The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1)

by Jason Brannon

  Sadie gave Franklin a dirty look and turned her attentions toward Edward and the chest.

  “I’m going to open it,” Edward said. “It’s obvious that somebody went to a lot of trouble to bring us here. I don’t think they’ve done all this just to kill us off. I also don’t think we’ll get any more answers unless we cooperate.”

  “Makes sense,” Henry conceded. “But I still don’t like it. Be careful when you open that box.”

  Edward nodded and bent over the chest with his legs spread apart. Like a safecracker, he wiggled his fingers for dramatic effect, smiled nervously, and reached down to try the lid. At first glance the chest looked like it would be difficult to open. He was surprised when the lid opened without a creak. Despite their appearance, the hinges were well-oiled.

  “Well?” Franklin demanded.

  “Yeah, are we rich?” Sadie asked.

  “I wouldn‘t quit your day job yet,” Edward said, stepping aside. “See for yourself.”

  The group had expected something very good like millions of gold doubloons or something very bad like broken vials of Bubonic plague. What they hadn’t expected to find was a digital voice recorder, some old musty documents, bottles of water, and energy bars.

  “Look on the inside of the lid,” Henry pointed out. “There’s a word. Patmos.”

  “Anybody know what that means?” Franklin asked.

  “That’s the island where John the Revelator was exiled,” Sadie said. “It’s where he received a vision from God and wrote The Book of Revelation.”

  “Very good, young lady,” Henry said, impressed by the girl with the flaming red hair.

  “Are we stuck on the island of Patmos?” Franklin asked. “It hardly seems like a place I’d want to vacation. Nobody‘s offered me one of those little poofy drinks with the umbrellas. Cancel my reservation please!”

  “Patmos is a Greek island in the Aegean Sea,” Sadie said. “That’s about all I know.”

  “You sure are a wealth of knowledge,” Franklin said.

  “I do what I can,” Sadie replied.

  “Maybe we should see if there’s anything useful on that voice recorder,” Henry suggested.

  Edward pushed the ‘Play’ button.

  The group crowded around him, eager to hear what was said.

  “Hello, good people,” a deep, synthesized voice said. “My name is Nero. You’re as smart as I gave you credit for because you found the chest. You’ve traveled a long way to be here with me, so I’ll be brief. You are prisoners on this island. The only way to get off this island is through me. There are other chests like this one situated around the island. It will be up to you to find them…and to decipher their meaning. Failure to do so will cost you your lives. The horses of the Apocalypse are stabled. I‘d like to set them free! The angel is the key to it all.”

  “This guy is crazy,” Sadie said. “What does all that mean?”

  “This fellow says his name is Nero,” Henry noted. “I wonder if that’s his birth name or if he’s some lunatic pretending to be the Nero from history.”

  “The only Nero in history I’m familiar with is the one who fiddled while Rome burned,” Edward added. “And the best I remember he wasn’t a very nice guy. Especially to Christians.”

  As if cued by some unseen conductor, the somber music of a violin wafted out of the jungle like a soft breeze.

  Chapter 4

  The violin’s melody was melancholy, somber. It was soundtrack music for contemplating suicide or wallowing in depression.

  “Can you believe the nerve of this fellow?” Franklin said. “I am not amused by this elaborate charade.” He shifted from one foot to the other, unsure how to act when someone else was calling the shots.

  “I recognize the melody,” Henry said. “It’s from Mozart’s Requiem. The Requiem was Mozart’s last composition and was written at the request of a Viennese count to memorialize the passing of his wife.”

  “So it’s a death song?” Kelly asked, frowning.

  Henry nodded. “Not very reassuring, is it?”

  Franklin gritted his teeth and ran toward the edge of the jungle, screaming at the top of his lungs. “I am warning you one time and one time only. My name is Franklin Griffith III, and I am an extremely powerful man. I travel in influential circles, and I will draw upon that influence to make your life miserable. Unless you show yourself and tell us what this is all about I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. I have very powerful friends in high places that will make sure you never see the light of day again. Do you hear me?”

  The violin’s music was like molasses-sweet and smooth and dark.

  “Nero!” Franklin said, his face darkening like the heavens before a thunderstorm.

  “You‘re approach isn‘t working very well,” Edward said as he ran toward the jungle. “I think we‘re supposed to follow the music. Let‘s go!”

  The group plowed through the maze-like foliage in search of the elusive musician, but unfamiliarity with the terrain was only one of the obstacles slowing them down. Branches slapped at their faces. Fallen trees blocked their way at every turn. Dappled bars of sunlight blinded them, slowing their progress. They were running an obstacle course designed by Mother Nature.

  The more they ran the more it seemed they were moving away from the music. Edward stopped to get his bearings, and the rest of the group stopped. Henry and Franklin were gasping for air. Henry, because of his age. Franklin, because of the extra forty pounds he was carrying around. Both Kelly and Sadie were in good shape and ready to run another mile or two if necessary.

  “I don’t know which way to go,” Edward huffed. “The music sounds like it’s coming from everywhere.”

  “The acoustics in this jungle will make it impossible to pinpoint the source,” Henry gasped. “For all we know this guy could be watching us from a tree somewhere with his eye against a sniper‘s scope and his finger on the trigger.”

  “This is unacceptable!” Franklin stammered, pounding his fist into a tree trunk. “I will not be treated this way.”

  “I think the music’s coming from over there,” Sadie said, pointing to a thicket of dense foliage. In support of her theory, a red and green toucan emerged from the brush and took to the air, squawking like he belonged on the shoulder of a buccaneer.

  “Let’s go,” Franklin said, marching toward the brush.

  “Wait,” Henry said. “It could be a trap.”

  Franklin waved the old man away with a dismissive flip of his hand. “All of you can stay behind and twiddle your thumbs. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

  He almost reached the thicket when something forced him to stop. Teetering and tottering to keep his equilibrium, he looked like a trapeze artist balancing on the tightrope.

  “Help,” he whimpered, stiffening his legs to keep from taking one last fatal step. “But be careful.”

  Edward motioned for everyone else to stay put as he ran to Franklin’s side. Immediately, he saw what the problem was. Franklin’s ankle was touching a fine strand of concertina wire that had been stretched beneath the carpet of leaves and undergrowth.

  “Henry was right,” Franklin said. “It’s a trap. The music’s recorded, and there isn’t a sign of Nero. Can you tell what the wire is connected to?”

  Edward followed the strand of wire in both directions, but there was too much foliage to determine what kind of trap they had activated.

  “Don‘t move a muscle,” Edward said. “I can’t tell what will happen when that wire snaps, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing good.”

  “I don’t want to die,” Franklin said. His voice trembled as he spoke. Edward knew that he was probably one of the only people who had seen Franklin Griffith III in such a vulnerable position. He didn’t like the man, but he wasn’t so cold-hearted that he enjoyed seeing anyone breakdown.

  “Easy does it,” he said, putting a reassuring hand on Franklin’s shoulder. “If this is a trap, pulling back will probably trig
ger it anyway. So we’ll have to be quick. I’m going to count to three. You and I will both throw ourselves backward as fast as we can.”

  “That’s it?” Franklin said, his words set to the gentle melody of violin music. “That’s your plan?”

  “I would suggest you pray too,” Edward said. “Now get ready. One. Two. Three!”

  Both men hurled themselves backward, expecting an explosion, a volley of poison-tipped arrows, or something equally as dangerous. But nothing happened at first. Mozart’s Requiem continued to stream from somewhere behind the branches.

  “Maybe the trap didn’t function,” Franklin theorized, breathing a little easier. “Maybe Nero’s mechanically stupid.”

  “Maybe,” Edward admitted. “But I wouldn’t count on it. Look.”

  Although subtle, there were movements behind the trees and vines. Aged ropes moved through squeaking pulleys. Rusty gears turned. Wires pulled taut as counterweights shifted. One moment they were standing in front of an impenetrable wall of foliage and brush. The next, the jungle was swept aside…or rather drawn away like a curtain by a thick, stranded cable. In its place was a scene straight out of Genesis with only a few minor differences.

  “What the devil?” Henry said.

  “What the devil indeed?” Kelly said, recognizing the irony.

  Two human skeletons dead for many years had been positioned on either side of a massive dying tree with more limbs than leaves. The bodies had been propped up with bamboo and made to face each other. One of the corpses held a rotten apple and had the fruit poised to take a bite while the other skeleton looked on, oblivious to the monumental mistake that was about to be made. A dead serpent lay draped across one of the branches, vacantly eyeing the couple and the sin that was about to be committed. Nero had dressed Adam in a striped bowtie and adorned Eve’s skull with a bright pink ribbon. Both of the skeletons wore glasses with holographic eyes stamped on the lenses, giving the impression that the skulls were watching.

  “That is so creepy,” Sadie said.

  “Look at the trunk,” Kelly said. “Something’s been carved there.”

  Edward walked forward and read what was meant for them. “Why did God allow the serpent into the Garden? Didn’t He know what would happen?”

  “I don’t understand what this has to do with us,” Franklin said. “I assume our host is trying to make a point but it seems irrelevant to me. We had no control over what happened in Eden.”

  “Nero is religious,” Henry noted. “Both of the questions he posed to us concern the nature of God. Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? Why did God allow the serpent into the Garden of Eden?”

  “The questions could be related,” Sadie said. “Adam and Eve were good people in the beginning and something bad happened to them. They were tempted which caused them to sin which caused more bad things to happen to them.”

  “Did something bad really happen to them?” Edward asked. “They were tempted but the undesirable stuff didn’t occur until they gave in to that temptation and ate from the tree. They made their own bad luck. The misfortune that befell them was a direct result of their disobedience.”

  “But why did God allow the serpent into the Garden in the first place?” Henry asked. “If He knew that allowing the serpent to roam wild would eventually lead to the introduction of sin into the world, why didn’t He kill the serpent…or at the very least cast it out before everything went haywire? Why create the serpent at all?”

  “God gave us free will,” Edward explained. “He wanted us to choose Him….not have a choice forced upon us. The serpent represented that choice.”

  “You speak like a man accustomed to giving sermons,” Henry noted.

  “I used to be a preacher.”

  “Used to be?” Kelly asked. “I’m sure there’s a story behind that.”

  Edward nodded. “There is, but I’d rather not discuss it. It all ties in to the picture Nero sent me. Nero seems agitated by the amount of free will we’ve been given…or by our weakness to exercise that free will in a way that is pleasing to God. He can’t understand why God allowed sin to infiltrate our lives at all. By giving us a choice, He must have known so many of us would choose incorrectly.”

  Franklin frowned. “Nero makes a good point. Even if we choose the right path, that’s not a guarantee against calamity. Sometimes we make the right choices and bad things still happen. You were a preacher serving God, and your family still suffered. Did the exercising of your free will result in your loss?”

  Edward’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Of course not. There was nothing I could have done. They were killed by a drunk driver. It wasn’t their fault.”

  “And it wasn’t your fault either,” Franklin said. “Why would God allow something like that to take place? Why allow sin into the world that would eventually spawn people like the drunk driver that killed your family? God created mankind. But He also created the tempting serpent. Why?”

  “I hate to interrupt the discussion,” Henry said, his voice taking on an uneven note of panic. “But am I the only one who dislikes the part of this story that involves snakes? Everybody listen.”

  The foliage rustled on either side of the thicket where the sound system continued to pipe out Mozart. “What’s that?” Franklin asked. “Who’s there?”

  “Not who,” Edward said, seeing movement among the emerald fronds. “What.”

  The noise was soft at first. Like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. The hissing grew louder.

  “Here’s the real trap that’s been hidden underneath all that window dressing,” Edward said as something writhed across the jungle floor.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Franklin said. “It reminds me of that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

  “I‘m not a big fan of snakes myself,” Edward said. “We should make our escape now. Everybody watch where you step.”

  He and Franklin walked backward, their eyes scanning the jungle floor for any sign of movement. Abruptly, Edward felt Franklin’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “Look. There.” He pointed as the leaves of a fallen tree swayed. Something moved. Hissed. Moved again.

  “Over there too,” Edward said, motioning to their left. Within seconds, the hissing was louder and closer.

  “They’re surrounding us,” Franklin said, seeing the ripple of scales almost everywhere he looked.

  “We’d better hurry,” Edward said, pushing Franklin ahead of him.

  “Run,” Franklin said, urging the others to flee. “Back to the beach. This place is infested.”

  “Go,” Edward yelled, heading in their direction.

  But Nero had planned well. As they turned back toward shore, the group realized they were surrounded. The gleam of oiled skin moved gracefully beneath drifts of leaves, weaving in and out of vines, through the rotten trunks of fallen trees. The group huddled close together, trembling in fear as the snakes moved. Some of the serpents slithered toward them. Others moved away. It was that unpredictability which made choosing a path impossible.

  “It’s nice to see that you’re so easily influenced,” Nero spoke from behind the foliage like Oz behind his jungle curtain. “I'm sure the serpent in Eden would have had no trouble causing all of you to stumble and fall.”

  “What do you want from us?” Franklin screamed.

  But Nero wasn’t there speaking to them. He had recorded this speech sometime earlier.

  “One of you has something that will protect you from these serpents. If you find that object, you might live to see another day. If you don’t find that object, you’ll learn that these snakes are called Two-Steps because two steps is all you will be able to take before the venom destroys your nervous system. Show me that you’re worthy of staying alive and fulfilling your purpose. Remember the horses of Armageddon are stabled. I’d like to set them free! That is all for now.”

  “Everyone check your pockets,” Edward shouted, growing cold at the sight of dozens of snakes weaving in
and out of the foliage. One of them lifted its head above the carpeting of vines and fallen leaves and hissed at them before testing the air with its forked tongue.

  Frantically, the group checked every fold, crease, and hiding place in their clothing that could have been used to conceal the item Nero mentioned. Meanwhile, the snakes slithered ever closer, poking their heads up through the carpet of ivy like submarine periscopes. The rough, sandpaper sound of hissing grew louder as the serpents drew closer.

  “Anybody found anything yet?” Edward shouted. “Who’s got the item? Keep checking. Hurry.”

  “I found a lighter,” Henry said. “Maybe that will help.”

  “Help with what?” Franklin asked. “We need to get rid of these snakes not light cigarettes. Unless there’s an aerosol can we can turn into a flame-thrower, I don’t see how that’s going to do any good. Or am I missing the obvious?”

  Nobody had any brilliant ideas about how to use the lighter for protection, and the snakes moved toward them, threading their way through jungle vegetation as if through a needle’s eye.

  “Are snakes scared of fire?” Kelly asked.

  “Most animals are,” Henry reasoned. “But it would be impossible to burn all of them with nothing more than this lighter.”

  “We need to create a big blaze,” Franklin whispered, his eyes firmly fixed on a fat, oily-looking serpent that was heading in his direction.

  “Maybe the lighter wasn’t the item Nero intended for us to use,” Sadie suggested. “Maybe there’s something else we’ve overlooked.”

  “Everybody check your pockets again,” Edward huffed, the words coming out in a forced rush of air that made a couple of the snakes stop and stare at him.

  The group went through every inch of their clothing, hoping they had missed something. Ten feet separated them from the advancing legion of slithering death.

  “Look there,” Edward said as an emerald snake with yellow eyes raised its head and hissed at him. “Look at those leaves. They look wet.”

  “They look wet. So? Maybe Henry couldn‘t keep his bladder under control. It happens at that age,” Franklin said, trying hard to keep the tremble in his voice at bay. “What’s your point?”