by S. S. Segran
“Good point. Give me a sec.” Aari typed a new search entry and scrolled through the pictures and articles. The others hovered around him; he could almost smell their impatience.
At last he pushed the laptop away. “If they did find the box, there isn’t a single mention of it anywhere. Which is pretty peculiar, seeing as ancient seeds would be the one thing that would get both scientists’ and historians’ knickers in a bunch.”
“No mention of seeds at all?” Mariah repeated, downcast.
“They did find some, but unless Judean date palm seeds in clay jars are what we’re looking for, that’s not it.”
“So the box is still buried in the caves?” Kody asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We need to check it out,” Marshall said.
“There are a lot of caves. How do we find which—”
The Sentry held up his paper between two fingers. “That’s where the last piece of information comes in. The cave we’re looking for has a mark on the ceiling that’s shaped like a crescent moon. It’s supposedly located near a double cave.”
“A double…” A lightbulb switched on over Aari’s head. “I just read that. That’s where some remains were found, in a double cave at the southern slope of Masada.”
The energy in the room grew so palpable, he thought that electric sparks might go off if they moved an inch. Smiles began to form all around, lighting up the entire place.
Then Aari’s face fell. “Well, this is all fine and dandy, but so what if we get the seeds? Trees take a long time to mature. By then who knows how many people will have died.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Marshall said. “But when I asked Elder Nageau, he said that these seeds, once planted correctly, grow fast. Insanely fast. We’re talking four weeks, tops.”
Aari rubbed his temples. “Dema-Ki people, man. You guys have some crazy stuff. Borderline sorcery.” The side of his mouth curved up. “And I’m glad for it.”
“Even if that’s all true,” Tegan interjected, “a lot can happen in those weeks.”
“Which is why we need to find those seeds as soon as possible.” The Sentry slid his folded notes into the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m gonna start searching for flights. You guys should get packing. Fit as much as you can into a backpack, and maybe a carry-on just in case. We’re heading out as soon as we can.”
The friends trickled down to the main floor and stood in a circle, saying nothing, allowing the exhilaration on their faces to speak for them. Then they dispersed to begin packing.
In his room, Aari stared out of the huge windows at the snow-covered trees. He would miss the view and the Lodge. They’d been living in the French Alps for just over a week but the friends already considered it home. Even so, he was glad that they were heading out at last.
After all the waiting, all the training, all the preparation, he thought, this is it. The mission is finally about to begin. A slight thrill danced up his spine. I can’t wait.
22
Jag watched Ben Gurion Airport recede in the passenger-side mirror of the rented Ford Expedition. Almost immediately upon leaving the airport, the teenagers and Marshall had found themselves heading east, away from the city of Tel Aviv. Jag already had a feel of the pace of life by how aggressively the locals drove.
Airport security was ludicrously tight. There had been a three-hour delay as Israeli health authorities tested a new screening method pioneered by their own scientists on every passenger entering the country, taking blood samples and buccal smears—cheek swabs. The friends were relieved to receive a clean bill of health after the long wait.
The SUV accelerated under several overpasses before matching with the flow of traffic. Jag could see clusters of red-roofed buildings scattered amongst stretches of farmland. What a contrast, he mused. Fertile farms against an arid landscape. A curious assortment of rundown houses standing next to well-appointed mansions caught his eye. Interesting disparity. Do people live like this across the country?
As he sat beside Marshall, quietly taking in the passing scenery, he was struck by a brief flashback to their road trip to his grandparents’ farm in Kansas just a few months before, after Tegan and Mariah had broken out of the New Mexico Sanctuary where they’d been held by Tony Cross, Reyor’s personal lapdog.
Jag slumped in his seat, feeling his mood darken at the thought of Tony. It was bad enough that Tony had abducted the girls and tried to capture him, Kody and Aari. But then Jag had lost his grandmother as a result of the crop destructions over the summer, and it left a searing void that continued to haunt him. All the love from his family and thoughtful advice from Elder Nageau had done little to quench his thirst for retribution. If they couldn’t get to Reyor first, Tony would have to suffice.
“The weather’s much cooler than I expected,” Kody noted out of the blue from the back of the seven-seater SUV, yanking Jag out of his reverie.
“It’s almost November, you doorknob,” Aari, in the middle row, retorted. “And get your hand out of my window, will you?”
Jag glanced in the rearview mirror in time to catch Kody pulling his hand back, and saw Mariah studying a travel brochure she’d picked up at the airport. “Israel’s so tiny,” she said, “According to this, it’s barely the size of New Jersey, and yet the amount of conflict that goes on around here is absurd. Wars, skirmishes… Why?”
Aari, beside her, glanced at the map. “Many reasons, really—history, politics, religion. This is, after all, ground zero of the monotheistic world. I mean, more than half of humanity calls this region their Holy Land.”
“Okay, well… Why does it all happen here? Why not somewhere else?”
“Funny you should ask that. I asked Mr. Gregson that exact question once after History class. He answered my question by holding up his snack.”
Kody’s voice popped from the very back. “Snack?”
“Sit down, Scooby. Gregson held up an apple. He said asking why this part of the world has turned out special is like asking why the stem of the apple is at the center and not somewhere else on the fruit. Then he walked over to the world map on the wall, asked me to point out Israel, and weirdly, it’s just about in the center of the map. For some reason, historically and collectively, when we defined west and east, this… this region ended up nearly smack in the middle. I’m not saying that it’s providence or anything like that, but just like the stem on the apple, it is what it is, I guess.”
“This is also a land of mystery and prophecies,” Marshall added as he pulled down the car’s sun visor. “It’s actually pretty interesting stuff.”
“For example?” Tegan asked.
“Like when it was said that the Jews would be exiled from the Kingdom of Ancient Israel and then return, and it would happen over and over. And that they’d go through a lot of tribulation. History aligns with that.”
“So it’s happened a few times, then.”
“Yeah. And they were definitely scattered, far and wide, and it was said that they’d return to Israel when the Messiah returns at the End of Days.”
Jag raised an eyebrow. “But they’re already back here, in Israel. So, what? Is it the End of Days?”
“It kind of does feel like it, doesn’t it?” Marshall shrugged. “The Jews really started returning when the Edict of Toleration was signed between the British and the Ottoman Empire in—”
“1844,” Aari finished. “Well before the formation of the State of Israel after the second World War.”
“Are you kidding me, Aari?” Mariah exclaimed, catching him off guard.
“Uh, what?”
“Seriously? The Edict of Proclamation in eighteen… whatever? I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but you? Oh, no, not you, Mr. Genius!”
Aari, trying not to smile, said, “You mean the Edict of Toleration…”
Mariah grabbed his head and shook it. “Give me your brain, dang it!”
The car filled with laughs as Aari pulled away. O
nce the merriment subsided, Marshall spoke up. “What you said was right, Aari. So, yes, it would seem that there are quite a few parallels to prophecies. If you believe in that sort of thing.”
Jag started to laugh again and couldn’t speak for a minute. He tried to collect himself and, still chuckling, said to his bemused friends, “I guess that’s ironic, isn’t it?”
“What is?” the Sentry asked.
“Ending all that with ‘if you believe in that sort of thing’. Look at us. We’re literally at the center of a major prophecy. We can’t really count ourselves as skeptics anymore, can we?”
There was a collective snort of laughter from his friends in the back. Even Marshall smiled. “No, I suppose not… Oh, hello, what’s this?”
The car rolled to a stop. Jag groaned as he looked at the long lines of vehicles ahead. “Look at this traffic!”
“The cars further ahead are moving,” Marshall said. “Maybe there’s been an accident.”
“Could be.” Jag looked at the time on the dashboard. 11:23 a.m. Well… As long as we get to Masada well before closing hours, we’re good.
He held his hand out the window, feeling the parched air on his skin, then turned around to take a good look at the others. They were anxious about what was to come, he knew, and did what they could to keep themselves occupied. Mariah had pulled out a novel and was already engrossed. Aari looked out at their rolling surroundings, seemingly lost in thought. Kody, in the back, flipped through one of his favorite old superhero graphic novels and shared an earbud with Tegan, who had her eyes closed.
It’s a good thing we got to rest at the Lodge, Jag thought. Dunno how much of that we’ll be getting from now on.
A discord of honking car horns erupted ahead, startling Jag. He heard yelling and shouting, though whether in Hebrew or Arabic he couldn’t tell.
“Head’s up,” Marshall murmured. He tapped the controls on his door and all the windows automatically closed. Jag leaned over to the Sentry’s side to get a better view of the situation.
A driver several cars ahead had jumped out of his vehicle and was running in their direction, screaming and pointing. Jag, befuddled, turned to look out his window. A face straight from the depths of hell smashed against the glass. Jag tried to pull away but was jerked back by his seatbelt, which locked with the sudden motion. His heart beat madly in his chest as he looked at the mess of a man that stared into their car. The man’s red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes were partially glazed. Crimson dripped from every orifice on his face. Saliva and specks of blood flew from his mouth. Through the gruesomeness, there was something in his expression that Jag couldn’t quite place, but it brought about a sorrow so deep he felt almost ill.
Marshall reached over, protectively placing his arm between Jag and the window. He seemed unfazed as he watched the demented man beat at the glass. “He’s sick.”
Two soldiers in olive green uniforms approached and trained their assault rifles on the man, shouting. He twisted around to face them, staying perfectly still as they approached. Jag’s eyes darted between the two parties, his hand on door handle, ready to move should help be needed, but Marshall gently removed it, shaking his head.
The man suddenly unleashed a feral cry. He flew toward the soldiers, ignoring their yells of warning. Two shots sounded. The man dropped to the ground, convulsing.
It took half an hour before the scene was dealt with by emergency responders and traffic began moving again. Neither the friends nor the Sentry spoke during the entire time, and it wasn’t until the vehicle was again cruising down the highway that Jag said, “He was scared. He was reduced to an animal, and he was sick and it was either fight or flight and he fought. Or he tried to. But he was scared and trying to find help.”
“There was nothing we could do,” Tegan said quietly. “If we’d stepped out, we could have gotten the disease. We’re vulnerable. It sucks, but it wasn’t our place to step in.”
Jag cupped his hands over his face. It’s like I was looking at a terrified child. And then a violent beast. Oh, my God.
“I’m gonna find a spot to pull over and disinfect your side of the car, Jag,” Marshall said. “For the time being, don’t roll down the window. You too, Aari.”
They passed a number of small towns until they found an empty gas station and pulled off the highway. The Sentry gave the SUV’s doors and windows a quick wash, then thoroughly scrubbed the exterior with a bottle of disinfectant. Jag got out to help but Marshall shooed him back into the vehicle.
Mariah sat with her hands pressed tightly between her knees, looking distraught. Jag rubbed her leg comfortingly. “’Riah?”
She stared into the distance, unblinking. “Do you remember when we got caught in the riot during the summer?”
“I do. Unfortunately.”
“You know, I’d never felt so sick and helpless in my life… until that man came up to your window and… and got shot.”
Jag, not knowing what to say, reached out to her and kissed the top of her head.
Marshall retuned and, as they veered back onto the highway, said, “I know I keep mentioning this, but make sure you’ve got your masks with you at all times.” He glanced at Jag briefly, then into the rearview mirror at the others. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you guys. You are too important. Don’t ever forget that.”
As strange as it felt to be the chosen ones, Jag knew Marshall was right. For the sake of bringing an end to a growing apocalyptic nightmare, we can’t take unnecessary risks.
Jag subconsciously slid his hand to his backpack on the floor. To avoid unnecessary attention, they’d opted not to bring their masks onto the flight, so Marshall had asked one of his friends from the Israel Defense Forces to meet them outside the airport arrivals area with new ones. The former commando supplied six full-face masks that were designed for protection from biological agents. Though bulkier than the ones they’d left behind, the group was relieved to receive them.
Traffic slowed as more residential and commercial buildings appeared. Jag checked the car’s GPS. “We’ve just entered Jerusalem, ladies and gents.”
Aari and Tegan were the most thrilled. They took out their phones, eagerly snapping photos. “Did you know,” Aari started to ramble, breathless from excitement, “that over four thousand years ago Jerusalem was called Urusalima, which means the City of Peace? Which is ironic because the amount of war and destruction Jerusalem has seen in its lifetime is beyond ridiculous. And did you know that there are over two thousand archeological sites here? And also, did you know that—”
“I’m just super stoked to be visiting a historical place that’s in one of my favorite video games,” Tegan said, bouncing in her seat. “Hey, Marshall, any chance we’ll be passing by Acre or Damascus? Or Masyaf?”
“Acre is behind us and to the north,” Marshall replied. “And Damascus and Masyaf are way north. In Syria.”
“I was kidding about the last two. I know they’re too far. But will we at least be passing the Dome of the Rock?”
“If only. Believe me, I really want to see all these places too, but with what happened to that man earlier, the disease has probably already found its way here. So we’re going to stick to our plan and avoid population centers as much as possible—which means we’re not driving into Jerusalem.”
“Ahh, bummer.”
“Hey, when this whole thing with Reyor is done and over with, I’ll gladly bring you guys back here for sightseeing and all the other good touristy stuff. As long as the world hasn’t burned down completely by then, of course.”
“I’m holding you to your word, Marshall.” Jag could hear a smile in Tegan’s voice as she spoke. “Don’t disappoint.”
The Sentry chuckled. “Love you too, kiddo.”
There were a few checkpoints along the way. Security was extremely tight but the six of them were always waved through without incident. Having American passports sure does help, Jag thought.
They left the district of Jerusale
m and coasted along the highway. Most of the traffic seemed destined for the city, leaving the lanes practically car-free. All around them was desert, a stretch of golden nothingness save for some shrubbery. The sun shone brightly, forcing Jag to pull down the sun visor. From the back of the SUV, he heard Kody clear his throat. Jag rolled his eyes good-humoredly, knowing what was coming.
“So it’s one in the afternoon…” Kody started slowly.
“Well,” Marshall said, “we’re a good distance from and crowds and I do see a restaurant coming up on the GPS.”
“Yes. Yesss.”
Mariah snickered. “You are a weird one.”
“Oh ho! Says the girl who spends her time fangirling over TV shows and novels.”
“Big talk, coming from a comic book geek!”
“Do you see the amount of superhero movies being made? And how popular they are?”
“Alright, I’ll see your popular superhero stuff and raise you my popular TV shows that gather millions of views each week.”
“You two do realize you’re both defending essentially the same things, right?” Aari commented lazily. “Movies, TV shows—so many of them are connected, and so many of them cross over. It’s like listening to two squirrels argue over whether acorns or pine nuts are better when in reality, they’re still talking about nuts. And while we’re on the topic, I’d like to say that you’re both nutty.”
Mariah and Kody grumped at him. Jag swapped amused looks with Marshall, then suddenly sat up straight. “What’s that?”
“I think,” Marshall said, “that is some kind of a rest stop.”
They turned onto a smaller road, surrounded by a stunning vista of the Judean Mountains. Next to a parking area, a large stone retaining wall with a long teal plaque read “SEA LEVEL,” with accompanying Hebrew and Arabic script.
“Check out the Bedouin,” Marshall said, nodding at a man garbed in a long white tunic and a red-and-white headdress standing next to a placid, colorfully-accessorized camel. “He probably lets tourists take photos for a small fee.”
“But I don’t see any tourists,” Tegan said. “And there probably aren’t going to be any for a while…” She trailed off. “Marshall, could you stop the car?”