The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1)

by John Triptych

  “That is good. With the way things are going we will need everyone in shape.”

  David placed his cup down onto the coffee table. “Is it really that bad? What happened in the Knesset today?”

  Ariel sighed and leaned back on the couch. He had been a government minister for as long as David knew him. “Oh, you know, the usual infighting and arguing. With all the kvetching we have, it’s a surprise we ever get anything done there these days. The truth is, we won’t have anyone to depend on but ourselves. Israel will always have to fight her own battles, I’ve told them that over and over again.”

  “So the Americans won’t help us then?”

  “The Americans have their own problems. They have lost most of their overseas troops and they have taken a beating in their homeland as well,” Ariel said. “In fact, they are asking us for help— they have requested that if we come across any American soldier or civilian that we help them to get back to the US, as if we even could. The prime minister has tasked the government to see if we could make an emergency evacuation by sea if our northern border is threatened.”

  “I don’t think we have enough naval assets for a seaborne evacuation of all Israeli citizens,” David said. “Even if we did, where would we be going to?”

  Ariel shook his head. “That’s what I told them, but they wouldn’t listen. We could be looking at a second exodus, David. We may have to initiate a second Jewish Diaspora as our people will live among gentiles once more. An even worse case scenario is we end up as captives of a resurgent Babylon. I would have never thought this was possible just a few days ago. Now, it feels that the tide of history has once again turned against us. We fought so hard to have a land that is finally ours and now it seems it was all for nothing.”

  “Yes, it is bad. The Palestinians are in full revolt. The call up for reserves is almost complete yet I’m still here, waiting for orders. All my other colleagues are either in Jordan or in the West Bank. I want to do something, Uncle.”

  Ariel took another piece of baklava from the box. He knew it was bad for him, but he always had a habit of eating more in times of stress. “I was born three years before Yom Ha’atzmaut, our day of independence. That was when the entire Arab world rose up against us. But I was too young to remember the details, other than hiding along with the other children in a special room somewhere in the kibbutz where I was born in when they would attack. During the time of the Six Day War, I was a young man who fought with the paratroopers when we finally recaptured Jerusalem. All that is now a distant memory now when compared to this enormous threat we are facing. Tell me, David, have you heard of the term devil’s advocate?”

  “I have heard of the phrase. I know it means adopting a contrarian position.”

  “Have you heard of it within intelligence circles at all?”

  David thought about it for a minute, then he shook his head. “No, why?”

  Ariel sipped on more coffee in order to moisten his lips. “Let me tell you a story. After the Six Day War, we thought we were unbeatable. Israel knocked out the Arab nations we fought against so quickly, we thought that there was very little threat to us in the future, and we were permanently secure. Then Yom Kippur happened six years later. The Egyptians had caught us by surprise so by the time we started mobilizing, it was too late. As you well know, we normally fight by attacking the enemy first, destroying their offensive firepower before they could be brought to bear against our tiny nation. During the Yom Kippur War, we were unable to do it and we took a lot of casualties. We came very close to defeat in that war, David. Two of my brothers died and I still miss them terribly to this day. We were able to overcome the enemy but at great cost. After that war, there was a full reassessment of our intelligence agencies and it was found that we relied too much on majority consensus and groupthink. Therefore, we needed to reorganize AMAN, the IDF’s military intelligence agency, in order to prevent overreliance on one-sided intelligence gathering and analysis. We therefore created a devil’s advocate division within AMAN. They were a special unit and they were specifically tasked with to provide a counterpoint, a contrary position in order to have a different opinion so that every and any possibility would be considered, not just those belonging to the majority. Do you understand that?”

  David’s eyes had widened. “I do indeed, Uncle. So this means that even remote possibilities to our intelligence reports would be considered and not just thrown away into a rubbish pile then?”

  “Exactly,” Ariel said. “When reports started to come in with regards to what was happening in Iraq and in other places, our devil’s advocate team in AMAN proposed a radical intelligence report on the type of enemy we will be facing soon.”

  “From just reading reports in the Institute, I can hardly believe what they have been saying,” David said. “Many people in my office just cannot believe it either. The old gods have returned? Can you believe that, Uncle?”

  “I can tell you that AMAN now believes it. They didn’t at first, of course, but the constant flow of information has apparently proved the devil’s advocate team right and we are now implementing their proposals,” Ariel said as he leaned on his cane and started to get up. “We need to go now. I’ve got something to show you.”

  As the car drove out of Beersheba and headed southeast towards the small city of Dimona, David sat in the backseat beside Ariel and started reading the latest reports, just as Ory kept his eyes on the mostly deserted highway. Israel was a small country and most of its citizens were called up by the military and deployed to the borders, so there were very few cars left still driving around. It took them less than fifteen minutes to arrive in front of a walled compound manned by armed IDF soldiers. After showing their identifications, they were let through past a reinforced metal gate with a machinegun emplacement. The car then drove into a covered driveway in front of what looked like an old factory building.

  Ory stopped the car and helped his uncle out. David kept holding the stack of reports in his hand as he got out of the other side of the vehicle. “What is this place, Uncle Ariel?” he said.

  Ariel walked up to the front of the building as he led with his cane as Ory stayed by the car. “You’ll see, come on and follow me,” the old man said.

  Although he let his uncle lead the way, the old man was so slow that David was able to walk slowly beside him. “These reports are saying that the Babylonian gods now rule over Iraq and are heading southwards. If the US military couldn’t stop them, what chance do we have?”

  “You’ll see,” Ariel said as they started walking along a bare corridor. “Have you heard of the name Khaled Hadawi?”

  “Of course,” David said. “Who hasn’t? Hadawi has been all over the news for years and even more so now. He is the famous Palestinian sculptor, known worldwide for his art even though most Muslims frown on it. But the latest news is that the Palestinians say he was kidnapped by us and of course we are denying those reports.”

  Ariel kept a straight face while he walked slowly. “The reports are true. We did take him,” he said.

  David arched his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Why would we want to kidnap an artist for? Hadawi isn’t a radical.”

  Ariel stopped in front of a metallic double door. There was a strong, earthy smell coming from it. “We didn’t exactly kidnap him. We asked him if he could help us. Since Muslims frown on idolatry, we had to tell him the real reason for it and so in the end he agreed … sort of,” he said before pointing at the door. “Go ahead, open it.”

  David pushed at the double doors and they gave way. As he looked out into the main hall he gasped. For a few minutes he just stood there, not sure if what he was seeing was real. Finally, he walked through the open doorway and started to look closer at what they were creating.

  All around him were gigantic clay statues. Almost twenty feet tall, they looked vaguely humanoid in shape, with large heads attached directly onto broad shoulders. They had long, ape-like arms extending almost to the floor and short legs
ending in stubby feet. They looked like huge gorillas made out of reddish clay. Around a dozen sculptors seemed to be working on the more detailed aspects of the clay statues while a number of workers with plastic buckets were either applying more clay on the unfinished parts, or were keeping the statues moist by spray hosing them with water. David noticed that there were giant humidifiers attached to the ceiling and there were elevated walkways above the main floor, with fully-armed IDF soldiers wandering about.

  Ariel walked up beside him. “Well, what do you think about the plan that our devil’s advocate team proposed?”

  David turned to look at him with wild, surprised eyes. “You- you’re creating golems.”

  Ariel smiled faintly. “I knew you would recognize them. After all, you did attend a graduate course in anthropology over at Harvard all those years ago. If I recall, your instructor was the great Professor Paul Dane.”

  “I heard he was last seen in Stonehenge before England was overrun. He is probably dead by now.”

  Ariel smirked. “Oh no. Not dead. He made it out of London and is now back in America, I believe. Now you can see why we have redeployed your colleagues in Mossad for other missions but we kept you waiting until now- you are the one who is qualified for special tasks such as these. Tell me, from your studies, what do you know about golems?”

  David turned back to look at the statues once more. “They are creatures made from clay and magically given life. Tradition states that they are the mythical protectors of the Jewish people. According to the Talmud, Adam, the first man, was created from clay and was nothing more than a robot until God breathed a soul into him. Golems are unable to speak and can only be commanded by their master.”

  “Very good, David,” Ariel said. “When I talked to your katsa in the Mossad, your case officer said you were the one who could deal with this since you’re one of the few in the Institute that has intimate knowledge of anthropology. This is in addition to your skills as a field agent. No one outside of the prime minister and select members of the Knesset, the IDF special division and the Mossad know about this project. With the public focused on events at our borders and the Palestinians, then we have a chance to keep this project under wraps until we are ready to deploy our own supernatural soldiers to fight the mystical forces that threaten Israel.”

  David turned back to look at his uncle again. “But how can you even get this to work? Assuming that our enemies are truly paranormal in nature, how can you animate these golems? Without some sort of divine guarantee or some help from God, then these statues will be nothing more than lumps of red clay.”

  “We have someone knowledgeable to guide us,” Ariel said. “From what he showed us, we believed we are on the right track.”

  “But who?” David said as he once again turned back to look at the golems and began to walk closer to them. As he started to walk among the workmen, he noticed that one sculptor in particular was putting up the finishing touches on one of the completed golems near the back of the hall. As he moved closer, the sculptor turned around and gazed at him with tired and pitiful eyes.

  David took one long look at him and gasped. It was Khaled Hadawi. The Palestinian artist had a metal chain clamped around his ankle and the other end of it was bolted down to the floor. The old man was unkempt, dressed in muddy overalls and looked exhausted. It looked like he could barely stand as his trembling hands clutched at his clay modeling tools. David reached out to him and the old man fell into his arms.

  Ariel sighed in disappointment and began to limp slowly towards them. “David, let him go. He has work to do.”

  “Please, help me,” Khaled begged as he could barely hold onto David’s shoulders.

  “Uncle,” David said as he supported Khaled in his arms while looking at Ariel. “This is wrong! He is being held here and it’s clear he is being worked to death, he must be freed and he must get some rest.”

  A booming voice was heard above, where the walkway was. “You there! Get away from him! Guards, separate those two!”

  Two IDF soldiers quickly came over and took Khaled away. David tried to stop them but a third soldier got in between them and drew his pistol. Ariel pushed himself to walk a bit faster until he got to David and led him away as the soldiers unchained Khaled, then they carried him into a side door and out of sight. The other workmen continued on as if nothing had happened.

  Ariel kept a hold of David’s arm. “What are you doing? Do not interfere.”

  David was trembling with rage. “We cannot be doing this. This is illegal!”

  The voice above them shouted once more. “Silence! You are nothing more than a guest here. If you do not behave, you will be thrown out!”

  David looked up and for the third time today, his eyes widened with surprise. Standing above them on the upper walkway was a man he didn’t think he would ever see in public again. Rabbi Elijah Ba’al was a truly controversial figure, he was once a very influential member of the Chief Rabbinate of Israel, the supreme authority for Judaism in the country, until he was forced out because of his radical views about the Talmud. Rabbi Ba’al had been accused of heresy and was officially censured via herem, he was excluded from the Jewish rabbinic community by way of being shunned and ignored. For twenty years it was rumored that he had begun to gather his own followers, but no one in mainstream Judaism paid him any attention and he had drifted away from the public eye. Now he was here and obviously in charge.

  The two men watched him slowly walk down the metal stairs and onto the ground floor as he turned and started moving towards them. The rabbi was wearing a white robe and underneath that he wore a black coat and trousers, his jet black yarmulke was on the top of his head. Tall and stocky, with a large, puffin nose, fiery red beard with streaks of silver, oval spectacles and a perpetual grim visage, Rabbi Ba’al looked like he just stepped out of an ancient temple, his tzitzit dangling out of his front trouser pocket. David could see that he had huge hands, like that of a bricklayer.

  Rabbi Ba’al walked right up to them and pointed a stubby finger. “Ariel, who is this man, and why is he disrupting my project? Can you both not see that the country is about to be invaded and what I am doing is the only thing that can save us? How dare you come in here and do this!”

  David was beet red with rage. “You are keeping a man here against his will. You illegally kidnapped him! Don’t you know he is one of the reasons why the Palestinians in the West Bank are rioting right now?”

  “The only time I could care about an Arab is when they are useful to me,” Rabbi Ba’al said. “In this case, he is useful to Israel too. He is a very good sculptor. Without him, we would be so far behind this whole project would have been delayed for weeks. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  David sneered. “You’re nothing but a heretic and a fraud. I do not believe you can even animate these clay statues. The Knesset may believe your lies, but I don’t.”

  Ariel tightened his grip on the younger man’s arm. “David, please. The rabbi has a plan. We we’re given a demonstration of it. I know you are upset but you need to control your temper. This is not the time to go on a morality crusade. Israel’s existence is in the balance. We will deal with the ethical consequences in the future.”

  David looked at his uncle. “What demonstration? Can’t you see that this man is nothing but a fraud? He is deceiving you all!”

  Rabbi Ba’al glared at him. “Fool! Despite all that’s happening in the world you still refuse to believe. Very well, follow me.” With that, the rabbi quickly turned around and started to walk towards a large door at the opposite side of the hall from where they came in. The two men followed behind him.

  As they got in front of the door, Rabbi Ba’al took out a set of keys from underneath his robe and unlocked the entrance. As he swung the door open, he bade the two men to go inside. David took his uncle’s arm and led him in. The interior was a smaller room that looked like a laboratory with the exception of a large fire pit at its center. At the center of
the smoldering crater of ash, there was apparently a transparent glass jar that was about two feet high and something was stirring inside of it. As David got closer he began to notice that there was some sort of creature inside and it was moving as it acknowledged his presence. For the fourth time that day, David’s eyes widened with shock and surprise. Inside the glass jar was a being that looked like a miniature man, it had a head, a pair of arms and legs and it had a face. But the creature had the features of a misshapen dwarf, one eye was bigger than the other, stunted legs, a curved spine and it had a hole where the nose should have been. Completely pale and hairless, it was no more than a foot tall and snarled at him with sharp, crooked teeth.

  David recoiled in horror. “T-that’s a homunculus! You created a homunculus!”

  The rabbi had closed the door behind them and had walked over with Ariel standing beside him. “This was the demonstration I made with select members of the Knesset and AMAN. I was disgraced by the Rabbinical councils years ago, but I have proven that my readings of the Kabbalah and my teachings are the truth. I shall be the one to save Israel and the Jewish people.”

  David shook his head. A part of him still couldn’t accept it. “How? How were you able to create such a thing?”

  “Ten years ago, I had found a clue as to where to find the original copy of the Sefer Yetzirah,” Rabbi Ba’al said. “My followers searched for a long time to pinpoint its location until we finally stumbled upon it by mere chance. It was in the possession of an old Arab antiquarian in Egypt and he did not want to part with it, saying that it was part of his family’s legacy to safeguard its contents. So myself and two of my most trusted assistants broke into his house one night to try and get it. He caught us in the act and I had to kill him.”

  David grimaced. “So you admit to murder then? And the other name for the Sefer Yetzirah is the Book of Creation, a very common book on Jewish mysticism that can be found in many libraries. You killed someone just to steal a stupid book that’s already widely published.”