“Hey. We were in a bit of a rush.”
“We know. He also said you saved her life. And don’t worry. He took extra care with the stitches so your girlfriend’s leg shouldn’t be too scarred.”
“You know…”
He cut me off with an upraised arm. “He also set her other ankle as well which has a minor sprain. Once Wang was finished, he cleaned his tools and passed out over here.” He prodded Wang’s body with his foot.
I looked down at the young Brit, who clutched his UMP to his chest like a small child would his teddy bear. I noticed the weapon was at least set on safe, but still had a magazine loaded into the magazine well. Kneeling beside Wang, I gently reached out and removed the magazine, releasing the loaded round through his rifle’s ejection port as well. There was no sense risking the man shooting himself in the night by mistake. We were safe. For now.
“As for me, it turns out I have a concussion,” Santino concluded, that fact quickly becoming more evident as he started swaying in place, forcing him to reach out and brace himself against the wall. “I must have hit my head when the truck flipped, so with your permission, I’m just gonna go ahead and pass out.”
“Go ahea…”
Again, Santino didn’t give Vincent a chance to finish before he collapsed onto the mattress, unconscious.
Vincent checked his vital signs, just to make sure he was still breathing. He gave me a questioning look.
I shrugged. “What can I say? He’s a tough son of a bitch.”
“Well, he’s not the only one who could use some rest. I’ll go check on Bordeaux and sack out in his room. Go check on Strauss and get some sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, heading through the door on the left.
“And, Hunter?”
“Sir?”
“Don’t blame yourself for any of this. You did well.”
Nodding, unsure how to respond, I made my way into the next room. It was empty save for the cargo container. No room to sleep, and no sign of Helena, I continued through into the last room. I found her sprawled out on her back, her left leg propped up on a number of pillows, wrapped in a bandage. I looked away, noticing both legs were bare to the waist, exposing her injuries, underwear, and perfectly bronze skin.
Turning my back to the near naked woman sheepishly, I searched for someplace to sleep. Vincent had probably taken the last mat in Bordeaux’s room, leaving just the one here in hers’.
I probably couldn’t even haul the mattress out of her room at this point even if I wanted to.
Sighing, I removed my MOLLE rig before taking off the rest of my gear, placing it in the corner quietly. Once my shirt was off and I had my pants around my knees, I heard Helena shift behind me. Fearing the worst, I froze.
“Nice butt, Lieutenant.”
I shut my eyes, wishing she really couldn’t see me. My ability to make a complete fool out of myself on a consistent basis continued to amaze me.
“Says the half-naked woman,” I replied, trying to make light of the moment.
“Aw, I couldn’t resist. Especially with those smiley face boxers you’re wearing.”
Now I did blush. I liked these boxers.
Resigning to my humiliation, I took off my pants, and removed my undershirt, folding everything with military neatness. I crawled onto the mat next to Helena’s and pulled an itchy blanket to my chin. A few sniffs later, I removed it completely. I looked over at Helena to find her gazing in my direction.
My voice lowered itself to a whisper, too tired to speak any louder. “So, how are you doing, Helena?”
“I’ll live, but my leg really hurts.”
“Looks fantastic to me.”
“Cute, Lieutenant.”
I smiled despite it all. “Well, rest up. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
I closed my eyes, feeling sleep’s hold creep up on me.
“Anything I should know about?” Helena asked.
“Not tonight,” I whispered, rolling onto my side and a bit closer to the warm body beside me, “not tonight.”
Helena was quiet for a minute.
“Hunter?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
***
About five minutes later, I heard someone calling my name. It sounded distinctly feminine, but in my near deathlike state, I couldn’t be sure. Peeking through my right eye, I noticed a blurry figure dangling long, thin, snake like protrusions in my face. They smelled wonderful. As my vision cleared, I realized it was Helena, her face dangerously close to mine, her hair tickling my cheeks and forehead.
I groaned. “Aw, mom, I don’t wanna go to school this morning.”
She cocked her head to the side and gave me a dubious look. “Mother?”
I lifted my head off the pillow but just as quickly lowered it before I could get a real look at what was underneath Helena’s loose fitting shirt, forcing the inevitable image out of my head.
“Sigh,” I said. “Fine. You win.”
“That’s what I thought. Now get up. They’ve given us some food so we’d better eat while we have the chance.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, getting comfortable with my feather pillow again. “Wake me up for lunch. I just fell asleep.”
“Jacob. As far as we can tell, it’s well passed midday. You’ve been asleep almost twelve hours. We all have.”
I opened my right eye again and rolled it to look at her. “Damn, time flies when you’re having fun.”
“I bet” she said, offering me a hand. “Now get up.”
“I take it back. You’re worse than mom ever was.”
“Just get up,” she said, playful irritation in her voice.
Groaning, I took her hand, and hauled myself up under my own power, fully aware of her injuries. On my feet, I noticed her Roman style clothing slip down one of her shoulders scandalously.
She smiled as she fixed the slip and I couldn’t help but give her a whimsical look.
This was going to be a long life in ancient Rome.
Sighing, I pulled her close, and wrapped her arm over my shoulder to help her limp out of the room.
We made our way to the main room to find the rest of the team seated on the floor eating bread, cheese, fruit, a bird of some kind, and a gloopy oatmeal type food. Helping Helena to the floor, she and I quickly devoured what we could. We were famished, and I tore into the random foul like a ravaged lion. The rest of the team quietly ate their food at a more reserved rate, having already had their first course. It seemed Vincent was already finished and I watched him take a few sips of his wine. He glanced at the cup approvingly and nodded.
In ancient Rome, fresh water was a scarcity, so most of the time wine was used as a perfectly acceptable substitute. Its alcohol content was extremely high, which worked well to fight off bacteria. Romans watered it down as much as possible, but ancient wine was still far more potent than the variety found in the 21st century. The wine also tended to be extremely dry, as opposed to sweet or fruity, making it a very acquired taste. I happened to like it, as apparently did Vincent, but I’m sure it will take the rest awhile to get used to, especially Bordeaux. I can’t imagine any Frenchman liking excessively dry wine.
Washing my food down with my own glass, I too gave the wine an approving nod. I noticed Helena wince after she tried it.
“Don’t like it?”
She placed a hand on her throat, as though she were parched. “It’s so dry, I can barely swallow it.”
“Get used to it. It’s all they got.”
“Great.”
Vincent put his glass down and cleared his throat. “Last night, Hunter and I had the chance to speak to none other than Caligula himself. I’m not sure what you people know about him, but we were happily surprised. At some point early in his reign, he becomes rather insane, a result of a horrible fever or so some think. Thankfully, we got here before that happened. Instead of murdering us outright, he agreed to let us live. He has also given us
the opportunity to prove our worth to him, which hopefully will allow us to work with the Romans to find a way home.”
“How?” Bordeaux asked.
“Well, Caligula accidentally turned on my flashlight last night, and was needless to say, thoroughly impressed. He also knows of our weapons, but has no idea how they work. Basically he wants us to give him a demonstration.”
“You realize,” Santino started, “that if what Hunter rambled about last night is true, that if we do this, we will probably change the course of history?”
“Perhaps, but it’s not like we are supplying the entire Roman army with firearms. What harm could occur from us just showing them what we can do? I suspect very little. However, there is more you should know. Hunter’s done a little more, ‘thinking,’ I suppose you could put it, and he’s got something you all should hear.”
All eyes turned towards me expectantly.
Sighing, I retold my thoughts on time travel, and how in the end, everything I’ve said may mean nothing. Everything about paradoxes, light speed, and duplicating, magical, time traveling spheres. I tried to spread things out a bit more, simplifying information and adding more detail. I wanted to make sure everyone was following, and that I limited confusion to a minimum. By the time I was finished, every face seemed deep in thought, except for Santino, who was never one for deep thought.
“You know, Jacob. I always thought you were just that shy guy who sat at the end of the bar and got all the ladies because they saw some deep, contemplative, brooding type fella, just looking for some love. Now, I’ve finally realized thate you’re just a big nerd.”
His joke received the desired response. Everyone laughed and it snapped them from the looks of worry they all wore after having just heard how dire our situation actually was. Soon, the group was arguing amongst themselves about how we were going to get back, except for Wang, who still seemed wrapped in his own little world.
Vincent got to his feet, raising his hands for silence. “Whatever the case may be, we need to worry about our safety and survival, so we focus on the demonstration, if for anything, so that they’ll agree to dig out McDougal so that we can put him to rest. Bordeaux, do you still have any explosives?”
“Oui, I was not forced to use it all on the cavern. Besides, that container has plenty.”
“Right. I forgot. Good. We’ll use some of it in our demonstration. A small amount, however. We don’t want to give too much away. Wang, leave your medical supplies here, but bring some pain relievers, maybe we can impress them with our medical knowledge as well. The rest of us will demonstrate rifle and small arms fire. Strauss, can you field your DSR-1?”
“I should be,” she replied, trying to stretch her injured leg, “as long as I can do it sitting down. I can’t stand for long on my own and I don’t think I could lay on my stomach with my leg.”
“Fine. Hunter, back her up. We can’t afford to botch this one. We need to impress them beyond a shadow of a doubt, so look sharp.”
***
An hour later, we were joined by four Praetorians.
Leaving our wetsuits in the room, we wore navy blue BDUs Bordeaux found in the supply container, and donned our full complement of combat gear, sans headgear. The men who came for us had not been involved last night, so when they got a good look at us, they were humorously shocked. We had to look even more imposing than we did in the dim moonlight.
Hesitating, the centurion stuttered slightly when he spoke to Vincent, making him a little tough to understand. The message seemed to get across, however, and we soon found ourselves walking through the streets of Rome on a warm, late afternoon day.
As opposed to last night, where there had only been a few drunken miscreants about, there were now hundreds of people lining the streets going on about their daily lives. Men were gathered in small groups, discussing the day’s events, while the women carried baskets, and bundles of clothing, going about the day’s errands. Each noticed our arrival, and their attention immediately shifted to us. A few women dropped their baskets, while plenty of jaws dropped all around. Some of the more confident children braved an attempt to touch us. They were rewarded with warm smiles, and maybe tousled hair, all in an attempt for us to show our friendliness.
Our march through Rome was short lived. We passed through a gate, beneath a large wall that must have stretched around the city. Since we had arrived in the days of Caligula, it must have been the Servian Wall, the original wall named for Rome’s sixth king, Servius Tullius. The Romans weren’t big on defensive walls, relying on their legions to defend them instead. It wasn’t until the Aurelian Wall was erected that there was a defensive barrier around the entire city. The Servian Wall didn’t even cross the Tiber River, and there were many buildings and structures outside its defenses such as the Campus Martius and the Castra Praetoria, near where I believe we had just spent the night.
I knew the layout of ancient Rome fairly well. I’d studied the city extensively in college, and knew that since we were heading southwest, and passed through the walls, we had to have come from the barracks that housed the emperor’s Praetorian cohorts, the Castra Praetoria. While we probably didn’t actually go inside their fort, built by Tiberius at the prompting of his prefect Sejanus to house the entire force of Praetorians, but we probably spent the night in a nearby house.
I felt a slight rush as we passed into the pomerium, the sacred city limits, thought to have been drawn by Romulus as he drove his plow around the Palatine Hill and surrounding area, hundreds of years ago. The ‘line’ wasn’t real, but I estimated we were in the right place.
The pomerium was an interesting piece of history. Romans considered only that within its imaginary border to actually be “Rome,” while everything outside was simply territory owned by Rome. Foreign sovereigns could not enter into it, weapons were not allowed and only Praetorians had permission to carry them as long as they were concealed by their togas, which is why you never saw them walking around in their armor.
Rounding a large hill, I saw what I could only assume was the Circus Maximus, only a few miles southwest of where we stayed the night. My eyes were drawn to the enormous structure, still in the prime of its life, and they widened in awe. The stadium held various races, gladiatorial fights, and other spectacles and was the largest open aired stadium on the planet, a record which would still stand in 2021 were there more than just remnants of its foundation left. It was here that in the movie Ben-Hur, Charlton Heston raced his childhood friend turned enemy, an event which took place only a year or so ago from this point in history, during Tiberius’ reign.
At least it had in the movie.
I felt another chill as we passed through the gates. I started thinking about just how many charioteers and gladiators never made the return trip home. I wondered if we would meet that same fate in this historical structure. Hopefully, all would go as planned, and we would leave with the key to the city instead.
We made our way through a maze of hallways, before emerging onto the field. It reminded me of my old football field, with the track running along the perimeter, except this field was much larger, and had a large structure which ran through the middle. It was known as the spina, which acted very much like the vertebrae of the field. On the spina were roman idols and an Egyptian obelisk, put there by Augustus, captured in Egypt. That obelisk was moved by Pope Sixtus Something to the Piazza del Popolo, just outside of St. Peter’s Basilica, and was still there the last time I checked. The stadium also sported bronze dolphins, which could pivot downwards to indicate how many laps had elapsed in a race.
Walking along the dusty track, we made our way to the imperial viewing stand, where I noticed Caligula, and a number of other men and women were already present. The women sat in the back, quietly chit chatting amongst themselves. There was one young woman in particular who was pregnant, and had a kind of beauty that was unrivaled amongst the group. Her blond hair and sharp nose gave her a sinister hotness found mostly in the movies. She looked
familiar somehow, and when she winked at me, I almost dropped Helena. Last, but not least, I couldn’t help but see the small man I had seen in the cavern the night before, who was very quickly beginning to annoy me.
Coming to a halt in front of the grandstand, I realized just how ragtag we looked, with Bordeaux limping along, and me practically carrying Helena. I hoped we didn’t look so weak that Caligula would jump to the conclusion that we were of no worth to him after all.
No, he was aware of our wounded. The man knew combat, and would understand our situation. He’d wait until he saw what we could do before he made any kind of judgment.
Vincent, taking the initiative, snapped to attention and pounded his fist against his chest before extending his arm in a very Hitlerian type salute, used by the Romans long before that menace had slandered it’s meaning, the only difference being that Vincent’s hand was closed.
In as commanding a voice as he could manage, Vincent laid out our case for those present. “Hail, Caesar. My comrades and I are here to prove our loyalty through a demonstration of our skills and technology. As we discussed, should we succeed in doing so, we would like the opportunity to retrieve our fallen leader, as well as some equipment left behind.”
I froze for half a second. Vincent did a good job of surreptitiously adding the fact we had gear down there, but I hoped he hadn’t overplayed his hand. We didn’t need Caligula getting suspicious.
The Roman emperor approached a railing and lean over the edge on a forearm almost nonchalantly. “Should you meet my expectations, I will agree to your request. To help facilitate my decision, I have requested the presence of some of my closest advisors, friends, and family.”
That sounded odd coming from an emperor with a reputation like Caligula’s. Maybe historians got more wrong than they thought, but I had to remember to keep things in perspective. We knew little of his few sane months, but for all intents and purposes, he had been a promising young man.
The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) Page 17
