For hours I've seen them walking back and forth from their homes to the sheep fields. Thousands of them. They're taking only lambs back with them. There's been no talk of this being a holy day, and there are no celebrations. It's eerily quiet. That makes it even more strange. There's so much activity, but hardly any of them are speaking. They don't hide what they're doing. It's not sneaky. Just hushed.
The lambs are being killed, and they're using the blood as some sort of coating on their doorways. I don't know what it means, but it worries me. This is something new.
I've begun to wonder if Moses isn't crazy after all. Every time he has said His God will bring a plague, a plague comes. Our priests and priestesses can't seem to stop them. I know Moses went to see Ramses again today, and now this. I don't know what it means, but I'm not so sure I think they're wrong.
There is a bucket of lamb's blood left in the road. It was left by a Hebrew who has retreated into his home. Many of them have shut themselves in and not come back out. I take the bucket when no one is looking and return to my own home.
No one is watching. They are all too sick or afraid from these plagues. I coat my doorway with the lamb's blood and go inside. I shut the door tight and greet my wife. She has just put the children in bed. I tell her about the Hebrew activity and what I have done. She tells me I have made a good choice. This is not the first time she has expressed interest in the Hebrews and their faith.
We eat our dinner and go to sleep.
I am awoken in the eat morning by screams. Our neighbors are singing death cries. I am not surprised. They have young children and these plagues have been hard on the young. But then I hear more and more.
I leave my home to find out the trouble. All around, my neighbors are mourning death. Young and old. Rich and poor. Only males. It doesn't take long for me to realize it is only the oldest sons who have died. I have a son.
I run back as fast as my legs can take me. I cannot keep my tears back. My boy. My poor boy. Is he gone, too?
I burst through my door and cry out. All of my children are sitting with their mother. All of them. They are crying, frightened by the noise of death. But they live. All three of my boys live.
My tears of fear turn to tears of joy. I hug my family tightly and laugh. I cannot help it. I am too relieved. My wife asks me what has happened and I tell her what I have seen. She sends me to see after the Hebrews.
I am on my feet once again, running to the slaves. And there is no mourning.
There is only silence.
I cannot know for sure, so I go to a home where I know the leaders meet. I knock. An Elder answers. He is expecting another face. He is expecting Moses. I tell him that my son lives when a of my neighbors have lost theirs. He lets me in and I tell him what I saw last night and what I did.
As I speak, Moses comes. Ramses has released the slaves. They are leaving for their promised land. The Elders send runners to spread the word. All will gather within the hour and they will leave. The room is empty but for me, Moses, and two Elders. I sit silently, unsure what I should do. It is Moses who breaks the silence.
"Bring your family. Come, follow the Lord."
I return to my wife. We gather what we can carry. It is not much. But I have put my faith in the Hebrew God, and He will protect us.
We join the Hebrews.
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