Angels of Apocalypse, Part I: Alignment

by J. J. Harkin

  “Thank you,” said Sémeion, holding his piece tightly to the cut on his hand, “that was very good.”

  “Ah!” said Talman. “One more thing, though. May I?” As usual he acted without waiting for a response, and seized both pieces of wool. “Here, take this,” he said to Sémeion, throwing him a handkerchief from out of nowhere, as clearly the man’s bleeding had not stopped. Then Talman crushed the pieces of wool into one, pulled out a small vile from somewhere, and dumped its contents – a mysterious, black fluid – on top of it all. As he set this upon the stones, he raised his voice to the heavens in turn. “As well I invoke the four angels – North, South, East, and West – to action upon their witness of this oath, for verily their intercession is accepted with approval!” Then he pulled out a lighter – again from the seemingly inexhaustible supply of oddments in his pockets – and proceeded to set the woolen ball alight. It went up in fierce flames despite its wetness. Talman stood to face the other men, seeming pleased.

  “Well,” said Bahari in equal satisfaction. “Does that do it for us?”

  “Yes, thank you, sir,” replied Sémeion cordially.

  “Indeed,” agreed Talman.

  At this Bahari bowed in farewell, and turned back up the hill toward whichever gravesite he had originally been visiting. They were alone once again.

  “That was strange…” said Sémeion.

  “Yes, though not much stranger than anything else that’s happened today,” said Talman. “Do you see how Allah provides? We needed a bondsman, and then one arrived.” He remained to watch the little fire upon the stones until it went out, while Sémeion returned to sit upon his chosen boulder in the shrinking shadows of the crypt. The sun had risen high to shine upon the city, and much activity could be spotted on the Temple Mount, as various authorities swarmed the area to check for damage.

  “Penny for your thoughts…” said Talman curiously, as he arrived to sit alongside. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Oh, nothing…” replied Sémeion absentmindedly, before contradicting himself. “Sorry – I mean everything, actually.” Talman waited while the other gathered his thoughts. “What do you think I should do? Should I just go down there hurling fire and brimstone everywhere?” He stared toward the flurry of activity on the Temple Mount as he spoke.

  “I don’t think so,” said Talman, almost laughing at Sémeion’s frankness. “No, the best policy tends to be restraint when it comes to spiritual power. At least that’s what I’ve always heard, anyway.” He seemed to think for a moment before continuing. “What do I think you should do?” asked Talman. “I think you should simply go down there and tell everyone how things are going to be!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you should head down to the Temple Mount lit up like an angel. You should make some sort of speech using your new, empowered voice. Use your gifts…”

  “Tell them I’m the Messiah, you mean… But what if I’m not? What if this is all some sort of misunderstanding?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” agreed Talman, trying his best to seem fair. “Yes, knowing who you are for certain might take you a bit longer yet. Perhaps you shouldn’t make any claims. Just go down there and – like I said – tell them how it’s going to be.” Talman could see Sémeion was about to ask him to clarify this statement, so he continued. “The time has come for the Temple to be rebuilt.”

  “And the Muslims are not to be included in this decision?” Clearly Sémeion found Talman’s stance on the issue a little confusing. “Aren’t you a Muslim, Talman? I thought you would have more interest in the concerns of your people.”

  “I am an Arab,” explained Talman firmly, “but I am far more than a Muslim.”

  “And what the heck does that mean?”

  “It means that, from my point of view, religions come and go as the seasons, while the God they describe remains unchanging. I refer to God as Allah because Muhammad was the last prophet whom visited us; but my concern is for the future, and I tell you that all will finally be decided by how we conclude this age. Judaism is about to come to fruition – or to bear fruit, perhaps I should say – and I think it is going to do so through you.”

  “So would you have me knock down the Dome of the Rock? The Temple which Ezekiel described is far too large to fit on the Temple Mount, even if both mosques were removed.”

  “Knock it down?! Certainly not! Don’t disturb it at all. Leave Ezekiel’s plans for future generations. Just put up an equally fitting shrine to Adonai next to the mosque. The plans for such a building are already made, and the materials set aside, I believe. They are only waiting for the right moment. Sane equity between all these factions should not be defied by this, should it?”

  “Ha!” laughed Sémeion. “If I could truly invoke the power of sanity, then we might not even need a Messiah! But as things now stand I can’t see any of the Arabs, aside from you of course, taking this well – especially the Palestinians. There would be an instantaneous revolt.”

  Talman nodded gravely. “But you have been given the power of death, haven’t you? Don’t you think that’s a fair indication that your opinion matters more than anyone else’s?”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “No, it is the truth,” insisted Talman, “and even if you realize later that you are just the next prophet, rather than the Messiah, the fact that you have been given disproportionate power still remains.” Talman fixed his subject with a firm eye. “Am I wrong? Think! Jews don’t even have a proper place to worship in this city! They aren’t even allowed on the Temple Mount in large groups – yet Muslims are! How does that make any sense? And the newspapers still print the false information that Israel controls Jerusalem. It does not! Equity has not been reached, and the descendents of your dwindling people will not thank you for such meek behavior at a time like this!”

  “But the meek will inherit the Earth…”

  “Said Jesus...” retorted Talman with a sneer, beginning to laugh again. “Why should you care what He has to say!? Let Him prove it when He arrives if it’s so important! The Jews need an advocate! Why do you hesitate?”

  Even Sémeion laughed at this, despite the serious circumstances. As Talman was obviously right, he could not help but give in. “Yeah… What was I thinking?” His viewpoint firmed as his heart hardened toward action. “Okay, then. Yes, I will go down to the city. My people will have their rightful Temple.”

  “Good! But don’t overdo it with the signs and wonders, though,” said Talman, beginning to feel satisfied. “You don’t want to be a distraction or a circus act. Use restraint. You want to make a specific statement, so don’t get sidetracked. Yet be ready to strike dead anyone who comes to attack you, for I’m certain there will be some. Light yourself up and magnify your voice! Speak to the city! Use your power, and then tell them how things are going to be!”

  Sémeion jumped up, finally inspired. “Right!” he said. “Then I suppose I’d better be off!”

  “Here, take this,” said Talman, handing the other a little videophone as an afterthought. “I know you already have my number, but this is a secure line – no one will be able to hack into it.”

  “Good.” The gaze Sémeion returned Talman was bright now, excited and full of promise.

  “You’ll call me tonight?”

  “I will,” returned Sémeion, shaking Talman’s hand in parting. And then, with a final flashy smile, he was gone.

  Talman stood there thinking for some time. All was silent, but for the whistling of the wind. He was alone, and had much to think on. At last a major success! He was amazed by how much encouragement Sémeion had needed in the end. Talman had felt like a football coach, slapping his players on the butt as they ran out onto the field after a fiery pep talk. But in the end, luckily, his student had come to the proper realizations. The first angel was in place.

  As he walked back up the hill toward his limousine, Talman hoped it had not had too many stones thrown at it. The children who p
layed in the cemetery had been taught no love for the rich. As he left, however, an unexpected impulse sprang into his mind, so that he found himself turning back to face the Temple Mount one last time. To Talman’s surprise, there he was again – the man who had called himself Bahari – standing in the path where Talman had just tread. The fact that he had not sensed the man’s presence in passing disturbed Talman, but he said nothing, simply eyeing Bahari, for it seemed he was about to speak.

  “So it is begun…” said Bahari, a mysterious smile playing across his features.

  Bahari’s use of these exact words shocked Talman thoroughly, but he was quick to master himself. “What has begun?” he asked, without the slightest outward sign of surprise. “You were eavesdropping on our conversation, weren’t you?”

  “No, no,” insisted Bahari, just as before. “I meant the signs upon the Mount.” He motioned back over his shoulder. “Fire fell from heaven! There was an earthquake! Didn’t you see it all? Certainly this means the Messiah Himself must be here somewhere!”

  “Oh,” replied Talman in relief, “right. Umm… I guess that’s possible. Anyway, I do understand how long the Jews have looked forward to their Messiah. It’s been thousands of years. Anticipation is rife within the city.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it? But we all have our silly beliefs to cling to, don’t we?”

  “I suppose...” Really Talman had no idea whether Bahari was mocking him or the Israelis. Either way there was something a little too knowing about the way the man spoke to him, and Talman did not like it.

  “Anyway,” continued Bahari, “what do you think about all these strange disappearances?”

  “What disappearances?”

  “The ones they’ve been talking about on the news. People all around the world have been disappearing for months. Didn’t you see the video of that woman sleepwalking right into the sea? Happened not far from here…”

  “Oh, that!” said Talman, finally understanding. “Yes. Just think of it: drowning herself in her sleep…”

  “Really? Did they find a body?” asked Bahari, with a twinkle in his eye.

  Talman pretended not to notice this, and turned the conversation toward satisfying his own curiosities. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Bahari… That means ‘Sea Man’ in Arabic, right?

  “Very good! Yes, indeed it does…”

  “A pleasant name. But why do you seem familiar to me, Bahari? Have we met?”

  “Oh, yes. But I wonder if you’ll remember me by my other name.”

  It was a startling statement. So Talman was right – the man was familiar to him. Unfortunately, a vibration in his pocket distracted Talman at just that moment, and he was forced to break eye contact for a second, in spite of himself, while he retrieved his phone. It was his daughter calling. Should he answer? Deciding against this, Talman looked back up to ply Bahari with further questions, but found the man was nowhere to be seen. Talman looked jerkily around himself, knowing Bahari could not have gotten far. It was useless, however; he had disappeared completely. Whoever Bahari really was, he had been sly enough that all would have to remain a secret for the time being.

  Cursing bitterly, Talman hit the ‘Talk’ button, knowing there was no reason left not to speak with his daughter if Bahari had already escaped him. “What?!” he said loudly.

  “Gee, Daddy! Irritable much? Nice of you to answer…” She knew the best tactic when fencing with her father was always to reveal the transparency of his behaviors and emotions.

  “Sorry, Maria. I’m just stressing out a bit,” explained Talman, all the while continuing to look around and behind the surrounding graves for Bahari. “So what’s up?”

  As it turned out, Maria only needed to discuss several investment concerns that had resulted from a meeting with one of his analysts – a dull conversation, though it went by quickly – and soon their exchange was drawing to a close. “So it’s okay if I tell them to simply reinvest the revenue in anything but a commodity?” she asked.

  “Pretty much. But remember that we’re trying to keep around 30 percent of your assets more or less liquid, just in case you get any grand ideas, like last year.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Thanks!” And then he was alone with the silent landscape once more, free to trudge back up the hill toward his limo.

  Who had the stranger, Bahari, been? Talman was not sure he had ever actually seen the man before, but his voice and mannerisms had seemed extremely familiar. “Sea Man…” muttered Talman to himself, as the driver unlocked the passenger-side door for him. Soon they were off, heading back to his hotel in downtown Jerusalem. “I must not allow myself to get distracted,” thought Talman as they went, and thereafter did his best to drive the dilemma from his mind.

  In the end it proved to be a very busy day for Israel, for everything in Jerusalem changed before nightfall. Sémeion was as good as his word, and appeared at the Temple Mount as the herald of a new era. As expected, a Palestinian revolt ensued when he spoke his desire to rebuild the Temple. There had been no choice. The clicking of cameras surrounded Sémeion as he raised his hand, and then swift death took them all. By the end of the day Israel was celebrating the return of their Messiah – though Talman was sure Sémeion had made no such claim – and Jews from all over the world hurried to plan visits, for it seemed the time they had waited for was at hand. A Messiah had arrived at last to evaporate their fears of invasion. The Israelis were safe.

  The Email from Nobody

  A strange letter reached inboxes all across Israel the next day, though few heeded it. The government’s information technology experts were completely baffled, for they could find no way to determine the true source of the message. In the end, Sémeion Shosheqets’ advisors told him not to worry about it, saying there must be a “ghost in the machine” somewhere. Yet Israel’s emerging leader read it over and over again, wondering whom it might be from, and if the claims of the sender held any truth.

  Hear me, Israel:

  You are early. Again you have possessed the land by force, when waiting upon Yahweh was the righteous path. Forsake your false king, and await the hour when all will be given to you freely! Does the God of Israel truly desire so much bloodshed? Your actions define your belief. Hear me, and know that you have been forewarned.

  Your Servant,

  The Weaver of the Web

  Sémeion slept fitfully after that, no matter what anyone told him, for it seemed to him that the email held a truth which he could feel beating in his chest. He spoke to no one concerning these things, but spent many hours in deepest contemplation.

  Chapter V

  ATOP THE DARKSPIRE

  The passing of days soon delivered Talman Abasi Ahmad into Iraq, for the business of that land had ever been his own. A clear night graced the skies as he peered out a tiny window into the distance. Where could the man have gotten to? The high crescent moon shone brightly upon the tower which surrounded him, its glistening, black brilliance a monument to the ambitions Talman had harbored for so long. He was glad his name for it – the Darkspire – had become stuck within the public mind so readily. It had an ominous quality which he hoped would garner respect for the new king. He gazed downward toward the base of the tower once again, but nothing could be seen apart from the security guards and the endless surrounding excavations, which took on the eerie semblance of graves in the moonlight.

  Talman remembered well his first meeting with the refugee, having only recently come across the little man as he fled aimlessly southward out of Afghanistan. Whispered voices on the night air had led Talman to the pile of rags that were the remains of the poor fellow. Worried the man might be dead, Talman had been relieved to see the heap stir at his touch.

  “Wake up,” Talman had said gently.

  “Leave me be! I’ve stolen nothing! My journey has been long and I…”

  “I know,” Talman had said. “I’m here to help, Mosi. Come with me into Isfahaan. I have relatives who can aid you.”

 
“I have relatives of my own.” The wiry transient’s one good eye had seemed terrifyingly large as it scanned Talman warily. “How do you know who I am?”

  “Everyone knows who you are! Have you met no one else on your journeys who knows of your legendary resistance against the Crusaders, capitalism, and all of Christendom itself?” Talman had helped the refugee to his feet at that point, for the other was dangerously thin.

  “How did you find me here?” asked Mosi. “I’ve been wandering from village to village for so long. Where am I?”

  “You are in lovely Iran, my friend. That is where Isfahaan is, of course. But you have slipped through the Americans’ net at last! Don’t you realize what this means?”

  “Am I free?” Mosi had asked reluctantly.

  “Free as a bird! I tell you this, Mosi Mukasa: Your name is well placed, for verily you are the firstborn chief administrator of God! You have fought for the freedom of every Arab! No family here will ever let you forget that.” As he spoke, Talman had leaned nearer to Mosi, noticing that a massive gash, like a string of symbols, marred his forehead. Despite the fact that it was quite dark, Talman could see that the scar extended downward toward Mosi’s left eye, which was withered and shrunken. “But how are they to celebrate you when you lay in a heap outside the city gates?” continued Talman, doing his best not to stare. “You must come inside with me to receive your reward!”

  The bent man, Mosi Mukasa, had given in at that point, allowing Talman to call a car. Before they knew it the two of them were being joyously greeted by Mosi’s disbelieving relatives in the doorway of a quaint home in Yahudea. “Come in! Come in!” the kindly mother had said, beckoning them toward a meal which was already prepared. So they ate, and before long Mosi Mukasa was deep in discussion, relating to their hosts everywhere he had been and all that he had suffered. Talman had been kind, but said little. These were not Mosi’s close kin, apparently, but the family was clearly hungry for news of their relatives in Afghanistan. Before long Talman and Mosi had been shown the places they might sleep, and the man of the house was bowing goodnight to them. They were alone.