The Edge of Temptation: Gods of the Undead 2 A Post-Apocalyptic Epic

by Peter Meredith

  “Slow down, Jack,” Metzger said. “I’m calling in the help we were promised. We don’t know what’s in there.”

  Jack paused, with a stone hefted near his shoulder. He didn’t want to stop and it wasn’t the power of spells driving him or some evil force. The simple fact was that he wanted to explore! He wanted to discover. He wanted to creep down the tunnel with a torch in one hand and a treasure map in the other, just like he had always dreamed.

  “Let’s let them do their jobs,” Cyn said, her smirk playing on her lips. She knew his heart...in this case, his childish heart. He tossed away the stone and went to stand with this team as the “others” that had been promised were called in.

  In minutes, four black helicopters swooped down out of the dark. They were amazingly quiet and by their odd, angular appearance, Jack guessed that they were stealth helicopters. Thirty men leapt out of them and hurried to the tunnel. They were Knights, the military’s answer to the demon problem. Their arms and armor were black, all save for their silver crosses and shining swords.

  There were four priests with them and they too were armed.

  Cyn did a count of the full group. “Fifty men. Let’s hope that will be enough.” She meant it as a joke, but she was nervous as the rocks were pulled away and a hole ten feet wide and ten feet tall was revealed.

  With the guns of fifty men and the one woman trained on the opening, Jack inspected the tunnel. It had literally been “hand-carved.” Gouges in the walls and scrapes by the thousands showed where fingers were used instead of shovels. The hole sloped downward, disappearing into the earth.

  A squad of Knights went first; nine men and a priest. Then Jack’s team and then a second team of Raiders. They went slow, their flashlights illuminating everything. They checked the ground and the walls, inch by inch, looking for booby traps, trip wires, buried mines. They went slow, and they went without fear.

  The priests were working as a team: one setting the power of the Lord against the possibility of fear, another against magical darkness, another against the cold. Timmons and Jordan walked behind Jack, ready with crosses and Holy Oil. Outside the tunnel, the other teams prepared themselves for a fight, with one team set facing the way they had come just in case the creatures from the graveyard should pop up out of the dirt and come after them.

  The tunnel ran straight for ninety yards and then began to angle up until it came out in the burial chamber of Beg 22 and what they found there was something out of Indiana Jones. The room, a square maybe twenty-five feet on the side, had a peaked roof, the walls leaning into each other, coming to a point twenty feet above their heads. Directly beneath that peak, sitting on the dusty floor was a golden sarcophagus that was nearly ten feet long.

  “No one move,” Jack said, as two of the Knights began edging toward it. Jack worked his way slowly around the coffin, his blessed sword at the ready. There was nothing else in the room and when he had made a full circuit, he asked: “Is everyone as confused as I am?”

  Heads nodded all around. “I don’t have my doctorate,” Cyn said, with her smirk playing on her lips, “but I’m pretty sure that isn’t Natakamani, the guy who was once buried here. As well, a golden sarcophagus isn’t on any cataloged list of items to be found in this tomb or any other in Meroe.”

  “Sarcophagus?” Metzger asked. “Is that a coffin? Why’s it so big? What sort of creature is in there?”

  “Just a man,” Jack explained. “There will be another sarcophagus inside this one and likely another inside that.”

  Metzger was relieved. “So what do we do?” he asked. “Do we open it?”

  Jack went around it a second time, paying close attention to the floor. There were no scrape marks. It had been carried in and placed perfectly in the center of the room. “I want to say, no. Especially not in this room. There’s no telling what sort of cunning plan Robert has for this. Why don’t you, uh, step back, I’m going to touch it.”

  Everyone set themselves for battle as Jack slowly reached out and touched the gold. He half-expected to be shocked and half-expected the lid to blast off exposing some sort of undead creature. His mind hadn’t picked up a thing coming from the box and now his hand did not either.

  He gave a contemplative: “Hmmm,” before running both hands over the lid. He even gave it a rap with his knuckles. It was solid metal, perhaps even solid gold. It was an impressive piece and most certainly didn’t belong in that pyramid. “It makes no sense,” he said in a whisper that everyone heard. Louder, he added: “I say we move it out to the surface and open it there.”

  “What? Why open it at all?” Cyn asked. She was nervous about the sarcophagus and it showed in the fact that her sweet smirk was miles away. “Why don’t we take it back to the States? We could open it in a controlled environment, like at agency headquarters.”

  “You want to open it in the middle of DC?” Jack asked. “Let’s say it is a trap and there is something bad in there and it gets out. There’s close to three million people within ten miles of the capitol. No, it’s better out here in the middle of nowhere. Fewer people will get hurt.” Jack looked back at the dark tunnel as if measuring it.

  “Can’t we just take it through the door?” Metzger asked. “It’ll be quicker and I don’t like the idea of being in a dark tunnel with this thing.” Again everyone nodded, and when Jack did as well, charges were brought up by three of the Knights, and in no time, the granite slab was exploded into manageable pieces.

  Everyone watched from cover, though it wasn’t the explosion that Jack kept his eye on; it was the sarcophagus. And when ropes were brought from the helicopters and the coffin was dragged out into the night, again he watched at the ready.

  There was nothing to be seen.

  And yet he was still wary.

  He simply knew that there had to be something dangerous about the coffin or maybe something magical about it. Robert had gone to a lot of trouble bringing it to Meroe. It certainly wasn’t a Numidian or a Kushite piece.

  Cyn saw him puzzling it over. She was snapping pictures of it from every conceivable angle. “I think it might be First Dynasty or even older. Look at the eyes; look how big they are. That sort of strange proportionality was only common in the earliest finds.”

  “You’re right,” Jack agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “Which means it’s been brought all the way from Egypt and stuck in the ground. Why? I always get back to why?” He brooded over the sarcophagus while the others watched in silence. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. “So, do you want to do the honors with me?”

  She stepped back, hurriedly. “Open it? No, I think it should be the soldiers. A bomb is still an option.”

  It was a far-fetched option in Jack’s opinion. Robert had always held finds such as these with more reverence. Poison gas? That was a possibility. The Knights had come prepared. Six of them in protective masks came forward, one at each of the corners and one at the head and another at the feet. With everyone ready for the unexpected and set strategically back with their weapons at the ready, Jack said: “Go.”

  The six men grunted and then lifted the lid up and off the casket. It was heavy, but that wasn’t the reason why it came crashing down after they only took two steps. Two of the men at the closer corners could see perfectly what was inside the coffin.

  They dropped their side of the lid and started scrambling for their weapons and for the next few seconds everything happened in slow motion—it wasn’t as if time seemed to be moving slowly, it really was moving in slow motion.

  Jack’s hands, always so quick, were sluggish and his feet moved as if under water; even his eyes took forever to haul themselves away from the soldiers to focus on what was in the coffin.

  Everyone was slowed except the creature that had been inside of it. There shouldn’t have been a “creature” in the sarcophagus at all. That wasn’t how these things ever worked and yet a tremendous monster leapt out, its evil suddenly sweeping from it in a terrifying wave.

  Moving with blinding
speed, it rushed full on Jack. It made sense; he was the main threat. He was a power house, even compared to the priests. He had grown strong, but he was nothing compared to the creature. It was huge; physically at least eight feet in height. Its features were human, though exaggerated: eyes four inches wide, a sharp, thin nose, ears, long and pointed, but flat to the skull. It was old and dead with wizened flesh the color of walnut.

  Magically, the creature had power that could not be believed.

  Like lightning it flashed at Jack, punching with a fist the size of catcher’s mitt. He was looking to cave-in Jack’s chest and would have if he hadn’t been wearing his Kevlar armor. As it was, Jack flew through the air from the force of the blow, his chest on fire, his breath locked in his throat.

  He struck the side of the pyramid and began to slide down. As he did, the night started to light up with little blinks. The men were shooting. The guns lit, but as sound traveled far slower than light, they were silent. With time slowed to a crawl, the blasts didn’t reach Jack’s ears for a few seconds, and in that time the creature killed half the priests and five of the soldiers.

  It had learned its lesson concerning Kevlar and now it went for the throat or the eyes.

  Nine men dead in what? A half a second of real time? It was impossible to tell, and impossible to fight against. They would have been doomed, but time suddenly snapped back into place. It was jarring to say the least. Priests and soldiers were suddenly flying through the air and gunshots seemed to explode from every direction.

  Jack fell in a crumpled heap at the base of the pyramid. The Knights and the Raiders oriented on the creature that had, a second before been only a blur moving as fast as their bullets. Now it was stationary and they tried to pin it to the earth in a hail of gunfire.

  Guns blasted from every direction, but nothing seemed to happen. The air shimmered around the creature as the bullets seemed to snag on nothing and drop, steaming to the cold desert floor. Holy water was thrown by Father Timmons. It struck the same invisible force, this time with a shock of white light.

  It thinned the barrier and maybe another bottle or two might have brought it down, only the creature wasn’t going to wait around for that to happen. It raised both of its huge hands, giving Jack a perfect view of the right one; on it glowed a glyph etched in blue light. Jack knew the glyph and knew what was going to happen.

  Unfortunately, he was still struggling to breathe and could do nothing but try to get to his hands and knees. The creature was too fast for anyone to do anything. It brought its hands together in a great burst of sound and light, like a thunderbolt exploding. Those who were close to the beast were either blinded, stunned or outright killed.

  Thirty feet away, Cyn was thrown off her feet and was lying on her back, one hand patting the dirt, her head going this way and that as if she was confused where she was.

  Jack began crawling to her. He was finally able to breathe, but standing was out of the question at the moment. He crawled, furious with himself. This was his fault. He had been too eager to see what was in the coffin. He should have left it for someone else to have opened it. But who? And where?

  No answer came to him as he watched the creature pause for a moment. Jack saw that it was tiring. He could feel it weaken and it was no wonder. It had warped time, erected a shield to absorb the energy from twenty guns, and expended enough energy in a single blast to stun or kill forty people.

  Now would have been the time for Jack to strike back with some energy of his own, but he was still too shaken and he had to wonder what sort of power could stop the creature...wait, not creature...this was some sort of man. Jack saw the terrible humanity in it as it bent and went lip to lip with Father Timmons. The priest flung out his hands as the light in his eyes dimmed to nothing. His soul had been sucked from in seconds.

  Now Jack knew what he was facing: this was a necromancer, one that was thousands of years old. It was impossible.

  Jack crawled faster to Cyn. The creature dropped Timmons and strode toward her. It saw in her a rival that had to be destroyed before it got too strong. On the way, it stopped to replenish its strength, feeding on those stunned individuals that were still alive between it and her.

  Some of the soldiers gathered their wits and fired their guns, while Metzger threw Holy Water, but the spell warding the necromancer was stronger now and the bullets fell harmlessly and the water splashed onto the ground wasted.

  And then it was almost on top of Cyn, who was firing her shotgun and slowly backing away. Jack got to her first, knife in hand, blood already dripping from his palm. He cast his Holding spell at the necromancer, which made it laugh.

  Jack’s strength was nothing compared to it. The necromancer shot out white blobs of ball lightning with one hand, blasting the remaining soldiers, some of whom were bravely charging while others were scrambling to get to their feet. At the same time, the creature reached out and began burning through Jack’s spell.

  It was a battle of magical strength and will, and though Jack was full of fight, his strength ran out of him as though he had sprung a hundred holes. Thirty seconds was all he could give before he was wiped out and his soul bled dry. But then Cyn was there at his side, her own hand bleeding. She had never cast a spell before and it would have been a waste to start right then.

  She knew this as well as he did and so she did something even better. She clasped his hand, their blood mingling, her body open and her soul a live wire. It burned into Jack as though she were on fire inside.

  Her gift to him, freely given and not stolen was power Jack had never felt before. It roared in him like a dragon, like a volcano...but still it wasn’t enough. The necromancer was ancient and vastly more powerful. With everyone stunned, unconscious or dead, the necromancer focused completely on Jack.

  With energy blasting into him from two direction, Jack thought that he would split in two or go up in flames himself.

  Then, in seconds, Cyn fell away, utterly drained, her eyes staring up at the night blinking slowly, her brain trying to force herself back into the fight. Seconds later, Jack was on the ground next to her, his insides empty save the tiniest wisp; once again, he had gone to the very edge.

  For a few moments, the ancient necromancer stood over them, gloating, his ancient teeth showing in a grin—his teeth were black and glistened in the light, but the tongue that ran over them was shockingly pink.

  Jack turned away. There was absolutely nothing between them and death. What was left of his team consisted only of Captain Metzger and he was lying on the ground looking as though he was trying to find out which way up was. Jordan was dead; his face charred into ruin and there was smoke rising out of the remains of Father Timmons.

  The Knights were mostly dead. Their bodies littered the grounds around the pyramid. There were three still firing sporadically, and someone was saying something in a soft voice about not being able to see.

  The last of the Raiders were running for their lives and Jack did not blame them. If he could have run, he probably would have, but he had Cyn and he wouldn’t let her die alone.

  And they would die. They were utterly powerless now…they didn’t even have souls left to drain. That thought struck Jack as important, just as he heard the cavalry arrive in the form of the US Army.

  Chapter 11

  Meroe, Sudan

  Jack Dreyden

  In case things went to hell, the American helicopters had been parked a half mile away, their rotors whipping the air, ready to go at the first sign of trouble. Trouble came so quickly that they almost missed it. The battle in front of Beg 22 was short and savage.

  Eager to get into the action, the choppers spun up into the air, unmasking their 30mm M230 Chain Guns. The battlefield was lit by blue-white explosions and muzzle blasts going in every direction, but the eight-foot monster smack dab in the middle of the carnage wasn’t easy to miss. The first pilot centered his cross hairs on it and caressed the trigger, giving it just a gentle squeeze, sending sixty hand-siz
ed rounds right on target. He was good and did not miss. The rounds could tear an infantry carrier to pieces and yet, after the air blurred and dust rose, the monster was still standing.

  The pilot hit it again and there was so much flame and flying lead that he didn’t see the beast raise a glowing hand. Just like that, the pilot’s field of vision was suddenly warped; it looked as though the ground was rushing up at him. Thousands of stones of every size raced up as if fired from a gun and pelted his bird. Some of the stones could fit in the palm of his hand, others were bigger than his head. The rotors, circling at 800 RPM, were brittle; a sparrow could chip them at that speed.

  The rocks turned them to dust and the chopper abruptly turned over in the air and dropped straight into the earth. It exploded in a fireball when it crashed, as did the other three as more rocks flew through the air so fast that they were nothing but a blur.

  Jack watched with a cold heart, a dead heart. His chest was empty of feeling. Even Cyn barely gave him a stir. It was the consequence of being soulless. In this situation it had its benefits. He was able to see past the blood and the moans and the soldier wondering aloud what had happened to his eyes.

  He was able to see past his friendship with Metzger, who really was a good guy and who always did his best. Jack’s eyes weren’t dimmed by any of this. He was able to see the truth of their situation.

  The necromancer wasn’t an all-powerful creature. He wasn’t a demon whose energy, whether strong or weak, was a constant thing. The necromancer was alive, likely some form of a human—a strange, magic-warped being, but a human, nonetheless. His strength ebbed and flowed, and just then it was ebbing big time.

  Jack and Cyn had weakened it and the helicopter with its 30mm Chain Gun had done a number on it. Now, after hurling half the desert into the air, it was nearly spent.

  And yet it could recharge just by lifting out its hand.

  Jack couldn’t let that happen.

  The necromancer reached out to Metzger. The soldier’s face twisted and started to pull in on itself. His soul was being ripped from the core of his being, but Jack saved him. Snatching up Cyn’s forgotten shotgun, Jack calmly aimed and blasted Captain Metzger in the head, sending brains, red and grey sheeting onto the desert floor.