Chapter Three: The Exodus
The trip to the Anatolian border took nearly three months, the group stopping at roadside markets in Lebanon and Syria to replenish his parent’s food supplies. When in town they stopped at local inns to bathe and refresh themselves. Informed of this fact early in the trip by his father, Jesus and his consort found that even vampires, regardless of fastidiousness in the taking of victims, were in need of a bath occasionally.
During that time, the couple learned more about their undead natures, finding they could fast for a night or two when their form of food was not readily available, or could even substitute blood from lower forms of life if necessary. Both found such animal fare unappetizing, but it did fill the certain void they felt when pangs of hunger came calling. In these lean times along the desolate Roman highway, they had no other choice available. In their wake, they had left several auroch, ox, boar, and deer carcasses littering the road, drained of blood, bloating and rotting in the sun during the day.
The New Year arrived, 34 of the Common Era coming uneventfully for the travelers while passing through southwestern Syria. A few weeks later they arrived at a large city named Antioch during the evening. The capitol of the eastern part of the Roman Empire, like Rome, Antioch was a city that never slept, inns, taverns, and brothels open all night long. A modern city by the standards of the day, Antioch was a beautiful place, with gleaming marble buildings, ornate fountains, a central forum or marketplace, and was surrounded by thick groves of cypress trees.
“So this is the big city,” Joseph observed, watching shivering patrons standing in line outside a brothel on the cool night, “If you ask me they can keep it.”
“I agree with you,” said Jesus, “I usually prefer the country and small towns too.”
“Hunting will be much better here,” a famished Magdalene spoke up.
“We won’t be here long woman, but I suppose it would be a good idea to take a breather at an inn and get a bite to eat.”
Joseph smiled, amused at the euphemisms his son used to describe cold-blooded murder.
Stopping at an inn, Jesus walked to the office and rented two spacious rooms for the group. “I want the rooms for two days, leaving on the evening after tomorrow.”
“Certainly,” the innkeeper replied, “Breakfast is at seven, dinner at six, you buy lunch elsewhere.”
“I find my own food,” said Jesus with a slight smile, “But my parents will be happy to know hot meals are available.”
“Suit yourself,” said the innkeeper as Jesus handed him money. He pointed to their transportation and added, “You’ll have to stable your horses and wagon across the street.”
“No problem, incidentally sir, can they give the horses a comb and feed?”
“Sure, it’s five sestertii per horse.”
“Thank you,” said Jesus, returning to the wagon. “I’ve rented rooms, numbers sixteen and seventeen,” he announced to the weary group. Handing his consort the keys, he climbed in the seat and added, “Mary, please take mother and father to their room; I’ll unload the wagon.”
“I’ll carry Joseph’s satchel and tools,” the Magdalene replied, lifting them from the rear with ease and closing the door, Joseph watching in amazement.
“By all means, thanks,” said Jesus, taking the reins and driving the wagon to the stable.
“Ten sestertii to park for a day, take the rig to stall six,” the stable manager barked as Jesus entered.
“I’m staying for two; I want the horses fed and groomed too.”
“That’ll cost you twenty-five.”
Jesus pulled coins from a leather pouch tied at his waist, handing him twenty-five orichalcum sestertii coins, obverses bearing the likeness of Tiberius, reverses bearing fasces and the abbreviation ‘SC’. Nodding to the manager, he moved the carriage to a stall marked with the Roman numerals VI. Stepping down, he called a stable hand.
“Unhitch these beasts, comb and feed them,” Jesus ordered a muscular, bronzed Syrian slave.
“Yes sir,” answered the slave, tending the tired horses.
“These are fine animals sir, swift Arabian geldings,” the slave observed, inspecting the horses.
“Yes,” said Jesus, opening a wagon door, “We’ve owned them for the past few months, a trader in northern Judea sold them to me.” Ignoring the sack of worthless clothes, he lifted out his bag of treasure, now weighing 220 pounds, while the slave watered and began to comb down the horses. Walking across the street, Jesus entered a dark alleyway. A lone figure approached, directly in his path.
“What’s in the bag man?” asked the figure, clearly a common criminal.
“None of your goddamned business,” Jesus spat, the man blocking his path.
“Wrong answer,” the man retorted, pulling a dagger.
“Don’t play with me asshole,” said Jesus in his vampire voice.
“Give me the bag.”
Narrowing his eyes in contempt, Jesus waited for him to make his move. It didn’t take long, the man lunging at him with the dagger seconds later. Dropping the bag, the vampiric Christ grabbed his assailant’s arm with his left and held it, breaking his neck with his right. The robber went limp, his dagger falling to the ground. Heaving the fresh corpse over a shoulder, he lifted the bag with his free arm. Kicking the dagger to the gutter, he headed to his room, depositing the bag and body beneath the bed. He entered the adjacent room where his parents and consort were relaxing and announced, “Please come to our room Mary, I have a present for you.”
“Oh goody,” said the Magdalene, “I’ve always liked presents.”
Jesus turned to his parents. “Please be certain to lock the door father; this is not the best of neighborhoods.”
Joseph nodded, barring the door as they left. Returning to their pitch-black room, Jesus opened the door and entered.
“Where’s my present?” asked Mary.
“Under the bed.”
Looking beneath the bed, she pulled the cadaver out by a limp, pale arm and exclaimed, “My supper, why thank you Jesus!” Noticing the lack of bite marks on the neck, she asked, “Didn’t you have some?”
“No, please remember dear Mary, vampires do not live by blood alone. Besides, you were right, there are plenty of meals available here.”
“Who was he?”
“A robber who wanted my bag, so I broke his neck. Enjoy your supper, I’m heading out to find another,” said Jesus, leaving and closing the door behind him.
Strolling down the alley, he passed by the inn’s registration office and headed to the main street. Seeing a drunken whore weaving down the sidewalk with one of her patrons, Jesus recalled his ill-fated ministry and silently observed, This world is indeed a terrible place – my simplistic view of this forsaken mess was really skewed. Dismissing the bitter thought, he continued past, heading for the heart of the city.
His hunt did not take long, for within minutes yet another thief appeared from a side street, brandishing a dagger. Walking up, he growled in Aramaic, “Give me your money or I’ll kill you!”
“I seriously doubt that, and I don’t have any money with me friend,” said Jesus in his native tongue.
“I don’t have friends!” retorted the thief.
“Your statement strikes me as obvious.”
“What?”
“Never mind, forget that I said it,” Jesus answered, annoyed at the thief’s stupidity.
“Give me your jewels,” the thief ordered, waving his dagger.
“I don’t have any of those on me either.”
“What are you, a bum?”
“No,” Jesus replied, thoroughly bored with the situation.
“What are you then?”
“A vampire, looking for someone exactly like you,” said Jesus, freezing his assailant where he stood. Saying nothing further, he plunged fangs i
n the throat, draining his life from him. Remembering that he should clean up leftover messes to avoid problems, Jesus retrieved the dagger, placing it in his cloak. Lifting the body from the street, he heaved it over a shoulder, looking about for a place to dump it. He spied a public lavatorium, made his way over, and entered. Making certain it was deserted, he checked the corpse for valuables. Tearing off the victim’s tunic pockets in search of the smallest coin, Jesus found nothing. Annoyed by the lack of a payoff, he hurled the body down a latrine shaft, where it landed in the sewer with a loud splash.
“I wonder if he’ll clog the sewer, not that I care,” said a chuckling Jesus, smiling as he left.
Returning to their room, Mary was on the bed relaxing, the emptied corpse on its side at her feet. “They go stale fast, not that it was bad or anything,” she observed, Jesus sitting down on the bed with her.
“Yeah, what can you do,” Jesus replied, “Guess what, I’ve found a really good place to dump bodies.”
“Where?”
“Public lavatoriums, I dropped mine down the shaft of a latrine, the sewer will carry them away.”
“Just like shit, what a great idea! I’ve always said you were a genius, would you like to get rid of this one?”
“Why not, want to come along?”
“Sure,” said the Magdalene, “I love the night.”
They headed to another lavatorium, the second cadaver over Jesus’ shoulder. He propped the corpse up on a commode seat, intent on checking the body for money. A disgusted Mary interjected, “I checked him, he didn’t have as much as a shekel.”
“Figures,” said Jesus, stopping his search, “The other robber had nothing either, the thieves in this city must be poor, stupid or perhaps both.”
“This one certainly was,” she agreed, as Jesus dumped the body headfirst into the latrine.
“Lavatoriums will come in handy in the future,” said Jesus, “It’s too bad they’re not around everywhere.”
“That’s the truth,” Mary replied, looking into the latrine and watching the floating corpse disappear headfirst into the sewer pipe.
Heading to their room, Jesus related the events he observed while hunting for his nourishment. Unlike his new self and atavistically like his old, he was bitterly complaining of the decadence of Antioch, whores and robbers plying the streets like so many flies, concluding that the thief he had killed had mistook him for a bum.
“So what, the entire world’s decadent and there’s nothing we can do about it, so why let it bother you?”
“It doesn’t really anymore,” Jesus answered, not being completely truthful, “I was just making conversation.”
“But you are bothered that a common thief mistook you for a beggar,” Mary countered, with keen insight into his personality.
“Perhaps.”
“You know, if you cut your hair and trim that long beard, maybe people wouldn’t think you were an indigent,” she suggested as diplomatically as possible.
“You think so?”
“When in Rome, one does as Romans do.”
“We’re not in Rome woman.”
“We may as well be,” said Mary, “Antioch’s the capital of this part of the empire and most men here don’t look as unkempt. If you paid some attention to your appearance you might blend in a bit.”
“Really?” asked Jesus, thinking he hadn’t gone to that much trouble while traveling when younger, not recalling the sheltering care his hosts had lavished on him. As a philosopher of some fame, it hadn’t mattered as to his appearance; most figuring he was simply eccentric.
“We can give it a try if you like, I have a brush and shears.”
“Why not,” said Jesus as they entered their room.
Over the next hour, Mary gave Jesus a makeover, cutting off his long hair and trimming his beard, changing his appearance so dramatically that it was hard to for his consort to recognize him.
Observing his reflection in her polished bronze mirror, Jesus declared that he indeed looked better, venturing that it might be appropriate if he were clean-shaven like the Romans were.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a razor or even a strop for one; we could probably pick one up from a barbershop,” said Mary.
“I definitely want to,” agreed a smiling Jesus, looking in the mirror like a budding narcissist, “Thank you very much, you’ve made me look a lot better.”
The Magdalene smiled back. “At the brothel the pimps and whores always let me cut their hair, some said I should have opened a salon,” she not revealing she had been saving money to do so before meeting him in Magdala, as a whore can last only so long.
“You’d have made a lot of money,” Jesus replied.
At the tender age of 24, Mary Magdalene had saved nearly 100 denarii from her honest work of cutting hair for the local pimps and whores, and was on the verge of opening a salon until Jesus Christ came along. After meeting him, she had used the money to buy fish and bread for a multitude attending the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus having thanked her for helping him perform the miracle.
“We’d best cover the window,” said Jesus, glancing to an open window near the ceiling, noticing the sky starting to lighten. Walking to the opening, he added, “It’s facing east, all we’d need is to be fried by the sun while we sleep.”
“Close the shutters, I closed them for your folks in their room to deter bandits.”
“Good idea,” Jesus replied, closing and locking the shutters.
Tired, they moved to their bed for a good day’s sleep.
Dark Resurrection Page 16
