Judas (The Iscariot Warrior Series Book 1)

by Roy Bright

  Jerusalem, Tuesday 31 March AD 33

  Judas reached across the table for another piece of bread. He was in the home of one of his uncles enjoying a meal and for the last hour forced to suffer the insane ramblings of Annas, a retired High Priest of Sanhedrin. Throughout the meal, he had been complaining that Jesus wasn’t the Son of God nor was he the Savior that people were proclaiming him to be; he was just a very dangerous individual, who enjoyed inciting cult-like behavior within his followers and Annas believed that he would bring upon them the eventual wrath of the entire Roman Empire.

  Judas was tired of listening to him whine on about things of which he knew little. He believed beyond doubt, in his own heart that Jesus was the Son of God and that his works would lead him and the people out of the tyrannical rule of the Romans whom he despised.

  Judas was Maccabean; born and raised in a military regime in which his father and grandfather had been warriors fighting against the Roman Empire. He hadn’t followed their example into the military, instead opting to find his own path, his own way; something that had troubled his father a great deal, especially since his skill in combat with a blade was unparalleled. The elder man felt that, to not use that skill was a complete waste of his talent, although it was the pressure from his father that had caused Judas to adopt the exact opposite of his wishes, as many sons rebel against their fathers so. To that end, he had stayed at home, caring for his father’s land and his sister and mother whilst the elder of the family fought in many battles. Judas was not without action himself however and at times had aided a band of Zealots, headed up by a violent revolutionary named Barabbas, by undertaking assassination missions to depose small pockets of Roman rule, something in which he had showed much talent for. However, having grown very wary of Barrabbas’ motives and methods and fearing he posed a greater threat to his own people with his sadistic and twisted nature than that of the Romans, he had, over time, ceased to play a part in his movement altogether.

  Listening to the talk at the dinner table had reminded him once again of men with ulterior motives and it made him sick to his stomach.

  Annas was whining again. “Can’t people seem to get it through their heads that this man is dangerous? I just cannot say this enough. We need to deal with him and safeguard our own future or the Romans will bring hell upon us all.”

  Judas tore his bread into smaller pieces and, stuffing them into his mouth, addressed the man’s issues. “So, Annas, what you are saying is that, to protect ourselves from the Romans, we must kill a man who it seems is trying to unite us all together as a race, teaching us to be more peaceful and caring to one another. Is that right?”

  He looked at Judas with scorn, “Judas, please do not address me in such a sarcastic manner and whilst you are stuffing your mouth with food. We must support the Romans so that we ensure our people’s survival; so if that is what you are asking, then yes, I believe taking care of him is the right thing to do.”

  He threw down the last couple of pieces of bread he had in his hands and looked at the former High Priest with disdain. “My father and grandfather both fought against the Roman Empire. Many Maccabean men gave their lives to stop the rot that comes with this rampaging horde, and you want to align our people with them?”

  Annas sat back, casting his eyes downwards as the man continued.

  “Now, this Jesus may or may not be the Son of God but if our only reason to remove him from his seat of power, as you put it, is to align with the Romans, then this cannot be a good thing. Besides, our laws prevent you Sanhedrins from imposing a death sentence upon a man, so killing him following trial is beyond your ability.”

  Annas sat forward once again with eagerness. “Yes, that is why we must turn him over to the Romans so that they can try him and, execute him. That way a death sentence can be imposed and in effect, we wash our hands of any blame.”

  He shook his head, “This is insane, Annas. Are you people that afraid of one man?”

  Angered by his remark, Annas blurted, “Insane? Judas, I will tell you what is insane. A man claiming to be the Son of God, which in turn would have himself claim equal to that of God. A man who would break the Sabbath, who would claim men may speak with God without the need for priests. You think I am insane, Judas and he is not?” He claps his hands together, “Wake up, and see things clearly with your own eyes. We must hand this man to the Romans so our people do not think they can rise up with the blessing of an equal of God. This man cannot protect them; he would only lead them to certain death.”

  Judas’ attention heightened as something in those words sparked an idea. Even though he knew that Annas’ ramblings were those of a scared and desperate man, fearing that Jesus would render him and his fellow priests obsolete, somewhere in those words resided an idea so powerful that it could ensure a revolution could occur, in the most glorious of ways.

  Annas brought his thoughts back into the room. “Judas! Judas, are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, Annas, I am listening, please continue.”

  “Well, as I was saying, steps are in place to ensure our future. There is to be a meeting tonight to determine the fate of this so-called Son of God. We have the blessing of everyone at this table. What say you, Judas? As one of his followers, can we ensure you to remain loyal to your family?”

  He looked around the table at the faces of his relatives. It was clear that they had all succumbed to Annas’ ravings but he knew that they would; people always tended to listen to priests, no matter how idiotic their teachings could sometimes be. The idea that had just come to him, began to take greater shape, creating its own world, its own usefulness and its own conclusions. He thought this could work. He mused that if he helped Annas and the Sanhedrin hand Jesus over to the Romans and then in turn, aid his escape; all of the people would see him as a great revolutionary leader and follow him to rise up against and overthrow the Romans. For this idea to succeed however, he knew that he must execute it with expert precision, timing and planning. He would not have much time to draw up his plan, but he was convinced that he could achieve this. This would be the greatest coup in his people’s history, and they could start to see the back of the Roman Empire once and for all. He was sure that his father would have approved of this plan had he been here today.

  Annas looked around the table concerned, and then asked him once more, “Judas, can we expect your support and aid in this matter?”

  He took a deep breath before turning to Annas, “You can. I will offer my full support.”

  Annas smiled, “Excellent, excellent, then we will finish our meal and attend the meeting together to decide how this will take place.”

  Judas looked around the table at his relatives once again. Only his uncle stared back at him; questioning, and he wondered if indeed everyone was, as Annas said, with the Sanhedrin on this matter. He decided to probe this with his uncle before departing for the meeting.

  Judas, his family and Annas enjoyed the rest of the meal without discussing the fate of Jesus any further. Judas used the time to mull over his own plan to help Jesus become the savior he was destined to be, and wrestled with the obstacles with which his mind presented him. If any one part of the plan were to go wrong, he would in effect be killing his friend himself. There was no room for error, no margin for mistake.

  As the meal ended and the guests began to say their goodbyes, his uncle pulled him to one side.

  “Judas, I am a little concerned over your seemingly very quick turnaround to Annas’ plan. You appeared to be very opposed to his wishes and yet, within a matter of mere moments, you had changed your opinion on the matter. I hope you don’t feel pressured by this priest into doing something you know is wrong?”

  He looked at his uncle with great interest and, after swift deliberation, decided to confide in his elder, getting the feeling that he did not share the view of Annas either.

  “You have always been very astute, uncle and once again, your suspicions are correct. I do not feel that Annas
holds the best interests of our people at heart, but rather the best interests of himself and the rest of the priests.”

  His uncle placed an arm around his shoulder and led him a little further away from the rest of the party.

  “I guess you may be right, but if that is the case, why do you plan to aid him in his task?”

  “I will aid him for one portion of the plan only, uncle. Yes, I will do all I can to help them arrest Jesus and then, during his captivity, I will aid him in his escape. This will prove his strength to our people as a revolutionary and a great leader. A man who cannot be contained by the greatest military force in the world will inspire them to rise against this oppressive Roman rule.”

  His uncle stared at him for many moments, mulling over his plan. He then nodded in agreement and placed both hands on his nephew’s shoulders.

  “Judas, you must be very careful not to tell anyone else what you plan. You must only trust me with the details, do you understand?”

  “Yes, uncle, of course, I would not tell anyone but you; I would trust no one else with this.”

  “Good boy. You must go with Annas now and find out what they intend to do to bring in Jesus. Accomplish any task given to you, and then you and I will plan the rescue and freedom of your friend and set the revolution in motion together.”

  He smiled at his uncle. Finally, he thought to himself, an ally who understands the purpose of the savior.

  “Thank you, uncle, thank you very much. I will do as you ask.”

  “Good, well, be on your way and be mindful of what I have just said.”

  His uncle smiled.

  Judas nodded and then walked away.

  Annas signaled to him. “Judas, are you ready? We must be going now if we are to attend the meeting in good time.”

  He looked back to his uncle, who in turn nodded. “I am ready, Annas, I am coming now.”

  The pair offered their thanks to the host, then took their leave into the cool, Jerusalem night.

  Thirty-Six

  There’s that sound again, it’s faint and distant but it’s familiar. What is that sound?

  He feels as though he is coming round from a dream that is trying its best to keep him under, keep him in a different world, a world of nothing. He can hear something familiar calling to him but he just can’t work out what it is.

  There it is again.

  He tries to make sense of where he is and what he is doing as memories creep into his mind. He feels as though he should remember something very important, but what?

  That sound, what is that sound?

  The familiar sound has been joined by others now, fuzzy, white static, their volumes growing.

  That sound, it’s a voice, it’s my name, someone is calling my name! “Judas, Judas, can you hear me?”

  The muffled sound feels as though it is a great distance away, but he can just about make out the words.

  Yes, someone is definitely calling my name.

  He has experienced this sensation before.

  A memory forces itself into his psyche as he tries to regain himself. He is remembering.

  He remembers during a battle in a great and terrible war. There was an almighty explosion inside a trench that he and his company had dug into. He was right in the heart of the blast and should have been dead if not for the curse.

  Yes, the curse, I remember; the punishment.

  He remembers how it had demolished his sense of sight, hearing and balance and, as his body repaired itself, those sensations began to flood back, as though they were nearing him as his mind welcomed him back to reality.

  Is this where I am? Have I not left the trench? Has that not already happened? No, wait, there’s that sound again, my name, who is calling my name?

  “Judas! Judas, wake up! Wake up!”

  He recognizes the sound of a child crying, a girl; and as the sound of her calling his name crescendos, so does the background noise along with it. He feels a pounding on his chest. Her voice is closer now.

  “Judas! Please, wake up, please!”

  There is more pounding on his chest and her voice is almost in front of his face. Even more pounding.

  He remembers.

  All at once, every memory of his life crashes into his mind as though racing towards him at a million miles an hour and he sits bolt upright, breathing heavy. He stares into the sobbing face of Charlotte as she sits on the sidewalk.

  Her face lights up and she throws her arms around him. “You did it! You did it, you saved me! I knew you wouldn’t let me die, you held me and you saved me, Judas, you saved me.”

  He puts his arms around her and pulls her tight into his chest. He is still a little dazed and out of breath from coming round in such a shocked manner. “You bet, sweetie, you bet. I told you nothing would happen to you with me to protect you.” He looks around and realizes that he is sat inside a wide crater, such was the force of their impact. He coughs as the dust still settles all around them. A worrying thought enters his head and he reaches up to the harness on his back in panic. He sighs with relief as he discovers both swords remain intact. The power of Christ indeed, he thinks to himself.

  Charlotte moves back out of his embrace. Sniffing, she wipes her eyes and nose with her right hand, then looks at it and removes the offending material onto her dress. She chuckles, a little embarrassed.

  He smiles. “Where are the others?”

  She shakes her head, “I don’t know. I was too busy screaming with my eyes closed to notice anything from the last ten minutes.”

  “Well, at least your sense of humor is intact, kiddo.”

  They both laugh.

  A scream pierces through the dust further down the street and he groans then moves onto one knee, his right hand thumbing the hilt of a sword. “Okay, kiddo, let’s get out of here. We need to see if the others are still alive, but we cannot spend too much time on that, you understand?”

  She nods.

  He smiles, “Good girl. Then we need to get a vehicle and pray to the heavens that the tunnel is clear.” He looks at her and cups her face with his right hand. “It might just be you and me now, sweetie, okay?

  She looks at him, sorrow within her eyes and nods her head once again, but then begins to shake it. “No, Judas, it isn’t just you and I. Look!” She points down the street as the forms of Gary and Abi run towards them; then she smiles and waves.

  He notices that neither Captain Banks nor Detective Stillman is following them and he lowers his head, sighing. “Okay, sweetie, let’s go meet the rest of the crew.” Standing, he stretches and looks up from where they had just fallen. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked,” he mutters, as he walks towards the sprinting pair heading down the street, eager to join them.

  Gary is the first to reach them and stops just in front of Judas, staring at him in disbelief, shaking his head. He laughs a little as he speaks, “You have got to be kidding me?”

  He smiles at the detective, then turns back once more to survey the path of their fall down the side of the building. “Pretty wild, hey, Gary?”

  “Pretty wild? Pretty wild? Judas, you just fell about five hundred feet and there isn’t a scratch on either of you. Knowing what I know about you, I can understand it but that fall should’ve killed Charlotte from the impact alone. How the hell did you—”

  Abi interrupts him as she reaches them, trying to speak through breathless panting.

  Gary grabs a hold of her arm to steady her. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

  She is struggling to formulate her words so she just resorts to pointing down the street.

  Just at the edge of their visibility, in front of a barrier of smoke, they can see shapes looming; twisted and staggered masses that through the haze of the smoke appear primitive looking in posture.

  Judas grabs Charlotte and lifts her into his arms. “Time to go, people, we will have to talk about this later. We need to move fast and use as much cover as possible. If we are compromised, form a barrier
around Charlotte and I will kill every last one of whatever challenges us, got it?”

  Gary nods.

  Abi huffs and bends over, her hands on her knees. “More running? You gotta be shitting me!”

  Gary grabs hold of her and for the first time since they met, realizes she has been wearing heels the whole time and now swings them by her side in her left hand. Her feet look swollen and sore.

  “For crying out loud, Abi, you should’ve said. Look at your feet. Can you run?”

  A terrifying scream rips through the curtain of smoke and he turns to look at it. He turns back towards Abi to say something more, but she has already taken off and is making good ground away from him. “I’ll take that as a yes then,” he laughs.

  The next fifty minutes are spent navigating their way around obstacles and the Taken, as they traverse the city streets from Broadway to the Holland Tunnel. Periodically, hulking and grunting masses of creatures bar their path, forcing them to take refuge inside entrances to buildings, or change their route down alleyways and this is making the journey take much longer than it should. They pass multitudes of burnt out vehicles and the corpses of those unaffected by Lucifer’s reach with the streets resembling a warzone, as the smell of smoke and death drifts across the once great city of New York; a city now under Lucifer’s firm and damning control. As the group rounds the corner of Sixth Avenue onto Canal Street, they stumble across the remains and wreckage of a National Guard contingent. Two military hummers stand at forty-five degree angles to one another, both are empty, although the remains of some of the crew are scattered around the vehicles.

  Gary surveys the wreckage and shakes his head. “I guess the weak of mind are everywhere. No doubt they were here to stop people crossing into Jersey, but they encountered a foe they had never trained for… themselves.”

  Judas ushers the group onwards as they pass the mutilated corpse of a guardsman, his face contorted into a grimace of fear and agony.

  “Don’t look, Charlotte,” he says, placing his arm around her shoulder, ushering her head to face forwards, “just keep walking, sweetie.”