Delta

by L. Todd Wood

  He had learned everything he could online about the Circus Maximus. The only thing to do now was to go there. There were no flights to Italy until early the next morning.

  He decided to call his ex-wife for an update on Clare’s disappearance.

  “So you’re not even coming back to help me, you fucker? I’m gonna kill you, or better yet my dad’s gonna kill you! How dare you leave me here to take care of this? Of course, that’s par for the course, I took care of everything, you loser! Fuck you!” She hung up the phone after at least telling him there was no more news and the police had no leads. Rafe thanked the stars again he was no longer in that relationship. He stared out the window towards the old city of Barcino, wondering how that ancient time could be connected to him now and the disappearance of his daughter. Nothing came to him.

  So, he then booked two tickets online to Rome from Barcelona the next morning. All of a sudden, he was very tired. Rafe stripped down to his underwear and slid into bed besides Cecelia. She slid close to him and put her arms around him. “We’ll find her,” she said softly as she drifted back to sleep. Rafe lay awake for an eternity until finally drifting off from exhaustion, only to be awakened by the alarm on his phone a few hours later

  The flight to Rome was uneventful. Rafe had no idea what he was doing or why. He only knew that he was sure it was the right thing to do. Someone wanted him here, he was confident of that, someone who wanted to tell him about Clare. The anxiety he felt was overwhelming. She was so young and helpless. She needed him and he couldn’t find her. He was letting her down. Slowly his anxiety turned to rage. I’m coming, my angel. Just tell me where you are somehow!

  Rafe was jerked back to reality as the plane thudded onto the runway. Soon they were in a taxi headed into the old city. Rome was like any modern urban area, the sprawl emanated out from the original outline of the planned community. Rome had an uneasy relationship with the northern city of Milan. She had a reputation of living off the efforts and hard work of the northern Italians. The financial muscle of Milan and her fashion credentials stood in contrast to the decaying economy of Rome. Many of the people in the city lived off the government dole.

  The taxi left them outside the ticket booth for the Foro Romano. They were able to buy tickets quickly as there was no line; it was late in the day. “It’s only open for one more hour,” explained the ticket agent. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back tomorrow? There is a lot to see and one hour is not much time.”

  “Yes, we’re sure,” Rafe replied. The middle-aged woman rolled her eyes, took his credit card, and handed him the tickets. She had tried to warn the foreigner.

  They entered the fenced-in area and made a left to go up towards Palatine Hill and the expansion of the old city which emanated from the Forum. As the centuries had progressed, wealthy Romans built more and more palaces expanding out from the center of the metropolis. The Circus Maximus was one of these projects that sat on the far end of the plateau. It took about fifteen minutes of walking to get there. Both of them had broken a sweat in the late day heat.

  They arrived on the southeastern edge of the arena and gazed out over the open, sunken space. It was an oblong-shaped course surrounded by a stone wall rising on all sides. In the center were old statues and gardens where the emperor’s guests had sat and enjoyed the festivities while watching whatever sporting event was taking place. An oval track followed just inside the curved walls.

  Rafe pulled out his map and found the directions he had drawn to the Mythraim, courtesy of Fernando. They found the stone stairway down the western wall and retreated down into the catacombs of the facility. Soon they were immersed in a labyrinth of tunnels and underground spaces that supported the arena. Slaves had worked here tirelessly to supply the food, water, and other commodities needed to entertain the festivities above. They worked their way through the labyrinth, following the tourist map, and finally arrived at a passageway which was marked for the Mythraim. They could go no farther. The passageway was blocked with a wrought iron gate. A sign in Italian read Do Not Enter, For Official Personnel Only!

  The light from the setting sun was growing faint as the day was winding down. Rafe tried to see past the gate but it was no use, since it was not lit. He looked at the lock and made a plan on the spot. “We’re coming back tonight,” he told Cecilia then turned to leave.

  “Whatever you say. How are you going to get in?”

  “Leave that to me,” Rafe said commandingly.

  They arrived by taxi to their new hotel a few kilometers north of the Coliseum. Rafe immediately left to find a store to buy supplies. He returned an hour later with a crowbar and a small, battery-operated drill and an attachment—a metal saw bit. He also had two small penlights with green light filters installed. He was ready. He began placing the items in his pockets. “Now we wait,” he told Cecilia. He turned on the TV to an American news channel and went into the small kitchenette to make some coffee. It was going to be a long night. He could hear the anchorwoman spreading the dreary news of the day from North America. He walked back into the bedroom where Cecilia was napping on the bed. Rafe could make out her shapely body under the sheet. No! he thought to himself. Not until I find Clare. His sexual appetite was gone.

  The anchorwoman droned on. Americans on food stamps hit sixty million this month; government disability payments are also rising to record rates.

  Unbelievable, thought Rafe as he carefully poured his espresso.

  Hours later, Rafe and Cecilia exited the metro several blocks from the Coliseum. The sun had set hours ago and the moon was high in the sky, providing an amount of natural light bright enough to allow them to proceed on foot to the fenced-in area of the Foro Romano. Upon arrival, Rafe scanned the area for the darkest portion of the metal barrier. He had perused the entire area before they had previously left and searched out the location of the security guards watching the complex. There was a new shift in place, but they stood in approximately the same place.

  They made their way to the space between the floodlights on the eastern side of the restricted grounds. Here they could operate without fear of discovery. Rafe quietly moved a trash receptacle towards the fence and motioned for Cecilia to stand on the can. He pushed her from below over the wrought iron section of the barrier. She landed on her feet with a thud. He quickly followed. They had entered undetected.

  Quickly the two intruders melted into the foliage-covered portion of the hill and oriented themselves to the land. Rafe was basically operating on memory as he guided her to the Circus Maximus. Upon reaching the site, they detoured around to the eastern wall where the catacombs were located. Rafe switched on the small, green penlight to read the guideposts and confirmed their location. After retracing their steps from earlier in the day, they soon arrived at the entrance to the channel to the Mythraim. They were completely alone. Everything was quiet.

  Rafe pulled out the small drill, mounted the saw bit, and proceeded to attack the flange holding the lock on the gate. He reasoned the lock would be made of steel and impossible to cut. That was not the case with the old iron gate. Cecilia held the filtered penlight to provide illumination as Rafe worked. After almost twenty minutes of using the small circular saw, the metal gave way. The door swung open. They stealthily stepped into the darkened corridor.

  The passageway led downward into the earth, and Rafe could feel the temperature drop as they descended slowly, guided by the light of the penlight. The green light produced an eerie glow, which bounced off the stone walls, bathing them both in an unnatural color. Eventually they reached the end of the tunnel. There, waiting on them, was a copper door, long turned green by the air, which served for the opening to the Mythraim. It had been recently disturbed and was slightly ajar. Rafe looked at Cecilia and then slowly pulled open the door, not knowing what to expect. He shined the penlight forward.

  The temple was very similar to the one he had seen in Barcelona. It was bigger and more ornate but basically the same. It was an elongat
ed, rectangular space with a long, single, stone bench and table running the length of both sides and facing the long wall. There was an altar at the far end with a stone etching of a soldier riding and slaying a bull above the stone. There were no pictures of his daughter or anything else he recognized; however, there was something on each table. There were baskets and stone pottery along each wall, as if there had recently been a feast. Rafe walked over to the baskets and peered inside. There was food, bread, fruit, and water in the pottery. Rafe touched the bread in one of the baskets. It was fresh and warm. Plates of half-eaten portions dotted the waste high slab.

  Rafe and Cecilia searched the Mythraim for any other evidence but found nothing. Rafe was frustrated, time was slipping away. Who knows where his Clare could be by now. “I know I was supposed to be here! Someone just had a feast here! I don’t get it!”

  “Well there’s nothing here that indicates anything about Clare.”

  “Let’s go search around, maybe we will find something, or someone.” They headed back down the darkened corridor and left the passageway into the moonlit night. Rafe doused the penlight, threw the saw and crowbar down the embankment far away from them, and followed the signs to the Circus Maximus.

  As they silently crept closer, Cecilia grabbed Rafe’s shoulder, stopping him, and whispered, “Listen!” From far above they could hear a mumbling noise. “It sounds like a chant of some kind,” she said.

  “Yes I hear it too. Lets’ go!” Slowly they made their way up the twisting and turning paths to the top of the hillside. The chant became louder and louder. Finally they broke onto the surface and carefully snuck up to the opening to the arena. The sound was loud now. They were exposed against the moonlight.

  “Holy shit!” whispered Cecilia. Torches were placed in a circular pattern around a platform in the middle of the arena down below. Surrounding the torches were at least one hundred people dressed in white, hooded robes. They were mumbling some kind of chant. On the platform was a hooded figure in a black robe. He had a stone altar in front of him and held a long knife, which glinted in the dancing light of the torches. Rafe could not make out the person’s face. There was a live animal on the altar with all four legs bound together. It looked like a baby goat and was baying loudly with fear, trying to move unsuccessfully. The chanting became louder as the tension mounted. The dark, hooded figure held the knife with both hands and raised the blade high in the air above the animal, pointing downward. The chanting increased with a crescendo of expectation. The white-robed figures in the audience waved fists in the air and chanted even louder, demanding consummation of the sacrifice. The dark hooded figure plunged the knife into the animal, which screamed and then became silent. Blood spurted upward and splashed the executioner’s dark robe with red splotches. The crowd erupted with delight and raised their fists in the air with satisfaction. Rafe felt sick to his stomach. He thought of Clare. No! he said to himself.

  “I’m going down there,” he declared.

  “Are you kidding? You’ll get killed yourself!” replied Cecilia.

  “I don’t care. My daughter is here somewhere. I’m not going to let this happen to her. You stay here and get help if something happens to me. Don’t move unless you have to. If something bad goes down and we get split up, I’ll meet you at the hotel if I can. If I’m not there in twenty-four hours, go home and forget about me.”

  “I’m not forgetting about you and I’ll be here when you return.” Cecilia slinked away into the shadows.

  Rafe glanced around the arena below the ledge. He saw small spaces carved into the sides, which were used to store food or other commodities two thousand years ago. He then noticed a man in business clothes arrive in the arena from the northwestern end and enter one of the spaces carved into the earth. He emerged a moment later clothed in a white robe. “I’m going there first!” Rafe declared as he pointed in the direction of the cave.

  “Good luck!” whispered Cecilia from her place of concealment.

  Rafe crept down the stone staircase at the far end of the arena and blended into the shadows created by the bright full moon above. He stayed in the darkened recesses of the space along the far wall and slowly made his way to where he saw the man exit in the robe. Finally arriving, he peeked into the cave-like area. The ceremony in the middle of the Circus Maximus was going on as fierce as ever, as another animal had been brought out for the slaughter and the chanting again became louder. The animal screamed in fear. It's eyes wide with terror.

  Inside the cavern were multiple white robes hanging from a rod attached at both ends of the ceiling. Rafe was alone and walked in as if he belonged and slipped into one of the robes. He emerged from the cavern looking exactly like the other participants in this dark charade. Rafe desperately wanted to get a look at who was in the black robe on the platform. He had to get something out of this crazy trip to this cradle of history. He had to find his daughter no matter the risk to himself. Soon he was blended into the crowd as the chanting became louder and louder. The dark-robed figure again raised the blade high in the air over the bound, screaming animal. The knife was plunged into the heart of the beast who screamed louder in pain. After the animal quit moving, the shadowy figure became perfectly still and eventually reached her hands up to the hood covering her head. She slowly pulled the hood down, revealing her face. Rafe was mesmerized, as she was very beautiful. He felt as if he recognized her in some way. At that moment, the crowd became deathly quiet. She stared directly at Rafe. She pointed at him and beckoned her hands toward herself, as if she wanted him to come onto the altar. The entire white-robed crowd turned to look at him. “Come to me, join us!” she said softly to Rafe as he stood there exposed and filled with anxiety. The Circus Maximus became very quiet and still.

  Rafe froze, then spoke, “Who are you and where is my daughter?” he demanded.

  Before she could answer, someone in the crowd pointed to the ledge where Cecilia was highlighted in the moonlight as she strained to hear what was happening in the Circus Maximus below. She was discovered.

  The woman on the altar looked upwards and saw her. “Seize her!” she ordered.

  “Run!” Rafe called out to Cecilia as he pulled off the robe and sprinted from the gathering towards the stone stairs leading up to the edge of the arena.

  Cecilia darted from the precipice towards the trails to the catacombs below.

  Rafe had somewhat of a head start towards the staircase and managed to reach to platform leading away from the arena before the robed figures following could stop his progress. One hand grabbed his ankle as he reached the top and he fell. Kicking violently, he was able to free himself from his assailant and knocked the robed figure down into the other sacrifice participants who were climbing the stairs as well. They were entangled in each other robes and the brief respite gave Rafe time to lose himself in the trails below to the labyrinth of tunnels.

  Since he and Cecilia had just been in the area, he remembered the way off Palatine Hill. Upon seeing him approach, Cecilia left her hiding place and joined him as he sprinted down towards the gate. Suddenly he stopped and turned towards her. “They will be waiting for us there. We need to lose ourselves for a while somewhere else. Follow me!”

  Rafe made a left turn as they neared the gate area and quickly they found themselves in the middle of the ancient Forum itself. They kept running past the Temple of Vesta toward the Temple of Saturn. As they neared the old riverbed where Rome began, Rafe turned quickly to the left and ducked into a stone altar of some sort and hid behind a waist high bench that looked like a kitchen island surrounded by a stone wall. There were piles of cut flowers that reached to his shoulders thrown all around the area. Rafe motioned to Cecilia and they ducked under the stone pedestal and pulled the flowers around them for concealment.

  Once their hearts had stopped pounding, Rafe listened in the stillness for any followers. He could hear none. “We need to stay here a while. I’m sure they are searching for us,” he stated. The moon shone a
bove like a searchlight, illuminating their location.

  “I’m sorry Rafe, tell me about your daughter,” Cecilia whispered.

  “Later maybe, not now. I still don’t even know you. We’ll wait here a couple hours and then leave from the other direction towards the opposite gate.”

  “You can trust me, really. Do you know why all of these flowers are here?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes. This is a shrine. This stone table above us is where they burned Julius Caesar's body after he was assassinated.”

  Chapter Five

  Rafe and Cecilia arrived back at the hotel late the next morning after silently sneaking out of the historic, controlled area before dawn. Rome was still awake but the police were more concerned with rowdy late night partiers that guarding the Roman Forum. Unable to hail a taxi at that hour, they walked the two kilometers back to the lodging sector, dodging the occasional gang of revelers staggering from the bars. Finally they were able to relax after a tense time in the Foro Romano. Rafe locked the hotel room door, and they climbed into bed to get some rest. Neither one of them had slept much the previous evening, being worried about their assailants finding them and about what was happening to Clare. Sleep came easy for both. However, Rafe woke up several hours later, his dreams having been filled with sacrifices and the face of his daughter. He couldn’t bear to go there. That was not going to happen to Clare. He sat up in bed and glanced nervously out the window into the street. Everything looked normal, though he knew that was not the case. At least there are no people in hooded robes out in the street waiting for me. Cecilia was fast asleep. Let her sleep, he thought. I honestly don’t know what to do, he admitted to himself. I’m at a complete loss and don’t know where to turn. I need to speak to someone I can trust, but who? Rafe pondered who he would call, all the while knowing who that person would be.