The Immortality Curse: A Matt Kearns Novel 3

by Greig Beck

  Rachel lowered her flashlight. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s go.”

  As she left, he noticed she had reholstered her weapon, but had the holster unclipped and ready for fast draw. Matt followed her but paused at the door and looked back into the small crypt-like room. In his work he knew ancient rooms like this had seen magnificent things, secret things, and usually wanted to talk via the clues they left.

  Matt let his eyes wander over the tiny cave-like room. Everything in here was brought in and not as old as the room itself. He walked to each object, touching it and running his hands over the edges, looking for hinges, hidden drawers or even levers. He stopped before the statue of Christ on the Cross, and then reached up to let his hands move slowly over its edges. It was on a panel of dark age-pocked wood, and he dug his fingers in beside it – it popped open.

  “Bingo.”

  He carefully eased it wider, immediately smelling an earthy fish-like aroma. It was like a larder inside, but there looked to have been only one thing stored – shelves of small clay bottles, now all smashed. Matt picked up one of the shards – it was an ancient design, no writing or markings at all, but he recognized the clay firing and handle shapes that were predominantly used in the Middle East and North Africa millennia ago.

  He sniffed the shard, thinking there might have been some sort of rare home brew stored in them. “Phew.” He jerked away – it smelled of dank water and rotting fish, but he held onto it. Slowly he looked back at the fragment, and saw the spots of moisture. Matt stared, unable to take his eyes off it. His mouth tingled, then his entire body started to crave the fluid. Before he knew what he was doing he was bringing it to his lips…

  “Hurry up,” Rachel called from outside.

  Shit! He jumped at her voice, and it made him refocus. He tossed the shard back into the closet sized space. He went to close the panel, but paused. He let his eyes run over the tiny room’s interior – what was odd was that this hidden area held no food, no gold, weapons, or anything that might have been of value. Unless it had already been taken, he wondered. He pushed the door shut and then headed out to join Rachel.

  They climbed back out into the main church to find Oscar leaning against one of the walls. “Anything?”

  “Bones, some biological traces, and papers which we’ll take back to the labs for analysis.” Rachel exhaled through compressed lips. “Hey, do you know if there’s a cemetery around here? Like where they would bury the old priests?”

  Oscar shook his head. “Nope, we got one on the outskirts of town, but no priests there I know of.”

  Matt walked to the stained glass window again. The outside light had shifted and now illuminated more of the different panels, giving it a 3D effect. From what he could see the workmanship looked exquisite, but some parts were still lost in darkness.

  He read again the words he could make out. “Benedisse la casa di Noè – Blessed house of Noah.” He stared at the huge window. “This is all connected; I’m sure of it.”

  Rachel joined him. “It’s very detailed.”

  “They were meant to be,” Matt said. “The stained glass windows in churches were for more than just decoration. They were designed to tell a story.”

  “A picture’s worth a thousand words?” Rachel asked.

  “Exactly. They became hugely popular during the middle ages. You imagine several hundred years ago, when there were no computers, television, or even electric light and you’re in a church with a window like this, the filtered light pouring through creating a jewel-like effect – it’d be an almost mystical experience.”

  “Cartoons for the masses.” Rachel half-smiled.

  “You’re more right than you know. Back then most people couldn’t read. But as religion was an important part of daily life, stories were told in the glass. All the way back in the 6th century, Pope Gregory strongly urged artists to paint Biblical scenes on church walls to educate the public. Then in the 11th century, the Synod of Arras transferred the idea to glass. It basically enables illiterate people to learn what books cannot teach them.”

  Oscar folded his arms. “And what does this one say?”

  Matt stepped back a few paces. “It’s not typical.” He saw there were images of water, an ocean, and great cliffs or a mountain range. Animals of many varieties, as well as thick forests, but there were trees and ferns unlike he had seen in these parts.

  “Oscar, those plants, do you recognize them?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Nothing like that around here – looks more like a jungle to me.”

  Matt nodded. “You’re right, but now imagine this place around the time of the window being created – say four centuries ago.”

  Oscar pursed his lips. “Nope again, this place has been unchanged for thousands, not hundreds of years.”

  Matt sighed. “Okay, it was just an idea.”

  “Maybe it was something the artists just made up.” Rachel stepped forward. “Fanciful design and all that.”

  “No, I don’t buy that. These windows take years to create and were damned expensive. And though they are certainly stylized, it is all around some central theme or message. I’m just not seeing it.” Matt sighed. “But Oscar’s right; it does kinda look more like a jungle. The answer is there somewhere.”

  “You mean a hidden message?” Oscar grinned. “Be better when the sun gets on it.”

  “Yeah, it probably would be…” Matt spun, thunderstruck by an idea. “Hey.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows went up. “What?”

  “That’s it: the sun.” Matt said, grinning. “Not the son, as in son of God, but the sun, as in sunshine. Remember what Eleanor said Clarence kept repeating?“ He bounced on his toes. “He said, “the sun shall show the way”.”

  Rachel nodded, and Matt turned back to the window. “So, we need the sun.”

  “Or at least more light,” Rachel said.

  “There’s a message there,” Matt said. “But a message only seen and recognized by those needing to see it.” He turned to Rachel. “Hey, I don’t suppose we can get this window back to a lab?”

  Oscar snorted. “No way, mister. You’re not digging this out and flying off with it.”

  Matt turned to Rachel who shrugged. “You’d need to give me some pretty compelling reasons to get an order for that.”

  “It’s not happening,” Oscar concluded.

  Matt stared back up at the glass. “In that case, I need to get detailed pictures. It’s heavily overgrown outside, and I can’t make out all the panels. Oscar, can you please go and clear away some of the brush from the exterior?”

  Oscar looked hard at him, his lips turned down.

  “Please,” Matt implored.

  Rachel turned to Oscar and shrugged noncommittally. “Humor him.”

  The officer groaned and headed for the door, muttering as he went. He turned to Manny. “Stop grinning, you can help. Come on.”

  Manny also groaned and followed.

  Gloria waved at her colleague as she watched the pair vanish around the corner.

  Rachel came and took Matt’s arm. “You know, if there’s one thing that small town police guys live for, it’s being ordered around by big city folk.”

  Matt scoffed. “I didn’t order him around. And besides as soon as we’re done, the sooner we’re outta his hair.”

  In a few moments he saw the outline of some vines being roughly yanked away from the window. More light shone through. He cupped his mouth. “Atta boy, Oscar.”

  More branches came away, allowing extra light to shine through. Matt stepped back, pulling out his phone. There were now glowing purples, greens, the deepest reds, and sea-blue. The work was magnificent.

  “Wow, so beautiful.” Gloria said as she stared up at the glass.

  “There, more writing; what does it say?” Rachel turned to him.

  “Not Italian this time, but Chaldaic again – the language of Adam and Eve, and Noah.” Matt concentrated. “Weird; it talks of a place – Akeb
u-Lan – it’s a very ancient name for the Garden of Eden that far predates the Bible.”

  Rachel shrugged. “Well, what better place to talk about Adam and Eve than in a church.”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. Talking about it here is fine. But talking about it in Chaldaic doesn’t make sense. It’s like using code – no one has written or spoken it for thousands of years.”

  Matt had a thought, remembering the broken bottles downstairs – they were like supplies. “This place, the message designed for a select few, and the stores. It reminded me of what Oscar told us of the supply huts in the wilderness. You came here for directions or supplies.”

  He pointed up at the window. “But this makes no sense. This panel was designed not to be read or even understood by normal people coming in here.”

  Rachel folded her arms. “I’ve heard in ancient Greek paintings the artists sometimes inserted hidden jokes and even insults about their wealthy patrons. Is this like that?”

  “Well done.” Matt grinned at her. “And maybe it’s just like that.” Matt stared up at the magnificent window. “Hiding a coded reference to the Garden of Eden. Why? To keep it secret? And why in this remote place? I don’t get it.”

  Matt looked from Rachel to Gloria.

  “Never seen it before.” The officer said evenly.

  “Few have, I bet.” Matt said. “But I know it’s all connected somehow.” He turned to Rachel. “And the jungle or forests.” He tapped his foot. “We know that the climate was warmer and wetter around the time of Noah – remember this was about 2500 to 2750 years BCE – that’s nearly 5,000 years ago.”

  “I remember hearing that even Egypt was very green at the time of the first Pharaohs.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine it.”

  Matt took more photographs of the window. “Yep,’ the climate has been changing ever since we had an atmosphere. One day Egypt and the entire Middle East might be green again. We tiny mammalian specks just need to get used to the climate changing one way, and then back the other.”

  Another huge branch came away from the window, displaying a new section of colored glass panels. Matt took a picture and then lowered the phone camera.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the Ark.”

  In the corner of the glass there was an unmistakeable boat structure dwarfing the animals and humans surrounding it. It was a squat-looking craft with no windows and solid ribs running up its sides. Matt concentrated on the dark glass – just away from the Ark, there seemed to be a group of figures kneeling before a pile of stones or very crude statue of something. And close to it, a giant, yellow-eyed figure, pointing.

  “What are you trying to tell us?” Matt whispered.

  In the opposite corner and along the bottom were hues of green, brown, and blue, all intersected by lines. It seemed more for design and Matt went back to marvelling at the Ark.

  Gloria gaped. “I can’t believe this has been hidden here the whole time.”

  Rachel frowned. “The animals are coming off but that doesn’t look like any sort of mountaintop to me.”

  Matt walked slowly forward. “Genesis 8:1–19 – In the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, the Ark rested upon the mountains of Ararat.” He turned. “But the thing is, the Bible was not written in one specific year or in a single location. In fact, the first Bible entries were set down around 3000 years ago, with some parts even attributed to Moses and are commonly called the Pentateuch – the five scrolls. But Noah lived long before this. And believe me, as a language historian, I know time has a way of vastly changing stories and history.”

  Rachel looked up at the window. “So the Ark landing site, may be wrong?” The light moved again across its panels making the image dance and move.

  An idea began to form in his mind. He looked from the picture on his phone to the window and then back again. He focussed on the area that he at first thought was just artistic design. “That section in the corner, you know what it reminds me of? The part image on the phone from the murdered families – the lines and contours make me think this might be a map.” He grimaced, impatience gnawing at him as Oscar still had some window panels to clear.

  Matt pointed. “And are they knights?” Dressed in black tunics, standing before the jungle and swords in hands stood a group of tall men. “Some sort of guard?”

  “And what’s with the yellow-eyed giant?” Rachel asked.

  “Maybe they’re pilgrims,” Gloria suggested.

  “Who knows; hard to make it out clearly. It’s still too dark,” Rachel observed.

  Matt squinted up at the scene. “I don’t know, the light is there, but I think it’s more that the glass itself is black.” He tilted his head. “What do you see?”

  She folded her arms. “The boat, an Ark, sitting in water I think, but surrounded by a forest or jungle.” She pulled in a cheek and her forehead furrowed. “I can see beams of light, but it seems to be nighttime.”

  “Could the beams mean a holy light – the radiance of God, maybe?” Matt sighed. “Sometimes you have to try and get inside the head of the author or artist, and try and…”

  Two rapid gunshots – loud and close by. Followed by several more.

  “Shit!” Matt ducked.

  “Get down,” Gloria yelled as she crouched. “Stay here.” She was up and sprinting for the door.

  “Wait!” Rachel yelled after her.

  Gloria went through the door, flinging it shut behind her. Almost immediately there was gunfire, lots of it. Bullet holes appeared in the door and could be heard striking the sandstone facade of the church.

  Then like they had all been dropped into the vacuum of space, there was a moment of total silence.

  “Hey…?” Rachel raised her head, just as a long and haunting moan seemed to emanate from all around them.

  “What the hell was that?” Matt asked. “It sounded li…”

  His words froze in his mouth. The scream was long and sounded excruciatingly painful. It was cut off completely just as something enormously heavy thumped into the side of the church, making dust rain down on them.

  The scream came again, this time in agony, and this time from a different throat. But Matt still couldn’t tell whether it was torn from a man or woman, such was its inhuman quality.

  Rachel spun, teeth bared and already holding her weapon. She held up a hand in front of his face. “You stay here.” She turned for the door.

  “Not a chance.” Matt started to follow, when there was a sound like a trumpet blast.

  Time seemed to slow, and Matt somehow knew what was coming next. He leapt at Rachel, grabbing her and covering her with his body as the entire stained glass window exploded inwards, showering the room with millions of razor-sharp projectiles.

  He shuddered from the pain and could feel the hot blood running from the back of his head and where his neck was exposed.

  Rachel rolled over and knelt, holding her gun out and scanning the area before looking back down at him. She immediately saw the blood running down over his face.

  “Jesus, Matt; stay still.” She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and held it to his neck.

  Matt also knelt. The pain was exquisite. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Stay still,” Rachel said urgently. “Yeah, me, I’m fine, thanks to you.” She gently wiped his face. “I owe you one.”

  From behind, more of the window frame fell in, and Matt spun back to see something that made his stomach sink.

  There was a shape in the now-open frame. It was huge, misshapen and, given that the window was 12 feet up from the ground, gigantic. Yellow softball-sized eyes set in a grotesque head fixed on him. Matt felt his heart begin to smash in his chest.

  “We gotta get the hell out of here.” Rachel’s voice was high as she grabbed him and started to wrench him up.

  The thing moaned, long and low, and the sound conjured images of an ancient world that was inhabited by beings that were far older than mankind. Horrifyingly,
it then started to come through, tearing out bricks and lifting itself up.

  Matt scrambled backwards on his heels and palms.

  “Loo… look…!”

  Rachel screamed at him. “Out, now!”

  The thing had heaved its body up, monstrous shoulders pushed in through the frame. A sudden thought came to him. He screamed the words in the oldest of languages – Chaldaic. He invoked the one name that he could think of, an ancient one, for God.

  “In the name of Yhvh, I command you to stop!”

  The figure paused. The yellow orbs remained staring, and a huge maw opened uttering a low moan that spoke of pain and sorrow and an eternity of suffering and servitude. It tilted its head, and seemed to be sniffing – sniffing Matt.

  “In the name of Yhvh, I command you to be gone!”

  Matt felt the waves of confusion coming off the thing, as it seemed frozen in indecision – either by what it heard or what it smelled.

  Rachel lunged at him, dragging him, and he flipped over. His legs began to move at double speed. Rachel still had him by the shoulder, and together they dove for the doorway, flying through it and rolling onto the grass and dirt outside.

  “Shut the door, shut the door.” Matt rolled over and did it himself, kicking back hard to slam the heavy wooden slab. He scrambled backwards, keeping his eyes on the closed door.

  Rachel was up on her feet, gun up, and pointed at the corner of the building, where Oscar had disappeared.

  Matt also leapt to his feet and wiped his head. Glass came free, and he then felt his neck and scalp; they were still wet, but didn’t sting anymore. In fact, tracing them with his fingertips, he couldn’t feel any cuts either. Maybe it was the shock more than anything else, he thought.

  “We’ve got to find the others.” Rachel was crouching and scanning the undergrowth. “Oh shit.”

  Matt followed her gaze. “No, no, no.” He ran to the sprawled figure.

  Gloria lay on the grass, arms wide and a neat black hole in the center of her forehead. Rachel knelt beside her and placed fingers lightly on the policewoman’s neck. It was a useless gesture as even Matt could see from where he stood the spreading pool of thick red soaking into the damp grass beneath her skull.