by James, Aiden
“We should forget about him,” she said, resolutely, her tone solemn. “For now.”
“What became of him? I mean… how did we escape this time?”
I needed to know. And, as far as the experience of reliving Jesus’ last day and a half as a mortal man, I decided not to allow myself the horror of going through it any further than I already had. Some things are better left forgotten, or at least kept far away from the forefront of our awareness. The Passion Play, which I had a hand in creating, needed to remain the watered down version embraced by millions. For me there wasn’t a choice, unless I wanted to be a permanent liability to those I loved. Especially true if Kaslow presumably was still on the loose.
“You forget we’ve had your ‘the Italians killed Jesus’ debate before, Judas,” Roderick chided, cheerfully. “Just as you’ve changed over the years, so can anyone else. But to answer your spoken question…. Your blood coins ignited Kaslow’s hands, and he threw the glowing shekels back at you. It didn’t prevent the flames from climbing his arms. One of the larger demons rescued him, and we watched the horde fly into a wormhole in the early morning sky, similar to the escape route he used in Bolivia. You had lost consciousness, and Beatrice and I focused on saving you while the others kept an eye out for Kaslow’s return.”
“We were so worried, my love.” Beatrice wrapped her arm inside mine, scooting closer. “But we couldn’t stay there and wait for you to wake up.”
“Or go back inside that hellhole,” added Amy.
“But we still weren’t out of the woods, man,” said Cedric, pausing to take a longer drag from his slim cigar. “The jokers who brought us to the castle in the first place… what were their names?”
“Arso, Jevrem, and Gajo,” I said. “Sounds like three thoroughbreds running at Preakness.”
“Not any I’d ever bet on.” He joined me in chuckling for a moment. “They pursued us down the mountain in another Mercedes. I’ve gotta give props to Roderick for keeping us on the road while those assholes tried to shoot out the tires. They didn’t make it through one of the tighter curves as we neared the main highway. Otherwise….”
He didn’t finish. Nor did he need to, as I glimpsed what he saw earlier that day, where gunfire just missed the tires and did a number on the trunk and fender. Good thing this wasn’t the rental we had to return. Which inspired more questions.
“Save your strength, William,” said Roderick. “We’ll rest up when we return to the Esplanade in Berlin. Our flight’s been changed to nine-forty tonight.”
“Why the urgency to get out of here this evening?” I asked, unable to sort through everyone’s random thoughts for a clear answer. In truth, my unfamiliarity with reading thought streams had given me a slight headache. Yes, I know… it would pass in a moment. But irritation at the prospect of this experience being much worse—especially in a busy airport—was enough for me to try Roderick’s advice on how to shut it down. “Kaslow is likely to avoid us for awhile, I imagine, after nearly becoming barbeque, and… and, where are the coins?”
Sudden panic at not knowing the coins’ whereabouts deepened when I found my pockets were empty, other than my wallet. The Dragon Coin’s steady hum was barely audible, so I left the wallet alone.
“Cedric has one and I’ve got the other,” Roderick advised. “After what happened back there, it makes sense to not have these particular coins kept in one place.”
“True.” Relieved, I began to relax. But something nagged at my mind. Something about security of the other coins in Sedona, Arizona.
“Aren’t we going to tell Pops the latest news about Krontos?” Alistair asked.
I felt him lean closer to Beatrice and me, and heard the thoughts feeding his anxiety. It was profound worry about the other coins. Why? …Then I saw the image in his head, which matched another in Beatrice’s. Two views of the same event.
“Krontos might’ve escaped,” said Roderick. “Impossible to know for sure, but it does seem likely.”
“Hell, man, there ain’t no denying the guy we saw herding sheep near the Czech Republic’s border was him,” Cedric insisted. “Dude was a dead ringer, and we all saw the way he looked at us, right?”
“Like he knew us,” Alistair agreed. “Little guy with white hair and that same annoying smile. If it wasn’t him, somewhere down the line these two guys are related. I guarantee it.”
“Probably inbred,” said Cedric.
Amy and Beatrice added their agreement, and I now understood the urgency of leaving Berlin and Europe that night. I also saw what everyone had witnessed in the late morning fog as the Mercedes prepared to cross the Czech/German border. The wee shepherd moving sheep across the road caused the car to stop and wait until all the animals had safely crossed the highway. He eyed the vehicle’s occupants slyly, as if he wanted them to notice him. Once they did, he smiled broadly, nodded slightly, and moved to the other side of the road while never taking his eyes off the car.
As Roderick sought to put as much distance between the little man and us, before he disappeared from view, the shepherd nodded his head in exaggerated movements. As if to say, “I’m back!”
No one talked about it, out of fear of Krontos’ possible revenge—if it was him. And, if it wasn’t? They worried anyway.
“So, now you know,” said Roderick. “We’ll head back to the States, grab your coins, and search for someplace new to live.”
“Sounds perfectly lovely…. Here we go again, huh?” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Am I to assume Krontos shifted into one of his alternate existences, then? Taking over the poor shepherd’s life and leaving the poor sot to burn in his stead forever? Nice guy. Truly.”
It was one of those moments where you had to laugh to keep from crying. Would there never be an end to this shit?
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Roderick. “We need to assume this is the case, while hoping it isn’t. But if it is? Then we will have much bigger—and meaner—fish to fry than just Viktor Kaslow. So, we have much to discuss on the flight back to America.”
Indeed. Perhaps the right perspective would be to count the blessings I did have, instead of worrying about what could go wrong. After all, it was out of our hands, one way or another. Besides, in the end, things might turn out better than feared.
I had my beloved family and friends. I had my destiny. Despite not knowing how much time I had left to appreciate them both, I had that day to cherish the one and to reflect upon the other.
I smiled at Beatrice, pulling her closer. Her eyes were on fire and her countenance aglow. My heart felt as if it would burst from devotion, watching her. She snuggled against my chest until her eyes closed.
Protection and comfort, we both needed it.
We all needed it.
It’s what I sent as a silent prayer to The Almighty. May His mercy prevail, and may freedom from tyranny be our miracle.
The End
The Judas Chronicles will return in the fall of 2014.
Available now:
Cades Cove: The Curse of Allie Mae
The Cades Cove Series, Book One
(Please read on for a sample)
Chapter One
“Yep… I believe this must be it!” David Hobbs motioned for Miriam, his wife, to join him on a rock ledge overlooking a secluded ravine, roughly a mile’s hike from John Oliver’s famous homestead in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. He smiled impishly, like a kid with a dirty secret.
It’s here… right where Ned said it would be!
“Are you sure?” Miriam panted as she caught up to him. Her irritated tone clearly announced the desire to end this unexpected adventure off the beaten path.
“Will you just look at this place!” he enthused, trying to ignore her perturbed glare. “Welcome to the Smokies’ oldest ‘Lovers Lane’, darlin’!”
He tipped the bill of his Rockies ball cap toward the view. A lush carpet of grass covered the ravine, and colorful wildflowers lay nestled in the shade from tall eastern p
ines and hardwoods.
She glanced down into the ravine and smirked.
“I guess it’s nice,” she said, lacking enthusiasm. “The horseback ride we planned last night would’ve been better.” She removed her backpack, let it fall to the ground, and sat on a large rock nearby. Her agitated sky-blue eyes peered at him through long, dark hair while she massaged her tired legs and ankles.
“I thought you wanted romantic,” David retorted, smiling, though finding it harder to hide the growing irritation. He had carefully maneuvered their venture to this remote destination, hoping for a new way to sweep her off her feet. “How much more romantic can it get than being here, in this beautiful place, and on a day like this?”
The weather was perfect for October, and the temperature hovered in the mid-sixties with a clear sky above. He winked at her, and she giggled.
“You see? There’s my girl!” Still carrying his backpack, he moved over to hers and picked it up, motioning for her to follow. His knees felt weak. It reminded him of when they first dated, back in college. “Let’s have a look around.”
He stepped down from the ledge into heavy brush, wading toward the heart of the ravine. From the looks of things, no one had been there in quite awhile. A feeling of serenity surrounded him. Immersed in waist-high grass and thistles, he tried not to think about what might be slithering along the ground near his feet.
“Aren’t you afraid of being bitten by a snake or something?” Miriam called after him. “The park ranger back at the Cable Mill said timber rattlesnakes and copperheads are out here!”
David ignored her, and muttered a quiet prayer the snakes had already gone into hibernation. Meanwhile, Miriam’s hushed curses echoed lightly across the ravine as she scurried along the path he’d created.
“Now isn’t this something?” he said, once she caught up to him.
Thick wildflowers were in abundance, and his hunch about the snakes seemed correct so far. Relieved, he thought the out-of-the-way locale mentioned by his boss, Ned Badgett, might be worth the trouble after all.
Majestic oaks, chestnuts, and maples grew along both embankments, and the rutted earth beneath his feet hinted that a stream once coursed through there. The leaves had begun their seasonal change, offering a brilliant sea of red and orange amid towering evergreens. Wild roses, geraniums, and orange jewelweed added even more splendor.
“Yes it is,” she conceded, grinning while she looked around.
David wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. His trimmed blonde beard brushed against her cheek as she reached up and kissed him.
“Sorry I was a bitch.”
“It’s all right, baby.” His hazel eyes twinkled, mischievous. “I’ll let you make it up to me after lunch!”
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that!”
She playfully jabbed him in the side, and he feigned injury. He moved across the ravine to a large oak, where he set the backpacks down.
“Did you notice the markings on all of the trees?” he asked, when he returned.
A multitude of scrawled names covered the tree trunks. Carved hearts enclosed most of them. It sort of reminded him of a guestbook, like a giant version of the one they signed when they picked up the keys for their rented chalet in Gatlinburg the night before. Ned told him the ravine was the spot most frequented by the area’s young lovers during the late 1800s, and into the early1900s.
“This is really something,” marveled Miriam. She scanned the list of names. “Didn’t you say there’s supposed to be like a thousand names here?”
...Mary Ellen + Joshua, Milton + Anna, Shannon + Edmond...
“That’s what Ned told me,” he said, while studying the names cut into the nearest tree. “He called it the home of Cades Cove’s star-crossed lovers. Apparently, his ancestors once lived around here, before everyone moved out in the 1930s.”
...Johnny Lee + Pauline, Samuel + Bertha, Thelma Lyn + Adam...
“Well, that’s interesting. Here’s one with a date,” she said, pointing to one of the more faint inscriptions. Walter Smith + Marylee Oliver, June 13, 1908. “I wonder if there are any more like it.”
David glanced around the ravine. A yellow poplar caught his attention. Harold Potts + Samantha Pope, September 14, 1932.
“I’ll bet we can find some older names back in there,” he said, pointing past the former streambed to a heavily wooded area.
“Maybe later,” she replied. “My stomach’s growling, and I’m starting to feel a little weak.”
“I guess it can wait,” he said. He noticed her smile had faded. It continued to die, morphing into a worried frown. It was like the place suddenly creeped her out. He gently grasped her hand to lead her back across the ravine. “In the meantime, I’ve got something special planned for lunch.”
Determined to see his amorous plans through to completion, David offered an assuring smile once they reached the shade of the large oak. So far, Ned had been right about this place, thank God. The secluded ravine from years past seemed like the perfect spot to rekindle their passion. Their marriage of fifteen years stood on solid ground, but over the past few years, intimacy had waned. For him, the shortage of steady sex finally opened his eyes to what she truly needed. She needed sincere affection, where their daily emotional and physical contact didn’t always mean intercourse lingered on the horizon.
He removed the contents of his backpack, laying out a large picnic blanket next to the oak tree’s base. He was pleased by her surprise, when he produced two elegant place settings. Cold, fried chicken from a local deli was the main entrée, easiest for him to pack and serve. But, to ensure she appreciated the romantic intent, he brought a bowled candle to light along with two crystal wineglasses and a bottle of expensive chardonnay, her preference for special occasions. With everything arranged to his pleasure, he asked her to join him on the blanket.
“Well, this is really nice!” she enthused, smiling as she sat down.
“To our fifteenth fantastic year together, my love!” he said, pouring the wine and handing her one of the glasses. They tapped the glasses together, and the pitch resounded throughout the ravine. A gentle breeze moved among the trees.
“Well, how about that?” Her smile widened as she watched the wind’s spreading caress enfold the ravine. “Maybe it’s a good sign, like the next fifteen years will be even better.”
“Maybe so. I’d love that,” he agreed, liking her mood. He lifted his glass towards hers again, and they clinked softer this time.
Afterward, they snuggled close, lying on the blanket. As they discussed how to spend the rest of their afternoon, David noticed something faint carved upon the oak’s trunk and got up to investigate. Unlike the other carved names they had seen, this solitary inscription was cruder—like whoever made it did so in haste.
“What does it say?” She came up next to him for a closer look.
The bark had curled around the edges of the wound inflicted long ago, forming an imperfect heart shape. Carved inside was the name ‘Allie’, and below it was either a ‘+’ or a ‘T’—difficult to say which. They mouthed the name together, glancing at each other before looking at it again.
“It looks like someone got stood up,” he dryly observed.
“Or, maybe she changed her mind before it was too late… and, she didn’t let the boy carve his name inside the heart,” said Miriam, her tone sad.
David snickered.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s just wishful thinking she wasn’t spurned by whoever her beau was,” she added, chuckling for a moment.
As David looked past the oak to the ravine’s streambed, an idea occurred to him, and he moved to his backpack.
“What are you looking for, hon?”
“This is such a great spot… the perfect location for my new zoom lens,” he said. He pulled the Nikon camera from its case. “I need you to move back to where we were earlier, so I can take your picture.”
At first she protested, but she agreed to pose where th
e wildflowers grew most abundantly. He stepped under the ledge at the mouth of the ravine and kneeled, positioning the camera to also catch the treetops. He prepared to snap the picture, and then hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Miriam frowned.
“It’s not the right angle—hang on a moment.” He climbed onto the ledge and aimed the camera, but wavered again. He frowned.
“I guess I’m too ugly, huh?” she deadpanned. “I’d hate to break your precious lens.”
“Very funny.”
He scanned the area, and his gaze was drawn to the oak again. It seemed bigger as it loomed above the picnic blanket. Nonetheless, he grinned and ran to the tree, nearly sliding back down the embankment when he reached it.
“Now where are you going?”
“Up here.” He started climbing the tree. “I’ve found what I’m looking for, but you’ll need to back up just a bit.”
“David, don’t do it.” Her faint smile disappeared as she stepped toward him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this!”
“It’ll be all right.”
He stopped climbing fifteen feet above the embankment, and he straddled two large branches. He started to bring up the camera, but still wasn’t satisfied. Tentatively, he ventured onto a smaller branch above the ravine’s basin.
“David, you’re really scaring me! Just leave it alone! I’m scared to death you’re going to fall and break your neck!” Her voice cracked.
“I’ll be okay—just relax!” The branch creaked beneath his weight. “I’ve got to get this shot, and I’m almost there.”
He leaned toward her and positioned the camera to his eye. A perfect shot. If only she didn’t look so damned worried.
“Smile, baby!”
A sudden, strong gust distracted him, and he placed more weight on the branch. It cracked loudly and splintered.
