by J. M. LeDuc
“But what if I’m wrong, what if my decision causes the wall to collapse, what if somebody. . . ”
“Faith, Alana, this is all about faith. This whole mission has been about faith and we are not going to stop relying on it now. Is that the stone that you believe we need to dig under?”
“Yes, but. . . ”
“There are no buts,” Brent said. She was visibly shaking. He took her head in his hands and looked her in the eyes. “We believe in your judgment, that’s all that matters right now.” Stepping away from her, Brent faced the other two. “Let’s get the pick axes and shovels out of the packs and start digging. Keep the hole narrow. Just wide enough for us to squeeze through.”
Alana continued to stare at the wall, deep in thought, until the sounds of the equipment being readied stirred her back to reality. Closing her eyes, she said a short prayer and cleared her head of all doubt. “If we are going to do this, then we need to start the digging about ten feet back from the wall and gradually deepen the trench as we near the wall. We are going to have to keep the hole narrower that the width of the stone, thereby keeping as much of the infrastructure as possible.” She eyed Brent. “That gives you about two hours to lose some shoulder width or turn into Houdini.”
Brent looked at Seven who nodded his understanding of the situation. “Let’s just get the hole dug. I’ll get through it,” Brent said.
Alana walked away and drew a line in the limestone where she wanted the digging to begin. “God knows how,” she mumbled, “but if I have learned one thing in the past few days, it’s to not doubt what you say.”
For the next three hours the four of them picked and chipped away at the brittle, dry limestone floor. By the time they had reached the wall, the trench was two feet deep and just barely three feet wide.
Alana asked everyone to stop and listen to what she had to say. “From here, every sound and vibration could weaken the wall, so we dig with small hand tools only. Once we clear the stone on the other side, we dig out the same way we dug in.”
Everyone nodded their understanding as they took very small sips of water.
The time spent in the tunnels had been longer than they had estimated and their food and water supplies were dire. Only small sips were now allowed at predetermined increments.
An hour later, Brent and Seven were taking turns with a hand trowel, while Alana and the Bishop were getting some well deserved rest. Watching them dig in silence, yet in perfect harmony with each other, she whispered to the Bishop, “It’s as if they are of one mind. They don’t have to speak or even look at each other to communicate. It is amazing to watch.”
Bishop Jessup nodded and then took Alana’s hand in his. Squeezing it, he said, “I want to apologize for my remarks earlier. They were uncalled for.”
She slid her hand out from under his and lowered her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Bishop. I became angry because you were right. I know I have no right to be, but I’m falling in love with him.”
He lowered his head and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” A tear gently slid down her face.
“Hey you two,” Seven called out from the other side of the cave, “we’re through. I can feel the other side of the wall with my hand.”
Standing up and brushing themselves off, Alana said, “You won’t say anything, will you?”
“Consider it as if you were in a confessional,” Bishop Jessup answered.
Standing behind Alana, Brent put his hands on her shoulders and started massaging them. “What’s the game plan, now?”
She swallowed hard to try to rid her body and heart of the emotion that was building within her. Stepping away from Brent, she said, “We continue to dig with hand tools until we are far enough away that we can all stand up on the other side of the wall.” She looked at Brent and then at the wall. “I still don’t see how you are going to get through that opening.”
Brent ignored the question and asked, “How long before you figure we can get through?”
“Maybe an hour,” she said.
“Alright, you and Bishop Jessup keep digging. Seven and I will pack up and get ready to move out in one hour.”
While Seven and Brent were readying the backpacks, Seven calmly said, “Are you sure about this, you know, about what we have to do to get you through that hole?”
“There is no choice,” is all Brent said as he continued to stay busy.
“Colonel—Brent, look at me—please.” Brent stopped what he was doing and faced Seven. “You do remember what the doctor said, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Then say it. I want to hear you say the words.”
“I said I remember, Sev. That’s enough,” Brent said.
Grabbing Brent by the shoulders and looking at him face to face, Seven spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s not enough. If you expect me to help you do this, I want to hear the words in your own voice.”
Brent punctuated each word with a crisp cut between each one. “The doc said that the next time I dislocate my shoulders, I’d have a good chance of irreparable nerve damage.”
“And you’re willing to take that chance?” Seven said.
Brent looked at the opening under the wall and then again at Seven. “The way I see it, we only have to dislocate one of them and I should be able to slither my way through. Once I’m on the other side, you’ll be able to pop it back into the socket. It shouldn’t be out for more than a thirty seconds to a minute. The chance of permanent damage is minimal. So yes, I’m willing to take that chance. Satisfied?”
Seven nodded, saying, “That’s all I wanted to hear; yeah, I’m satisfied.”
With temperaments a bit calmer, Brent took Seven by the elbow and pulled him close. “There’s no reason why the others have to see what’s gonna happen. Nothing good can come of it. Nothing happens until they’re already across the wall.”
“You’re the Colonel, I’m just the. . . what is it that I am again?”
“My friend. My best friend. I wouldn’t let just any psychotic, gun-happy, adrenaline junkie purposely dislocate my shoulder.”
Seven smiled and spit a healthy wad of tobacco juice from his lips.
“We’re ready whenever you are, Colonel,” Alana said.
“Fine, the two of you slide under the wall and pull a back pack along with you. Tie it to your foot.”
“What about the two of you?” she asked.
“Once we know you have made it through the tunnel and are safely on the other side, we’ll follow. Give us about fifteen minutes and we’ll be coming. There is one thing I must insist on. Once you and the Bishop are on the other side, you are to touch nothing. Understood?”
“Yes, but. . . ”
“There are no buts, Alana. If we are actually stepping into the Holy of Holies, its infrastructure is tenuous at best. Touching anything could be the last thing you ever do. Do I have both of your words that you will do nothing until we are all together?”
“You have my word,” she said.
“I’ll try not to even breathe hard, promise,” Bishop Jessup said.
“Good, now let’s move out.”
CHAPTER 43
Alana and Bishop Jessup transferred without issue. Once on the other side they signaled that they were in good shape and were waiting further instruction. Brent looked at Seven and then walked to a secluded corner of the cave. There, he slowly dropped into a squat, rolled his head around a couple of times, breathing very deeply and slowly, expelling it silently through his nose. This went on for about five minutes until his head seemed to rest in a downward position and his breathing also seemed to have stopped all together.
As many times as Seven had witnessed this in the past, he still didn’t like it. He always had to fight the urge to go to Brent and make sure that he was indeed breathing.
<
br /> Brent’s eyes were now open, but rolled into the back of his head so all you could see were the whites. His entire body went limp. He squatted there like a rag doll. Seven knew that to approach him now would be dangerous. Depending upon where he was in his meditative state, Brent could respond with violence, peace or even a kill shot. The only thing Seven could do now was wait for his friend to come back to him.
Seven continued to keep an eye on Brent who continued to squat and make hand motions as if he was sifting dirt between them. It was because of this motion that Seven knew Brent was still under deep spiritual meditation. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the one piece of equipment that he had hoped that he would not have to use during this mission. A four inch long, two inch thick, hard, black rubber dowel. He studied it and looked at all the teeth marks that had already been embedded in it.
Squeezing it in his hand he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Brent was no longer ‘sifting dirt’ between hands. He knew that his friend would soon be coming back to reality, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be the same person who just moments ago squatted down on that small parcel of limestone.
Brent rose up, like a phoenix rising from new birth. His movements were slow but deliberate. Making his way to Seven, his eyes were glazed over and blank. No emotion showed on his face or in his movements. He nodded, took the dowel from Seven’s hand and turned away from him.
He placed the dowel in his mouth, took a couple of deep mind clearing breaths and dropped his head. His upper body was totally relaxed and ready. Seven positioned himself behind Brent on his left hand side. With his left hand, he grabbed Brent left wrist and pulled down to tension the shoulder.
Brent was so relaxed, that the tension alone caused a slight subluxation of the humerus. Seven spread his legs out, placing his right foot directly behind Brent’s left heal. His right foot was posterior and lateral to his left, positioning himself in a classic martial arts attack stance.
Seven closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, released the tension from his own body and brought his right arm back. Opening his eyes, he exhaled and drove the palm of his right hand through the posterior portion of the gleno-humeral joint causing an anterior dislocation of Brent’s shoulder. The loud popping noise let him know that the dislocation was complete.
Brent remained perfectly still. The only difference was the degree of bite on the rubber dowel.
Seven took the dowel from his mouth. “It’s over, Colonel. Let’s get on the other side of that damn wall.”
Brent opened his eyes, nodded and said, “Wrap it.”
Seven waited a few seconds to make sure his breathing had slowed and pulled Brent’s left shoulder toward his chest. Pulling his left arm across his chest he quickly wrapped an ace bandage around Brent’s upper body, holding his shoulder in a locked position.
Moments later Brent was being pushed through the tight opening. Once Brent was able to use his feet to push himself along, Seven quickly followed. On the other side of the wall darkness engulfed them. It was so dark that Alana and Stephen couldn’t even see that Brent was bandaged up.
Once upright, Seven unwrapped the bandage and quickly performed a closed reduction of Brent’s humerus. As soon as it was done, Brent’s entire body took on a new sense of empowerment. He no longer slouched or seemed ragdoll-ish, but stood straight, with a sense of strength and authority.
“Brent, can you hear me?” Seven asked.
A cold sweat poured off his face. He nodded and said, “I’m with you, buddy, thank you.”
“What are you two talking about? It’s bad enough I can’t see you, but now you’re talking nonsense.”
“Everything’s fine, Alana,” Brent answered. “Seven just made it possible for me to get through that rat hole. What do you say we shine some light on this place and see what we’ve got?”
Bishop Jessup let out a sigh of relief. “That’s the best thing you could have said besides, ‘let’s go home’.”
“Bishop, inside your pack there are a couple of hazard light sticks, grab them for me,” Brent said.
Shuffling through his stuff, Bishop Jessup pulled out three neon colored plastic sticks and handed them to Brent, who dropped them when he tried to grab them with his left hand.
Seven quickly bent down and picked them up. “Grip a little weak, Colonel?”
“A little,” Brent said, rubbing his left wrist. The doctor’s warnings of permanent neurological deficit kept repeating themselves in his mind.
Seven vigorously shook two yellow glow sticks and then bent them, causing them to make a snapping noise. This caused the chemicals in the glow sticks, diphenyl oxalate and hydrogen peroxide to mix together thus giving off an eerie glow. He went to pass one to Brent who head pointed to Alana. Seven handed it to her. The sticks gave off enough light that the room began to light up.
It took a few minutes for their eyes to get used to the yellow tinted light. They just silently stared at what they saw. They were standing in what was left of the Holy of Holies of Solomon’s Temple.
CHAPTER 44
“My God,” Alana said, “is it possible that we are standing on such hallowed ground?”
“It’s more than possible, we are definitely standing in the sacred area of the temple,”
Bishop Jessup answered. He took the other glow stick from Seven and walked forward until he was standing in front of the altar. “This is where the Ark would have been, if it were here.”
“Bishop, anywhere in your studies, have you heard of words being inscribed on the walls of the Holy of Holies,” Brent asked.
“No, why?”
“Look around, these walls are covered with words or something like them.” Looking down at his watch, Brent saw that it was 3:16 in the morning. Ironic, he thought. “The way I figure it,” he said, “we have two hours maximum to copy everything that is written on these walls and get out of here. If we don’t leave in that time frame, we’re going to have to stay here another 24 hours. I for one, am ready to go home, so start copying, Bishop.”
The Bishop looked at the walls. “There is a great deal of fine print etched into these walls. The light given off by these things won’t be enough for me to see it clearly enough to copy it correctly.”
“We could use the kerosene lantern, Colonel,” Seven said.
Brent thought for a moment. “We know there is an air source coming in here from the ‘Dome of the Rock’. What we don’t know yet is where that source is and if there are security guards at that same source. Until we can answer those questions, we can’t risk lighting the lantern,” Brent said.
“The air source is coming from over here,” Alana whispered. Seven and Brent walked over to where she was standing and saw what looked to be a loose stone in the wall.
“We’re going to have to remove it in order to answer the second question,” Seven said.
“Before we do, lock and load,” Brent said.
Seven took the tin from his back pocket and put a pinch of tobacco in his mouth. “I love when you talk my language, Colonel.”
The three of them, Brent, Seven and Alana each took their handguns out of their packs, slid in full clips, chambered a bullet and released the safety. “No matter what we see on the other side of this rock, nobody makes a move without my say so,” Brent said. “That’s an order; understood?”
They both nodded their response.
Brent gripped the sides of the stone with his finger tips and slowly wiggled the stone free from its placement. As he wiggled, electric shock like pain shot up his arm, ending up in his neck which caused a blinding headache. Only Seven could see the slight wince on Brent’s face as he moved the rock. When the stone was released, an odor quickly wafted its way into the room.
“Cover your faces,” Brent said with urgency.
As the others quickly covered their faces with the sleeves of their shi
rts, Brent replaced the stone.
“What was that smell?” Alana asked.
“Methane,” Brent said. “There may be an oxygen supply coming from in there, but there is a high concentration of methane gas.”
“What does that tell you?” she asked.
“It tells me that whatever was buried down there when the temple collapsed has decomposed and one of the primary elements of its decomposition is methane gas.”
“Garbage?” Seven said.
“Probably,” Brent answered. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the rest of the temple lies on the other side of this wall. The open market where goods and animals were sold for sacrifice. If we were to light even a match, this place would blow sky high.”
Alana looked confused. “I don’t understand. If that is true, then how is the oxygen getting through?”
Taking a step back, Brent asked Seven to activate a couple more of the glow sticks “There has to be another air source coming into this room.”
“But from where? The wall we just crawled under was solid. We have already established that it couldn’t come from there.”
“I know. I need to think about everything we’ve been told.” Taking out Joan’s e-mails, Brent began to re-read them.
In his peripheral vision he saw the Bishop struggling to see what was etched into the walls. “Seven,” he said, “bust open all but one of the other sticks to give the padre as much light as possible. Follow him around the room and light up the wall as he copies the etchings.”
As the Bishop copied the words from the wall, Brent continued to go over the information from Joan. “Something doesn’t make any sense. It says that the American Archeologist, who swore he found the Holy of Holies and witnessed the divine disappearance of the Ark, claimed that he did so by crawling through a crevasse in the earth’s crust. A crevasse that he claims was formed when the earth quaked at the time of Christ’s death on the cross.
“If that’s true, then our assumption that he entered this room by way of the cave system is all wrong. That’s why there was no entrance through the wall.”
