The Requiem Collection: The Book of Jubilees, More Anger Than Sorrow & Calling Babel

by Eric Black

  He took a left off the ramp, passed over the highway he had just exited, and took another right to enter the road that would lead to the terminal. He parked his truck and entered the airport. Looking up at the flight board as he entered, he saw that his mother’s flight was on time.

  He looked down at his watch – thirty minutes until her flight landed. He went to one of the gift shops and bought a candy bar, soda, and newspaper and sat down to wait for his mother. Forty five minutes later, he was helping his mother into his truck.

  They drove to his father’s house and his mother questioned him about the fire at his office. He described the situation as it had happened and was just getting to his role in the fire when they turned the corner onto his father’s street. He would finish the story later.

  Babel could see his mother scowl from the corner of his eye as they pulled into the driveway.

  During his parent’s marriage, his father had spent very little time working on the house or the yard. His father would buy materials for a project and then leave those items in the garage for months before he actually started the project. The house before them was well-kept as was the yard. The neatness was obviously a source of resentment.

  Babel ignored his mother’s scowl. He turned off the engine, then got out and opened his mother’s door.

  Together they walked to the front door, which Babel unlocked and opened. His mother and he stepped into the sunlit house. For a while she didn’t speak, she just looked around. Babel thought he saw her tear up a few up times but his mother’s hair had a way of falling across her face so he wasn’t sure.

  He gave her a few more minutes, staying back by the door. He started to take a step towards her when he noticed her pick up a picture. He stopped himself and she didn’t notice his slight movement. She was lost in thought as she gazed at a picture of Babel as a baby.

  In that moment, Alicia thought back to when she had first met John, walking through the commons area at the university. She was instantly struck with the man and six months later they were married. Looking for something stable, John entered the military the following fall. It wasn’t long before Babel entered the picture. “What should we name him?” John had asked.

  “Let’s call him Babel. Isn’t that an old family name?”

  John nodded. “It is. But that’s a last name. That would be an unusual first name.”

  “Our son will be anything but usual. He’ll be extraordinary.”

  John considered her comment and smiled. “Okay, Babel it is.”

  Alicia put the picture of her infant son down and turned to look at her adult son. “What are you looking at?”

  Babel shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know. What am I looking at?”

  “Babel, are you suggesting your mother is getting soft in her advancing age?”

  “I’m not saying that. Are you saying that?”

  Alicia smiled. “Maybe just a little. So, where is the photo of the Taj Mahal?”

  Babel grabbed the photo off the desk.

  She pulled her glasses out of her purse and put them on. She looked closely at the picture and as she did, a slight smile crossed her lips. “I remember when your father first showed me this picture.” Babel looked at his mother with anticipation. “It was after he came back from India for the first time. I can’t tell you what he was doing there. Something with the military, of course. But I remember when he showed it do me. He was so proud that he had been there.”

  “So why does the back of the photo say Home?”

  His mother took a deep breath. “There’s something you should know Babel.”

  Babel looked at his mother seriously. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your father. I don’t know if it was his choice or if something happened but he’s gone home. That’s what he means by the word on the back of the picture.”

  “What do you mean he’s gone home? This is his home.”

  Alicia nodded at the picture. “Your father’s not from here.”

  “I know he’s not from here.” Babel interrupted. “He’s from Michigan. Are you saying he went to Michigan?”

  “Look at the picture Babel.”

  Babel looked at the picture of the Taj Mahal. “I don’t understand. Are you saying Dad is from India?”

  “Not from India. From the Taj Mahal.”

  “How can anyone be from the Taj Mahal? That doesn’t make any…”

  “Babel.” Alicia said calmly, interrupting. “You see the waters in front of the Taj Mahal?” Wearily Babel looked at the photo again. He saw the waters and nodded his head. “The source of those waters are where your father is from.”

  “Mom…”

  “Listen Babel. Your father is not from this world. There is another world that lies beyond ours. Several in fact. But only one of those worlds can be entered through the waters of the Taj Mahal.”

  The only thing Babel could think of to do was laugh. He couldn’t help it. When he finished, he looked at his mother and noticed her soberness. Babel smiled. “So you’re saying that Dad is an alien?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And that makes me…”

  “Half-alien, exactly.”

  “But you’re not an alien?”

  “No, not an alien.”

  “Mom, listen…”

  “No Babel, you listen. Whether you believe it or not, your father is from another world. Somehow or another, I believe he has gone back to that world.”

  Babel decided to humor her. “So let’s say that Dad actually is an alien and went back to his alien world in the swimming pool in front of the Taj Mahal. So what do we do now?”

  Alicia answered her son as seriously as she could muster, and her voice showed her conviction. “Babel, if your father went back to that world, I don’t think it was by choice.”

  “You’ve been to this other world?”

  Alicia shook her head. “No, but your father showed me. He showed me how to look into the waters and see through them.”

  Babel looked up sharply at his mother. “What do you mean?”

  “He wanted me to know so in case he ever went back to that world, you would know how to find him again.”

  “Me? How can I enter a world that doesn’t exist? Should I just dive into the waters? Maybe there is a secret tunnel in the bottom that I can swim through.”

  “I only know that that world can be entered through the waters. On the other side, I’m not sure how it works.”

  “So you don’t know how Dad ended up here?”

  “Your father was sent here.”

  “That doesn’t make any…”

  “Babel, listen to me.” Alicia looked into her son’s eyes. “You can go there because you are of your father. You are the only one who can. If your father is there, he needs get back here.”

  “Why? If he did go to another world, it’s because he obviously wanted to. Why does he need me to rescue him?’

  “Because that world is not safe. I can’t explain everything right now. But if you love your father, and despite all of his faults, I still do, then you have to bring him back.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Yes, you do. Do me a favor, look at the picture and then close your eyes.”

  “Mom…”

  “Just do it. Please, Babel.”

  Babel nodded. He looked at the picture for a few moments and then closed his eyes. At first there was nothing. Then, he saw it. He saw his father’s world. And he believed.

  Babel’s eyes flew open. His mother was watching his face and she knew he had seen. She knew he believed. Babel looked at his mother. “We have to get to India.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Triana looked across the room at the Keeper. Absentmindedly, her hand touched the scar that ran across her neck. The wound had already healed and the faint scar had nearly disappeared. (The memory of that wound would not heal so quickly.)

  The Keeper did not gaze back as he exited the chamber.
He had decided not to wait and had seduced her after all. He knew she would not resist him.

  Triana watched him leave through the single entrance to the Chamber of the Stone. She was still lying on Stone of Návratu. Even though he had left, she could still feel his body on hers – his hands, his mouth – she pushed the thoughts from her mind. She considered briefly searching the Stone for the sword and ending her own life but she knew she didn’t have the strength. It was not enough that she had given the Keeper her soul, she had also given him her body. She did not have the courage to defy him and so she knew she would not have the courage to fall upon the sword.

  Instead, she rolled over and gazed up at the ancient ceiling at the beautiful mural that was painted there. It was obvious the mural was very old. In certain areas, the paint had nearly completely faded, exposing the foundation of the ceiling.

  The mural showed winged people sitting upon clouds. One of the winged people was bearded and held a long slender object that fanned out on the end. It looked as if the man with wings was about blow through the object. She wondered the purpose of the object; if it was like their flöjt or perhaps some sort of weapon.

  She stared at the ceiling silently for some time and her thoughts turned to her uncle. He would be ashamed of her. She had been frightened by the Keeper and had given in to him.

  She was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t hear the footsteps of the two men who had come to take her back to her cell. She heard them just as they reached her. She looked up at them and focused on the man on the right. She could almost read his thoughts – “Just another one of the Keeper’s playthings.” The man smiled and placed his hand on her stomach. Then, he started to slide his hand down.

  Until that moment, no one besides the Keeper had touched her. He had guarded her during her imprisonment. It appeared that had now changed. It was at that moment that her shame turned to anger.

  If the men would have been looking at her eyes and not her naked body, they would have seen her eyes flashing. Her grey eyes turned dark. If they had looked into her eyes deep enough, they would have seen her irises swirling, resembling a storm. Beneath her anger, she could feel the rage fueling the anger. She felt alive.

  The man who was not touching her happened to glance at her face, hoping to enjoy the expression of horror at being touched the way she was (it was obvious they were going to take turns). The emotion was not horror and the man’s perverse grin was checked.

  The man who was touching her erupted in flames. The second man had only time enough to hear the cry and feel the flames from his companion before he was engulfed as well. The flames also burned Triana but she didn’t care. As the men were distracted by her body, she had slid the weapon of one of the men from its place on his hip. Among the settings of the weapon was the ejection of an intense bolide.

  The men fell backwards onto the rock floor and the flames intensified as the men were roasted within their own skin. She watched the men writhing with a grim smile as they slowly died before her.

  She rose from the Stone and could smell their burned hair and flesh. The bodies still smoldered and smoke rose from their corpses as she stepped over them. The heat had been so intense and the flames had risen so rapidly that the two bodies that had already begun to show pyrolysis.

  Triana’s anger firmed her resolve. She walked to the doorway of the Chamber and turned and looked back at the Stone. Recent memories of the Keeper and her lying together on the Stone entered her mind and her rage turned red.

  She leveled the weapon and pressed the button; the air around the Stone erupted in flames. She fired again and again and the intensity of the heat grew until the temperature of the air directly around the Stone reached solidus. The Stone slowly began to melt, collapsing to become a blob of semi-molten rock. She knew the sword that had been concealed in the Stone was among the ruins.

  Satisfied, she turned her attention to her surroundings. She entered a long tunnel that ran straight through the rock. She had expected to see some of the Klopph as she left the Chamber but she saw no one. Perhaps the Chamber was a sacred place reserved for only specific Klopph.

  The floor of the passageway had an increasing upward angle as she walked. She passed several side chambers as she continued but did not stop to investigate any of these. Several of the side chambers had metal bars across their entrances.

  Finally she reached a large chamber that was lit by natural light through small shafts cut into the ceiling. Along the walls of the round chamber, she saw several other passageways leading off in various directions. There were eight passageways in all.

  As she entered the room, she saw several men stand in alarm at her arrival. Before they could react, her weapon ignited them.

  She walked further into the room, her eyes gazing constantly for the Keeper. She did not see him.

  The passageway directly across the room from where she entered was more lit than the other passageways. That was the passageway for which she headed. As she walked, more men entered the room and they died in flames as well. She entered the lit passageway, leaving the screams of smoldering men behind her.

  The passageway went on for quite some time and then branched off in several directions. Finally the passageway ended in sunlight. Unclothed, with no water, food, or any supplies or weapons, but alive, Triana entered the Barren Lands.

  CHAPTER TEN

  New Orleans was remarkably untouched.

  The fifty six people who had survived and now dwelled within the facility sent a team of five people to investigate the surrounding areas. They wanted to determine the damage and see what was being done by the government to reestablish control. What they found was that most people were dead – killed by violence or crushed under fallen structures.

  Among the five was a man named Jacques. Jacques was a native of New Orleans where his Creole family had lived for hundreds of years. And as far as he could tell he was the last surviving member of his family.

  His entire family had lived in the Garden District and these homes were the first place that Jacques went. He found only bodies of loved ones and evidence of great violence.

  Jacques was not the same going forward. Something inside of him had closed up at witnessing the assaulted bodies of his mother and sister. The scene told the story of their death. His father’s body was found with his throat slit.

  The homes of the rest of his family told similar stories. Bodies of his cousins, his aunts and uncles, and his lone grandmother – all found. The root of their deaths was very evident.

  Morosely, Jacques followed his people around the city, looking for signs of life. There were several other small groups of people but they kept their distance. The people of the city had seen great violence and the other groups were not taking any chances. Jacques’ assemblage saw very few people outside of those gatherings.

  The last group they came across was not so unapproachable. The group of eight men had seen Jacques’ group as an easy target. Armed with guns, they expected surprise and intimidation to rule the encounter. Jacques did not comply. He held a deep anger at the violent death of his family and in that moment, held the eight men responsible.

  Jacques was also armed, as were the other members of his party. Jacques drew his weapon without speaking and began firing, his first shot hitting the front man in the chest. Blood exploded onto the street and the man was propelled backwards by the high caliber slug. The others in Jacques party drew and fired as well. Most of the group had never fired a weapon before and most of their shots missed. Jacques was an expert marksman. His shots made up for his group’s inaccuracy.

  The group of street thugs – now seven – made a weak effort to shoot back but it was clear the man in front was their leader. With him dead, their resolve weakened. No longer was it a game of easy intimidation and robbery (plus other acts if there were females involved). Now their lives were at risk and this was more than they wanted to gamble. They tried to run but Jacques mowed them down.

  When it was ove
r, they looked across the concrete field at the spilled blood and grey matter. Eight bodies sprawled across the road littered with burned cars and broken glass. They all turned and looked at Jacques. When he had begun firing first, their instinct to survive had caused them to react. Now that the smoke from gunfire had cleared and the adrenaline of the moment had subsided, they regarded Jacques. “What were you thinking?” one of the men asked Jacques.

  “I was thinking I didn’t want to die here on the street. And then, I didn’t think. I just pulled the trigger. Just like you.”

  The men looked at Jacques and then one another. “Well, I guess we better get moving.” one of the other men finally said.

  “What about the bodies?” one of the men asked.

  “Leave them.” replied Jacques. “Give the dogs something to eat.”

  They searched the rest of the city and found small pockets of people but none that challenged them. They took several readings and test swabs for evidence of biological variants and radiation; they found small traces of radiation but would have to wait until they returned to the facility to test the biological samples. After spending the night in an abandoned hotel in the French Quarter, they returned back to the facility.

  They tested the samples before addressing the group with their full report. Among the samples, they found traces of anthrax, Yersinia pestis or the Plague, and an aggressive mutated strand of Tularemia. “I think it is too dangerous for us there.” Jacques concluded. “The air there is not good and I’m sure the water is worse. We should stay here for a while longer. Here we have a contained atmosphere and water and food for at least a year.” Julius, who had somehow become the person they all looked to, agreed.

  Over the next few months, they searched the surrounding areas looking for signs that the air quality was becoming better. One of the locations they investigated was the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in nearly Belle Chasse. They learned too late that at that location, the presence of biological diseases was most dense. The base was completely gone and the radiation levels there were very high. They didn’t think it had been hit by a hydrogen bomb but it had obviously encountered a brutal attack.