Chase Baker and the Seventh Seal (A Chase Baker Thriller Book 9)

by Vincent Zandri

  “That your employer?” James inquired.

  “I know how to pick ‘em, don’t I, James?”

  “He know he’s gonna die soon?”

  Now I’m smiling. “I doubt it. He’s a video game player. You know, when you die it’s ‘game over,’ but then you pop in a coin and play again like you never died in the first place.”

  “Millennials,” James adds. “Fucking up the world one text at a time.”

  “Oh, come on, Chase,” Cross says, slapping me on the shoulder. “This is just another day for you. Fighting the bad guys in an exotic locale. Getting all bad ass toxic masculine. I bet you’ve even gotten the girl already. Where is she?” he turns, spots Magda on her knees, not looking any too happy, despite the way the breeze coming off the hills blows her thick dark hair over one side of her face. “There she is. Lucky you, Chase man. What a life the Renaissance man leads. That’s why I hired you in the first place.”

  “Because of you, one of my men is shot and needs a doctor right now, or he’ll lose his leg. And another man is dead, the victim of a rare spider that’s almost as big as your mouth.”

  Cross loses his smile, feigns sadness.

  “Well, you know, Moshe here was never your man to begin with. He works for me, and I sent him along so that you wouldn’t steal the codices for yourself or hand them over to a museum or something. And second, I have no idea who the man is who got killed by a big spider. But that sounds crazy freaky bad, yo.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was bad. You should have been there.”

  “Well, listen, Chase man,” he goes on. “If it’s any consolation, you’re about to witness one of the coolest fucking shows ever to be played on planet earth. I’m here not only to take possession of my antique books but to take background and base shots for a new interactive, virtual reality video game. A game I’m going to call Armageddon One because, well, it’s going to be the real Armageddon and it don’t get no more real than that, yo.” He turns toward the plane. I see two men setting up digital filming equipment while a third man is already taking shots of Mahdi, Magda, the soldiers, and the location. “You see, Chase, it ain’t enough to make a video game that only seems real. You need a video game that is real, dude. And Armageddon One is going to be so bad ass fucking real, it will really feel like the end of the world is happening inside your headset, yo.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Cross?” I say.

  “Let’s hear it man. Free country . . . errrr . . . well, sort of.”

  “If you usher in Armageddon One, there won’t be an Armageddon Two.”

  He comes up to me, his mouth only inches from my ear.

  He says, “Umm, yo, Chase man, you don’t really believe in all this superstitious hocus pocus, man. Personally, I think this dude, Mahdi, and his Army of the Expected Dopes, are crazy nut balls. Like Jim Jones and company on steroids. But he wasn’t in possession of the metal books and the all-important seventh seal. So, we sort of needed to play the game. You dig? I mean, just look at those soldiers. All dressed in black. Hair done up Mohawk punk. Real guns and real bullets. It don’t get no more real. Plus, all these theatrics gonna look killer.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I dig . . . killer. So, now what?”

  He takes a step back, regrows that stupid ass grin.

  “We have some fun,” he says.

  Now, coming from the direction of the parked airplane, Vanessa, riding her pale horse.

  With the cameras filming her like she’s acting out a scripted scene from a new Hollywood blockbuster, she rides up to Mahdi, who bows obediently before her. Leaning as far down as she possibly can without falling out of her saddle, she runs a hand through Magda’s hair. Then, straightening up, she gallops over to Cross.

  “It’s time,” she says. She nods at me, her lips pressed together. She winks. Then, turning her horse around, she once more gallops back towards Mahdi. She shouts, “Break the Seventh Seal!”

  All cameras are poised on her, Mahdi, and Magda.

  “This is gonna be so bad ass, yo, I’m gonna piss my pants,” Cross says, now holding his smartphone in his hand while he snaps one still shot after the other. “Gonna get this up on Instagram and Snapchat like pronto, yo.”

  Mahdi reaches into the black bag, comes back out with the seventh codice which he holds reverently up to the blue sky. That’s when thick black clouds begin to form and what was once a beautiful morning sun is now entirely blocked out like the end of days are truly upon us.

  CHAPTER 38

  “I gotta admit, Chase man,” Cross says, “Mahdi sure knows how to put on a show.”

  Black, blue, and gray clouds gather overhead. They are thick and boiling with lightning shooting out of them, striking all around the valley. Strong, cold gusts of wind blow so severe they cause Cross to lose his balance.

  “Whoa man,” he says. “Fucked up weird weather patterns around here. Thank God I put that plane down when I did.”

  “It’s not the weather, Mr. Cross,” James says.

  “Yes,” Moshe adds, speaking up for the first time. “That’s not the weather we’re witnessing. It’s the wrath of God.”

  “Or the devil,” Itzy adds.

  Cross pulls his face away from his smartphone. “Oh, you guys are just pulling my leg.”

  “That’s right, Cross,” I mock. “We’re just pulling your leg. Keep watching. It’s all gonna make a great video game.”

  The clouds are now circling directly above Mahdi as he chants something in a language I don’t understand. The sky flashes brilliantly. Thunder quakes. The earth beneath our feet begins to tremble like it’s about to open up, swallow us whole.

  “O Mighty Lord Lucifer, by whom all things are set free, I cast myself utterly into thine arms and place myself unreservedly under thy all-powerful protection. Comfort me and deliver me from all of the hindrances and snares of those who wish to harm me, both seen and unseen. Visit justice and vengeance upon those who seek my destruction. Render them powerless and devastated. Direct their malice to return upon them tenfold and to destroy them who would resent my being. Fill my soul with thy invincible power. Strengthen me, that I may persevere in my service, and act as an agent of thy works and a vessel of thy will. For this power, I offer you this sacrifice so that you may be pleased. This I ask in your name, almighty and ineffable Lord Lucifer who liveth and reigneth forevermore.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” I whisper, “he really is offering Magda up as a sacrifice. It’s like he’s standing atop the Second Temple. But, instead, of offering up a fatted calf to God, he’s delivering a young woman straight to the devil.”

  “Chase,” James whispers. “Have I told you Magda is my Goddaughter?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t let anything happen to her.” But, this could be a lie, and I have no doubt that James sees through it.

  So does Satan, it turns out.

  Because the swirling black clouds suddenly open up. A jolt of lightning streaks downward, striking the seventh codice held in Mahdi’s two raised hands. Just like it did when it connected with the book in the bookshop courtyard inside the Old City. The lightning flash doesn’t disappear but, instead, continues to beam and radiate with all the sustained power of a dark holiness.

  Mahdi screams, but he holds onto the book anyway while the beam splits in two, the second jolt striking Magda. She begins to levitate and rise into the sky, her body still and stiff, as if she is already dead. Only when she disappears into the clouds, does the beam cease.

  “He’s taken her,” James whispers, the words peeling themselves off the back of his throat. “The son of a bitch gave her up to the devil.”

  From where I’m standing, I can see smoke rising from the book. And something else too. I see a band that is glowing. A band that is most definitely broken.

  “James,” I say, “the seal is breached.”

  More thunder rocks the valley and the earth shifts beneath our feet.

  “This is just the beginning,” I add
.

  “The beginning of the end,” Moshe says.

  Cross is still taking stills with his phone while his men stay on task, filming all the action for Cross’s video game. The tremors beneath our feet become a seismic event, and, suddenly, the earth begins to open. But a giant fissure doesn’t suddenly appear like it would during an earthquake. Rather, numerous rectangular pockets of earth, about the size of a common grave, are opening up. Things are rising out of the pockets, fresh dirt falling off of them.

  Skeletons.

  Skeletons that are suddenly alive, the dead resurrected, just like the scripture promised would happen during the day of final judgment. But there’s something about these bodies that defies the promise of only the just and the repentant being resurrected. These skeletal bodies are wearing clothing and armor that dates back to an era long past.

  The clothing is that of the World War Two era Nazi soldier.

  “Nazis,” I say, my voice competing with the thunder. “How the hell can that be?”

  James says, “The Germans were here during World War Two for their North Africa campaign. They fought the British and more than a few Jews over this piece of real estate.”

  Some of the skeletons step out of their earthly graves wearing black helmets with Nazi swastikas imprinted on the sides, uniforms, jackboots, and arm bands that also display red swastikas. Other soldiers don the uniform of the desert Wehrmacht. Tan khakis, shirts, and pith helmets. They carry Hitler Youth knives, side-arms, and black machine pistols slung over their shoulders. The skeleton Nazis link together in formation, then march across the field to join with the Soldiers of the Expected One.

  I shift my eyes to Mahdi, his face beaming in wonder, his eyes black and glowing as the evil enters entirely into his soul of souls. He is now the anti-Christ incarnate. He’s the leader of the end of the world. He is the Expected One who is to bring darkness to all the ends of the earth.

  The evil army made up of thousands of resurrected Nazis and German desert Wehrmacht . . . It is a sea of darkness. An invincible army armed with the power of the Seventh Seal. My heart pounds and my lungs feel like they can no longer hold air. I have to breathe in slowly, exhale just as slowly. I must get my shit together, keep a level head, even if what I am witnessing is the end of the world and the resurrection of an evil army.

  Something dawns on me.

  Revelations.

  It states that “about thirty minutes” will elapse from the time the seal is broken and when the darkness will prevail forever. Which means we have only thirty minutes to seal the book back up. Which is exactly how I put it to James, Moshe, and Itze.

  “How the hell do you propose to do that with our hands tied behind our backs?”

  Cross is no longer holding the camera to his face, taking shot after shot of the Apocalyptic scene. He has, instead, dropped his phone to the ground. His skinny body is trembling in fear. What seemed like a fun adventure for him has now become a living nightmare. Like a frightened child, he’s covering his face and eyes with both hands, as if being blind to the reality will somehow make it disappear. He’s screaming into his hands, his entire body shaking and quaking in fear so palpable I can almost see it oozing from his pours like a bloody sweat.

  “God forgive me,” I say, stepping forward, as I prepare to do something I should have done minutes ago. But, now that Magda is already gone, I have nothing to lose. Rearing back my leg, I kick Cross in the groin.

  The kid drops like a sack of rags and bones. I take another step forward place my boot sole on his mouth.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t crush your face,” I say.

  His eyes are bulging out of his skull. It’s like he’s never been manhandled before. Maybe it’s the end of the world, but there’s no time like the present to learn a life lesson or two.

  I remove my foot.

  “I’m sorry!” he shouts. “I didn’t think it would happen. I don’t believe in God.”

  “Big mistake,” I say. “Now you’re gonna fix it.”

  “How? There’s too many of them. I’m too afraid. Please, Chase, save me!”

  Reaching down, I grab hold of his Feel the Bern T-shirt, pull him up and slap him. Hard. His eyes go wide and his jaw drops.

  “Why’d you do that?” he cries.

  “Count your blessings I haven’t put a bullet in you. Now, untie us.”

  Cross retrieves his phone, stuffs it back in his pocket while he gets up.

  I say, “Reach into my bush jacket pocket. There’s Swiss Army knife in there. Cut us all free.”

  His hands are shaking, but he does it. He opens the blade, cuts my wrists free, then proceeds to cut the plastic bands away from the wrists of the others. The task completed, he dutifully hands me back my knife.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Chase,” he says, his voice high pitched and afraid. “How many times must I say it, yo?”

  “Oh yeah?” I hiss. “Say it again anyway and maybe I’ll start believing you.”

  The earth is still shaking, the sky growing darker, the army of German skeletons growing agitated while they await the final order from Mahdi to scour the earth.

  I bark, “Moshe! You and Itze know the scripture better than anyone I know. What should we do?”

  “Our Siddurs, Moshe,” Itze screams. “Let’s pray!”

  Both Hasidic Jews pull out their prayer books. They open the books and begin praying, swaying in motion to the rhythm of their prayers. The Orthodox girls join in with them, reciting the prayers by heart. I remember the New Testament I stored in my bush jacket pocket, and I pull it out. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I raise it up to the heavens, just like Mahdi did with the seventh codice.

  Something spectacular happens then.

  The sky opens up again. This time, directly above us. A beam of light brighter, and somehow more pleasant, drops from the sky, splits into three separate beams, each of which attaches itself to our sacred texts. The beams catch Mahdi’s attention, and, even from where I’m standing fifty or more feet away, I can’t help but see real fear sink into his face.

  Raising his right hand, he eyes his army of Soldiers of the Expected One who have combined with the resurrected skeletal Nazi Army.

  In a booming voice, he proclaims, “Kill them! Kill them now!”

  The skeleton Nazis assume the front-line, moving towards us from across the field, their machine pistols aimed directly at us, their luger-wielding leader, wearing a commander’s cap bearing the skull and crossbones of an SS Officer.

  Cross screams like a girl. He’s convinced his life is about to end in this field of Armageddon. And he’s right about that. But then the earth trembles and once again it splits open. This time, however, the holes that appear in the field are not rectangular and small. The holes that open up are massive, and emerging from them are the living skeletons of the innocent men, women, and children who have been buried there en masse. Bodies stacked and buried one on top of the other, like cord wood.

  Each and every skeleton is dressed in tattered white and black-striped pajamas, the arms bearing the bright yellow Star of David patch. The men wear caps and women wear kerchiefs over their scalps. The kerchiefs match those of the Orthodox girls. Every single one of the murdered Jews is armed with a knife, or a stick, or even a stone.

  The mass graves are opening up all over the valley for as far as the eye can see, and there’s a great roar that seems to be sounding from all over the globe. Is it possible that six million murdered Jews are now coming back to life?

  “Moshe!” I shout. “Itz! Do you see what I’m seeing? These graves are a long way away from Dachau or Bergen-Belsen.”

  The Hasidic brothers pause their prayers and gaze out onto a field of resurrected Jews. Tears build in their eyes. Their lips tremble.

  Moshe says, “Many of the bodies were removed from the mass graves in Europe and transported here after the war in the late forties and fifties. Buried in the one place where these persecuted souls could count on f
or resurrection when the Messiah finally arrived.”

  “For these Jews,” Itze says, “and all Jews. The time of rapture is at hand.”

  The resurrected Jews run directly at the resurrected Nazis.

  The Nazis, in turn, shoot into them, but they are too many Jews and too few bullets. The Jews pounce on the Nazi skeletons, crushing their bones and skulls with their primitive weapons. It’s an absolute slaughter.

  “Vengeance is a total bitch,” I hear myself whisper.

  Mahdi and his soldiers are so frightened by the surreal battle of undead versus undead, they turn and begin running toward the hills that form the eastern perimeter of the valley. But the Jews catch up with Mahdi and his soldiers. We can make out the screams of the Soldiers of the Expected One as they die one by one. I see Mahdi as a family of Jews…a mother, father, and a couple of slightly smaller skeletons that I take for two teenage or pre-teen children…surround him, and crush him with their rocks, his black soul no doubt making a beeline for the fires of hell.

  The heavenly beams disappear, and I lower my New Testament, placing it back inside my pocket.

  “Truly, this is a day of judgment,” I say after a time. Then, looking at my watch. “We have twenty-seven minutes.”

  “For what?” James says.

  “To reseal that codice.”

  “You really think you can reverse all this?” James questions.

  “What’s the alternative?” I say. “Trust me when I say I love nothing more than seeing the righteous overcome the forces of evil in the Valley of Megiddo. But is it really time for the world to come to an end? Isn’t that God’s job to decide when it will be over? The seal was falsely broken, and now it’s our job to seal it up.”

  “But how, Chase man?” Cross blubbers.

  “I believe there’s only one way.”

  “What is it?” James asks.

  “We need to consecrate the Seventh Seal with Jesus’ blood.”

  CHAPTER 39

  “Jesus’ blood, yo,” Cross repeats. “I have more resources than anyone on earth and even I can’t produce that.”