　northern　Syria。　I'm　exploring　the　disappearance　of　Roman　families　from　the　so…called　Dead　Cities。　They　were　prosperous　and　deeply　rooted　here。　Their　villas　had　mosaic　floors　and　windows　that　looked　out　onto　the　oases。　Then　suddenly　one　day　they　were　gone。〃
　〃Was　there　a　war？〃　asked　the　engineer。
　〃There　are　no　signs　of　violence；　no　layers　of　ash。〃
　The　engineer　gestured　at　the　landscape　beneath　them。　〃An　earthquake；　perhaps。〃
　〃The　villas　were　left　standing。　Herders　use　them　to　shelter　their　goats。〃
　〃What　happened　then？〃
　〃Some　small　thing；　probably。　A　gap　in　their　rhythm。　Maybe　a　crop　went　wrong。　Or　an　irrigation　canal　ruptured；　or　they　had　a　cold　winter　or　a　dry　summer。　Maybe　insects　came。　Or　a　rat　with　a　flea　with　some　exotic　flu。　Civilizations　are　such　fragile　things。〃
　Someone　across　the　aisle　called　out；　〃Damascus；〃　and　they　all　looked　out　the　windows。　It　was　no　different　from　Halab　and　Hims　and　other　cities　along　the　way。　From　this　height；　except　for　the　outer　ring　of　refugee　camps；　Nathan　Lee　would　have　guessed　the　city　had　been　extinct　for　centuries。　It　resembled　a　thousand　other　Levantinetels；　one　more　gray　pile　of　history　and　dust。〃Allah　i