In Tongues of the Dead

by Brad Kelln

  He felt a tug and saw that Matthew had grabbed his arm. Fuzzily, he thought how great it was that Matthew was finally reaching out, trying to connect. Then the world suddenly unfolded again. Sound came spilling over him. People were screaming and running — towards the officer who’d been hit by the bus, towards Benicio and Matthew. He couldn’t see Azazel and Shemhazai anywhere.

  Benicio knew he needed to get away. He stumbled a step or two, then started moving quickly. Matthew stayed glued to his side.

  After a block, Benicio turned to look for the angels. There were crowds of people, lines of cars. People crying and running around. Horns blaring. Sirens. The flash of a fire truck trying to get through the masses of people. It looked like a very small war zone. But he saw no angels.

  Azazel and Shemhazai. Could it really be them?

  He kept moving. He knew they were heading away from the courthouse and the police station, but he just needed to escape.

  He glanced back again. He wanted to be sure the angels weren’t following them.

  And froze.

  Maury and Jeremy were right across the street.

  LV

  Jake quickly walked away from the Killam Library, ducked down a side street, and headed toward Saint Andrew’s United.

  His jacket pocket rattled, and it took him a moment to realize his cell phone was ringing. He reached into his pocket.

  “Damn,” he said. He had found not his phone, but the big key Harold Grower had insisted he take at their last appointment. He put the key in another pocket, found the phone and flipped it open. “Dr. Tunnel.”

  “Jake?” Abby said. She sounded frantic. “You need to get here — I don’t know — they won’t give me an answer but it’s happening too fast and we’re not ready.” She sounded out of breath, and Jake was sure she was crying.

  “Whoa, hold on. I don’t understand.”

  “Wyatt!” she said, sobbing. “You need to get here! Now!”

  “What happened?” Jake asked but the bottom had already dropped out of his stomach.

  “The surgery! They took him in early. They took him down to surgery. We’ve been trying to call you for an hour. Get over here!”

  And she was gone.

  Jake held the phone to his ear and stared straight ahead, his mind racing. Maybe there had been a dead zone in the Dalhousie computer room, or maybe he hadn’t noticed the damn thing vibrating in his jacket. Abby must have been calling while he was searching the Internet. He’d been wasting time while his son was being operated on.

  He realized he was still holding the cell phone to his ear. He folded it up and returned it to his pocket. The hospital, he thought. I need to get there.

  He was only a few blocks away. He took a couple steps then saw someone waving at him.

  Benicio and Matthew. Running. Behind them Jake saw Saint Andrew’s United Church. And down the road he heard several sets of heavy footsteps. Also running.

  “Jake!” he heard a voice scream. Benicio’s?

  Jake couldn’t look away. He couldn’t figure out how to make his legs work or how to turn his head. Two large, rough-looking men were pounding down the street, pushing people out of their way. He recognized them. It was the two from earlier at his office, Maury and Jeremy, and they were chasing Matthew and Benicio.

  Benicio reached Jake’s side, looked over his shoulder then hurried Matthew and Jake off the sidewalk and across the church lawn. He kept pushing until they were around the corner of the building, out of sight of the road. On this side of the church, a fence provided some separation from the University buildings next door. It probably helped prevent student travel across the church grounds. Unfortunately, it meant that this little alcove was a dead end. Then Jake saw a shallow flight of stairs that led down to a heavy wooden door.

  “Where’s your car?” Benicio asked him. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Over there.” Jake pointed down Robie Street. “Ben, who are those thugs chasing you? What’s going on?”

  “Damn.” Benicio swore and looked around. He knew Maury and Jeremy would be on them in less than a minute. “I don’t have time to explain right now — we have to make a run for it. You take Matthew and start moving. I’ll try to keep those guys here so you can get away.”

  Jake took his hand out of his pocket to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and felt something hard and cold scrape along his brow. It was the heavy copper key. He looked at it as though seeing it for the first time.

  “Jake,” Benicio pleaded, “snap out of it!”

  And he did.

  He looked at the key, then at the old wooden door, and remembered Harold’s words: You need to have this. It will be your exit when you’re trapped. Look to the church.

  He ran down the stone stairs, jammed the old key into the weathered brass plate on the door, and turned it. The big metal key moved easily, and the door opened. “Come on,” he called to Benicio and Matthew.

  Maury and Jeremy ran to the church.

  “What the hell?” Jeremy said. He scanned the small area with the barrel of his gun. “Where’d they go?”

  “Put the gun away,” Maury snapped as he tucked his pistol into the waistband of his pants. “They either kept going down the street or they’re in there.” He pointed to the wooden door. He dropped down the few steps, pulled his gun again, grabbed the latch, and leaned hard on the door. It didn’t move. He jiggled the door handle and pushed again. “Locked,” he announced.

  “Ah, they didn’t fuckin’ use that door anyway,” Jeremy said.

  “Let’s go,” Maury grumbled. “They have to be around here somewhere.”

  And they took off.

  LVI

  Saint Andrew’s United Church was built just before World War I, and its foundation was a labyrinth of passages and corridors. There was another labyrinth under the city itself, a secret network of tunnels and underground trails that connected the harbor to the city’s first line of defense, the old fort on Citadel Hill, and then spread out under much of downtown Halifax.

  Right after the war, the military wanted to keep civilians out of the tunnels, so they sealed off and padlocked some of the entrances, but people just made new ones. Eventually, the haphazard construction and unauthorized access rendered many of the passageways unsafe. By the 1950s most of the tunnels had been sealed permanently.

  The tunnels under Saint Andrew’s United led in two directions: one east to the harbor and the other northwest to Citadel Hill. After the Second World War, the church had used the passages for storage. Then, during the Cold War, they considered using one of the tunnels as a bomb shelter, but the tunnel was unsafe — creaky, unstable joists, shifting dirt floors, and families of rats. The church sealed all but two of the entrances to its subterranean secrets.

  One entrance, padlocked, was at the back of the rector’s office. The other entrance had just been opened with the key Harold Grower had given Jake Tunnel.

  Jake, Benicio, and Matthew stood in the dark. Jake had locked the wooden door as soon as they were all inside, and not a moment too soon. They could hear muffled voices from outside. Then someone banged on the door and rattled the latch. Jake and Benicio froze. Jake fought the impulse to put his hand over Matthew’s mouth, to keep the boy from screaming. He squinted in the dim light drifting down from the floorboards above and saw that Matthew was standing like a statue. He seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings.

  They waited a few moments.

  “They’re gone,” Benicio whispered.

  “Did one of them have a gun?” Jake asked.

  Benicio nodded.

  “What the hell is going on? This is crazy.”

  Benicio stared at Jake with a strange expression.

  “What?” Jake finally asked.

  “Where’d that key come from?”

  Jake looked at his hand. He was still holding the oversized relic. “I don’t know. I mean, I know where I got it — a patient gave it to me. But I don’t know where he got it.”
<
br />   “When?”

  Jake looked confused.

  “When did he give it to you?” Benicio asked.

  “Couple of days ago.”

  “A patient gave you the key to the back door of this church just a couple of days ago? That seems kind of unbelievable, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.” He slipped the key into his pocket, trying to appear nonchalant. He wasn’t. He was freaked out that the key had worked. How could Harold have known I would need it? “Never mind about the key — who are those goons? And what the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. But I’m beginning to think the church would do anything to get Matthew. I think you and I are expendable.”

  “Expendable? Do you think you’re in a James Bond movie? Never mind — don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear it. I need to go now. My son is in surgery. I should be at the hospital.”

  “Wyatt,” a small voice said.

  In the dark, Jake couldn’t tell if Matthew had said it or not. It hadn’t been a question but more of a statement. “What did you say?” Jake asked Matthew.

  Matthew stared at the wall of the tunnel.

  Jake looked at Benicio. “What’s the deal with this kid?”

  “Jake, I just don’t know — that’s what we have to find out. And we have to do it before the church gets him — or anyone else.”

  “Anyone else? Like who?”

  Even in the dark Jake could tell Benicio was hesitating. Then, finally, the priest spoke. “Something just happened. There were two guys. They assaulted a couple of cops.”

  “They assaulted the police?”

  “Si. It was awful. So awful, I think they might not have been men at all.”

  “What?”

  “I think I just spoke with the Grigori.”

  “Gregory?”

  “No — the Grigori. I told you about them when we were in your office. The angels sent to Earth to help humans.”

  Jake remembered. “You still think this kid is half man, half angel?”

  “He is. I’m sure of it now.”

  “Ben, come on,” Jake pleaded. “I can’t do this fantasy Bible crap.”

  “It’s not crap. It’s why Matthew can read the Voynich. That ability is genetically programmed in him. It’s his language. The tongue of the forsaken — the Nephilim. Their story is a crucial part of the Bible. I should have realized it before. It was a part of Noah’s ark.”

  “Noah’s ark?” Jake was surprised.

  “Yes. Why was God so mad at the world? Why did He want to flood it and kill everyone?”

  “I don’t know. Something about people being sinners or worshipping other gods or something.”

  “Yeah, or something,” Benicio said. “Angels came down from Heaven, had sex, and the women bore children — the Nephilim. God hated those children.”

  “Why, Benicio? Why would God hate those children?”

  “They were an insult to Him. Earth and humankind were His creation. The angels tampered with it. The Nephilim were a bastard race, a blasphemy, an affront to nature. It’s in the New Testament: second Peter, chapter two, verse three. ‘For God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them into gloomy dungeons to be held for judgment’ — and so on. When he tried to kill them off, he destroyed the world. Only he didn’t get everyone. A few humans survived, and a few Nephilim survived.”

  Jake nodded, the hint of a smile on his face. “And this boy is one of that long-ago race, the Nephilim?”

  “I know how it sounds,” Benicio said. “That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  “I’m going now,” Jake announced. He was tired of all the nonsense. “You can have your Nephilim and your Necronomicon. I’m going to the hospital.” He put his hand on the doorknob.

  “Wait! Did you say Necronomicon? How do you know about the Necronomicon?”

  “I looked up your Voynich book on the Internet. I came across links to the Necronomicon.”

  “The Necronomicon,” Benicio repeated slowly. “The book of the dead.”

  “Yes, the book of the dead, the book of witchcraft and demonology.”

  “No,” Benicio said slowly. “Not witchcraft. That was a story to scare people away.”

  “Away from what?”

  Benicio looked at Jake, his eyes intense. “Only Nephilim can read the Voynich. The Voynich is their Bible — the Voynich is the Book of the Dead. It’s so obvious — why didn’t I see it before? The Voynich is the Bible of the Nephilim, the dead ones. The Book of the Dead. That’s why the church wants this boy. They want to control the book. We need to protect Matthew until we find the Voynich. Until he has a chance to read it for all the world to hear.”

  “You do realize that you are a lunatic?” Jake said flatly.

  “I know how it sounds, but we really need to get Matthew to read the Voynich.”

  “He can read it off the Internet. I just saw all the pages — they’re all archived there.”

  Benicio shook his head. “I’m not sure that would work. The father told me that copies are useless — only the original manuscript can be read.”

  “Listen, we’ll have to figure this out later. I really do need to get to the hospital. Wyatt went into surgery already.”

  “Oh, my God. I’m sorry. I should never have dragged you into this.”

  “No,” Jake said firmly. “I want to help. I just need to be with my wife and son right now.”

  There was a thump from somewhere in the church above. Benicio held up a hand to silence Jake.

  “Hey, Father Valori!” Jeremy’s voice sang out. “Are you in here praying?”

  “Shut up,” Maury barked.

  Benicio leaned close to Jake. “They’re in the church. You should go, now!”

  “But I want you to come with me. We can all go, and then I can take you guys back to the house after.”

  “But Maury and Jeremy might come after us there,” Benicio whispered. “I wouldn’t want to risk them following us to the hospital.”

  Jake said nothing. He knew Benicio was right.

  “Unless,” Benicio said slowly, “you take Matthew with you and I’ll lead Maury and Jeremy away. I’ll distract them. Matthew would be safe with you at the hospital.”

  “What about you?” Jake argued. “Will you be safe?”

  Benicio smiled. “I have God on my side. Now go.”

  Jake turned to the door and opened it a crack. He couldn’t see anyone.

  Benicio knelt and spoke to Matthew. “Go with this man. He’s going to take you somewhere safe and then I’ll come see you a little later. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  No response.

  “It looks okay out there,” Jake reported. “Is he ready?”

  Benicio stood and nodded. “Go ahead, Matthew.”

  Jake started out the door, and Matthew fell into step behind him.

  LVII

  “Dio mi assista!” May God help me, Benicio whispered after Jake and Matthew were gone. “Now what?”

  He looked into the tunnel. The entrance was framed with old planks, but the wood looked rotten and damp. He stuck his head in and saw three passages, each about six feet high and four feet wide. He barely had room to move.

  Benicio hoped one of the passages would go under the church to the front entrance, so he could get out and lead Maury and Jeremy away.

  He would have to move quickly. If they found him down here he’d be trapped.

  He chose the right-hand passage.

  The floor was hard-packed dirt, and the walls were buttressed with rough timber, which to Benicio’s eye looked a bit chewed — probably rats. He hated rats. The plank floor of the church was just over his head, and occasional gaps let in a dim light.

  He had only gone a few dozen yards when he came to a much narrower side passage. He could fit, but only just. He stuck his head in. There was almost no light. He heard a rustling sound, and before he could move something dropped from the wall to
the dirt floor and scuttled between his feet, brushing against him. Then it darted into the main tunnel.

  A rat.

  “Che!” He jumped back. There was no way he was going down that dark, rat-infested passage. He looked into the main tunnel but could only see a foot or two; then it curved sharply to the right. He took three steps, rounded the curve — and came face to face with Maury.

  Benicio took a step back and bumped into something soft. The something put a hand on his shoulder. It was Jeremy.

  “Can we have a quick word with you, Father?” Jeremy asked.

  Then Benicio felt something crash into the side of his head. He slumped to his knees and saw flashes of light cascading all around him. Jeremy hit him again, and Benicio fell to the ground.

  Then everything went black.

  LVIII

  Jake walked warily up the steps from the church basement, Matthew right on his heels. Jake looked right and saw a swirling circus of people farther down Spring Garden Road. He scanned Robie Street and saw that the coast was clear. He headed down the street toward University Avenue.

  Once at the intersection of Robie and University, they had to wait — the light was red. Jake kept looking all around, hoping they hadn’t been followed. So far, so good.

  The light changed, and he and Matthew walked the few blocks to the children’s hospital. As they neared the building, Jake sped up. Concern for his son suddenly blocked his anxiety about being followed. He crossed in front of the new parkade and was about to turn into the hospital when he stopped and looked back. Matthew had fallen behind.

  “C’mon, buddy,” he called in what he hoped was a friendly tone. “We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

  Matthew didn’t respond or change his pace. He trotted up to Jake and slowed. Jake looked down at the boy and shook his head. He couldn’t believe the enormous controversy being stirred up over this child. How could any of it be true?