by Robert Ryan
“Amen,” Zeke said.
He put the camcorder away, closed the backpack and shrugged it onto his shoulders. The Creator picked him up and brought him close to his face.
“Now comes the true Harrowing. You know the meaning of the word?”
“Yes. I looked it up when I did my research. To inflict distress, torment.”
“It is also the preparing of soil for new crops.” He gazed at the dark figure standing a short distance away. “Time to beat these swords into ploughshares.”
The spirit of Satan had completely possessed Lucifer again. He stood with fists balled, the glowing hatred back on his face. “You underestimate me, Messiah. Let the Harrowing begin.”
“Be careful what you wish for, my son. I shall deal with you in a moment.”
“You shall deal with me now.”
Satan charged. The Creator swatted him aside with a backhand, but Satan quickly recovered and charged again. The two came together in a tight clinch, each trying to push the other backward. The Creator began to give ground, moving to Zeke’s left, toward the sea of fire. Was He luring Satan into a trap or actually being overpowered?
Zeke pulled the pistol from his waistband and clicked off the safety. As he pulled it up to fire at Satan, his attention was drawn to sounds of shuffling and scurrying to his right.
The demon tribe was on the move. It had grown to an alarming size.
How many were there? At least three dozen, but Zeke heard many more in the darkness beyond. There might be hundreds back there. Thousands.
He had however many bullets were left in this magazine and two more spares. Maybe seventy-five rounds.
The nearest creatures had formed a charging line. Zeke squeezed the trigger. Seconds later the magazine was empty and all but three of the monstrosities had fallen. They scampered toward him as he jammed in a fresh magazine. The trio of demons closed quickly and leapt at him. A short burst killed them in midair. One landed on Zeke and bounced off.
Another line was advancing quickly.
The roar from the Creator’s battle mingled with the screeching and howling of Satan’s demonic army to create a mind-numbing din.
Zeke was frantically trying to come up with a plan for when he ran out of ammunition—which would be soon—but it was hard to think with all the noise. The next skulking, skittering wave of miscreations was ten yards away and closing fast. Zeke hit them with a spray of bullets. The final one fell just as he fired the last round.
He shoved in the last magazine. Thirty-three rounds left.
More demons came forward, but didn’t charge. Instead they huddled together, gibbering as they looked at the carnage with alarm. Their screeching had died down to a low, sinister murmur. From their frantic gestures and glances, Zeke guessed they were devising a new method of attack. He used the time to back away and think.
Fifty yards to his left, the Creator and Satan were locked in a standoff, neither appearing to give an inch. Even though He had his hands full, at this point the Creator was Zeke’s only hope. He had promised He would be there for him when the moment of truth came. Zeke had to trust in that promise and get over there. He had no other options.
The demons had broken their huddle and were spreading out to surround him. There were dozens, and more kept coming. With his finger on the trigger of the pistol, Zeke started to run.
He had waited too long. The growing horde had fanned out to block his way. He stopped and pointed the gun, hoping to blast an opening.
Above the low roar of the demon tribe a sound made him take his finger off the trigger: the unmistakable pop-pop-pop of gunfire. Coming from somewhere behind the throng. The demons heard it too and froze, looking toward the sound.
They started to scatter but were apparently being driven back by the gunfire. Powerful beams of light bobbed through the darkness at either side of the screeching mob.
The gunfire got louder. One of the shooters along the right side emerged from the shadows.
Reese Nolan. Wearing a powerful headlamp, he was shredding demons with rounds from a large automatic rifle. Another shooter came into view at the left side of the quivering mass, doing the same thing.
Joe Dayagi.
Reese and Dayagi quickly took up positions in front of the terrified horde to block any further advance. Leah and Hassan came up to replace them along the flanks. All four carried what looked like the same model rifle and were ripping demons to shreds. Caught in a pincer, their only escape was to the rear. Zeke watched them fleeing into the darkness, doubtless to the caves and ledges where he had first seen them. A moment later all were either gone or dead.
A cloud of smoke and the acrid smell of gunfire hung in the air. Grisly chunks of demon carcass littered the ground. Guarding against the possibility that the creatures might make another charge, the Hell Squad kept their weapons aimed at the darkness while backing up to Zeke. Reese got there first, the others close behind.
Keeping his eyes on the darkness, Reese said, “What else are we up against here?”
“Satan. He’s over there. Going at it with God.”
Leah stared at him. “God?”
“That’s right. The Creator, He calls Himself. I’ll explain later.”
“Later,” Reese said. “Right now we need to reload.”
He took off his backpack and went down on one knee. The others followed suit, pulling fresh drum magazines from their packs. While they swapped them out Zeke quickly went to Leah and squeezed her shoulder. “I specifically told you all not to come down here. Thank God you’re not the type to blindly follow orders.”
Leah touched his hand for a second before going back to reloading. “We decided we’re the Hell Squad. This is where we belong. We put it to a vote. It was four to nothing.”
Zeke went to Reese. “These have to be those weapons you were talking about.” Reese nodded. “You said you struck out on these.”
“I did. But Mr. Dayagi here is very well-connected.”
They finished reloading, shrugged into their packs, and hefted their weapons into position. All eyes turned to Zeke.
“Time to bust a cap in your boy,” Reese said.
“How many rounds in each drum?”
“Thirty-two. Each of us has two more fresh ones. Our version of the wrath of God. If all that doesn’t at least slow him down, we’re in deep shit.”
Dayagi came over to Zeke, who was still holding the Uzi pistol. Dayagi pulled three fresh magazines for it from a zipper pocket. “I thought you might be running low. The bullets aren’t silver, but they can still do some damage.”
Zeke took the ammo, jammed one magazine into the pistol and the others into his pack. He gave Dayagi a thumbs up. “Hopefully the Creator has him under control and none of this matters. We’re his backup now. Let’s go.”
Before they could advance, a large burst of light came from that direction and was upon them. The light changed into the Creator. He released Satan from his fist. The silver crucifixes were sticking out of him again, immobilizing him. The Creator addressed the Hell Squad.
“Four more souls willing to sacrifice themselves to make the world a better place. More proof that the human race is worth saving.”
Satan was tugging weakly on one of the crucifixes. Finally he got it out and dropped it to the floor. He moved on to the next one.
The Creator continued to address the Hell Squad. “Use the spirit that brought you here to help Zeke on his mission above. Down here, your work is done.” He motioned toward Satan. “Mine is not. I underestimated him. The crucifixes will hold him for a while.”
“What do you need us to do?” Zeke asked.
“Go back to your world. Prepare for the darkness before the dawn. Lucifer has become the blackest sheep. He must be brought back into the fold. When that is done—and it shall be done—he will no longer be able to propagate his evil offspring. No longer will he be the root of all evil. Your task, and the task of the human race, will be to use your second chance to eradicate w
hatever evil has taken root in your hearts. Once that is done, the world can live in peace.”
Satan pulled out another crucifix. His hand went to another. Removing it took a little less time. His hand closed on another.
“We have all this firepower,” Zeke said. “It’s looking like now is the time to use it.”
“No. I have an army of angels if I need them, far more powerful than his. But in the end this fight is mine.
“It must come down to he and I alone. We started it. We must finish it.”
“But—”
“No. I must prove beyond all doubt that good is stronger than evil. I cannot leave behind a world where it takes guns to survive. It shames me that you live in a world where guns have become necessary. A world where those with the guns have the power, a power they use to enslave others, to frighten and maim and kill the innocent.
“No. When I finish here, there will be no need for guns. Only one power can prevail: the power of good. That starts now. I shall transport you safely back to your world, but first: Record this, Ezekiel, so there shall be no mistake.”
Zeke pulled the camcorder from his pack. The Creator stared into the camera.
“Spread the Word, Ezekiel. Love, forgiveness, and the One Commandment. Instill it in these”—he gestured at the Hell Squad, and Zeke panned the group—“your most trusted, and in all that you can. Show them the video.”
“I will. But you know how the human mind works, with the help of the media. I will be accused of faking this.”
“The video shall only be the next step in paving the way, in opening hearts and minds for my return. I shall appear soon. All doubt shall be cast aside. I shall not forsake you. Go now. It is time to for the Prince of Darkness to once again become the Bearer of Light. It will require some tough love and forgiveness.”
He closed his hand around the Hell Squad and extended his arm. In an instant they were back at the entrance to Hell. In the next instant they were hurtling through the tunnel beyond, as if transported by a bullet train made of white light. The tunnel walls rushing by gave a sense of impossible speed, yet they felt only the sensation of gently gliding through space. What seemed like only seconds later, they were released at the top of the slope, in the opening where the flat stretch began.
They lay for a moment, stunned. Gradually their senses returned until they realized where they were.
The ground trembled.
They whipped their heads around to see if something was coming after them. It was too dark to tell.
Another tremor.
“They’re working out their differences,” Zeke said. “Is everyone all right?”
Grunts and nods of affirmation all around as they got to their feet. Zeke noticed empty food wrappers and water bottles on the floor. “Where’s Mordecai?”
“On the boat, waiting for us,” Leah said. “He wanted to come, but we finally decided someone from the Hell Squad should stay up top to handle any emergencies. The rest of us came down here and camped out. At first we were just going to wait here, but I told them we weren’t leaving without you. Period.”
“How long was I gone?”
“You left on Tuesday. We came down and spent the night here. When you didn’t come back the next morning, I said the heck with that noise and we took a vote.”
“So today is…Thursday? The 20th?”
“Should be. Seems like it took us a day to get to you, but time might be different down there. Who knows? All I know is we’re alive.” Emotion rippled through her mask of resolve. “You’re alive.”
Zeke pulled her into a long, almost crushing embrace. Finally they tore themselves away from each other.
“I want to hug you all,” Zeke said, “but it’ll have to wait. We need to get out of here.”
They all looked at one another, the space between them so supercharged with emotion it actually seemed to vibrate.
A roar came from far below. The shock wave that followed knocked them off balance, dislodging rocks and dust from the ceiling.
“Yeah, let’s,” Reese said.
They moved along the flat passage, quickly reaching the far end where it descended into the water. Their diving gear, including an extra outfit for Zeke, had been neatly laid out.
“What happened down there?” Hassan asked as they hastily suited up.
“I’ll tell you all the whole story when we get back to base. And I’ll show you. I got a lot of it on video. By tomorrow the whole world will know. For now, I’ll just tell you the ending.”
He stopped dressing and made pointed eye contact. All eyes locked onto his.
Zeke felt an acute awareness that this was the moment he’d been born for.
“The Good Guy wins.”
CHAPTER 71
Dig Headquarters. December 21, 2012.
The next morning Zeke and Leah watched the live television report in their room. The newscaster was model-handsome, impeccably dressed in suit and tie. He gave a quick synopsis of the story, including the thorough process the network had used to “as much as humanly possible, at this point it time, verify the authenticity of the video you are about to see.”.
He finished his intro and the video began. The reporter made occasional voice-over comments for clarification.
It was all there: Hell, Satan, the Creator. As the video unfolded, Zeke began to realize the enormity of his challenge to convince the world it was real. He couldn’t wait to get started.
The video ended and the reporter came back on.
“That concludes our report on this historic event. From the moment we became aware of this phenomenal story, we have been working feverishly with networks around the world to get this groundbreaking news to as many people as possible as quickly as possible. For this initial broadcast, we estimate that a billion of you are watching. We will be having updates throughout the day, so please spread the word and stay tuned. This is Drake Winston, live from Jerusalem.”
Zeke clicked off the television.
“A billion people,” Leah said. “The way the word spreads in this day and age, with the Internet and all the social media, virtually everyone in the world will know by tonight.”
“Ironic,” Zeke said. “I’ve been calling television the Satan Box for years. Maybe this story can help reverse the bad karma the news has been spreading for years. That is if they don’t poison it with their usual cynicism, tearing it apart before it has a chance.”
“The digital serpent in the Garden of Eden,” Leah said.
“You got it.” Zeke glanced at the clock. “Come on. We’ve got to pull it together and get downstairs.”
The Hell Squad had agreed to meet privately in the War Room at nine to say their final goodbyes. When Zeke and Leah walked in a few minutes early, Mordecai, Reese, and Joe Dayagi were already there, having coffee.
“Hassan will be here any minute,” Mordecai said.
Zeke nodded. “Did you all see the news report?”
“We were just talking about it,” Reese said. “If your video doesn’t get people to behave, I don’t know what will.”
“We’ll see. They’re still debating the Zapruder film.”
Reese shook his head. “This isn’t the same. Your video is clear, and there’s a lot more of it. And no matter how much they check it out, they’ll see it was impossible to fake. Plus the Creator said He’d be coming to testify.”
“He did, didn’t He?” Zeke said.
Hassan walked up to the table with a frail older man they didn’t recognize.
“This is my father, ” Hassan said. “Tarik. Since he is the one who started all this, I wanted him to be here for the finish.”
“Started it?” Zeke said. “How?”
They sat and Hassan said, “Father, you tell it.”
Tarik looked at Zeke and Leah, sadness in his eyes.
“The scrolls you used to guide you on this journey. I am the Bedouin who discovered them and sold them to your priest.”
Everyone stared in stunne
d silence.
“I know,” Tarik said. “It seems impossible. But from the moment I found them, I knew they had a power. I felt its hand on my shoulder. When Hassan told me how you came to have them…and the sorrow they caused you and the priest…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Zeke said.
“If I had done the right thing, brought the scrolls to my tribe instead of selling them to the priest, you never would have been involved. Instead you both had to pay for my sin.”
Zeke shook his head. “Tarik, what happened to us wasn’t your fault. The hand you felt was of a much greater power. You just put the wheel of destiny in motion. What happened after that was beyond your control. This had to be. And the final outcome is one for rejoicing, not regret.”
A glimmer of hope brightened the old man’s eyes.
“Forgive yourself, Tarik,” Leah said. She took Zeke’s hand and Tarik’s. “We do.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I will try. Perhaps now I can find peace.”
“Perhaps the world can find peace,” Zeke said. His words hung in the air until Mordecai finally spoke.
“I hate to rush us, but I need to start getting people to the airport. And since we are talking of peace…Zeke, I have something for you. It’s over by the door, so I can give it to you on the way out. Come, everyone.”
The group followed Mordecai into the hall. Just outside the door to the War Room a package wrapped in plain tissue paper rested on a small table. Mordecai picked it up and handed it to Zeke. He removed the wrapping to reveal an exquisitely handcrafted plaque. It took a moment for the significance of the inscription to sink in.
He smiled and gave Mordecai an appreciative nod.
“I had this made after Zeke decided to go down that final tunnel,” Mordecai said. “I think it will be especially appropriate now, because I just got off the phone with the Prime Minister. As soon as he saw the news report, he was on the phone trying to revive the peace talks. He and the Palestinians are going to—to use Zeke’s words—‘dust off’ the Oslo Accords and use them as the road map. Israel is going to buy this property, as a headquarters for those negotiations. This room will be where those talks take place.”
