by S. S. Segran
Jag smiled. It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
Tegan ran back. She didn’t say anything to the others but waved to the Bedouin and his camel as Marshall put the car in drive.
“Okay, I’ve got this figured out,” Aari said a few moments later, pointing at a hill with a long green sign stretching across it. “Those are altitude markers. Where the rest stop is, that’s sea level. Altitude was zero. As we keep going down toward the Dead Sea, more markers are probably gonna pop up as the altitude drops.”
“Makes sense,” Mariah said. “The Dead Sea is below sea level.”
As they returned to the highway, Marshall said, “Food’s coming up, Kody. I swear I can hear your stomach growl from here.”
Kody sighed dramatically. “It’s an embarrassing problem, really.”
Small stores, empty parking grounds and numerous lots with rows upon rows of clay sculptures, fountains and flowerpots started to crop up. A few camels rested by the roadside, watching, unruffled, as the SUV sped past.
“What’s all this?” Jag asked. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”
“Tourists often pass through here on their way to the Dead Sea,” Marshall explained. “Guess these folks cater to them, hoping to make a living and—ah, here we go. Last Chance Restaurant.”
They turned off the asphalt road and onto loose gravel. Despite sitting at the very back, Kody was the first one out of the SUV and into the quaint yellow building, leaving Jag and the others to catch up.
Inside, Jag’s olfactory just about overloaded with the delightful aromas of Middle Eastern cuisine. He reached out to grasp Kody’s shoulder as a sudden wave of hunger crashed onto him. Kody gave a knowing grin as if to say ‘Welcome to my world’.
The man behind the counter, a cheery, tanned fellow with a whitening beard greeted them enthusiastically in near-perfect English. “Shalom! Welcome, friends!”
“Thank you,” Marshall said. “Got a table for six?”
The man spread his arms out, showing off the cozy, though empty, restaurant. “I think we can squeeze you in.”
As they pulled a couple of tables together, the man glanced at the respirator mask Tegan had strapped to her leg. “What’s that for, young lady?” he asked kindly.
“Can’t be too safe with the disease going around,” she replied.
The man’s cheery appearance faltered. “That’s true. Business has been down the past few days around here, but people still come and go. Got a need for some normalcy, some fun.” He passed them their menus, took down their orders, and offered them drinks. Then he turned to Marshall. “And for you, sir, a nice cold beer?”
The Sentry gathered up the menus and returned them. “I’ll just stick with water, thanks.”
Once the man left, Kody, sitting beside Marshall, poked the blond man’s arm. “You can have a drink, you know. One of us can drive.”
“I think your parents would kill me if they found out I let you drive because I decided to order booze. Besides, I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?”
“To perform our duties as Sentries, we need to be clear-minded and present at all times, and completely in control of all our faculties. I’d say drinking and drugs kind of inhibit that. And”—he slung an arm around Kody’s neck in a headlock—“I would wholeheartedly advise all of you against it as well. Being the Chosen Ones and all that. Agreed?”
Kody flailed. “Gak! Agreed!”
The Sentry regarded the boy warmly and released his hold. “Good.”
Jag, seated between Tegan and Mariah, rubbed their backs. “You two doing okay?”
Mariah nodded, but Tegan was distracted with her phone. Jag peered over her shoulder and saw her changing her lock screen photo to the picture of her and the Bedouin. When she caught him looking, she connected with him telepathically. Peekaboo, Sasquatch. Can you hear me?
Oof, it’s been a while since we’ve chatted this way.
Yeah. Sorry. Don’t really feel like talking out loud right now.
All good. I’m actually glad you reached out. He paused. I’ve been thinking.
What about?
The fact that you’re usually more driven by logic than emotion. I’m the other way around most of the time. Or even if I’m acting out of logic, emotions can overpower me.
She squinted at him. Continue.
It’s like . . . you’re the Spock to my Kirk.
I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I hope this isn’t turning into a session of Dr. Phil.
No, nothing like that. He paused again, hesitating. To himself, he thought, Spock would make a better leader. But I should probably shut this down or she’ll punch me in the face. To Tegan, he said, You know what, never mind. Ignore me. I’m just hungry.
She shot him a look. You okay?
I’m fine. Look, lunch is here.
Not wanting to waste a second more than was necessary to get to Masada, the group inhaled their falafels and shawarmas and downed their drinks.
“Enjoy your day!” their host boomed from the bar.
“Thanks!” Marshall said, holding the door open as the friends filed out. “You too!”
It wasn’t long before they found themselves on yet another long stretch of desert highway. The GPS guided them south, with a sign pointing toward Masada. As they rounded a curve, greenery gradually appeared, as did signs of life, only to be replaced by mountains.
To the left, Jag could just make out the Dead Sea in the distance. The car whizzed past another sign. “Qumran,” he read aloud. “Whoa, look at how crowded it is over there.”
“This is where they found the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Aari explained, face up against his window to get a look at the people climbing out of tour buses. “Nearly a thousand different ancient texts were discovered in caves here. It’s considered one of the greatest archeological finds.”
“Ancient texts of what?” Tegan asked.
“A lot of them are Biblical. They found things like the oldest copies of the Hebrew Bible, and even one of the earliest known copies of the Ten Commandments. There are even scrolls that talk about the final battle at the End of Days.”
“End of Days, huh?” Jag repeated. “Is that why there are so many people visiting Qumran?”
“Possibly,” Marshall said. “I don’t think those folks back there are your typical tourists. They’re probably more like religious groups. Guess it’s beginning to feel a bit like Armageddon.” He clicked his tongue. “Temples, synagogues and churches around the world will start experiencing a groundswell of believers in the coming months, I guarantee it.”
“Praying can be comforting,” Tegan said. “But we need to follow that with action.”
“And that’s where the five of you come in.”
“No pressure.”
“No pressure at all.”
The Dead Sea finally came into full view. “It’s gorgeous!” Mariah exclaimed.
Jag had to agree. Though he hated swimming in salt water, he was tempted to take a dip in the shimmering blue depths of the hypersaline sea.
They rocketed by a nature reserve as the GPS showed that the group was fast approaching their destination. Jag sat forward readily. The mountains continued to stretch to the right and yet another sign blurred past. Jag knocked on his window rapidly. “That said Masada!”
“Keep your shirt on,” Marshall chided. “You’re making me restless.”
The mountains began to edge back, as if distancing themselves from the group. Then there was a sudden eruption from the teenagers. Jag hollered, “There it is!”
There was a distinct sound of several seatbelts unbuckling as the Sentry steered the car off the highway toward the large tourist center and parked in the near-vacant lot; the building’s exterior almost matched the sandy color of the historic mesa behind it.
Marshall removed the key from the ignition and pulled on his gray ball cap. “Let’s go.”
23
Tegan picked up a tour map of
Masada inside the bright, polished visitors’ center and hurried after the others as they loped through the building to get to the cable car, forgoing the charming little museum and an audio-visual display about Masada’s history. A smiling man behind the counter advised them to board the next car, as the last ride back for the day was in two hours. The center was fairly empty, giving the place an eerily deserted feel.
I knew tourism would be down, but this is crazy, Tegan thought. There’s just one family here. Wait, what’s that?
She veered away from the group to study a gray model of the mountaintop fortress. It looked exactly as their research had shown. They’d scoured photos upon photos of Masada and studied every available online map to try and identify the cave in which the box of seeds might be hidden. All of them knew the place in detail, albeit theoretically, but Tegan was still eager to see the real thing.
She circled the model, hoping to spot the caves they’d singled out as possibilities, all of which were on the southeastern slope of the mesa. The cable car would take them to the northeast sector and drop them by the remains of King Herod’s grand, three-tiered palace; they’d only have to follow the fortress walls to reach the other end of the plateau.
Unable to properly distinguish the caves, she gave up and ran to catch up to the others as they went out back. A cable car awaited them at the base station on an open platform. Tegan, relieved that they had a roomy car to themselves, stepped into the glass gondola first. With the disease going around, I’d hate to be crammed in with tourists like sardines.
The ground below her withdrew as the car ascended at an angle. They traversed over the Snake Path, an ancient dirt track that zigzagged from the fort to the base of the mesa, in silent observation. Tegan saw a lone couple trekking down, having finished their tour of the two-acre fort.
The cable car docked a few minutes later. They marched onto a wooden pathway and climbed the steps to the main entrance to the fortress.
“Look at this place,” Aari breathed.
Before them sprawled a flat expanse of land. The ruins of Herod’s other residence lay some two hundred yards ahead. Known as the western palace, it was where Herod was said to have conducted his business. Tegan knew from memory that the king’s throne room sat in one corner of the edifice. Next to it stood the remnants of an ancient Byzantine church.
To their right was the northern complex, which had housed an administrative building, a quarry, a commandant’s headquarters, and storerooms among other things. The northern palace with its three terraces, perched on the steep slopes right behind it, was out of view.
Kody pulled the brim of his cap lower over his eyes. “You know, it’s a lot barer than I thought it would be.”
“This fortress is over two thousand years old,” Aari said hastily, “and it’s seen its fair share of conflicts. If we could get closer we’ll see a lot more—”
“Nope.” Jag shepherded them all in the opposite direction. “Not today, brother.”
They trooped along the eastern wall, rubbernecking past the rubble to glimpse the glossy blue waters of the Dead Sea below. Tegan smiled to herself. For something with such a grisly name, it looks really pretty from here.
A handful of tourists meandered about, snapping photos and taking videos, seeming to be at ease.
Nothing like being in the middle of nowhere, away from the noise and problems of the world, Tegan thought. She looked on ruefully as a young couple strolled by. Either one of them could be sick right now, or they could get sick, or someone they know . . . We really need to find the cure. We don’t need any more deaths and heartaches.
Her gaze wandered to Jag as he walked ahead between Marshall and Kody. Poor guy. Not one word from him about his grandmother’s passing since we left home. He’s still angry . . . and now it’s seeped into his bones.
The meager fragments of two small palaces stood near the center of the plateau. A few tourists sat on the large stones, taking in the stunning view of the desert and the sea. Tegan nodded a polite hello to them and they grinned back.
“Tegan,” Jag called suddenly.
She looked up at him. He pointed at a bird balanced on the rubble near the tourists, barely longer than the distance from her wrist to the tips of her fingers. Its lustrous black plumage was dashed with an orange strip on either wing. Tegan stared at Jag in blank confusion, then understood. Oh, right!
The friends and the Sentry settled beside the tourists. Tegan closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, she found herself observing through the eyes of the bird. Alley-oop! Come on! Up you go, you little thing.
Having full motor control of the creature, Tegan took off, soaring above the heads of everyone below. A slight breeze ruffled the bird’s feathers as she guided it toward the southeastern slope of Masada. She banked left, taking a thorough, long look at the cavities in the mountainside; the friends hadn’t been able to gather how many caves there were exactly, so their next best option was to have Tegan reconnoiter from the air.
She approached one of the caves and hopped inside. Agh, the setting sun’s on the other side on the mountain. It’s too dark to see anything in here.
She hopped back out of the cave, took flight, then severed the mindlink with the bird. The others were waiting expectantly for her report when she returned to herself.
“I counted eight openings,” she said. “They’re about twenty to thirty feet apart, although a couple looked too small to be caves.”
“Did you go in and check them out?” Jag asked.
“It was too dark to see much inside.”
He uttered a sound of disappointment. “Then we’ll have to check each one. Are there footholds and handholds we can use?”
“I think so.”
“We’ll have to wait till everyone’s gone,” Marshall muttered. “Or we won’t be able to get into the caves without drawing attention.”
“You mean we’re staying past closing?” Tegan asked, alarmed. “Then we need to move our car. Leaving it in the parking lot is bound to raise suspicion.”
“I’ll do it,” Jag said, holding out his hand to Marshall.
The Sentry slapped the keys into his palm. “Be quick.”
“Hey, that’s my specialty.”
Once Jag took off, the group scouted for a place to lie low. The ruins of the small fort at the southern tip of the plateau provided some feasible cover to slouch behind. Tegan transmitted their location to Jag, then she and Mariah settled against the low wall of rubble next to Marshall. Kody and Aari sat on the Sentry’s other side, making sure to stay out of view of a railed pathway that circled behind them.
For the first time, Tegan was able to properly admire the view of the desert and the Dead Sea in the distance. Aari had mentioned during their research that the water levels at the popular tourist spot receded every year. Now that she gazed upon it from her vantage point, she had to admit that while it was striking, it wasn’t exactly the spectacle she’d hoped it would be.
“Do you think there are guards who come up here after hours?” Mariah asked.
“Dunno,” Marshall said. “Considering the state of the world and the fact that Israel is already in a pretty volatile position, it’s possible.”
“Plus, this is a historical landmark,” Aari added. “I think they would have some form of security up here.”
The sound of wrapper crinkling made everyone look to Kody, who munched happily on a protein bar. When he noticed them, he asked, “Want some?”
Aari prodded the bar away. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Always prepared when it comes to food,” Mariah sighed. “And still, he barely gains weight.”
“Victor gave me some of these before he left the Lodge,” Kody said. “Apparently these should last me better than the other stuff. Boy, was he right.”
At the mention of the Sentry from Canada, Tegan turned to Marshall. “We haven’t heard any news from Victor’s end. It’s been more than a few days since we saw him, hasn’t it?”
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Marshall shrugged. “I hardly hear from the guy to begin with. He usually gets a mission and goes on total radio silence for a while.”
“How do you know if each other’s okay, then?”
“Our network’s a bit funky. The original Sentries put a system in place that allows us the chance of knowing a Sentry who knows another that we don’t. And with technology, it’s even easier now. For example, Deverell, Gareth and I are in a text group. They spam it with funny photos—what do you guys call them, memes?—and interesting articles, so I know they’re fine. Victor, on the other hand, will be in touch maybe once or twice a month. More so now because of everything that’s going on.”
“I’m guessing you all keep in contact with the Elders, then,” Aari said. “At least, if you have telepathy.”
The Sentry combed a hand through his styled hair. “Actually, no. Or, well, we never really did up until the past year or so.”
“How come?”
“We’re Sentries. Our main duty, before the five of you came along, was to live among regular folks in our communities and help keep the light of goodness alive and to protect it, and the people, when required. There was never a need to contact the Elders until you entered the playing field and Reyor began moving the chess pieces.”
Something still nagged at Tegan. “Marshall, you said that Reyor would be visiting a Sanctuary somewhere in Kazakhstan real soon. That was a week ago, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t we have heard something from Victor by now?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “Relax, kiddo. I know him well enough. And if anything’s wrong, all he has to do is reach out to me. He’s got telepathy, too.”
“You’ve worked with him, then?” Kody asked as he took a peek over the rubble wall. Tegan followed suit and saw Jag approaching from afar, but Marshall’s clipped tone returned her attention to the Sentry.
