Plague of Coins (The Judas Chronicles #1) (16 page)

“Did he say which well has the vipers and which one didn’t?” Even Amy’s tone bore a little trepidation.

“Or better yet, did he tell you how we would even be able to tell the difference between the wells?” I added, always ready to throw in an impish ante. They both looked at me with expressions of sudden horror. This was going to be such fun! “I guess we’ll find out soon enough...they’re waiting on us to rejoin them.”

I pointed to where the men stood, just outside the most ancient looking building in the town; a rust colored earthen structure that damned well might be as old as me. Unlike my previous visit, there weren’t many other villagers present. Just a few here and there and none near where the threesome waited for us.

When we reached the odd-looking building, Zoran motioned to one of his associates to enter it through the only opening I could see, apparently to retrieve something. With no windows and a conical shape, it reminded me of an upside down flower pot.

While we waited, I tried picturing where the wells could both be sitting. I suddenly remembered the spot where our CIA liaisons had buried the cache of weapons set aside for us. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten about the guns and other ammo! There should be a couple of assault rifles and at least one pistol still there—not to mention several grenades I remembered seeing on Sunday.

I could hardly wait for us to get fully armed, and then play it by ear from there. Meanwhile, Zoran and his companion stood watching the small doorway their cohort had disappeared through.

“What are we waiting on?”

Despite acting like he didn’t understand much English when I previously visited this place, Zoran gave me a perturbed look after I voiced my question. He motioned emphatically for us to wait…that it was
crucial
to allow his cohort time to return.

With the morning’s coolness rapidly evaporating away, I worried about Stanislav and his army. Would they continue to stay the course they had started, and forget about the three pesky Americans? Or, did they realize there was much to lose if we got away and were already planning to come after us? Yes, they could’ve looked harder for us the night before, and did not. But, we certainly wouldn’t receive the same warm welcome we got the first time, if they found us spying around their operation’s perimeter again.

All facetiousness aside, this got me thinking. At the very least, Petr Stanislav had to know that the entire gamut of intelligence agencies around the world already knew what he was up to. They had to know that he was using technology that could easily bring every global power to its knees if the fusion technology demonstrated thus far were used for even less-than-noble aspirations besides destroying virgin mountainsides. Stanislav already qualified as an international threat on the FGRs environmental destruction alone. What would happen if there really were something inside one of these mountains that enabled this asshole and his cronies to take over the entire world?

Yes, I’m sure that was indeed why the CIA sent me out there—to determine if this was the truth of the situation or not. I thought it was just some billionaire nut case searching for the latest version of the Holy Grail, and nothing more. I planned to take a few surveillance photos and call it a day. Then, Alistair and I would’ve had plenty of time to search for the latest silver coin in Al-haroun.

If only I had researched things a little more, I might’ve figured out more specifics surrounding what at first looked like chasing a fable...the Tree of Life.

Zoran’s pal soon emerged from the building, and I saw him climb stone steps when he stepped outside. Who could tell how big the small-looking structure actually was, or what hidden place the stairs led to? It would remain a mystery at present, as the wooden door was quickly shut and then secured with an ancient iron lock.

The man carried a large clay urn and once he handed it to Zoran, he motioned for Alistair, Amy, and me to kneel before him in the dirt street facing the building.

“What the hell’s going on, you two?” whispered Amy, alternating glances at both Alistair and me.

“It looks like some kind of ritual is about to happen,” said Alistair, smiling nervously at Zoran, whose expression was as sweet as a Raphael saint depiction. “What do you think, Pops?”

“I have no frigging clue, son.” I was concerned about having anything unknown poured on me—especially anything coming from some dark place hidden inside a strange old building. Despite the fact that Zoran and his people had been very kind and gave off no negative vibes to me, the only immediate comfort was an overpowering scent of olives...olive oil. “I say we just roll with it for now.”

Zoran stepped up to Alistair and splashed the urn’s contents onto his head. Really, it was more like a solid drenching. Next, he moved onto Amy and then me.

The liquid was definitely oil...somehow old, and yet not rancid. It carried a unique property, as a slight warmth and tingling sensation embraced my face and neck—not so unlike what I often experience with my body when it heals. Only this sensation lasted for just under a minute, and then it felt like the oil somehow disappeared. When I looked over at Amy and Alistair, I watched droplets of oil upon their faces literally shrink and then vanish altogether.

“Now you will be safe inside the caverns,” said Zoran. “Stay together and be humble before the Almighty, and no harm will come to you.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. The man spoke fluent English. I started to get angry, feeling duped by his charade from earlier and especially the song and dance routine we went through on Sunday. But then I noticed a slight glow upon his face, most noticeable around his eyes and lower forehead. I could’ve missed it, as it steadily faded. And as it did, the next words out of Zoran’s mouth were a mixture of gibberish...the speaking in tongues, or
glossolalia,
that some religions—especially radical Christian sects—still practice.

“I think we should be on our way, don’t you, Pops?” said Alistair, a little more nervous than before.

I think this was more a need for affirmation that things would assuredly be okay. Amy looked at me the same way. Both were visibly stunned by what just happened, and now looked to the one non-normal human being in the bunch for a secure point of reference in this suddenly crazy world.

“Yes, I believe we should go.” I offered an assuring smile for both him and Amy, and a polite head nod to Zoran.

Zoran responded with the same broken English-old Persian mixture he spoke with before the recent bizarre event.

“I will never forget your kindness,” I told him. I motioned for Amy and Alistair to walk ahead of me toward the rear of the village where the immense gate sat. “May the Lord God bless you always.”

He nodded and then chuckled, and his two companions chuckled along with him

“And may He one day forgive your grave trespasses, William Judas Barrow.”

I had already directed my attention to the gate, which stood less than a half mile away. I was determined to claim our weapons quickly, and try to find the entrance to the caverns mentioned by Zoran. But hearing his voice speak pure English again made us all whip our heads around.

But by then the mysterious trio had vanished. The small town with no name and a weird building as its most notable hallmark sat deserted. Only a gentle breeze remained, brushing against our faces as if urging us to get moving.

We didn’t need any further incentive.

***

“Pops...Pops!...Pops!!
Slow down
for Christ’s sake!!!”

I could hear Alistair’s pants behind me, but we had to move quickly. I should’ve known that Zoran’s salutation was as much a warning as it was a goodwill statement. Once we were within a quarter of a mile of the gate I heard the soft purr of a motor.  At first, I thought it was a truck. A big truck less than five miles away.

If only that had been the source for the steadily growing rumble in the air.

“Ali, something bad is about to happen—
very
bad—so I need you to get your ass in gear!” I told him over my shoulder, motioning again for both him and Amy to step up their pace.

At the moment, they both looked confused. I forgot that sometimes I can hear things on a different level than most folks. I don’t think it’s a supernatural trait, as I had the same problem as a child, when high-pitched voices from young children and infants used to send me into a violent rage.

Luckily, as I grew older, my oversensitive ears improved to where I could function almost as well as anyone else. As an immortal, the pitch of a noise no longer sends me through the roof. But I do hear a lot of things that most human beings can’t, and I’ve caught myself noticing the same pitches that cause your poodles and German shepherds to perk their ears up.

So, it wasn’t until Amy started to hear the noise too that she urged my boy to keep up with her while we sprinted to the gate.

“Keep up with me, Ali—
please!”
she cried, yanking on his arm while looking fearfully at me.

Just then a pair of Russian helicopters suddenly appeared in the valley where the village sat. Once the pilots spotted us, they veered the choppers hard toward us, sending a spray of bullets that just barely missed Alistair’s and Amy’s feet. As I feared, Mr. Stanislav didn’t take kindly to our escape, and probably received some kind of ‘heads up’ that we were on our way back to his illegal operation. Sending a pair of military helicopters after us further confirmed the notion that he was no longer interested in capturing us alive. His mercenaries could’ve waited and ambushed us if that were the case.

“They’re turning around to make another pass!” I called back to Amy and Alistair, slowing down just long enough for them to catch up to me. At this point, I hoped my personal enemy from long ago, Viktor Kaslow, was more interested in killing me than them. If so, I planned to be the one who got shot—knowing I may never see Alistair or Beatrice ever again. My boy’s immediate survival overrode all else. “We’re going to have to make a run for the gate right
now! Come on!!”

The look of abhorrence on Alistair’s face would’ve been comical had it happened at any other time. I could almost see the images of scorpions and snakes slithering beneath the thick brush surrounding the gate’s marble pillars in his panicked mind. Meanwhile, one of the choppers moved ahead of the other, launching a rocket that whizzed above our heads and crashed into the mountainside a hundred feet beyond the gate.

“Get your asses moving, damn it!!”
I shouted, fighting to keep my own rising panic at bay.

We were running out of time to find someplace safe. The helicopters sped after us flying parallel and hovering less than ten feet above the ground. We would never survive the ensuing gunfire. I used every ounce of physical energy and skill I had in order to save my boy, and the beautiful girl who had become a royal pain in
my
ass for bringing us back to this deadly place. Too late to retrieve our weapons, there was absolutely no chance of effectively defending ourselves against these frigging bastards.

With bullets tearing up the dirt behind us, I grabbed them both and shoved them forcefully into the brush—deadly vipers and any other critters be damned!

I heard Alistair’s scream first, followed by a cry of unwelcome surprise from Amy. Desperate to save them, I immediately combed my hands through the prickly bushes and weeds, flicking off another scorpion whose rock-covered lair had been disturbed by either Amy or Alistair. But they were nowhere to be found. They had vanished, leaving behind not a single clue as to where they went.

I called out frantically for them—crying their names as a volley of bullets hit my arms and my legs. Staggering through the brush, the sandy soil around my feet suddenly gave way. I felt something metallic beneath my shoes...some kind of metal sheet. Or, maybe it was a trapdoor? Before I could look behind me to see if a kill shot was on its way, it slid open. I was dropped down into a deep dark shaft. Screaming.

Chapter 17

The drop could’ve been much worse, despite slamming into a slick rock surface that propelled me down into deep coolness. I heard Alistair’s and Amy’s panicked cries from somewhere below me.

Well, at least they’re alive....