2 - Risk
The Fall of Adam Chapter 2
Adam held the dice tightly in his hand. If he rolled a six, the game was his. Below him, the Risk board was awash in green. But the green menace had stretched herself thin. Nevaeh had used every army she had trying to completely wipe out Adam’s Black Plague, both eliminating him from the game and claiming his five unspent Risk cards. She had rolled her final die and struck “six.” But defender wins ties, so in his hand he held his fate.
Around the table everyone was tense. This was for the game. Stefano, Ephrem, and Winslow had no hope for victory. Adam’s turn was next, and if he survived, he would trade in his cards for a force that would conquer the globe. Adam stood up and breathed into his closed fist. For luck.
Any Risk game worth remembering would come down to this moment. The game gets a bad rap for being eternally long. It only goes on forever if there are no true gamers around the table. The title betrays the strategy. At some point, the Risk cards become very valuable. In the beginning, they trade in for 4 armies, then 6, then 8. But they begin jumping by multiples of 5 later on. So a player may get 25 armies on a single turn. It is at this moment the game is played. When a player is newly flush with recruits, they must survey the board for weakness. If there is a player with moderate strength and a handful of Risk cards, they must be taken. You must take the risk to win at Risk. Nevaeh had taken this risk. Adam wasn’t exactly weak, but he had 5 Risk cards for the taking. So she had gone all in. But, the dice don’t always roll your way.
Adam looked straight at Nevaeh, through her glasses into her light brown eyes. “Close. But not today.” He dropped the dice and didn’t even watch as it fell. Inside his heart raced, but he wouldn’t betray that to this crew. No. The Dish Dogs of Culbertson Hall would smell that fear and eat him alive.
He knew it was a six by the sounds around the table. Stefano, his closest friend, yelled out. “Yes!” The others exclaimed the sound of defeat. Their only hope of dethroning the new guy had once again ended in ruin.
Adam walked away from the table and sat down heavy in the winner’s chair. Stefano came over with him, while the rest of the gang stood around the board in disbelief.
“I can’t believe it.” Nevaeh was talking to no one but herself.
Ephrem responded in his thick African accent, “I can not believe it.”
From the couch, Adam laughed. He called over. “Believe it. That is five for five. You just gotta admit, North Park has better gamers than Moody.”
Ephrem looked up. “Pride goeth before the fall, Adam.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.” He cracked a can of Coke open. “Ephrem, where did you say you were from again.”
Nevaeh now walked over. “Don’t answer him. He already knows.”
“I just like to hear you say it.”
Ephrem came over and sat on the couch. “I was born in Djibouti.”
“That’s right. Djibouti. And what is the capital of Djibouti again?”
“Djibouti.”
“So you’re from Djibouti, Djibouti? I guess it prepared you to get your booty kicked!”
Stefano laughed easily at the pun. No one else was amused.
Winslow came over and took the last remaining cushion, the dreaded middle. This was his apartment, and yet he always ended up on the butt-sinking middle cushion. “You keep on talking, tough guy. One night you are gonna lose, and you ain’t never gonna hear the end of it.”
Winslow turned the TV on to let Fox News play in the background. Nevaeh grabbed a seat on the floor between Adam and Stefano.
“Stefano, you read that book yet?”
“I don’t have time for any more reading, man. I am reading an hour a night for just one class. I am buried in books right now. I’ll read it during our next break.”
“Next break? You’re gonna wait till Christmas? That is like 4 months away.”
“Whatcha gonna do?”
Nevaeh broke in. “What book is this?”
“I gave Stefano a book that really helped me in my understanding of the Bible. It’s called Misquoting Jesus, by a guy named Bart Ehrman.”
“I have never heard of him.”
“Really? He went to your school a long time ago. But, he’s not really a Christian anymore, so I can see why.”
“What’s his book about?”
“It’s about how the Bible can’t really be trusted, and how that simple truth freed him from his faith. And honestly, it has freed me from mine as well.”
The other conversations got quiet. They were listening intently to the conversation on the other end of the couch.
“So you don’t believe in anything anymore?”
“I believe in lots of stuff. Just not Jesus.”
Nevaeh looked at Adam for a long time. Her eyes were not hard, but they were focused. “Aren’t you Jewish?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, what do you think about your people’s heritage? About God’s promises to Abraham, and to David?”
“Those are just stories. Like Zeus or The Lochness Monster. It’s just that these stories have been given some kind of special permission to keep believing in. I mean, I eventually let go of the tooth fairy. Why would I hold on to plagues and seas splitting down the middle?”
“Do your parents believe in anything?”
“Yeah. My mom was a big time Jesus freak. She brought all of us to church our whole lives. I only went in high school ‘cause my little sister wanted me to come. I don’t think my Dad wanted to be there either. But he came for us.” Adam took a long drink. He brought the Coke down and opened his eyes, staring straight at her. “I haven’t been to church once here, and it’s been great.”
“But you are going to North Park. That is a Christian college.”
“It’s the only one my dad would pay for. And besides… it’s not like Moody. We don’t have chapels everyday and crazy rules to follow. I don’t have weekly ministries or nothing. I can study Philosophy and stand with the greats.”
Nevaeh looked down.
“What? You trying to think of something to say to change my mind?”
Nevaeh raised her head again. “I don’t believe you.”
“What?” Adam’s confidence faltered. He had spoken with such strength. He expected resistance. No, he wanted resistance. He did not expect this.
“This is not about The Bible, or Jesus, or truth. This is about something else.”
Anger flushed hot in his cheeks. “You don’t believe me.” He repeated. “What. Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes, I guess I am. You are lying to me, you are lying to Stefano, and worst of all, you are lying to yourself.”
Adam punished her with his gaze. He threw all the daggers he knew how to throw, yet she didn’t flinch. She looked right back at him. And in her face he saw warmth. She cared about him. And that somehow made it all worse.
“I have to go.” Adam sprung out of his chair. He looked down the couch. “See you guys.”
Stefano jumped up off the couch and followed his friend out the door. Nevaeh, Winslow, and Ephrem didn’t move.
Adam took the stairs two at a time, in a hurry to leave this place. Stefano called after him. “Wait up.”
Adam ignored the call and descended the three floors with force. But Stefano was smaller and lighter than Adam. He had a body that had been formed through a lifetime of travel soccer leagues. He was a real Italian, born in Rome and a second year student at Moody. His hair was jet black and he pulled off a truly impressive Magnum PI mustache. He was able to outpace his fleeing friend, and grabbed him by the shoulder right before the outside door.
“Adam, hold on a sec.”
“What?” Adam spun on his friend, upset and needing a target.
“Are we okay man?”
Adam closed his eyes and breathed in. Stefano was a good friend, and here he was trying to make the peace. He glanced down and saw Stefano’s hand outstretched, seeking a handshake.
“What’s this?”
“I am extending to you the right hand of fellowship.”
Adam felt a smile trying to escape, but didn’t like the thought of letting Nevaeh off the hook. “Listen man, I like coming over for game night. But I don’t need a bunch of Christians trying to win me back to Jesus. That gets real old real quick.”
Stefano’s smile flattened. There was still joy in it, but there was an unwilling burden. “Adam, that’s not fair man.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because,” Stefano said, “you are the one who is always bringing it up.”
“That’s bull—, man.”
“It’s not, dude. We’re content playing games and having some laughs. You are the one who always brings up God.”
Adam did a quick recall. He played back the last few weeks. He could see it was all true. But the truth didn’t matter now. What mattered now was feeling right. He felt offended. He was the victim. He was being ganged up on. And within himself the battle between what really happened and how he felt was too far gone.
“You know what. You go on upstairs and keep on praying to your imaginary god for me. And I’ll go on and live a life free from guilt or control or fairy tales.”
With that, he turned and burst out the door.