The First

by Glen Kenner

  -Well, I have a way with animals.

  Zain and Alvaro laugh. Sarah doesn’t. The boy is just staring at me with his mouth open.

  Alvaro starts up again and Zain continues translating.

  -Three men came out of the entrance and dragged the hyenas’ bodies away. The crowd noticed that they left your sword in the body of the first hyena you killed and didn’t give it back. You looked up at the Emperor and he looked away and sat down. So now the crowd was screaming at the Emperor. I had never witnessed such a display. So the Emperor said something to one of his guards and the man took his own sword from its scabbard and threw it into the arena. You slowly walked over to it, looked at the Emperor, and kicked dirt onto the sword and walked away. The crowd erupted! How they could continue to get louder and louder, I didn’t know. But they did. Everyone was watching you as you walked back to the center of the arena but I watched the Emperor. He looked extremely angry.

  -Good. Fuck him.

  Zain and Alvaro laugh.

  -A lion was then led out. A big male. I could see his ribs from where I sat. Two guards had him on a chain and used long metal spears to unhook the chain before backing away into the dark tunnel. The lion roared a bit. Sniffed the air. Walked around. Looked at the crowd. And sat down. The crowd laughed like crazy. Four guards came out with swords and shields and one pulled out a whip and snapped the starving beast on the back. The lion jumped up, looked back at them, looked at you and charged.

  -Lucky me.

  -Unlucky lion. He leapt at you straight-on and you put your left arm out, high, with your forearm to the lion. It was like a sacrifice, and the lion’s jaws clamped down on it. Blood immediately spurted onto the dirt. The lion’s back feet were solidly on the ground and he started pulling backwards, forcing you to dig in with your own feet. I think the lion went into a crazed frenzy from the taste of your blood. It seemed impossible that he didn’t just rip your arm from your body. But then you pulled back your right foot and kicked the lion in the stomach. Hard and swift. The crowd went silent again. I think we were all completely unsure what would happen. But the lion didn’t seem to notice that you had kicked him. He continued to try to pull you back and down. This was a fully grown lion! But you kicked again. And again. Then there was blood. Blood from the lion. A lot of dark blood pouring onto the dirt. You had kicked a hole in the lion’s gut. The lion let go of you but didn’t retreat. I’m sure he was going to attack again despite the injury. But you were one step ahead, it seems. You jumped to the side of the animal, grabbed his mane, and swung yourself on top of him like you would a wild horse. He reared back and threw himself on his side, pinning you down under his considerable weight. But you wrapped one arm around his neck and lodged your other forearm against the back of his neck and you squeezed. He kicked and kicked. And howled. But it lasted less than a minute. You had crushed his windpipe, like the hyenas, and the lion went limp. This time the crowd was silent for a full five seconds, I think just trying to believe what they had seen. And then they erupted again. Screaming your name, stomping their feet on the stone seats. I remember realizing that I was hoarse from screaming with the crowd and I looked for the wine merchants. I never saw them. I think they too were cheering with the crowd. Anyway, the Emperor did something unexpected then.

  Oh shit. Now I remember what happened. What I did. Fuck fuck fuck.

  -Hey, let’s call it a night. I’m tired. I’m sure Sarah is. The boy-

  Sarah just laughs and pats my knee.

  -I’m perfectly fine. I think the jet lag has me amped up. I’ll probably crash hard but I want to hear the rest of this. What did the Emperor do?

  -No, it’s.. Uh, it’s not important what anyone did. And the Emperor was a serious asshole. Really. It’s late.

  I stand up and stretch and then head for the door.

  -Where should we sleep?

  Alvaro starts speaking again, that fucker, and Zain continues to translate.

  -The Emperor says something to his soldiers behind his hand. Then someone tells his trumpeters to call out, and they do. Big long blasts from the horns. Then one of his guards walks away from the Emperor’s box and disappears down the stairs leading into the bowels of the amphitheater. The Emperor stands up and addresses the crowd. Yells out at the crowd, actually. He says enough with the death. It’s time for comedy. Just then his guard appears from the dark entrance into the arena. He has his sword and a shield and a helmet on. He takes off the helmet and the crowd makes a collective gasp. And then cheering and clapping. It’s Naram-sin. I know him, of course. He had come to share histories and told me about his two meetings with John and the empty village later. But this was centuries and centuries later. I didn’t know Naram-sin was working for the current Roman emperor. But everything suddenly made sense. John here, Brutus then, and Naram-sin were best of friends. They were traveling together and now working as bodyguards. And they sometimes performed mock battles for the entertainment of the Emperor and his family and, now, for the crowd. Soldiers often did this. It was a comedy routine and was very popular. So Naram-sin comes out and he and you, John, kick dirt on each other. And you point at each other and make insults. The crowd loves it.

  Like before, the boy Joram jumps up and he comes around to Sarah and pretends to kick dirt on her. She jumps up and does the same. Alvaro and Zain are laughing with their heads thrown back. The boy starts pointing at Sarah and then at his feet. He takes off his shoe and pretends to throw it at her. Sarah flips him off and everyone bursts into laughter. The boy starts flipping Sarah off with both hands. Zain and Alvaro are crying from laughing so hard. I realize I have a huge grin on my face but then I remember the story, what happened next back in Leptis Magna. I stop smiling.

  Alvaro starts again and Zain starts translating, loudly at first to get everyone’s attention. Sarah and the boy sit back down on their cushions.

  -Naram-sin takes out his sword. He pretends to jab at John, missing him by a foot each time. To John’s left and then his right and so on. You could tell it was choreographed and exaggerated and that made it that much funnier. Naram-sin would back up and run at John with his sword held out in front of him. John would jump out of the way and when the other man realized John wasn’t there, John would come up behind him and kick him in the… the…

  Joram yells out, ass!

  The boy really does speak good English.

  -Yes. The ass. As I said, it was choreographed and the crowd loved it. At one point, Naram-sin picked up John and lifted him above his head and threw him ten feet. The crowd was astonished. John rolled and jumped right up. They did a few things like that. And then, well, Naram-sin did something else.

  Alvaro pauses and looks at me. He starts again and Zain asks me if I think what Naram-sin did next was on purpose?

  -Yes. I know it was.

  Alvaro says hmmm, as if he’s not sure.

  -Opinion was divided in the stands. At any rate, Naram-sin had tossed John away and then pulled out his sword and leapt on him. He had done it before, just a minute before, but instead of burying his sword in the dirt next to John, he buried the sword into John’s belly.

  Alvaro looks at me with this eyebrows knitted together.

  -Belly or was it your side?

  -Does it matter?

  -Hmmm. Well, he buried his sword into John’s belly or side and it was real. Blood appeared on John’s tunic and the sword had obviously gone into John and right through into the dirt. John reached out but didn’t grab onto anything. He kicked though and caught Naram-sin in the… the…

  -Balls!

  The boy knows his vocabulary.

  -Yes. The balls.

  Alvaro is holding up his hands like he’s cupping the world’s largest set of testicles. He has a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

  -Naram-sin fell forward just a bit. Apparently that wasn’t choreographed either. He held onto the sword and began to twist it, moving the handle in as big a circle as he could. John cried out and everyone heard it. The crowd
was completely silent. As if we in the crowd didn’t have enough surprises, Naram-sin stood up, with the sword still in John’s belly, looked at the Emperor, which caused the entire amphitheater to look at the Emperor, who then put out his arm, made a fist, and gave the sign. Thumb up. Kill him. Kill Brutus.

  Alvaro pauses again. Fuck if everyone doesn’t think they are the most dramatic storyteller.

  -The crowd erupts! They’re shouting. Cursing. They throw half-eaten fruit at the Emperor. Some threw their sandals. Throwing anything at the Emperor was a death sentence. I was eager to get out of there before more soldiers were called in to arrest everyone and start the beheading. But before I could turn to run, John pulled the sword, with his hands on the blade, out of his belly. His face was twisted in pain. The crowd saw this happen. The Emperor saw it happen. Everyone saw it happen but Naram-sin. In the couple of seconds it took Naram-sin to realize something was wrong and then turn and look down at John, John had lowered the sword so that it lay between his outstretched legs. Then he brought it up - so swiftly it was a blur - right between Naram-sin’s legs. It was impossible to say how far the blade sliced into the man, he was wearing a tunic that went down halfway to his knees, but there was a lot of blood. And Naram-sin screamed like a mad man. John scooted backwards with the sword still wedged up somewhere in the bowels of Naram-sin just as the man fell forward. John grabbed for the sword, managed to get on his feet and kicked Naram-sin over so that he lay on his back. Dark blood was pooling in the dirt between Naram-sin’s legs but he started to get up. John put one foot on the other man’s chest and held him down. John then looked to the Emperor for the sign. The Emperor stood still for a long time. Naram-sin was starting to struggle and had grabbed onto John’s foot. But John managed to hold him pressed down firmly into the dirt. Finally the Emperor extended his arm and made a fist. Thumb down. Naram-sin was to live. The crowd went crazy again. Those that didn’t throw their fruit or sandals before now did. And again I prepared myself to run through the crowd and out. I wasn’t looking to fight Roman guards. But again, before I could turn my head and leave, John looked from the Emperor to the crowd and then down at his old friend. He bent down at the knees and, I think, said something to Naram-sin.

  Alvaro stops and looks at me expectantly.

  -You did say something to him, didn’t you? What did you say?

  I shrug my shoulders.

  -I forget. Something clever, I’m sure.

  -Hmmm… Something clever. And then John showed that he had one more surprise left. He took his foot from Naram-sin’s chest, and still bending down, ripped the iron chest plate off of Naram-sin. Without even a pause, John punched the other man so hard in the middle of his chest that his fist disappeared into Naram-sin’s flesh, causing Naram-sin to double up. With his right hand still in his chest, John used his left hand to hold Naram-sin’s head down and facing up. Then he pulled his bloody hand out. He was holding his friend’s heart. The crowd gasped in unison like one great big living thing. I saw people fall over. A man in front of me vomited. John stood up, held the still-beating heart high to show the crowd, then turned and showed the Emperor. And then he lowered the heart to his mouth and took a huge bite.

  13 - Hush Little John

  I’m in a room with the boy and his great grand-uncle. I’m on a thin mattress on the ground with a blanket and a small hard pillow. The boy fell asleep right away without saying a word to me. The old man woke up just to slowly hobble upstairs to the sleeping room and then quickly fell right back asleep. His emphysema is terrible and every breath as he sleeps sounds like his last. No way will he still be alive in a year.

  Sarah is in some other room. I don’t know where. I tried to walk with her to her room. I thought we could talk, that I could explain the ending to that story. She had said no. She was fine. One minute she wants to know the real me and the next she doesn’t want to talk to me. She just walked away, down the hall without looking back. Alvaro just had to tell that story. He had to put that image into Sarah’s head. He has it out for me. I don’t know why though. Something I did in the past. It could be a million reasons. I probably killed someone important to him. Nine out of ten times a First doesn’t care for me it’s because I killed someone. Shit. I need to sleep. Please, I whisper to myself, no dreams.

  14 - Finding Our Way Back

  The boy Joram wakes me and tells me it’s time to leave. It’s 4:30 in the morning and we have to leave now to make the drive back through Aleppo and then the mostly empty highways of Syria to sneak back over into Israel to catch our flight in Tel Aviv by 10am. I wash up and Joram hands me a small cup of strong coffee as we walk downstairs, through the hallways and come to the back room that leads into the alley. Sarah is here, on the couch, also with a cup of coffee. She smiles and nods her head. She’s wearing the slacks with a dark blouse and the headscarf. No one talks. Then there’s a short, feeble beep from outside and the three of us file out the door into the cool darkness of the alley to the same car and driver from yesterday. He jumps out of the car and opens the door for Sarah and then does the same for me on the other side of the car. Joram follows me around and apologizes for his masters not being here as we leave. They had business at the mosque, he says. He then runs around to the other side and through Sarah’s window he hands her a bag with some wrapped food and bottled water. They whisper to each other and Sarah takes out her phone and hands it to him. He’s putting in his contact information. What a fucking player. He passes her phone back through the window and I fully expect him to try to kiss her but he steps back and waves. We do the same and the driver backs up and we leave.

  -Somebody’s smitten.

  -He’s sweet.

  -I’m surprised they didn’t see us off. Business at the mosque at four-thirty in the morning. Whatever.

  -Die.

  The driver says this over his shoulder.

  -Nizar Khalil Hamed Abadi die.

  -The old man? The boy’s great grand-uncle?

  -Yes. No breathe. Die. Nizar Khalil Hamed Abadi my family. Joram my nephew.

  Sarah and I look at each other.

  -You’re Joram’s uncle? Nizar is your father?

  -Yes, yes.

  -Is everyone here related?

  -Yes, yes.

  We drive on in mostly silence, away from the edge of Aleppo untouched by war and into the neighborhoods bombed by locals and the government alike. At this hour no one is on the streets, though I see blanketed bodies in the alleys, the homeless that have nowhere to go and no one who cares.

  On the highway the driver speeds up. He has his window down half way and yells out to me over the wind, drink? Drink? I shake my head and say no. I’m ok. Again, he asks, drink? Again, no. Then he fumbles with something on his front seat, something he opens and closes, and he holds up a can of Mountain Dew. Holy Mother of… A Mountain Dew! He hands it back to me and then picks up another and offers it to Sarah. She shakes her head no though she’s laughing so hard he seems confused. I tell him he should drink it. We drink together, I say. He gives me a look like I am crazy and says no over and over. So I take it and drink both of them. They are slightly cooler than room temperature but still taste like heaven in a dirty aluminum can. He then picks up a portable cassette player from the front seat and looks back at me over his shoulder. This guy is full of surprises. And then I realize too late what is about to happen. No, I think. Please no.

  -Sonny Cher!

  He presses play and for the next three hours we listen to the greatest hits of Sonny and Cher through a small speaker with no bass. I pray to every god I can ever remember that the cassette tape breaks. As always before, the gods ignore me.

  We make it back through the checkpoint, this time with fewer guards and no uncle that wants to shoot us out of boredom. Back in Israel, we slow down on the highway and then take the exit into Tel Aviv and wind through streets that are busy with cars and people. Into another alley we go and there is the same taxi driver waiting for us. Our driver jumps out and opens o
ur doors. We all knew what was going to happen next and it did.

  -I got you babe!

  He smiles and shakes my hand. I give him a US twenty dollar bill with absolutely no idea what that means to him. He declines once, twice and then accepts and goes in for the hug. I’m not going to deny that I checked my back pocket immediately after the hug to make sure my wallet was still there. I’ve been robbed by far nicer people than our driver.

  Back in the taxi and then back to the airport. No McDonald’s this time. We go through security and kick back at the gate for less than an hour and then board our plane and settle in. The flight is booked solid and Sarah and I sit close together but don’t talk.

  I stay awake the entire flight to De Gaulle, my mind going over the previous night. Fuck. I need to be thinking about what’s going on in St Louis right now. Who’s trailing me, who’s asking about Sarah. Kingsley is the obvious answer but my gut tells me nothing about this is obvious. I do know that Kingsley tried to recruit me and then gave the ok to his goons to kill me. I know that Sarah survived First Death and became a First at the same time Kingsley is developing technology to find the first female First because of an 11,000 year old prophecy. Oh, and I’m at least 11,000 years old. Which means nothing to me, other than I should have had my Second Death a long time ago. I guess I’m due any day now. There are days, sometimes weeks and even months at a time, when I think it can’t come soon enough.