The man stumbled, heat exhaustion taking its toll on his starved body. Tufts of hair fell into his palm when he clutched his heavily bearded face. He took a few sips of carefully rationed water and wondered if he should give up. It would be easy to get food. All he had to do was to give in, and he could eat a banquet fit for a king. He shook his head. No. He had come to the desert on a mission, and nothing could deter him from his quest.

    The blazing sun increased the feeling of lightheadedness. A figure appeared a few feet in front of him. A mirage? No. This was no heat-induced vision. Before him stood the one adversary he had to outwit, outplay, and outlast to win the prize.

    The adversary pulled a loaf of bread and a skin of wine out of a bag. He took his time, swallowed it down with a swig of wine and wiped his mouth. The man salivated, imagining the taste of the crisp crust between his teeth.

    “I know you’re hungry.” He held out an end of a loaf “Want some?”

    Not saying anything, the man resisted the urge to grab at the offered crust.

    “Of course, you don’t need my help. If you’re as good as they say, you can make a meal out of these stones.”

“Some things are more important than food.”

    Shutting his eyes to the almost-real smell of fresh baked bread, the man said. “Some things are more important than food.” His stomach growled in protest.

    “If you say so. Sure does taste good, though.” Wiping bread crumbs from his clothes, the adversary stuffed the bag of food into a pocket and started down a path. When the man didn’t follow, he cocked his head and called down. “Want to know what the reward will be?”

    He followed, propelling himself forward by the boulders in the path, climbing the steep hill. His adversary waited at the summit, looking refreshed.

    “You’re here. Good. I want to show you something.”

    He turned to the east, to the mysterious lands of China and India, the breeze caressing their faces like exotic spices and colorful fabrics. To the north, to a land of fierce warriors. To the pyramids and wealth of the south. To the west, to the power and might that was Rome.

    “I can give you all this, you know. If you work with me, you’ll go all the way.” The adversary grinned, waited, knowing he had made an offer that was hard to refuse.

    “The standard is clear. I can’t form an alliance with you. My loyalty belongs to only one person.”

    “Whatever.” The adversary waved his hand, and they were clinging to the pinnacle of the temple. The man willed strength into his aching arms to hold on. The adversary loosened a few rocks and laughed as the man’s feet slid on the slippery tiles. Leaning close, he whispered in his ear. “Let go. If you’re really who you say, throw yourself down. You know you won’t be hurt. Angels will catch you before you reach the ground.” The adversary gave him a small shove and laughed.

    Dizziness washed over the man when he looked down. He took a deep breath, then stared straight at his adversary, and answered the latest offer. “Don’t try to manipulate God.”

    “Are you sure?” The adversary waited a moment, but the man didn’t say anything more. “All right. I’ll leave you—for now.” As he disappeared, his voice lingered. “But I’ll be back.”

    The man raised his arms over his head in a gesture of triumph. He had won immunity until the next challenge.

© 2002 Darlene Franklin. Used by permission.

Title: "The Ultimate Survivor"
Author: Darlene Franklin
Publication Date: February 2, 2002

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