Judas: The Relic (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 2)

by Roy Bright

“Hey, fuck you Amber,” Amy snorts, “I have a right to know everything about everybody and anybody, and that’s a true thirst for knowledge. And it’s also why I will most likely be an anchor for network news some day.” She flicks her hair back and walks away from them, a smug look on her face.

  “Bullshit!” Chanelle blurts out, “The only anchors you’ll be seeing are the ones tattooed on the arms of your many Navy lovers.”

  Charlotte and Amber burst into fits of laughter.

  Amy whips her head around. “Fuck you, Chanelle – besides, I am more of an Air Force bitch.”

  This time they all laugh.

  The morning bell signals the start of class and cuts their laughter short.

  Chanelle looks at her watch. “Oh shit, it’s 7:55 already.”

  The girls scurry to their lockers as the hallway erupts into pandemonium. They are not alone. In fact, most of the students in the hallway are somewhere they shouldn’t be and a fervent mass of bodies push past one another in different directions, all desperate to be in class on time.

  The girls rummage through their lockers, retrieving what they need for the first lesson of the day.

  Chanelle screams, “Last week baby, fuck yeah!”

  They laugh and cheer as they run off down the hall together.

  Two

  The drone of Mr Fulster’s voice causes Charlotte to yawn again. Her history teacher has never been the most exciting of characters but today he excels at being dull.

  At six-foot four-inches and around 250 pounds, you would think the man would be hard to ignore, but despite his size, his demeanor and conversational prowess rendered him almost invisible. Today was no exception.

  She sighs and closes her eyes for moment. The other morning lessons had been okay, but Fulster’s lesson is becoming too much to bear. Her school life is pretty much over now save for a day or two, so why Fulster deems it necessary to prattle on about career possibilities in a subject she, or in fact anyone in the class, would not be taking in college is beyond her. It was beyond frustrating. What further compounds her annoyance is the knowledge that none of this matters – it is just an illusion, and whether she decides to listen to Fulster or not, the rubbish spouting from his mouth right now will have no meaning whatsoever to her in the days to come.

  Charlotte has loved her time at school with her friends, learning about the world in all its glory and its failures. Over the years she had been engrossed in discovering new and exciting subjects, and had been astonished at how math could provide an answer for almost anything. She had loved the sports education, the out of school clubs, the socializing, and the gossiping… she had enjoyed everything. Now, however, as she nears the final days, she has begun to hate it. Not in the sense of a distinct lack of enjoyment, more out of the fact of knowing what’s to come. The knowledge that the world she currently lives in is nothing more than a figment of Judas’ imagination, a place created by the Angel and the Eternal Council so that she may have a chance at growing up in a normal environment. A place where she could enjoy receiving an education, have close friends, act wild and crazy and learn how to be a woman through the madness that is the teenage years. A place where she could forget the terrors happening in the real world right now, if only for a few days.

  Around 18 months after Charlotte defeated Lucifer, Judas had managed to convince the Eternal Council to create an alternate reality, a facsimile within The Void where she could live a life denied to her in the real world following the onset of the Apocalypse. Judas had brought her in at age eight and although ten years had passed within, she had only been gone a couple of Earth days as time passed very differently in The Void. It had not all been fun and games though. Judas had engaged her in a rigorous training schedule, one designed to teach her the art of swordsmanship and self-defense. He had pushed her hard at least four times a week and, much like any annoying parent locked in a battle of wills with their child and obsessing over their future, he had made it clear how it was vital for her to master the skills needed to fight the lurking darkness that stalked her at all times. He reminded her at every opportunity how imperative it was that she must no longer succumb to the role of the victim; that if she were to lead humankind to its salvation she needed to know how to look after herself along the way.

  Charlotte had no problem with the plan or indeed any of his instructions. He was right – she had been the victim for too long. After his defeat, Lucifer had dispatched his generals and their forces in their multitudes to track them down, and at times things had gotten much too close for comfort. And coupled with the fact that she had been struggling to exert her Divinity at will, her holy power that had helped her defeat the Lord of Hell, Judas realized that she needed to understand her abilities better, to control them, given that defeating Lucifer had not prevented the Apocalypse from occurring as they had hoped. His grip on the world had been much too strong by the time of her Awakening and although her interaction had delayed the full, catastrophic nature of the event, allowing humans to fight back where they could and avoid total annihilation, it had become clear to Judas that time was running out and the forces of Hell were growing stronger. He understood that a more powerful version of Charlotte would be required, enabling her to fend for herself while delivering The Message and guide humankind on the battlefield against the evil that had spread across the world like a plague. Therefore, the decision was that the Archangel Gabriel would petition the Eternal Council to allow Judas to take her into The Void. A netherworld where he could allow her to experience peace and tranquility, a life of fun and discovery that all children should be allowed to have, while at the same time secretly training and readying her for her destiny.

  She opens her eyes and her thoughts turn to Gary, sat outside the huge bank vault in Detroit, guarding her essence, a spirit form created by Gabriel allowing her to exist physically here. She thinks about what he is going to say when she returns three days later, now age 18. She smirks, knowing Judas left that little detail out on purpose just to see the look on his face upon their return. That, although she will only be gone days in earth time, the time spent in The Void will be applied to her upon her return, allowing her to retain her knowledge, training and physicality. She misses Gary, misses him a lot. Ten years is a long time to be away from someone you care about, and given that she regarded Gary as her big brother it had only served to heighten the awful feeling of separation. She remembers how thankful she was when she stepped through Gabriel’s portal onto the roof of the Tonada Corporation Building to find him still alive, her smile wide and beaming, and when he hugged her tight it was then she knew that Judas would be her dad and Gary her big brother. And for a seven-year-old girl who for the longest time had no family to feel close to at all, that feeling had warmed her soul to its very core, a feeling she would never forget and one she would embrace to its fullest.

  She shakes her head. She is drifting, again, thinking too much about the impending end to her little holiday in paradise. She had promised herself at the start of the semester that she would not dwell on things to come, instead she would enjoy every moment of the fantasy life until it was time to leave. However, she could not help but think about it once again. She huffs, places her hands palms down on her desk, her left hand over her right, and rests her chin on top of them. Tilting her head a little to the left, she stares past Chanelle (who is texting underneath her desk) and out of the window. She watches a blue jay as it dances between two black ash trees and smiles as the small bird hops from branch to branch, enjoying its Monday morning. She imagines it to be singing about its wonderful life, about how it is free to do what it chooses, free from the worry of the lives of millions of people around the world, free to fly off on a whim to anywhere that takes its fancy. She wonders whether the bird has a family, others that it must care for and in turn care for it. She thinks that it does, or how else could it appear to be so happy? She imagines it being a young bird, a teenager – one with a bright future, but then again maybe it has a secret,
maybe it has a responsibility, a purpose in which the fate of all birds rests upon its metaphorical shoulders, where one poor decision, one ill-fated slip of concentration could mean the end of everything. Stop it Charley, she tells herself, it’s just a bloody bird. Shaking her head she looks around the classroom at her fellow pupils. They seem locked in their own private worlds, uninterested in the low drone that is Fulster’s voice. They are, like her, thinking of another time, most likely their summer vacations, those 12 weeks of incredible, spontaneous, and insane fun before full-time jobs or further education beckons. She closes her eyes and smiles, imagining herself to be the blue jay, its time hopping around the leaves of the black ash now over as it climbs high into the sky to take itself off on some magical adventure. She sees the town far below her, small and insignificant, and her smile widens as the magnificent Lake Michigan comes into view, stretching far across the vast and beautiful American landscape. She is no longer the bird, she is herself, soaring high above the Earth, caressing clouds as they pass her by, the air around her body warm and embracing. Within the daydream, she closes her eyes, lost in the wonderful transcendence, the amazing moment, and she knows she must do all she can to hold on to it so that it never ends. Then her smile wanes. She opens her eyes. No longer flying, she hovers as the sky around her darkens and takes a menacing turn. Lightning arcs all around and looking down she sees the landscape that was fertile and green is now changing, succumbing to a vile darkness that races over the hills and valleys, corrupting its beauty, poisoning its reverence. Her heart pounds, her pupils dilate. She wants to scream but is unable to. This feels wrong, alien to her, no longer the warm and pleasant place that it was. This shouldn’t be happening – this is her world to command, so why can’t she control it, bend it to her will? The view morphs to a different location and she frowns, narrowing her eyes. It is no longer her town below, her state, or even America.

  Where is that? she asks herself. Is that the Vatican?

  She sees St Peters square, outside the Basilica in Vatican City, remembering it from pictures shown during geography classes.

  Why here, what possible reason could she have to envision this?

  She throws her hands up to her face, covering her nose as the air around her turns putrid with the smell of death and decay. Something flits past, causing her to whip around in an attempt to identify it. Again, something flashes by from behind her and she turns once more, trying to see what it is, to see what now stalks her. The smell of death reaches a new intensity, causing her to retch as the odor envelops her, nauseating, corrupting. She raises her hands, attempting to bring forth her Divinity but she cannot. She tries to scream, to call for help, but her words fail her, and as they do so does her ability to remain airborne. She drops like a stone at an insane speed and as she hurtles toward the ground she finds her voice and lets forth a deafening scream. She is almost upon it, and her mind flashes back to the insane fall from the building on Broadway in New York City where Judas saved her and she narrowly cheated death. She screams “Judas” as she hits the ground and blackness slams into her.

  Opening her eyes she is back in the classroom, seated at her desk. A nightmare, I must have had a nightmare, she thinks and rubs her face with both hands. But something isn’t quite right. She examines her friends sat at their desks, motionless. She looks to her left, at Chanelle. She too sits statuesque, staring straight ahead, listening to Fulster who has reached a new depth of monotony, as though talking in slow motion. She feels an icy chill run down her back and a moist breath against her neck. Her heartbeat races as fear threatens to overwhelm her, to take control of her mind and body and she struggles to subdue it. The foul breath caresses her neck once again only this time more deliberate, controlled. Then a low voice, sly and evil.

  “Your time here is almost up Child of God. Soon it will be time to play, time to play with us.”

  Closing her eyes and swallowing hard, she forces back tears of fear. She will not cry. She will not succumb; this is what Judas had been training her to fight against, to defeat. Opening her eyes, she takes a deep breath and turns around to see what it is that haunts her. There’s nothing there. She feels a presence behind her once again and turns back, this time with determination.

  Mr Fulster has stopped talking, his mouth hanging open. He and the entire class are staring at her, their eyes black and soulless, their skin pale and corroded. A chuckle rises from behind and she whips around once more while at the same time standing up with such vigor that her chair topples to the floor, but it makes no sound upon contact with the ground. Whatever laughed is gone. She stares into the hollow black eyes of her friends, her classmates. Trudy Johnston, sat at the desk right in front of her, stands and sways. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come forth, instead a low-pitched groan that causes Charlotte to feel sick to her stomach. A gurgling replaces Trudy’s groan and a foul black liquid drips from her mouth. Slow at first but then growing in volume as the sticky black substance falls to the floor, puddling around Trudy’s feet. The liquid bubbles as though boiling and Charlotte takes a sharp step backward to avoid touching it. She stumbles into the desk behind her with such force that it causes Carl Bradley to fall back, still seated in his chair. He does not move nor does he react, he just sits there in his chair lying on the floor, his black eyes staring up at the ceiling. In front of her, the bubbling black mass twists and solidifies, molding itself upward into the shape of a demon – one that she is familiar with, as she has seen a demon such as this before in the Holland Tunnel.

  Completing its metamorphosis out of the black ooze, it opens its eyes and attacks her, screaming. It picks her up and propels her against the back wall, demolishing desks and chairs in its path. It cackles, baring all of its teeth, snarling as saliva sprays across her face and forcing her to turn her head left to right in a futile attempt to avoid the foul substance.

  The trickster demon leers at her. “This world is ours you fucking Jew bitch, you don’t stand a chance against us!”

  Its voice, shrill and hysterical coupled its breath on her face feels like Hell itself is trying to crawl out of its mouth. She stops trying to avoid its spittle and focuses her attention on it, gathering herself, replacing fear and helplessness with the determination and resilience she had been taught. She brings her hands up to its dirty, chalky white face and plants them firmly against it. “I am not afraid of you,” she screams, “you will not win. I am not afraid of you.” With that, her hands ignite with brilliant and furious Divinity and as she screams so does the demon.

  Chanelle shakes her and calls her name, snapping Charlotte out of her grim reverie.

  She looks up at her friend, her brow beaded with sweat, confusion in her eyes and then around the room at the stunned pupils, all wondering why the school’s star pupil has had an unexpected meltdown in class.

  Fulster stands at the head of the classroom, his mouth still open, his hand gripping the arm of his glasses. “Are you okay Charlotte? Would you like me to call someone?”

  Charlotte shakes her head, pushes her hair back behind her ears and smiles, “No sir, thank you. I’m okay, I just had a crazy bad dream.” She looks around again and smiles at the faces staring at her. She is about to speak, attempt to somehow explain the bizarre incident when the bell for lunch saves her any further embarrassment. The classroom erupts into a cacophony of sliding chairs and indistinct gossip. She looks at Chanelle who can only shake her head.

  She touches the side of her face, “You sure you’re all right, girl? That was some crazy-ass shit just then. I mean, what the fuck…?”

  Standing up, Charlotte smiles. “Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to freak you out, just a horrible dream. Fulster was boring me to death and I kinda fell asleep. I probably shouldn’t have watched that freaky movie late last night either.” She scrunches up her face.

  They laugh and rest their foreheads against each other. Chanelle breaks off and links arms with her.

  “Come on girl – let’s see what culinar
y delights the school cafeteria has on offer today.”

  She tugs at Charlotte who has just enough time to grab her bag as she is dragged after her.

  Three

  Amber and Amy wave from their picnic table as Charlotte and Chanelle walk out of the cafeteria and head for the grassy area at the side of the school. On such a beautiful day, with little to no breeze, many of the students have opted to eat their lunch outside while basking in the glorious summer sun.

  Further tables adorn the area, filled with students chatting, laughing, and enjoying their lunch while elsewhere the lush green summer grass is covered with kids who had arrived too late to find seating or taken the area by choice.

  Amber shuffles along the bench causing her boyfriend Jonny Reardon to do the same. He clutches at his dinner tray, his annoyance at having to move showing as he pouts and screws up his face. She is having none of it and looks at him with disdain. “Move up you dick, and stop being a baby about it.”

  Amber’s less-than-subtle chastising causes Amy and the table’s fourth occupant, Charlotte’s boyfriend Danny Fitzpatrick, to chuckle, which meets with a disapproving look from Jonny.

  Upon seeing his friend’s childlike expression, Danny exerts his authority within the group and leans forward, calm yet firm. “Dude! Chill out, she’s just kicking your ass like all girlfriends do. Calm the fuck down, man. Capiche?”

  Jonny’s petulance diminishes, in no small part because Danny is the biggest guard in the football team and also regarded as the toughest guy in school. He sighs, “Yeah, sorry man.”

  “Not to me dude,” he replies, his eyebrows raised, “to her.” He motions at a grinning Amber.

  “Sorry… babe!” he says, sarcastically.

  She pouts and grabs his cheek between her thumb and index finger. “That’s okay my little sweet boo-boo-bear, you have your little tantrum if you want to, it just means no bang-bang for you from mommy.”