by S. S. Segran
The Sentry complied. Tegan got out and ran over to the Bedouin. Jag watched as she flashed the man a wide smile and started chatting with him. He let her stroke the camel, then took a photo of her with the animal. She passed him a few coins, then asked him something. He beamed and nodded. Tegan stood beside him, held out her phone at arm’s length, and snapped a picture. The man looked undeniably happy. When Tegan passed him a few more shekels, surprise and then joy radiated from him.
Jag smiled as he watched his friend and the Arabic man. It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
Tegan ran back. She didn’t say anything to the others but waved to the Bedouin and his camel as Marshall put the car in drive.
“Okay, I’ve got this figured out,” Aari said a few moments later, pointing at a hill with a long green sign stretching across it. “Those are altitude markers. Where the rest stop is, that’s sea level. Altitude was zero. As we keep going down toward the Dead Sea, more markers are probably gonna pop up as the altitude drops.”
“Makes sense,” Mariah said. “The Dead Sea is below sea level.”
They returned to the highway, cruising along until they came upon a sign indicating Jericho was to the left. Marshall continued straight. “Food’s coming up, Kody,” he said. “I swear I can hear your stomach growl from here.”
Kody sighed dramatically. “It’s an embarrassing problem, really.”
To the right, there was hardly anything noteworthy. To their left however, no space was wasted. There were small stores, a café, empty parking grounds and numerous lots with rows upon rows of clay sculptures, fountains and flowerpots, beside which were lines of potted plants and trees. A few camels rested by the roadside, watching unruffled as the SUV sped past.
“What’s all this?” Jag asked. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
“Tourists often come this way on their way to the Dead Sea,” Marshall explained. “I guess these folks cater to them, hoping to make a living and—ah, here we go. The Last Chance Restaurant.”
They turned left off the asphalt road and onto loose gravel. Despite sitting at the very back of the SUV, Kody was the first one out of the car and into the quaint yellow building, leaving Jag and the others to catch up to him.
Inside, Jag’s olfactory just about overloaded with the delightful aromas of Middle Eastern cuisine. He reached out to grasp Kody’s shoulder as a sudden wave of hunger crashed onto him. Kody gave a knowing grin as if to say ‘Welcome to my world’.
The man behind the counter, a cheery, tanned fellow with a whitening beard greeted them enthusiastically in near-perfect English. “Shalom! Welcome, friends!”
“Thank you,” Marshall said. “Got a table for six?”
The man spread his arms out, merrily showing off the cozy, though near-empty, restaurant. “I think we can squeeze you in.”
As they pulled a couple of tables together, the man glanced at the respirator mask Tegan had strapped to her leg. “What’s that for, young lady?” he asked kindly.
“Can’t be too safe with the disease going around,” she replied.
The man’s cheery appearance faltered a bit. “You’re right, unfortunately. Business has been down the past few days around here, but people still come and go. Got a need for some normalcy, some fun.” He passed them their menus, took down their orders of falafels and shawarmas, and offered them drinks. He then turned to Marshall. “And for you, sir, a nice cold beer?”
The Sentry gathered up the menus and returned them to the man. “I’ll just stick with iced water, thanks.”
Once the server left, Kody, sitting beside Marshall, poked the blond man’s arm. “You can have a drink. One of us can drive.”
“I think your parents would kill me if they found out I let you drive because I decided to order booze. Besides, I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?”
“To perform our duties as Sentries, we need to be clear-minded and present at all times, and completely in control of all our faculties. I’d say drinking and drugs kind of inhibit that. And”—he slung an arm around Kody’s neck in a headlock—“I would wholeheartedly advise all of you against it as well. Being the Chosen Ones and all that. Agreed?”
Kody flailed. “Gak! Agreed!”
The Sentry regarded the boy warmly and released his hold. “Good.”
Jag, sitting between Tegan and Mariah, rubbed their backs. “You two doing okay?”
Mariah nodded, but Tegan was distracted by her phone. Jag peered over her shoulder and saw her changing her lock screen photo to the picture of her and the Bedouin. She caught him looking at her phone and slid it into her pocket, then her voice sounded in his head. Peekaboo, Sasquatch. Can you hear me?
Oof, it’s been a long while since we’ve communicated this way.
Yeah. Sorry. Don’t really feel like talking right now.
All good. I’m actually glad you reached out. He paused. I… I’ve been thinking.
What about?
The fact that you’re usually more driven by logic than emotion. I’m the other way around most of the time. Or even if I’m acting out of logic, emotions can overpower me.
She squinted at him. Continue.
It’s like you’re the Spock to my Kirk.
I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I hope this isn’t turning into a session of Dr. Phil.
No, nothing like that. He paused again. She’d most likely punch him in the face if he continued. To himself, he thought, Spock would make a better leader—but I should shut this down. Don’t entertain it. To Tegan, he said, You know what, never mind. Ignore me. I’m just hungry.
She shot him a weird look. You okay?
I’m good. Look, lunch is here.
Their meals arrived, warm and overflowing with delectable aromas. Not wanting to waste a second more than was necessary to get to Masada, they inhaled their falafels and shawarmas and downed their drinks.
“Enjoy your day!” their host boomed from the bar.
“Thanks!” Marshall said, holding the door open as the friends filed out. “You too.”
Soon they found themselves on yet another long stretch of desert highway. The GPS guided them south onto Highway 90 with a sign pointing toward Masada. As they rounded a curve, greenery gradually appeared, as did signs of life. To Jag’s right, three white flags bearing the Star of David between two blue lines waved in the gentle breeze. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d seen the Israeli flag flown since landing just a few hours prior.
A date palm plantation was replaced by mountains. To the left, Jag could just make out the Dead Sea in the distance. The car whizzed past another sign. “Qumran,” Jag read aloud. “Whoa, look at how crowded it is over there.”
“This is where they found the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Aari explained, face up against his window to get a look at the people climbing out of tour buses. “Nearly a thousand different ancient texts were discovered in eleven caves here. It’s considered one of the great archeological finds.”
“Ancient texts of what?” Tegan asked.
“A lot of them are Biblical. They found things like the oldest copies of the Hebrew Bible, and even one of the earliest known copies of the Ten Commandments. There are also scrolls depicting what Jewish life was like during the Second Temple period, which was… agh, I can’t remember when the exact timeline is, but it’s between a few hundred years B.C. and I think 70 A.D. There are even scrolls that talk about the final battle at the End of Days.”
“End of Days, huh?” Jag repeated. “Is that why there are so many people visiting Qumran now?”
“Possibly,” Marshall chimed in. “I don’t think those folks back there are your typical tourists. They’re probably more like religious groups. Guess it’s beginning to feel a bit like Armageddon.” He clucked his tongue. “Temples, synagogues and churches around the world will start experiencing a groundswell of believers in the coming months, I guarantee it.”
“Praying can be comforting,” Tegan s
aid. “But we need to follow that with action.”
“And that’s where the five of you come in.”
“No pressure.”
“No pressure at all.”
The Dead Sea finally came into full view. “It’s gorgeous!” Mariah exclaimed.
Jag had to agree. Though he hated swimming in salt water, he was tempted to take a dip in the shimmering blue depths of the hypersaline sea. But there’s no time for fun, he thought.
They rocketed by the Ein Gedi nature reserve as the GPS showed that the group was fast approaching Masada. Jag sat forward readily. The mountains continued to stretch to the right and yet another sign blurred past. Jag knocked on his window rapidly. “That said Masada!”
“Keep your shirt on,” Marshall chided. “You’re making me restless.”
The mountains slowly began to edge back, as if distancing themselves from the friends and the Sentry. Then, there was a sudden eruption from the teenagers. They whooped, and Jag hollered, “There it is!”
There was a distinct sound of several seatbelts unbuckling as the Sentry steered the car off the highway toward the large tourist center and parked in the near-empty lot; the building’s exterior almost matched the sandy color of the historic mesa behind it.
Marshall removed the key from the ignition and pulled on his gray ball cap. “Let’s go.”
23
Tegan picked up a tour map of Masada inside the bright, polished visitors’ center and hurried after the others as they loped through the building to get to the cable car, forgoing the charming little museum and an audio-visual display about Masada’s history. A smiling man behind a counter advised them to board the next car, as the last ride back for the day was in two hours. The center was fairly empty, making the place seem eerily deserted.
I knew tourism would be down, but this is crazy, Tegan thought. There’s just one family here. Wait, what’s that?
She veered away from the others to study a granite-gray model of the mountaintop fortress. It looked exactly as their research had shown; they’d scoured photos upon photos of the place and studied any map that was available to them to try and identify the cave in which the box of seeds might be hidden. Every member of the group knew Masada in detail, theoretically, but Tegan was still eager to see the real thing with her own eyes.
She circled the model, hoping to spot the caves they’d singled out as possibilities, all of which were on the southeastern slope of the mesa. The cable car would take them to the northeast sector and drop them by the remains of Herod’s grand, three-tiered palace; they’d only have to follow the fortress walls to reach the other end of the plateau.
Unable to properly distinguish the caves, she gave up and ran to catch up to the group as they went out back to an open platform where a cable car awaited them at the base station. Tegan, relieved that they had a roomy car to themselves, stepped into the glass gondola first. With the disease going around, I’d hate to be crammed in with tourists like sardines.
The ground below her withdrew as they ascended at an angle. They traversed over the Snake Path, an ancient dirt track that zig-zagged from the fort to the base of the mesa, in silent observation. Tegan saw a lone couple trekking down, having finished their tour of the two-acre fort.
The cable car docked a few minutes later. They marched onto a wooden pathway to the left and climbed the steps to the main entrance to the fortress.
“Look at this place,” Aari breathed.
Before them sprawled a flat expanse of land. The ruins of the Herod’s other residence lay some two hundred yards ahead. Known as the western palace, it was where Herod was said to have conducted his business. Tegan knew from memory that the king’s throne room sat in one corner of the palace. Next to it stood the remnants of an ancient Byzantine church.
To their right was the northern complex, which had housed an administrative building, a quarry, a commandant’s headquarters, and storerooms among many other things. The northern palace with its three terraces, perched on the steep slopes right behind it, out of view.
Kody pulled the brim of his cap lower over his eyes. “You know, it’s a lot barer than I thought it would be.”
“This fortress is over two thousand years old,” Aari said hastily, “and it’s seen its fair share of conflicts. If we could get closer we’ll see a lot more—”
“Nope.” Jag shepherded them all in the opposite direction. “Not today, brother.”
They trooped along the eastern wall, rubbernecking past the rubble to view the glossy blue waters of the Dead Sea below. Tegan smiled to herself. For something with such a grisly name, it looks really pretty from here.
A handful of tourists meandered about, snapping photos and taking videos, looking generally at ease. Nothing like being in the middle of nowhere, away from the noise and problems of the world. Tegan looked on ruefully as a young couple strolled by. Any one of them could be sick right now, or they could get sick, or someone they know could. Ach, I hope we can find the cure. We don’t need any more unnecessary deaths and endless heartaches. Her gaze wandered to Jag as he walked ahead between Marshall and Kody. Poor guy. Not one word from him about his grandmother’s passing since we left home. He’s still angry… it’s seeped into his bones now.
The meager fragments of two small palaces stood near the center of the plateau. A few people sat on the rocks, taking in the stunning view of the desert and the sea. Tegan nodded a polite hello to them and they grinned back.
“Tegan,” Jag called suddenly.
She looked up at him. He pointed at a bird balanced on the rubble near the tourists, barely longer than the distance from her wrist to the tips of her fingers. Its plumage was a lustrous black with an orange strip on either wing. Tegan stared at Jag in blank confusion, then got his meaning. Oh, right!
The friends and the Sentry settled beside the tourists. Tegan closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, she found herself observing through the eyes of the bird. Alley-oop! Come on! Up you go, you little thing.
Having full motor control of the creature, Tegan took off, soaring above the heads of everyone below. The slight breeze ruffled through the bird’s feathers as she guided it toward the southeastern slope of Masada. She banked left, taking a thorough, long look at the cavities in the mountainside; the friends hadn’t been able to gather how many caves there were exactly, so their next best option was to have Tegan reconnoiter from the air.
Tegan approached one of the caves and hopped inside. Agh, the setting sun’s on the other side on the mountain—it’s too dark to see anything in here.
She hopped back out of the cave, took flight, then severed the mindlink with the bird. The others were waiting expectantly for her report when she returned to herself. “I counted eight openings,” she said. “They’re about twenty to thirty feet apart, although a couple looked too small to be caves.”
“Did you get in and check them out?” Jag asked.
“It was too dark to see much inside.”
Jag cursed quietly. “Then we’ll have to check each one. Are there footholds and handholds that we can use?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll have to wait till everyone’s gone,” Marshall muttered. “Or we won’t be able to get into the caves without drawing attention.”
“You mean we’re staying past closing?” Tegan asked, alarmed. “If that’s the case, we need to move the car. Leaving it in the parking lot is bound to raise suspicion.”
“I’ll do it,” Jag said, holding out his hand to Marshall.
The Sentry slapped the keys into his palm. “Be quick.”
“Hey, that’s my specialty.”
Once Jag took off, the group scouted for a place to lie low. The ruins of the small fort at the southern tip of the plateau provided some feasible cover to slouch behind. Tegan transmitted their location to Jag, then she and Mariah settled against the low wall of rubble next to Marshall. Kody and Aari sat on the Sentry’s other side, making sure to stay out of view of a
railed pathway that circled behind them.
For the first time, Tegan was able to properly admire the view of the desert and the Dead Sea in the distance. Aari had mentioned during their research that the water levels at the popular tourist spot receded every year. Now that she gazed upon it from her vantage point, she had to admit that while it was striking, it wasn’t exactly the spectacle she’d hoped it would be.
“Do you think there are guards who come up here after hours?” Mariah asked.
“I don’t know,” Marshall said. “Considering the state of the world and the fact that Israel is already in a pretty volatile position, it’s possible.”
“Plus, this is a historical landmark for the Jews,” Aari added. “Combined, I’d say they would have some form of security up here.”
The sound of wrapper crinkling made everyone look to Kody, who munched happily on a protein bar. “Want some?” he asked.
Aari prodded the bar away. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Always prepared when it comes to food,” Mariah sighed. “And still, he hardly gains weight.”
“Victor gave me some of these before he left the Lodge,” Kody said. “Told me these would last me better than the other stuff. Boy, was he right.”
At the mention of the Sentry from Canada, Tegan turned to Marshall. “We haven’t heard any news from Victor’s end. It’s been more than a few days since we saw him, hasn’t it?”
Marshall shrugged, combing a hand through his styled hair. “I hardly hear from the guy to begin with. He usually gets a mission and goes on total radio silence for a while.”
“How do you know if each other’s okay, then?”
“Our network’s a bit funky. The original Sentries put a system in place that allows us the chance of knowing a Sentry who knows another that we don’t. And with technology, it’s even easier now. Like, Deverell, Gareth and I are in a text group. They spam it with funny photos—what do you guys call them, memes?—and interesting articles, so I know they’re fine. Victor, on the other hand, will be in touch maybe once or twice a month. Well, more so now because of everything that’s going on.”