The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1)

by Jason Brannon

  “There’s something all of you need to know,” he said. “I wasn’t going to mention this until I was sure. I guess Kelly’s death gave me proof of what we’re dealing with. So it‘s time I spilled it. I know a little more than I‘ve let on.”

  “You knew what was going on here and you didn‘t tell us?” Sadie asked, furious. “Maybe if you’d said something earlier Kelly would still be alive!”

  Franklin nodded and tried to meet Sadie’s gaze, but couldn’t. “I should have said something. I never thought things would go this far.”

  Before anyone could react, Edward lunged at Franklin and pinned him to the ground. The look in Edward’s eyes was filled with fury and hatred. “This is your fault,” he growled.

  Although Franklin outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, Edward had the advantage and kept the big man pinned to the sand. He pressed his knees into Franklin’s shoulders and looked like he was on the verge of using his fists.

  “Get off me!” Franklin said. “If you know what’s good for you, you will get off of me right now. I can help.”

  Franklin managed to get his hands around Edward’s throat and began to squeeze. Instinctively, Edward began to choke Franklin too, and soon both men were red-faced and rolling around on the wet beach.

  “Break it up!” Henry shouted, trying to get between the fighting men. Sadie tried to pry them apart too, and at last managed to separate them.

  “What is wrong with you?” Franklin asked. “Are you possessed?”

  “You got someone killed,” Edward fumed. “You know what’s going on here, and you owe it to all of us to tell us what we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

  Franklin opened a bottle of water and took a long gulp. He placed the cool bottle against his forehead. “I was going to tell you what was going on when you decided to turn this into a cage match.”

  “So tell us,” Henry said.

  Franklin nodded, took another gulp of water, and rolled back his sleeve to reveal a strange tattoo adorning his inner forearm. “I’m not what you think I am,” he said.

  Sadie raised her eyebrows. “You mean you’re not an egotistical jerk who thinks the world revolves around him?”

  “Well, maybe I am what you think I am,” Franklin admitted. “But I’m much more than that, and it‘s the real reason I‘m tied to Lindell…or Nero…or whatever he‘s calling himself now.”

  “Explain yourself,” Edward said. “Now!”

  Franklin pulled his sleeve back again to give them a better look at his tattoo. “I’m a member of a very small, elite group called The Slaves of Solomon.”

  “I think cult is a more accurate word,” Edward said, spitting the words out like something poisonous. “I’ve heard of your group. Very esoteric. Mystical.”

  “Do you know anything about the group?”

  “The Slaves of Solomon are a doomsday cult who are on an eternal search for wisdom. Only from what I hear their methods don‘t always involve God…or legal means. Their purpose involves gleaning knowledge about the end of the world.”

  “That’s oversimplifying it a little, but yes, that’s the general idea.”

  “How does murdering someone in cold blood help you gain wisdom?” Sadie asked. “If Lindell’s the one holding us here and he‘s the one who killed Kelly, what purpose does that serve other than to fulfill some sort of personal vendetta. Maybe you’re the one behind all of this and not Lindell. You‘ve got the money to make something like this happen. You‘re the guy with the government GPS contract.”

  “I knew you’d come to that conclusion once you learned the truth about me, but I’m not responsible for any of this.”

  “So how do you figure into this mess?” Edward asked.

  “I got kicked out of the group a year ago,” Franklin said. “I saw too many things and my conscience started to get the better of me. Despite what you all may think, there are lines even I’m not prepared to cross. My involvement is my punishment. I was brought here so Nero could get revenge on me like he did with Kelly. They baited the hook for me, and I fell right into their trap.”

  “They?” Edward asked. “Who are we talking about?”

  “Most of the members I don’t know. We wear masks like the ones Nero and Seneca wore at the house on Archibald Street. Some of our members require absolute anonymity. They are men of power and wouldn’t want word of their involvement in the group getting in the papers or on the news. The cult was responsible for the dinner party. Of that I‘m certain. I noticed the signs scattered in various places throughout the house. Some of the group’s symbols were cleverly concealed in the invitations that were sent out to each of us. They summoned me, and I knew I had to go. I feared for my life if I didn’t. The Slaves are also responsible for the symbols painted on the cliffs.”

  “What do the symbols mean?” Edward asked.

  “They represent the names of angels written in angelic script.”

  “Angels?” Sadie asked. “Back to that again?”

  “Angels have knowledge,” Franklin explained. “And angels have been known to communicate with men. If angels would communicate with us, we could learn from them.”

  “And the angel painting from the cave?” Sadie asked.

  “Lindell has tried convincing various members of our group that our link to the angels can be found somewhere on this island.”

  “Well, that goes along with what Kelly mentioned about catching Lindell worshipping at some sort of hidden angelic altar,” Sadie noted. “It backs her story up.”

  “What about Morningstar?” Edward asked.

  “I’m not sure about that,” Franklin said. “I don’t know anything about the horsemen either. All of that has materialized since I was excommunicated.”

  “You guys are a couple of fries short of a Happy Meal,” Sadie said.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Franklin admitted.

  “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this sooner?” Henry asked, skeptical.

  “I was sure you wouldn’t believe me,” Franklin said. “And I knew my chances of survival would be slim enough without having the wrath of the group aimed at me the entire time.”

  “Do you have any idea where we are?” Sadie asked. “Are we close to corporate headquarters or mission control or whatever you guys call it?”

  “I’m not privy to all the group’s secrets,” Franklin admitted. “Ours is a well-funded organization comprised of a lot of movers and shakers. There are people much better connected and more powerful who call themselves Slaves. I’ve never been here before. However, I’m sure there’s a way off this island. The men we’re dealing with wouldn’t fail to attend to that sort of detail. I think it’s safe to say we were brought here by boat. Lindell is afraid of flying.”

  “So let’s start looking for a boat,” Henry said.

  “I think we should hunker down for the night and wait for daybreak,” Edward said. “We don’t know this island, and if half of what Franklin says is true, we don’t stand a chance against whoever’s out there.”

  “The odds aren‘t in our favor,” Franklin said. “Nero has planned all this well in advance. I know the man too well. He scares me.”

  “So what do you suggest we do?”

  Franklin sighed and ran a hand through hair that no longer looked board-room ready. He was exhausted, as they all were. “I think we should setup camp and discuss our options.”

  Based on Franklin’s suggestion, Edward and Henry spent the next half an hour gathering more wood to keep the fire going throughout the rest of the night. Sadie gathered brush and made cots that were comfortable enough because of the soft sand beneath them. Franklin went in search of fallen limbs that could be used as clubs.

  Once they were all settled in and the fire was roaring before them, the group came back to Franklin.

  “So tell us more about your little group,” Henry said. “What is your raison d’etre?”

  “Speak English, Yoda,” Franklin said.

  “Your purpose. What i
s your group’s mission?”

  “In the Bible, Solomon asked God for wisdom. God granted that request, and Solomon became very wise. We seek the wisdom of Solomon because it’s the wisdom of God.”

  “For what purpose?” Edward asked. “Why do you need wisdom?”

  “You’ve heard the saying ‘Knowledge is Power’. Well, that’s only partially right. Wisdom is power. Power comes from having knowledge and knowing how to use it. The members of my organization thrive on power, on authority. There are members of the group who are presidents of countries, dictators, and CEO’s. We seek wisdom because it will make us great.”

  “Isn’t it enough to be millionaires and have authority?” Henry asked.

  “Not for men like us,” Franklin admitted. “We thrive on more. Enough is never enough.”

  “So this boils down to greed?” Edward said. “You guys aren’t content with the toys you have in your toybox. You want the toys in your buddy’s toybox too.”

  “It’s not about material possessions,” Franklin explained. “It’s about making our mark in history. It‘s about achieving status.”

  “So what’s all this talk about the end of the world?” Edward asked. “What good is making your mark on a world that gets destroyed by fire?”

  Franklin took a drink from a bottle of water. “That’s Lindell’s own personal quest. As a child, he was abused by a father who hid behind the scripture. The man drank regularly, beat Hal on a daily basis, and yet proclaimed God’s love to any and all who would hear it.”

  “So from the beginning Lindell associated God’s love with pain,” Edward said.

  “Exactly. I think that’s why the bottle caps from Kelly‘s challenge are significant. Liquor fueled his father’s rages.”

  “That makes sense,” Henry conceded. “What doesn’t make sense is what Lindell wants. We've all known him at some point in our lives. But Edward, Sadie, and I haven't had any contact with him for years. He's a different person than the one we knew. You're the one who has been in contact with him the most recently. What is all of this about?”

  Franklin sighed. “That’s the difficult part to explain. One of the main reasons I was kicked out of the group was an argument he and I had over the nature of God. Lindell, given his childhood, is on an eternal quest to understand why God would allow him to grow up in such a traumatic environment.”

  “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Edward said.

  “Lindell wanted to take it one step further. He wanted to rebel against God in retaliation for all the pain he had to suffer. He wants Christians to suffer. He wants to wage his own personal attack on God.”

  “The death of millions,” Edward said. “Morningstar.”

  “That doesn't really go along with his televangelist persona,” Henry pointed out.

  Franklin nodded. “No, it doesn't. Which brings up the next point about our friendly neighborhood cultist.”

  “Enlighten us,” Sadie asked.

  “Toward the end of our relationship, I think Lindell’s psyche began to fracture, and the duality of his nature became a strain he couldn’t bear. God’s love by nature and definition is good. Lindell knew this but he also associated it with an overbearing monster of a father who beat him with an extension cord while reciting verses from the Book of Revelation.”

  “The Nero persona would make sense,” Henry said. “Nero blamed many of his problems on Christians and used them as scapegoats.”

  “That personality would continually be at odds with the devout, praying Lindell persona the world sees on television every Sunday morning.”

  “So in a sense he’s at war with himself?”

  Franklin finished his water and squashed the plastic bottle. “At war with himself and with us. In his mind he thinks we’re to blame for the way he feels.”

  “And what part do we play?” Edward asked.

  Franklin propped his chin on his hands. “He wants us to help him get revenge on the Christians in retaliation for what he suffered at the hands of his father so long ago. Of course, that’s not even the worst part?”

  “There’s something worse?” Sadie asked.

  Franklin nodded. “Lindell’s bad enough, but there are people on this island who believe and support him.”

  Chapter 20

  Nobody knew what to think when Franklin started drawing in the sand. With a sharp stick, he traced symbols and wrote words from languages none of them recognized.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing?” Henry said. “If you’re trying to get us rescued, maybe SOS would be better than all that gobbledygook.”

  Franklin waved the idea away. “I’m trying to get my bluff in and save our lives. I’m leaving Lindell a message.”

  “What’s it say?” Sadie asked.

  “These symbols are the foundation of our order. One of the tenets of organization is to ‘Proceed With Caution in the Absence of Wisdom.’ That’s what I’ve written, hoping it will cause him to question his motivations here and delay any further actions until daybreak. That should get his attention. Then he’ll read this.”

  “God is merciful,” the message read. “He created us in His image. Doesn’t that mean we should be merciful too?”

  “We’re going to play his own game?” Henry said. “I don’t know if he’ll appreciate that.”

  “I think he might,” Edward said, surprised that he found himself agreeing with Franklin for once. “Nero…or Lindell…or whatever we’re going to call him…seems to fancy himself a philosopher. Surely this is the kind of question he’d value.”

  “Do you think it will last until morning?” Sadie asked.

  “I don’t think the tide will rise high enough to wash it away,” Franklin said. “Besides, I also took the liberty of carving a few symbols into the bark of all the trees behind us. We should be able to last until daybreak.”

  “While I appreciate your efforts, I think we should also pray to God for our protection,” Edward said. “I’d feel a lot better about placing my trust in the Lord than in a bunch of archaic symbols and a question posed to a madman.”

  “Correction,” Henry reminded him. “Group of madmen.”

  “You do your thing, and I‘ll do mine,” Franklin said. “If it’ll do any good, Henry and Sadie can recite the alphabet backwards while standing on their heads. I’m all for whatever works.”

  “I‘m with Franklin,” Sadie said. “Everybody should do what they feel comfortable with.”

  Edward looked to Henry. The old man shrugged. “I kinda lost the notion to pray after Margaret got sick,” he admitted.

  “I don’t understand,” Edward said. “Nero seems to have a fundamental problem with Christians, and yet I seem to be the only one in the group.”

  “That probably means you’re in really big trouble,” Franklin said as he huddled closer to the fire. “I think your reason for being here may be different than ours.”

  As the sun melted into the horizon, a chill seeped into the air. Everyone pitched in and gathered more driftwood to feed the fire for the remainder of the night. Nobody said much while they worked. They were all too busy wondering if they were going to get off of the island alive or if they would end up like Kelly. The flames were a constant reminder of that.

  The fire glowed in the center of their makeshift camp like a gemstone in a ring setting. In the pallor cast by the blaze, the moon had an orange patina to it that made it seem malevolent. It was the kind of omen that might signal the end of the world.

  “I sure wish we had a few steaks on hand instead of these power bars,” Franklin said as he nibbled on something called Peanut Butter Flax Seed Delight. “These things taste like cardboard.”

  “A hamburger would be better,” Sadie said. “With bacon and Swiss cheese and French Fries on the side.”

  “I could go for a deep dish pizza,” Henry said, playing along. “With black olives, pepperoni, and sausage. What about you, Edward?”

  “How about a plate of nachos with refried bean
s, cheese sauce, and carne asada?”

  Everyone salivated at the thought of their favorite food, wondering secretly whether they would ever get the chance to eat it again.

  “If we get off of this island alive, dinner‘s on me.” Franklin said. “Everyone can have whatever they want, and we‘ll eat until we make ourselves sick.”

  “All I want is to go back to my old life,” Sadie said.

  “Same here,” Henry said. “My life was never that exciting to begin with, but I’ll take boredom any day over being threatened by a homicidal maniac.”

  “Correction,” Edward said with a wry smile. “Group of homicidal maniacs.”

  Henry laughed and the rest of the group followed. It was a much needed tension reliever, and within minutes everyone seemed to be a little more relaxed.

  “So what is real life like for everybody?” Edward asked as he prodded the fire with a sharp stick. “We know a little about each other. But where is everyone from? What kinds of movies do you like? What do you hate more than anything else in the world? Maybe we should talk about where we come from and what our lives were like back home.”

  “I can answer that last one about what I hate the most,” Franklin said. “My vote will be for ex-wife number 3. She managed to get a seven-figure settlement out of me. That was more than the first two ex-wives got combined. Writing that check hurt me in more ways than I can count.”

  “Sounds like love is expensive for you,” Henry laughed.

  “Chalk it up to inflation and bad judgment,” Franklin said. “What about the rest of you? Ever been married?’

  “For fifty-two years,” Henry said, smiling at the memory. “My wife, Margie, passed on last year after battling lymphoma.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful lady,” Sadie said.

  “She was,” Henry said. “She loved to sing and play the piano. Margaret was a songbird and was as talented as she was beautiful. If I had one wish, it would be to hear her sing one more song to me like she did on so many occasions. I miss her.”

  “I hope I find someone like that one of these days,” Sadie said. “I’ve never even been close to tying the knot.”