Shadow Chaser

by Jerel Law

  Pressing through the jungle as fast as he could, he began to get a feel for the terrain and found himself moving with more confidence. It couldn’t be much farther now. He felt like he had moved at least the length of an entire football field, and hopefully farther.

  Jonah felt the ground change underneath his feet, and although he hadn’t noticed the drop in the landscape from where he had stood on the ridge, he realized he was moving down. Gradually at first, but then steeper down, and it grew even darker. The trees he had seen from up above had all stopped at the same height. But these trees, with branches shooting off in every twisted direction, grew deep down into the forest.

  There was no choice. No other route to take. If he was going to get to the other side, he would have to continue downward.

  The air cooled dramatically, and he felt a wet chill in his bones as he continued the descent. It appeared as if the entire jungle floor dropped down into blackness. Trees shot up from below, though, and Jonah had no choice but to lower himself down on one of the larger vines hanging off a tree limb.

  Okay, Elohim. I’m supposed to trust You. Well, here we go.

  He let himself down as quickly as he dared, in near-total darkness. He kept going, farther and farther, wondering if he was going to have to climb back out hand over hand on the other side of this chasm.

  His feet squished as he hit the wet ground. Although it was wet, it was flat, and he was able to walk, but he could barely see his hand in front of him. He held his arms out, zombie-like, to try to make sure he didn’t run into anything. Suddenly, he had the urge to turn backward and try to climb back up. But he quickly realized that he was here now. The only way to go was forward, through this darkness.

  Suddenly, he heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks. It sounded like the noise his bicycle tires made when they were leaking air. A hiss. It went on for a few seconds, then stopped.

  Jonah waited, holding his breath, to see if he could hear it again. As he was about to take another step forward, it started once more. Another hiss. It sounded like it was coming from ground level, but he couldn’t see anything around him. This time, though, it was louder, as if a half dozen tires were leaking all at once.

  He needed to be able to see. Grabbing at his side, he pulled his angelblade out. It cast a white light all around him.

  At first, it seemed as if the ground were moving. A sense of cold horror moved up through Jonah’s feet, into his legs and the rest of his body as he realized that, of course, the ground itself wasn’t moving.

  The rain forest floor was covered with snakes.

  Jonah held his sword in front of him and spun around, trying to find a path around them. But they were encircling him.

  There must have been hundreds, so many that he couldn’t see the dirt underneath them. They were slithering across one another, and they all looked the same—black, long, and some with their mouths open so he could see their sharp fangs. Most were curled and twisted, but he saw one stretched out that was longer than he was tall. Their scaly heads were triangular in shape, and he knew from science class that this meant they were very, very venomous.

  He hated touching snakes, even at the history and science museum back in Peacefield. When they brought out the snakes—and they only showed kids the ones the workers promised were safe—he would always hang in the back of the group and stuff his hands in his pockets.

  He gripped his sword tight and continued to spin in a circle, aware of the snakes that were behind him. Even worse, it appeared that more were emerging from the forest.

  “Are these even real?” he wondered out loud, thinking about the competition, with the fake fallen angels and arrows that didn’t disintegrate their target. But he remembered the pain he had felt in his shoulder and leg from the arrows that hit him earlier, even if they hadn’t left a mark.

  He heard a louder hiss behind him and felt his jeans snag and pull hard.

  “Oh man!”

  Spinning around, he swung his blade close to the ground, slicing through a snake that was rearing back. Its head landed on top of the other snakes, and he saw blood. Reaching down, he felt a hole in his jeans. They were real, all right.

  And they seemed to be getting angrier. They were circling him, tangled up and swarming over one another. At least five were rearing back, lifted off the ground and in attack position.

  “Aaahhh!” Jonah cried out as he swung his sword around in a circle. It met the heads of the snakes, sending them to their death. But others popped up immediately in their place.

  He swung again, with the same result. And once again, more snakes rose and bared their fangs at him, hissing and flicking their forked tongues. They seemed hungry, ready for a bite of human flesh and to sink their poison into his skin. Jonah began to wonder how long he could survive with a snakebite. But he wasn’t about to have just one snakebite—he could have a hundred within a matter of minutes.

  Could he make a run for it? He wondered if he could get through the snakes, running over the top of them, before they could sink their fangs into him. But how far did they go into the darkness? The hissing was so loud that he couldn’t hear anything else. Some of them were attacking each other, they were so thirsty for blood.

  He held his sword up higher, and something above caught his eye. A vine hanging down from one of the trees, high above, and out over the swirling snakes. Jonah glanced back down, waving his sword in the faces of those that were getting ready to attack him again. The vine was an almost impossible distance away. It seemed higher to him than the basketball goal back at the convent.

  “Think, Jonah, think!” he prodded himself. But if there was another option, it wasn’t coming to him.

  He took a deep breath, eyeing the vine again while maintaining a watch on the snakes. They were inching closer, and he was quickly running out of time.

  Come on, Jonah, you can do this.

  He shifted the sword to his left hand and swallowed hard. Bending his knees, he pushed off the ground with as much angel-powered force as he could muster.

  He snagged the bottom of the vine with three fingers and prayed that it wouldn’t break and send him into the snakes below. Somehow, it was holding!

  He held on with one hand, swinging slightly from the jump as the snakes rushed over underneath him. They were snarling, hissing, and mad.

  Jonah looked upward, knowing that he needed to climb, and fast. He didn’t want to extinguish his blade, but he needed his other hand. Shoving the sword against his side, it disappeared, and the forest went dark again.

  He tried to force the hissing noises out of his head as he reached upward. Hand over hand, he climbed until he had a better grasp of the rope and until he felt that he was out of reach of the snakes.

  Pulling out his sword again, he realized he was mistaken.

  “Oh boy,” he muttered.

  The snakes were rising along with him. Climbing, one on top of another, they were making a snake-built pyramid.

  Soon, they would be at his feet.

  Jonah began to swing, back and forth, back and forth. A little at a time at first. Kicking his legs, he began to move faster and faster. He swung over the snakes, now having to lift up his legs to stay out of reach of the highest snake.

  Okay, Jonah, it’s now or never!

  One more big swing.

  Then he let go of the rope.

  CAMPFIRE CONVERSATION

  He landed just past the last of the snakes, rolling onto the ground. A snake charged toward his face, but he rolled away. Hopping up, Jonah took his sword in his hands again and held it above him like a torch, running into the darkness.

  He bounded through a creek, over brush and rocks, weaving through trees as fast as he could. Finally, he stopped and dared to look behind him. There were no snakes in sight. Leaning against a tree, he sucked air in and out for a while, catching his breath.

  He wondered if Eliza and Jeremiah had to face snakes today too. Eliza hated them worse than he did. He hoped she didn’t hav
e to. Nathaniel had said they would each face tests specific to them. Testing all of their skills, and then some. He tried to brace himself for anything as he moved through the forest.

  The ground cover grew dense up ahead, and Jonah pushed through it to find himself standing in a small, circular clearing. He was still surrounded by trees, but the round area he was in was flat and open. Attached to their black, gnarled trunks were lit torches. Their flames danced and cast long, flickering shadows in every direction.

  “This is creepy,” Jonah said, pointing his sword out in front of him, trying to be ready for anything.

  Movement in the trees caught his eyes, and he stiffened. He heard rustling and the sound of branches snapping. Someone—or something—was coming into the circle.

  A tall man with a sword emerged from the woods. His golden breastplate shone against dark skin; his arms rippled with muscles as he tossed his blade from one hand to the next. The sword was curved with a sharp hook at the tip and looked appropriate for taking down Philistine soldiers, felling oak trees, or whatever else he needed to do. The man wore the clothes of a Roman soldier, but he seemed not so much like a soldier as a gladiator.

  This guy looks like he belongs in the Coliseum, Jonah thought.

  The swordsman leaned his bald head back and roared into the air, a war cry that caused Jonah’s hands to start trembling. He began moving toward Jonah, his sword raised.

  It’s only a test, remember, Jonah? As much as he tried to convince himself of that, though, this suddenly felt very, very real. But he knew that if he was going to get to the flag, he was going to have to get past this guy first.

  Help me do this, Elohim, he prayed.

  The man charged at Jonah with the golden blade out. Jonah steadied himself, ready for the attack, and raised his sword. The man swung down hard, a blow that Jonah met with his glowing angelblade, but that also sent him down to his knees.

  Quickly, Jonah pushed himself back up and countered the man’s strike with one of his own. Soon, they were going back and forth across the dirt, blades clashing against each other. Jonah managed to block every one of the man’s challenges, but he couldn’t seem to land any of his own.

  The swordsman attacked again, and as Jonah was blocking him, the man pressed himself low to the ground and swung his foot around. It met Jonah’s ankle, causing him to slam down to the ground, flat on his back. He raised his golden blade again, and in a flash, brought it down hard.

  Shrrrinng! The sound of metal on rock echoed through the woods. Jonah had just managed to roll away, and the sword connected with the dirt and stone beneath him. He kept rolling along the ground as the man continued to swing at him and miss.

  Jonah had to do something better than this or he wasn’t going to last much longer. This gladiator, or whoever he was, was strong, fast, and relentless, and if he didn’t do something fast, getting to the finish line of this race was going to be the least of his concerns.

  He summoned all the angel strength he had and pushed back up off the ground, using his blade to block a sword blow at the same time. It was time for Jonah to bring the attack to him.

  He began to swing the angelblade furiously, catching the swordsman off guard and pushing him back. The man’s arrogant smile had begun to fade now. Jonah saw he was gaining an advantage and pressed even harder. The man was growing tired and was putting all of his energy into blocking Jonah’s advances now, not even taking any swings of his own.

  Jonah locked swords with the man on the ground, twisted his own blade sharply, and wrenched the golden sword away from his grasp. It went sailing away, clanging against a tree as it flew into the woods. Jonah raised his blade and brought it down as hard as he could. As it met his shoulder, the man disappeared, evaporating into nothing.

  Jonah stood for a minute, hands on his knees, resting. He couldn’t afford to spend too much time there, though. He already sensed that he was behind. Walking to the edge of the trees, he pushed some branches aside and moved back into the thickness of the forest.

  He could tell he was moving even lower, into the bottoms of the woods. The air was cooler and quite thick. He shivered, growing suddenly damp and cold. Moving at a slower pace, he kept a paranoid eye out for more movement in front of him or on the ground. But it was a flickering light ahead that caught his attention.

  It wasn’t sunlight. It was more like the light of a fire. And it was coming from a hollow in the side of the hill.

  Working his way from one tree to the next, Jonah drew closer to the light. He made his way to the front of the cave. The light flickering in the darkness was drawing him in. The entrance was so low that he had to lean over to see inside.

  A campfire crackled in the middle of a small, open space on top of a stone floor. Jonah leaned down, mesmerized by the flames, and stepped into the cave.

  There were two sawed-off pieces of tree trunk there by the fire, like two chairs awaiting their guests.

  In spite of the fire, Jonah felt a coldness worm its way underneath his skin. He suddenly wondered why he was there, why he had stepped into this place. He had to leave. Now. He turned to go, but a voice made his feet freeze.

  “Don’t leave so soon, Jonah . . . We haven’t had a chance to talk in quite some time.”

  Turning to look deeper into the cave, he saw a figure emerge.

  It was a voice he had never forgotten. One he had heard just over a year ago. Not to mention in his worst nightmares. He could only mutter one word.

  “You?”

  Abaddon stepped forward, the firelight dancing along the sharp curvature of his bony face. His hood covered the rest of his head. He held up a skeleton-like hand.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said, grinning. “Abaddon, in the flesh. Tell me, how did you like the vipers? I’ve always had a thing for those creatures.”

  Jonah tried to gather his wits, but how was that supposed to happen in the presence of the Evil One himself? The one who had led one-third of the angels of heaven into rebellion against Elohim, and ever since had led the charge against the forces of good?

  “They were no big deal,” he said unconvincingly.

  Abaddon laughed. “Well, you made it here, didn’t you? So kudos to you!”

  Jonah felt his anger well up inside and, in spite of his shaking hands, produced an arrow as fast as he could and aimed it at him.

  “Now, Jonah, haven’t we done this before?”

  Abaddon made a twisting motion with his fingers, and the flame on the tip of Jonah’s arrow was doused.

  Jonah backed himself slowly toward the cave entrance. His head began to pound even louder than before, and he was starting to feel disoriented. “I think I . . . need to leave now . . .”

  Abaddon stepped toward him and spoke in a soothing voice. “You can’t leave so soon, Jonah. We’ve barely had a chance to talk.”

  Why would I want to have a conversation with the Lord of Darkness himself? He moved another step closer to the entrance and was thinking about making a run for it.

  “I am not here to fight with you,” he said, placing his forefingers underneath his chin as he walked around the fire. “Don’t you want to know, Jonah?”

  Jonah blinked. “Know what?”

  “Know what the point of all of this has been?” He pointed to Jonah’s scarred arms and face. “And your fall, not to mention . . . Eleanor.” Abaddon sighed, as if he were deeply sorry about all of it.

  The mention of his mother’s name caused Jonah to bristle again, and in anger he reached for his angelblade. “I already know what’s going on,” he seethed. “You, and M’chala, are doing bad things to me and my family!”

  Abaddon touched his chin with both forefingers, watching Jonah with his red eyes. Jonah tried to look away from them. “Yes, but don’t you want to know . . . why?”

  Jonah paused, entranced by the question. So much of him wanted to leave, but a bigger part needed to know the answer. His hesitation gave Abaddon the chance to beckon him back into the cave. Jonah felt his feet
moving toward the fire again. He sat down on one of the tree stumps.

  “Watch carefully, young quarterling,” cooed Abaddon. He waved his hand in front of the fire, and it began to morph. Flames gradually began to take shape. Jonah gasped as he looked deeper in, focusing all of his attention on the unfolding scene in front of him.

  Abaddon nodded his head as the scene came into view clearly.

  It was a picture of a darkened hallway, and in it, a hazy green being floating along. Jonah recognized it instantly.

  M’chala.

  He stopped at one of the rooms and slid under the crack. Jonah could see inside the room now too, and instantly he knew it to be his own. The view was from above, and he saw David sleeping on one side. M’chala stood over him for a minute, as if contemplating what horrible disease he could give his friend. Then he moved over to the other bed. Jonah knew that he was watching an image of himself, sleeping.

  Jonah gasped as he watched M’chala press his finger into his chest, twisting and turning it with enthusiasm. In a few seconds, he was finished, and he slid from the room.

  The image died in the fire. But just as quickly, another appeared. Jonah was in a different hallway, another one he was familiar with. He brought his hand up to his mouth as he recognized the faded, tan carpet.

  It was his old house in Peacefield.

  M’chala was there too, a haze of green, floating along, until he turned into a room on the left.

  “No,” Jonah whispered, even though he knew he was watching something that had already taken place.

  M’chala stood over his mom and dad, savoring the moment. Then, in a similar way, he plunged his fist down into Eleanor’s body.

  She trembled and her body rose, almost floating out of the bed. Benjamin stirred but didn’t wake up. Jonah could see the pain twisting her face, but her eyes stayed closed. Soon, M’chala was finished, and he glided out of the room.