The Last Watchmen

by Christopher D Schmitz

  “Love is the one thing that is true,” a young woman said. She walked up from behind and wrapped her arms around Jude. Dekker immediately recognized his mother. “We can agree on that.”

  “You do know, though,” Muramasa pointed out, “The Watchmen would be very welcome in the Jerusalem fortress. No force has ever broken through the great city’s defenses. Your group would be quite safe there, I’m sure—given your common ground on certain historical events.”

  “We’d become useless,” Diacharia interjected. “Our mission, what we stand for, demands we remain in the world, not outside of it, cloistered away where our message is silenced.”

  An explosion suddenly rocked the building. An alarm blared throughout the compound.

  “It is them,” Muramasa jumped to his feet. “The Druze. Your enemy has tracked you here; we must defend ourselves.”

  “Hero,” Ezekiel tossed a shell to Dekker as the air crackled with another detonation. “You’ll need this.”

  Dekker grabbed the Reliquary and sprinted to the courtyard, following after Jude, Diacharia, and Muramasa. Outside, under the shadow of a hovering platform, the trees burned as Muramasa’s men fought hand to hand against the intruders. The monks easily overwhelmed the invaders with superior skill.

  After minutes of intense fighting, many of the insurgents retreated, climbing rope ladders back to their hovering transport. A figure appeared on the platform’s edge.

  Prognon Austicon. Dekker immediately recognized the ageless assassin as he leaned over the platform edge and pointed a rifle at Muramasa. Too far away to react, Dekker watched as time seemed to slow down. Jude leapt in front of Muramasa as the weapon discharged.

  Blood splattered from Jude’s chest and he and Muramasa tumbled to the dirt. Vesuvius’s uncle wrapped his arms around the young man who’d saved him and dragged him away from the battle.

  Dekker roared in anger as he slammed the cartridge into the chamber of the Reliquary. He aimed the barrel skyward. Austicon turned and looked into Dekker’s eyes, seeing this enemy for the first time in the terrorist’s life.

  Pulling hard on the trigger, Dekker unleashed a torrent of white, lightning flame. A conduit of intense, emerald energy, wider than he was tall and crackling with power, blasted through the hovering platform, smashing it to atoms.

  Hurled sidelong, the smoldering wreckage collapsed to the ground. As the defenders cheered, Dekker ran to Jude’s side where Muramasa held him upright.

  “Medic!” Muramasa demanded. “He saved my life.”

  “I know. Now I’m gonna save his.” Dekker ripped open his father’s shirt. The bullet glanced off the serpentine amulet he wore, deflecting it away from Jude’s heart, though it still lodged dangerously close.

  Dekker knew how to treat bullet wounds; he’d lost enough comrades in the past that it had become an acquired skill. It looked grisly, but so long as Jude got proper attention he would be fine.

  While Dekker applied first aid, Ezekiel picked up the reliquary and gave it to Diacharia along with a hand drawn map. “Take care of this. You saw what one shell does. Two shells will unleash the very finger of God upon your enemies. But never triple-load it, that powerful blast could quite literally destroy the universe.”

  “And what’s this?” Diacharia asked, holding up the map.

  “Buried treasure,” he replied with a wink.

  Several long minutes later, Ezekiel tapped Dekker on the shoulder. “The worst of it is over. You saw him through it, Dekker. You saved his life. Mission accomplished.”

  “I thought you said I was destined to fail?”

  “Not here and now. But we do have to go.”

  “Don’t we have all the time in the world?” Dekker challenged the time traveler.

  “Yes, but we can only do what we’ve already done,” Ezekiel restated.

  Dekker didn’t like his answer, but he stood anyway and followed Ezekiel towards the temple doors.

  “I will tell him that you saved his life, Dekker,” Muramasa promised. “I am sure Jude will honor you in whatever way he can.”

  ***

  The humidity clung to the stone stairs in the deepening night air. Backlit by the burning wreckage of Austicon’s attack, Dekker’s foot slipped and he skidded down a couple of the steps as he trailed after the old man. “What was that all about?”

  “We had to make sure that we prevented your father’s death, obviously.”

  “Did we just change history?”

  “No! I’ve already told you, we have to do what’s been done already. It’s all part of the plan. We are not changing any history; we are just participating in it so that it does not change again. We had to make sure that you were conceived; your parents have only begun to recognize their love for each other. In one year Diacharia will perform their marriage ceremony.” Ezekiel paused. “It was a beautiful ceremony, but the lamb was a bit dry for my taste.”

  Ezekiel continued down the steps.

  “So this was all about me?”

  “Well, don’t get such a big head, but yes. If you aren’t conceived, you couldn’t be here now.”

  Dekker stopped. He couldn’t figure out all the details in the logic. He assumed that Ezekiel didn’t understand them all either.

  He chased after the old man again. An unexpected hope sprang up within him; perhaps there was a chance to save Aleel in all of this.

  Ezekiel spoke aloud again as he fiddled with his machine. He talked more to himself than to Dekker whose thoughts were suddenly consumed with formulating a rescue plan. “We can only do what we’ve already done. We are in the past, after all,” he chuckled, and then took Dekker’s hand, slipping into the ether.

  ***

  Dekker’s eyes opened and he sat up on his seat. He’d been propped up on the bar like a drunk, though his return to consciousness had fewer nasty effects than alcohol. He shook off the grog.

  Ezekiel patted him on the back and pointed to the video screen. It was midday and so only a few patrons milled about in the bar—mostly chronic drunks; the newsfeed played to the delinquents who made this place home. “Do you recognize this?”

  He squinted through the smoky air that dried his eyes. Recognition made his heart pound; newsfeeds showed the Parliament Courtyard burgeoning with protesters quietly demonstrating their disapproval. It was the day! “This is the day I lost everything.”

  “The day that made you what you are now?”

  “It redefined me. What time is it?” he demanded, frantically searching for a clock.

  “We can’t change what happens today, Dekker. Only play the part we always did in its events. I know you’re confused, but we have to stop Dodona.”

  “Who?”

  “They are religious zealots, the same group that tried to assassinate your father on the night we just came from. Prognon Austicon commands them, on behalf of the Verdant Seven.”

  “That was the Druze, not Dodona! And this is the day my father dies! The day they all die!”

  “I know; Dodona uses whatever tools are available—for a time that tool is the Druze. And today, we stop Dodona and Prognon Austicon!”

  “Then we have to go,” Dekker implored. “There isn’t much time.”

  “First, you must know your enemy. How long have you chased Austicon? I’ve diverted his plans for many years, well, just days in my time. The last two decades alone I’ve concentrated on saving your father.”

  A moment of understanding hit Dekker. “Austicon’s not human. What is he?”

  “He was a man, once: an archaeologist who found a vile, cursed thing beneath the Phoenician sands. A man twice possessed, by both the seed of a dead intergalactic entity and a vengeful Baal. Nothing remains of the man. After nearly a millennia, he’s become an incarnation of the Arbolean race and represents their hopes and dreams.”

  “Arboleans?”

  “Even they don’t understand the danger of Baal, the demonic entity within is the real threat to the universe—far more than a grove of once-sa
cred trees. Come, we must go, now.”

  “To stop Austicon?”

  “Indeed.”

  Dekker hoped against hope. Maybe I can fix this! Perhaps Aleel could be saved! Long had he dreamed of the opportunity to save the life of his wife and unborn child.

  ***

  Digital flashbulbs popped and recharged as the MEA Tribunal on Religions called upon Jude Knight to take the podium inside the Parliament building. A young lady in the advanced stages of pregnancy escorted him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Knight for joining us today,” the chairman stated. “Your religious group, The Watchmen, however small, is well respected by what few legally operating faith groups remain.” A few in the audience sneered. “Most of those humans clinging to old faiths instead of the Universal Philosophies have grown unquestionably dangerous in recent years, especially more so since citizenship was offered to the Krenzin. Here is the purpose of this council—we must decide: Are Religions Dangerous?”

  “Well,” the graying Jude replied, “Belief and nonbelief are both matters of faith. But I am no expert, as were the others before me. What weight can my opinion carry?”

  “Even in those cults deemed terroristic in nature, interrogation always brings up your name. Across the board, you are respected by your contemporaries. Could you explain this?”

  “We just love.” Jude shrugged. “Our beliefs come from out conviction, faith, and even evidence. Living out our faith is our only need to proselytize. We do not need weapons; we don’t force conversion. We proclaim our beliefs through our lives—it is the best and truest testimony.”

  “And yet,” the councilman pressed, “most religious groups’ primary activities seem to include waging war on their enemies: other cults or religious factions.” The councilman set a large binder down on the podium. “We’ve collected a vast amount of material on what has been called the ‘Secret Wars.’ Because of your nonviolent tradition, your voice is the one the council chose to hear as we determine whether or not all groups of faith should be permanently banned.”

  “I am aware of that,” Jude spoke into the microphone. “I think it a testament to my position, and to the cooperative mission of inter-faith peace, that so many men and women you claim are bitter enemies stand outside, unified in support of my testimony here today.”

  The walls rumbled slightly. A dull roar from the cheers in the Parliamentary courtyard, where the proceedings were broadcast live, shook the building.

  “This is our greatest testimony,” Jude continued. “Life. Genuine love and faith are the keys to peace and truth.” He motioned for Aleel to step up to the microphone. Jude patted her round belly. “This is Aleel, my daughter in law and mother to my first grandchild. Raised in a sect that pledged to destroy all supporters of the sovereign Jerusalem nation, she was raised to hate, but she now lives to love. I will let her tell you how important faith groups are.”

  ***

  Dekker followed Ezekiel as they skirted the edge of the massive crowd arrayed outside the parliament. His eyes fixated on the jumbo video projection screen… on his beloved Aleel. He knew exactly where his younger self stood at this very moment, at the head of the crowd and just in front of the closed Parliament doors.

  “Where are we going? I know where Austicon strikes next! We’re going the wrong way.”

  “You’re not seeing the big picture. Before we can consider the events in the Parliament, we must stop Dodona from kidnapping Corcoran Andrews. He needs to disappear.”

  “Never heard of him.” Dekker hustled to keep up.

  Ezekiel had quickening his pace as he checked his timepiece.

  Dekker adjusted the fit of his temporal phase-stabilizer strapped to his forearm. “Who is he?”

  “The scientist who destroys Earth. His invention instigates the eradication of Jerusalem and enables a doomsday weapon to consume the planet. Without Earth, the colonies on the outer planets eventually wither and die. Humanity ceases.”

  “That’s what stops the Machine?”

  “No. It’s you who destroys reality.” He checked his watch again. “Well, by extension, when Austicon kills you, or if he kills you, or if you kill you. The end was very confusing, what with the planet blowing up and all. But that’s not for almost twenty years, and there is plenty of time to set all the pieces in motion.”

  Ezekiel led the flabbergasted Dekker into a research facility a few blocks away. “You must protect Andrews at all costs, even on your life. If Austicon takes Andrews now, all is lost, and if he kills you today, then you won’t gain the vengeance-fueled drive to stop this madmen for the next two decades, and my mission would be rendered redundant. Andrews is on the second floor.”

  “Wait. If this has already happened before, in the past, then wouldn’t you already know if I saved Andrews or not and if I die saving him?”

  “Now you’re catching on.” Ezekiel winked and then turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Dekker asked, more convinced by the vagaries that he could possibly save Aleel.

  “I’m going to save your life—even if you apparently don’t remember it.”

  ***

  Dekker walked quickly through the hall, scanning the nameplates on the office doors until he found Andrews. He knocked briefly and then entered. “Corcoran Andrews?”

  “Yes?” A young man looked up from his workbench. “Who’s asking?”

  “Listen. You’re probably not going to believe me, but there are some dangerous men looking for you.”

  Andrews pulled a small caliber pistol from under his desk and pointed it at Dekker. “Are you one of them?”

  Dekker put his hands up, chuckling. “Hang on to that piece. It’s going to become illegal in about two days. And that will make it very valuable.”

  “So which are you? The guy who’s been trying to steal my research or the one who wants to kill me for posting unpopular opinions about the Krenzin on the DBB?”

  “I hear you. I’ve got no love for them either, but I don’t even know what you’re working on. I just know that there’s a group of men who are planning to kidnap you and I’ve been sent to stop that.”

  “Women, actually,” said a female voice.

  Dekker felt the barrel of a gun prod him in the back through the doorway. She motioned for Andrews to drop his gun; the scientist complied.

  Three females, each waving assault rifles, pushed Dekker inside the office.

  “You,” the leader barked at Andrews, “gather your research. You’re coming with us.”

  Andrews looked to Dekker. Dekker nodded. Andrews inserted a portable drive and punched in six sets of passcodes to unlock his secure data and transfer it to the drive.

  The leader snatched it from Andrews’ hands and put five bullets into Andrews’ computer and backup systems. She pointed her gun at his head.

  Andrews winced and yelled, “My research isn’t done yet! It’s no good with me dead.”

  “That’s why you’re coming with us. She cuffed his wrists together with a self-locking tie and shoved him towards her accomplices. “But you? You’re expendable.”

  Three flashes burst from Dekker’s right hand and the three kidnappers lay dead on floor. He looked down the sights of his smoking pistol, “And you’re way too slow.”

  Dekker cut Andrews’ bindings and pushed the scientist’s small pistol into his hands. “Believe me now?”

  The stunned scientist only nodded, scrambling to retrieve the drive containing his life’s work. Shell-shocked, he verged on hyperventilation.

  “Follow me, then.” Dekker led him to the building’s security suite on the first floor. “You have to listen to me. These people, they will not stop. You’re creating something that they want very badly. Whatever it is you create, it’s powerful enough to destroy the galaxy.”

  Andrews gave him a funny look. “But I’m working with theories of inter-dimensional travel and mass gravitational dynamics.”

  Now Dekker gave him a wry look.

  “It’s
just transportation… a kind of long range teleportation. There’s no weaponization to it at all. And how do you know so much about what I will do?”

  Dekker flashed him the device on his wrist as he queued up the news feeds from the nearby Parliament. “I’m from the future.” He didn’t bother trying to explain, thinking it too ludacris an explanation to bother—he’d figured it was all a dream anyhow and there was no sense in fighting it.

  “That makes perfect sense,” Andrews said, fully buying in. “That device enables your time travel?”

  “Yeah,” He replied, only half paying attention to the scientist. “Crap!” Dekker switched between news feeds; his anxiety about Aleel grew. “It’s about to get really bad out there.” He turned his attention back to his primary task. “You’ve got to get lost, disappear. Make up a new identity, whatever, but if you don’t vanish, they will find you and very bad things will happen.”

  Andrews nodded and agreed with him, but his curiosity was fixed upon the stabilizer on Dekker’s arm. His inquisitive nature seemed to override everything else, even the tense political climate streaming on the live video link.

  ***

  Ezekiel finally pushed through the edge of the crowd and up to the top of the steps. He found a much younger Dekker waiting for the guards to let him enter the closed Parliament doors after the proceedings. “So tell me about yourself,” Ezekiel made small talk, watching his timepiece.

  The young, unassuming Dekker rambled, trying to let small-talk take his mind off the importance of the political proceedings inside. Ezekiel already knew his story, how Dekker’s family led a small group, the Watchmen, ever since the disappearance of Diacharia, their priest. They guarded the last of the sacred writings and traced their order’s history to Solomon’s Templars. The Israeli remnant had survived within the Jerusalem fortress, existing as a separate entity from the MEA, but the Watchmen, not connected by lineage, remained outside, chiseled down through the generations of Secret Wars. Of course, Dekker didn’t share all that history—just that his wife and father were inside and he was anxious to see them—especially after recent threats against their lives.