Through a Glass Darkly (Harbingers Book 17)

by Bill Myers

  “So they’re trying to jump the gun?”

  Cowboy gave a slow nod. “According to the Bible.”

  Andi sighed. “Bijan certainly seems to know what he’s talking about.”

  Cowboy agreed. “And he’s already brought in the equipment.”

  “Equipment for what?” I said.

  “Dudes,” Chad said, straightening.

  Andi went on talking. “That would have been a good question to ask him.”

  “Along with a thousand others.”

  “Dudes,” Chad repeated, “it’s Daniel.”

  I spun to him. His eyes were closed and he was obviously concentrating.

  “I thought you were blocked,” Cowboy said.

  Chad frowned. “Shhh . . .”

  We got quiet and waited. Finally, Chad started to quote what he was hearing:

  “Having lots of fun.”

  “Where,” I said. “Where is he?”

  “Shh.”

  I bit my tongue and waited.

  “I hope you are, too.”

  “We are what?” Cowboy asked.

  “Having fun,” Andi said.

  Chad continued. “I’m at home, everything is fine. Don’t be scared. The Watchers are looking out for me. They’re with you, too.”

  I glanced around the room, half-way expecting to see someone or something in a corner.

  “You gotta trust them. Use your gifts like they’ve trained you.”

  “Trained?” I asked.

  “Will you shut up?” Chad said.

  It killed me, but I obeyed.

  “Keep having fun.”

  Chad leaned forward, scowling harder . . . until he sighed and opened his eyes. “That’s it. I lost him.”

  “Lost him?” I said.

  “I got blocked.”

  “But he’s okay,” Cowboy said, trying to assure me. “He said he was having fun and he’s okay.”

  “That’s all you heard?” I asked Chad.

  He nodded. “’Til the voices came back.”

  “The ones you and me have been asking Jesus to stop?” Cowboy said.

  Chad glanced around like he was embarrassed, then slowly nodded.

  Cowboy smiled. “Don’t worry, partner, we’ll keep at it. You and me, we’ll keep praying.”

  Chad’s face only got redder.

  Another round of silence until Andi spoke up. “So . . . we have our assignment. We have our guide.”

  “And we know the Watchers will be helping,” Cowboy said.

  “If they’re to be trusted,” I said.

  Andi turned to me. “They’ve never lied to us before.”

  It’s true. We’d been through a lot. Most of it I don’t get. But one thing you can say, they’d never let us down.

  “So . . .” Andi looked over the group. “Is everyone in?”

  Cowboy nodded.

  So did I.

  And Pretty Boy? He took a deep breath, paused, and also joined in.

  Chapter 6

  Next morning we had something the hotel advertised as “A Delightful Continental Buffet to Begin Your Day.”

  Translation: Bread, cucumbers, bread, tomatoes, bread, goat cheese, bread, and some orange water they called ‘orange juice’ to help wash down the bread.

  “Kind of miss the sausage gravy and biscuits, hey, Jock-o?” Chad asked.

  Cowboy grinned. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe they got some in back. You should go ask.”

  Cowboy gave him a look and Chad nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

  Taking his cue, Cowboy nodded and rose.

  “Tank?” Andi called.

  “Maybe they can round up some bacon while they’re at it,” Chad said. “Oh, and honey-baked ham, now that would be sweet.”

  “Tank?”

  “Yeah, Andi?”

  “We’re in a Muslim country.”

  He frowned.

  “They don’t eat pork.”

  Cowboy hesitated and looked at Chad, who smirked. The big guy turned and lumbered back to his seat.

  “You seem better,” I said to Chad.

  He nodded to Cowboy. “Trying out the troll’s prescription.”

  “About God?”

  He grunted.

  “Might be a couple other things to pick up in that department,” I said.

  “Maybe, but the way I figure, he’s got it all wrong.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “No, listen. There’s not one doorway. There are two.”

  “What,” I said, “the good one and the bad one?”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than that. But for your simple mind, yeah, that’s close enough.”

  I was already regretting Cowboy helping Chad feel better. Even more so as we headed up to our rooms to get ready and Chad called, “And don’t forget those swim suits. Seeing Andi in a bikini is the only reason I came.”

  (I’m guessin’ some changes take a lot of prayer).

  Thirty minutes later we were crammed back into Bijan’s car. After crossing the dam and hitting every rut and pothole along the way, we finally arrived at the prison.

  It seemed a lot bigger when you were right next to it. Creepier, too.

  “Come,” Bijan said. “We have much to do.” He grabbed a flashlight from the car and we started out.

  Everywhere we looked there were fallen and half-destroyed walls. And it was completely gutted. No furniture. No iron bars. Even the electrical wiring was gone. Just one crumbling passageway after another as Bijan’s flashlight played over the empty niches that had once been prison cells.

  “How many did this place hold?” Cowboy asked.

  “It was designed for 155 people. Before we were liberated there were nearly 1300.”

  “That’s terrible,” Andi said.

  “Yes, at times it was not so easy.”

  We entered a narrow stairway, partially hidden. Its walls and descending steps were carved out of stone. It went down forever.

  A minute or two later, Chad let out a cry and doubled over.

  “You okay, partner?” Cowboy asked.

  “Yeah. It’s just . . .” He hesitated.

  “The voices?” Cowboy said. “They’re back?”

  Chad took a breath then quietly answered, “Yeah.”

  Cowboy raised a big paw and set it on the man’s shoulder. Without a word he began moving his lips. Ten, twenty seconds later, Pretty Boy looked up and nodded. Cowboy nodded back. And we continued.

  Eventually we reached the bottom of the stairway and traveled through another passageway. Fifty yards later we reached the water’s edge. It was black and silent. Bijan swept his light across the water to the far wall. It was twenty feet away. The place was no more than ten feet wide. The ceiling was about that high, too.

  “And there is your equipment.” He directed his light back to our side and the left where we saw a small pile of—

  “Diving masks?” Andi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s our equipment?” Chad said. “That’s all we have?”

  “That is all you need. And, of course, your special talents.” He motioned to a small niche over to the right. “Ladies, you may change over there. And gentlemen,” he swept his light to the left, “over there.”

  Chad was the last to join us from his changing room.

  “You’re kidding,” I said. “Speedos? Really?”

  He flexed his abs which, like it or not, were impressive. “When you got it, flaunt it,” he said (which changed their status from impressive to disgusting).

  Cowboy was more modest. Like me and Andi, he had gone for the cutoffs and baggy-tee-shirt look.

  “Please, you will join me?” Bijan said. He stood waist deep in the water, next to the left wall. His flashlight was the only thing that lit the place.

  Cowboy was the first to step in. Not to be outdone, Chad followed. Then Andi. Then me.

  “If you reach under the water to your left,” Bijan said, “you will feel a rope along the
side of this wall. It is threaded through fasteners attached to the stone. It will lead you to your destination.”

  “Which is . . .?” I asked.

  He flashed his beam across the water to the far wall. “It is forty feet beyond that.”

  “Beyond it?” Cowboy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But . . . that’s a wall.”

  “And you are going under it.”

  Andi frowned. “For forty feet?”

  “Not to worry. There are many small pockets of air. You will not have to hold your breath the entire way.”

  “By small you mean . . .”

  “Six, in some places, ten inches high, now that the river has lowered. And that is our concern. As the river drops the angels will eventually be able to escape.”

  I frowned. “What, they’re allergic to water?”

  “This I do not know.”

  “I’m melting, I’m melting.” Chad did his best Wicked Witch of the West impression. We did our best to ignore him.

  “Now,” Bijan said as he eased deeper into the water, “here you will feel the rope.” He motioned for us to follow. We moved forward until the water was up to our chests as we groped along the wall searching for the rope.

  “Got it,” Chad said.

  “Me, too,” Andi said.

  “And me,” Cowboy said.

  When I found it, it felt more like a cord than a rope. And slimy, probably from the water.

  “You will be in total darkness,” Bijan said. “This is your lifeline. “It will take you to air pockets where you must breathe. At no time must you release it. If you do, you will be lost and you will surely . . .” He came to a stop, probably by the looks on our faces. He forced a smile and simply repeated, “It is best not to release the rope.”

  We nodded like obedient children. Very nervous obedient children.

  “Now if everyone is ready, please put on your equipment and follow me.” He slipped his mask over his face, then took several deep breaths, turned and disappeared into the black water.

  Chapter 7

  Chad followed Bijan, Andi followed Chad, then me, and finally Tank.

  If the river was dark on the surface, it was pitch black underneath. A small part of me wanted to turn tail and run. Alright, a big part of me. I’m not claustrophobic, just not a fan of drowning. Dying’s not high on my list, either.

  And the cord? At first I cheated. Instead of following it as it rose back up every ten to fifteen feet into an air pocket, I tried keeping my head at the surface all the time.

  Only problem was there was no surface. Just rock. Luckily, the water had worn the stone smooth so there was nothing jagged to cut my head when I slammed into it. But I was sure getting a mother of a headache. So I eventually decided to play by the rules.

  And just as Bijan said, every time I thought I needed a breath, the cord led me up to a pocket of air. I’d hang there a few seconds, take a couple deep breaths, then drop back under. True, the pockets were just as black as the water, but they were a lot easier to breathe.

  Unfortunately, all that darkness didn’t help with the images in my brain. They came almost immediately and there was nothing I could do to stop them. At first they were innocent enough. Candlesticks, lambs, crowds of people in white robes.

  Then things got weird.

  A woman, a hooker really, riding some crazy four-footed monster while she’s gulping blood from a bowl. She looked directly into my eyes and snarled—red teeth dripping blood that spilled from her mouth and ran down her neck.

  Then there was a leopard, but with giant bear paws. And heads. A half dozen of ’em, maybe more. Each one howling and cussing. When they spotted me, their eyes turned into fire with hate so hot I literally felt its heat against my face.

  I’ve seen a lot in my life and ain’t no chicken, but this definitely kicked up my pulse. And my need for air. I began to panic. I’d only been under a few seconds, but I needed to breathe. I pulled along the line faster. Little sparkles of light began popping up in my vision. My heart pounded in my ears. And my lungs burned hotter and hotter. I had to put out the fire, suck in the cool, soothing water. Then, true to form, the line suddenly shot up and I was in a pocket of air gulping it down like a mad woman.

  The leopard disappeared. I stayed in that pocket, gasping, trying to calm myself. It was just as dark, but at least I was safe . . . until the fairies showed up. Like in Mexico. They darted and dived around my head, coming closer and closer, until one grabbed my hair with its spindly little hands and began yanking. Others joined in, a couple clawing and biting my scalp. Another vision? No doubt. But real enough. With nowhere to go, I took another breath and dropped back under the water.

  The cord went deeper than before. And new images appeared. Even more vivid. First there was the sound of hoof beats behind me. They quickly grew into a roar. When I turned, I saw hundreds upon hundreds of horses—black, white, red. And their riders. Some alive, others rotting skeletons.

  And blood. Everywhere. And rising. To my knees, waist, chest. The horses were swimming in it, kicking, trying not to drown. My heart hammered in my chest. I had to breathe again. Desperately. But the cord kept going downward.

  A dragon came into sight and filled my vision. Red and huge with a tail so big that it literally knocked stars out of the sky. Like the leopard, the dragon had lots of heads. Only with horns. It hissed and lunged at me. But it wasn’t me. Well, it was, but it wasn’t. One minute I was black, then white, then Asian, then Latin. And pregnant. Every version of me was pregnant.

  The first contraction hit hard. So hard I gasped, nearly sucking in the surrounding water. The heads continued to approach, their long necks wrapping around me. One floated just inches from my face, snapping and snarling.

  I clenched my jaws, pursed my lips, trying not to suck in the water. But my lungs were on fire again. Screaming and burning for air.

  The head nearest my ear had a horn with a mouth that began screaming vile, obscene things. Suddenly I had to push. It was like I was giving birth. I couldn’t stop. Pain seared through my gut. One of the heads dropped onto my belly, its teeth gnashing like it was starving, waiting for my baby to appear so it could eat it. Another was twisting and squirming its way up my legs.

  It was too much. The sparkling lights returned. Brighter, bigger. The edges of my vision grew white. My lungs burned, screaming for air. But the baby was coming. I had to stay awake.

  I felt the head’s tongue, the one on my belly, flicking back and forth in anticipation. The other had slithered up to my knees.

  I had to surface.

  I let go of the cord and shot up until I slammed into the rock ceiling. Dazed, barely conscious, I worked my hands across the stone, desperate to find an opening.

  Nothing.

  My heart roared in my ears. I was in full- blown panic. The head moved down my belly, the other up my thigh, shrieking in anticipation. I kicked. I thrashed, groping at the ceiling. I pounded my fists against the rock. Heard a baby scream. Mine? I couldn’t tell. Something grabbed me from behind. I fought, I twisted, I kicked. I had no idea where I was, no up or down, as everything grew white, whiter, all white . . . as the sound faded.

  And then there was nothing.

  Chapter 8

  I woke up swinging. Didn’t know where I was. Didn’t matter.

  “Easy, Miss Brenda, easy.”

  I felt Cowboy’s big paws holding me down. My head exploded in pain. I would have fought harder, but I had nothing left.

  “Easy.”

  I relaxed. A little. I dropped my head back down onto what felt like grass.

  “Pretty impressive,” Chad said.

  “Well done, Tank,” Andi added.

  I finally pried open my eyes.

  “Welcome back,” Chad said.

  I focused and saw them staring at me from around a small campfire. Except for Cowboy. He was leaning back on his haunches smiling down at me. The light around us was soft and pinkish like just before suns
et. I heard a stream bubbling nearby. And Birds. Lots of chirping and singing.

  “What . . .” I swallowed and tried again. “What happened?

  “Not much,” Chad said. “Well, except for the part of you drowning and the troll here, bringing you back to life.”

  “What?”

  “Just a little mouth-to-mouth.” Chad said. Winking at Cowboy, he added, “Which I’m betting you didn’t mind, eh, big guy?”

  Cowboy glanced away, obviously embarrassed.

  It took some effort, but I finally managed to sit up. That’s when I spotted the fawn. She stood beside Andi, nuzzling her arm. “Where are we?”

  Chad nodded to Bijan. “Our man here calls it Eden.”

  “Eden?”

  He kicked a bunny sniffing at his shoe. “Scram.”

  “Eden?” I repeated. “As in . . .”

  “The Garden of Eden,” Andi said.

  I frowned.

  “Yeah, I didn’t buy it either,” Chad said. He nodded towards Andi, “’Til Miss hot and lovely here reminded us.”

  Ignoring him, she asked me, “Are you sure you’re okay? You had us all pretty worried.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I said.

  She took a deep breath. “According to the book of Genesis, the Garden of Eden was located between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.”

  Cowboy finally spoke. “Which is where we are.”

  “The general vicinity,” she said.

  “But that’s a myth,” I said. “I mean, my grandpa used to preach it, but—”

  “Your grandfather was a preacher?” Cowboy interrupted.

  “And Grandma the choir director, but the point is—”

  “Wow.”

  “The point is it’s a fable, an old wives’ tale. It can’t be real.”

  “Then it’s doing a pretty good imitation of it,” Chad said, gesturing at our surroundings.

  “I was certainly surprised,” Andi said. “For numerous reasons. Not the least of which is the complete lack of archeological evidence.”

  Bijan spoke up. “Yes, it is, how do you put it, ‘well hidden.’”

  I looked at the campfire. Not that we needed it, the light and temperature were perfect. But it was a nice effect. It would have been nicer if something was actually burning. Instead the flames came from a small hole with rocks set around it so it looked like a campfire.