The shorter Gul reached up, firmly grabbed Khel by the shoulder, and pulled him further down the mountainside. Of the two men, he was the one with daily cheer, sometimes quite abundant. But quickly, his mood changed, and he wanted to correct Khel, in order to prevent him from possibly sinking into despair. Gul looked sternly into Khel’s eyes and chided in a strong whisper, “No! Do not say that. You are just imagining it. I have not heard anything about you or anything bad said about you. You are just too worried.” Gul continued to assure him, “Do not forget. I am with you, and we do this together.”
With his head still down, Khel responded half-heartedly, “I know…”
“Now,” Gul gave Khel a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “do not worry. You will be safe. We have worked long, hard, and carefully for what we know is right. Have confidence in knowing what we are doing is right. It is for the greater good.”
Khel looked to the sky and took a deep breath. “Yes, brother.”
“Soon we will meet him. I am told he is coming soon. Be strong and wait with me.” Gul’s smile returned, “We press on, and we will both see him.”
With his mood beginning to turn, Khel asked, “Do you think God has begun to give him his abilities and powers?”
“He must be receiving them,” Gul answered, “because he is not to see us until his abilities start being revealed.”
Khel added, “Then, God must also be starting to write the name for him - the symbol - on his wrist.”
“Yes, and it is the name for him from this time onward,” Gul replied. “Let us pray that he has begun to see he is being given a sacred responsibility.”
“Will he know what he will need to do?” Khel asked.
At that moment, a hot breeze blew past them, mingling with the cool air. It was similar to the foreboding hot and cool winds just before a desert storm, in a distant land where both Gul and Khel once were.
Before answering, Gul glanced up to feel the wind and remembered that time long ago.
About seven years ago, that distant land was in Iraq, approximately fifty miles southeast from the ancient city of Babylon, which is now the modern-day city of Al Hillah in Babil, Iraq.
On one pivotal day, Gul and Khel stood side by side at the perimeter of an archeological excavation site. They were archeologists by trade and part of a Babylonian antiquities team, sanctioned by the country.
Behind them, an almost square, twenty-by-twenty-meter trench had been dug out of the sand. It reached down into the earth, diagonally shaped like a wedge, at a depth of about half its length.
At the deep bottom of the site’s western end, the excavators were met by what seemed to be the top edge of two, thick, large black granite doors. There, several people took their turn to cautiously dig further down to completely expose the doors.
It was dusk, and the two men faced the setting sun. The beautiful orange and red hues of sunlight were just beginning to paint the horizon of the flat desert sky.
At that moment, Gul felt the alternating hot and cool winds. “A storm approaches,” he remarked.
Khel gazed up into the sky, pensive. With a stiffened upper body, his head turned and searched the sky. All the heavens were perfectly clear. Unconvinced, he faced the sun once again. After some silence, Khel finally stated with a voice devoid of emotion, “Not this night, my brother.”
Gul smiled and reached up to pat his friend’s shoulder, “Well, even so, I think we must try to break through tonight. I fear the storm may come unexpected.”
After Gul spoke his words, another hot breeze whipped and blew their dusty dirt-stained desert robes. Immediately after, a cool wind blustered, in the opposite direction.
Later that evening, Khel, Gul, and three others used brushes and small trowels to carefully work through and into the night hours. A handful of lanterns, at their feet, lit their progress.
Generator-powered floodlights stood tall, along the perimeter of the site, providing additional light from above. The floodlights illuminated and faded at random intervals, due to the fluctuating generator feed. Everything else outside the site’s perimeter was pitch black, as though nothing else in the universe existed that night, apart from the glowing four-cornered patch of earth.
As time passed, the winds began to strengthen and whip up above them, sending sand back down into the trench.
Khel and Gul were on their knees, beside each other, chiseling and brushing away the earth. Feeling the wind from above swiftly swirl down around them, they looked up into the black sky.
Khel quickly turned his attention back to his work. With his head down, he commented, “It will not rain, my brother, it is just the wind.”
Gul smiled and replied, “Whether I am right or wrong about the storm, Malik, let us all hurry our pace with care.”
Gul called for two others above them for their assistance, and together, they quickened their work.
Men above began to stretch a large canvas over the site. Others prepared sandbags to protect the perimeter from the possibility of abundant rain.
After another three hours, their total progress had summed to clearing dirt and sand from the top edge of the granite doors, down to the base. It was wide enough to give sufficient room for the four of them to stand in front of the doors.
All of the remaining excavation team, more than a dozen of them carrying lanterns, stood in apprehension just above them, around the top edge of the doors.
Upon examining the double doors, they found, chiseled into the black granite, figures of fighting dragons, sparring lions, and striding bulls: typical artistic adornment preferred by King Nebuchadnezzar II.
Their excitement heightened.
With two men positioned in front of one door, and the other two in front of the other door, they began to try to push them open.
But nothing moved.
They pushed harder and groaned louder.
The past centuries seemed to want to keep them out.
Two more men crammed in with them, but their collective force failed.
The winds above them picked up, rattling the tall lamps in their positions around the site.
Sand blew into their hair and eyes.
Then, all six of them planted their feet against the dirt wall surrounding them. Simultaneously, using their legs more forcefully, they pushed and grunted and heaved.
Finally, the granite doors began to slide and grate over the sand underneath, moving only the width of two fingers.
The men stopped. Nevertheless, they were elated, and with their faces showing both surprise and joy, they shouted in celebration.
The winds above became more turbulent, knocking over a handful of lamps, and making them ring with the sound of clanging metal. Two men rushed up to the surface to stabilize the lamp stands.
A couple men thought they felt tiny droplets of rain strike their faces.
Hastily now, realizing their moment of opportunity grew short, they positioned themselves once more and exerted all that they could against the doors.
This time, the heavy doors inched open more easily. After several more attempts, they had opened a gap wide enough for one man to squeeze through sideways.
The men above gave the first lantern to Gul, who handed it to Khel. They lowered a second one to Gul, and then another two lanterns for the other men.
Khel stuck the lantern through the opening and peered inside. He paused momentarily, awestruck. He moved once again, sliding his tall slender body through.
A flash of lightning tore through the veil of darkness in the night sky. A few short seconds after, the ominous blaring sound of thunder followed. It made them all pause, as the sound trembled within them.
In amazement, Gul followed cautiously behind Khel.
After them, other men took their turn to enter.
It was a grand hall, in a never-before discovered palace of Nebuchadnezzar II. He had created this as a distant extension of his main palace, situating it far away from the center of the ancient city of Babylon. T
he excavation team had long searched for its location. Years of planning and preparation, and seeking authorization, had paved the way to this moment.
Gul and Khel walked together into the enormous and voluminous hall.
Even though the lanterns were dim, their beams of light filled the hall, due to the reflective metallic content of the majestic granite walls. The black granite walls were naturally embedded with coin-sized, metallic, dark bronze and metallic brown speckles.
The two stopped and gazed, in wonder and awe, at the tall, green, and black marble statues, the gigantic polished tables, and the threatening stone-hewn pillars that supported the complete structure of the hall.
In time, they found themselves at the center of the longer northern wall. On it was an enormous etching of Nebuchadnezzar on his throne, reaching the height of the wall itself. At either side of the king were scenes of his triumphant wars etched into the stone wall.
Four other scenes were etched into separate large rectangular black granite, themselves about the size of heavy large doors. They were staggered equidistantly at about ten steps from each other. Each stood an arm’s length away from the wall, held in place by long rectangular beams - chiseled from stone - that were placed horizontally on the front and back of the base of the granite scenes, keeping them standing.
Gul and Khel stopped in front of one in particular.
It depicted the great king, on the right, gazing into a field of battle with his thousands of warriors before him. On the left, there seemed to be only a hundred fighters facing and opposing Nebuchadnezzar’s men. Above the king and warriors, two men on horseback were etched: one on the upper right and the other on the upper left. They seemed to be charging toward each other, riding in the air. Beside each horseman was carved something quite extraordinary, something they had never intended to see, and something they had not expected to find in Babylonian antiquity.
At the moment, two high-energy bolts of lightning simultaneously flashed and struck the ground above: one on the east and one on west side of the excavation site. On impact, they electrified and repeatedly arced upon the sand, over a wide area, melting sand into glass. Their movement seemed random. However, the etchings they created revealed unmistakably circular patterns. A pair of symbols was seared into the sand.
An instant later, one single clap of thunder blared and reverberated, high above them. The sound plunged into the depth of the great hall, blasting and echoing against the solid walls.
It froze all the men in their stance.
Some covered their ears, as the tremendous boom bounced from wall to wall.
The echoes took several moments to fade.
The men waited in fear, not knowing whether another would follow.
Khel took a short sidestep closer to Gul. His head bent down to his friend. Wide-eyed and sheepish, he said in a hush, “Omar, I think it might rain.”
A smile whipped onto Gul’s face. He tilted his head back in amusement, realizing that his reserved and taciturn friend had just inadvertently and unknowingly said something humorous. He would have laughed out loud were it not for the lingering anxiety within him.
Heavy rain and icy hail indeed followed. They heard both the snapping of rain against the canvas sheltering the site and the pining of hail colliding into the tall metal lamps.
It took a long while, but finally, the two men gained enough courage to move once again.
At either side of the granite scene, they saw elegant urns standing about waist-high. The two men slowly walked to an urn and peered inside. Holding their lanterns above, they saw scrolls inside each urn.
The scrolls were a fantastic discovery.
Months later, Gul and Khel would finish translating them. The words therein revealed magnificent tales and wondrous histories. The two men saw this knowledge as a grave responsibility they needed to protect, and because of it, their lives profoundly changed.
Feeling the hot breeze mingled with the cold air on the mountain of northern Pakistan, Gul gazed up through the trees and into the bright sunlit sky above, searching for clouds. Looking back down, he started to answer Khel’s question, “We will need to give him as much knowledge as we can. And we will guide him. We need to help him, so he can do great things. You and I, brother, we will help him.”
Gul’s words helped to lift Khel’s spirit. Years ago, both men had changed the paths of their lives, from being men of science to being men of war, because of what they believed was an honorable and sacred duty. But the strain under that duty was beginning to wear away Khel’s resolve to continue. The destruction, anger, and death he had witnessed over the years were becoming too painful for him to bear. In his heart, he felt he was a simple man, one who took joy in discovering ancient civilizations and ancient artifacts - a simple archeologist wielding tools of discovery and not a hardened warrior carrying weapons of destruction. He could never be such a warrior. However, now mustering as much courage he could, for his close friend, he looked Gul in the eyes and showed a brief uncharacteristic smile, saying, “We stand together.”
Gul shook Khel’s shoulder in approval, and then they continued walking across the side of the mountain. After a brief moment, Gul said, “They say they will soon decide a date and targets. But I think these have already been decided, and they are not willing to reveal it to the rest of us too soon.”
Khel agreed, “Yes. And there are other coordination now happening. I have also heard there will be movement by the Russians soon.”
Gul examined the ground in front of him, as he walked. Then, he stopped and looked around. “We will need to communicate this at our next possible chance.” Seeing movement in the distance, he said, “Come. I see someone approaching.”
* * * * * * *
Still on his back between the couch and coffee table, the goateed man lay.
Lifting his arm to his eyes, he stared at the symbol on his wrist once more. Its crisp lines intrigued him. The black markings penetrated deep into his skin. Directing his mind to scan the region, he saw that the tendons of his wrist were even discolored in black. All the cells under the surface of the symbol - skin, tendon, veins, and bone - were marked with the symbol.
He had been seared through and through: through flesh and bone.
With his thumb, he rubbed the skin on his wrist a couple of times, to feel the texture. It was smooth skin. Then, carefully, and slowly, he rubbed his wrist once again. He could feel no bumps or protrusions that were out of the ordinary.
Recovered from the ordeal of his dream, he picked himself up from the floor. With his hands on top of his head, he stood for a long time looking out his window.
He started to try to put together all that was happening to him: his ability to make and unmake things, his ability to sense what objects were made of, and the words that were said in his dream, and now the symbol on his wrist.
Two things that were said in his dream gave him both curiosity and dismay. He remembered, “I’ve always known You,” and, “What is coming will burn you and those around you.”
He tried to dismiss them by saying, “But stuff is said and done all the time in dreams that don’t amount to anything.”
He paused. “It’s just a dream…right? Maybe?” He thought about it for a while.
Finally, he shook his head, saying, “No. It couldn’t have been just a dream. I’ve got a killer burn on my arm to prove it. And now, what is it that’s gonna come and burn me and the people around me?”
Still thinking out loud, he said, “This tatt burned me. Are the people I know gonna have the same dream-burning session?” He grinned. “Now, that’s just dumb. It’s gotta be something else.”
Lowering his hands from his head, he turned from the window and walked around his couch, to get a glass of water from the kitchen. As he passed by his front door, he noticed that a three-by-five index card had been slid under the door. He picked it up and read it. The block-lettered writing was similar to the note he found on the wine bottle left outside his door.<
br />
The words were in three sections.
At the top of the card was written, “So, you’re ready to play the epic game? My third move: In two days, 3 PM. During your family trip - the best morning coffee.”
Then written at the center was, “If you don’t show up, people die. Involve third parties, even more die.”
At the bottom was written, “How do you stop a falling object?”
He became disheartened and angry simultaneously. He flicked the note toward his TV and thought, “Who the hell is this guy? How does he know what’s happening to me? How does he know we went to D.C.?”
He recalled his family trip to Washington, D.C. During one morning, before heading out to see more sites, his family stopped by a diner. Something about the morning made it a perfect start to their day, maybe the cool breezy air, or the nice, talkative, white-haired old woman serving them at the diner. His wife began to rave about the coffee, and he had to agree. From that time on, they spent the rest of their vacation mornings at that diner.
Then, he thought, “Third party…great. The FBI is already coming in a few days, about the New York City murder and the note. I can’t stop that now.”
Walking to the kitchen, he grabbed a glass from the counter, filled it with water from the faucet, and drank from it. Afterwards, he made his way back to the couch and sat down. As he thought, he pulled his hair back with his fingers.
He still didn’t want to have any part of this game, but he was being dragged in. Even though he’d prefer to be a spectator in life or even shut out the world if necessary, it was becoming difficult for him to just allow people to die, when he knew he had the ability to save them. He was beginning to accept the unfolding events. In a strange way, it gave him purpose, even though it was one not of his choosing. But he still had lingering hesitance for being part of it and disbelief that he was a piece in this epic game.
“Epic game,” he whispered. “What the heck does that mean?” He paused for a moment. Then thinking about another part of the note, he asked, “So, how do you stop a falling object?”
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 16