So they’re harassing my family now. “I’ll be home in three days. Until then how about you stay with your cousin. I have to finish this. You’ll be fine. God has a plan for me and for all of us.”
“How do I fit into this plan?” Her voice quivers, which gives me anxiety. She’s usually my rock, but is now cracking under the pressure I’ve brought on her. I know I need to end this. It is the only way our lives can return to normal. “I’ll be home soon, trust me. It’ll be okay. I love you.” I hang up the phone.
The next day I meet a man named Christian at a Catholic church on the outskirts of downtown Tunis. The church is a small building with an ornate front entrance and a tall roof. Other than that, the building is unobtrusive and quaint. Christian happens to be a tall, thin, young man with light blue eyes and shortly trimmed, dirty-blond hair. He wears a cassock that starts at his neck and hangs to his toes.
“Nice to meet you. Christian.” He introduces himself and shakes my hand loosely, “So, you here to learn about the Crusades?” His English is surprisingly good.
“I’m interested in the history of King Louis the Ninth.” We move to a desk inside the church office and sit.
“I can show you to our local records. However, you might have more luck in the Great Library at the Vatican.”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’ve been there. What I need is more information, such as local stories, maybe even rumors. I’d like to see the place where King Louis died. If that is possible?”
Christian thinks for a moment. “I do not know where he died. That information has been lost to time. I do know Louis the Ninth brought his brother Charles of Anjou, King of Sicily, to Tunisia with ten thousand troops. They easily took over the country. The King, however, died shortly afterward. The army made peace agreements with payment, left a garrison, and returned home with the King’s body.” After a short pause, Christian continues.
“There is a story I heard that is odd. The King brought a plague with him. Historians thought it was dysentery, but I have been told it was something else altogether. It made the entire inner city population die. The King’s remaining army declared the city cursed, and burned every building to the ground. In 1920, a mass grave was discovered on the Carthage side of town, the old villa. It contained as many as six hundred bodies — all burned.”
I circle the word ‘burned’ in my notebook. So far, two similar outbreaks occurred where the bodies were burned in an effort to control a plague. “Do they know for sure it was dysentery?”
Christian shakes his head. “The symptoms: vomit, internal hemorrhage, diarrhea, are similar, but who knows for sure?”
“The King wore a particular crown on his head. After his death his brother took the crown back to his country, incomplete. There was a precious stone in the crown that was not there anymore. This, too, is rumor of course,” I say, making up a few details.
“I’ve not heard anything about a stone.”
“Well, I believe it was blamed for the death of an entire city in northern Israel called Caesarea. It would make sense that the army became afraid of the stone and left it behind, but I would think a piece of that crown would be stolen, not destroyed.”
“I’ve not heard of this.” Christian scribbles a name on a scrap of paper. “Call this man. He is the Islamic scholar in the area. He knows about the peace treaty signed with the King, and his men and this plague. He may have historical records for you regarding this cursed stone.”
I leave the Catholic Church immediately and ask my cab driver about the man named Al-Ahem Mohamad Jahar. He takes me to the largest mosque in Tunisia, Al-Zaytuna Mosque.
It’s such a beautiful building. There are hundreds of columns lining the colorful tile-covered prayer yard. A tall, square tower stands at one end of the yard. There’s a single story building surrounding the rest of the yard with a dome top on the far end. An old man who has thick, deep wrinkles and sun-worn skin meets me. He wears a colorful tunic and a long gown as blue as the sky.
As we cut across the prayer yard, the man points out the significant parts of the structure. Thankfully, he too speaks English. “The columns are taken from the ancient city, all one hundred and sixty. They date back to the time of Carthage.”
“Beautiful,” I say, feeling nervous. There’s something about this man that I do not like. The wind picks up and spins dust in chaotic circles. I sneeze. It burns my eyes. I cover my nose and mouth with my handkerchief.
“Al-Zaytuna is famous university. Many scholar come here,” the old man says as he walks me past the Carthage columns and on to a building under the dome.
A younger man approaches me and shakes my hand. “I heard you were on your way,” the man says easily. He wears a white cap and an equally bright blue and gold cassock-style dress. “Come this way, please.”
We step into an office. He shows me how to wash my feet before I enter. “So, you’re interested in the disease that killed King Louis the Ninth?”
“I’m studying the Ninth Crusade. I’m particularly interested in a crown the King wore that is missing an infamous stone.”
The man’s smile vanishes. He excuses himself. I wait and wait. The walls in the office are bare. The desk only has a note pad and a box on it. There’s a small bookshelf with only five books on it. I lean in to read the spines: The Quran, Muhammad: The Life of the Great Man, Hadith in Islam and others I do not recognize. Most are typical, I would guess. There’s one worn out book that catches my eye. The spine is creased and faded. It’s a book on astrology. Someone is very interested in the sky. Meteorites come from the sky. The Stone of Allah came from the sky.
The young man returns. “I do not have any information about any crown. However, I have heard a story that many of the survivors of the plague escaped to Gabes. That is all I have.” The man stands up and shows me to the door. I thank him, but I’m rushed out of there like I have an infectious disease.
As I leave the courtyard, a van stops in front of me. A police officer steps out and heads toward me. I’m not immediately alarmed until I see his face. His stare is solid and hard and his fists are clenched. I freeze. I’ve not done anything wrong.
“Excuse me!” He says. “American preacher!”
I don’t know whether to run or not. I see a woman quickly duck inside a small market across the street. The street is now empty, silent. I turn but there’s another police officer behind me. I lift up my hands, palms open. They are grabbed and twisted behind me. A hood is thrown over my head. I’m dragged, then shoved into the back of the van.
Chapter 1.17
Hana:
My side arm is at the ready, cocked, with the safety off. Tanis is hiding on the other side of the door, looking at me. I peek through the small glass window centered in the door. It’s raining steadily and getting worse, so it’s hard to see. Four looters are trying to kick down the gate at the end of the walkway. The only other weapons I see are a baseball bat and a two-by-four. I grip my weapon and thank Jesus that I’m armed.
The gate breaks open and the group quickly moves down the walkway and onto the pier. One stays behind and closes the gate. I hope they see that the boats are gone and move on. The man with the long black hair moves quickly to the door. I duck just as he looks through it.
“There’s a boat inside!” he yells.
This may get ugly. I motion for Tanis to back away from the door, mouthing, “Get upstairs!” Tanis disappears up the stairway.
There are two double doors. I’m behind one set of doors and there’s another set on the opposite wall of the storeroom. I’d broken the small windowpane on the opposite door, so I know they won’t have any trouble getting in. Damn it. I should have thought to barricade the doors. I may have lost our hideout. I’m glad to see another human alive, but they may not be friendly. In these situations, territory like this is invaluable. I decide my best option is to make a stand. I hide behind a tall storage cabinet and wait for one of them to enter.
The door opens and the black
hair guy moves inside cautiously. He has no weapon. I lunge from my hiding spot and train my pistol at his chest.
He raises his hands and yelps. I shush him and direct him to the corner of the room with my hand. Then the fat white man enters.
“Drop the wood!” I yell.
He drops the wood. “Ahh, I just pissed my pants a little!”
“It’s okay!” Ian yells with his hands high over his head.
I put my finger up to my lips ordering the two men to be silent. I motion with the barrel of my gun for the fat man to join his friend in the corner. I whisper harshly, “Keep your hands up. Make one sound and I shoot you in the leg. You can bleed out for all I care.”
The black man enters the building. He must have heard me because his hands are already held high with his baseball bat pinched loosely between his fingers. “I’m no trouble to you. Neither are my companions. We’re here for a boat. My name is Markus and that’s Ben. He is Ian. The woman is Rice and the boy is Andy. We just saved them from a burning building, which is now between us and two hundred or so zombies.”
“Thanks, pops,” Ben snips.
I lower my gun, not bothering to point it at the woman or the kid. “Take the boat. I patched the hole in it yesterday.”
Markus steps toward me, relaxing. I bring my gun back up to his chest. He raises his hands back up and says calmly, “You’re a police officer. I can tell. I’m a preacher. We’re good guys, too. Please, lower the gun and let’s talk.”
I lower my gun to my side. “Take the boat. There’s nothing else for you here. All I ask is that you leave as soon as possible.”
Ben lowers his hands, “C’mon lady. There’s some crazy shit out there.”
“You’re not safe here. No one is,” Ian says.
“He’s right. Have you seen what’s going on?” Markus asks.
“Obviously not!” Ben injects. “She looks kinda messed up, but if she’d fought those walkers she’d be freaked like we are.”
“Listen, the dead are getting up and walking!” Ian takes off his pack and leans against the wall. “We had to fight them. They don’t die.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap. “Who won’t die?”
Ben steps toward me then stops as I tense up. “Listen, lady. Everyone that died is now getting up and walking around. Zombies, dude.” He grabs a section of his shirt and thrusts it toward me. “See this blue crap. This isn’t paint, lady. It’s their blood.”
“The virus seems to have turned their blood blue. It’s also growing these white root-like things in their bodies,” Ian clarifies Ben’s rant. “Probably mutated the central nervous system.”
“It’s all true,” Rice adds, her voice shaky and weak. “They’re everywhere.”
Markus looks out the window. “They seem to have some sense for what they crave because they are following us.” Markus says, then adds, “Oh no. We have more company.”
I run to the door and peek out the window. Thunder interrupts the conversation, and the rain ratchets up. A dark bob-cut woman with a couple of rifles draped over her shoulder and a thin white man wearing a medical mask are at the gate breaking it open. It must have frustrated her because she pulls out a shotgun and bashes the latch off with the butt of the gun. The gate swings open wildly. She is splattered in the same chunky blue stuff that Ben is covered in.
“Do you know her?”
“No,” replies Markus.
“This one’s armed,” I mention. “Let her come in just like I let you. Everyone get in the corner.”
Tanis runs down the stairs. “There are two more coming down the gate.” He’s worried. “The girl’s armed: shotgun, two pistols and a M16A4, standard issue army reserve assault rifle. The dude she’s with has a chainsaw.”
“Thanks, Tanis. I’d find that hiding spot again,” I reply, looking out the window to confirm. “Take Andy with you.” I add. Tanis takes Andy and goes back upstairs. “She’s not army reserve, though.”
“Kid knows his weapons,” Ben comments.
“Yeah,” I answer.
Ian peeks out the window of the opposite door. “Definitely not reserve.” The armed woman at the gate does exactly the same thing we all did. She tries to lock the gate after she’d forced it open. Now the latch is too broken, and so she can only tie the gate shut.
“I think we’re going to avoid a gun fight. She looks okay to me,” Ian says.
“Thinking like that can get us killed.”
The woman and the man start toward the boathouse. As they come closer the woman docks her weapon in her shoulder and stares down the sight.
I motion for everyone to get away from the doors and watch her scan the area while on one knee. Definitely has military training. The woman looks across the river, noticing the boats on the other side. She runs to the building. She veers away from the door, turns, and hides along the east wall of the boathouse. She must have noticed the broken window. Maybe she’s just being careful. The man she’s with stays right behind her with his chainsaw. There’s another double door towards the back, presumably for launching and loading boats.
I don’t want a standoff. I don’t want to have to kill her. I’ve had to kill before and it never leaves you. I think it changed my DNA somehow, altered my dreams, aged me.
Ian yells as loud as he can, “Don’t shoot!”
“Then start throwing weapons out that door!” Isabella replies.
“We’re wasting time. The walkers are following us! We don’t mean any harm,” Markus yells. “I give you my word!”
“My name is Hana! What’s yours?” I add, thinking this is a better strategy than getting shot.
“I just want a boat!” yells Isabella. “And I won’t take no for an answer!” She fires a round into the air. “I’ve got sixty rounds here and I know you don’t have that.”
“This is so stupid,” Ian hisses. “Can’t we all use the boat together?”
“That would be wise!” Markus says. “Please, lower your weapon and come on in. Help us get the boat in the water!”
The gate rattles. I see more people at the gate.
“They’re here!” Ben yells. He runs to the boat. “Come on! They’re slow as shit, but getting faster.”
“Ben is right.” Markus joins Ben near the upside-down boat.
I run to the boat. It flips over easily even though it’s very heavy. Had me and Tanis tried this alone it would have been impossible. I count the seats. It’s a big rowboat and will hold us all, barely. The boat slips into grooves in the floor. The grooves lead to a double door. Ben opens the doors.
“PUSH!” Markus yells.
We slide the boat on its belly and out the side door. It splashes in the water noisily. Ian holds a line tied to the boat preventing it from floating away. He steps out of the boathouse garage and into the line of fire.
Isabella runs up to him. When he doesn’t move or raise his hands, she lowers her rifle. “Fine, we all use it.” She introduces herself and Josh reluctantly.
Tanis flies down the stairs to see what’s going on. I run to him. “We have to go. It’s not safe here.”
He points to the end of the walkway. “There are more people.”
“Those aren’t survivors,” Ian says as he tosses his backpack into the boat. Isabella lowers her weapons and her pack into the boat.
We watch the gate as more and more walkers arrive.
“We’re good. They can’t get through that gate,” Ben says.
The gate is over fifteen feet tall and has solid metal arches on either side of the walkway. The bars are made to look like boat oars. On top of the bars is a sign. The whole contraption looks impregnable.
“I had to bust the lock when we got here,” I confess. “Which means it’s not as strong.”
The dead surge at the gate and manage to bust the metal tie. The gate swings open. Hundreds storm through.
Ben gets in the boat first and helps Markus onto the deck. Ian and Rice board next.
“
I just want to stay here until we’re rescued,” Tanis complains.
“I know, but I don’t think we can. We’ll be sitting ducks,” I say, holding Tanis by the shoulders. “We have to get across the river. There’s probably a containment line — we get there, we’re safe. Then we can find our families.”
Other walkers climb over the gate and drop to the other side. Some fall over the walkway and into the water. The others move down the walkway slowly but purposefully. From this distance they look like drunks.
“Hurry! In the boat!” Ben cries out.
I help Josh, Tanis, and Andy aboard and then hop in myself.
“Thank you,” Josh says from behind his hospital mask. I pass around the three oars we have. I row out of the dock area and into the river. The walkers mass on the dock and struggle to get to the boathouse.
“Why are they like that?” Tanis asks.
“They’re zombies, dude,” Ben says. These one’s are comin’ to eat our brains.”
I look at Ben and frown. “Let’s not be too dramatic and scare him. He’s only fifteen.”
Ben tries to stand, rocks the boat, then sits. “Shit, lady. I’m not being dramatic. No reason to sugar coat this crap. We’re all havin’ nightmares tonight.”
I look away because Ben’s glib, in-your-face remarks are making me mad. The only way he’s coping is because he’s drunk. At the dock those things stopped just short of jumping into the water to pursue us. They have some brains.
Ian says to me, “It’s true, Hana. They won’t stop. We had to beat them into the pavement to get them to stop.”
Then Isabella chimes in, “I’ve put rounds in their heads and they keep comin’.”
It’s raining hard. Completely soaked, I start shivering. Tanis’ hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks five years younger. His eyes betray how afraid he is. I feel so bad for him. He’s just a boy, someone’s baby. I put my arm around him. “Things just got a whole lot worse for us. I’m sorry.”
6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 Page 14