2 The Judas Kiss (31 page)

             
There wasn’t any room for Ben to argue.  He sat silent, and when Alex was satisfied that he understood, she slipped out of the car, closing the door as silently as she could manage.  Holding his breath, Ben watched with trepidation as Alex darted across the street, keeping to the shadows, ducking beside the large bins until she was crouched in front of the building that possibly held Mark and Judas.

             
Time passed by so slowly that for a while, Ben thought the world had stopped.  The clock on the dash showed minutes ticking by that felt like hours.  He felt useless sitting there, watching Alex crouched beside the building.  He was sure that there would be something he could do.  Just sitting there, so close to Mark and Judas, yet taking no action felt like a waste of time.

             
Just as he was about to exit the car and demand that they try and rescue the pair, Ben’s phone began to buzz in his pocket.  He fumbled with it, and saw Stella’s number on the screen.  “Everything okay there in home base?”

             
“She’s gone,” came the hoarse voice of Andrew.  “I’m not sure what happened.  I was hit over the head, she screamed and when I came to, she was gone.”

             
“Shit!” Ben hissed, trying to keep his voice low.  “Sit tight, we’re coming to get you.”

             
“Tell Alex I have her in my head, I know where she is.  Just hurry.”

             
Ben slammed the phone down onto the seat and just as he opened the door to the car, Alex jumped into the passenger seat and let out a huge breath.

             
“Eleven, I think.  Maybe a few more or less, I can’t be absolutely certain.  And yes, Mark and Jude are there.  They’re hurt, badly, and I’m not sure how much strength they have left.  From what I could tell, she’s torturing Jude with some sort of nerve agent to get Mark to cooperate.  I could hear a couple of the vessels talking about it in the room on the second floor.  They’re Greek, so we have a better chance at rescue than if they had one of our kind on their side…” Alex trailed off, seeing the look on Ben’s face, and she froze.  “What happened?”

             
“Andrew called.  He was attacked, they took Stella.  He says he knows where she is,” Ben said, his voice sounding hollow. 

             
“I’m going to have to take you somewhere safe before I retrieve her,” Alex said. 

             
Ben shook his head.  “The hell you are.”

             
“I don’t have a choice, Ben.  If they were able to get through Andrew’s shield, and this is assuming Stella isn’t working as double agent and letting him in, I can’t be distracted by protecting you.”

             
Ben looked around at the empty street and then reached for his jacket and gun.  “Then I’m going to stay here.”

             
“Oh no, no you’re not,” Alex started firmly.

             
“Yes,” Ben said.  “I’m going to wait here in the shadows with my gun, and you’re going to go and get Stella.”  Truthfully, when Ben realized that Stella could be a double agent, he thought this might be a ploy to get them to leave the area, especially if they wanted to leave the building.  It was a typical distraction strategy, and Ben wanted to make sure they didn’t fall for it.

             
“This is a bad idea,” Alex warned.

             
Ben gave a little laugh and shook his head.  “Yeah, it probably is.  But you know what, if Nike is trying to escape, what better way than to make sure we’re off on some side mission rescuing a damsel in distress.  If that’s the case, we’re going to be ready for her.  You asked me if I’d be willing to kill my sister again, and the truth is, if I have to, yes.  I have my gun and if I can take a shot and rescue those two idiots, I’m going to take it.  This has gone far enough.”

             
Alex looked at him, impressed, and didn’t argue when he slid out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the back of the car.  She got out and approached him, both keeping as quiet as they could, trying to stay pressed into the shadows.

             
“I’ll get back here as fast as I can.  If I can’t retrieve Stella quickly, I’m going to leave her,” Alex said, and held up a hand when Ben tried to protest.  “Stella can handle her own if she needs to.  Right now, this is top priority and we’re going to have to make hard choices.”

             
Ben gave a short nod, hating Alex a little, hating the situation they were in, and trying to fight down the urge to storm the building, gun everyone down and grab Mark and Judas out by their hair.  He secured his gun under his jacket and took a step back.  “See you soon.”

             
Alex nodded wordlessly and turned to get into the car.  Ben darted across the street, wincing at the sound of his shoes on the pavement.  It felt like every small noise was a bomb going off, and he felt a sense of dread and panic as he managed to slid along the walls until he reached a secure spot beside the large bins full of apartment cast-off.

             
He heard the car start up and crunch across the gravel as Alex pulled away, and Ben let out a breath.  He was alone, and while he thought that should make him terrified, he instead felt strangely calm, the dead night almost soothing.  He thought he could hear voices, but as he strained his ears, he found only silence in the air.

             
Putting his back against the bin, Ben bowed his head and let out a breath.  He was ready for anything, for something to happen, and whatever the cost, whatever he had to do, Ben was ready to put an end to this entire thing.

Chapter Seventeen

Mark’s story

              Looking back now, there were plenty of warning signs of what was to come, but in the moment, I couldn’t see them.  At first I was certain that Yeshua’s presence would cause a stir, and his words would be enough to cause a riot, whether it was for or against him.  However, after several weeks of nothing but peace, my defenses lowered and we all went back to our lives.

             
Yeshua elected not to stay with us, though whether it was because Yehuda was less than welcoming or because we had very little room, I wasn’t sure.  However the brothers spent very little time together, and when I questioned Yehuda about it, he shrugged me off and refused to talk.

             
Yeshua’s immediate plan to get together with Yochanan hadn’t worked out, as his older cousin was away traveling with his students and no one had heard from him in months.  As we worked, Yeshua spent his days fishing in the sea and talking to the fishermen there, in particular Cephas who had been quite taken in by Yeshua’s teachings.

             
I would see them sitting out there for hours, sometimes into the dead of night, talking quietly of Yeshua’s new path.  A way of peace, he described it.  A way of non-violence and oneness within the self.  These were foreign concepts to the other Hebrews, and it frightened them.  But for the moment, Yeshua was keeping his enthusiasm for his way of life quiet, and people stopped worrying about him.

             
Then, about a year after Yeshua’s return, he disappeared.  He, along with a few of the other men from town who had taken to his teachings left in the middle of the night.  There was an outcry, worried wives, crying children, mothers, fathers and siblings at a loss for where their men had gone.

             
Yehuda seemed to visibly relax once his brother had taken to the road, and told me as much late in the evening after Rachel had gone to bed and we were sitting outside watching the stars.

             
“I don’t enjoy having him home,” Yehuda said with a shrug.

             
I glanced over at him, but his gaze was fixed on the sky above us.  It was cloudy, which was rare for the season, but I enjoyed the subtle shifts in nature.  They often reminded me of how chaotic life was, whether it was with our fellow people, or the elements that surrounded us.

             
“He changed,” Yehuda said after a long silence.

             
“So did you,” I pointed out quietly, trying to keep my tone neutral.  “We all changed, Yehuda.  We grew up, we became men, and we all live our own lives now.  Think of what your brother might have become had he stayed.”

             
“If he hadn’t abandoned his family, you mean,” Yehuda said bitterly.  “He’s asking for trouble with all of this eastern talk.  They’re going to crucify him.”

             
I tried not to roll my eyes as I listened to his words.  Yehuda had been terrified of crucifixion, the very idea of it bringing him to his knees since he was a child.  I’d yet to know anyone personally who’d been nailed to the great Roman stakes, though we’d heard of executions.  It wasn’t as commonplace as Yehuda had been led to believe since he was a young boy.  It seemed more the old tales, ones of nightmares, meant to scare little boys into behaving.

             
“I think you should have more faith in your brother,” I said.  “He’s not a warrior.  He’s not going to lead the people into a revolt.  He’s a quiet man preaching a way of peace.”  I said the words, but even as I spoke them, I doubted myself.  There was something odd about Yeshua, something different, disquieting, and I partly wondered if Yehuda simply knew what was going to befall his brother.  Maybe there was something none of us understood quiet yet.

             
I reflected on that long after Yehuda went inside and fell asleep.  As the months passed, and no sign of Yeshua or the men traveling with him reached us, we started to move on with our lives.  A year went by, and then another. 

             
It was approaching the cooler seasons when we first heard word of Yeshua’s presence again, and this time I was frightened. 

             
“He’s healing people,” came the mention from a stranger, a relative of Cephas, who, had not been seen since Yeshua left. 

             
“What do you mean healing people?” Yehuda demanded.  It had been a long day for the both of us.  The weather was still hot, business was slow, and there was a growing unrest among the Hebrews in Jerusalem that was stirring up more Roman presence in the smaller towns.  People were on edge, and none of us wanted to hear any more bad news.

             
“I mean he’s healing people,” the man said.  I wanted to ask his name, but the very idea that Yeshua was healing people was consuming my thoughts.  “Rumor has it he raised a man from the dead.”

             
Yehuda glanced over at me, and instead of the disbelief I expected to see on his face, I saw abject terror.  “Raised from the dead?”

             
“He’s been speaking strange words, and just from his very touch people’s afflictions have been cured.  The blind see, the deaf hear.  Lepers in the streets cured!  But something’s not right with him.”

             
“That much is obvious,” Yehuda snapped.  “Have you seen any of this yourself, or are these just tall tales?”

             
“I met with my cousin on the road,” he insisted.  “You know him. Cephas.  He was a fisherman here, and he travels with your brother.  He says that the most wondrous things happen, but your brother is falling ill.  He rants, he doesn’t make sense any longer.  He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat.  I’ve been sent to find you, he’s gone missing now for nearly two weeks and Cephas fears he might be dead.”

             
Yehuda and I exchanged worried glances.  “Where was he last seen?”

             
“Wandering into the desert near Mt Quarantania.  I was in Jericho when Cephas appealed to me to find you.  Yeshua’s men are too terrified of the desert and what lies beyond to seek him out.  This is a desperate plea to retrieve your brother and help restore his sanity.”

             
“No,” Yehuda said firmly, crossing his arms.  “My brother has made his choices, and he will live with them.   I will not participate in his madness.”

             
“He has a pregnant wife,” came a quiet voice behind us.  Yehuda and I turned sharply to see their younger brother, Yaakov standing there looking pale and drawn.  “I met her, she’s a good woman, a kind woman.  Our brother is ill, and I’m not sure how we can bring him back, but we have to try.  I’m coming with you.”

             
“I won’t go,” Yehuda said, but his voice faltered.

             
I could see the pain in him, feel the struggle, and I sympathized.  The anguish of his brother’s abandonment would never leave him.  Yehuda and Yeshua were twins, a bond that none of us would ever hope to understand, and I could only imagine what the betrayal felt like.

             
“He needs you,” I appealed to Yehuda.  “Give him a chance.  He’s your brother.  He’s your twin, Yehuda.  Please.”

             
I’m not sure what got him to agree, but by the end of the evening, we had packed for the journey.  The trip to Jericho would not be long, and the cousin to Cephas would house us when we arrived.  My wife was not pleased to see me go, but she understood.  Yosef and Maryam vowed to look after her and the children during my journey, and had I known how long it would be before I saw them again, and what this road was about to lead to, I may have hesitated before my brief and casual farewell.