Reckoning
Page 52
Face hardening, he stepped ponderously forward, reaching out with his huge hand to right grab it, taking it from Gage's grip. In silence, he studied it.
Gage smiled.
"Just a piece," he nodded.
Kertzman met his gaze, then stared at the object again. And, carefully, he squeezed it with his right hand, feeling the cold steel tanto beneath the paper. And then he squeezed it again, harder, knowing the strength returning to his hand once more.
He nodded slowly, looked up.
"Good enough," he said.
*
EPILOGUE
Together they rested before the flames.
Gage held her in his arms, covering her against the high cold outside, the darkness that shrouded the cabin in the frozen north woods. Sarah laughed, touching his hand, watching the flames.
"I like this place," she said.
Gage smiled.
"Winter's a long time leavin', this high," he said. "But it's a good place to live. It's quiet. And peaceful."
She nodded, didn't say anything for a long time.
Before them, in front of the fireplace, lay a dry and yellowed manuscript, its pages open, warmed by the flames of the hearth.
Silence.
Gage knew she had read it, but somehow he felt a fear to ask about it. Even so, though, he felt himself staring at the book, heard his own question.
"You read it, didn't you?"
A pause.
"Yes."
He hesitated. "And was it there? Is there a name?"
She blinked, stared into the flames. "Yes."
His arms tightened around her. "Well, at least we've done them some damage," he added quietly. "That always counts for something."
"Yes," she replied, a half-smile. "We've done them some damage. And now he'll have to build a lot of it for himself. It won't be as easy for him."
Finally, after a heavy moment, Sarah leaned forward, arms wrapping around her knees. And her head was slightly tilted, saddened. Gage leaned forward also, staying close, and he saw her eyes studying the manuscript, the ancient lettering dark and wavering in the red glow of the fire. After a time she reached down, grabbing hold of it, slowly raising a handful of pages before her face. She seemed lost in thought and far away.
Looked back at him again.
Gage touched her hair, her face, as she spoke.
Her words were mournful, remembering. "So much suffering," she whispered. "You know, sometimes I think that eternity won't be long enough to forget what happened here." Her eyes searched him. "And then sometimes I think when all this is finally over, and we reach eternity, none of this will matter."
Gage saw the hurt, the fading white scar that still marked her face, and he knew the deepest scars left by her suffering would heal much slower, if they healed at all.
"I don’t have an answer, darlin'," he whispered and reached up to softly touch her face. "All I know is what we do and what we believe."
Sarah continued to gaze at him a moment, and then the faintest smile touched her lips, her eyes, also, smiling with the effort. Then she looked back to the fire, a strength shining through the softness, emerging, overcoming the gentleness, the sadness of her gaze.
And one by one she began feeding the pages into the flames.
*
Hand hard in strength, the man raised the hammer high, brought it down upon the glowing red steel with crushing force.
Heated in the coals until its purity was surrendered to the same holocaust that had forged it, the glowing steel had lost its temper, its strength.
Kertzman laughed, raised the hammer high once more in his strong right hand, his other hand holding the super-heated steel against the anvil. And the hammer descended once more, tearing red shreds from the ancient blade.
Again, and again.
And though the steel was strong, it could not endure and had slowly surrendered to hammer and anvil and flame, the strength of Kertzman’s right hand, and something more. And, finally, Kertzman knew he had broken it, had crushed its purity with blow after blow, destroying its soul.
A cold gray wind blew across the black hills and Kertzman turned to watch a slow South Dakota dawn.
Cold, refreshing wind.
Land, the wild.
He nodded, to himself.
Home.
Gazing down brutally, once more, at the blade, Kertzman knew at last that its purity, its beauty, was gone. And he remembered something he had read once, something about how men would take swords and beat them ... into plowshares ...
He waited, trying to remember, and thought for a moment that it was somewhere ... in the Bible.
A vast wind moved over Kertzman with the thought, and it meant something to him. And he wondered about it. And as he wondered he turned his head to look across the cloud-gray horizon, vast and deep and old with wind.
He stood for a moment, searching.
Maybe somewhere ... in the Old Testament.
And then he nodded, yes, maybe somewhere in the Old Testament.
With a grunt Kertzman tossed the glowing red steel into the water, laughing as it hissed in anger, utterly destroyed. And he turned massively toward the house.
Thought he might look it up.
*
Acknowledgments
A sincere thanks is extended to Jim Hammond of Jim Hammond Knives in Arab, Alabama, for his invaluable contributions in knife-fighting techniques used by Delta Force and Naval SEAL commandos. And I thank him for allowing me to use his specialized fighting knife termed "FleshEater," a weapon designed for and used extensively in America's military counterterrorist units, as the prototype for the weapon referred to as "Dragon" in the novel.
I also offer my sincere thanks to Steve Miller whose outstanding editorial judgment I have always held in the highest respect.
In research, I can estimate that I utilized almost one hundred separate sources of study. However, for the sake of sheer expediency, I will only refer to those that I feel a particular debt.
For factual and psychological insights into modern conflict I relied heavily upon The Art of War by Baron Jomini, The Art of War by Sun Tzu, and particularly upon On War by Carl von Clausewitz. I also found great use for the factual history of the American intelligence community detailed in The CIA and the Cult of Intelligence by Victor Marchetti and John D. Marks. And I found Intellectuals by Paul Johnson and On Being a Christian by Hans Kung to be extremely enlightening; I relied extensively upon both works to understand the often-contradictory modern mind.
Lastly, all military tactics, equipment, and physical methods utilized by the novel's characters are taken as cleanly as possible from current military manuals issued to Special Forces personnel by the United States Government. I remain grateful for the extensive technical assistance, and freely accept any errors as my own.
James Byron Huggins emerged from the cobwebs of Alabama in 1993 and literally stunned both the American East Coast and West Coast with multiple million-dollar movie and book deals to create some of the most admired story lines and characters in recent fiction.
After creating his allegorical first novel, “A Wolf Story,” Huggins switched to the counterintelligence genre with the ground-breaking, “The Reckoning.” Long hailed as the first true thriller with the backdrop of a profoundly religious plot, “The Reckoning” remains a favorite of actions fans. Then Huggins wrote “Leviathan” – the story of a Komodo Dragon transformed into the biblical Leviathan and the havoc it wreaks upon those who must destroy it before it destroys the world.
Million dollar deals were immediately signed for “Cain,” and “Hunter,” before Huggins could even finish the books and overseas rights were sold before the novels were even released in the United States. Even now Huggins remains one of the most sought-after action screen writers in Hollywood.
Raised in a small Alabama town Huggins grew up to become involved in fantastic adventures that took him to the far side of the world and so very far from his beginnings. After spen
ding several years in Europe smuggling people and materials in and out of the Iron Curtain to assist those suffering religious and political persecution in nations doomed to war, Huggins became a decorated police officer in Huntsville, Ala. But he resigned from police work in 1993 after publication of his first novel.
Huggins continues to write and to speak and frequently holds writing seminars for libraries, book clubs, colleges, high schools and churches. Anyone wishing to have Huggins visit your group or edit your work before publication or theatrical production need only contact him through this site.
Table of Contents
Copyright
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
About the author