Found
As if it were not crowded enough, also filling the streets were animals – camels and donkeys and sheep and all sorts of livestock – being led by their owners. Amidst these ran wild chickens, roosters and dogs. They smelled terribly, and made the noisy marketplace even noisier, with their constant braying and bleating and barking.
Scarlet could feel Ruth’s hunger mounting at the sight of these animals, and kneeled down and grabbed her by the neck, holding her back.
“No Ruth!” Scarlet said firmly.
Ruth reluctantly obeyed. Scarlet felt bad, but she didn’t want Ruth to kill these animals and cause a huge commotion in this crowd.
“I’ll find you food, Ruth,” Scarlet said. “I promise.”
Ruth whined back, and Scarlet felt a hunger pang, too.
Scarlet hurried past the animals, leading Ruth down more alleys, twisting and turning past vendors and down more alleyways. It seemed like this maze would never end, and Scarlet could hardly even see the sky.
Finally, Scarlet found a vendor with a huge piece of roasting meat. She could smell it from afar, the smell infiltrating her every pore; she looked down and saw Ruth looking up at it, licking her lips. She stopped before it, gawking.
“Buy a piece?” the vendor, a large man with a smock covered in blood, asked.
Scarlet wanted a piece more than anything. But as she reached into her pockets, she found no money whatsoever. She reached down and felt her bracelet, and more than anything, she wanted to take it off and sell it to this man, to get a meal.
But she forced herself not to. She sensed it was important, and so she used all her force of will to stop herself.
Instead, she slowly, sadly shook her head in response. She grabbed Ruth and led her away from the man. She could hear Ruth whining and protesting, but they had no choice.
They pressed on, and finally, the maze opened up into a bright and sunny, wide-open plaza. Scarlet was taken aback by the open sky. Coming out of all those alleyways, it felt like the most wide-open thing she’d ever seen, with thousands of people milling around inside it. In its center sat a stone fountain, and framing the plaza was an immense stone wall, rising hundreds of feet into the air. Each stone was so thick, it was ten times her size. Against this wall stood hundreds of people, wailing, praying. Scarlet had no idea why, or where she was, but she sensed that she was in the center of the city, and that this was a very holy place.
“Hey you!” came a nasty voice.
Scarlet felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, and slowly turned.
There sat a group of five boys, sitting on a crop of stone, staring down at her. They were filthy from head to toe, dressed in rags. They were teenagers, maybe 15, and she could see the meanness on their faces. She could sense that they were hoping for trouble, and that they’d just spotted their next victim; she wondered if it was obvious how alone she was.
Among them was a wild dog, huge, rabid-looking, and twice the size of Ruth.
“What you doing out here all alone?” the lead boy asked in a mocking way, to the laughter of the other four. He was muscular and stupid-looking, with broad lips and a scar on his forehead.
As she looked at them, Scarlet felt a new sense overcome her, one she had never experienced before: it was a heightened sense of intuition. She didn’t know what was happening, but suddenly, she was able to read their thoughts clearly, to feel their feelings, to know their intentions. She felt immediately, clear as day, that they were up to no good. She knew that they wanted to harm her.
Ruth snarled beside her. Scarlet could sense a major confrontation coming – which was exactly what she wanted to avoid.
She leaned down and began to lead Ruth away.
“Come on Ruth,” Scarlet said, as she began to turn and walk away.
“Hey, girl, I’m talking to you!” yelled the boy.
As she walked away, Scarlet turned over her shoulder and saw the five of them jump down off the stone and begin walking after her.
Scarlet burst into a run, back into the alleyways, wanting to put as much distance between herself and these boys as she could. She thought of her confrontation with the Roman soldier, and for a moment wondered if she should stop and try to defend herself.
But she didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Or take any chances. She just wanted to find her mommy and daddy.
Scarlet turned down an alley empty of people. She looked back, and within moments, could see the group of boys chasing after her. They weren’t far behind, and they were gaining speed fast. Too fast. Their dog ran among them, and Scarlet could see that in moments, they’d catch up. She had to make a good turn to lose them.
Scarlet turned another corner, hoping she’d find a way out. But as she did, her heart stopped.
It was a dead-end.
Scarlet turned slowly, Ruth by her side, and faced the boys. They were now maybe ten feet away. They slowed as they approached, taking their time, savoring the moment. They stood there laughing, cruel smiles on the faces.
“Looks like your luck has run out, little girl,” the lead boy said.
Scarlet was thinking the same thing.
Chapter Three
Sam woke to a splitting headache. He reached up with both hands and held his head, trying to make the pain go away. But it wouldn’t. It felt like the entire world was coming down on his skull.
Sam tried to open his eyes, to figure out where he was, and as he did, the pain was unbearable. Blinding sunlight bounced off of desert rock, forcing him to shield his eyes and lower his head. He felt himself lying on a rocky, desert floor, felt the dry heat, felt the dust rising up into his face. He curled up in a fetal position and held his head tighter, trying to make the pain go away.
Memories came flooding back.
First, there was Polly.
He remembered Caitlin’s wedding night. The night he proposed to Polly. Her saying yes. The joy on her face.
He remembered the next day. His going on his hunt. His anticipation of their night to come.
He remembered finding her. On the beach. Dying. Her telling him about their baby.
Waves of grief came rushing back. It was more than he could handle. It was like a terrible nightmare re-running in his head, one he could not switch off. He felt that all he had left to live for was stripped away from him, all in one grand moment. Polly. The baby. Life as he knew it.
He wished he’d died at that moment.
Then he remembered his vengeance. His rage. Killing Kyle.
And the moment that everything changed. He remembered Kyle’s spirit infusing him. He remembered the indescribable feeling of rage, of another person’s spirit and soul and energy invading his, possessing him completely. It was the moment Sam stopped being who he was. It was the moment he became someone else.
Sam opened his eyes completely, and he sensed, he knew, they were glowing bright red. He knew they were no longer his. He knew they were now Kyle’s.
He felt Kyle’s hatred, felt Kyle’s power, racing through him, through every ounce of his body, from his toes, through his legs, up his arms, all the way to his head. He felt Kyle’s need for destruction pulsing through every ounce of him, like a living thing, like something stuck in his body that he could not get out. He felt as if he were no longer in control of himself. A part of him missed the old Sam, missed who he was. But another part of him knew he would never be that person again.
Sam heard a hissing, rattling noise, and opened his eyes. His face lay flat on the rocks of the desert floor, and as he looked up, he saw a rattlesnake, just inches away, hissing at him. The rattlesnake’s eyes looked right into Sam’s, as if it were communing with a friend, sensing a similar energy. He could sense that the snake’s rage matched his – and that it was about to strike.
But Sam was not afraid. On the contrary – he found himself filled with a rage not only equal to the snake’s, but greater. And reflexes to match.
In the split second in which the snake geared up to strike, Sam beat him to it: he reached out with his own hand, grabbed the stake by the throat in mid-air area, and stopped it from biting him just an inch away from his face. Sam held the snake’s eyes to his, staring at it so close that he could smell its breath, its long fangs only an inch away, dying to enter Sam’s throat.
But Sam overpowered it. He squeezed harder and harder, and slowly drained the life from it. It went limp in his hand, crushed to death.
He leaned back and hurled it across the desert floor.
Sam jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. All around him were dirt and rocks – an endless stretch of desert. He turned, and noticed two things: first, was a group of small children, dressed in rags, looking up at him curiously. As he spun towards them they scattered, hurrying back, as if watching a wild animal rise from the grave. Sam felt Kyle’s rage rush through him, and felt like killing them all.
But the second thing he noticed made him change his focus. A city wall. An immense, stone wall, soaring hundreds of feet into the air, and stretching forever. That was when Sam realized: he had awakened on the outskirts of an ancient city. Before him sat a huge, arched gate, in and out of which streamed dozens of people, dressed in primitive clothing. They looked like they were in Roman times, wearing simple robes or tunics. Livestock hurried in and out, too, and Sam could already sense the heat and noise of the crowds beyond its walls.
Sam took a few steps towards the gate, and as he did, the kids scattered, as if running from a monster. He wondered how scary he looked. But he didn’t really care. He felt the need to enter this city, to figure out why he had landed here. But unlike the old Sam, he didn’t feel the need to explore it: rather, he felt the need to destroy it. To smash this city to bits.
A part of him tried to shake it off, to bring back the old Sam. He forced himself to think of something that might bring him back. He forced himself to think of his sister, Caitlin. But it was hazy; he couldn’t really summon her face anymore, as much as he tried. He tried to summon his feelings for her, their shared mission, their father. He knew deep down that he still cared for her, that he still wanted to help her.
But that small part of him was soon overwhelmed by the new, vicious part. He could barely recognize himself anymore. And the new Sam forced him to stop his thoughts and to move on, right into the city.
Sam marched through the city gates, elbowing people out of the way as he went. An old woman, balancing a basket on her head, got too close, and he bumped her shoulder hard, sending her flying, knocking off her basket, fruit spilling everywhere.
“Hey!” yelled a man. “Look what you did! Apologize to her!”
The man marched up to Sam and stupidly, reached out and grabbed his coat. The man should have realized that it was a coat he couldn’t recognize, black, and leather, and skin-tight. The man should have realized that Sam’s garment was from another century – and that Sam was the last man he wanted to mess with.
Sam looked down at the man’s hand as if it were an insect, then reached out, grabbed his wrist, and with the force of a hundred men, he turned it back. The man’s eyes open wide in fear and pain, as Sam kept turning. The man finally turned sideways, and dropped to his knees. Sam kept turning, though, until he heard a sickening crack, and the man shrieked out, his arm broken.
Sam leaned back and finished the man off by kicking him hard in the face, knocking him, unconscious, to the ground.
A small group of passersby watched, and they gave Sam plenty of space as he continued walking. No one seemed eager to get anywhere near him.
Sam kept walking, heading into the throng, and was soon enveloped by a new crowd. He blended into the never-ending stream of humanity that filled the city. He wasn’t sure which way to go, but he felt new desires overwhelming him. He felt the desire to feed coursing through. He wanted blood. He wanted a fresh kill.
Sam let his senses take over, and felt himself being led down a particular alleyway. As he turned down it, the alley became narrow, darker, higher, shut off from the rest of the city. It was clearly a seedy part of the city, and as he went, the crowd grow more sketchy.
Beggars, drunks and prostitutes filled the streets, and Sam brushed elbows with several roguish, fat men, unshaven, missing teeth, who stumbled by. He made sure he leaned over and bumped shoulders hard with them, sending them flying in every direction. Wisely for them, none stopped to challenge him, other than shouting an indignant: “Hey!”
Sam kept going and soon found himself in a small square. Standing there, in the middle, backs to him, was a circle of about a dozen men, cheering. Sam walked up and pushed his way through to see what they were cheering about.
In the midst of the circle were two roosters, tearing each other apart, covered in blood. Sam looked over and saw the men placing bets, trading ancient coins. Cockfighting. The oldest sport in the world. So many centuries had passed, yet nothing had really changed.
Sam had enough. He was getting antsy, and he felt the need to stir up some havoc. He marched into the center of the ring, right up to the two birds. As he did, the crowd burst into an indignant cry.
Sam ignored them. Instead he reached out, grabbed one of the roosters by its throat, lifted it high and spun it over his head. There was a cracking noise, as he felt it go limp in his hand, its neck broken.
Sam felt his fangs protract, and sunk his teeth into the rooster’s body. He gorged with blood, and it poured out and ran over his face, down his cheeks. Finally, he threw down the bird, unsatisfied. The other rooster scurried away as fast as it could.
The crowd stared at Sam, clearly shocked. But these were rough, crude types, not ones to walk away easily. They scowled back, prepared for a fight.
“You ruined our sport!” one of them snapped.
“You will pay!” another yelled.
Several burly men pulled out short daggers and lunged at Sam, slashing right for him.
Sam hardly flinched. He saw it all happening as if in slow motion. His reflexes a million times faster, he simply reached out, grabbed the man’s wrist in mid-air and twisted it back in the same motion, breaking his arm. Then he leaned back and kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying back to the circle.
As another man approached, Sam lunged forward, towards the man, beating him to it. He got in close, and before the man could react, sank his fangs into the man’s throat. Sam drank deeply, blood squirting everywhere, as the man shrieked in pain. Within moments he drained his life, and the man slumped to the floor, unconscious.
The others stared, terrified. Finally, they must have realized they were in the presence of a monster.
Sam took a step towards them, and they all turned and sprinted away. They disappeared like flies, and in just a moment, Sam was the only one left in the square.
He had beaten them all. But it wasn’t enough for Sam. There was no end to the blood and death and destruction he craved. He wanted to kill every man in this city. Even then, it would not be enough. His lack of satisfaction frustrated him to no end.
He leaned back, face to the sky, and roared. It was the shriek of an animal finally let loose. His cry of anguish soared up, into the air, reverberated off the stone walls of Jerusalem, louder than the bells, louder than the cries for prayer. For just a brief moment, it shook the walls, dominated the entire city – and from end to another, its inhabitants stopped and listened and learned to fear.
In that moment, they knew, a monster was among them.
Chapter Four
Caitlin and Caleb hiked down the steep mountain face, heading towards the village of Nazareth. It was rocky, and they slid more than walked down the steep face, stirring up dust. As they went the terrain began to change, the rock giving way to clumps of weeds, the occasional palm tree, then to real grass. They finally found themselves in an olive grove, walking amidst rows of olive trees, as they continued further down, towards the town.
Caitlin looked closely at the branches and saw thousands of small olives, shimmering in the sun, and marveled at how beautiful they were. The closer they got to the town the more fertile the trees were. Caitlin looked down and from this vantage point had a bird’s eye view of the valley and the town.
A small village nestled amidst enormous valleys, Nazareth could hardly be called a city. There looked to be only a few hundred inhabitants, only a few dozen small buildings, one story high and built of stone. Several of them appeared to be built of a white limestone, and in the distance, Caitlin could see villagers hammering away at the enormous limestone quarries surrounding the city. She could hear the soft ping of their hammers echoing, even from here, and could see the light limestone dust lingering in the air.
Nazareth was encased by a low, winding stone wall, maybe ten feet high, which looked ancient even now. At its center was a wide, open arched gate. No one stood guard at the gate, and Caitlin suspected they had no reason to; after all, this was a small town in the middle of nowhere.
Caitlin found herself wondering why they had awakened in this time and place. Why Nazareth? She thought back and tried to remember what she knew of Nazareth. She vaguely remembered once learning something about it, but she just couldn’t remember. And why the first century? It was such a dramatic leap from Medieval Scotland, and she found herself missing Europe. This new landscape, with its palm trees and desert heat, was so foreign to her. More than anything, Caitlin wondered if Scarlet were behind those walls. She hoped – she prayed – that she was. She needed to find her. She couldn’t rest until she did.
Caitlin walked through the town gate with Caleb and entered with a great sense of anticipation. She could feel her heart pounding at the thought of finding Scarlet – and of figuring out why they had been sent to this place to begin with. Could her Dad be inside, waiting?
As they entered the town, she was struck by the vibrancy of it. The streets were filled with children running, screaming, playing. Dogs ran wild, as did chickens. Sheep and oxen shared the streets, ambling about, and outside every home there was a donkey or camel tied to a post. Villagers walked casually about, wearing primitive tunics and robes, carrying baskets of goods on their shoulders. Caitlin felt as if she’d entered a time machine.
As they walked down the narrow streets, past small houses, past old women washing laundry by hand, people stopped and stared. Caitlin realized they must have looked so out of place walking down these streets. She looked down and noticed her modern clothing – her tight, leather battle outfit – and wondered what these people must have thought of her. They must have thought she was an alien that had dropped down from the sky. She didn’t blame them.
In front of each house was somebody preparing food, selling goods, or working on their craft. They passed several families of carpenters, the man seated outside the home, sawing, hammering, building things from bed frames, to dressers, to wooden axles for plows. Before one house a man was building a huge cross, several feet thick, and ten feet long. Caitlin realized it was a cross meant for someone to be crucified on. She shivered and looked away.
As they turned down another street, the entire block was filled with blacksmiths. Everywhere flew anvils and hammers, and the ping of metal rang throughout the street, each blacksmith seeming to echo the other. There were also clay pits with large flames roasting slabs of red-hot metal, on which they were forging horseshoes, swords, and all sorts of metal work. Caitlin noticed the faces of children, black with soot, sitting by their father’s sides, watching them work. She felt badly that the children worked at such a young age.
Caitlin looked everywhere for a sign of Scarlet, of her Dad, of any clue of why they were here – but she found none.
They turned down yet another street, and this one was filled with masons. Here, men chipped away at huge blocks of limestone, crafting statues, pottery, and huge, flat presses. At first, Caitlin didn’t realize what they were for.
Caleb reached over and pointed.
“They’re wine presses,” he said, reading her mind as always. “And olive presses. They use them to crush the grapes and olives, to extract the wine and oil. See those cranks?”
Caitlin looked closely and admired the craftsmanship, the long slabs of limestone, the intricate metal work of the gears. She was startled to see what sophisticated machinery they had, even for this time and place. She was also startled to realize what an ancient craft winemaking was. Here she was, thousands of years in the past, and people were still making bottles of wine, bottles of olive oil, just like they were in the 21st century. And as she looked at the glass bottles, slowly being filled with wine and oil, she realized they looked just like the olive and wine bottles she’d used.
A group of children ran past her, chasing each other, laughing, and as they did, clouds of dust rose up and covered Caitlin’s feet. She looked down and realized the roads were not paved in this village – it was probably, she figured, too small to be able to afford paved roads. And yet she knew that Nazareth had been famous for something, and it was bothering her that she could not remember what. Once again, she was kicking herself for not paying more attention in history class.
“It is the town where Jesus lived,” Caleb said, reading her mind.
Caitlin felt herself redden once again, as he plucked the thoughts so easily from her mind. She withheld nothing from Caleb, but still, she didn’t want him to read her thoughts when it came to how much she loved him. She might be embarrassed.
“He lives here?” she asked.
Caleb nodded.
“If we’ve arrived in his time,” Caleb said. “Clearly, we are in the first century. I can see by their dress, by the architecture. I was here once before. It’s a hard time and place to forget.”
Caitlin’s eyes opened wide at the thought.
“Do you really think he could be here now? Jesus? Walking around? In this time and place? In this town?”
Caitlin could hardly comprehend it. She tried to imagine herself turning the corner and running into Jesus in the street, casually. The thought seemed inconceivable.
Caleb furrowed his brow.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sensing he’s here now. Maybe we missed him.”
Caitlin was flabbergasted at the thought. She looked around her with a new sense of awe.
Could he be here? she wondered.
She was speechless, and felt an even greater sense of importance to their mission.
“He might be here, in this time period,” Caleb said. “But not necessarily in Nazareth. He traveled a lot. Bethlehem. Nazareth. Capernaum – and Jerusalem, of course. I don’t even know for sure if we are in his exact time or not. But if we are, he could be anywhere. Israel is a big place. If he were here, in this town, we would sense it.”
“What do you mean?” Caitlin asked, curious. “What would it feel like?”
“I can’t explain it. But you would know. It’s his energy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Caitlin.
“Have you actually met him?” she asked.
Caleb slowly shook his head.
“No, not up close. Once, I was in the same city, at the same time. And the energy was overwhelming. Unlike anything I’ve felt before.”
Once again, Caitlin was amazed by all the things Caleb had seen, all the times and places he had experienced.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Caleb said. “We need to know what year it is. But the problem is, of course, that no one started counting the years, like we do, until long after Jesus died. After all, our calendar year is based on the year of his birth. And when he lived, no one counted the year based on Jesus’ birth – most people didn’t even know who he was! So if we ask people what year it is, they’ll think we’re crazy.”
Caleb looked around, carefully, as if searching for clues, and Caitlin did, too.
“I do sense that he’s in this time,” Caleb said slowly. “Just not in this place.”