The Age of Apollyon Trilogy (The Age of Apollyon, Black Sun, Scorn)

by Mark Carver

  Julian nodded decisively. “Good. You will be my right hand, carrying out the tasks that I cannot. I’m...a little new to all of this,” he added sheepishly.

  Master Ko gave him a fatherly smile. “Leaders are made, not born. And I swear on my life that I will help you build a new church such as the world has never seen.”

  He watched Julian’s face keenly, satisfied when he saw the familiar gleam of pride sparkle in his eyes. He was tempted to say more, to sprinkle more water on the seed, but he held his tongue and let Julian’s soul wrap around the dream, let it ingest it and absorb it into itself.

  “Yes...” Julian said more to himself than to Master Ko. He started walking down the corridor for a few paces, then stopped and turned around.

  “Do you know where the kitchen is?”

  Master Ko cocked an eyebrow, then motioned with his hand. “Please follow me, Your Holiness.”

  ****

  “Are you sure about this, sir?”

  Corporal Baker cinched the strap tight across his shoulder and looked the young man in the eyes.

  “I’ve got no choice, son. If there’s a chance that Captain Jeraque is alive, I need to take it. He’s the reason we’re here, and he’s my friend.”

  The lieutenant shifted his feet, trying very hard to conceal his anxiety. Corporal Baker recognized it immediately.

  “Permission to speak your mind, son.”

  The lieutenant licked his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. “Is this the best course of action, sir? I mean, it was already a bit of a long shot getting here, and we didn’t know what to expect or what we were even going to do. We had planned on meeting a contingent of elite fighters but all that’s left is one man with a busted hand. I don’t mean to be negative, sir, but I don’t see how our presence here can serve any meaningful purpose. We didn’t come here for ourselves; we came for Captain Jeraque. And if he is out of the picture, then – “

  Corporal Baker held up his hand, stopping the lieutenant’s words. He tugged on a few more straps and checked a pocket or two, then leveled his eyes at his subordinate and took a deep breath.

  “Son, I want you to listen to me. Not just as your commander, but as your friend and your brother. We didn’t come here for Captain Jeraque. We came here because only a few hundred miles away is where the devil himself came down to Earth and set up camp. You think because we live an ocean away that we’re safe? Evil doesn’t stay cooped up. It’s a disease that spreads, and we’re the surgeons. And now we’ve got some momentum on our side with all that craziness going on in Rome. I don’t know what God’s plan is for all of that, but I have faith that He has one.”

  The lieutenant lowered his eyes. He tightened his mouth a bit and looked like he wanted to say something but checked himself.

  Corporal Baker put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Let me tell you something, son. My great-grandfather was a traveling preacher in the Wyoming territory, right around the time of the War of Northern Aggression. He was the kindest, most gentle-hearted man you could imagine, and the fire of God burned in him. People said he could convert the most wayward soul in less than ten minutes. And he also killed seventeen men. That’s a historical fact, son. My point is, there’s a time to love, and a time to fight. Right now, we fight, because if we don’t, then who will?”

  When the lieutenant looked up, Corporal Baker saw tears in his eyes.

  “I’m scared, sir,” the young man said, struggling to keep his voice from trembling. “Ever since we came out here, I can’t shake this feeling that I’ll never make it back to Annalynne and Claire. I don’t want to die in France, sir…”

  Guilt pecked at Corporal Baker’s heart, but he kept his face rigid and his voice firm. “That’s the devil trying to wear you down, son. He’s afraid of you, afraid of all of us. We can’t hurt him with our weapons, except one: our faith. We wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t part of God’s plan, and we can’t turn back now. There are people who need us, people who are counting on us. We’re going to make it back, but right now we have a job to do. It doesn’t matter whether we’re in Texas or Paris or Timbuktu – we’re all part of God’s family, and family takes care of each other.”

  The lieutenant was silent for a moment, then nodded after regaining his composure.

  “You’re right, sir. Forgive me, sir.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, son. Just be ready to act when the time comes.”

  He gave the young man’s shoulder one more reassuring squeeze, then took a step back and opened his arms.

  “How do I look?”

  The lieutenant studied his commander’s faded Universitie de Paris t-shirt, baggy khaki trousers, hiking boots, and ancient backpack with frayed edges and popped seams.

  “Like a photo-happy tourist, sir.”

  “Close enough,” Corporal Baker said as he snatched up a cabbie cap that had to be at least twenty years old. “I’m going for ‘professor on sabbatical.’”

  The lieutenant’s eyebrows rose. “Oh…that sounds like it might be difficult to pull off, sir. Maybe you should just pretend to be an ordinary tourist.”

  Corporal Baker looked down at his outfit with indignation. “Difficult to pull off? Son, ‘professor on sabbatical’ was exactly what I was twenty-five years ago. Where do you think I got this shirt?”

  It hardly seemed possible, but the lieutenant’s eyebrows rose even higher. “You were…? Sir, I…”

  Corporal Baker waved his words away. “Don’t apologize. Not many people know about it, anyway. I’m not sure how people would react if they knew that the commander of the 21st Battalion spent four years in Europe lecturing about medieval economics during the bubonic plague.”

  “But you’re telling me, sir.”

  “That’s because I trust you,” the corporal said with a smile. “And I’m trusting you to be in charge until I get back.”

  The lieutenant straightened his spine and snapped his heels together. “Sir!”

  “Just sit tight, stay out of sight. Talk to Private Chevallais and see if he knows any locals who could help with supplies, info, anything. I don’t like leaving you stranded like this so I will try to get back as soon as I can. You can contact me on this phone if there’s an emergency, but only if there’s an emergency. The number’s already programmed in. I have one just like it and it can only call this phone, so it’s essentially a two-way radio.”

  The lieutenant took the small clamshell phone. “And what about you, sir? Again, I don’t mean to sound negative, but you’re just one man. What if he’s being held by an entire garrison? Don’t you think you should take some of our guys with you?”

  Corporal Baker shook his head. “Too risky. I know France fairly well, or at least I did, but it’s like getting back on a bike. I know how to keep myself invisible, and I’ll get answers, one way or another.”

  The lieutenant clearly wasn’t satisfied but he held his tongue. Instead, he saluted.

  “Good luck, sir, and godspeed.”

  Corporal Baker returned the salute, then hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and headed towards the exit.

  “Sir!” the lieutenant called out after him.

  Corporal Baker turned around.

  “Can you speak French?” the lieutenant asked.

  Corporal Baker snorted with mock indignation. “Bien sur!”

  He vanished into the darkness, leaving the lieutenant alone with the shadows.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Father DeMarco shoved the keys back towards Dr. Rosetta.

  “No, please, we can’t take these.”

  Dr. Rosetta’s large, hairy hands closed around the priest’s, making them completely disappear.

  “Father, listen to me. It is no accident that you came to us. I mean, nursing both brothers back to health? That is no coincidence. No, God is at work here, and we follow where He leads our heart.”

  He gently pushed Father DeMarco’s hands away, then hugged his daughter to his side.
>
  “It is the least we can do since you will not come with us. At least you will have a place to stay.”

  Father DeMarco looked down at the battered copper keys in his palm. “We don’t have any money to...”

  Dr. Rosetta quieted him by raising his hand. “All the more reason why you should stay here. Where were you expecting to go after we left? I don’t think the hotels are open anymore, and even if they were, you said it yourself that you don’t have any money. We rented this place for two months, and there are enough dry goods and water to last you at least that long. We were never planning on staying, but we hadn’t expected to need to leave so soon. I’m asking you one last time, Father: please come with us.”

  Father DeMarco smiled, sorrow and gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you my friend, but I also feel God pulling on my heart. I will confront this blasphemer and whatever happens, I will be in God’s hands. But I cannot run away, not when I am so close to the epicenter.”

  Dr. Rosetta took a deep breath that sounded like a sigh, then looked at Patric. “And you, Signore Bourdon?”

  Patric shook his head. “I am forever in your debt; we both are. But I will stay here with Father DeMarco.”

  “And what do you think will be the outcome in all of this?” the doctor asked. His voice bristled with a challenging tone as he fixed his gaze on Patric. “Do you want to see this man who commands the sun exposed as a servant of Satan?”

  Patric’s eyes fell to the floor and he nervously rubbed his bandaged hands against his legs. “I...I want the truth to be revealed.”

  “And when it is?”

  Patric raised his eyes and stared directly at the doctor.

  “When it is, I will accept it, as all men should when confronted with the truth.”

  Dr. Rosetta’s black bushy moustache trembled for a moment, then he nodded. “Indeed they should. Remember your words, Signore Bourdon. The truth has a tendency to be incredibly potent, and it changes everyone it touches, especially if they have been holding onto a false truth for a long time.”

  Patric’s throat felt dry but he didn’t swallow. He held the doctor’s gaze until the large man turned to his daughter and smiled.

  “Ready to go, my angel?”

  Sophia nodded. “God bless you both,” she said to Father DeMarco and Patric. “Be safe. I will pray for you often.”

  “Thank you, child,” Father DeMarco said, taking her hand in his.

  Her eyes flitted nervously towards Patric for a moment. He could tell that she wanted to say something, but her words stumbled over themselves in her mind before they could reach her tongue. Patric interrupted the awkward moment by saying, “Both of you be careful as well. It’s dangerous everywhere now.”

  Dr. Rosetta looked at Sophia with heartache in his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He sighed wearily. “I long for the days when the most serious concern I had was which birthday present to get her. Now...I never thought I would be raising my daughter up in a world that has actually been touched by the hand of the devil.”

  He glanced out the window at the awakening dawn that was still scratched with black trails of smoke. “We must hurry, Sophia. Things are quieter now but who knows for how long.”

  Sophia gave Father DeMarco an anxious smile for encouragement, then looked at Patric with hard, searching eyes.

  “I see him in you,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “Your brother. Tourec. I could see the passion in his heart, and I could also see the danger.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not sorry for what he did, or what we did to help him. I’m not glad that anyone had to die, but I’m glad things are not the way they always were. And whether or not this new leader is a liar makes no difference to me. We’re going to keep fighting until we are free, or we are dead.”

  Patric’s eyebrows arched with surprise. He would never have expected such forceful words to come out of that girlish mouth.

  He nodded his agreement. “I hope I can have as much conviction as you do one day.”

  “You will.”

  Patric looked at her, squinting as if the room had suddenly become bright. Sophia stepped back and her father placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Time to go, my girl.”

  He looked at Patric and Father DeMarco. “If that man is truly a liar in league with the devil, send him to hell where he belongs.”

  Father DeMarco swallowed nervously. “That will be up to God alone. But I will not rest until he is brought to ruin. The world will see just how deep Satan’s deceptions can go.”

  Dr. Rosetta nodded thoughtfully. He seemed to want to say something more, but instead he just exhaled through his nose and disappeared through the door with Sophia. Their footsteps, his heavy thuds and her lighter pattering, faded down the stairs and the room fell silent.

  Father DeMarco glanced around the tiny apartment. It consisted of one bedroom, a living room, and a minuscule kitchen with an adjacent washroom and toilet. The walls of the living room were lined with boxes of dry goods, mostly pasta, rice, and flour. He looked briefly at Patric’s bandaged hands and knew that he would have to be the one shouldering housekeeping duties. An uncomfortable realization crept over him as he realized that Patric would probably need help performing even basic human functions, like dressing and undressing and going to the bathroom. He felt a tightness in his stomach at the thought of what an inconvenience Patric would be while he was undertaking this crusade.

  Almost immediately, he felt the sting of conviction.

  This man is not an inconvenience. He is a lost soul and he needs your help.

  With gentle eyes, he turned to Patric and said, “I think you’re a very brave man, Patric.”

  “Why?” Patric asked.

  “For staying here with me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it won’t be pleasant, especially for you with your injuries.”

  Patric lifted his bandaged hands. He studied them as if reading something inscribed on his palms, then said, “To be honest Father, I’ve never felt more lost in my life. I don’t know what I want; I don’t know what I believe. I don’t even know why I’m staying here instead of leaving. I guess it’s because you’re my only real friend.”

  Father DeMarco smiled warmly, lifting his cheeks to force the tears back inside his eyes. “I’m glad that you consider me to be your friend, Patric. And since we’re being honest, I never thought I would be allied with a man who used to worship Satan.”

  Patric opened his mouth to correct him, to say that he hadn’t officially renounced his beliefs, but the words withered on his tongue. In a lightning-quick moment, he searched his soul and realized that the priest was right. He used to worship Satan, but now he couldn’t imagine kneeling before a pentagram or reciting incantations. The Patric that used to do those things seemed like a completely different person, like a character from a story read long ago and almost forgotten.

  He looked down at his hands again. This new Patric had been through hell and survived. The fact that he was even alive was a miracle. Whose miracle, he couldn’t say. But he knew one thing: he was finished with kneeling. Whether it was before God, Satan, or just himself, he would stand on his feet and face the truth, rather than bow his head with blind acceptance.

  “Father,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  Patric’s iron facade melted and a sheepish blush crept over his face. “I…I need to go to the bathroom…”

  Father DeMarco blinked, then drew a quick breath as he understood the request. “Of course, my son,” he answered gently. “Come with me.”

  ****

  Christine kept her eyes focused on the back of Commander Deyron’s head as she was led through dark, cramped corridors. She imagined ramming every possible penetrating object through the relatively soft bone where the base of his skull met his spinal column. Blood would spurt across her hands and he would collapse on the floor, writ
hing with electric spasms of death...

  “Move!”

  She gasped as a rough hand crashed between her shoulder blades and propelled her forward. The strong smell of gasoline fumes invaded her nose and she stifled a sneeze.

  A quick survey of the room revealed its identity as a garage, housing a handful of military vehicles, along with stacks of tires, shelves full of oil cans and spare parts, and several pressurized tanks lining the walls.

  “Move!” the gruff voice commanded again.

  Christine turned around to glare at the ape looming over her. She made no attempt to disguise the hatred in her eyes. The metal cuffs clamped tight around her wrists bit into her skin as she unconsciously flexed her arm muscles.

  The giant took note of her dark expression and his lip curled in a sneer. He brought his face close to hers. “Don’t make any trouble, little girl, or I’ll send you to meet your father.”

  Christine’s nostrils flared and she lunged forward in an attempt to bash her forehead against the man’s nose. But a strong hand gripped her neck and jerked her back. She whirled around to see Commander Deyron’s chilling smile.

  “Mm-mm-mmm,” he scolded, wagging his finger in her face. “Don’t listen to Anton. He doesn’t have authority over you. I do. And I can assure you, if you make trouble, we will certainly not send you to meet your father. We will keep you here on Earth in tremendous, constant pain.”

  Christine could feel the rage boiling in her heart. Hot tears stung her eyes. “What do you want with me?” she snapped. “Just kill me and be done with it. I can’t help you.”

  Again, Commander Deyron waved his finger. “Now, now, don’t lie to me. I know you know something. I don’t think Daddy would keep his little girl completely in the dark, especially when she was essentially his right-hand man.”

  Christine only glared at him. In an instant, her imagination saw her spring forward, grab his gun from its holster while delivering a knee to his groin, roll across the floor and jump to her feet before anyone could react, fire three precision shots into the fuel tanks stacked against the wall, then dive into a vehicle and roar away as the garage erupted in blazing balls of fire…