The Awakener (The Watchers of Men)

by Amanda Strong

  “Oh.”

  “And, I sort of wanted to know…” He hesitated and she realized he was just as nervous as she was. “If you wanted to go with me, you know, like a date.”

  She swallowed hard to keep from gasping. She could only imagine how loud Jessie would crow about being right if she’d been here.

  “Sure,” she said finally. She could feel the heat coming off her face.

  Andrew’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Awesome.”

  Gathering their belongings felt awkward. She was reeling that he was actually interested in her. All the teasing, the looks her way, had meant something after all.

  I’m not good at reading body language. Maybe I had better listen to Jessie more. She’s in drama—maybe they teach that stuff there.

  “Do you need a ride?” Andrew asked as they bound down the steps.

  “No, my mom’s coming. How about you?”

  They’d reached the field. He held up his keys and grinned. “Got my license in October. When’s your birthday?”

  The question seemed casual, but she couldn’t help but notice his direct gaze.

  “March 10th. So no keys for me.”

  He grunted. “I know the feeling. My friends are all older than I am, so last year didn’t suck too bad ‘cause I just rode with them. But my dad and I started restoring my Bronco.” He glanced at her. “It’s a ‘69, blue, chrome trim, all-leather bikini top, nice rims, all-terrain tires.”

  He stopped and she decided he thought she should be impressed. “Sounds nice.” No idea what he just said.

  “So I was chomping at the bit for my license this year. I’ve got a sweet ride now.”

  Again, he peeked at her.

  “Cool,” she confirmed.

  He grinned. They were passing the tennis courts now. She could see across the front lawn that her mom’s SUV was idling in the bus loop, waiting to pick her up. Glancing at the students parking to the left, she spied a blue, jeep-looking thing. Must be his Bronco.

  They’d come to a parting of ways.

  Andrew spied her mom’s car too. “Thanks for the help.”

  “No problem.” She wanted to flee before he might bring up their date.

  “So, see you Monday?” he asked slowly.

  “Yep, see ya.” She was turning on her heel, ready to bolt, when her body lunged forward instead. In one step, she was face to face with him.

  His emerald eyes opened wide and then she was hugging him, almost knocking him backwards.

  What the heck! She detangled herself, backpedaling as fast as she could. What’s wrong with me?

  He grinned widely, masking his surprise. He gave her a wink. “See ya, Eden.”

  Then he jogged away, leaving her smoldering in shame.

  It’s like my body has a mind of its own, hugging everyone and their dog.

  Micah knew Trent was worried so he took a break from his research. After all, it was Friday night, Trent reminded him. It’d been a week since the woman in red had relayed her message. Micah wished she’d return; he never thought he’d miss her so much.

  They were meandering through the salas of the Museo Pio-Clementino, just one of the many museums within the Vatican. Trent had been anxious to see the Sistine Chapel, the most famous gallery of the museum. The tour group they joined had stopped at a single statue; the tour guide was rattling off an explanation in Italian. Micah glanced at Trent.

  He whispered, “She’s telling how the sculpture of Laocoon was the first purchase they made five-hundred years ago—it was the start of the museum. Pope Julius II had Michelangelo and Guiliano da Sangallo go and buy it in the vineyard of,” he paused, “do you want to know all the details?”

  Micah shook his head no. He had enough names, dates, and facts running through his head with reading the Book of Enoch. Trent shrugged and began listening to the tour guide again. Micah knew his cousin secretly loved the history lesson that came with each tour. He happily followed the group as they moved on.

  “We’re in the gallery of statues now,” Trent informed him, as they entered a tunnel-like hall with statues lining both sides of the walls. There were frescos painted on the walls, mosaic tiles patterning the floors, and several marble figures filling the hall. The guide was pointing to a marble bust of a man, probably giving the story behind it. When she moved on, her short heels clicking on the tiles, Micah stepped closer to admire the sculpture. He was drawn to the man’s face, the long, straight nose, semi-parted lips, wavy hair, and unseeing eyes all carved out of marble.

  “The guide said he was a Greek Dramatist born in 342 BC. He wrote hundreds of comedies. She said they used to think this was Marius, but now they think it’s really Menander. Poor Marius got the shaft,” Trent said, startling Micah. He had walked up behind him. Something was so familiar about this moment… the sensation of déjà vu prickled the hairs on Micah’s arms.

  This is my vision! This was what I’d been staring at when Trent walked up. So, now what?

  “Who was Marius?” he asked, hoping to glean the reason behind seeing this.

  Trent stared at him. “You’ve never heard of Marius? You need to get out more, or at least listen in World History class more. Marius was a stallion! He completely reformed the Roman military. He went about everything on his own terms, didn’t care for all the bureaucratic crap. Before he came along, you had to own land to be in the army. Marius formed his own army with anyone who wanted a job, a paycheck, and the promise of land once their service was over. And he was unbeatable. Those that didn’t like him tried to replace him, but when the Barbarians took over northern Rome, they called him back. And he saved Rome, again. His army was loyal to him. He was the beginning of ‘He who controls the army controls Rome’. He is legendary to Romans.”

  “I’m impressed. I had no idea you were so into this stuff.”

  Trent shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I love Italy. I’ve been studying the culture, language, and history for a while. So I guess,” Trent said slowly, “I can understand your obsession with the City of Enoch, in a way.”

  Startled, Micah replied, “I didn’t know you knew what we’re reading about.”

  “Micah, I see things you don’t see. I hear things you don’t hear,” he joked. His last words left them both silent.

  “Trent,” Micah began. This is what I’ve been dreading—how to tell Trent the truth? He was afraid if he told Trent about the Gennaros part in it, he would tell Micah’s parents and he’d be on the next flight to Virginia. The last thing his parents wanted was for their already-kooky son to be around two kooky old people.

  “About the other night, you did hear something that I didn’t hear,” Micah finished.

  Trent was sober. “I know. I’ve been stressing that I’m catching your Looney Tunes stuff.”

  Micah took a deep breath. Here goes nothing!

  The words tumbled out. “I have visions… dreams, at night, and sometimes during the day. I saw you and me here, in Rome, in this very room actually. There’s a reason I’m here. I need to learn from the Gennaros. I don’t expect you to believe me.”

  Trent listened and then asked, “What do you dream about?”

  The group they were with had begun walking to the next sala, and they followed, lagging behind.

  “I’ve seen one thing over and over.” And Caterina’s saw it too, he thought, but didn’t say. “It’s a fire that consumes everything. No one survives it.”

  Trent said nothing for a moment. “What else do you see?”

  This dream was much more pleasant to Micah, filling his mind for the past two nights.

  “I keep seeing a building. Well, more like a fortress. It’s huge, its brilliant, and it looks like it’s made out of gold or something. In my dream, I want to go in. I need to go in and there are tons of people entering large, tall doors. The line of people goes on and on. I don’t go in though. I hang back, although I’m not sure why. I feel like I’m searching for someone.”

  Expecting a smirk, or punch in
the arm, Micah waited. Trent was staring at the ground.

  He glanced up and, with unfocused eyes, stated, “And you’ve been studying the City of Enoch.” He paused. “There is going to be a fire, like the one you saw, and it’ll cover everything, I mean everything, the whole world. But some people will survive. It’ll be those who are inside the city you saw, the golden city, the new City of Enoch. It’s sort of like the ark with Noah. Only those inside the ark were safe from the flood.” He locked eyes with Micah. “You have a part to play in building these cities, these modern arks.”

  Micah gawked at him, dumbstruck.

  Trent’s under some sort of spell; he never talks like this. He said cities, not city. I didn’t tell him I saw more than one. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  Trent cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Man, you’ve been studying some heavy stuff, not sure I want to know anymore.”

  Micah grunted. “Tell me about it.”

  Trent’s cell phone chimed. Micah watched him dig it out of his jeans, shoot off a text, and then tuck it in his back pocket. “So… we probably can’t do too much more tonight, right?”

  Micah cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Well, now that I single handedly solved the world’s problems, we have a little time for a date, right?”

  There was much Micah wanted to discuss with Trent, but he knew Trent had one thing on his mind now and it wasn’t visions of fire. It was a brunette with a tight, white T-shirt and brown leather jacket on, standing next to Viola, waiting for them in front of the cafe. Micah glanced at Trent, astonished he could brush such a serious discovery under the rug, like it was no big deal.

  It’s just the end of the world.

  Gianna smiled up at Trent, her lips a startling shade of red.

  I guess with Trent, sometimes hormones win out.

  He, on the other hand, was still dwelling on what he needed to do, as they were directed to a free table in the corner. The café was packed with couples, enjoying the mist from the gurgling fountain in the middle of the room, and the serenading violins playing in the background.

  I should try to have fun, Micah thought, glancing over at Viola. Her eyes sparkled back at him in the dimly lit room. But he couldn’t forget Trent’s previous statement. I don’t know about construction—how am I going to do this? Micah knew summers spent dry walling hardly qualified him to build a golden, fireproof city. He became aware of Viola’s eyes, staring at him. Did I just tune her out again? I’m a terrible date.

  Micah blinked. Oh no, not now! But the vision remained.

  The woman in red was perched precariously on top of the Fiat as it darted through streets, passing crowds of people, all of them unaware of her presence.

  Micah watched her stand up straight, perfectly balanced on the moving vehicle. She threw her arms out, spreading them like she was about to take flight, her black hair whipping behind her. Her inky eyes scoured the streets as the buildings were replaced by trees. She hissed at the forests whipping past. He was enthralled by her, almost feeling the boiling rage within her. He wondered what was making her so upset, when flames burst across her body. The fire flamed out in all directions, licking her face, arms, and back. He’d never seen anything like it. She was consumed, but not consumed at the same time.

  “Micah?” Someone jostled his arm. He wanted to swat them away; it was distracting, making the woman in red hard to see. Then he realized it was Viola’s voice.

  Micah closed his eyes, trying to disguise how hard he was panting.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her tone worried, her hand still touching his arm.

  He glanced at her. “Yeah, sorry, guess I’m sleep deprived.” He wasn’t sure what he’d been doing or looked like during his vision.

  She raised one eyebrow. “Do you want to get out too?”

  Huh? Oh, the car’s stopped. The front seats were empty, Gianna and Trent already gone. Staring out his back window, he saw nothing but trees.

  “Where are we?”

  “A villa,” Viola explained as they climbed out of the car. Micah caught sight of Trent and Gianna disappearing from view into the trees. Bet he doesn’t want to be followed. Great, this should be fun, he thought, unenthused.

  Viola shivered and he glanced over. “Are you warm enough?”

  Her teeth chattered. “I am all right.”

  “It’s pretty cold out here,” Micah observed, as they began ambling through the large ilex trees. With so many trees close together, it formed a canopy overhead.

  Viola pulled her jacket tighter.

  An icy gust sent the trees shaking, rattling their gray brown branches, bouncing the holly leaves, and sending small acorns falling down on them. They crunched underfoot as they continued to walk aimlessly, his uneasiness growing with each step.

  Something’s not right. The air feels damp. He stopped short and faced Viola. I need to get her out of here. “Why don’t we go back to the car? It’s really cold and I know you’re freezing.”

  She started to protest but he grabbed her hand, redirecting their steps. She seemed to brighten at her hand in his. Once at the car, Micah opened the back door for her. She climbed in and gazed up, probably expecting him to follow in after her.

  Her smile faded when he leaned in and said, “I’ll be right back. Stay here and keep warm.”

  He shut the door before she could respond. His heart was thumping wildly as he sprinted back. Not caring about the grief Trent was going to give him, he yelled their names as he searched in the direction they’d walked off in.

  Panic flooded him. What if I can’t find them in time?

  Finally, he heard a growled, “Someone better be dying!”

  Relieved, Micah spied them emerging from the shadows, Gianna’s hair tousled, and Trent’s annoyance clearly written on his face.

  “Trent, we’ve got to go,” Micah said firmly.

  Gianna glanced at Micah’s expression. “What is wrong? Is Viola ok?”

  Another blast of wind hit them. This time Micah smelled something foul in the air.

  “Viola’s fine, she’s in the car,” Micah responded. “Let’s go.”

  Trent didn’t move as Gianna scurried away. Once she was no longer visible, he muttered, “Micah, what the cavolo—” but his voice died as his face contorted with terror.

  In that split second, Micah was sent hurtling down, smacking the ground with his chest. Gasping for air, he struggled to right himself, but there was no time. Something cold seized his calves, the pressure of the grip so severe, he gasped, inhaling dirt. Lying on his stomach, he tried to twist and kick free, but the captor’s hold felt like steel. Then they were flying across the ground, every branch, rock, and bump abusing Micah’s body as he was drug along. He felt like a ragdoll tied behind a horse—the speed felt inhuman. Straining to see behind him, Micah watched Trent grow smaller and smaller, sprinting after them.

  Micah tried to grab on to the ground, leaving both of his palms bleeding and raw. Realizing it was futile, Micah tried to shield his face from the rough terrain he was slicing through.

  His body ached, his skin burned, and he could hardly feel his legs anymore. I need a plan now! Straining to look over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his captor as they passed under a small clearing in the woods. Horror shot through him.

  The moonlight bounced off naked, black, scaly skin. The figure was lanky, hunched over, with a bony spine pushing against dry, leathery skin. The arms were long, ape-like, and twisted backwards to hold Micah’s legs. The torso of the thing was still facing forward as its massive legs propelled them deeper in to the woods. It turned its ugly head and glared at Micah. In the blackness, all he could make out were two beady, red eyes. He shuddered as the thing roared a wet, vicious laugh.

  “You are mine, Seer,” it spat out, abruptly stopping and shoving its ugly face into his. The words resonated from deep within its chest. Its breathing rattled and purred, like there was liquid in its lungs. Its blood-red eyes bore dow
n on him, glowing ominously.

  “Semjaza’s praise and glory be mine,” the beast growled.

  Micah’s mumbled an incoherent prayer. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. I will fear no evil—”

  A light pierced through the darkness, blinding him.

  The iron hands released him.

  Micah pulled his legs back, scrambling to his feet. Disoriented, he attempted to run, but found himself on the ground again.

  I can’t feel my legs!

  There was a crackle and a hiss as a wave of heat hit his body.

  “Run, Micah!” a female voice commanded.

  He jumped up again, relieved he could feel his feet beneath him. He wanted to see who had saved him, but he obeyed as he half-ran, half-stumbled.

  The female cried out, “How dare you cross the line! You shall pay for this! You and all the others in these woods!”

  The creature wailed as the heat behind him escalated, searing Micah’s backside. The cries turned to shrieks and Micah smelled a horrible stench of sulfur and rotten flesh. He pushed his legs harder, his muscles burning with exertion. He was no longer numb. The wave of heat was suffocating, leaving him feeling like he was literally on fire. Desperate to move faster, he didn’t see the rock jutting out of the ground and tripped, landing hard on his right knee. Unsure if he could stand, two hands reached under his arms and pulled him up.

  It was Trent. He threw Micah’s arm over his shoulder and they began sprinting back, with Trent swearing the whole way. Micah could see dirt and tear tracks down his face.

  They were almost out of the trees. That thing had carried him far. The heat from behind had subsided and they stopped for a moment to catch their breath. They bent over, wheezing.

  “Thanks,” Micah said between gulps of air.

  “What the cavolo was that thing?” Trent gasped, both hands on his knees.

  “I don’t know, but let’s get out of here.” Micah straightened. His knee throbbed, but the adrenaline was still surging.

  As they ran, Trent yelled, “How’d you get away?”