The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One)

by Edward Crichton

  We were lucky none of them actually looked before they threw their grenades. Most landed in front of the containers and the rest fell harmlessly enough that we just kicked them away. I still managed to get nicked in the leg with a glancing piece of shrapnel when I covered Helena from a grenade that went off on top of our barricade. Most of the team took a piece of something here and there. But we were holding. Hopefully for not much longer, because we had to counterattack and get the hell out of here fast.

  Twenty minutes into the firefight, it got to the point where their dead provided extra coverage in front of our barricade. Their bodies also littered the stairs, and blocked the doorway. We were about to try the radio again, when our prisoner decided to wake up. It must have taken him awhile to fully regain consciousness, but all of us were too distracted to notice. Still tied, he got up and made his way to the bag Santino had put his glowing ball in. It wasn’t until he took the ball out, and the blue light illuminated the room that I noticed him.

  Ball in hands, he lifted it high over his head, staring right at me.

  “With this device, the servants of Allah will finally…”

  A stray bullet from the enemy upstairs nailed him between the eyes. He fell to his knees, eyes rolling into the back of his head, dead before he hit the floor.

  I caught Santino’s eye and he smiled at me.

  As Abdullah’s body crumpled to the floor, the sphere fell from his hands and rolled in my direction. I was immediately enticed by its glow as I watched it roll closer. Its allure grew as it thudded against my boot. Staring down at it, I saw clouds swirl from within like the epicenter of a hurricane, revealing a cavern filled with men dressed in white robes kneeling reverently. An additional lone figure stood in the background, clearly not a part of the group.

  Unable to contain my desire to reach for the orb, I bent over and picked it up in my gloved left hand. I barely noticed the bullets whizzing their way past my head as I peered ever closer. I couldn’t discern any details from the images within, nor were they overly interesting. They appeared as a still photo would and were grainier than a photograph from the 1940s, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Like the blaze of a fire or the steady drip of a leaky faucet, for some reason I was entranced by what I was seeing.

  With my right index finger, the only finger not covered by my gloves, I poked at the sphere. My hand moved without thought, without conviction, but it moved all the same. The globe felt soft, despite its hard façade, made out of a material completely foreign to me and I felt my finger begin to push through the surface. At this point I was completely oblivious to the sounds of battle raging on around me. All I could think about was the silky surface of the sphere and how I knew I had to probe deeper. Buried to the second knuckle, my finger suddenly felt resistance, then, a tugging sensation. It was gentle at first, but soon became very persistent, steadily pulling my finger inside. It wasn’t long before my entire hand was submerged in the sphere.

  That’s when I started to panic.

  I didn’t feel any pain at first, but when the tugging stopped, my eyes widened in terror at what I somehow knew was coming. It was the calm before the storm. In one instantaneous moment, all the insanity occurring around me became nothing, before becoming something again. The globe instantaneously sucked the entire room inside out in one fell swoop, taking everything with it in a brilliant blue explosion. The dead bodies, my friends, the containers, even the staircase. It was the single most nauseating experience of my life. More so than the roller coasters as a kid, the weekend drinking binges during college, or the life threatening rolling truck little more than an hour ago. It was the same with the pain. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt, or dreamed I could have felt, it was if my very soul was being ripped from my body only to be stitched back together, piece by piece.

  I fell to the floor and felt my muscles automatically clench in the vain hope of staving off the pain. My body tried too little, too late. My eyes stung, my mouth parched, my brain fried, my stomach churned, my bowls threatened to do something I’d soon regret, and every shred of my being seemed to be on fire.

  But, just as the pain began, which seemed like a million years ago, it just as quickly ended. It was gone. In the blink of an eye, the most unimaginable pain I’ve ever experienced rescinded to nothing and even the memory of what it had felt like was quickly fading.

  I blinked my eyes.

  We were in a cavern, a big one, with dead bodies littered all over the place. Before I could take in more of my surroundings, the stair case behind me collapsed and fell to pieces. My first thought was to make sure Helena was all right. I struggled to my knees and felt her neck for a pulse. It was steady, and her breathing was normal, but even though she was drugged before the transition, the painful reentry jarred her awake. Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on me.

  “What happened?” she asked weakly, before going under again.

  “I have no idea,” I responded to myself.

  Santino was already on his feet, eyes darting back and forth, looking for a way out. He noticed I was also conscious and helped me up to survey the area together. I was looking at the pile of corpses in front of us when he poked me in the arm. I turned to see him staring in the other direction.

  “What…” I started to say just as I noticed what he was looking at. What I saw couldn’t be real. I was looking at the same group of toga wearing men I had seen through the orb. They were in the same semicircle I saw before, all kneeling in our direction. And they all seemed just as surprised as we were.

  Santino and I exchanged glances, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t help but say something.

  “Togas?” He asked, peering at the men. “So, where’s the keg?”

  Part Two

  V

  Rome

  Location: Unknown

  Date: Unknown

  “So. Jacob.” Santino said offhandedly. “Want to fill me in on what the fuck you just did?”

  I looked at him, his expression a reflection of my own.

  Neither one of us had any idea what was going on.

  The faces of the men arrayed before us were likewise confused. They seemed more shocked than frightened, but where I knew we could take them in a fight, they didn’t seem so sure. Not surprising considering these men were no taller than five and a half feet, and were wearing what looked like togas, compared to us in our body armor. Even Wang stood above the men, and he was the smallest of us all. He was still working on McDougal and Helena, as Bordeaux and Vincent joined Santino and me.

  “Who are they?” Bordeaux asked.

  “I can’t even begin to guess,” Vincent said, squinting carefully at the men, “but, as odd as this may sound, they’re dressed like ancient Romans.”

  Well, they were wearing togas. Just like the ones worn by thousands of college students every year at the ever popular “toga party”. But these were different somehow, more genuine, used, and worn in. There was a thick stretch of purple, about three inches wide, running down the main opening seam on two men’s togas. If these people really were Romans, even though I knew they couldn’t possibly be, that could signify a number of things. Certain kinds of magistrates, I couldn’t remember which, or maybe augurs, ridiculous sight seers who determined a man’s fate based on whether or not it was an eagle or a crow that took a shit on you.

  I shook my head. Roman fashion hadn’t been my forte. Besides, this wasn’t really happening. We couldn’t possibly be standing in the presence of ancient Romans. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. There always was.

  Right?

  Maybe... maybe Santino was right, and we somehow happened into a college toga party in the middle of Syria. What other explanation could there be? I knew I couldn’t be dreaming. If I was, I’m pretty damn sure ancient Romans wouldn’t be here, or Santino, and Helena would either be naked or wearing something slutty and certainly wouldn’t be unconscious.

  I tried to think.

  I did to
uch that glowing ball thing, whatever that was. But how could that have caused all this? I could barely remember what it had even done at this point, even though I remember that I should be remembering something. Even if I believed it somehow had something to do with this, that meant we just found a glowing, blue time machine.

  As stupid as that sounds.

  Only one way to find out. Plan B. If it failed, at least we’ll be able to pick up a beer pong game or two.

  “Vincent, I’m going to try something, back me up.”

  “What are you…?”

  I unslung my rifle and handed it off to Bordeaux, whose jaw hung limp in its sockets. Cautiously, I approached the men with my hands up. Thinking back to my old Latin classes, I did the best I could.

  “Meus animus et summus pacis.”

  Yeesh. Was I really that rusty?”

  I believe I said, “Me friend and we are peace.” I always got tripped up on those damn endings. Hopefully, it was close enough to get the message across. Sure, it relied on these guys actually being Romans, or at least a classically oriented fraternity, neither of which seemed overly plausible, but what else could I do?

  The “Romans/frat boys” looked at each other, perhaps wondering who this barbarian was butchering their language, perhaps wondering where the nearest bikinis-only jello fight was. I wouldn’t blame them on the language issue. Speaking Latin is harder than it seems. It’s a dead language for a reason, and while it may be used daily in medical and law professions, its conversational usage went extinct centuries before I was born.

  I just hope I got the point across.

  One of the men stood up, and after glancing at his partners, said, “Salve.”

  “Hello.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Speak English?” I asked hopefully, to no response.

  “Parlez-vous Français?” Bordeaux offered, to even more blank expressions.

  Damn. They were Romans. Or maybe a Latin club? I shook my head and looked over at Vincent, his expression likewise in shock. I caught his eye, still not believing my own ears. “I guess you’re going to have to talk to them, Vincent. My Latin is beyond rusty. I’ll see how the Major is.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said awkwardly, still not completely buying it that these guys were Romans either, “but you know as well as I that nobody really speaks Latin anymore.”

  “Seems they do now,” Santino mumbled.

  I ignored him. “Write it down and...” I paused, forcing myself to believe my own words, “show it to them or something, just make sure they know we mean them no harm.”

  He nodded shakily.

  My mind was whirling, but Romans or no, time travel or no, alien abduction or...

  Stop it.

  We still had wounded. No idea what to think, I made my way to their position. Both had their eyes closed, but I knew McDougal was in far worse shape. It wasn’t until I got close enough to use my flashlight that I saw Wang pressing a defibrillator against McDougal’s chest. The transportation effect must have been too much for him.

  As I arrived, Wang’s shoulders were slumped in defeat, and he dropped the paddles to the floor.

  I knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  He choked back tears as he glanced up at me. “He was a great man, Hunter. I served with him for years, and he never let me down. He pulled me out of a burning helicopter once, and carried me all the way home. But I couldn’t help him now. I couldn’t save him.”

  I looked over at McDougal’s mustached face, before slowly pulling the blanket from the cot over his head.

  “It’s not your fault, James. If anything, it’s mine. If I hadn’t flipped that truck, he may still be alive. Hell, we may be back on the Triumph by now.”

  “No. I was in front with you. I saw what you did. To hell with the ROE, you swerved to miss that man and his child. You did the right thing.” He paused. “Look, I need to clean up here. Make sure Strauss is all right. She should be awake by now.”

  “Okay.”

  No point in telling him it might have been my fault that we arrived here as well. Wang had enough on his mind.

  I shifted positions so that I was facing Helena. She seemed fine, her breathing was regular, and her skin color was normal. I put a hand on her forehead, noting it likewise felt fine, before I whispered for her to wake up.

  Her eyelids fluttered open.

  “I was dreaming,” she said, shifting her eyes towards mine. “I dreamt of men with red capes and swords. It was… weird.”

  I smirked. “How are you feeling? Can you move? We may need to get out of here in a hurry.”

  “I think so, but you’re going to need to help me up.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m here.”

  I helped her straighten into a sitting position, but she was able to swing her legs over the side of the cot on her own. She rested her elbows on her knees and supported her head in her hands for a few seconds. She tilted her head up to look at me as she kneaded her temples.

  “I think I have the worst headache I’ve ever had. There is no way you’re driving next time.”

  “Somehow…” I said, gesturing to our surroundings. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well I’m not sure exactly, but all I know is, and this is going to sound really odd, we somehow traveled back in time to the days of ancient Rome.”

  She stared at me, probably considering whether to punch me or shoot me. Probably deciding both required more effort than she could summon at the moment, instead, she decided to threaten me.

  “Hunter, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s really going on in the next ten seconds, I promise, I will kill you.”

  I chuckled. That would be a fun fight.

  “I’m not kidding.” I paused. “McDougal didn’t make it.”

  Her hands sprang up to cover her mouth as she looked at the cot next to her, noticing the covered corpse.

  “What happened?”

  “I told you. We went back in time, and the trip wasn’t easy. It was the single most painful experience I have ever endured. You were drugged up, so it probably didn’t register as badly, but McDougal was just barely hanging in there. The transition was too stressful on his system. It killed him. Wang did what he could, but it wasn’t enough.”

  Helena looked over to where Wang knelt next to the body of his long time commander, still cleaning his medical supplies. His face was a mess, a reflection of his failure and guilt. Helena’s glance lingered respectfully, before turning back to me.

  “Say I believe you. What do we do now?”

  “Again, I’m not sure, but Vincent is talking to these people. We think they’re Roman because they’re speaking Latin and wearing togas. Not a lot to go on, I know, but...” I waited, trying to rationalize everything, “...oh fuck it. Let’s go see what Vincent’s got.” I stood. “Need a hand?”

  I offered her my hand, which she lightly grasped. Gently, I helped her up until we both realized she needed way more help than what was already being offered. I had to swing one of her arms over my shoulder, and wrap my own arm around her waist, supporting her entire frame against my own to keep her from collapsing under her own weight.

  I grunted slightly with the effort. She was heavier than she looked. “Gee, Strauss, lay off the desserts next time, will ya?”

  “I’m not kidding this time. I will kill you.”

  I didn’t laugh. “Come on.”

  We approached Vincent and the men in togas conversing when I noticed another man, clearly not part of the group, slinking towards the only exit. He noticed my attention and quickened his pace, his face ablaze in terror. He was gone before I could say anything.

  I guess we’ll have a welcoming party when we get out of here.

  Vincent clasped a fist over his chest, indicating the conversation was over.

  He turned, and everyone, save Wang, gathered to try and make some sense of it all.


  “So?” I asked.

  “Well,” Vincent started. “It turns out we have in fact traveled to the days of ancient Rome, and from what I can gather, during the time of Caligula,” he paused. “Simply amazing.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Santino commented, offering his usual, helpful two cents.

  “But how is that possible?” Bordeaux asked, his French accent thickening from the stress of the moment. “What possibly could have done such a thing?”

  “They didn’t say,” was the only thing Vincent could report, shrugging.

  The last thing I remembered was that glowing ball, and knew it had something do with our predicament.

  “I know,” I said. “At least, I think I do. That sphere Santino picked up from Abdullah’s room had to have done it. During the firefight, I picked it up, and saw this exact room and those men within it. Then, when I touched it, I felt it pull me through, I guess taking everything in the room with me. I don’t know why it didn’t activate when Abdullah held it.”

  Everyone just stared at me. They had no idea how to respond. They didn’t cover time travel back in basic, in any of our countries’ boot camps.

  “You realize we’re all dreaming right now, right?” Santino said a few moments later. “I mean, we’re standing in the middle of an impossibly paradoxical situation right now. In fact, I’m just about to wake up with Strauss rubbing my feet and feeding me a smoothie. Bordeaux, pinch me, will ya?”

  Bordeaux pinched his arm, shrugging sadly when nothing happened. Never one to give up so easily, Santino slapped his face.

  “Shut up, Santino.” Helena said angrily at the display.

  “He is right, though,” I added. “And he did use the word ‘paradoxical’ properly. I’m impressed.”

  I tossed Santino a thumbs up, and he grinned stupidly, loving Helena’s scowling expression.

  “The point is, wherever we are...” Helena informed us, splitting her attention between each of us, “there’s nothing we can do about it right now. We need to focus on getting home.”