“Now move,” Kimberley ordered Kpakol, prodding him with the AK47.
The four individuals followed a pathway cutting through a dense forest now bordered by dead trees alongside the clearing.
“Why did you tell that woman that soldiers were coming?” Rachel asked Kimberley.
“Just to make them leave us,” Kimberley replied. “I’m hoping some locals will find them and take them to the city.”
“What of us?” Aiden wondered aloud.
“We’ll stop here and do it,” Kimberley said, halting abruptly.
“Do what?” Rachel asked, bumping into Aiden, who had also stopped quickly.
“Find out if he’s the one,” Kimberley said.
“Okay.” Rachel clenched and unclenched her fists. “Let’s do this.”
“Please don’t kill me,” Kpakol urged his captors. “Na money make me enter MEND.”
“We’ll do no such thing,” Kimberley said. “Rachel, touch him.”
The little girl nodded and stepped forward. She held the militant’s right hand and the man froze like a statue. Kimberley noticed his pupils disappear and lowered the semiautomatic rifle. It wasn’t needed anymore.
The MEND militant blinked all of a sudden and looked around him.
“So, what’s your name now?” Aiden wondered.
“Kpakol,” the man said. “My name is Kpakol.”
“And you’re a militant?” Kimberley demanded, raising the AK47 again. She feared the worst.
“No,” Kpakol objected.
“Your name shouldn’t be Kpakol,” Rachel said. “I just touched you.”
The man turned to the little girl. “My name is Kpakol Abdul,” he told her. “I fled the Mine when the Romans came for your father.”
Chapter 22: Kpakol
RACHEL’S heart skipped. “So, you were there that day?” she asked the man whose revelation had jolted her.
“Yes, I was,” Kpakol said. “A day before this incident, I had come across the Roman soldiers plotting their operation in the city. I was a slave spy for the Sicarii Kabbalah and relayed what I had seen to your father’s cult that same day.”
Kimberley drew nearer. “And?”
Kpakol’s face fell. He turned to Rachel. “Your father did not heed my warning like the other members of the cult. He gave his colleagues pieces of the white book to escape with, but decided to remain behind with you, his daughter.”
“Yes, I know that already,” Rachel said. “The Booklords killed my father before the Romans found the Mine. Father made me escape with the book when these demons came the first time. I met his dead body when I returned, and then the Roman soldiers arrived and I had to leave again. I have been traveling forward in time ever since, the Booklords tormenting me and killing everyone I come across, except these two good friends of mine.” She smiled at Kimberley and Aiden.
“Actually we’ve been moving forward in time ever since we met Rachel,” Kimberley added.
“And backward as well,” Aiden reminded her. “How come you haven’t changed your name all these years?” he asked Kpakol.
“I realized that I couldn’t do so the first time I used the white book,” Kpakol said. “Only my surname changes. Kpakol has stuck with me ever since.”
“We need to find the other book,” Rachel told the Nigerian. “Mariah said you’ll help us.”
“You met Mariah?” Kpakol asked the little girl.
“She’s okay,” Aiden allayed.
“She is bad news,” the slave spy said. “I’ll advice you not to listen to her.”
Kimberley frowned. The so-called Sicarii Kabbalah Masada must have had a fair share of internal wrangling. Who was telling the truth? “We’ll still need your help, Kpakol,” she said to the militant-turned-slave.
“But I was just a slave spy,” Kpakol pointed out.
“But Mariah said you knew members of the Inner Circle,” Aiden aired.
“Do not trust that woman,” the Nigerian emphasized. “She was trouble then. I know she could still be trouble now.”
“Why shouldn’t we trust her?” Kimberley finally asked.
“She had a lover back then,” Kpakol said, turning to Rachel. “A member of the Inner Circle and a very close friend to your father, Rachel.”
“Do you have a name?” Aiden demanded.
“I have forgotten his name, but he was a very powerful member of the Sicarii Kabbalah Masada,” Kpakol replied.
Kimberley frowned thoughtfully. “Okay, she said. “How come you’ve survived the Gray Ones all these years?”
“Various ailments,” Kpakol replied, looking himself over. “I’m diabetic this time.”
“Yeah, sure,” Aiden agreed. “The Booklords can’t touch a sick person.”
“You know me, but I have never seen you before,” Rachel began. “Why didn’t I meet you back at the Mine?”
“Of course, I know you,” Kpakol said, scratching his head. “Since I was a spy at the Mine, I always hid my identity.” He looked at Aiden. “And I think I’ve met you before,” he told the boy.
“What of me?” Kimberley asked the African.
“I don’t know you.”
“Oh.”
“Concerning the black book,” Aiden resumed. “The Bookmakers must have passed over some tricks to you?”
Kpakol grinned. “I’ll help you look for the other book, though I must warn you to return the book in your possession.”
Aiden smiled and Kimberley rolled her eyes. “Here we go again,” she said.
“Mariah will never tell you to return the book to the Gray Ones,” Kpakol noted. “This is the only safe option.”
“Why do you say that?” Rachel demanded.
“Your father would have wanted that,” Kpakol said.
“Not true,” the little girl said. “Father would have never wanted me to return the book to those demons.”
Kpakol started saying something and stopped himself. “Okay,” he rather said. “I promised your father that I will help you, Rachel. He was a good man and I will do everything in my power to help now that you’ve found me.”
Kimberley wondered if she’d been wrong about the Gray Ones. Kpakol’s assertions were not helping her state of mind. “Is it true that Shurabi cannot save anybody killed by the Gray Ones?” she asked.
Kpakol sighed. “Mariah told you that?”
Kimberley nodded.
“That is true, but I think it’s also possible that the Gray Ones could save their victims as they claim without the help of Shurabi.” The Nigerian turned to Rachel. “Your father told me this, though I never witnessed this miraculous occurrence back at the Mine.”
“Is it also true that the black book will find us if we did not look for it?” Aiden asked. “Mariah said so.”
“The Gray Ones will never wait for that to happen before they retrieve the white book, boy,” Kpakol replied. “So that approach will not help you in the long run.”
“What will help us?” Rachel demanded.
“Any Bookmaker seeking help must discover and read out the hidden Hebrew writings on the books’ pages,” Kpakol said. “Then and only then will the black book’s position in time and space, as well as a means of getting to this reality, be revealed to that Bookmaker.”
“But why can’t the Bookmakers read the hidden Hebrew writings on the book’s pages even though Mariah said it was visible to them back at the Mine?” Aiden wondered.
“Remember it is only some of the Hebrew words that were visible to the Bookmakers through Shurabi,” Rachel told him. “Mariah also said that.” She gave Aiden the book. “Can you see any of the writings?”
Aiden turned blue. “Not now, Rachel,” he stammered. “Besides, I can’t see with this light. It will soon be dark.”
The setting Sun caught everyone’s attention. The chirping insects became louder.
“It’s getting late,” Rachel agreed. “We must be going, Kim.”
“Now I remember there’s a house somewhere around he
re,” Kpakol said. “Our leaders use it whenever they’re in the vicinity.” He looked down at the rough pathway, deep in thought.
“You say you’ve met me before,” Aiden began. “I don’t think I’ve ever left Portwood in my life.”
“Yet I still think I’ve seen you before,” Kpakol said.
“Maybe you saw my great grand father?” Aiden wondered aloud.
“Good,” Kpakol said, ignoring him. “Here’s the path to the house.”
“Any one at home?” Rachel wanted to know.
“No need for that,” the militant-turned-slave-spy said. “We only guard the house when people like Mr. Bruno Gbomoh decide to spend the night.”
“Maybe Aiden would see the hidden writings on the book when we get to the house and some light,” Rachel enthused.
“Maybe Rachel would see the hidden writings on the book when we get to the house and some light,” Aiden enthused.
“Maybe you two should shut up now,” Kimberley said.
“There’s the house,” Kpakol announced, pointing ahead at a gated wall surrounded by shrubs. The environment looked like a hastily done job and the wall protecting the bungalow had spaces in-between its bricks.
Pushing open the creaky gate, Kpakol ushered his new friends into a compound looking more like a junkyard.
“What’s with the drums and black goo?” Aiden asked, threading carefully lest he misstepped and landed on the thick black oil all over the place.
“Illegal refinery,” Kpakol said. “We make some money when we sell petroleum from here.”
“You guys pollute your land as well?” a surprised Kimberley asked. “Is it not enough that you’re fighting against oil pollution from foreign companies that don’t care about your land?”
“Sorry about that,” Kpakol said. “But remember we also have to survive in this jungle.” He looked for the door keys behind a wooden stool and opened the front door.
Kimberley followed the slave spy into what appeared to be a living room. The cozy interior had electricity.
“Lights,” Rachel said as she entered the room with Aiden. “We can check the book now.”
Aiden moved to open the white book.
“I was wrong about the Gray Ones,” Kimberley said.
“What do you mean?” Rachel asked her.
“We need to give them back the book, Rachel,” Kimberley said.
Aiden could not believe his ears. He turned to Kpakol, who just stood there saying nothing.
“She’s right,” the Nigerian finally said. “That is the only way to end this.”
“She’s wrong,” Rachel objected. “And we’re not returning the book.”
“No, we’re doing no such thing, Kim,” Aiden said rather sternly. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Kimberley replied. “I just realized we’ve been wrong all this time.”
“How?” Rachel cried. “My father is dead and I’ve got to finish what he started.”
“So is Jim and…and many others I don’t even know their names,” Kimberley said. “They never deserved any of this and…and I’m going to bring them back if ever there’s such a chance.”
“The Gray Ones cannot even bring back their dead,” Aiden thought out loud. “How then are they going to bring back Jim and the other people they killed?”
Kpakol bent forward. “Who’s Jim?”
“None of your business!” Kimberley snapped at him. She brandished his AK47 semiautomatic and he stepped away from her with the two kids. “Aiden, hand over the book.”
“Aiden, don’t,” Rachel said. “I don’t think she’s herself. Something’s controlling her.”
“We should all calm down now,” Kpakol tried. “We won’t succeed if we don’t work together.”
“Watch me,” Kimberley snapped. She pointed the gun at Aiden and he gave her the white book. Blunt cold shot up her arm and paralyzed her. The book’s magic dome reappeared, engulfing her alone.“Holy!” she let out before her vocal muscles lost power.
“What is that?” Kpakol exclaimed, staring at the white book’s cold protective hemisphere.
“You haven’t seen that before?” Aiden asked him. “You haven’t seen the dome before?”
“What’s the dome?” the baffled Nigerian demanded.
“It’s the structure you now see before you,” Rachel explained. “It is formed by the Ice of Masada to protect the book.”
Kpakol lost her. “The Ice of Masada?”
“You don’t know about that?” Aiden asked the man. “What then do you know?”
“Yahweh gave us the Ice and Fire of Masada to protect the books, Kpakol,” Rachel explained. “My father and his friends must have kept you in the dark about this.”
“The Fire of Masada protects the black book?” Kpakol asked her. “No wonder.”
“No wonder what?”
“Never mind,” the African said. “I was just wondering,” he added. “If the books have protection, that must mean only one thing.”
“That we shouldn’t give them back?” Aiden asked. “Obviously.”
Rachel nodded and turned to look at the frozen Kimberley. “Pity you forgot that only a Bookbearer can hand over the book to the Booklords,” she reminded the stone-cold woman. “Your plan has already failed due to this.”
Kpakol frowned. “I thought you guys were friends?” he pointed out.
“Whoever wants to sieze the book from us becomes an enemy and the Ice of Masada will treat him or her as one, no matter who he or she is to the Bookbearer,” Rachel explained.
“You’ve done your homework,” Kpakol commended.
The little girl glared at him.
“What did I do?” he asked her.
Kimberley could not talk. The cold had frozen all her muscles and she just stood there like a statue, clenching her teeth in the intense chill that had engulfed her inside the book’s protective hemisphere.
“She’s suffering,” Rachel realized all of a sudden. “How do we save her?”
A puzzled Kpakol turned to Aiden, who looked up, rolling his eyes.
“I think she’s safer than us right now,” the boy said.
“What do you mean by that?” Kpakol asked him.
“She’s in the protective dome and we’re not?” Aiden pointed out.
“And so what?”
“It’s getting cold again,” the boy explained to the slave spy.
“And?”
“That means the book is trying to warn us about unearthly interference,” Rachel said.
Aiden looked at his arm and turned to the others in alarm. “The ankh Kim drew on my arm has faded!” he announced. “The sharpie’s ink didn’t last one minute!”
Rachel’s face lost color. She looked at her arm and turned white. “They’re coming back, and we don’t have protection this time?”
“Who’s coming back?” Kpakol asked her. “The Gray Ones?”
The magic dome surrounding Kimberley and the book glowed blue. The ceiling made squeaky sounds before the bungalow’s roof blew off and a black-garbed Carl Bain made his entry with his infernal masters.
“Yes,” Aiden cried. “The Gray Ones!”
“What is happening?” a freaked-out Kpakol demanded.
Carl Bain landed before the three individuals awestruck by the power he exuded as he floated in through the gapping hole once covered by the roof. “Finally, the end is here!” he snarled at them.
Aiden and Rachel stepped back in fear, pulling Kpakol with them.
The sudden presence of the man in black surrounded by howling forms had shocked the Nigerian into stupefied silence and for a moment, he appeared clueless as to what next to do.
Carl Bain laughed at the defensive action the three before him just took to protect themselves from him. The African with the children he had never seen before, but he knew exactly what to do to this man. “Your end is here!” he told Kpakol, his hands outstretched. Nothing happened and he appeared before the Nigerian to punch the man
on the chest, pushing the fellow backward with the force.
Kpakol crashed into a cupboard that fell on him. He remained motionless.
Carl Bain could not understand the problem with this new character. Even his demon masters, who had planned to kill this man, now avoided the African at all cost, rather flocking to the dome and the one individual inside it.
Senselessly, the Gray Ones blocked off the blue glow emanating from the white book’s hemispheric protection by stacking up on the dome. Repeated incursions into this structure and the subsequent punishment of freezing off as demonic ash ensued.
“Okay, he’s sick,” the American thug understood after his infernal masters conveyed this information to him. “I get it. I should ignore him.”
The human minion turned to Aiden and Rachel cowering at a corner of the sitting room.
“No, please don’t kill us,” a terrified Aiden exclaimed, holding Rachel with both hands.
“You will not succeed,” Rachel cried underneath the boy.
“You should be begging for your life like your friend, girl,” Carl Bain snapped. He stretched out his hands and watched with satisfaction as a powerful force slammed into the two kids, pushing them high up to the edge of the wall, before allowing their bodies to crash to the floor, visibly dead.
“Oh well, forget it,” he said and turned to the immobile woman holding up the white book in the bluish dome now the gregarious focus of his demonic masters ever since they arrived. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Kimberley had tears in her eyes. She had placed Aiden and Rachel in harm’s way by acting irrationally.
“Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” her nemesis growled outside the dome, rubbing his fists. “Not to worry, I’ll help you open your mouth.”
Carl Bain slammed his fists into the magical dome. Repeatedly, while ignoring the ongoing battle between the Booklords and the weakened Ice of Masada defending the revered book. He did this until his hands became bloody and he heard the expected crack.
Still, he pummeled on. A second crack encouraged him. A third crack strengthened his resolve to smash the infernal dome at all cost. A fourth crack could only mean the beginning of the end of all his enemies.
The White Book Page 28