by Boyd Brent
“But why?”
“Just in case.”
“Of what?”
“You survived the events of this Shadow Strand long enough to undertake Christ's ordeal on the cross.”
David scratched the palm of his hand. “Why that ordeal?”
“The answer had me perplexed. I eventually traced the relevant pattens to this understanding: billions of people held within their consciousness the belief that Christ's ordeal was the ultimate suffering, and a yardstick against which all suffering was to be judged. This permeated the mechanism and it became the task of the last empath to survive it.”
“I only survived because of you.”
“It was a team effort.”
“You said you'd identified a pattern … an Alpha Key. Something we can use to attack Goliath.”
Gull contemplated the Event Helix like a man considering a work of art that still possessed meanings to be unlocked. “The patterns indicate that an ancestor of one of Goliath's previous vessels is located in the next Shadow Strand. And that he is going to rape a young woman. By preventing this rape, we can inflict a blow on Goliath.”
“A noble cause. But how will it harm him?”
“Should there be no intervention, a child will be conceived. This child's DNA will play a significant role in defining Goliath's current personality.”
“His personality?”
“As shaped by the process of seepage.”
“I take it this man is not a particularly nice person.”
“I can only admire your capacity for understatement, David.”
“So how do we find him?”
“By first locating the woman we must protect.” Gull unfolded his arms and placed a hand on David's shoulder. The Event Helix shrunk to the top right-hand side of the universe, and from the top left-hand corner came an image or scene that grew bigger and filled the space above them. It was a scene David recognised. Gull continued, “While unconscious aboard the shuttle craft that brought you into Earth's orbit, you experienced what seemed to you a dream.” He indicated the wood that filled the universe above them. In the middle distance a young woman leaned forward with her hands on her knees, looking at them. Her large brown eyes stared through them like a frightened fawn's, and she had a scar on her cheek.
“Yes. I remember her,” said David. “I also saw a man on horseback. A soldier. He went after her.”
“She is the female we must protect. The man who will rape her is a soldier. But I do not believe him to be the soldier you saw in your vision. If we prevent this rape, the conception of Goliath’s ancestor will be thwarted. And a significant blow will be landed against him.”
“So how do we find her?”
“As I said, she is located within the next Shadow Strand. The entrance to which is located within the old city of Jerusalem. Beneath a gate known as the 'Gate of Mercy'. As we know, there are no coincidences. It is therefore no coincidence that the gate has great meaning to the primitives of this time.”
“And that would be?”
“That their long-awaited messiah, the saviour of mankind, will eventually use this gate.”
“I hope you're not suggesting that's me.”
“It is a matter of semantics. Should we succeed and defeat Goliath, then primitives would need to assign a religious significance to such an event. Such assignations are the most common misconceptions in the history of Man. But one that provides a simple means by which to process complicated information.”
“Is the woman we seek in immediate danger?”
“The events contained within the next Shadow Strand will not commence until we arrive there.”
“When do we leave here?”
“At dusk.”
“Alright. And what's our destination beyond the Gate of Mercy?”
“A place of unparalleled suffering and cruelty.”
David spoke quietly. “You surprise me.”
“It is perhaps the darkest chapter in human history. And, through the process of seepage, it has become Goliath's inspiration for Petri.”
Thirty four
At dawn they set out for Jerusalem with Gull at the helm. David strolled within the forest of his mind and wandered into a clearing where Gull's field of vision was projected between two trees. As David watched the sepia scrub land flow past, he thought about Sirius and contemplated killing him, but shook his head as the walls of Jerusalem loomed on the horizon. David's blue eyes replaced Gull's whites as they passed beneath a gate and entered the ancient city. David was swathed all in black with a hood pulled low over his face.
Given his past experience of this city and its inhabitants, he had no time for either, instead directing his gaze towards the ground and awaiting Gull's directions. The further into the old city they went, the noisier and more aromatic it became. The hustle and bustle of daily life filled his peripheral vision, and if someone crossed or stumbled into his path his determination was such that he reached out and gently pushed them aside. David feared that were he to abandon his stride he might never again find the determination he needed to enter this gate and propel himself to a place Gull had described as 'perhaps the darkest chapter in human history'. David made his way up a hill towards a cream-coloured wall that towered beneath the sun. In the centre of the wall was an arch, and beyond that arch was a hell of man's creation – for David, at least. People were gathered at the arch to pray. Some prayed on their feet while others prayed on their knees for the coming of their Messiah. A man dressed in black strode through their ranks, and to the astonishment of those paying attention the arch appeared not to conjure a Messiah that day but to swallow one whole.
The sun-drenched silence of that place of pilgrimage was swept away by the clattering of wheels on rails. David found himself suddenly sprawled across the tops of heads packed into a cattle wagon, stark naked. Cries rose above that metallic din, and much jostling ensued as a gap appeared from somewhere and David slid sideways towards the floor of the wagon. Hopeless faces loomed over him – the filthy, emaciated faces of men, women and children. Their wooden expressions suggested that under normal circumstances David's materialisation would be something of an event, but these circumstances were not normal – they were apocalyptic, and therefore lithe warriors might be expected to fall from the ether. The cattle truck swayed to and fro, and sunlight pierced its horizontal slats like shelves of illuminated dust. One of these wrapped itself around David's head like a crown or a halo. David looked up at those exhausted faces and felt a lump in his throat that no amount of swallowing would budge. An old grey man in an old grey coat shouldered his way forward. He reached up and meekly tapped the low roof of the cattle truck with a crooked finger. He looked down and observed the lithe and long-haired man conjured from the ether and said, “If you're Jesus Christ, you've come to the wrong place.” Tears filled his eyes. “There are only Jews here … and God has forsaken us.”
“Where are we, Gull?”
“We are on board a transport.”
“Where's it headed? What's happening to these people?”
“We are in a country called Poland, two thousand years from our last location.”
“Backwards or forwards?”
“Clearly forwards. We are on our way to a killing factory. These people are to be enslaved and terminated.”
As David listened to Gull, he watched the people above him, who in turn observed him talking to his imaginary friend with the same wooden-faced incredulity. And so it was that David continued his conversation. “Who is going to … who wants to hurt these people?”
“Nazis.”
“Nazis?”
“Their leader had a particular hatred for Jews. Although hard-working and prolific contributors to the worlds of business, science and medicine, he blamed them for his nation's ills. And he instilled this hatred in his people as a means to a common, unifying end. These people are the descendants of the people you saw in the streets of Jerusalem.”
“What's this leader's name
?”
“Adolf Hitler.”
A young man in a brown duffle coat knelt and pointed between David's legs. “Look! He is a Jew.”
A male voice from the back asked, “A mad Jew?”
A little girl of about five years old stood behind David. David had not noticed her, but now he heard her tiny voice. “Jesus was a Jew. Are you going to save us?”
David sat up on his side and turned towards the girl, who wore a bright red dress with a yellow star stitched into it. David glanced around and now noticed all the other stars. He looked back at the girl and tried to shake his head, but it felt too heavy somehow so he shrugged up his shoulders. “I'm just … I'm just a man. I'm here to find one amongst you.”
“For what purpose?” asked the old man.
The words seemed to stick in David's throat. “A young woman … I must find and protect her.”
“Why this woman?”
“I believe the future depends upon it.”
The very concept of a future seemed to energise the old man. “There's a future? What future?”
“Many years from now, mankind will face his final reckoning.”
“You mean this isn't it?”
“No. This isn't it, but the deed s… the way of life of the empathic … they can still triumph.”
“Triumph?”
“Yes. Over those who would do this.”
The young man in the brown duffle coat wiped the tears from his eyes. “You mean that he who laughs last will laugh loudest?”
“You could say that.”
“What is your name?” asked the old man.
“David.”
“And will you laugh for us, David?”
“Laugh for you?”
“At the end of days … at the final judgment, will you laugh for us?”
“If I make it.” The man who had questioned David's sanity earlier spoke up again. “For us. Not at us.” David smiled and craned his head but could not see who had spoken.
The old man spoke again. “Who is this blessed young woman you seek?”
“I don't know her name. I've only seen her once.” Pushing and shoving ensued, out of which four young women emerged. They gazed down at David with expressions of rekindled hope that brought the lump back to his throat. He cast his gaze over their faces and shook his head. The wheels of the train screeched on the rails and it began to slow.
The young man in the brown coat took it off. “Please … take it. You will stand out like that. They could shoot you for impertinence.” The train slowed to a stop. Outside they heard the bark of large hounds and the scurrying of feet. And in the distance the crack! crack! crack! of gunfire. David pulled on the coat and stood, making sure he was first in line at the sliding door. He felt a tug on his coat tails and looked down into the eyes of the little girl in the red dress. Her eyes were baby blue, and they communicated a vulnerable determination to survive that belongs only to the very young. From between her black patent leather shoes a puddle of urine crept slowly across the wooden boards. David placed his hand on her head and smiled. “What's your name?”
“Anna.”
“Are your parents with you?”
Anna shook her head. A female voice behind them said, “She's the last. Her family are all with God.”
Anna looked at the door. “They killed them.”
The door burst open, and in rushed a blinding light with many hands that dragged David out. David feigned weakness and tumbled forwards onto the ground where a large dog on a leash went for his throat. David turned quickly and caught the dog's jaws with his elbow. A man shrieked at him to “Get up! Get up! Get up!” He did so, and the others from his compartment crowded round him like magnets. David was a head taller than the tallest of these broken people. He glanced at the ground for Anna and saw her move between his legs – the terrified final piece of a jigsaw puzzle determined to fit.
“You can't save her, David,” said Gull.
“I won't abandon her.” David stooped and fixed his gaze on the shoulders of the man in front, and in this way his group moved towards the camp's main gate. Dozens of soldiers lined their route – men in dark uniforms with machine guns and expressions of ill-judged superiority. They moved beneath the gates into a courtyard like bi-pedal lambs to the slaughter. Two warehouses stood at the far end of the courtyard.
The warehouse on the left was marked 'Hairdressers.' And the one on the right 'Cloakroom and Valuables'. In this courtyard they were told to undress. A small boy in striped pyjamas went amongst them handing out string. David took some. “What's this for?”
Anna said, “It's for your shoes.” She sat and slid off her shoes like a child at her first day at school and added, “To tie your laces together.”
David handed the string back to the boy. “I don't have any shoes.” The boy's dark-ringed eyes observed him as if to say, 'That's the least of your worries, mister.'
The warehouses spanned the north end of the courtyard. Buildings of red brick enclosed the two sides. The entrance and a barbed wire fence and watchtower comprised the southern end. Fifty guards with machine guns lined this area and two more with sniper rifles stood smoking in the watchtower. David cast his gaze over these combatants. “We cannot terminate them all,” said Gull. “And the ones you see represent a fraction of those within a five-hundred-metre radius.”
They were ushered naked into the warehouse marked 'Hairdressers'. It was an expansive area with a low, transparent ceiling where leaves could be seen rotting on the outside. The hum of low-voltage electric razors sounded like an army of bored mosquitoes. They were directed into one of six rows where the walking dead in striped pyjamas waited to shave their heads. These useful inmates would not or could not make eye contact with the new arrivals. They embraced their usefulness like sleepwalkers sleepwalking through a nightmare. The guards smiled amiably and said their hair was needed to make something special for U-boat crews, and that they should not worry because it would soon grow back. Gull located this information, this 'promise,' in his database. “They intend to execute these people immediately, David.”
“Immediately?”
“They are being prepared for the camp's gas chambers. And the woman we are here to protect is less than five metres from our location.”
David glanced about like a man trying to locate the smell of burning. On his right, in the line adjacent to his own, stood the cause of the fire. The young woman's head was bent forwards and the lower part of her profile obscured by her hair. She clutched her arms to her breasts and peered over the tops of her fists into nothing – the void of her future, perhaps. She coughed and pushed her hair from her face with a clenched fist. “It's her … minus the scar on her cheek,” said David. He placed a hand on Anna's head. “How am I going to remove them both from this situation, Gull?”
Anna was staring up at him. She glanced over at the woman and then flung herself against his leg, holding on as though a chasm had opened beneath her feet. David stroked her hair as Gull replied, “The young woman is to be spared the gas chambers. How else is her rape to occur?”
“What if our presence here has changed that somehow?”
“The changes we have caused will not have spread beyond the people we arrived with. With the possible exception of Anna, those ripples alone are too minor to affect what must come next.”
A woman in striped pyjamas and holding a razor peered at Anna over a low table. David lifted Anna onto the table. The woman said, “You must let go of your hair, young lady.” Anna shook her head. A guard somewhere yelled “Quicker!”, and Anna yelped and released it.
As Anna's blond locks were peeled away, David became aware of movement up ahead. Two SS officers were inspecting the prisoners. They were trailed by two guards who in turn shepherded two young women. One of the SS officers spotted the young woman. He grabbed her wrists and raised her arms into the air, holding them up as though waiting for someone to hoist her to the ceiling. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and grun
ted affirmatively as he studied her breasts.
“Remain calm, David,” said Gull. “I believe this is how she evades today's execution.” The SS man inspected her backside and gave it a slap. He took hold of her chin and raised her face. “Good. Very good.” He pulled her out of the line and put her with the other two. Her gaze rose from the ground and found David's as though he had called to her. Her lips parted and her eyes filled with recognition. As she was led away she continued to look back and watch him as she had in his dream. David heard a raised voice telling him to sit and felt someone tapping his knee. He looked down. Anna was pointing at the woman with the razor. He heard her voice clearly now. “Sit. On the table. Sit and lower your head. Are you deaf?” David sat, and beneath the razor's drone he whispered, “Where have they taken her?”
“The timing and nature of her removal suggests she is to be taken to Block 24. Block 24 is a brothel, for use by senior Nazis.”
“You know where that is?”
“Yes, David.”
A barbed wire fence ran down the side of the warehouse marked 'Cloakroom and Valuables'. The distance between the warehouse and the fence was five metres – room enough for a narrow corridor. The new arrivals were herded down the corridor towards a bunker – a flat, grey building sunk halfway into the ground. At its centre a concrete staircase vanished into a basement. Naked and shaven, David and Anna were amongst a throng of several hundred now ushered towards their place of execution. The guards at the start of this corridor made repeated reassurances about what awaited them at the other end. “Shower rooms. Just shower rooms. You are all to be disinfected. Deloused. Once you are inside and the doors are closed, remember to breathe deeply. It's good stuff. Good for you.”
Anna took hold of David's hand. He looked over his shoulder and saw another group of several hundred being ushered towards the corridor they had just entered. The hundred or so in front were closer to their place of execution. Four guards stood outside the bunker and continued to give reassurances to those descending the steps. “Take full advantage. Breathe deeply once the doors are closed and the process underway …” The column of condemned moved slowly forwards. “Either you have a suggestion for a stealthy exit or …” murmured David. He looked ahead to where the four guards were laughing and dispensing advice. “… or I disarm one of those men, shoot the other three, and blast an exit in this fence.” He glanced at the woods a hundred and fifty metres away across open ground.