by Glen Kenner
Zain stops and opens another beer. He looks up at Sarah and we wait for more information to follow. More damning proof that this prophecy is the real deal. But he drinks from his beer and doesn’t say anything more.
Sarah stands up, steps back and begins to pace. She stops.
-Am I the first female First?
Zain and I both say yes at the same time.
-How do you know?
I glance at Zain and Alvaro and we all sort of shrug at the same time. Zain answers.
-We can’t be one hundred percent sure, but there are no histories or even rumors of a female First in our known history, which dates back eleven thousand years. In order for another female First to have existed before you, she would have to have survived First Death and then presumably die before any other Firsts detected her or even learned of her. Or she’s still alive, but again, no one has detected her or knows that she exists.
Sarah is pacing but stops again.
-Let’s say that there haven’t been any other female Firsts. The prophecy doesn’t say that the first female First will kill The Father and her brothers. Just that a female First will do so. Right?
Zain nods.
-Correct. But of all of the Firsts to have lived, probably ten to twenty thousand or more, you are the only female. Presumably. The odds of another female First were zero before you survived First Death. Those odds are now only a very tiny bit better that another girl will survive and become a First.
-But it happened with me. It can happen again. Maybe it will be in another eleven thousand years. In other words, even if the prophecy is true, which seems unlikely because modern science has disproved such a thing based on dreams and visions and the voice of God and especially entrails, for crying out loud, but even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean it’s me.
The boy says oh, oh, and raises his hand. I think he’s imitating that kid from the 70s sitcom. Welcome Back somebody. Not sure.
-Maybe, the First from the prophecy is born a boy and survives First Death as a boy but then has gender reassignment surgery to become a woman because she’s transgender and then later she kills The Father and you other guys-
He suddenly grimaces.
-Sorry, I mean, the other… uh, the Firsts. Her brothers. From the prophecy.
Sarah tells him it’s ok. They understand. Grimace turns to embarrassment to a deep blush.
I try to get everyone’s attention.
-Look. Sarah makes some great points. And maybe Joram is right. Stranger things have happened. I just want to make sure that the two of you…
I pause and look at both Zain and Alvaro, back and forth, meeting their eyes.
-...the two of you only share the story of this prophecy in an unbiased way. In the proper context. In fact, I think you need to add in Sarah’s points as a disclaimer so that-
Fuck. Just like that I’ve made them angry.
Zain’s voice is louder than at any time today and Alvaro is speaking to him and then to me and back and forth rapidly.
-John, that’s advice you don’t need to give! And it’s insulting that you would. Alvaro-
He takes the other man’s hand into his own.
-My senior, mentor, and friend, has been a History Keeper for nearly four thousand years! Some Firsts say he is the best History Keeper ever, after Nisa of Ba!
-Look-
-You came to us for knowledge. We arranged for your safe passage here, have shared food and drink with you, and you insult us, you insult all History Keepers, by telling us how to do our life’s work!
-Hey, let’s not lay it on so thick. I’m not insulting anyone. I just wanted-
-You just want your version of twenty-two histories to be shared. That’s what you want. That’s not going to happen!
And now I’m angry. Fuck. I don’t control my temper as well as these two do. But I need to try.
-It’s not about what I want, Zain. Alvaro. It’s about what I don’t want. I don’t want someone like Kingsley walking out of here believing that the prophecy is about Sarah and she’s coming for him.
I look at her and she’s got a mix of confusion and concern on her face. Time to stop hiding everything from her.
-Kingsley, and other powerful Firsts like him, don’t take chances. They hear about someone coming after them? They move first. And they have the resources to- to- fuck!
Alvaro begins shouting at me in Arabic and Zain joins in in English.
-We don’t get involved in politics! We never have. Do you understand? We keep the history. That’s it. We’re not responsible for what others do with the history!
He jumps up and gets within a foot of my face.
-We are not responsible!
Sarah moves between us even as the last sound is leaving his mouth. She looks me in the eyes and takes my hands into hers.
-John, let’s walk away from this. Alright? We just walk away. The prophecy isn’t true. It’s not me even if it is. Alright? John? Tell me alright.
I keep hold of her hands but take a step right and face Zain.
-I’m sorry for what I said. I apologize to you and Alvaro.
I say this through mostly clenched teeth. If this were a hundred years ago. Or even today without Sarah here…
-I’m worried about Sarah’s well-being. I hope you can understand.
I step back and face Sarah and tell her alright, it’s alright.
Zain and Alvaro sit back down and then Sarah and I do the same. The boy never got up, though his eyes are wide and his body looks tense as if he is ready to bolt from the room. The old man is still asleep. Fucker.
Alvaro says something to the boy and he jumps up and runs out of the room.
Zain says that the boy will call for our driver to come in the early morning. We have talked far longer than any of us expected and we won’t be able to make our scheduled flight out of Tel Aviv. But Joram has our flight information and will change our flights for the first thing in the morning.
I don’t say anything but Sarah breaks the silence and thanks Zain and Alvaro. They nod their heads to her without a reply.
-Do you have any stories you can tell us about John? Any that, you know, are funny or silly? Something to lighten the mood?
She laughs but stops when no one else joins in.
Alvaro begins speaking and Zain again translates, just a few words behind him.
-John came to us once. Before the cave. He spoke with the first History Keeper, Nisa of Ba.
Sarah lights up.
-Hey, we forgot. You’re supposed to tell John how long he was in the cave.
Zain smiles at her politely.
-You’re right. And so we will.
Alvaro starts talking again and Zain translates.
-John, you came to see Nisa of Ba the first year he was a History Keeper. He invented the role, you know. It was 9002 BC.
Sarah turns to look at me and mouths 11,000 years ago! I’m doing the simple math in my head over and over. That can’t be right.
-You sat down with Nisa of Ba, in a small tent, somewhere south of here. Across the Red Sea. Egypt probably. Maybe Sudan. You simply wanted to know everything about the northern lands in what is now Europe. You had traveled alone and with tribes throughout the Middle East, parts of Asia and India all the way to the coast. To what is now Korea. You may have traveled north through modern eastern Russia and crossed the Bering Strait into modern-day Alaska and gone south along the coast of British Columbia and Washington State and Oregon. We’re not sure. It’s physically possible but you weren’t clear enough on the details for any History Keeper to verify it. Presumably you wouldn’t have known you had crossed from one continent to another. You definitely had extensively traveled Africa, from north to south and east to west. You had even come up through southern Europe. You were bored, you told Nisa of Ba. You wanted to go somewhere exotic. Your words. Exotic lands, exotic food, exotic women. Especially exotic women.
-Doesn’t sound like me at all.
Only Joram l
aughs.
-Ah, yes, regardless. Then, just like now, Nisa of Ba asked you first for a story. It was just one history for one history at that time. You told him of a battle you had been in north of here. Somewhere that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it never had a name. You didn’t know the name, anyway. Probably on the plains of Georgia. Or in Russia. You were caught up in the battle, conscripted like most men at that time. You could have fought your way out but you didn’t. They gave you a wooden spear and a wooden shield and yet you were the only man left standing on your side. Not uncommon for small battles involving a First. But what was significant about this battle is it is the only time that a story has included an army fighting alongside a Second. You knew what she was, that she was a Second, and as soon as you saw her from across the field you tried to get as close as possible without catching her attention. You said… your exact words were…
Alvaro looks up at the ceiling with a deep look of concentration on his face.
She had no weapons but her hands and when she grabbed a man, he died where he stood, and she moved on. She was Death.
-Your side lost, of course, as I said. You ran and told Nisa of Ba that you knew you were lucky that the Second did not follow you. She would certainly have caught you and killed you as well.
Sarah and I both slowly say fuck. The boy simply says cool.
-Nisa of Ba then told you what he knew, which was very little, about the northern lands. That the people were fair skinned, some with yellow hair and blue eyes, and there were creatures there twice the size of our camels and even bigger than the elephants in Africa and India. They lands didn’t have names to us then, but we’re fairly certain you both were speaking of Finland, Sweden, and Norway. We didn’t know how far north Eurasia extended. Nor did we know about Iceland or Greenland. For the record, there are no histories of you in the northern lands until after you were in Kish. Long after. Your visit to Nisa of Ba is the last history we have before you show up in a history of the travels of your friend Naram-sin, who by the way, visited your village just a few years after your… after you left. It was mostly empty. Abandoned. The few people still there were afraid to talk about you. But Naram-sin put the story together and it matches very closely to what you told us today. But enough about that. As for how you got into the cave, the History Keepers don’t know. Personally, I always assumed that you made your way north from the eastern coast of Africa into Turkey on your way to the northern lands, too far west of course, and simply stumbled and fell through a crevice into the cavern below. The cave we think was near Adiyaman or Palanli or Samat. Those areas are near the Euphrates and have caves and caverns everywhere. It would also explain how you ended up in relatively nearby Kish when you escaped.
Simply stumbled and fell. He says it like I was skipping along chasing butterflies. Fucker.
-So, wait, if I visited a History Keeper-
-Nisa of Ba.
-If I visited Nisa of Ba in 9002 BC and then somehow, we don’t know how, but somehow wound up in the cave soon after, I was in that cave for…
-Six thousand years.
Joram says this in his matter-of-fact voice.
-Give or take a few hundred.
-Six thousand years! That’s impossible! How?
Zain and Alvaro shrug.
-You’re an ancient First. One of the earliest, maybe born just a few thousand years after The Father, if our histories are correct. And they almost always are. In fact, although we have histories of other Firsts born long before 9002 BC, none are still alive and haven’t been for thousands of years. They were all dead from injuries or Second Death before you even emerged from the cave. You could be the second oldest First in the world, behind only The Father himself.
Alvaro says something and Zain translates.
-During your time in the cave, John, civilization changed greatly. You missed the beginnings of cities and kingdoms. Farming and livestock. Writing, of course. Even the wheel. The world passed you by during those six thousand years. Had you been above ground, today your name and adventures would be tied to mythological legends like the ancient Sumerian kings, a few of whom were Firsts. Perhaps even the Talmud and Bible, like Methuselah and Jared and Noah and few others. But there are no legends of you, John Smith. None at all.
None at all, I think. None at all. None. Except there are legends of me, but as a butchering murderer. The Eater of Hearts. A traitor. As Brutus, when I stabbed to death my friend Gaius. So many fucking others. But there are no legends about a man who runs gangs out of his neighborhood and fixes his neighbors’ plumbing for dinner or a six pack. Goddamnit. Six thousand years in a cave.
When the fuck will I die?
12 - When In Roman Africa
Everyone has stood up to stretch, to use the bathroom, to find a reason not to talk to me. But Sarah comes back into the room and sits down next to me and holds my hand.
-You’ve had quite a life. You’ve done a lot of amazing things. A lot of good things. I bet your neighbors love you.
-Sure. I’m so damn lovable.
-You are! I’d like to meet your neighbors sometime. Maybe when we get back? Dinner at your place? Walk the neighborhood a bit, tell me some of your stories of the last hundred years. Show me where the real John Smith has lived. Yeah?
-You want to know about John Smith? John Smith from the time I took the name seven hundred years ago? Or John Smith since I’ve lived a life of false-
-I want to know about you. The you I know. The you right here in front of me. The you that dragged me halfway around the world to protect me.
I say nothing. What do I say?
-Dinner at your place when we get back? And a tour around the neighborhood? I bet your neighbors have great stories about you. I want to hear them. And you need to hear them!
She punches me in the shoulder and I smile and nod but look down at the floor in front of me. Six thousand years.
-What’s this symbol?
She points to a spot on the rough concrete floor in front of my cushion, a spot where I must have been unconsciously scratching an image that has been in my mind since the days of the dark place. A circle with two lines inside of it - a horizontal line running through the middle of the circle from edge to edge with a small vertical line intersecting the longer one in the middle. I use all five fingernails on my right hand to scratch away the symbol. I’ve found myself scratching it or tracing it or drawing it over the thousands of years since my memories began and I have no idea what it means but I do know that it has a calming effect for me. It somehow, for some reason, makes me feel safe, I think. I’ve never seen it anywhere except in front of me after I’ve subconsciously drawn it. Another mystery about my life before the dark place that can never be answered.
-It’s nothing, Sarah. Just doodling, I guess, to help me concentrate.
She starts to say something but stops and looks up.
Zain and Alvaro come back in through the curtain and then the boy. Zain is humming Stairway to Heaven and plays the air guitar for me when he sees me look up. He seems like a good guy. Not like fucking Alvaro.
Alvaro locks his eyes on mine, smiles, and begins speaking again. Zain starts to translate.
-I saw you from a distance in 205 AD. Do you remember where you were in 205?
I think for a minute.
-205. AD. Africa?
-Yes! You remember! Specifically, Leptis Magna. Now Al Khums, Libya.
-I remember Leptis Magna. I was kicked out of the city. I don’t remember why.
Zain lets out a long ah and both he and Alvaro laugh.
Shit, I don’t trust that they’re laughing. I remember so much about the dark place but nothing about Leptis Magna. The dark place comes to me in a dream almost every night. But Leptis Magna? What did I forget? They’re trying to make me look like an idiot in front of Sarah after the blowup and they’re doing a excellent fucking job.
Sarah leans forward
-A funny story? About John! Finally!
-You were
with Emperor Septimius Severus then. I’m sure you remember that.
It’s coming back to me. I hated that asshole.
-You were a bodyguard for him and the royal family. But you were famous for your fighting skills. The people of Leptis Magna knew your reputation before you ever entered the city. You were more famous than the emperor himself, and he was from Leptis Magna!
It’s coming back... Little by little. What did I do? I pissed off that idiot Septimius somehow. Alvaro keeps talking and Zain translates.
-I was in the seats of the small amphitheater. The crowd was excited, chanting your name. I was on one of my travels and knew your name. That is, the name you used then, Brutus. Nothing else. Just Brutus. Why, I’ve always been curious, John, why did you continue to use the name Brutus?
-Continue?
-Yes, continue. You were Marcus Junius Brutus Minor. We know this.
-You know that?
-Yes. So why did you continue to use Brutus two hundred and fifty years later in Africa?
-I just liked the sound of it.
He and Alvaro and even the boy laugh. Sarah looks confused and I tell her I’ll explain later.
Alvaro and Zain both take a drink and then start back up.
-The huge wooden doors leading into the arena opened and then the gate was lifted and out of the shadows you walked. The crowd was in a frenzy shouting your name. Brutus! Brutus! You carried a short sword but no shield. You spun around in a circle with your arms held up, inciting the crowd to cheer louder and louder. Then the horn blast came and everyone instantly became quiet. You turned to the dark entrance and out came three hyenas. They were so fast. They worked as a team, one going wide and coming at you on your left, one doing the same on your right and the third pausing and then charging you straight on. You stood there for what seemed an eternity and then threw your sword at the animal charging you head on. The sword entered it’s thick neck right behind it’s head and it yelped and tumbled to a stop. A second later, the other two beasts attacked from either side of you. One leapt high at your head, the other charged at your legs. You sort of bent your knees and I remember thinking you were going to be dead in just a few seconds. But you reached under the heads of both oncoming animals and caught them by the throats and held them with your arms locked straight out. You must have crushed their windpipes because their jaws stopped snapping and their legs stopped kicking and their bodies went limp. The crowd was on their feet screaming your name! I had never seen anything like it. I had never even heard of anything like it.
