Save Him

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Save Him Page 13

by William M. Hayes


  The red screen on the computer then faded to white. The names of each one sent back in time—with the exception of Rydel—appeared on the screen to show their vital signs. Their vitals came back in a jumbled mess of unusable data. Just like the three times out before, nothing came back. But maybe as the time travelers returned, the safeguard he had added to the backup chips might work.

  Will came to realize that not only was he in charge of the lab—but in a delusional grasp for more power—he now thought he was in charge of the mission.

  And sometimes, tough decisions must be made.

  Like if any dangerous earth activity should make its way toward the lab as the time travelers returned, he would be forced to kill each one with a new project he had just recently designed and added to the replicated chips before the time travelers left. They would not feel a thing. Just like being on ice, their bodies would shut down, but for good—at 1.1 seconds before arriving back in the present. As simple as that, once he decided to upload the program. Saving him and humanity.

  Dawn over Jerusalem

  The light of dawn spread out over the mountains and then the stone walls surrounding the city of Jerusalem below. Ray stood and watched the morning light from a mountain crevice he had found. A hideaway from John and the rest of the Unit. He knelt on one knee and made the sign of the cross over his heart.

  Up on his feet, Ray emerged from the crevice. As he rounded its rocky exterior, Todd was waiting for him.

  "Hey. What're you doing up here, Ray?"

  Caught off guard by Todd, Ray kept his surprise from appearing on his face, projecting a calm, passive demeanor.

  "Just making sure they all got down the mountain safe."

  "They're down, Ray. Well on their way. Sal and I have been waiting for you for over half an hour now. You all right?"

  "I'm fine. Let's go."

  Ray walked past Todd, and Todd followed him without saying another word.

  Ray, Sal, and Todd reached the city of Jerusalem half an hour later. The three, wearing their nondescript cloaks, entered one of the city's arched gates with their heads lowered, looking up just enough to see where they were going. The city in front of them was bustling. The three tried to keep as much distance as they could from the people around them. Cautiously, they continued on until reaching an area of the city that was less crowded. With Sal and Todd close behind him, Ray nodded toward a narrow alley just ahead, and they quickly made their way inside. After making sure nobody had followed them, the three pulled back the hoods of their cloaks and looked around for anyone in the alleyway. It was empty; only at the other end of the alley, where it opened up to the city, could people be seen busily walking by.

  Ray pulled out his gun from under his cloak and looked down at the slide-out screen on the weapon.

  "We're five hundred yards away from your gun, Sal."

  "The ammo?" Sal asked.

  "A little farther away from your gun. Let's keep going the way we are—stay away from the people—and we should be back at camp before dark."

  The three placed their hoods back over their heads and stepped out of the alley. The street had almost emptied out from just the few minutes spent in the alleyway. They walked on, reaching the city limits. Coming to a stop, the three looked around and saw no one.

  They made their way outside the city. Ray held out his gun and jogged at a quick pace, following the reading on his slide-out screen, followed by Sal and Todd. The three reached the top of a small hill. On a mound of dirt formed by the wind, Ray knelt down and uncovered Sal's gun, handing it over his shoulder to him. He then looked to his right.

  "There."

  Ray pointed to a leafless, sun-dried bush where Sal's ammo bag hung from one of the branches. Sal ran over, snatched up the bag of ammo, and returned to Ray and Todd. Ray checked his watch.

  "Okay, good. Less time than I thought it would take."

  The three turned, taking in the city of Jerusalem for a moment as the wind picked up, rippling over their clothing, pulling the cloaks they wore across their bodies.

  "Man, it is something to see, isn't it, Ray," Sal said, gazing over the city.

  Ray gave Sal a slight nod, just enough to acknowledge him. He could sense Todd's watchful gaze and did not want Todd to see any reaction coming from him. He wanted to appear neutral and unfeeling toward Jerusalem, the city where his religion began.

  But it was something to see. Something not read about in a book or seen in some movie about how the city looked over two thousand years ago; it was right here before them. It was truly magnificent from where the three stood on the small hill overlooking Jerusalem. The intricate walls surrounding the city, the homes of tan stone in the Lower City, the magnificent stone structures of white inside the Upper City, the grandeur of it all. Breathtaking.

  Ray looked away from the city. He did not need his gun's technology to tell him that it would save time getting back to the mountain camp by going around the city wall ahead. He just couldn't take the logical way back—something was drawing him back inside the city.

  Todd would know that going back through the city would take longer. Sal would not ask; he would just obey orders.

  "You two follow me like before. We're going back through the city and then back to the camp."

  "Ray—" Todd started to say as Ray held up his hand for Todd to be quiet.

  "I know it's the long way back, Todd," Ray said without looking at him. "Just follow me."

  Ray headed toward the city, followed by Sal. With a slight shake of his head, Todd reluctantly fell in line behind them.

  The Healed One

  A man with black curly hair reaching his shoulders and a beard of the same color stood in front of the one window inside the hut, a dwelling where he was taking refuge. With his eyes closed, the man leaned his face into the light of the sun streaming in from outside.

  Scattered candles behind the man lit the hut, along with the slanted sunlight. Lazarus pierced his hand into a beam of light, speaking aloud in Aramaic.

  "I still feel the warmth of—" Lazarus began to say as a low tapping sound at the hut's door opened his blue eyes. Lazarus stared at the door, hoping the sound was something just imagined. Two more gentle knocks, and Lazarus knew he'd been found. The ones who hid him would tap on the door five times and then speak his name backward—Surazal. This did not happen.

  He carefully walked past the door toward the only other way out of the hut—a small room at the back of the home with a crawl space leading underground to unoccupied neighboring homes. Lazarus took each step slowly and silently until he heard his name spoken by a friend.

  "Lazarus, it's me, Clopas."

  Close to the floor, by the side of the door, a small crack in the wall had been chiseled out for the purpose of viewing visitors from inside the hidden sanctuary.

  Lazarus was sure the voice behind the door was his friend Clopas. But he had to consider that his friend may not be alone. He may have been forced at knifepoint by others.

  Lazarus got on his hands and knees so he could look outside. He could see Clopas standing alone with his head lowered.

  Lazarus got up to his feet, lifted the wooden beam securing the door, opened the door, and faced his friend. He quickly led Clopas inside the hut and closed the door, wedging the wooden beam back into place. Clopas leaned against the door with his arms behind his back for a few seconds. He then spread out his arms, smiling at Lazarus, a gesture saying no enemy will ever enter.

  Lazarus placed his hands on his friend's shoulders and drew him close as Clopas spun him around in a friendly roughhouse way while they embraced. Lazarus pulled back from the embrace to face Clopas. He walked Clopas away from the door, bringing him deeper inside the hut.

  "It is good to see you," Lazarus said.

  "Lazarus, there's a powerful group of priests in the temple searching for you and Jesus, accusing both of you of staging your resurrection. Caiaphas is leading them. He has influenced most of the priests with his skilled way wi
th words. They are planning to kill Jesus."

  "How do you know this?"

  "It is what I've been told by another prophet."

  "Another prophet?"

  "He stands behind you now."

  Lazarus turned. The shadowy outline of a man stood by the door, and the door’s wooden beam could be seen on the floor. Lazarus looked back at Clopas, pointing a finger toward the beam on the ground.

  "You did this?"

  "Yes."

  "Why would you lead this man to me?"

  "This is an important man, one with vision. He needs to know where Jesus is. I beg you, my friend, tell him."

  "Do you know what you've done, Clopas? This man will—"

  Before Lazarus could finish, Rydel closed in and stabbed S-7 into his forearm. Lazarus stood unmoving and wide-eyed, the S-7 needle sticking out of his arm. Rydel stepped in front of Lazarus and studied the man for a moment. He then pulled the needle out of his arm.

  "You will take me to Jesus," Rydel ordered the man in translated Aramaic. "And never ask me what's covering my mouth or about how my voice sounds. Understand?"

  Under the influence of S-7, Lazarus nodded at Rydel.

  "Take me to Jesus, Laz—"

  Lazarus's elongated gait had him at the door before Rydel could finish saying his name. He swung the door open and was gone. Lazarus walked at a brisk pace until Rydel caught up with him on a dirt path leading away from the hut and reached out for his arm. Lazarus pulled away from Rydel's grip and continued forward so he could do what he was told to do. Rydel stumbled a couple of steps and then ran past Lazarus, holding up a hand for the man to stop.

  "Stop!" Rydel shouted at Lazarus three times before his translator repeated his words in Aramaic back to Lazarus. Lazarus stopped. Not all the kinks had been worked out with S-7. Some people needed to be explicitly told what to do step-by-step. Unlike Clopas, who always made sure he understood what he was being ordered to do, others who were tested and put under the influence of S-7 would run off right after being given an order—like Lazarus—and perform the task as quickly as they could.

  "Do not run off without me telling you to do so. Do you understand?" Rydel said, inches away from the face of Lazarus.

  Lazarus nodded.

  "Now, Lazarus, without running, and with me by your side, take me to Jesus."

  "I will take you to Him."

  "Good. Go—and go slowly."

  "You are here to help Him?"

  Rydel stepped back, not sure of what to make of Lazarus's last response. Lazarus said it as if asking a question. Those influenced by S-7 did not ask questions with concern in their voice the way Lazarus had just done. After a while, they would become somewhat normal again. However, at first, when shot up with the drug, they were robotic.

  "Yes, I'm here to help Him. How do you know that?"

  Lazarus did not answer. He just stood in front of Rydel, waiting for orders.

  "Lazarus, answer my question."

  "What question? I do not understand. Do you still want me to take you to Jesus and not move so fast?"

  Not sure if he had correctly heard the emotion in Lazarus's voice seconds before, and relieved that the man was now under total control, Rydel pointed for Lazarus to lead the way, and he did, slowly. Behind Rydel, Clopas waited, smelling badly like the fish he sold at the market.

  "You need to bathe, Clopas. You smell like a walking fish."

  "I will do so now."

  "I was being humorous, Clopas. Do you see any water around you?"

  "No."

  "Keep following me at a distance to make sure we are not followed."

  "Was what you said to me now humorous? Should I laugh?"

  "No. Go, Clopas!"

  Clopas turned and ran off. At a slight jog, Rydel caught up with Lazarus. Side by side, the two walked down a dark path, turned down another, and faced the barren land outside the small village where Lazarus was taking refuge.

  Rydel and Lazarus walked without saying a word. Lazarus stopped and turned to face Rydel, touching Rydel's face. Lazarus drew back his hand and continued walking. Rydel stood unmoving for a few seconds, then ran and caught up to Lazarus plodding across the wasteland.

  "Why did you touch my face?"

  Lazarus stopped. "So I could feel your soul. As much as you are controlling me now, a part of me cannot be controlled. I have been outside this world; a piece of my soul is still there."

  "I don't understand, Lazarus."

  "You cannot understand. You have not died yet."

  The Road Back

  On a twisting dirt road leading to Jerusalem, Ray, Sal, and Todd made their way silently toward an arched stone entranceway leading into the city, with Ray out in front. As they walked, both Sal and Todd noticed—from what they could make out of the side of Ray's face, with his shemagh hiding his translator around his neck and the flapping hood of his cloak—that Ray was distant, not all there. Sal took a few quick steps and caught up to Ray, walking alongside him.

  "How you doing, Ray? You're not looking so good. I'm worried about dehydration. Have some water, and let's rest a second—"

  Ray turned suddenly, his face up in Sal's. "I'm not dehydrated."

  Ray looked back at Todd, who was a couple of steps behind. "I need to check on something before we return to camp. You two won't be needing your translators. Leave them around your neck."

  Todd walked closer and shrugged his shoulders. "What, Ray? What do you need to check on?"

  "Just do what I say."

  Ray turned away from Todd and continued on the road leading toward the entranceway into the city.

  "Ray—" Sal started to say, but Ray cut him off.

  "You two stay behind a couple of steps and just wait for my orders. No more talking."

  The three walked in silence for a few minutes, then came into contact with others migrating toward the city. They stepped around the people in front of them, keeping their heads down and their legs moving. They weaved briskly through the people as Ray picked up the pace.

  The three entered the city to find it still somewhat deserted. With the two trailing behind, Ray adjusted his translator into place and hid it with his tan shemagh.

  At a corner tent ahead selling pottery, a man busily closed up his small business, strapping down tarps securely in place. Ray, Sal, and Todd passed by the merchant, and the man noticed the three walking with purpose. The thirty-year-old man, clothed in a grayish tunic, finished closing his shop and ran, catching up with the three, and then walked beside Ray. The man patted his forehead with a cloth, wiping the sweat from his brow, and grinned at Ray with only a dozen teeth left in his mouth.

  "Are you going to see Him?" the man asked Ray.

  With the hood of his cloak covering his face, Ray started distancing himself from the man until the words translated back through his translator. Ray quickly looked at the man, and as he did, he could see Sal and Todd start to make their way closer. Ray waved the two back and walked with the man, speaking to the merchant through his translator.

  "How do you know that I'm looking for a man?" Ray asked the merchant.

  Hearing Ray's voice, the man looked at him oddly for a few seconds. "Looking for a man?" the merchant asked, confused, while he wrapped the sweat-soaked cloth he used on his forehead around his neck.

  "Yes, how did you know that?" Ray said after a moment.

  "I'm going to the sermon. He's like no other, the Nazareth preacher. You must see Him."

  Ray slipped his hand toward his gun hidden under his cloak. He pointed the gun at the man's side with his right hand while placing his left hand on the merchant's shoulder, gently tapping the man's shoulder. The merchant smiled.

  "Yes. I'm here to see the Nazareth preacher," Ray said.

  "Then let us go together."

  The mini keyboard slid out from the side of Ray's weapon under his cloak, and he tapped three keys to tag the merchant. Ray glanced under his cloak to make sure he had keyed in the right command. On the small s
creen, he could make out: nonlethal/tag.

  Finger on the trigger, Ray eased the muzzle of his Smartround gun out from under his cloak and tagged the man beside him. With his gun back under his cloak, Ray removed his KA-BAR from its sheath and held it to the merchant's throat.

  "Run. The preacher is the only one who can save you if you see me again."

  Ray lowered the knife from the merchant's throat, and the man took off running. Ray slid the knife back into its sheath, removed his translator, and waited for Sal and Todd to reach him.

  "What the hell was that all about, Ray?" Todd asked.

  "Man got too close. Keep the same distance and follow me."

  Ray walked on, his back to the two.

  Todd looked at Sal with concern.

  "He isn't right, Sal.

  "What isn't right about him?"

  "The man got too close? What the hell did he mean by that? He's off. And you know it, Sal," Todd said quietly.

  "Are you trying to give me an order not to follow Ray?"

  "Of course we're going to follow. But there's something wrong with him. He's—"

  "I'm what?"

  Ray had made it back to Sal and Todd without making a sound. The two turned to see Ray standing not ten feet away—both caught way-the-fuck off guard. Sal and Todd thought they were talking amongst themselves. The two had taken their eyes off Ray for a few seconds—a bad move by both if they really wanted to converse privately.

  "Is there something you need to ask me, Todd?" Ray asked, tilting his head slightly.

 

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